Living in the Spirit with Faithfulness

Galatians 2:15-21
Hebrews 11:1-16
July 30, 2023
William G. Carter

We ourselves are Jews by birth and not Gentile sinners; yet we know that a person is justified not by the works of the law but through faith in Jesus Christ. And we have come to believe in Christ Jesus, so that we might be justified by faith in Christ, and not by doing the works of the law, because no one will be justified by the works of the law. But if, in our effort to be justified in Christ, we ourselves have been found to be sinners, is Christ then a servant of sin? Certainly not! But if I build up again the very things that I once tore down, then I demonstrate that I am a transgressor. For through the law I died to the law, so that I might live to God. I have been crucified with Christ; and it is no longer I who live, but it is Christ who lives in me. And the life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me. I do not nullify the grace of God; for if justification comes through the law, then Christ died for nothing.

My faith was formed in a Presbyterian congregation. If you had not read the sign on the street corner, you could probably discern it’s a Presbyterian building. There’s a pulpit right in the middle, signifying the centrality of scripture and the preaching of the Word. There’s no communion railing, inviting all to have direct access to the Lord’s Table. High above the organ pipes, there’s an inscription from the 100^th Psalm: “Enter His Gates With Thanksgiving” – a most Presbyterian sentiment; John Calvin used to say gratitude is the highest Christian virtue, even higher than love. If ever there was a Presbyterian building, it’s that building.

But here is the most curious aspect to that sanctuary. On the walls around the room, there are several plaques. It’s been a while since I’ve been back, so I’m not sure how many. There must be eight or ten large plaques. As I recall, some are bronze and a few in marble.

Each plaque has a name or two. I don’t know most of the names. To the best of my memory, there was one man’s name, with the notice that he been a church leader, and then two dates separated by a dash.

Other churches memorialize the church members who gave their lives in the service of the country. It notes the war, the name, possibly the year they were lost. Yet the plaques in my home church are markers of longevity. A long-time Sunday School teacher is remembered. Over here, two elders. I guess if you survive four hundred Session meetings, somebody puts your name on the wall.

In the back corner, a marble plaque marks the two people that I remember. The Rev. Edgar Frank and his wife Helena served the church when I was a child. I remember his quiet voice, speaking complete and grammatically correct sentences. Some say he phoned all the church members for their birthdays; don’t know what else he had time to do. What’s stunning to me now is the span of his service: thirty-seven years. What pastor in his or her right mind serves the same church for thirty-seven years? 

Yet one thing I know. When I grew up sitting in our family pew, I had a sense that I was surrounded by people who had been faithful to God for a very long time.

As we move this summer through the apostle Paul’s listing of the nine qualities of the Spirit-filled life, it’s inevitable to spend some time reflecting on faithfulness. Love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, and generosity are exemplary character traits. The trick is to keep them going, to live a faithful life over a long stretch of time. That’s the characteristic that gets your name upon the wall.

We don’t know the name of the preacher who gives us the Letter to the Hebrews. She didn’t sign the letter. But we know something of what she was dealing with. Her church was tired. They were worn out. They had put in their time, in fruitful and unfruitful seasons, and they were ready to give up.

The preacher says, “You can’t give up. It’s too early for that. Faithfulness sees the far-off horizon what we can’t yet see. We aren’t making this up but viewing what we know about God’s future.”

Then the preacher turns to point to the plaques upon the wall. “Look at Abel, who made the acceptable sacrifice, and Enoch; all we know about him is that he pleased God. Then there’s Noah, who hadn’t yet seen a rain cloud before he trusted God to start building a big boat. And Abraham, who had no idea where he was going, but God said, ‘Trust me and I will lead the way.’”

The list goes on: Isaac, Jacob, Joseph, Moses, and bless her warm and generous heart, Rahab. Each one of them trusted the God we cannot see. They endured for the sake of promises that remained just out of sight. They didn’t stop. They kept going.

“And with people like these, who are now cheering us on in our journey, we can’t stop. We must keep going. This is a long-distance marathon, not a 440 sprint. God is the One who initiated the race. God is the One who called us to start running. And God is the One who sent Jesus to run the race before us. Thanks to Jesus, because of Jesus, we keep running.”

Leave it to the preacher to speak of Jesus. That’s what preachers do. And if we’re going to talk about faithfulness, about God-inspired faithfulness, we must speak of Jesus. For the preacher of the letter of Hebrews, as for the apostle Paul who writes to the Galatians, it’s all about the faithfulness of Jesus. Jesus is full of faith.

Now, maybe you’re saying, “Wait a minute.” What do you mean Jesus is full of faith? Aren’t we supposed to be the ones who have faith in Jesus? Aren’t we called to trust him no matter what? Well, sure. Of course.

Today we heard that second scripture text from the Galatian letter. It is a tightly compressed paragraph. It is a theological jewel, a sparkling and dense diamond worth the riches of the Gospel. Paul says some revolutionary truth: if we want to be right with God, if we want to be justified, it’s not going to come through anything that we do or say.

