Living in the Spirit with Joy

1 Peter 1:3-9
June 11, 2023

Rev. William Carter  

Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! By his great mercy he has given us a new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, and into an inheritance that is imperishable, undefiled, and unfading, kept in heaven for you, who are being protected by the power of God through faith for a salvation ready to be revealed in the last time.

 

In this you rejoice, even if now for a little while you have had to suffer various trials, so that the genuineness of your faith—being more precious than gold that, though perishable, is tested by fire—may be found to result in praise and glory and honor when Jesus Christ is revealed. Although you have not seen him, you love him; and even though you do not see him now, you believe in him and rejoice with an indescribable and glorious joy, for you are receiving the outcome of your faith, the salvation of your souls.

 

Picture this: a preacher in a black robe stands behind the communion table. It’s the first Sunday of the month. The Lord’s Supper has been prepared. The trays of bread and cups are on the table. The mood in the sanctuary is sober. Everybody is silent. With a deep, resonant voice, the preacher intones the words, “This is the joyful feast of the people of God.”

 

And I ask, “Does anybody respond by saying, ‘Whoopee!”

 

This is caricature of the communion services in the church of my childhood. They were deadly serious. The congregation did not handle the moment with frivolity and glee. There was no dancing in the aisle, no clapping along with the organ music – not ever, and certainly not then. Nobody talked but the preacher. Nobody dared to smile. This was communion. And the preacher called it “the joyful feast.” Joyful? Really?

 

Over the past few decades, we’ve recovered a broader sense of the Lord’s Supper. The sacrament was never intended as a funeral meal. There was a Last Supper, when the sacrament was inaugurated, and the Host for the meal was crucified. Yet he is alive again, raised from the dead. That warrants a few smiles. We can lighten up on the gloom and doom and a dress code suitable for undertakers. Christ is risen! He can lead us in a memory of his sacrificial death – and he does this as one thoroughly alive. It’s the paradox of the Christian faith: we remember the saving death of our Risen Lord.

 

And yet, joyful feast? I just completed some worship planning for the next year. April 7, 2024 is a communion Sunday. It’s also Holy Humor Sunday. Will the broken bread be served on unicycles? Will the cup be poured out by Holy Fool with a yellow polka dot bowtie? Ahh, the anticipation is already building.

 

Joy, joy, joy. It’s the fruit of the Holy Spirit. Sometimes muted, sometimes rejected, and waiting to be understood.

 

First thing to note is that it’s not the same as happiness. If you’re happy and you know it, it is a mood. Something happened to prompt the happiness. A high school senior crosses the stage to receive a diploma. That makes you happy; you never thought she’d finish up. All the seniors are happy too. School’s out for summer.

 

In the bottom of the ninth inning, two runs down, a shortstop hits a three-run homer to win the game. Everybody cheers! There are fireworks in center field.

 

He gets down on one knee, pulls out a ring, pops the question. She breaks into tears, not because she’s sad. She’s happy. Happiness is situational. It’s sparked when something happens.

 

Grandma admires the latest progeny, declaring, “She’s such a happy baby.” Surrounded by love, safe and comforted, receiving a lot of attention, getting plenty of sleep. Those are optimum conditions for a happy baby.  

 

Contrast this with today’s text from an early baptism sermon, titled the first letter of Peter. The preacher says, “Rejoice when you suffer through various trials.” Wow! Last we checked, “suffering through various trials” is not the sort of thing that sparks a lot of rejoicing. And not merely “rejoicing” but “jumping for joy.” That’s the verb that Peter is using. “Rejoice” – “Jump for joy”! What a curious gift from God.

 

Christian people often do come across a little strange; some of you are particularly unusual. I think of the apostle Paul. He wrote the other text that we heard today. It’s that famous line, “Rejoice in the Lord always! Again I say rejoice!” Did you know that he wrote those words when he was in prison? Some would say he was another strange bird. Perhaps, but I think the clue to real joy is in the phrase he uses.

 

“Rejoice in the Lord.” It’s different from rejoicing in yourself. It’s not drawing on a deep reservoir from our own capacity. Rather joy comes from a deeper assurance – that God rules the world, that Christ has somehow overcome the world, that the Holy Spirit is testifying among us that there’s no reason to fear, not ultimately. God is ruling, God is working, God is rescuing. If you have assurance, if you really know it, joy happens.

