tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11540817491399665222024-03-16T21:46:30.535-04:00The Sermons of Bill CarterA Presbyterian minister interprets the ancient scriptures for a new daypresbybophttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17551073066437287094noreply@blogger.comBlogger638125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1154081749139966522.post-78116354232423770122024-03-16T21:45:00.002-04:002024-03-16T21:45:38.836-04:00The End of the MatterEcclesiastes 11:9-12:14 <br />Lent 5 <br />March 17, 2024<div>William G. Carter <br /><br />
<p style="background: white; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .2in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span style="color: #010000;"><i>Rejoice, young man, while you are
young, and let your heart cheer you in the days of your youth. Follow the
inclination of your heart and the desire of your eyes, but know that for all
these things God will bring you into judgment. Banish anxiety from your
mind, and put away pain from your body; for youth and the dawn of life are
vanity.<o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<p style="background: white; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .2in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span style="color: #010000;"><o:p><i> </i></o:p></span></p>
<p style="background: white; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .2in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span style="color: #010000;"><i>Remember your creator in the days
of your youth, before the days of trouble come, <o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<p style="background: white; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .2in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span style="color: #010000;"><i>and the years draw near when you
will say, “I have no pleasure in them”; <o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<p style="background: white; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .2in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span style="color: #010000;"><i>before the sun and the light and
the moon and the stars are darkened and the clouds return with the rain; <o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<p style="background: white; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .2in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span style="color: #010000;"><i>in the day when the guards of the
house tremble, <o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<p style="background: white; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .2in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span style="color: #010000;"><i>and the strong men are bent, and
the women who grind cease working because they are few, <o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<p style="background: white; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .2in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span style="color: #010000;"><i>and those who look through the
windows see dimly; <o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<p style="background: white; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .2in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span style="color: #010000;"><i>when the doors on the street are
shut, and the sound of the grinding is low, <o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<p style="background: white; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .2in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span style="color: #010000;"><i>and one rises up at the sound of
a bird, and all the daughters of song are brought low; <o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<p style="background: white; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .2in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span style="color: #010000;"><i>when one is afraid of heights,
and terrors are in the road; <o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<p style="background: white; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .2in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span style="color: #010000;"><i>the almond tree blossoms, the
grasshopper drags itself along and desire fails; <o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<p style="background: white; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .2in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span style="color: #010000;"><i>because all must go to their
eternal home, and the mourners will go about the streets; <o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<p style="background: white; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .2in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span style="color: #010000;"><i>before the silver cord is
snapped, and the golden bowl is broken, <o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<p style="background: white; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .2in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span style="color: #010000;"><i>and the pitcher is broken at the
fountain, and the wheel broken at the cistern, <o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<p style="background: white; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .2in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span style="color: #010000;"><i>and the dust returns to the earth
as it was, and the breath returns to God who gave it.<o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<p style="background: white; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .2in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span style="color: #010000;"><o:p><i> </i></o:p></span></p>
<p style="background: white; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .2in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span style="color: #010000;"><i>Vanity of vanities, says the
Teacher; all is vanity. [ Besides being wise, the Teacher also taught the
people knowledge, weighing and studying and arranging many proverbs. The
Teacher sought to find pleasing words, and he wrote words of truth
plainly. The sayings of the wise are like goads, and like nails firmly
fixed are the collected sayings that are given by one shepherd. Of
anything beyond these, my child, beware. Of making many books there is no end,
and much study is a weariness of the flesh.]<o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<p style="background: white; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .2in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span style="color: #010000;"><o:p><i> </i></o:p></span></p>
<p style="background: white; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .2in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span style="color: #010000;"><i>The end of the matter; all has
been heard. Fear God, and keep his commandments; for that is the whole duty of
everyone. For God will bring every deed into judgment, including every
secret thing, whether good or evil.</i><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">A
few days ago, Anne Lamott wrote a wonderful article for the Washington Post. She
is a charming writer, an insightful observer, and a witty Presbyterian. They
are a rare breed, those witty Presbyterians. Now on the verge of turning
seventy, Anne writes about taking a daily walk with her friend Shelley.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Well,
they intend to walk every day, she said. It’s really four days a week, maybe
five. She and Shelley have been doing this for years. At their age, they don’t
walk as fast as they used to. The first lap around, they catch up on gossip.
