Audio Link for my Sermon from Sunday, December 26th, 2010

If you'd like to hear my sermon from Sunday, December 26th, 2010--the First Sunday after Christmas, you can click on the link below to download the file. 

http://www.box.net/shared/x2bbgfoqg8

Audio Link for my Sermon from Christmas Eve--December 24th

If you'd like to listen to my sermon from Christmas Eve Service at the Presbyterian Church of Llanerch in Havertown, PA, click on the link below to download the file. 

http://www.box.net/shared/2qvflf5cle

Link to the audio file for my sermon from December 12th, 2010

If you'd like to listen to my sermon from Sunday, December 12th, 2010, click on the link below to download the file and listen: 

http://www.box.net/shared/0fgxd1fh6t


This was my third Sunday in a new call, at The Presbyterian Church of Llanerch in Havertown, Pennsylvania--a suburb of Philadelphia. 

Link to the Audio File for my Sermon from November 14th

If you'd like to listen to my sermon from Sunday, November 14th, 2010 at Park Avenue Presbyterian Church, you can click on the link below to download:

http://www.box.net/shared/3iouog2i39

This was my last sermon at Park Avenue as pastor. 

Link to the audio file for my sermon from Sunday, November 7th.

If you'd like to listen to my sermon from Sunday, November 7th, you may click on the link below to download the file. 

http://www.box.net/shared/qh73h92h0g



Some weeks ago, I announced to the congregation at Park Avenue Presbyterian Church that I would be leaving.  Next Sunday will be my last Sunday preaching at Park Avenue Presbyterian Church in Des Moines, and will begin a new call at the Presbyterian Church of Llanerch in Havertown, Pennsylvania.  It's not been decided if I will continue to post audio links of my sermons. 

Link to the audio file for my sermon from Sunday, october 31st, 2010

If you'd like to listen to my sermon from Sunday, October 31st, 2010, click on the link  below to download the audio file. 

http://www.box.net/shared/hsbi8mfxh0

Link to the audio file for my sermon from Sunday, October 17th, 2010

If you'd like to listen to a recording of my sermon from Sunday, October 17th, 2010, click on the following link to download the audio file: 

http://www.box.net/shared/jup1qlszk6

If you'd like a copy of the manuscript, please contact me.  I'm happy to provide manuscripts for those who ask. 

Link to the audio file for my sermon from October 10th, 2010

If you'd like to listen to the recording of my sermon, "Thanks for Nothing!" from Sunday, October 10th, 2010 at Park Avenue Presbyterian Church, you can click on the following link and download the file. 

http://www.box.net/shared/rzshopxdos


If you'd like a copy of the manuscript I used to preach from, please contact me.  I'm happy to provide manuscripts for those who ask. 

Audio Link and Sermon Manuscript for World Communion Sunday, October 3rd, 2010

If you'd like to listen to my sermon from World Communion Sunday, October 3rd, 2010, please click on the link below to download the audio file: 

http://www.box.net/shared/7xb0htfu0q



The semon manuscript I used to preach from is included below:


The Twenty-Seventh Sunday of Ordinary Time & World Communion Sunday; October 03, 2010
Park Avenue Presbyterian Church; Des Moines, Iowa
Texts: Lamentations 1: 1-6
Lamentations 3: 19-26 or Psalm 137
2 Timothy 1: 1-14
Luke 17: 5-10 *

“The Weird Table”

--} Today is World Communion Sunday—celebrated by many Christians the world over. So think if you will, that our celebration of the Lord’s Supper serves as the great opposition for all that’s wrong in the world. Hunger. Warfare. Political advertising. Disasters. Consider the table as a place of uniting, a sacrament that puts US together with CHRIST for the sake of all that is good and right for the world. For me it’s sort of like the Psalmist’s promise in the 23rd Psalm—“thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies.” When we gather at table as believers… we gather being observed by the world. At least part of what we hope the world observes is God’s gracious care of us.
I think in a similar way Jesus in Luke’s gospel lesson offers us different orientation.


More often than not, we presume that the apostles in today’s reading are being greedy, saying to Jesus, “increase our faith.” Jesus’ response seems a quick punch—“If you had faith the size of a mustard seed, you could say to this mulberry tree, ‘Be uprooted and planted in the sea,’ and it would obey you.” And before we ask ourselves about the power to uproot trees and plant them in the sea, perhaps we need to remember that no matter faith’s relative size to the mustard seed, planting a tree in the sea in any case seems like a pretty dumb idea. Jesus seems not to mince words; when they ask, “give us more,” he says quickly the equivalent of, “that’s dumb.”

But Luke takes the opportunity to connect verses 6 and 7 grammatically. Where often in a plain English reading, we’d be tempted to say that verses 5 and 6 and verses 7 through 10 are pretty unrelated, Luke connects them—intentionally—as if this is the real answer or explanation to the apostles’ question. “Who among you would say to your slave who has just come in from plowing or tending sheep in the field, ‘Come here at once and take your place at the table’?”

Jesus is portrayed asking this question as if some of the apostles actually had slaves in their households. And while that may be a troublesome image of us in 21st Century America, it seems not to have the same challenges for Jesus and the apostles in 1st century Palestine. “Who among you would say…” and the answer is pretty much, “none of us.” The image Jesus uses is a “weird table,” much akin to us going out to a very nice restaurant, and when the server comes to take our order, we get up and seat the server at OUR table, taking his or her order and serving it before we get to have our meal. Who of us would do that? …none of us, right?

Jesus’ point is that it’s human convention to treat laborers appropriately—according to the relationships established for them. Everyone expectation is that the slave will follow the directions given; that’s what’s supposed to happen. A slave or servant doesn’t earn special significance because he or she has done what she or he was directed to do. Therefore, concludes Jesus, treat yourselves accordingly. Do what you’ve been asked to do, and don’t expect special treatment.

For me, the weird and intriguing part of the story is that the table Jesus asks about—the one with the master serving the servants—is exactly the kind of table I think Jesus has been teaching us about, the very table God promises is waiting for us in the Kingdom of God. This strange table, which everyone seems to reject (and for good reason) is exactly the kind of table we believe God has set for us—and yet, the story has us rejecting it! What’s wrong with this picture?

And maybe, that’s what we always say; “There’s just something “wrong” with this picture.” And often, we think the “wrongness” begins with the apostles asking Jesus to “increase [their] faith.” But let’s think about this just a bit further. Just what is it that the apostles have been asked to do as servants or slaves?

This request for an “increase” comes right after Jesus has told his disciples that they must “forgive” anyone who asks for repentance; not only once or twice, but seven times in the same day, if necessary. If that’s not a BIG enough order, that story comes immediately on the heels of the story of the rich man and Lazarus, where it’s pretty devastating what happens to those who don’t meet the challenges of the lifestyle of the Kingdom of God. “Increase our faith” may not be a request based on greed, but one that acknowledges the difficulty of living as a witness to the kingdom’s ways.

We often chide these apostles for their apparent greediness; perhaps assuming they are as interested in the wealth of supernatural abilities as the Pharisees were lovers of money and lustful after the lifestyles of those who had more and most. We chide the apostles for their apparent weaknesses—assuming they aren’t always the best examples of what it means to live by faith. But in this story, I think they surprise us; startling us with a difficult turn of events.

It’s not always the apostles, but more often you and I who wear the vestments of greediness. Oh we think we have better motives, or the fact that our “good motives” ought to get us free passes on our desires. But when it comes to being greedy, perhaps we ought to look no further than our Church. We lust after more members, more money, and greater worldly authority. We’d like bigger, newer, more accessible buildings; bigger endowments; and some way for someone else to pay the bills so we can give all our money to mission. Am I wrong? But that’s been the story of Christianity in the modern age.

The great churches of Europe sent out missionaries to defeat and conquer every corner of the world. And since the great industrial age, the dominance of the West—including America—has led to our preference for the ways of the modern western world over and against the poor of the second and third world. Our ways are better; our life, our freedom, our beliefs—are best. And we believe this in terms of politics, and it follows with religion. Jesus, I think, would teach his apostles and disciples that if anything, it should be the other way around—our religious affiliations should inform our politics; which means we are invited to see the world very differently. Perhaps, even going so far as to imagine the kind of world Jesus proposes in his question, “Who among you would say to your slave who has just come in from plowing or tending sheep in the field, ‘Come here at once and take your place at the table’?” [None of us, I assure you! Am I right?]

So At the end of Luke’s story, Jesus’ answer to the apostles and to us is simple: “when you have done all that you were ordered to do, say, ‘We are worthless slaves; we have done only what we ought to have done’!” And at first, that sounds somewhat degrading to us. What? Us middle-class north American Christians treat ourselves or allow ourselves to be treated like some poor immigrant from Central America or Taiwan? But that’s not exactly what I believe Jesus has in mind.

Jesus has in mind our responding, not as people of privilege, but as people who do their jobs. In verse 10, the Greek verb “to order” or “commanded” is a word that also means “appointed” or “ordained.” As in, “when you have done all that you were appointed, or “ordained” for, …then say, “we have done what we ought to have done.” So that in the language of Luke’s story there’s another image—a different table, where the ones who have done what they were appointed or ordained to do, are welcomed at table together, perhaps even in the UNCONVENTIONAL manner Jesus suggests.

This isn’t the lifestyle of more, better, best—as in more members, more money, more success. This is the lifestyle established by Jesus, where followers are called not to places, positions, and abilities that “wow” others, but where we serve one another in love. Where we respond to the call and claim of the master—not in an attempt to curry more favor, but in an attempt to witness to the Kingdom of God. And that’s what we do when we gather around the table.

THIS TABLE, isn’t about “more, better, or most.” THIS TABLE is about the lifestyle of Jesus, who invites us into a new way of seeing the world. THIS TABLE is weird… because it asks us to give witness to the Kingdom of God before giving in to the conventions of the world. …Because it asks us to see the world through the lens of Jesus—and suddenly things can’t be the same anymore.

Ultimately, Jesus seems to ask the apostles and disciples to see the world differently. That they have enough faith, even to accomplish the hard things in life. That they have enough faith to do things that are simply unimaginable. That they CAN even if the world would have them—or have us—believe they or we can’t. Jesus would have us imagine a world where we can already leave convention and declare a new age. Are you ready for it? Who among us is ready to get out the apron, to don the uniform, to serve others as Christ has served us?