There are the Ten Commandments. The commandments are good. They teach us how to live. However, nobody can keep the Ten Commandments. It doesn’t matter how perfect you think you are; you’re not perfect.

There are the teachings of scripture, the moral instructions in how to treat one another kindly, how to live graciously, how to give generously, how to lift one another up. Yet when you pull out of the parking lot this morning, somebody may cut you off (accidentally or purposefully), and all your Good Christian Emotions are going to fly out the window.

We can’t make it by ourselves. That is the blessing of being poor in spirit. We don’t have the ability to achieve our way into the good graces of God. We can be honest about that – because there’s a way forward, and it’s quite literally the good graces of God. God says, “You are forgiven. Nothing you can do to earn that. It’s a gift.”

But God, isn’t there something we should do? God says, “Sure, but that comes later. What comes first is forgiveness, mercy, grace.” But God… And God says, “Listen, I sent my Son to your planet and people like you killed him. So in response, I forgive you. My kind of righteousness is to raise him from the dead, so he can keep teaching you, and nudging you, and releasing you from the slavery of your own incompetence.”

Whew! This is Galatians. It’s a big book. Heavy book. So heavy that it set old Martin Luther back on his heels. Luther went to the monastery to make himself acceptable to God. It didn’t work. The deeper he plunged into the depths of his soul, the more anguished he became – until he started reading the Bible. Especially the letter to the Galatians. Commenting on today’s text, he wrote,

If I could perform any work acceptable to God and deserving of grace …, why should I stand in need of the grace of God and the suffering and death of Christ? Christ would be of no benefit to me. Christ’s mercy would be of no use to me. … With Paul we absolutely deny the possibility of self-merit.[1]

Or to put as simply as possible, we can’t win over God when God is already on our side. Trusting this essential truth is the definition of faith. Grace is invisible; can’t see it, can’t taste it, most of us can’t entirely hear it. Yet we can trust what we cannot see. We can step forward into the promises that are still ahead of us. This is the essence of faith. It is the faith that saves our souls, the faith that reconciles our brokenness, the faith that invites the cleaning, liberating presence of Jesus Christ into our lives. His Spirit in our flesh.

This is a lot to take in. Of course it is. It is as close to the center of the Gospel as we get. Paul shouts it out: “We know we are not justified by the works of the law, but by faith in Jesus Christ.” Galatians, chapter 2. Those are the very words that ignited the Protestant Reformation. It is the Word from God that keeps the fires burning.

And to push it one step deeper, there is ever more Good News. The text has a built-in ambiguity to it. Maybe you saw the two Bible footnotes when I read the text. “We are justified by faith in Jesus Christ.” The text reads that way. It also can be translated, “We are justified by the faith of Jesus Christ.” It is Christ’s faithfulness that saves, and we trust that. He died for us. He was raised for us. He rules over us. He dwells within us, for Jesus is faithful. He’s a whole lot more faithful than we are. This is the blessed Good News.  

There’s a lot here, and there should be. This is what the Sabbath is for, to ponder the Mystery of God at work in our lives. We hear God’s announcement that we are acceptable even in our unacceptability. And it’s just enough Light to keep moving. Just enough mercy to step into another week. That’s what faith is all about. And we keep on, one week after another, and one day, perhaps to our surprise, God inscribes our name on the wall,

One of the treasures on my bookshelf is a book of verse from my beloved professor Dick Armstrong. With deep insight and pastoral good sense, one of his poems is titled “Roller Coaster Ride.” Give it a listen: 

Faith is a roller coaster ride for clergy, clerks, or clowns.

The best disciples, old and new, have had their ups and downs.

The psalmist and the prophets had their moments of despair,

And even Jesus, on the cross, had doubts that God was there.

 

When faith is riding on the ridge, it shows in word and deed,

For mountains move if faith is but a grain or mustard seed.

It’s not that we make miracles by willing to believe.

Faith’s not a work but God’s free gift that we by grace receive.

 

That thought should keep us humble when we’re feeling strong and tall.

The higher up the heights we climb, the father we can fall!

As autumn leads to winter’s snows, and nighttime follows day,

Faith does not always sail the crest nor on the summit stay,

But sometimes plummets down the steeps with such breathtaking speed,

That roller coaster riders should this warning bear and heed.

 

Yet when the coaster car is at the bottom of the slope,

The peaks of faith loom large and give new impetus to hope.

Then we recall those moments when our faith in God was sure,

Confirmed by truth, sustained by love, we find we can endure

The ups and downs of faith. Indeed, we now can even say

Without the lows there’d be no highs, without the night no day.

 

The ride is always risky, even scary, we’ll agree,

But if we stay inside the car of faith, we’re safe. You see,

The roller coaster Maker is the one who takes the toll.

The car won’t ever leave the tracks if God is in control.

 

So re the roller coaster ride I’ll take my own advice

And hand on tight until the end, no matter what the price.

For when the ride is over and the ups and downs are through,

I hope to be with God – and all the other riders, too!