 

For Peter and for Paul (don’t know about Mary, but Peter and Paul), joy is the voice of protest – a loving protest, a holy protest, a truthful protest that God is alive, Christ is risen, and the Spirit governs the ultimate future. Is there suffering? Peter says, “Suffering doesn’t have the last word on us. God does.” Are you in prison again, Paul? “Sure,” he replies, “but I’m not worried. Christ has set me free.” They are pointing to something the world can’t yet see.

 

Years ago, my friend Tom traveled to South Africa for research. It was just before the 1994 elections, when that complicated nation was turning toward a multiracial democracy. One evening, he drove the freeway into Pretoria, the administrative capital of the country. He described it like a forest of steel and glass, large imposing buildings. As he took a circular exit ramp, he was surprised to see a small gathering of black Christians worshiping in the little green circle inside the highway exit.

 

He writes,

 

The contrast could not have been more stark. Here against the skyline of the great governmental city of Pretoria, strong symbol for many of the butter years of apartheid was a tiny group of those who had been denied standing in the society. Here, in the shadow of the capital of a nation built on gold and diamonds and ivory, was a poor band of Christians with no building, no pews, no paid clergy, no musical instruments save tambourines … Pretoria stood majestically, the embodiment of the present power. The little flock danced and sang and praised the God of Jesus Christ in the power of the Holy Spirit.[1]

 

How could they do that? Because they knew that God’s future belonged to them. That hope was sealed in their hearts, and it gave them joy.

 

I think of remarkable people I have known, some of them pastors. Like Sarah, who serves in a small town near the center of this state. She’s naturally pleasant, but there’s something else than mood or optimism that keeps her going. The steel mill in her town has been gone for years. Some of the plaster has dropped off the sanctuary ceiling. She said, “I tell them when we pray, it’s OK to keep your eyes open. Never know when a gift might literally fall from heaven.” She put her head back and laughed.

 

Somebody asked why she doesn’t move to a bigger town, a better church. She says, “God wants me here.” But why are you here? How do you keep going? “I’m here because I believe the Gospel is true. God loves every person. God loves every community. God is giving us work to do.” When she said it, her eyes were radiant, burning from within. That’s joy. It is fruit from the Holy Spirit.

 

So how do we cultivate it? Is it a matter of handing out tambourines or telling jokes? Well, that might help. But something deeper is required. We keep telling the story of what God is doing in the world. We keep singing the songs that point to the truth. To cultivate the joy of the Spirit, we put ourselves in those events and places that teach us what kind of God we have – and what God cares about.

 

Of all people, I learned this from a Jewish rabbi. He presided at a Passover meal, a seder. (Have you been to one of those? We may be due to have one next spring.) The Passover seders that I’ve attended are formal affairs. Everybody dresses up. The tables are elegant, with crystal goblets and fine china. There isn’t a lot of laughter. Rather it’s a long recital of the story of Israel. “We were slaves in Egypt, oppressed so hard we could not stand. God heard our cry and called Moses to tell Pharoah to release us.”

 

We sing, we recite the psalms, we pray. Our plates are loaded with symbols of oppression and freedom. It is a stern and sober affair – and the rabbi says, “This is the most joyful night of the year, for we remember that God is a God of freedom and liberation, a God who grants dignity to every single soul. God refuses for us or anybody else to be put down or cast out.” That’s the kind of God who is celebrated – it is the basis of our joy.

 

Gives us a little perspective on our monthly celebration of the “joyful feast of the people of God,” doesn’t it!

 

We’re talking about joy. Joy is the response of God working in us. Joy is the engine that drives our spiritual car. And sometimes, if we see God clearly enough, joy can give us purpose.

 

One of our longtime church members isn’t here this morning. A lot of them aren’t here. I don’t know where they are, but I know where she is. She is preparing and serving a meal at the St. Francis soup kitchen in the city. She went to help, discovered they needed more helpers. She felt a tug on her heart, so she came and confessed it to me, saying, “I think I need to be there. I’m in a position to help.” Most Sundays, that’s where she is, and that’s OK with me. Sometimes she sneaks in and sits on the back row with some of our comedians, but she doesn’t stay long. Off she goes.

 

Here's what I need to tell you: she started volunteering because there was a need. But her motivation has changed. To quote her directly, “Providing those meals and spending time with those folks gives me joy.” That’s the word she uses. She believes in a God that creates every person. They may be hungry, but they have dignity. And she knows the Great Day is coming when all of God’s children will dine at the wedding feast in the kingdom of God.

 

Joy, joy, joy – the kind of joy that carries us through all suffering and points us toward God’s great and glorious day. How is this joy cultivated? I’ll say it again: keep telling God’s story, keep singing God’s praises, keep putting yourself in the lives of people and places that God cares about.