Today is World Communion Sunday. And when we join at table with our brothers and sisters around the world… how can we have it any other way—than considering ourselves servants of Jesus’ lifestyle. Share the feast; share the life.


--+ Brothers and Sisters, God sent God’s son, the Christ; and Jesus dares us, “who among you would say to the slave who just came in from the field, come here at once and take your place at the table?” I’d like to think that all of us would accept that dare—“we would!” That we might give witness to the ways of the kingdom of God. Here’s our opportunity as we share at Christ’s table. AMEN.

Audio Link and Sermon Manuscript for Sunday, September 26, 2010

If you'd like to listen to my sermon from Sunday, September 26th, 2010, click on the link below to download the audio file. 


http://www.box.net/shared/n3nty7227n



The sermon manuscript I used follows below: 




The Twenty-Sixth Sunday of Ordinary Time; September 26, 2010
Park Avenue Presbyterian Church; Des Moines, Iowa
Texts: Jeremiah 32: 1-3a, 6-15
Psalm 91: 1-6, 14-16
1 Timothy 6: 6-19
Luke 16: 19-31 *

“As the Purse is Emptied, the Heart is Filled”

--} This morning’s parable in our gospel lesson surely begins with the context Luke puts it in. The gospel story begins with more than just the parable about the rich man and Lazarus, but with the Pharisees, “who were lovers of money,” and who had been ridiculing Jesus. The good news is we have a context in which to understand Jesus’ parable; the bad news… is that once again, our money (particularly that we have more than enough) is an issue for us, too.

Initially, at least, we all want to cheer the “great reversal” of verse 25: “remember that during your lifetime you received your good things, and Lazarus, in like manner evil things; but now he is comforted and you are in agony.” To be sure, like us, many in the crowd around Jesus would have cheered such “just desserts,” too—reveling in the notion that all people get what’s coming to them. We’d like to think that with the coming of God’s Kingdom, everything gets evened out. The billionaires can live like paupers, and WE can all live like Donald Trump!

Yet, we use this reality to justify suffering now, as if it will eventually be rewarded. We’re comforted, because when we see people who are suffering at the hands of human greed, we believe that’s OK, because they will eventually get their reward in heaven. And maybe, just maybe, our lives don’t have to change so much. After all, we try and do our part to help those who are suffering; and none of us really live like Donald Trump! But I don’t believe this is Jesus’ point.

Luke has a curious way of telling this story. First, the rich man is never named. Names are a big deal, and the fact that Lazarus is named and the rich man isn’t, tells us something about Lazarus’ relative value in the parable. Press Lazarus’ name a bit, and we discover his name means, “God helps.” So this parable is a picture of a rich man verses the one who God helps. Lazarus is only seen lying at the gate, suffering. How does he ever gain God’s favor?

There’s an old Americanized proverb most of us are familiar with: “God helps those who help themselves.” Afterall, we’re the people who are ridiculously proud of “pulling ourselves up by our own bootstraps.” You can’t just sit and wallow in your sufferings or your losses or your defeats; you have to get up and keep pushing. Many people believe this proverb about helping yourself is biblical; I assure you, it is not. Some people attribute it to Benjamin Franklin, offering advice about how to be successful in life; maybe. There’s actually an old Greek fable that goes like this:

A Waggoner was once driving a heavy load along a very muddy way. At last he came to a part of the road where the wheels sank half-way into the mire, and the more the horses pulled, the deeper sank the wheels. So the Waggoner threw down his whip, and knelt down and prayed to Hercules the Strong. "O Hercules, help me in this my hour of distress," quoth he. But Hercules appeared to him, and said: "Tut, man, don't sprawl there. Get up and put your shoulder to the wheel."

The gods help them that help themselves.

And the point seems to be that you have to demonstrate some initiative in order for God to throw in with you, right?

But in Jesus’ parable, God’s favor or God’s help requires no such initiative. If anything, God simply observes injustice and will take care of it in the next life. “Where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”


But I believe the truth is that if we don’t walk away from this parable a good bit offended, we’ve missed the meaning.


We always want to believe that we are somehow less offensive in our behavior than the rich man Jesus tells us about. That we wouldn’t feast sumptuously ourselves while we allowed Lazarus to lie at the gate and suffer, day after day as the dogs lick his wounds.

But the conclusion of the parable is this: “They have Moses and the prophets; they should listen to them.” And the point seems to be, not avoiding the fate of the rich man, but listening to Moses and the Prophets. Luke’s surprise in this story is that Jesus is talking to the Pharisees, who arguably ought to be the ones who are the best “listeners” to the law and the Prophets. And yet, they are the ones identified as the “lovers of money.” As it is with the rich man, their burden is justifying themselves in the sight of others, but not according to how God measures the heart. And when we presume a “great reversal” is going to be the “great fix” to all injustices, I think we become guilty of the same thing.


If we don’t walk away from this parable a good bit offended, ourselves; we’ll miss what Jesus is up to.

The parable serves as a check and balance for what we might otherwise settle for being true. We’re often convinced that prudent and wise disposition of our wealth is important and to be valued. So, saving for a rainy day, putting something away for tomorrow—just in case, or managing our wealth and money, are practical steps to success. The value of emptying the purse so our hearts might be filled… sounds, well, foolish. Even though that would seem to be the behavior we would try and prescribe for the rich man in Jesus parable; and when Jesus would seem to be trying to advise us similarly.

So here’s a quote I heard this week attributed to the “notable leftist” Dwight Eisenhower. Of course, you know Eisenhower was no “leftist,” but rather a well-established Republican patriot. But here’s what Eisenhower said:

“Every gun that is made, every warship launched, every rocket fired signifies …a theft from those who hunger and are not fed, those who are cold and not clothed. This world in arms is not spending money alone. It is spending the sweat of its laborers, the genius of its scientists, the hopes of its children.”

And this is part of the point I believe Jesus is pushing us toward: that the choices we make for our lives are always related to those who do not get to make the same kinds of choices. And if we presume to make our choices and care not for others and their choices, we are no better than the rich man feasting sumptuously while Lazarus is lying at the gate in agony.

As we hear the words of Jesus’ promises for us, we tend to believe we are well on our way to personal and corporate salvation—maybe even without having to take stock of the victims of injustice or the suffering we surely witness and recognize. As we hear the promises of Jesus, it’s easier to presume God’s help of us, to justify our status, and presume our place in eternal life, rather than taking stock of our relative wealth and our relative unwillingness to even up justice.

Again, here’s the sage advice Jesus is quoting: “They have Moses and the prophets; they should listen to them.” It’s not that we don’t need Jesus, but that we have already been invited into a world-view that should guide us. God’s preferential assessment for some people is important. We should not seek to look beyond it, but figure ourselves how to change our actions accordingly. And then we can become people who aren’t just worried about what happens to us when we die, but people who are busy being God’s hands, God’s heart, God’s eyes, God’s legs and feet.

Or, as Vida Scudder surmises: “We have food, others have none. God bless the revolution.”


--+ Brothers and Sisters, God sent God’s son, the Christ; he doesn’t just save us, he turns our world upside down. He calls us to live in new ways, to see wealth, riches, and suffering as things we can change. We’re called—are we not—to give up clinging to money and to cling to the life of the Kingdom of God instead. AMEN.

Audio Link and Sermon Manuscript for Sunday, September 19, 2010

If you'd like to listen to my sermon from Sunday, September 19th, click on the link below and download the audio file. 

http://www.box.net/shared/b5b2di6ge3


The manuscript I used follows below: 




The Twenty-Fifth Sunday of Ordinary Time; September 19, 2010
Park Avenue Presbyterian Church; Des Moines, Iowa
Texts: Jeremiah 8:18 – 9:1
Psalm 79: 1-9
1 Timothy 2: 1-7
Luke 16: 1-13 *

“Who’s The Real ‘Apprentice’?”

--} It should come as no surprise that many preachers report today’s gospel reading to be one of the most challenging accounts in all of scripture. Verses 8 and 9 sit at the center of the controversy:

And his master commended the dishonest manager because he had acted shrewdly; for the children of this age are more shrewd in dealing with their own generation than are the children of light. And I tell you, make friends for yourselves by means of dishonest wealth so that when it is gone, they may welcome you into the eternal homes.

The first part of verse 8 is the conclusion of the parable; but the last half, and verse 9 appear to be Jesus’ words of advice—“make friends for yourselves by means of dishonest wealth.” Uncomfortable advice—because Jesus sounds like he’s endorsing dishonesty. Well, doesn’t he?

Like many hard passages, what a lot of preachers and interpreters do is to make the passage about something else. So instead of facing up to the difficulty of Jesus’ parable, many turn to the advice or application that seems to follow in the later verses. “You cannot serve God and mammon;” or “whoever is faithful in a very little is faithful also in much;” or “if you have not been faithful with what belongs to another, who will give you what is your own?”

But this story has a hard edge, just like when Jesus tells us that we have to give up our possessions. It’s bookended by famous stories about Jesus being picked on because he eats with sinners and welcomes them, and then he gets pointed out because he labels people as “lovers of money.” If you ask me, I think Jesus has something to say in this parable about how we think about money and wealth; and it’s even more surprising than simply suggesting that Jesus is encouraging us to use “dishonest wealth” to make friends.

Most of the time, we tend to focus our time and energy on the so-called “dishonest manager.” While the rich man has heard the manager was squandering the rich man’s property and proceeds to dismiss him, the “dishonest manager” earns his name because he goes to those who owe money to the rich man, inviting them to freely reduce the amount due to be paid the rich man. By cutting them a deal, the dishonest manager believes this will curry favor with others when the rich man dismisses him for cause; and then, he have someone to take him in.

But you’d think, that when the rich man hears what the dishonest manager has done, he’d be even more irate. But that isn’t what happens. When the rich man hears what the dishonest manager has done, he responds by praising him instead. Calling him “shrewd,” the rich man gives up his moral authority, indicating that the dishonest manager acted in a way worth of admiration. That’s the disturbing part, isn’t it? And not only that, but Luke seems to put it squarely into the voice of Jesus, using language in the original text that indicates it was Jesus himself—not just the rich man—heaping up the praise. That’s a double whammy of dishonesty, and no one in the parable seems to do anything about it!