What’s going on? What movies have they seen? What are the kids doing? <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Second
lap around, they talk less and look around a lot more. They listen to the creek,
listen to the drizzling rain. No need to say anything, she says. They “know
each other’s souls and shadows,” as well as each other’s major screw-ups, and
that provides comfort.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">By
the third lap, Anne says,<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraph" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .2in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">My hip has begun coughing quietly to get
my attention. It would like to go home now. My vision is even more blurry
because of the drizzle and thin light, added to the dry eyes. This is part of
what it means for me to be alive still, the blinky vision. Paradoxically, I see
more. Now, instead of the sharp focus, there’s an appreciation of shifts in light
that reveal the mutability of the world. The light sometimes changes minute by
minute, and with it we perceive changes in the energy around us, above us,
inside us. It moves our attention outside our squinty, judgy, little selves.<a href="file:///C:/Users/presb/Dropbox/Sermons/2024%20Sermons/2024%20Sermons%20-%20The%20End%20of%20the%20Matter.doc#_ftn1" name="_ftnref1" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn1;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-font-kerning: 1.0pt;">[1]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></span></a><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">I
don’t now if you noticed, but Anne was giving us the last chapter of the book
of Ecclesiastes. “This is the end of the matter,” says the Preacher. We get old
if we are lucky. We wear down and wear out if we get old. And if we are wise,
we see things differently from when we were young. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Oh,
it was good to be young, wasn’t it? Full of laughter, full of joy. The heart
was cheerful. The mind was not worried. Our desires were clear, our
inclinations were pursued. The aches and pains were few. And then what
happened?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Anne
Lamott says she was talking to Shelley and trying to remember the word “coaster.”
All she could come up with was the phrase “coffee pad.” Shelley started laughing
hard when she said it, she had to cross her legs, and then almost lost her
balance. (op.cit.)<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">And
the Preacher says, “<span style="color: #010000;">Remember your creator in the
days of your youth, before the days of trouble come.”</span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">I’ve
lived most of my life around people who are older than myself. My teachers were
older than me. My parents were older than me. Most of their friends were older
than them. And I’m a Presbyterian pastor. No need to do the math. I could
retire on the Riviera if I had a quarter for every time somebody said to me,
“Don’t ever get old.” I appreciate the thought, but thanks, I prefer to grow
old. I am not ready for the alternative. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Even
so, Ecclesiastes reminds all of us that aging is not for weak of heart. The centerpiece
of our text today is a rich poem about the effects of aging. The philosopher
who composes the book takes an imaginative spin down the corridors of the Shady Acres.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p style="background: white; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .25in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="color: #010000; font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="color: #010000;">“The sun and the
light and the moon and the stars are darkened.” In other words, the lights grow
dim.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="background: white; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .25in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="color: #010000; font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="color: #010000;">“The guards of the
house tremble.” Those are the arms and legs.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="background: white; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .25in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="color: #010000; font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="color: #010000;">“The strong man are
bent.” That’s the spine.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="background: white; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .25in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="color: #010000; font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="color: #010000;">“The women who grind
cease working.” Those are your teeth.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="background: white; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .25in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="color: #010000; font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="color: #010000;">“The doors on the
street are shut.” Want to guess? How do you spell constipation?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="background: white; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .25in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="color: #010000; font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="color: #010000;">“One rises up at the
sound of a bird.” True enough, because who sleeps the whole night through?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="background: white; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .25in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="color: #010000; font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="color: #010000;">“The almond tree
blossoms, the grasshopper drags itself along, desire fails.” What’s the poet
saying there? Let your imagination run wild.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="background: white; margin: 0in;"><span style="color: #010000;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p style="background: white; margin: 0in;"><span style="color: #010000;">Get the picture?