 

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

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[1] Martin Luther, Commentary on Galatians 2:16, available online at https://ccel.org/ccel/luther/galatians/galatians.v.html

 

Living in the Spirit with Generosity

2 Corinthians 9:6-15
July 23, 2023
William G. Carter

The point is this: the one who sows sparingly will also reap sparingly, and the one who sows bountifully will also reap bountifully. Each of you must give as you have made up your mind, not reluctantly or under compulsion, for God loves a cheerful giver. And God is able to provide you with every blessing in abundance, so that by always having enough of everything, you may share abundantly in every good work. As it is written, “He scatters abroad, he gives to the poor; his righteousness endures forever.” He who supplies seed to the sower and bread for food will supply and multiply your seed for sowing and increase the harvest of your righteousness. You will be enriched in every way for your great generosity, which will produce thanksgiving to God through us; for the rendering of this ministry not only supplies the needs of the saints but also overflows with many thanksgivings to God. Through the testing of this ministry you glorify God by your obedience to the confession of the gospel of Christ and by the generosity of your sharing with them and with all others, while they long for you and pray for you because of the surpassing grace of God that he has given you. Thanks be to God for his indescribable gift!

Let’s see if you can remember the theme verse from the fifth chapter of the letter to the Galatians: “The fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity…” Oops, did you catch that? Each week, we’ve been singing “goodness” but our version of the text reads “generosity.”

“Goodness” is the way the Greek noun has been translated in many of the English Bibles. The King James says “goodness.” So does the New International Version, the New English Bible, the New King James, the New American Standard, among others. And goodness? It’s good, really good. We could use a lot more goodness.

Some will think this resonates with kindness, which was the fruit of the week for last Sunday. Kindness, goodness. Together, they remind me of Fred Rogers, the late Presbyterian minister who created the persona of Mister Rogers. It’s been fascinating that even though Fred Rogers died just over twenty years ago, he has made a comeback in recent years. He’s been the subject of two major documentaries, a full-length feature film, and several books. Maybe after the last half-dozen years of our national life, we want a hero who is not only kind but good.

And so, we remember. We remember the show when he had his feet in a wading pool and Officer Clemmons, the Black police officer, came by. Fred invited him to take off his shoes and stick his hot feet in the pool, which he did. He did that when some municipalities were refusing African Americans to step into public swimming pools. Goodness. Moral goodness.

Or his tender care to those with disabilities and differences, especially children. Maybe you saw the clip where he pulled up a chair along a young boy in a wheelchair. He spoke tenderly, asked him about the disability, and applauded what little Jeff was able to do. If you haven’t seen it, stop by and visit me. I’ll show you the video, and I will have tissues for both of us to wipe our eyes.[1] Goodness.

On the night when Fred Rogers was inducted into the Television Academy Hall of Fame, they asked him to make a speech. He brought tears to everybody’s eyes as he asked those present to remember the mentors who had shaped their lives and careers. Then he challenged the media business with these words:

“Life isn’t cheap. It’s the greatest mystery of any millennium. And television needs to do all it can to broadcast that, to show and tell what the good in life is all about. But how do we make goodness attractive? By doing whatever we can to bring courage to those whose lives move near our own. By treating our neighbor at least as well as we treat ourselves. And allowing that to inform everything that we produce.”[2]

Goodness. Aren’t we in favor of goodness? Don’t we hope and pray and work for more goodness? Of course we do. It would be enough to stop there. We could pray, “God give us goodness.”

Yet the Bible says, “generosity.” At least, the version in our pews. That’s the New Revised Standard Version, which continues to be revised. One of my friends has been on the translation committee. Now retired from the faculty of Gettysburg College, Dr. Buz Myers is a New Testament scholar. So I sent him a note to say, “Buz, is the word goodness or generosity? Why did the committee translate the word as generosity?”

And he wrote back and said, “I don’t know. I wasn’t in the room when they discussed Galatians 5:22. I was on the Old Testament subcommittee that day.”

But we discussed it back and forth. Paul uses an unusual Greek word: “agathosyne.” “Agatho” is the general word for good or goodness. The suffix “syne” suggests something held in common. So the word for Paul is a slightly untranslatable word that means “mutual goodness.” Or goodness that we share in common. Which is probably why “generosity” is the word that they chose.

We are talking about goodness directed toward others. It is a commitment to the common good, not merely the individual good. It is a giving of ourselves to improve the life of others. And so, the fruit of the Holy Spirit is that kind of generosity.

It’s the sort of thing Paul encourages in the Corinthian church, in the text that we heard this morning. There was a famine in the far-off city of Jerusalem. People were starving. So Paul passes the offering plate to help them out. None of the Corinthian Christians know those people in Jerusalem. It doesn’t matter. There is a genuine need. The apostle makes the invitation to join in the “gracious work” of sharing what they have with others.

This is a favorite section of Paul’s correspondence for me. Always gives me a chuckle! He is shaking their tree pretty hard in the hope that some apples will fall. Green apples if you will. Bright green apples. Expensive green apples. He plays the Corinthians off a rival church in Macedonia, saying in effect, “Those Macedonians amaze me! They have had such hardship – yet they are so generous. They were begging us to take part in this fund-raising campaign.”