But the other character in the parable is the rich man. And upon hearing that the manager is acting wrongfully, the rich man doesn’t allow him to continue. However, when he discovers he’s been defrauded, the rich man seems to undergo some kind of a transformation. If the rich man was concerned enough to dismiss the dishonest manager in the beginning, he should be infuriated when he hears about the fraud. It’s his loss! Where is his righteous indignation? Where is his willingness to throw the law-book at this guy? But instead, surprisingly to everyone he praises the dishonest manager’s actions, calling him “shrewd.” It’s almost as if he says, “this guy is really good, and if I were smart, I’d hire someone just like him!” So what is the rich man up to? And even more, what might Jesus be up to?

So let’s think about this for a moment. Jesus in Luke’s gospel, in particular, has a serious beef with rich people. In fact, there’s pretty good biblical and gospel evidence to suggest that all “wealth” is “dishonest wealth.” In that regard, the usual and customary response would be that the rich man in the parable would be considered the “bad guy.” And again, some interpreter’s will presume this is still the case by pointing to the praise that gets heaped on the “dishonest manager” who ends up cutting the poorer people a break by allowing them to pay less than what they owe.

But the rich man doesn’t play by the “rich man’s” rules. Rather than be morally indignant because he gets defrauded, he joins the praise chorus, calling the guy who ripped him off, “shrewd”—as if he was smart enough to figure out how to act in his own self-interest. But by praising the dishonest manager, the rich man seems to change sides. But Jesus doesn’t seem to play by the rules, either. He seems to join the parable itself by siding with the rich man’s praise of the dishonest manager. This is the part that makes us dis-comfortable with the parable itself. But I think Jesus and Luke have another idea. By siding with the rich man’s praise, Jesus seems to shift the focus.

How often do we notice Jesus seeming to take sides here? And because Jesus jumps in on the side of the rich man, it means he isn’t taking the side of the dishonest manager—who by every measure is still dishonest. It means that our first gut-reaction was right; the sleaze-ball is still a sleaze-ball—and we saw it coming. But the sleaze-ball isn’t the rich man [surprise!]. Still, there’s iron in these words; and the hard lesson is still out there.

The rich man in THIS parable appears to be a-typical. Instead of reacting harshly at being defrauded, it’s as if he laughs it off—even praising the one who defrauded him. What’s wrong with this picture?—at least that’s what we ought to be asking ourselves AND the text. The story, simply as it’s told, doesn’t seem to turn out right. But the text offers us a few clues for another take.

Jesus has been teaching and preaching a different kind of life. Essentially, the Kingdom of God has different rules of living. It’s like some of Jesus’ other hard-edged teachings, like “selling our possessions and giving the money to the poor;” or, “none of you can become my disciple if you do not give up your possessions.” This particular parable would seem to place a “dishonest manager” in the hero’s role; one who would act shrewdly in order to protect his living. But instead, the story is undone when the rich man steps outside of his role. He moves, from one driven by his wealth and riches, to one who is seemingly cares little for them—allowing them to be given away by a shrewd and dishonest employee—as if the wealth suddenly belonged to someone else!

I believe that the rich man has suddenly experienced a change of heart. Though Luke’s telling of the story doesn’t exactly follow through with all the details, it appears the rich man is stepping out of his pre-conceived role as a “rich man” and Jesus is stepping out of his role as only the savior of the poor. As Jesus takes the side of the rich man, he seems to indicate that the rich man is where the Kingdom of God has suddenly taken up residence [surprise!]. Which as strange as it might seem to us, it’s the rich man who becomes the true apprentice of Jesus and the lifestyle of the Kingdom of God!

It’s the rich man—not the dishonest manager—who recognizes Jesus’ call to live a new life. The rich man who exhibits the proper “change” from the beginning of the parable to the end. The rich man, who becomes the Kingdom of God in deed, refusing to retaliate against the dishonest manager who defrauded him; the rich man who demonstrates what it means to take up a new way of living. And this kind of reading “matches” the parable of the prodigal which appears right before the telling of this story—where again the “rich man” appears out of character. This also matches the readings that will follow, where Jesus teaches against loving money and the lavishness of wealth.

In the end, the parable of the dishonest manager anticipates a change of heart for the rich man—demonstrating one who is intentional about living in new ways. And because Jesus’ gospel view is that all wealth is “dishonest,” the rich man can take no issue with having been defrauded. He allows his lost wealth to be lost, demonstrating his willingness to follow Jesus advice about making friends with dishonest wealth and Jesus declaration that one cannot have two masters.

And so, this parable ultimately makes us uncomfortable because again, Jesus is after OUR wealth, too. Yet again Jesus takes issue with how we live our lives and cling to the things of this world. Yet again Jesus would seek to turn us toward God and God’s kingdom as a way to live in the here and now—like a rich man who can give up the angst of being defrauded, and find the joy in being led home—even by one who acts dishonestly—IF, we can remember that Jesus is calling us to meet the joy of the Kingdom of God in our living, too.


--+ Brothers and Sisters, God sent God’s son, the Christ, who declares for us the ways of the Kingdom of God. It’s not always as it seems to us; sometimes we’re forced to encounter the teaching of a hard edge, where Jesus transforms us—from the ways of the world, to the life of the Kingdom of God. Once again, we just have to consider giving up our wealth, or allowing it to be given away for us. AMEN.

Audio Link and Sermon Manuscript for Sunday, September 12, 2010

If you'd like to listen to my sermon from Sunday, September 12th, please click on the link below to download the audio file. 

http://www.box.net/shared/fedxh34u61


The manuscript I used follows below: 




The Twenty-Fourth Sunday of Ordinary Time; September 12, 2010
Park Avenue Presbyterian Church; Des Moines, Iowa
Texts: Jeremiah 4: 11-12, 22-28
Psalm 14
1 Timothy 1: 12-17
Luke 15: 1-10 *

“ “This fellow welcomes sinners and eats with them.”  And I tell you, there was grumbling.”

--} No matter what else I might say today, I think Luke points us in the right direction of understanding chapter 15 when he begins:

“Now all the tax collectors and sinners were coming near to listen to him. And the Pharisees and the scribes were grumbling and saying, “This fellow welcomes sinners and eats with them”.”

Now I figure the problem is, that I’m a Christian. I choose to follow Jesus, I refer to him as “Lord, Savior, Friend,” and I’m just accustomed to thinking and believing that the Lord Jesus Christ can simply eat with whomever he wants to. What! It’s not my business! Jesus can eat with whomever he wants to. I just don’t see what all the fuss is about! Huh!!!

Isn’t that how we see it? Well…!

If only we could say, “Jesus—you eat with whomever you want to,” and be done with it. But Jesus ISN’T playing by those rules. You see, the trick is—and I think the Pharisees and scribes were on to him—that Jesus is eating with whomever he wants to; but, it means that he either isn’t eating with “us,” or, he is wanting “us” to eat with him—AND, “them.” And there, maybe, is the rub.

I believe the implication for us is that the people Jesus likes to eat with, should be the same people we like to eat with. Except, we don’t like to eat with those people! We know who they are. And I think there’s no two ways about it—if we’re grumbling about “those people,” we’re really grumbling about Jesus. If we don’t want to eat with “those people,” we’re really refusing Jesus. And if we’re “refusing Jesus…,” well, unfortunately there are too many so-called “Christians” out there who would tell us we’re going straight to hell for that.

Thankfully, that isn’t what Jesus says—at all! Instead, Jesus tells parable after parable—so that maybe we can “find ourselves” in them.

“Which one of you, having a hundred sheep and losing one of them, does not leave the ninety-nine in the wilderness and go after the one that is lost until he finds it? When he has found it, he lays it on his shoulders and rejoices. And when he comes home, he calls together his friends and neighbors, saying to them, ‘Rejoice with me, for I have found my sheep that was lost.’

“Or what woman having ten silver coins, if she loses one of them, does not light a lamp, sweep the house, and search carefully until she finds it? When she has found it, she calls together her friends and neighbors, saying, ‘Rejoice with me, for I have found the coin that I had lost.’

Maybe you see yourself, or somehow find God in the face of a lowly shepherd, in charge of the smelly, head-strong sheep; or the woman, likely a widow, whose “life savings” or “net worth” seem to add up to only 10 days worth of work. Maybe you think of yourself as that smelly sheep, somehow lost or injured, and how good it feels to have the shepherd come and find you. Or perhaps, you imagine what it must be like to be fussed over like the coin; with someone dropping everything else, to sweep the whole house and not do anything else until you are found, and restored safe and sound. Maybe you even think of yourself as a friend or neighbor invited into the joyous celebration—a party, like you’re the honored guest.

But Jesus is really more pointed than that, isn’t he? “Which one of you, having a hundred sheep and losing one of them, does not leave the ninety-nine in the wilderness and go after the one that is lost until he finds it?” And most of the time we end up talking about “how” the person in charge of the sheep could do this “crazy thing” of leaving the 99 sheep behind to go out and look for the one that is lost. I mean if you’re looking to cover all your bases, it’s “smarter” just to let the one go and try not to loose any more of the 99 remaining, isn’t it? But this isn’t about the odds. This isn’t really about the lost one being found, and yet it is. Pay very careful attention to Jesus telling the story. Notice what happens when the one sheep is “found.”

“When he has found it, he lays it on his shoulders and rejoices. And when he comes home, he calls together his friends and neighbors, saying to them, ‘Rejoice with me, for I have found my sheep that was lost’.”

It’s true that the one sheep is found; but it also seems that the one sheep isn’t returned to the other 99. Jesus tells us, “When he has found it, he lays it on his shoulders, and when he comes HOME…” And as strange as it sounds, the other 99 seem to be abandoned! The lost sheep, upon being found, is taken home and a celebration ensues. And the other 99? …Who knows what happens to them! After all, Jesus’ point is that the 99 are not in need.



The point, it seems, appears to be different from our assumptions.

“Which of you?”, asks Jesus, does this?

And if we’re honest, the only answer is, “not I.” We’re not like the one who leaves the 99 in search of the lost one. That’s Jesus’ point.

“Not I,” we must say, because the joy to which Jesus calls us is only something the Kingdom of God can inspire in us/with us/for us. It is not something we can do for ourselves.


In the same way, “What woman?”, asks Jesus, is like the one who sweeps the house for the coin?

And again, if we’re honest, “none that we know.”

Because this joy to which Jesus calls us is only found in/of the Kingdom of God. It is not in our nature, our human nature. It is only found as we are transformed… refashioned to be Kingdom people.