It’s the picture of, well, don’t call it “old age.” Call it the picture of extensive
experience. And it can happen at any time, not just at an advanced age. In any
accident, “the silver cord” can be snapped (that’s the spine). The “golden bowl”
might be broken (that’s our skull). To put it simply, life is fragile. We are
fragile. And trouble can come in any season. So, he says, “Remember your
creator before the times of trouble come.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">This,
in a nutshell, is why so many people skip over this book. They will remember
the Creator, perhaps faintly, but they prefer to avoid the times of trouble. In
fact, they hope that if they remember the Creator, it will keep them out of
times of trouble. Sadly, it doesn’t work that way.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">They
want to jump from the wisecracking book of Proverbs to the sexy sirens of the
Song of Solomon. Yet should they jump, they could trip and fall. That’s what
happened to a woman we know. She caught her sweater on the knob of her dresser,
swirled and fell. The impact from the fall caused her heart to stop. She’s going
to be OK, but it will be a long recovery. And it could happen to any of us. It
happened to an NFL player last year; he took a hard hit and his heart stopped.
Life is short. Life is dangerous. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">And
if I might quote Anne Lamott, <span style="background: white; color: #050505;">“The
greatest gift that people can accept at any age is that we’re on borrowed time
and they don’t want to squander it on stupid stuff.”</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">There are
preachers who speak of joy and health and salvation, but the Preacher of
Ecclesiastes is not one of them. At the end of his book, any possible effort to
develop life under our own ability has been explored and dismissed. Any attempt
to secure God’s favor or extend our longevity does not matter. Here’s a
Preacher who is so truthful that it hurts. Maybe he’s just a little too honest.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">While other
biblical writers speak of sin, the preacher of Ecclesiastes points to the
limits of human existence. God has planted a sense of eternity in our minds, he
says, but we cannot move beyond our mortal limits (3:11). We are stuck with
ourselves. Should we wish to escape, we pack ourselves in the suitcase whenever
we go.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Dogs, cats, and
turtles seem content to be themselves, but we humans are always looking for
ways to be something more than what we are. We explore for excitement. We
search for meaning. We shop for pleasure. But nothing ever quite advances our
situation. Some people give up early. Others keep flailing away at it. But the
whole enterprise of trying to improve ourselves is a form of vanity. It’s a
bunch of smoke.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The Preacher
reminds us that, no matter who we are, no matter how good we behave, no matter
how correct we are in our opinions, no matter how hard we labor, we are limited
by ourselves. We are stuck with ourselves. And if any joy dribbles down from
above, well, we had better not miss it. Because that’s all that we might ever
find. No amount of manufactured joyful noise will change that.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The southerner
Walker Percy graduated from medical school and practiced medicine for a while.
He worked as a pathologist in New York until he contracted tuberculosis. During
his recovery, he slowed down long enough to deal with his own soul. His father took
his own life. His mother died early. Percy began to realize that most people
don’t need another doctor; they need another kind of diagnosis. So, he became a
novelist. As he once noted, novelists are those who tell the truth even when they
are making up stories. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">One of the things
he noticed is how our culture keeps hawking success stories that do not work.