“We said no, you have needs of your own. Take care of your own. But they said no, no, no, it’s a privilege to help somebody else. We have to do it. We are called to do it. And people of Corinth, their generosity has amazed us.”

 

“Now, our dear Corinthians: they have so little, yet they gave so much. And you have so much… We are sure that you want to be part of this generous undertaking.”

 

“Just remember. This is not an extortion (right, of course it isn’t). But I’ll tell you this: if you sow sparingly, you’ll reap sparingly, and if you sow bountifully, you’ll reap bountifully.”

 

And one more thing, don’t forget this: God loves a cheerful giver. That is, in Greek, a hilarious giver. A light-hearted giver. A giver with a liberal heart. God loves those kinds of givers.” (God probably loves the stingy givers, too, though, not as much. That’s not Paul speaking, that’s me. Just wanted to yank your chain.)

The greater point is that generosity is about joy. It’s the mutual goodness that creates more mutual goodness. If generosity frightens you, then don’t give – and you probably aren’t giving. But if want to create more goodness, more joy, more freedom in your soul, open your pockets to a world filled with need. That’s the sense, I think, of what Paul is trying to say.

Yesterday, after we laid one of our saints to rest, I had to leave immediately for another funeral. A graveside service for somebody I’ve never met. I was riding in the front seat of the hearse, which is always where you want to be. As we made our way through traffic on the highway, my companion told me a story just like a story that I told in my sermon last week.

He was in the drive-in lane at McDonald’s last week. If you’ve been there, you know it’s a double lane, able to take two orders simultaneously. He put in his order for a coffee and Egg McMuffin, then put the car in gear. The guy next to him placed his order, then tried to cut him off. My friend was clearly ahead in line, got flustered, then dug deep into his own soul to recover a Christian impulse. He pulls up to the window, pays for his order, then says, “Give me the bill for the guy behind me,” and pays his order too.

“You should have seen the look on his face,” he said. “It was priceless,” and then he started to laugh. Ahh yes, a cheerful giver. Chris said, “I think my payment for his breakfast totally destroyed his bad mood. Or at least confused him.” And we laughed.

Not long ago, the writer Mitch Albam spoke at an event at a college in the Midwest. The topic was generosity. He began with a confession:

I had honestly not been that charitable a person in the first part of my career, not because I was against it. I think I was just like many young people. I was very wrapped up in my own success and my own ambition. And then I got involved with an old professor of mine who was dying from Lou Gehrig's Disease named Morrie Schwartz. I visited with him every Tuesday.

Tuesdays with Morrie was Albam's most famous book. It came out in 1997. It's one of the best-selling memoirs of all time. Albam continued:

I noticed that when people would come in and visit with him, very quickly the conversation would change. They would come in trying to cheer him up because he was dying from this terminal illness. But within a couple of minutes, he would start asking them about their work, their love life, whatever, and an hour later they'd come out in tears and they'd say, “You know, I try to cheer him up, and next thing I know, I'm talking to him and he's asked me questions, and then he's really asking me questions, and I'm really there, and that's like I'm helping him, and I'm crying. I tried to cheer him up, he ended up cheering me up. He ended up comforting me. 

Mitch said, "I asked him, finally, after witnessing this so many times, I don't get it. You're the one who's dying. Why don't you just say, “Let's not talk about your problems, let's talk about my problems.” Morrie replied, “Mitch, why would I ever take from people like that? Taking makes me feel like I'm dying. Giving makes me feel like I'm living.”

Mitch says it's a profound little sentence. It also rhymes so it's easy to remember. Giving makes you feel like living. He says, “I have never forgotten that moment nor have I ever forgotten that sentiment.”[3]

Generosity is the circular movement that keeps the planet alive. Everything we have comes from God. We can receive it, but we never ultimately can cling to it. All the gifts of God come to us and then they move through us for the benefit of whoever is next in line.

This church building came as a gift from those born before us, so we touch it for a while, then pass it along to those who come next. The Gospel was spoken to us as a gift; we didn’t create it; it came as a gift. We welcome the Good News, then make sure others will hear it through us and after us. Generosity is one great big circle. It’s a circle of goodness, a circle of cheerfulness, hilarity, and joy.

And our generosity is but a reflection of the generosity of Jesus. Remember Jesus? Remember how all our character traits, all the fruit of the Holy Spirit, all of that is first modeled in Jesus. Remember that?

Paul says, “I remember that. I remember the generosity of our Lord Jesus Christ, that though he was rich, yet for our sakes he became poor, so that by his poverty, we might become rich.”[4] We live by the generosity of God, that others might live by our generosity.

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

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[1] Or you can watch it for yourself: https://youtu.be/UNUficgWE3U

[2] https://www.emmys.com/video/fred-rogers-hall-fame-induction-1999

[3] As recorded on Malcolm Gladwell’s podcast, “A Good Circle.” Available at https://youtu.be/Ca8-U9KCBns. Time: 7:36-9:17.