Jesus’ point, I believe, is that when we are transformed, then we are kingdom people—who need to show no fear, who can be undaunted in the face of many things, who can be moved to welcome and eat with the same people Jesus does.

I think that’s what Luke wants to demonstrate for believers about sinners and repentance. It’s not about being “lost” and then “found”—no matter how good that kind of story sounds or feels. It’s about what happens to us along the way. It’s the transformation. It’s not the lost sheep or the lost coin that gets transformed; it’s the person who leaves the 99 sheep, finds the 1, then heads for home to celebrate. It’s the woman who sweeps the house until the lost coin is recovered; then calls the neighbors to celebrate. And without the Kingdom of God, neither one is looked upon as trustworthy! In that respect, both of these characters share something with the “sinners” Jesus is welcoming and eating with.

As we hear these stories, while there’s something endearing about the one who finds the lost sheep and the woman who recovers her coin, the truth is that neither of them gets interpreted correctly in our time. The relationship between sinners and Jesus is one of transformation. And all too often, our “objection” is like the Pharisees—demanding the change be evident long before any welcome should be extended. But Jesus seems to demonstrate that it’s the Kingdom of God—itself—that has the ability to change the world—AND transform sinners. So that we see Jesus unhindered and showing no fear, even in welcoming and eating with sinners, or whomever else he wants to. And so can we.

My friend Chris Levan talks about the nursery school rules about sinfulness and forgiveness we continue to perpetuate into adulthood. That too often we try to implement a belief that we as human beings are so bad, so sin-prone, that we need Jesus to make us right—as if “forgiveness” were held out as some kind of “hoop” we have to jump through in order to be welcomed. But really, he says, we need to simply recognize that God in Jesus is calling us to live the kingdom life—no matter who we are, or what we’ve done. It isn’t our inherent “badness” that needs to be remedied by Jesus; instead, we need to hear the Kingdom’s welcome, and join the meal.

Too often, we think such grace of repentance and forgiveness promised to everyone is going to result in someone “undeserving” gaining the benefits of heaven. We wouldn’t want that! But Jesus’ view is that the Kingdom of God changes lives and transforms the world. The Kingdom of God calls all people to be changed, to live lifestyles of discovery, joy and celebration. And it isn’t a call simply to “go back,” or a return to the way it was; it’s a call that leads us out of life in this world, and into the life of the Kingdom of God. And the kingdom accomplishes this with the welcome or Christ and a meal.

The Kingdom of God compels us with a welcome and a meal. Even as we might think there are some things and people who “don’t belong.” So we know, whether it’s controversial religious issues, complicated political advertising, or contagious views of people who are generally poor and sinful—we know what it’s like to look down our long noses at people who seem “less deserving” than we would think of ourselves; we know what it’s like to judge others “less pure” or least justified.

But just so we’re clear. Just so we see that Jesus is clear. The Kingdom of God isn’t hung up on our distractions. The lost being found results in joy—always and everywhere. Perhaps our question ought to be, why is that joy not ours, too?


--+ Brothers and Sisters, God sent God’s son, the Christ. We often greet him in joy; but he is calling us to welcome “them” with the same joy. How long will we let our grumbling greet Christ’s joy? Jesus eats with whomever he pleases, and invites us to the party. What’s not to like. Who’s not to love. Why can’t we share? AMEN.

Audio Link and Sermon Manuscript for Sunday, September 05, 2010

If you'd like to hear the sermon from September 5th, 2010, click on the link below and download the audio file: 

http://www.box.net/shared/8e30nzbgtv


For your convenience, the manuscript I used is also provided below: 



The Twenty-Third Sunday of Ordinary Time; September 05, 2010
Park Avenue Presbyterian Church; Des Moines, Iowa
Texts: Jeremiah 18: 1-11
Psalm 139: 1-6, 13-18
Philemon 1-21
Luke 14: 25-33 *

“Luke: What’s In Your Wallet”

--} Luke’s Jesus appears to be a direct assault on us and our values this morning. In what is clearly unique and pointed language, Luke employs a trifecta of double-negatives to tell his story:

Jesus says, “Whoever does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, yes, and even life itself, cannot be my disciple. Whoever does not carry the cross and follow me cannot be my disciple. [If you do not give up all your possessions, you cannot become my disciple.]”

In fact, it’s such an assault, it sounds a lot like Ben Baldanza—the CEO of Spirit Airlines who told congress last month that “bringing luggage on vacation was not essential to travel”—that his airline was “helping the poor fly” by charging up to $45 for passengers to place a carry-on bag in the overhead bin. And while many people were “outraged” at the idea of having to pay as much as $45 to stow what is essentially an oversized purse, few detractors seemed to recognize Jesus standing in quiet agreement—eying our possessions with a tsk, tsk of disapproval.



The problem is, most of us DON’T hear or see Jesus that way at all.



While today’s reading from Luke’s gospel is unmistakably difficult, when we stumble across this collection of sayings, even the most ardent of believers wants to doubt its literalness. Before you believe the Bible is completely, infallibly true, you have to check your wallet—because here’s a passage that all the biblical literalists out there hope and pray isn’t right! None of us really believe it’s particularly Christian discipleship to have to hate our families, carry the crosses we’ll die upon, and we’re liberate ourselves from our “things”—especially our houses, cars, investment accounts and i-phones—no matter what the Bible tells us Jesus says.

Perhaps that’s why most sermons you’ll ever hear on this passage have to do with other things, like “measuring the cost of discipleship,” or implying that with such a “burden to bear” we’d better redouble our efforts to be ready to pay for it—or else!” Such sermons make us try harder, work longer, toil and strain for what I believe Jesus says is rightfully “impossible.” Because no one seems to ever want to admit that Jesus means what he says in verses 26, 27, and 33—“if you do not hate, carry, and give up… you cannot be my disciple.” And this isn’t the only place Jesus challenges us by saying things like this!

We Americans have always treated “faith” like a work; as if “discipleship” had some kind of special designation with salvific results. That is if we focus on becoming “disciples,” and work hard at it, we can be saved. And so to hear Jesus threaten that we somehow “cannot be his disciple,” makes most of us cringe. But notice instead how Luke seems to have created this story from several of Jesus’ sayings. Verses 26, 27, and 33—the part about “if you do not, you cannot”—seem to go together; but the other sayings about “estimating, measuring, and first considering” are just smooshed into the middle, as if they belong, when they really don’t.

As harsh as it sounds, I believe Jesus is really trying to tell us, “you cannot be my disciples.” This sounds completely antithetical to our way of life—and it is. Just as much as giving up all of our possessions or hating our families! Jesus isn’t talking to the disciples, he’s talking to the crowds; and he isn’t offering them delusions of grandeur, he’s proclaiming—it would seem to me—that because they are prone to estimating, measuring, considering first, and planning,” that they won’t make good disciples. Discipleship and the Kingdom of God can’t be analyzed and measured thusly; the ministry of the Kingdom of God can’t be estimated and planned for that way.

As strange as it seems, Jesus appears to be asking the crowds to consider something different—not to measure the “cost of discipleship,” but instead to be empowered followers in a new kind of life. We often think “disciples” are those who follow Jesus to the cross and his death; but we often forget that none of the so-called “disciples” died with Jesus. What if Jesus were re-defining “discipleship?” So that the Christian community isn’t just about retracing the routes of suffering and death, but is instead called to move boldly away from the cross into new life? If so, what might that new life look like?

I think Luke’s point is that it would be about “counting the cost”—as if we could afford to pay it. Instead, Luke seems to be showing us what Jesus did, who Jesus was, and the possibilities of living in the ways he teaches. Jesus healed people, fed them, taught, worked, but still had no place to lay his head. Jesus doesn’t ask us to only be LIKE him, but to share the things we witness him doing and teaching—so that hearts and lives might be changed like ours have!

Luke’s suggestion for believers and followers comes in stark contrast to Matthew’s vision where believers are commissioned to “make disciples.” For Luke, “making disciples” isn’t the church’s goal; but instead, believers and followers are called to “be witnesses.” And what Luke has in mind isn’t our learning to be like Jesus as much as it is giving witness to who Jesus is and what he does: healing people; feeding people; going bravely to Jerusalem and taking on the establishments of his day, but falling victim to cultural and societal norms, suffering and dying but being raised. Luke wants “followers” to become witnesses—to tell Jesus’ story, to share Jesus’ good news. And it’s in this way that Luke’s Jesus hits us the hardest—challenging our assumptions about faith and church with hating our families, cross bearing, and possessions.

But we don’t recognize the voice of Jesus, do we.

This last week when word came that a second oil platform had exploded in the Gulf of Mexico and as Hurricane Earl began churning toward the East Coast, surely you saw the same pictures I did of people clamoring to “save their possessions;” and I bet most of us still drove our cars to church this morning. In the face of Jesus’ words, our culture and society teaches us that we can have more and more and more, and that “possession” is nine-tenths of the law.

But we don’t think Jesus was right, do we.

Because as the politicians scramble for the best sound bites, trying to prove who has “family values,” most of us only sigh, “here we go again.” And where Iowa seems destined to be forced to talk about constitutional amendments against same-sex marriage, health-care and education that should be denied the children of undocumented workers, and whether or not it’s fair to talk about a candidate’s personal life as a part of the campaign—few of us are brazen enough to remind folks about Jesus’ words of hating parents, spouses, children, and life itself, might make the campaign easier!

Nor do we want to end up like Jesus, do we.

So on this holiday weekend, even though the plight of “laborers” and the job-less are at all time lows, when we’ve ended combat operations in Iraq but still stand by soldiers fighting, being injured and dying in Afghanistan, we surely don’t want our cookouts bothered by Jesus reminding us about the uneasiness of bearing the burden of the cross.

So consider this.

Recently in the mist of our privileged and busy lives as Americans, we’ve heard about devastating floods in Pakistan. There’s been flooding in Iowa along the way, too—we’ve seen the pictures and probably know folks personally who’ve been affected. But when it’s all the way on the other side of the world, the pictures don’t do us justice. Numbers recently compiled by the United Nations indicate that more than 20 million people have been affected by the flooding in Pakistan. 20 MILLION—that’s more than the 2004 Tsunami, the 2005 Kashmir earthquake in the same region, our own Hurricane Katrina, and the 2010 Earthquake in Haiti—combined!