 

For the day is coming, says the preacher Peter, “when Jesus Christ is revealed. Although you have not seen him, you love him; and even though you do not see him now, you believe in him and rejoice with an indescribable and glorious joy, for you are receiving the outcome of your faith.” It’s called salvation.

(c) William G. Carter. All rights reserved.

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[1] Tom Long, in Sharing Heaven’s Music: The Heart of Christian Preaching, ed. Barry Callen (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1995) 202.

Living in the Spirit with Love

Galatians 5:16-26
June 4, 2023
Rev. Bill Carter

Live by the Spirit, I say, and do not gratify the desires of the flesh. For what the flesh desires is opposed to the Spirit, and what the Spirit desires is opposed to the flesh; for these are opposed to each other, to prevent you from doing what you want. But if you are led by the Spirit, you are not subject to the law. Now the works of the flesh are obvious: fornication, impurity, licentiousness, idolatry, sorcery, enmities, strife, jealousy, anger, quarrels, dissensions, factions, envy, drunkenness, carousing, and things like these. I am warning you, as I warned you before: those who do such things will not inherit the kingdom of God. By contrast, the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. There is no law against such things. And those who belong to Christ Jesus have crucified the flesh with its passions and desires. If we live by the Spirit, let us also be guided by the Spirit. Let us not become conceited, competing against one another, envying one another.

According to Rodgers and Hammerstein, “June is busting out all over.” Some of you may remember that old song from the Broadway musical, “Carousel.” A small fishing village on the cost of Maine prepares for the first clambake of the season. Winter’s over, spring is done, summer is at hand. The ladies in town break into song, “You can see it in the trees, you can smell it in the breeze.” Nettie Fowler continues, “Buds are bustin’ out a-bushes, and the romping river pushes…”   

It's that time of year. We can start sleeping with the windows open. The farmers’ markets will open soon. And we are not surprised to hear the apostle Paul raise the issue, “What’s blossoming in your life?” It’s a good question.

Last week was Pentecost. We remember the coming of the Holy Spirit. The Gospel of John told us that before Jesus returned to the Father, he breathed on us and said, “Receive this Holy Breath of God.” It has been his continuing presence, igniting faith and guiding life.”

The Gospel of Luke said the faithful gathered for a festival in Jerusalem. Suddenly a Wind from heaven blasted through the windows and the church had something to say. Not only did they encounter his presence, but that Spirit pushed the church beyond its measured and cautious boundaries. God empowered the church to speak to all nations.

And today, we hear from Paul. He’s writing to a troubled church in the land we now call Turkey. They are fighting among themselves. Their unity has been ripped apart. Paul says, “Knock it off!” Then he reminds them that they, too, received the Holy Spirit. It came through the preaching (3:3). It took root in their believing (3:5). The Spirit confirmed they were included as adopted children of God (4:6). The Spirit filled them with hope (5:5). Not only that, the Spirit cut them loose from the ways they used to live (5:16).

But what seems to be busting out all over are a lot of old habits. They are fueled by good old-fashioned selfishness. They are expressed in behavior both abusive and self-destructive. He gives a list of fifteen vices (impurity, idolatry, bickering, fighting, partying), capping it off with the words, “and things like these.” Apparently, the church folks of ancient Turkey were as nasty to one another as anything we see today.

Does anybody doubt there’s a whole lot of bad behavior out there? I think we’ve seen it – and keep seeing it.

How many times after supper do we click on the remote and some fierce voice appears on the evening news? I remember seeing one man, an attorney, self-described as a political operative. The lady with the microphone asked a question, he started shouting at her. She tried gently to ask the question again, he cut her off and began to attack her. (Have you seen this sort of thing?)

Whatever she tried to say, he talked over her. Domineering, contentious, with anger in his cold, dark eyes – and it was her show, and he was the guest. I watched the scene, and wondered, “What’s this about?” He wasn’t merely having a bad day. His demeanor was monstrous. So I hit the remote and switched over to a rerun of “The Big Bang Theory.”

But you know how it is. When peace and calm is fractured by a lot of shouting, it’s hard to settle down. I couldn’t get the scene out of my soul. What has happened to one of God’s children that they seek to destroy a host who invited them to ask some serious questions? What’s pulling their strings? What’s eating at their soul? It was so sad. Pitiful, in a way.