Try as we might, diet plans, get rich schemes, flimsy business plans, and
feel-good counselors. Percy said, “Whenever you have a hundred thousand
psychotherapists talking about being life-affirming and a million books about
life-enrichment, you can be pretty sure there is a lot of death around.”</span><a href="file:///C:/Users/presb/Dropbox/Sermons/2024%20Sermons/2024%20Sermons%20-%20The%20End%20of%20the%20Matter.doc#_ftn2" name="_ftnref2" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">[2]</span></span></span></a><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> Life can be so diminished
in a land of plenty. Walker Percy, again: “There is something worse than being
deprived of life; it is being deprived of life and not knowing it.”</span><a href="file:///C:/Users/presb/Dropbox/Sermons/2024%20Sermons/2024%20Sermons%20-%20The%20End%20of%20the%20Matter.doc#_ftn3" name="_ftnref3" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">[3]</span></span></span></a></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">Ecclesiastes 12 pushes us to face the
truth of our humanness. For the young person, it is a reminder of what is
coming. For the old person it is an affirmation of how it is. The end of the
matter is fearing God. Not in the sense of being afraid of God but trusting God.
Honoring God, worshiping God, submitting to God. Easier said than done. When
trouble hits, or aging slows us down, when the joints creak and the bones
break, we would love to bargain for more time. As medical care advances, we
find some help although it is limited. If possible, we would love to live
forever, if forever doesn't include aching bones and mental confusion. Even
this is vanity. A striving for the wind</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Eugene Peterson
says Ecclesiastes is not a meal; it’s a bath. In his words, “It is not
nourishment; it is cleansing. We read Ecclesiastes to get scrubbed clean from
illusion and sentiment, from ideas that are idolatrous and feelings that cloy.
It is an expose and rejection of every arrogant and ignorant expectation that
we can live our lives by ourselves on our own terms.”<a href="file:///C:/Users/presb/Dropbox/Sermons/2024%20Sermons/2024%20Sermons%20-%20The%20End%20of%20the%20Matter.doc#_ftn4" name="_ftnref4" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn4;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-font-kerning: 1.0pt;">[4]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></span></a> Only when we get cleansed
are we ready for God.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">That is about all
we can expect out of the book of Ecclesiastes. At the end of the book, the
Preacher says about all we can do is fear God and remember that God is more
important than we are. He tells us to honor God, who is beyond our capacity to
comprehend or understand. That is the end of it all, says the Preacher. Life is
not about gloom. Life is not about doom. Life is about accepting our limits,
and worshiping a God who stands beyond them.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-font-kerning: 0pt;">So, where do we stand at the end? What
are we left with? Only God. A God whom Ecclesiastes describes as the
originator, the hidden wisdom, the ultimate organizer, and the last word. Fear
this God. Honor this God. Affirm that we are ultimately in God's mercy.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-font-kerning: 0pt;">This is a prediction not only of our lives,
but an exposition of the life of Jesus. Or more specifically the death of
Jesus. For what does he say at the very end? Remember? “Into your hands I
commit my spirit.” It is a quote from one of the old Psalms,<a href="file:///C:/Users/presb/Dropbox/Sermons/2024%20Sermons/2024%20Sermons%20-%20The%20End%20of%20the%20Matter.doc#_ftn5" name="_ftnref5" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn5;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">[5]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></span></a>
and ultimately an affirmation that when all is lost, we are still found. God
knows us. God catches us. Honor and trust God alone.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-font-kerning: 0pt;">Get all that right, and we will be
ready to face Holy Week.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraph" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p>(c) William G. Carter. All rights reserved.</o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p>
<div style="mso-element: footnote-list;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><br clear="all" />
<hr align="left" size="1" width="33%" />
<!--[endif]-->
<div id="ftn1" style="mso-element: footnote;">
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><a href="file:///C:/Users/presb/Dropbox/Sermons/2024%20Sermons/2024%20Sermons%20-%20The%20End%20of%20the%20Matter.doc#_ftnref1" name="_ftn1" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn1;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-font-kerning: 1.0pt;">[1]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></span></span></a><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 10.0pt;"> Anne Lamott, “Aging
gives me gifts of softness and illumination,”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-font-kerning: 0pt;"><a href="https://www.washingtonpost.com/opinions/2024/03/14/anne-lamott-aging-life-friends-vision/"><span style="color: blue;">https://www.washingtonpost.com/opinions/2024/03/14/anne-lamott-aging-life-friends-vision/</span></a></span></p>