[4] 2 Corinthians 8:9 NRSV.

Living in the Spirit with Kindness

Matthew 9:35-38
Matthew 12:15-21
July 16, 2023

William G. Carter  

Then Jesus went about all the cities and villages, teaching in their synagogues, and proclaiming the good news of the kingdom, and curing every disease and every sickness. When he saw the crowds, he had compassion for them, because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd. Then he said to his disciples, ‘The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few; therefore ask the Lord of the harvest to send out laborers into his harvest.’

We have reached the midpoint of this summer series on the fruit of the Holy Spirit. So far, there has been love, joy, peace, and patience. Yet to come will be generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. At the center of it all is kindness. Kindness is a quality that God can work through us to achieve.

And I’ll remind myself – and you, too - why I chose these nine qualities for the sermon series. We had a guest speaker at a presbytery meeting in early May. He led us in an overview of why it’s so hard to be a church these days. There are many reasons, and we don’t need to review them now. Then he added, “If you want your church to grow, if you want your own faith to grow, if you wish to be a people of significance and positive impact, devote your energy to cultivating the fruit of the Holy Spirit: love, joy, peace, and all the rest.”

It's good advice. I believe he’s right. A church doesn’t need a bigger advertising budget. A church needs to develop people who are filled with kindness, who practice kindness, who call forth kindness from others. Imagine what a world that would be.

Some years ago, I pulled up behind a Honda at the stoplight on Grove Street. There was a bright green bumper sticker with the clear invitation: “Practice Random Acts of Kindness.” It was a pleasant thought. It had never occurred to me. Just the words vanquished the curmudgeon in my soul. Then I turned right to head down the hill.

It had been a chaotic morning and I needed a coffee. So I pulled into my favorite overpriced coffee shop, got out, ordered a large cup of steaming hot dark roast. The barista smiled, grabbed the cup, and filled it up. I pulled out my wallet, figuring a twenty-dollar bill would cover it. And she said, “There’s no charge, sir. The person ahead of you paid for your drink.”

There was nobody ahead of me. I wondered what she meant, and she said, “The last person in the store gave me a twenty-dollar bill and said, ‘Please put this toward the next person who comes into the store. If there’s anything left over, keep the tip.” My jaw dropped in gratitude. Apparently, whoever it was had seen the same bumper sticker. A random act of kindness, indeed!

So there I am, with an unnecessary twenty in my hand. I looked at it, back at her, and said, “Here, let’s keep the chain going.” Wow, did I ever feel good! As I turned and floated out the door, I pondered how long the movement would continue on. And I’ve thought many times since about the acts of kindness, both small and large.

When was the last time you bought somebody a cup of coffee? Or a meal in a restaurant? When they discovered what you were doing, how did they respond? Did they resist you by saying, “Oh no, let me pick it up”? Or did they acquiesce by saying, “Next time, let me return the favor”? Such small gestures, such revealing words!

True kindness is never a transactional deal, as in, “you did something for me, I’ll do something for you.” No, true kindness is usually one-sided. It is never intended to be repaid.

Like those two stories of Jesus that we heard from the Gospel of Matthew. Jesus goes about preaching and teaching through the towns of Galilee. He healed every disease and cured every illness. Did he do that for money? No, it was free medical care. There was no bill, no payment, no expectation or requirement. He simply healed for free, prompted by the observation that they were “sheep without a shepherd.”

Jesus was driven by compassion, what somebody once called, “the sometimes fatal capacity for feeling what it’s like to live inside somebody else’s skin.”[1] And he did not expect anything in return. His care, his healing, his stopping to deal with each new situation was a sheer act of grace. Grace was embodied in the same way as compassion - in his kindness.

In Jesus of Nazareth, God chose to live inside of our human skin. He knows eternally what it’s like to inhabit a life like ours. Rather than recoil in horror or sneer in condescension, he comes to us in kindness. He always has. He always will. That is to say, when we talk of love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, and the rest, we are not talking merely about human virtues. We are talking about the character of God.

What is God like? How do the scriptures narrate our experience of God’s personality? There are a lot of nouns, a lot of adjectives. In the Jewish texts, the word that bubbles up most often is the word “hesed,” as in the Scranton synagogue Temple Hesed. Hesed is a big word, as most Bible words are. It can spin in a number of directions. Yet the gravitational center of hesed is translated “loving kindness.” That is, kindness as an expression of love. That’s always what kindness is. Kindness is more than a noun; it’s really a verb. It’s something you do. 

And it has a transformative effect. The practice of kindness can change us. We had a dentist in the area. He could be a real character. He would dress up as Santa Claus at Christmas time and ring the Salvation Army bell. At Halloween, he would put an open coffin on his front lawn, dress like a vampire, and sit up to scare the kids who came looking for candy. Doc Bush could be a nut.