Think of this, that while each of these disasters individually garnered huge headlines and accompanying all-out fundraising campaigns, the response to Pakistan more recently has been muted. While people are clinging to life by their very fingernails, in our comfortableness, we have more concern about the security of driving our cars and protecting our many possessions! And we dare to think things like language and religion are the things that divide people!

What might happen if we gave Jesus’ words a little more credence—and we began loving more people than just our own families, were willing to bear more burdens in common, and lost our grip on only SOME of our possessions to pay for it all. Jesus says, doesn’t he, that if we weren’t so attached to our families, if we weren’t willing to die in so many ditches, if we weren’t so hell-bent to possess so much, we might actually be able to bring along the Kingdom of God!



Today, I think many of us will see or hear that television commercial for the credit card with the ugly Vikings or other who dare asking us, “what’s in your wallet.” Because if you carry the right card, buying, spending, possession, even “hoarding” can result in more fun—you too can vacation with Vikings!

But Luke’s Jesus seems to be asking too, “what’s in our wallet.” He isn’t checking to see if we’re carrying a card that will identify us as “disciples of Jesus.” Instead, Jesus wants to see inside our wallets; because if there’s anything else in there aside from lint… we should be telling the world what we’ve witnessed in Jesus Christ. If you open your wallet, truly, and you’ve got lint, congratulations. You win a prize. But for the rest of us… anything but lint, and we need to be giving witness in all we do to the life of Jesus. [With our money, with our families, with those who are bearing burdens.] So that this world can be healed, fed, and afforded the values of the Kingdom of God.



--+ Brothers and Sisters, God sent God’s son, the Christ; while we greet him in joy, he challenges our assumptions about life and living. The bread of heaven calls us to be witnesses to God’s love, to share the sacred cup with brothers and sisters in need. It doesn’t require our faith, but rather, to be followers of Jesus. The cost isn’t high, but the words are hard; the deeds and lessons should be more than our possessions. AMEN.

Audio Link and Sermon Manuscript for Sunday, August 29th

If you're intested in hearing my sermon from Sunday, Sugust 29th, you can click the link below and download the audio file. 

http://www.box.net/shared/54reqfuxar


Our congregation celebrated Worship in the Park today, gathering not at our building, but in a local park, worshipping out doors and enjoying God's creation.  Worship was followed by a church picnic. 

The manuscript I used follows below: 




The Twenty-Second Sunday of Ordinary Time; August 29, 2010
Park Avenue Presbyterian Church; Des Moines, Iowa [Worship in the Park]
Texts: Jeremiah 2: 4-13
Psalm 81: 1, 10-16
Hebrews 13: 1-8, 15-16
Luke 14: 1, 7-14 *

“Disrupting Sabbath Peace with a fancy Sabbath Dinner”

--} My hunch is that Luke’s story for us today has something to do with Sabbath observances. Luke tells us specifically at verse 1 that Jesus has been invited to Sabbath dinner at the home of one of the Pharisees. And because of the previous confrontation over Sabbath rituals, Luke points out that the Pharisees and other Jewish leaders, “were watching Jesus closely—as if expecting Jesus to break more Sabbath rules. And much like he did in last week’s lesson, verses 2-6 point again to Jesus’ willingness to heal people on the Sabbath—continuing to disrupt familiar patterns and inviting us to encounter the kingdom of God on new terms.

The story Luke shares with us today reports that Jesus was going to the house of a leader of the Pharisees to eat a Sabbath meal. Sabbath celebrations are generally marked by 3 meals, with the largest gathering and most significant meal (the one you invited folks in for) being on Friday evening. And it’s apparently on the way that Jesus noticed the man with dropsy and healed him—to be sure, a less offensive act than healing someone at Sabbath services on Saturday, but still…. And while Jesus doesn’t cause a scene over dinner with other miraculous works or outspoken commentary on the Torah, he does seem to continue his disruptiveness by trying to teach those present the proper invitational etiquette. Jesus has been invited to the special Sabbath meal, and spends his time—small-talking or otherwise—essentially telling folks they shouldn’t throw parties like this!

Here, Jesus’ preference for the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind is nothing new; but it disrupts the way people generally think about their celebratory moments. Wedding banquets and dinner parties are important events of status; and it’s never likely that the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind are invited to share the spoils of the wealthy. And if we were to pay attention to Jesus’ storied advice, we’d notice Jesus asking typical party-goers to step aside while the places of honor are afforded those of dishonor. How disruptive and offensive that must have sounded to most of those folks at the dinner—including the host. And it’s a wonder Jesus doesn’t get kicked to the curb!

But for Jesus sabbath seems to serve as an important occasion for thinking differently. Sabbath after all has its roots in two important moments—creation, where God “rests” on the seventh day from all the work of creation; and God’s covenantal commandments, given to the Israelites on their wilderness journey after God had rescued them from Egypt, where God says,

“Remember the sabbath day, and keep it holy. Six days you shall labor and do all your work. But the seventh day is a sabbath to the LORD your God; you shall not do any work—you, your son or your daughter, your male or female slave, your livestock, or the alien resident in your towns. For in six days the LORD made heaven and earth, the sea, and all that is in them, but rested the seventh day; therefore the LORD blessed the sabbath day and consecrated it.”

And it was also during the wilderness journey that the Israelites were introduced to something I call sabbath-provision. You’ll recall the story when the people complain about not having enough food and water, and having been convinced they’d soon die in the wilderness, rather than long for deliverance they yearn instead for the “food of captivity” in Egypt. But God feeds God’s people with the manna bread that comes down from heaven and gives life. The rule about the manna though, was that on the sixth day, twice as much was provided to be gathered, so that on the seventh day food did not have to be collected and thus, “sabbath” could be observed.

The early tenants of sabbath-keeping were “rest” and relying on God’s provision. And at least part of God’s intention seemed to be that of marking or setting apart God’s people by a special day for rest, gratitude, and enjoyment—confident that God would provide enough for our needs. That familiar phrasing of the Lord’s prayer, “give us this day our daily bread,” finds its roots in such sabbath observance, too.

But fast-forward to Jesus’ day, and a different sabbath observance had developed. The years of exile forced Jews to modify their practices as well as enact elaborate rituals. Taking a “day off” was something quite foreign to other cultures and peoples. Sabbath-keeping was one of the few things Jews could practice that could identify them fully with God’s intentions. Every sabbath became a reminder of God’s providing—especially in difficult times; and the people CELEBRATED. The best china; elaborate rituals; prayers of hope for better times; the anticipation of the day that God would make things right, again. It was like a min-passover celebration each week!

But in Jesus’ time, the Romans had a different, more elaborate, wealthy lifestyle. And my hunch is that high-ranking Jewish officials yearned for a status more Roman-esque. Herod the Great, the big Roman official who ruled Palestine at the beginning of the first century, had converted to Judaism and had rebuilt the Temple. And I imagine sabbath-keeping also became shaped not just by the reminders of rest and God’s provision, but became a time to show off one’s status and wealth—Roman-esque style. And so not just with your family, the sabbath celebrations might be shared with business associates, politicians, and others. Even sabbath dinner, could become more like a social engagement rather than a religious obligation.

In part, that’s kind of what I think Jesus is reacting too. His advice points to celebrations that seem to focus on gratitude and thanksgiving rather than status and position. It’s not about making ourselves look good, but serving the desires of God which seems to be the behavior Jesus is encouraging by his critique. Imagine—if you will—a return to sabbath principles of old. Trusting God to provide for our needs; resting; tending to the needs of re-creation. Sabbath is one of the practices that God initiates. God observes sabbath; and human beings are invited to emulate God in the same practices. God, not only demonstrating discipline to “rest” on the seventh day, but God who holds the needs of all people to be important—including care and support for the poor, the crippled, the lame and the blind.

For Christians, one of the observances that ties us directly to God is also found in a familiar meal—with special bread, a special cup, and the promise of God being with us and restoring us. And not just a table that we spread in church, but rather the many tables we share that reflect for us the sabbath images. Today, we don’t have our finest china or our most daring table service, we aren’t celebrating communion with a small piece of the bread and a tiny measure of wine; nonetheless, we celebrate God’s abundant provision. We will sit at table together, in much the manner as I imagine our Jewish brothers and sisters welcome sabbath with a Shabbat dinner. In all of this, God calling us to remember our creator, and the purposes for which God intended human beings.

That song we sang a bit ago, reminds us of the journey of a pilgrim, one who is invited to follow, to meet and share with others, to rest and remember. And my hunch is, that Jesus wanted believers and followers to entertain something similar. To be marked by God with unique observances that point to God and not just to ourselves. To be marked by our willingness to invite and entertain even the poor, the crippled, the lame and the blind. For us to invite them, not because it’s a nice thing, but because together with them, we are all a measure of God’s kingdom.

What if everytime we gave a dinner, or attended a dinner—or a breakfast or a lunch—we could remember that it’s in part, God’s dinner, too. That we are called to emulate God—not only by religious observances, but by care-taking of the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind; not only by eating special meals, but sharing what we’ve been given with those around us; not by trying to make ourselves better than we are, but welcoming God to change us back to the people God intended in creation.


--+ Brothers and Sisters, God sent God’s son, the Christ, who gives to us the Kingdom of God as bread that comes down from heaven and gives life to the world—bread and cup showing forth the historic promises of God in creation and our provision—and meals by which to remember that we are all God’s people. Let us taste and see that God is good. Thanks be to God. AMEN.

Audio Link and Sermon Manuscript for Sunday, August 22nd

If you'd like to listen to my sermon from worship on Sunday, August 22nd, 2010, please click the link below and download the audio file: 


http://www.box.net/shared/smhzjzi3p3


The sermon manuscript follows below: 



The Twenty-First Sunday of Ordinary Time; August 22, 2010
Park Avenue Presbyterian Church; Des Moines, Iowa
Texts: Jeremiah 1: 4-10
Psalm 71: 1-6
Hebrews 12: 18-29
Luke 13: 10-17 *

“Reprioritizing Antics”

--} I wonder… which Jesus it was that the crowds saw? Was it the Jesus the woman crippled by a spirit for 18 years saw when she was healed? Jesus—the “healer;” Jesus—the “miracle-worker;” Jesus—the restorer? Or was it the Jesus witnessed by the indignant leader of the synagogue—crippled apparently by his own values about Sabbath observances—seeing Jesus helping the “daughter of Abraham” by healing her on the Sabbath—“breaking the law”, so-to-speak? Jesus—the “law-breaker;” Jesus—the “rabble-rouser;” Jesus—the “trouble-maker”? And which is the Jesus that we see… today?