</div>
<div id="ftn2" style="mso-element: footnote;">
<p class="MsoFootnoteText"><a href="file:///C:/Users/presb/Dropbox/Sermons/2024%20Sermons/2024%20Sermons%20-%20The%20End%20of%20the%20Matter.doc#_ftnref2" name="_ftn2" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn2;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">[2]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></span></a>
Walker Percy, “Novel-Writing in an Apocalyptic Time,” in <i>Signposts in a
Strange Land</i> (New York: HarperCollins, 1991), 162.<o:p></o:p></p>
</div>
<div id="ftn3" style="mso-element: footnote;">
<p class="MsoFootnoteText"><a href="file:///C:/Users/presb/Dropbox/Sermons/2024%20Sermons/2024%20Sermons%20-%20The%20End%20of%20the%20Matter.doc#_ftnref3" name="_ftn3" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn3;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">[3]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></span></a>
Ibid, 163.<o:p></o:p></p>
</div>
<div id="ftn4" style="mso-element: footnote;">
<p class="MsoFootnoteText"><a href="file:///C:/Users/presb/Dropbox/Sermons/2024%20Sermons/2024%20Sermons%20-%20The%20End%20of%20the%20Matter.doc#_ftnref4" name="_ftn4" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn4;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">[4]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></span></a>
Eugene Peterson, in the author’s introduction to Ecclesiastes, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Message</i> (<st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Colorado Springs</st1:place></st1:city>: NavPress, 2002) 1162.<o:p></o:p></p>
</div>
<div id="ftn5" style="mso-element: footnote;">
<p class="MsoFootnoteText"><a href="file:///C:/Users/presb/Dropbox/Sermons/2024%20Sermons/2024%20Sermons%20-%20The%20End%20of%20the%20Matter.doc#_ftnref5" name="_ftn5" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn5;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">[5]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></span></a>
Psalm 31:5.<o:p></o:p></p>
</div>
</div></div>presbybophttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17551073066437287094noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1154081749139966522.post-61729864682587683832024-03-09T21:33:00.004-05:002024-03-09T21:33:41.467-05:00Life Within LimitsEcclesiastes 9:1-12 <br />Lent 4 <br />March 10, 2024<div>William G. Carter <br /><br />
<p style="background: white; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .2in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span style="color: #010000;">All this I laid to heart,
examining it all, how the righteous and the wise and their deeds are in the
hand of God; whether it is love or hate one does not know. Everything that
confronts them is vanity, since the same fate comes to all, to the righteous
and the wicked, to the good and the evil, to the clean and the unclean, to
those who sacrifice and those who do not sacrifice. As are the good, so are the
sinners; those who swear are like those who shun an oath. This is an evil
in all that happens under the sun, that the same fate comes to everyone.
Moreover, the hearts of all are full of evil; madness is in their hearts while
they live, and after that they go to the dead.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="background: white; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .2in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span style="color: #010000;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p style="background: white; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .2in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span style="color: #010000;">But whoever is joined with all
the living has hope, for a living dog is better than a dead lion. The
living know that they will die, but the dead know nothing; they have no more
reward, and even the memory of them is lost. Their love and their hate and
their envy have already perished; never again will they have any share in all
that happens under the sun. Go, eat your bread with enjoyment, and drink
your wine with a merry heart; for God has long ago approved what you
do. Let your garments always be white; do not let oil be lacking on your
head. Enjoy life with the wife whom you love, all the days of your vain
life that are given you under the sun, because that is your portion in life and
in your toil at which you toil under the sun. Whatever your hand finds to
do, do with your might; for there is no work or thought or knowledge or wisdom
in Sheol, to which you are going.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="background: white; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .2in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span style="color: #010000;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p style="background: white; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .2in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span style="color: #010000;">Again I saw that under the sun
the race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the strong, nor bread to the
wise, nor riches to the intelligent, nor favor to the skillful; but time and
chance happen to them all. For no one can anticipate the time of disaster.