What a lot of people didn’t know, and what some people did, is that he would fly to an impoverished area of the world and devote a month to providing free dental care. He did this for nineteen years. When I knew him, he was flying to Jamaica. Wow, what a great place to go, right? Montego Bay for a month! Doc, what an easy gig, huh? And he said, “I thought going there would be a nice gesture. Fill a cavity, hit the beach. But when I got there, the need was greater than I ever imagined. All I did was pull teeth, basic triage for those who ached and had never seen a dentist.”

Then, he said, “It changed me. My altruism developed into a true concern for others. I wanted to give them back their smile.” Never charged them anything. Did it out of the kindness of his heart. The more he did for others, the more he wanted to do. As stated in his obituary thirteen years ago, “He truly believed he could help fit the world’s conflicts one tooth at a time.”[2]

Kindness is a verb, not merely a noun. I enjoy the books and podcasts of Malcolm Gladwell. He’s an insightful observer of life, a wonderful writer, and a faithful follower of Jesus. In a recent interview, here’s what he said:

My point is that being kind to strangers is a habit, it's a contagious habit, it's something you have to practice if you want it to be. And I always think that's why, for example, there's so much talk in the Bible about kindness, because you have to keep doing it if you're going to do it. You can forget how to do it. It's a muscle you've got to exercise.

 

And there's so many things which people think of as traits, and I would say, they're not traits, they're habits. So you could say, when people say that curiosity is a trait, what they mean is, that kid was born curious. Well, actually, I don't believe that, I believe it's a habit. What I believe is that's someone who practices being curious, and the more they practice, the better they get at it. It's like saying playing the piano is a trait. No, it's not, it's a habit. You're not born being able to play the piano, you have to learn it, and then you have to keep doing it if you're going to be any good at it.

 

Kindness is that. You might have a predilection towards it, but you got to practice it if you're going to be any good at it.[3]

In a time of caution, kindness is an act of courage.

In a time of selfishness, kindness embodies generosity.

In a time of suspicion, kindness creates relationships.

In a time of greed, kindness expresses freedom.

In a time of division, kindness builds bridges.

So the calling for the church, the church that wishes to grow, is to express what we believe through acts of kindness. As we have experienced the kindness of God through the love of Jesus Christ, so we extend it to strangers, to enemies, and friends. The quilts that we make for the homeless, the food we collect for the hungry, the trash we pick up from the roadside, the music we offer freely to the community – see this for what it is: the kindness of God is working its way into the world through us. Lives are changed. We are changed.   

So is the calling for our souls, so often bruised and broken by the world. One of the best ways to work through our own healing is to stop hovering over our bruises and to do something gracious for somebody else. When te world puts them down, find a way to lift them up. Fix a meal. Offer a ride. Find a way to spend time together. Go for a walk side by side. Send a handwritten note. Schedule a weekly phone call. Arrange for a surprise party. Celebrate their achievement. Show up at their public activity. Mail them an anonymous gift card. Buy them a coffee, pay for their meal. Most of all, be a human being to another human being.

Don’t settle for being yourself; be Christ-like. That is the work God wishes to do in us, creating and re-creating us to love as his Son loves: abundantly and without restrictions, freely and never seeking a reward. The more we do it, the better we become.

The fruit of the week is kindness. What is one thing that you might do this week? What gracious act could you offer to someone else? Take a moment. Write it down. Get on with the work of building your own soul and building up God’s church.

I’m talking about kindness. What is it, really?

In a certain town, a rabbi made a generous gift to a neighbor that had fallen on hard times. He did this each year on the eve of Passover. He would send his son to deliver a small sack of coins. Each year, it was a generous gift.

It came to pass that one year, he sent his son with the sack of coins, saying, “Take this to our poor neighbor.” A short time later, the son returned. He was visibly angry. He tossed down the sack of coins and threw himself in a chair.

The rabbi said, “I told you to take this gift to our poor neighbor.” The son said, “Poor neighbor indeed!”

What do you mean? The son said, “As I approached his hovel, I looked in through the window and saw our poor neighbor setting his table with expensive china dishes.” Did you say china dishes? “Expensive china dishes!”

“Not only that,” said the son, “I looked in once again. He was lighting the candles on two expensive silver candelabras.” Did you say silver candelabras? “I said expensive silver candelabras.”

“And not only that,” said the son, “I looked again, and our poor neighbor was pouring a very fine wine into crystal goblets.” Did you say a fine wine? “I said a very fine wine.”

“Hmm,” said the rabbi. “That changes everything. Apparently, our poor neighbor is a man accustomed to fine things. Take this gift back to him. Remind me next year to increase my gift.”[4]

 

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

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[1] Frederick Buechner, “Compassion,” in Wishful Thinking (New York: Harper and Row, 1973)

[2] Obituary: Richard D. Bush, https://www.lawrenceeyoungfuneralhome.com/obituary/659599  

[3] Malcolm Gladwell on the Carey Nieuwhof Leadership Podcast, https://youtu.be/OtoD9i8Ii60?t=1733

[4] Story attributed to Fred B. Craddock, a very kind man.