And I remember the concern of the apostle Paul: “What’s blossoming in your life? Hatred or love? Impurity or peace? Quarreling or kindness? Drunkenness or self-control?” In a church in first century Galatia, just like the all-too-common mood in our own land, there is a continuing battle. Paul calls it the battle between “flesh” and “spirit.” And it’s a battle that’s frequently misunderstood.

In a Bible study, someone once asked, “Is that the battle between body and soul?” Fair question, you know: they thought that sounded like flesh and spirit. But the answer is no. Paul’s not sinking into some old Greek dualism, as if to say, the body is ugly, the soul is good. No, there are a lot of beautiful bodies and some really ugly souls.

When Paul says the word “flesh,” he’s not referring to skin and bones. It’s more like he’s talking about all our animal instincts. You and I are animals, after all. We are part of the animal kingdom. There are some things we do out of our natural inclination.

Like the two dogs who live in my house. If we leave donuts on the countertop and go to the store, Pippa will say to Oakley, “Did you see the donuts that they left on the countertop?” When we return and the empty package is on the floor, I start to yell – and my kind-hearted wife says, “Honey, stop. They can’t help it.” Yes, they could – “No, they couldn’t.” What she’s talking about is the natural inclination, what Paul calls “the desire of the flesh.”

It’s that natural appetite. It’s why I, for one, can’t keep Utz barbecue potato chips in my cupboard – because if I start, I can’t stop. Ah yes, the appetites of the flesh. Paul says we are a bundle of these natural inclinations. In some Bible translation, they are even described as “lusts.” Imagine that: a lust for jealousy. A hunger for carousing. An appetite for anger…and all the rest.

Without the intervention of the Gospel, without the interruption of the Holy Spirit, all of us are prone to those fifteen-plus vices. I don’t care how nice you dress up on Sunday – all of us. It is our natural barbarian inclination.

What God has done in Jesus is to show us the alternative. There is another way to live. You heard the list: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. Nine nouns, none of them a surprise to us. The surprise is how Paul describes them. They constitute the “fruit” of the Holy Spirit. Not the “fruits,” plural – but the singular “fruit.” God wants to work in our lives – and the evidence will come in these nine nouns – love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.

I’m preaching nine sermons this summer. Guess what the topics will be! That’s right – love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. Which is to say, the word for today is love.

Paul puts that first, to accent its importance. A case can be made for the other eight nouns living under the umbrella of love. I find that to be a bit of a stretch. But we can quickly understand how the fifteen-plus vices of the flesh are the opposite of love. Sleeping with somebody to whom you do not belong (fornication) is about “me,” not “us.” Worshiping something not worthy of ultimate devotion is self-determined idolatry. Stirring up fights (described in five near-synonyms on Paul’s list) is about personal victory and demolishing others. Envy is the rat poison we sip while we wait for others to die. What a terrible way to live!

Love is the alternative. In particular, the self-giving, other-directed benefits that express our love. Love declares a basic truth both human and holy – that life is about other people. It’s not about us. It’s about others. That’s love. True love pushes us out of the isolation of a self-centered life, prompting us to ask, “What can I do for you? And for the world?”

If you know physics, you know the difference between centripetal force and centrifugal force. Centripetal wants to pull in, like gravity. To experience centrifugal force, put a ball on a string, swing it around your head, and let it go – it flies out.  That’s the difference between “flesh,” which is about me, and “Spirit,” which is about what God is releasing in me. Paul says, “Live in the Spirit.” Live according to what God wants to blossom through you.

The fruit of the week is love. It’s the first marker of life brought alive by God working in us. Is there any love around here? That’s the first question of a community of Christians. And my first response is to step back and say, “Did you see what happened here yesterday?” Over two hundred souls stuffed this room to thank God for a saint named Shirley. She created smiles and liberated our laughter. She loved us – and we loved her.

It’s the same reciprocal love that Jesus commands. It’s the same love that the Gospel proclaims. It’s the first blossom of God in our communal soul.

And it occurs to me that if God’s Spirit is going to create love within us and among us, this love is going to come in two ways. First, we learn to love by receiving love: somebody out there (God, Jesus, Spirit, or another) has determined we are lovable. So we learn love by letting them love us. The second way: we learn to love by loving. It’s another case where practice will someday make perfect. Love will be perfected by more loving.

Listen, says the apostle Paul, and I will sum up the entire ethical teaching of God in a single commandment. Then he stood on one foot to say, “You shall love your neighbor as yourself (Galatians 5:14).” Any questions?

Next week, the fruit of the week is “joy.” See you then.

(c) William G. Carter. All rights reserved.