Like fish taken in a cruel net, and like birds caught in a snare, so mortals
are snared at a time of calamity, when it suddenly falls upon them.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">We are nine
chapters in. By now, we can see what Ecclesiastes is up to. This unusual book
was written by a philosopher. He surveys his life and determines it is both
successful and empty. On one page after another, he sweeps off the table
everything he once thought important:</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"></p><ul style="text-align: left;"><li><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; text-indent: -0.25in;">Pleasure: “Whatever
my eyes desired, I didn’t hold back. And it became like reaching for a puff of
smoke.”</span></li><li><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Achievement: “I accomplished
so much, worked so hard, climbed so high. Then I discovered it was like chasing
the wind.”</span></li><li><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Money: “I worked
hard for my money. I chased after my money. I couldn’t get enough of my money. I
loved money. Then I discovered nobody loved me.”</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></li></ul><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">How sad. He had the
promise of a good life, a rich life, a successful life, and it ran through his
fingers like sand. He didn’t lose it. He still had all of it. Yet it didn’t
mean as much as he thought it would. Now he looks back, he reflects. What did
it all mean? All the promise, lost in its achievement. Quite sobering.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The scholars tell
us the book of Ecclesiastes was composed four or five hundred years after King
Solomon, but to us, it sounds like Solomon could have written it. He had plenty
of pleasure – the Bible says seven hundred wives and three hundred girlfriends.
I don’t know how he got an hour of sleep. He had piles of wealth, much of it
inherited; Jesus once referred to him as “Solomon in all his glory.” And he was
wise.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">His wisdom was the
gift of God. According to the Biblical account, which was composed by one of
his subjects, God was so impressed by King Solomon, that God said, “Ask for
whatever you want, and I’ll give it to you.” Solomon thought long and hard.
Anything he wanted! He could have said “give me more of what I already have,”
but he didn’t say it. He could have said, “Give me revenge over all my enemies,”
but he was too confident to make that his prayer. The king could have said, “Let
me live forever,” but he knew better.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Instead, Solomon
prayed, “Lord, make me wise. Wise enough to rule over your people. Wise enough
to know the difference between right and wrong. Wise enough to look under the
surface to see what is true.”<a href="file:///C:/Users/presb/Dropbox/Sermons/2024%20Sermons/2024%20Sermons%20-%20Life%20Within%20Limits.doc#_ftn1" name="_ftnref1" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn1;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-font-kerning: 1.0pt;">[1]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></span></a> God was pleased to grant
him that request. In the Bible tradition, there was nobody as rich or smart as
King Solomon.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">And now, in
Ecclesiastes, we hear the critique that comes if someone is richer and smarter
than everybody else. If I might summarize it this way, if you are richer and
smarter than everybody else, you still end up like everybody else. As the sage
says in his own poetic way, “<span style="color: #010000;">I saw that under the
sun the race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the strong, nor bread to
the wise, nor riches to the intelligent, nor favor to the skillful; but time
and chance happen to them all.” All of us end up the same.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #010000; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Do
you have a sense of why we are working through this text in the season of Lent?