Inevitably, this choice of vision or “how” we see the story, determines not only “what” we see but therefore, “what” this passage might mean for US, too. Just what did the crowds “see” and understand. Did they see Jesus, the one who can heal people—like the daughter of Abraham, crippled by that spirit for 18 years; so that we can say, “Jesus heals people,” or maybe even, “Jesus can heal us”? Did they “see” Jesus making Sabbath exceptions—with authority to simply set aside long-standing Sabbath rules, or who can even re-legislate the law on God’s behalf or the people’s behalf? Or, did the crowds “see” Jesus as someone coming to show that God’s laws and rituals can change over time as new things become more important; observing too how quickly Jesus “noticed” this woman and sought to fix her problem—no questions asked? Jesus does this; but do we?

So I wonder… did the crowds rejoice at the “healing” and other acts of kindness Jesus was doing; …or did they rejoice because Jesus was building bridges over the walls that divided people—walls that other people had worked very hard to build in the first place? Would the people who witnessed Jesus’ antics first-hand be thinking about the broader implications of these acts? Not only that the woman was healed, but the conflict of the “healing” with long-held Sabbath observances? How should we see it? And do we think about the ramifications for our own time and place?

What long-held traditions might be “at risk” if we simply went about healing and fixing things, declaring and laying on hands—like Jesus does? Which Jesus do we really see?


But we’ve beheld these kinds of healings before—you and I. At the beginning of Jesus’ ministry on the shores of the Sea of Galilee, in Nazareth, along the Jordan River—Jesus laying on hands, declaring one way or another “faith has healed,” and not everyone was happy. We’ve also watched Jesus flaunt other ritual observances and Sabbath laws. So is there something that makes this healing or this Sabbath rule-breaking different or more important? What is Jesus really up to?

I believe Jesus is here-by inviting us to consider that the Kingdom of God is about setting people free. Whether it be physical ailments, demonic spirits, repressive Sabbath laws, or bad theology—the Kingdom of God calls into question our non-participation in the granting of freedom and new life.

I also believe Jesus is here-by inviting us to consider that time-honored laws, rituals, and traditions also require having our priorities straight about them. As Jesus demonstrates clearly, a right-ordering of our traditional observances reveals God’s Kingdom principles. In the Kingdom of God, a woman’s health and ability to participate in community rank higher than what is considered “work” on the Sabbath, or the “convenience” of the synagogue leadership. This may mean that someone has to work on the Sabbath, yes—but people already have to work on the Sabbath; this might mean that healing people or “setting people free” is also a Sabbath ritual that brings joy to the kingdom of God.

I also believe that to simply give the day and the argument over to Jesus and act as if his antics are really “no big deal,” seems to miss the point. The objection raised by the leader of the synagogue is a fair one; and Jesus isn’t saying, “it doesn’t matter.” Instead, Jesus is saying, “it isn’t the highest priority.” Here, the needs of “a daughter of Abraham” trump the prohibition against healing on a Sabbath; because as Jesus “sees,” healing this woman is at least as necessary or even MORE important as the care-taking of the livestock. For Jesus, Sabbath laws are generous about leading an animal to drink on the Sabbath; it is equally generous about the necessity of “healing.” Both are necessary. Jesus is saying similarly to the community of faith, “neglect anyone’s needs, and you neglect your relationship with God.” Both are necessary.



Yet, to arrive at “this” conclusion… that BOTH the healing and a deferment of the rules are required—leaves US in a strange place. Do we realize what Luke is declaring for us? Asking us to lay hands not only on a “breaking of the rules,” but that we might also go out of our way to “release” the bonds of those who are en-captured? And the risks may be extraordinary.

• Who are the people it is “necessary” for us to intervene for, to touch with our hands or otherwise release; for whom our action is REQUIRED?
• Which rules of ours ought to be deferred by our same hands, so that the reign of God might become more real to us and be revealed by us?

Thus, mustn’t we not only consider the plight, but also seek to lay our hands on those such as these—in a manner like unto Jesus:

• Like the children of undocumented workers, who need the resources of education and health-care; who have been brought into our country because they are CHILDREN, not to flaunt our laws and cause us pain, but because their parents believed in a better way of life?
• Of whom we’ve been told, “it will cost US too much.”
• Of whom we’ve been told, “it’s against the law.”
• Of whom we’ve been told, “they don’t deserve our help.”

• Like Palestinians and Israelis, whose leaders authorize the use of weapons and force, who threaten life and property in the discourse and violence of war.
• Yet both Israeli sons and daughters are heirs of Abraham; so, too, Palestinian children.
• To both sides, God promises “faithfulness.”
• Yet, we’re often told, we have to “choose one life over the other.”

• Or dare I mention the host of other peoples and issues about which we might dare withhold the touch of our hands—afraid others might criticize our purposeful faith in Jesus:
• That people who lose their job means you didn’t work hard enough, do well enough, and don’t deserve a third chance, or fourth—even if your children fall victim to your circumstances; [I met someone last week who’s husband was on his fourth job THIS YEAR—because of various layoffs]
• We love helping CROSS Ministries, and the back to school supply drive, but did you know that in order to receive supplies, people have to first “prove” they are poor enough to participate?
• Devastated people in Haiti; devastated people in Pakistan; we were moved to generosity by one tragedy, not so much by the other.
• Healthcare, afforded to some of us, but not all of us—at least not in the same way or at the same cost.
• Or all those places where we’ve put up walls against certain kinds of people, for whom we don’t want “equality” to be truly shared, because of race, creed, orientation, or income.

So I wonder… if too often you and I are too comfortable “seeing” that it’s Jesus who heals people. That fact that “Jesus does it,” means we don’t have to. “Jesus heals people”—as if our attitude were like the synagogue leader declaring, “come on the other six days to be healed!” Or that we see Jesus proposing a change in the rules—as if anything goes, as long as we have a good reason—so that we are utterly unaccountable for any of our actions. Sunday worship: optional. Tithing: doesn’t have to mean 10% of our income—just as long as we give something in the offering, right? Or, “As long as my needs are met in worship, I don’t have to care about other people’s needs.” And too often, you and I “see” only one side or the other—whichever is our advantage, using the one to block the other. That BOTH would be NECESSARY, REQUIRED—freedom for the en-captured AND reprioritizing the rules? We hope not.


But Jesus, I believe, would very much have us reprioritize how we “see,” what is needed, and how we might respond. His antics aren’t one or the other, but demonstrate fully what the reign of God is all about. He acts—not to oppose the synagogue or Sabbath rituals—but will not neglect the obvious needs of the one held crippled, either. He is not held back by any force—demonic or human, worldly or divine. He offers the reign of God as if it were simply due—no more waiting required. And he gives notice to those who would stand in the way. But is this what the crowd is rejoicing over Jesus “about”? And if it is, what things might still be in our way—so that we can rejoice, too?


--+ Friends, God sent his son, the Christ, who declares for us the Kingdom of God—as if it were simply due, no questions asked. He not only tells us about it, he shows us what it’s like—even, what it MEANS. Setting people free; sometimes, understanding the rules rightly-ordered. Thanks be to God—who shows us the way. AMEN.

The Audio Link and sermon manuscript for Sunday, August 8th, 2010

"Dressed for a Post-Banquet Meal"--a sermon from Sunday, August 8th, 2010 at Park Avenue Presbyterian Church in Des Moines, Iowa. 

If you'd like to listen to the sermon as preached, click on this link and download: 

http://www.box.net/shared/ii8anznnc7


The manuscript, for reading or reading along, is below: 



The Nineteenth Sunday of Ordinary Time; August 08, 2010
Park Avenue Presbyterian Church; Des Moines, Iowa
Texts: Isaiah 1: 10-20
Psalm 50: 1-8, 22-23
Hebrews 11: 1-3, 8-16
Luke 12: 32-40 *

“Dressed for a Post-Banquet Meal”

--} More than offering Jesus-followers just “good advice,” I believe today’s reading from Luke chapter 12 is pointing us toward new rules for the Kingdom of God. Think with me for a moment; …what if Jesus’ statements about fear, selling possessions, giving alms, and “purses that don’t wear out” are not advice, but are IN FACT the outline for life lived in/near the Kingdom of God? How might that challenge our present lifestyle?

I suspect all of us might consider ourselves “OK” when it comes to giving alms—if we can count our church pledge; but my guess is that most of us—myself included—are not so “safe” in our assumptions when it comes to “fear” or “selling possessions” or having “purses that don’t wear out.” And again, not just something for us to consider; our expectation of Jesus and the in-breaking Kingdom of God are supposed to change our reality so that you and I are clearly demonstrating the values of God’s Kingdom rather than our own assumptions about what life is supposed to be about. Too often, our measure becomes our various “things” or the level at which we participate—a big house, an expensive car, a gold-platinum-diamond, super-deluxe “I’m Mr. important” VIP credit card, and the like.

So in the middle of today’s gospel lesson, that seems pointed at how we handle our money and possessions Luke inserts another of Jesus’ parable-ish stories:

“Be dressed for action and have your lamps lit; be like those who are waiting for their master to return from the wedding banquet, so that they may open the door for him as soon as he comes and knocks. Blessed are those slaves whom the master finds alert when he comes; truly I tell you, he will fasten his belt and have them sit down to eat, and he will come and serve them. If he comes during the middle of the night, or near dawn, and finds them so, blessed are those slaves.”

With the point that we’ve been taught to take away is that we’re called to “be dressed for action with lamps lit”—because blessed are the slaves that the master finds awake in the middle of the night, expecting his return. We all want to be the “blessed slaves,”—right? And to that end, the application would be for believers—for US—to “watch” and “be ready for action” when Jesus—the master—returns. That is, to be caught “awake” and not “sleeping”—remember the hapless disciples in Gethsamane who fell asleep?

But this isn’t the easiest of stories. What Jesus says about the matter of the master and the slaves is that for the slaves the master finds alert—in the middle of the night—the master will fasten his belt, have [the slaves] sit down to eat, and [the master] will come and serve them a meal! Notice the middle of verse 37 where Jesus says, “I tell you.” In Luke, the Greek words, legō hymin, “I tell you,” are believed by scholars to be a kind formula used by Luke to indicate a story’s actual point. This happens because Luke takes a story and re-shapes it in the gospel narrative in a way that may be slightly different than its original context. In any event, the point Luke appears to be signaling for us—to be the main point of the story—is not the “sage advice” about “being ready,” but is instead the REALITY of the Kingdom life we’re invited to be ready about.