Living in the Spirit with Patience

James 5:7-11
2 Peter 3:8-15
July 9, 2023

William G. Carter

Be patient, therefore, beloved, until the coming of the Lord. The farmer waits for the precious crop from the earth, being patient with it until it receives the early and the late rains. You also must be patient. Strengthen your hearts, for the coming of the Lord is near. Beloved, do not grumble against one another, so that you may not be judged. See, the Judge is standing at the doors! As an example of suffering and patience, beloved, take the prophets who spoke in the name of the Lord. Indeed we call blessed those who showed endurance. You have heard of the endurance of Job, and you have seen the purpose of the Lord, how the Lord is compassionate and merciful.

 

Yesterday morning, one of you sent me a comic strip from the local newspaper. A young boy sits in a rowboat with a fishing pole in his hand. He says to father, “No bites.” The father replies, “Catching fish requires patience, son.” In the second and final panel, they return home. As they walk in the door, Mom says, “No luck?” And the son says, “Dad lost his patience after four hours.”

I had a good chuckle, so I sent a note to the one who shared it with me. “This is why I don’t go fishing.” I have no interest in sitting in a boat for four hours, only to have nothing bite.

So I might not be qualified to preach a sermon on patience. That’s the “fruit of the day.” We’ve heard about love, joy, and peace. Today, the fruit of the Holy Spirit is patience. What does it mean to say that God can make us patient? Or that patience is a personal quality developed by the Spirit’s work in our lives?

Love, joy, peace – all of those are great gifts. Patience? That will take some work and a whole lot of time.

If you’ve been blessed with children in your life, you’ve probably learned a lesson or two. Those little shavers can be easy to love. Then the day comes when they talk back. Or they resist all that great advice that you want to offer. Or they struggle with math problems that the parents can’t figure out. Or they borrow the family car and return it with an empty gas tank, not once, but every time. And you had asked to just go pick up some milk.

Of course, the kids grow impatient with the parents. The voice cries out from the back seat, “Are we there yet?” The mother comes home exhausted from work and the teenager complains there are no snacks in the cupboard.

The son pulls up a chair alongside his father’s wheelchair. With deep frustration, he says, “Daddy, you need to have something to eat. Come on, take a bite. Please?”

A good friend barely got to his job on Friday. He was driving on I-81. (Need I say any more?) He knows that, in Pennsylvania, we have only two seasons: winter and construction. He gave himself plenty of time. But there he sat, with no evidence for the delay. Traffic has simply stopped for no apparent reason. The longer he sat, the more annoyed he became. The air conditioning was on full blast – and he was getting hot.

Ever notice? Impatience is fueled by a lack of control. Try as we might, we don’t run our own schedules. We are unable to direct the lives of people we love, no matter how hard we try. Life does not allow us to get what we want, even if we work so hard to attain it. And sometimes the fish aren’t biting.

All of this is a continuing reminder that human life has limits. Ability is not infinite. Everything has a shelf life. There are plenty of people who don’t have the strength that they once did. Some cannot think as clearly as they used to. Tongues get twisted even in the most eloquent of elocutionists. Bones break. Spirits sag. Gravity takes over. Even in those with transplants or implants, no human body is completely made of steel or rubber; if it were, it would still rust and lose its bounce.

We are fragile. We are limited. We have only so much time and energy. These are the truths that reveal that we are mortals. We try so hard to outrun our frailty, fake our strength, or extend our expiration date. The truth is, in the most ultimate sense, God will have to finish what we cannot. And that’s OK. This is the beginning of wisdom.

Both of our scripture texts tackle the problem of patience by taking a long view. By looking at the problems of here and now through the sweep of eternity.

In the fifth chapter of the letter of James, James has just offered a bracing critique of how those-who-have blunder those-who-have-not. It’s a recurring human scheme. Take from the poor to feather the beds of the rich. Brother James doesn’t hold back. He turns to those who exploit the poor and gives an old-fashioned, “Woe to you” prophetic speech. “Your gold and silver will rust. Your fancy clothes will be unthreaded. You have given cheap wages to your workers and kept the excess only for yourself. But God is going to come.”

Then James turns from the rich toward the poor, particularly the poor within his own congregation. And he says, “Be patient, therefore, my beloved, until the coming of the Lord.”

Now, some would say, “Brother James, you’re telling the downtrodden to stay in their place.” Kind of sounds like what the eight white ministers said to Martin Luther King, Jr., when he was jailed during the Montgomery Bus Boycott in 1963. They put it in the newspaper, “Just cool it, King. Don’t get yourself worked up. These things will work out over time.” Dr. King fired back, “Justice delayed is justice denied.” We serve a God of justice, a God who will not wait while a few exploit the many.

See, there’s a way to be patient in all faithfulness. It’s not to throw up the hands and say there’s nothing we can do. Rather, Gospel Patience requires us to keep going on, to keep working for God’s dominion, to keep our eyes on the prize and work for the blessings that God intends for all the people. As Brother James says in his letter, “You fulfill the Law of God if you love your neighbor as yourself. But if you show partiality, you commit sin.” Patience should always be an expression of love.