It is so honest. Honesty strips the varnish off our furniture. In the light of
truth, there is no pretense, no privilege, no superiority, no escape from the
inevitable. </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">There’s that lady
that landed in the personal care home. They sold her large house and moved her
into a twenty-by-twenty-foot room. She was able to bring a few favorite
antiques. There’s a new tennis bracelet on her wrist, a gift from the son who said
he hoped to visit but hasn’t gotten there yet. Her daughter brought the cranberry
sweater with the designer logo. She seems to be doing well.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Yet this
afternoon, nobody is responding when she hits the call button. She taps it
again, and again. Mutters, “I deserve better than this.” Taps the call button
once more, and an overworked staff member appears at door. “What can I get you,
Sugar?” she says. The angry lady glares at her, laser beam eyes drilling a hole
in her caregiver’s head. Then she mutters, “I don’t remember. I can’t remember.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Life has a
leveling force. Despite the advantages of some, nobody gets much of an
advantage. Ecclesiastes knows this. “All the streams empty into the sea,” he
says, “and the sea is never full.” (1:7) Everything runs downhill. That’s not
always negative. Sometimes it can be OK.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">A man stopped by
to complain with his pastor. Not to complain about the pastor, at least, not
that time. No, he was upset by somebody he saw on television. As he described
the object of his scorn, “That tyrannical old man gets way too much attention.
He’s a scoundrel and not worthy of it.” He went on like that for ten minutes.
The pastor listened.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">After blowing off a
lot of pressurized steam, the man suddenly chuckled. “What is it?” said the
pastor. “Well, it just occurred to me that someday the one I despise will go
into the ground like anybody else. And every afternoon at 4:00, a visitor will
walk his poodle. And precisely at 4:05 each day, the dog will pause at that
ugly man’s grave, lift a leg, and anoint it.” They had a good laugh over that
one.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Why should any of
us think we are better than that? Ecclesiastes says, “<span style="color: #010000;">All
this I laid to heart, examining it all, how the righteous and the wise and
their deeds are in the hand of God. The same fate comes to all, to the
righteous and the wicked, to the good and the evil, to the clean and the
unclean, to those who sacrifice and those who do not sacrifice. As are the
good, so are the sinners; those who swear are like those who shun an oath… The
same fate comes to everyone.”</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #010000; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Do
you ever think about these things? I do because my work requires it. </span><span style="background: white; color: #333333; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Death is the recurring companion of the pastor. After a few
hundred funerals, you cease to fear it. Yet each singular loss remains real.
Each departure diminishes us.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="background: white; color: #333333; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Sometimes I’ve hiked three blocks up the hill and walked among
the tombstones. Each stone marks a story. Each name is a saint. Each dash
between the dates is a lifetime. It is good to greet my silent congregation and
remember each one.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="background: white; color: #333333; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">What stories they have told! The widowed schoolteacher who
never had children of her own but left an impression on a thousand adopted
grandchildren. The henpecked man who finally found peace when he laid down for
the last time. The jovial funeral director whose cancer went undiagnosed until
it was too late. The pretty woman whose husband never paid attention to her,
even when she was slipping away. The teenager who decided he had enough of his pain.
The ancient couple that died within hours of one another. The young infant who
never had a chance.</span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;" />
<br style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;" />
<span style="background: white;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; float: none; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">These stories are the stuff of our lives. My job
is to make grief official, bear it with their survivors for a while, point them
through the long sorrow, and suggest God’s presence in the thick of it. I would
be lying if I did not confess how my work as Grief Officiant quietly affects
me. John Donne said it right: </span><i style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">Any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in
mankind.<a href="file:///C:/Users/presb/Dropbox/Sermons/2024%20Sermons/2024%20Sermons%20-%20Life%20Within%20Limits.doc#_ftn2" name="_ftnref2" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn2;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="background: white; color: #333333; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-font-kerning: 1.0pt;">[2]</span></b></span><!--[endif]--></span></span></a></i></span><br />
<br style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;" />
<span style="background: white;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; float: none; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">It helps to walk among the stones. In time, each
story loses its shock but not its value. Wisdom is learned from the dead. We
calculate what is important by paying attention to the lives that passed before
us. We learn to love by seeing the incalculable value of each child of God. The
wise ones number their own days.</span></span><br style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;" />
<br style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;" />
<span style="background: white;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; float: none; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">I stop at the stones whose stories I know.