If we think about it for just long enough, the striking part of Jesus’ story and Luke’s telling is the preposterous reality that the master would come home—in the middle of the night—find the slaves awake and alert, and suddenly the MASTER is compelled to go into the kitchen, fix a meal, and serve it to the slaves! That never happens, does it? The Master serving the slaves? What a strange kingdom, right? So how surprising is it that Luke seems to be saying: “the Kingdom that it’s God’s good pleasure to give to believers, is this kind of crazy backwards realm where masters end up serving the slaves? Think about that for a moment. “Masters serving slaves,” like “the first shall be last and the last, first;” or “the one who dies with the most toys doesn’t win… EVER!”

• …So that maybe this isn’t just a story about “getting ready for the return of the Master,” but encouragement to prepare for a kingdom reality that turns the rules of our world upside down.
• …Could Jesus be saying to us, things like “fear,” or “possessions” or “almsgiving” might not ultimately be “what” they seem to us in this world?
• …Where we live based on the values we ascribe to things in this life, maybe the Kingdom Jesus brings near to us (FOR us), offers a different assessment—“how much do we really trust God?”

I believe there’s a high probability that Luke is showing us a different way of relating to the Kingdom of God in the world in which we live. Which means we shouldn’t be “afraid” like we often are, we might not want to put as much stock in our “possessions”—as we often do, and our “almsgiving” (not JUST a monthly or weekly pledge) ought to look like we have purses that simply cannot, will not, and do not ever wear out! Which isn’t exactly what our lives often look like; which—of course—is where we began a few moments ago. And it’s WHY, I think Jesus’ words can’t be “sage advice,” but instead, must be IN FACT the building blocks for a new kind of relationship to and with God’s kingdom that must fundamentally change us.

And while I believe the probabilities are high that Jesus has something important to teach us about not being afraid, about how we live with our possessions and how we give alms—that rightfully should make us nervous about our lifestyle—the question I have about this new relationship to and with the Kingdom of God is really about how we can learn to “be ready” for such an improbable turn of events: when the master suddenly returns home where the slaves are still awake and ready, and the master literally turns the tables by fastening his belt and serving the slaves at table! It doesn’t seem enough to simply suggest that this is an illusion to Jesus feeding us at the Lord’s Table—the Master who bids us “come,” to “taste and see that God is good.” But how does this reality IN FACT become the place where our lives are indeed turned around—so that we are not afraid, so that we don’t cling to possessions, where we give alms—so that our purse doesn’t wear out and our treasure is unfailingly protected?

So here’s what I think Luke is up to. The Kingdom of God is on its way. At the very least, Luke wants believers to know that Jesus has brought the Kingdom near. But it’s like a thief in the night. If we knew the Kingdom was coming, and I mean really coming—say tomorrow—we’d sell our possessions right now!, give a big bunch of alms, and wouldn’t be afraid, right! Well, Luke is saying, “exactly.” If we could count on God’s Kingdom coming tomorrow we’d all live differently, today. Well, friends, here’s our chance to “live like it,” because the Kingdom is on its way. In fact, Jesus says, “it is God’s good pleasure to give us the Kingdom (verse 32).” So relax, right? “NO,” says Luke—BE CHANGED! Because Jesus also says, “sell your possessions and give alms (verse 33).” The point being that “where your treasure is, your heart will be also.”

The best way to say it is that Jesus is asking us to invest in the life and ways of the Kingdom of God. For us to be tied to what is coming, more than what is. For us to have faith in what God is doing. For us to ultimately “take sides.” To divest ourselves in the things of this world, and invest ourselves in the Kingdom that is God’s good pleasure to give to us! Because the master is returning—at an unexpected hour. The master is returning, and when he does, he promises to set us at table to feed us.

Brothers and sisters: the Kingdom of God is breaking into our world as surely as it is God who is giving it to us in Jesus. It comes unexpectedly, yet we have to be ready for it. But to be ready for it, we have to be prepared for our hearts to inhabit it. Which means—doesn’t it—that our present lifestyle has to undergo some kind of transformation?—so that we can be dressed for the post-banquet meal the Master is serving.

“It is God’s good pleasure to give us the Kingdom. Sell your possessions, and give alms. Make purses for yourselves that do not wear out, an unfailing treasure in heaven, where no thief comes near and no moth destroys. …Where blessed are those slaves whom the master finds alert when he comes; I tell you, he will fasten his belt and have them sit down to eat, and he will come and serve them.”

--+ Friends, God sent his son, the Christ, to bring near God’s kingdom and to give it to us. Just how much to we trust God—enough to do with less fear, fewer possessions, and more almsgiving? Enough that our lives can be changed by the things we no longer fear, or no longer have to possess, or no longer must hoard? Thanks be to God. AMEN.

Here's the audio link and manuscript for my sermon from Sunday, August 1st, 2010

"How to Manage a Miracle"--a sermon from Sunday, August 1st, 2010 at Park Avenue Presbyterian Church, Des Moines, Iowa. 

If you'd like to hear the sermon recorded during worship, click on the link below and download: 

http://www.box.net/shared/zb7kd9l8bk


The manuscript I used follows below: 


The Eighteenth Sunday of Ordinary Time; August 01, 2010

Park Avenue Presbyterian Church; Des Moines, Iowa
Texts: Hosea 11: 1-11
Psalm 107: 1-9, 43
Colossians 3: 1-11
Luke 12: 13-21 *

“How to Manage a Miracle”

--} When I was growing up, I really enjoyed watching “The Price is Right.” The best part was seeing someone play a game when the prize was… “a new car!” But the real joy was that if I was watching The Price is Right, either I was home from school, or it was summertime. Still, I managed two important lessons if I were ever to go on the show: First, the “retail price” was always “overpriced;” and then there was always my mother’s insistence that you “never wanted to really be a big winner.” That never sounded right to me, but mom understood that if you won, you had to pay extra income taxes—and you had to come up with that money somehow. You see, no one ever really “budgets” for unforeseen game show winnings, right? Just like the man in Jesus’ parable doesn’t “budget” storage space for the sudden and unforeseen super-abundant harvest.

Today’s reading from Luke’s gospel offers us two important lessons, too. First, there’s the meaning of Jesus’ parable in verses 16-21—as Jesus tells it; then, there’s the meaning Luke offers believers based on where Luke places the parable in its gospel context. And while on the surface, the plain reading seems to lend itself to the conclusion that Jesus advises his followers not to be greedy, I think both Jesus and Luke take us a step or two further.

Jesus’ parable is a story about an already wealthy man whose land has too much produce. And while that doesn’t sound right, the “big problem” is that he doesn’t have enough storage space for such an unusual, super-abundant harvest; so he’s got to figure out what to do. If you want a comparison reference, it’s like going on The Price is Right, and playing the Showcase Showdown, where your Showcase is, let’s say, a dozen Cadilacs—one from each decade that Cadilacs have been made. And, by stroke of fate or genius—you win. Now, what are you going to do with all those cars? Your garage isn’t big enough, right?

So, think for a moment. You can either be the already wealthy man in Jesus’ parable, or you can be the person who’s just won the dozen Cadilacs on The Price is Right (and you can forget about the tax implications for a moment). What are you going to do to either take care of the new-found produce? How might you solve the problem?

Then listen to the wealthy man’s solution in Jesus’ parable. He responds to the problem with drastic action, proposing not to simply build additional granaries or add on to his existing ones (which might make some sense); rather, he means to tear down the current ones and put up entirely new ones! It indicates not only his great wealth, but particularly, his ineptness. Having decided thusly, he presumes that the benefit of such a grand harvest is the completion of his work, and he can just sit back and be fat and happy. But what’s “wrong” with this picture isn’t just this man’s solution, but his inappropriate actions in response to God’s provision.

In Hebrew traditions there are a couple of stories that probably would have been in the mind of Jesus’ hearers. First is the story of Joseph in Egypt, where Joseph saved the Egyptians and the Israelites by “storing up a surplus from bountiful harvests.” But more than just building the storage space to accommodate this task, the observation Bernard Brandon Scott suggests would have been resident was that Jesus’ story of the rich fool turns on the idea that “a surplus implies a barren future.” What Jesus’ audience should have presumed was that such a super-abundant harvest was more than just good fortune. “…For those to whom much is given, much is required,” right? And the idea that this already wealthy man presumes to do nothing but sit back, fat and happy, would reveal his foolishness.

A second story Jesus’ hearers could have used to measure the parable by was the instruction about Sabbath preparations from Exodus. Again, Bernard Brandon Scott points out, “While the people were in the desert, on the sixth day they gathered twice as much manna, for on the Sabbath, a day of rest, they would find nothing in the field.” God had promised to feed the people, providing food that had to be gathered daily, but not at the expense of Sabbath requirements. So on the sixth day, there was a double-gift, intended to be used the following day—not for making one rich. In fact, for the Israelites who tried to gather “extra” beyond what God intended, the food spoiled or rotted—which seems akin to what happens to the man in Jesus’ parable who stores up riches only to have his life asked of him.

This particular story seems important to Luke’s context as well, where Jesus has been teaching the crowds about the fearlessness faith inspires by relying exclusively on God’s Holy Spirit! And beyond just the weekly Sabbath observance, the Deuteronomic and Levetical codes both explain that even every seventh year, God’s jubilee blessing mandates a repositioning of wealth—as loans are required to be forgiven, the “land” is required to have a fallow year, and God provides the means for living this different lifestyle that takes the welfare of the whole community into account.

By contrast, we note the actions of the already wealthy man in Jesus’ parable—presuming such a super-abundant harvest belongs only to him, with no other purpose aside from his own comfort. So that when God asks in verse 20, “And the things you have prepared, whose will they be?”, the only appropriate answer that should ring in the heads of Jesus’ audience would be, “those for whom they were originally intended.” The point being that wealth in and of itself is not particularly wrong, but that wealth always needs to be managed, understood, and used appropriately—in relationship to others. The parable seems to evidence that the bountiful harvest is God’s intention—meant for more than just one individual. But this man has suddenly presumed that it is “his wealth”—to his folly!