We can hear it in the word that Brother James uses. His word for “patience” is not the general word for tolerance or endurance. It’s the word “makrothumeo.” Makro means “long” or “distant.” Thumeo is a word for “passion.” The sense is we’re in this for the long haul. We’re not going to give up. We are building slowly for an eternity if that’s what it takes. We want the fire in our hearts to keep burning and never go out.

No surprise that for Brother James, this kind of patience is a word about human relationships. This is really the payoff pitch. He’s telling us to take a long view of one another. An eternal view of one another. A patient, long-passion view.

In one of my favorite movies, Paul Newman plays a ne’er-do-well named Sully. Deep into his sixties, he never grew up. He rents an upstairs room from Miss Beryl, his eighth-grade English teacher. Every week, he bets on the racetrack, hoping he might hit the jackpot. Near the end of the film, Miss Beryl says, “Do you still bet on that horse race of yours?” Sully says, “What, the trifecta?”

   “Yes,” she says. Has it ever come in?” Sully says, “Not yet.”

 

Miss Beryl says, “But you still bet on it.” “Well, sure,” says Sully, “I mean, the odds have gotta kick in sooner or later.”

 

Miss Beryl says, “Fine. That’s exactly the way I feel about you.”[1]

Think about the long relationships you’ve seen. The enduring relationships you’ve known. No doubts, they’ve had their bumps. There have been twists and turns in the road. There have been starts and stops and stalls – just like driving down I-81 in construction season. Patience of the Spirit does not pay attention to the distractions on the journey. Rather, it sees the journey. It looks ahead toward the destination, even if that destination takes a good long while. Patience, true patience, never lets go. Never gives up. The odds gotta kick in sooner or later.  

With that in mind, we have that other text for today. It comes from the last chapter of the last book to get written down to be included for the New Testament. This is a letter from a preacher named Peter, and his message is simple: “God is eternal.” From God’s perspective, a thousand human years are like a single day. What takes forever for the likes of us is like the blink of God’s eye. Eternity is so immense. It goes on and on.

“But don’t get distracted,” says Preacher Peter. The Lord is going to come and transform everything. It’s going to happen.

OK, some would say, but why is it taking so long? Why is God so slow? Peter says, “God is not slow. No, no, no. God is patient – patient with all of you. Makrothumeo. God is giving you plenty of time to come to your senses, to return to your first love, to pick up the plow and start planting the garden of righteousness.” It’s going to take a while. Settle in for a long journey and keep going.

Eternal patience is unsettling in a world obsessed with hurry, and control, and rushing around, and instant gratification. But this is how God inclines toward us, with utmost patience. God’s patience is our opportunity to grow up, to mature and endure.

Some years ago, I was curious to learn of a monastery in the mountains of eastern France. It’s called the Grande Chartreuse. The monks live in seclusion. Nobody speaks unless they are chanting the psalms in the chapel. A filmmaker discovered them and thought this would make a great documentary. So he wrote a letter to the abbot, asking, “Can I tell your story on film? Just me, no crew. Single camera. Unobtrusive.” After a while, the abbot responded to say, “We’ll get back to you on that.”

Sixteen years later, the film maker received another letter. “We’re ready for you now, if you still wish to come.” So he packed up his camera, spent six months in a spare room in the enclosure, devoted another two and a half years to finish the documentary.[2]

I was intrigued to hear this, so I ordered the DVD and showed it to one of our groups. It was a two-hour film. We lasted about twenty-five, maybe thirty minutes. What did you think? Nobody said anything. Maybe they thought I was out of my mind. One crusty old bird, a man named Ed, spoke up. “It’s like watching paint dry.”

“Fair enough,” I said. “But the film is a parable. Think how patient God is with all of us. Makrothumeo. Be patient, beloved. Be patient, for God has “long passion” toward you and me.

There’s a rich writing by the French Jesuit, Pierre Teilhard de Chardin. I don’t know if it’s a poem or a prayer. De Chardin was a paleontologist (talk about taking a long view of things!). And he was a mystic, which means he took God very seriously. I’m going to read what he wrote and then we will move on. He speaks to all of us:

 

Above all, trust in the slow work of God.
We are quite naturally impatient in everything to reach the end without delay.
We should like to skip the intermediate stages.
We are impatient of being on the way to something unknown, something new.

 

And yet it is the law of all progress
that it is made by passing through some stages of instability—
and that it may take a very long time.

And so I think it is with you;
your ideas mature gradually—let them grow,
let them shape themselves, without undue haste.
Don’t try to force them on,
as though you could be today what time
(that is to say, grace and circumstances acting on your own good will)
will make of you tomorrow.

 

Only God could say what this new spirit
gradually forming within you will be.
Give Our Lord the benefit of believing
that his hand is leading you,
and accept the anxiety of feeling yourself
in suspense and incomplete.[3]

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

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[1] Nobody’s Fool (1994). https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0110684/

[2] Philip Groning, Into Great Silence (2004), https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Into_Great_Silence

[3] Pierre Teilhard de Chardin, SJ, excerpted from Hearts on Fire