But when Luke tells this story about Jesus, he seems at first to plant Jesus’ story in the soil of “greediness.” In verse 15 Jesus says, “Take care! Be on your guard against all kinds of greed. For one’s life does not consist in the abundance of possessions.” Such “advice” seems true enough, matching well with other stories from the wisdom tradition about greed—one of the best known is a slightly different version of this parable in the Gospel of Thomas. But this isn’t Luke’s only point.

Luke creates the context where someone from the crowd is asking Jesus to weigh in on a family struggle—“tell my brother to divide the family inheritance with me. But Jesus’ response to this person is key to getting Luke’s point right. Before that line warning us about greed, Jesus answers the question with another question, “who set me to be a judge or arbiter over you?”

I think this is an important question, especially for those of us who would follow Jesus. How might we answer Jesus? Because I think the answer for us—more so than those in the crowd—is really something like, “well, we make you judge and arbiter over us, Jesus.” We give Jesus titles like, “Lord” and “Savior,” or “Prophet, Priest, and King”—doesn’t “Judge” or “arbiter” fit the list, too? And it’s at this point that I believe Jesus gets cagey—as if there were a deep pause between verses 14 and 15.

Luke suddenly creates another point for believers. If we are intentional in giving Jesus such an important role in our lives and in how we conduct our daily business, then Jesus isn’t simply offering friendly advice about greediness. Instead, Jesus lays out the terms of the Kingdom of God—as if Jesus were saying, “IF you make me Lord, judge, arbiter, etc., THEN you must be on your guard against all kinds of greed because LIFE isn’t about possessions.” This isn’t “wise advice,” but rather, “kingdom requirements” for believers and followers.

So that the point of Luke’s telling of Jesus’ parable is as Bernard Brandon Scott sees it, that the parable’s metaphor for the kingdom [of God] is not simply the [super-abundant] harvest but the good life it is intended to produce for the community. As with all God’s gifts, super-abundance is the norm. But not so that our work is done and we can be fat and happy—it’s so that the community can rejoice and celebrate.

Because what’s the point of winning a dozen Cadilacs on The Price is Right? You can’t drive them all at once, and you’d have to pay all those taxes on the ones you weren’t using! Some prize, eh?!

--+ Friends, God sent his son, the Christ, to demonstrate for us the Kingdom Life. So that we can trust God’s provision and celebrate new life—NOT so we can enjoy possessions only. Thanks be to God. AMEN.

Audio Link and Sermon Manuscript for Sunday, July 25th

If you'd like to hear the recording of my sermon from Sunday, July 25th, 2010, click on this file and download: 

http://www.box.net/shared/xe3e6et9ps


The manuscript follows below: 


The Seventeenth Sunday of Ordinary Time; July 25, 2010
Park Avenue Presbyterian Church; Des Moines, Iowa
Texts: Hosea 1: 2-10
Psalm 85
Colossians 2: 6-15 (16-19)
Luke 11: 1-13 *

“Participation by Prayer”

--} Honestly, there are a lot of questions to be asked about today’s gospel lesson.

• Why does Jesus teach a prayer that’s different from the one we say in worship?
• Why do Presbyterians “pray it” differently than the Methodists, or the Episcopalians?
• How come Luke’s version and Matthew’s version of the Lord’s Prayer are different?
• Is Jesus teaching us “how” to pray, or “what” to pray?
• Why do we pray a prayer like this one every Sunday—so often, that it’s wrote and “boring” and we might not even know what it “means” anymore?

And honestly, there are a host of other questions we could ask, too. Like:

• What do the words of this prayer really MEAN?
• What are we “really praying for” when we say these words?
• Is there a particular theology being espoused, or doctrine, or dogma, that we should be careful of or concerned about?
• Christians have been praying this prayer for almost 2,000 years—shouldn’t we try something different for a change?

But honestly, I really don’t want to have to deal with any of those questions this morning. Instead, I’d like to tell you about how I’ve come to know the Lord’s Prayer in my own experience, and then see if the gospel story doesn’t shed some additional light on how Jesus invites us to be in relationship with one another and with God.



It was some years ago now; I was a young pastor serving a small congregation in the middle of Nebraska. We had a young family who had moved to town with two daughters—a nearly 2 year old, and a nearly 4 year old. Since the congregation was exclusively older, we didn’t have any children’s programming at all. But with some encouragement, we got the family to come to worship and bring the girls and things were quite happy. The congregation now had “entertainment” because they could watch the two girls during worship. They knew just how to make mom and dad squirm, and occasionally make one another squeal. And it was all perfectly fine—especially for the congregation, quietly “observing” during the sermon.

But all this changed one Sunday. As the pastor I’d been intentional about involving the girls in worship, inviting them to sing with us or occasionally referring to something they liked in the sermon. That congregation—like this one—also made a habit of reciting the Lord’s Prayer together every Sunday. And on this particular Sunday, I was paying careful attention to the 4 year old as the congregation began reciting the prayer. And it was one of those flash-bulb kind of moments. The 4 year old was about to punch the 2 year old; one of those moments when you thought you could imagine the future that hadn’t just happened yet. And at just the moment the congregation began “Our father, who art in heaven…” the 4 year old’s face changed. I could almost see the flash of “recognition” as the words stumbled past her ears and registered in her brain. Miraculously, she pulled back from her sister and her head swiveled around as she tried to comprehend what was happening. It was as if her brain was screaming out to her that the congregation was praying that prayer her mother had been trying for several weeks to teach her at bedtime. And because she was sitting in the front-row, I—the preacher—was the only one who got to see the gaped mouth of utter astonishment—as she discovered for the first time that somebody else knew that prayer, too.

In all my years in the church, this is one of the most precious of moments that I’ve been privileged to witness. But with it, was the following Sunday. Everyone was back in church, except the 4 year old brought her rapt attention. She didn’t bother with her younger sister. She sat, carefully listening, through the prayers, the hymns, the scripture reading, and even the sermon. It was as if she knew, at any moment, the whole congregation was going to do something. And sure enough, when it came time for the Lord’s Prayer, her suspicions confirmed, she was ready. And as we prayed on that next Sunday, she added her voice—her most grown up, adult, I’m going to participate too, voice—to the rest of ours and prayed so that everyone could hear her. And there wasn’t a dry eye in the house after that. There in those moments a mere 4 year old had learned what my preaching and worship professor had promised us in seminary, the kids will “get it too.” And she did.



Now I tell you that story because I want us to see and to know that it’s NOT because of the particular doctrine or dogma of the prayer that’s particularly important. I don’t know exactly what Jesus had in mind when he encouraged his disciples to pray “this way,” but I do know that in the tradition of Christian believers the Lord’s Prayer has taken a monumental place in our Spiritual formation and participation in the life of Jesus Christ. It could be about the words themselves. Yes, it probably is at least partly about the very words. But for nearly two-thousand years, for whatever reasons, Christians have recited the prayer. And it’s likely how we first learn to participate in believing.

You see, in the earliest church, the Christian community was small. A handful of families in any one place, really. There weren’t large gatherings like we know them. There weren’t church buildings. There wasn’t any kind of church infrastructure. No pastors, no elders, no bishops. The Apostles might have gathered in Jerusalem, but they were a far cry from the day-to-day experience of Christians. It wasn’t like today, when we expect to be asked questions like, “where are you going when you die?” or “was Jesus born by way of a virgin-birth?” or “is Jesus the only way to salvation.” In the earliest experiences of faith, people didn’t know “what” they believed or even “what” the church believed. Believers were marked by the prayers they prayed and the ways they acted toward others in the world.

“Christians” as we’ve become known as, were formed around the community that shared the words of the Lord’s Prayer and enacted the teachings of Jesus.

And so when Luke relates this story to first-century believers, there’s immediately the encouragement to begin praying these words. In fact, the earliest believers presume this prayer is a prescribed prayer. They write it into their worship practices and daily rituals—and they hand it down, generation by generation. Now that’s persistent prayer! And that’s generally the part that you and I affirm and participate in ourselves—every Sunday in worship, perhaps every day in our daily spiritual lives—if nothing else, we always have THIS PRAYER to sustain us. And as we join in the now-familiar and well-worn words, as they tumble out of our mouths across our lips perhaps even unknowingly, we join our voices with the myriad of thousands across the centuries who offered them in their own time of need or their own practices of reverence and hope. The fact that we know them “together” melds us as believers. “Together” it’s a common vision and witness—not just for ourselves, but for others. And we come to faith, I think, when we offer our own ascent to the words, as we join the chorus of believers in every time and place. And it’s always a feel-good kind of moment.



But honestly, I’m not sure that’s what Jesus had in mind—at all. And I say that, not because I doubt these were Jesus’ words, but I think somewhere along the way we took them a bit overboard. Don’t get me wrong, I like that we have the Lord’s Prayer. I like the grounded-ness that we feel in it, the unity and togetherness that comes from our common voicing of it. But those well-worn familiar words may have just been an example; where the true and heart-felt desire of Jesus was to teach us that “praying” is essential to accomplishing what God asks us to do. Not so much “how” we pray or even “what” we pray, but that we pray.

While there’s a lot that could be said about the “what” that we pray, I believe the prayer becomes instructive for us, not so much because of “what” Jesus has followers pray but because the Church chose to take up praying together. It’s a teachable moment both for us and the world. For us—more than the words that stumble out of our mouths, flowing off our tongues without our minds giving them a second thought or understanding the gravity of what they ask—the prayer does what otherwise seems impossible. It calls us to participation together.

For the earliest believers, that followers prayed together was exactly the point. More than doctrine or theology or specific petitions, Jesus marks us with a prayer—the repetition of which has been preserved and practiced for hundreds of centuries. And it marks us, not by what it means or how seriously we offer the words; but that we declare it. That we add our voices to the thousands and myriads. It’s how our lives are changed. It’s how we are reformed and conformed to Christ’s image. It’s literal, it’s spiritual, it’s hopeful. Not because we say magic words, but because we join the throng of faithful who know it and pray it, together.

Should we try something different for a change? I don’t think so. And neither did the 4 year old.


--+ Friends, God sent his son, the Christ, to show us how to pray and the power of prayer and the promise of persistence heard and responded to. So let us add our voices to those of the faithful of every time and place—that we too, might give witness not just to “what” we believe, but “who” we believe in. AMEN.