"Hello again," I say. "We miss you. We wish you peace in your
silence." They smile on us, these quiet saints. Their troubles are over,
their joy fulfilled.</span> After that, I say farewell. I depart a different
man. Love changes me.</span></span><br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" />
<!--[endif]--><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Do you ever
consider these things? Of course you do. Ecclesiastes speaks the inevitable
conclusion today, “Eat your bread with enjoyment. Drink your wine with a merry
heart, for God has long ago approved what you do.” Then my favorite line in the
whole book, “Enjoy life with the wife whom you love, all the days of your vain
life that are given you under the sun, because that is your portion in life and
in your toil at which you toil under the sun.” Love your wife; or love your
husband, or in the refrain of songwriter Stephen Stills, “love the one you’re
with.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Let love be the legacy
that remains. Let love be expressed in the gifts that we provide for the future
that outlasts each of us. Have you heard the poem “Epitaph,” by Merrit Malloy?
I think someone should read it for me when my time concludes. Goes like this:</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .2in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-font-kerning: 0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .2in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-font-kerning: 0pt;">When I die give what's left of me away<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .2in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-font-kerning: 0pt;">to children and old men that wait to die.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .2in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-font-kerning: 0pt;">And if you need to cry, <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .2in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-font-kerning: 0pt;">cry for your brother walking in the street beside you.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .2in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-font-kerning: 0pt;">And when you need me, put your arms around anyone<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .2in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-font-kerning: 0pt;">and give them what you need to give me.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .2in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-font-kerning: 0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .2in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-font-kerning: 0pt;">I want to leave you something,<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .2in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-font-kerning: 0pt;">something better than words or sounds.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .2in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-font-kerning: 0pt;">Look for me in the people I've known or loved,<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .2in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-font-kerning: 0pt;">and if you cannot give me away,<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .2in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-font-kerning: 0pt;">at least let me live in your eyes and not in your mind.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .2in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-font-kerning: 0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .2in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-font-kerning: 0pt;">You can love me most by letting hands touch hands,<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .2in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-font-kerning: 0pt;">Letting bodies touch bodies, <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .2in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-font-kerning: 0pt;">and by letting go of children that need to be free.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .2in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-font-kerning: 0pt;">Love doesn't die, people do.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .2in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-font-kerning: 0pt;">So, when all that's left of me is love,<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .2in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-font-kerning: 0pt;">give me away.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .2in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-font-kerning: 0pt;">I’ll see you at home in the earth.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Do you ever think
about these things? It’s the fourth Sunday in Lent, time to consider them.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Let me offer a
brief vignette as a way of rehearsing the benediction. It’s not my benediction,
it’s from a friend who has dropped out of contact. We were in the same
preachers’ group for twenty-five years, studying at the same table, sharing our
lives, swapping jokes and lies. I love that guy, but Alzheimer’s has wiped his memory
clean. When he was a pastor, he blessed his congregation with the same benediction
each week. He stood with his hands in the air, looked into the faces of friends,
enemies, and strangers, and repeated the same words every Sunday.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">It’s not my
benediction, and it wasn’t his benediction either. He found it in the journal
of the Swiss philosopher Henri-Frederic Amiel. Nevertheless, that benediction was
my friend’s gift to me, so I make it my gift to you: “Life is short, and we have
never too much time for gladdening the hearts of those who are traveling the
dark journey with us. Oh, be swift to love, make haste to be kind!”<a href="file:///C:/Users/presb/Dropbox/Sermons/2024%20Sermons/2024%20Sermons%20-%20Life%20Within%20Limits.doc#_ftn3" name="_ftnref3" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn3;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-font-kerning: 1.0pt;">[3]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></span></a><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<div style="mso-element: footnote-list;"><br /></div><div style="mso-element: footnote-list;"><br /></div><div style="mso-element: footnote-list;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]-->(c) William G. Carter. All rights reserved.<br clear="all" />
<hr align="left" size="1" width="33%" />
<!--[endif]-->
<div id="ftn1" style="mso-element: footnote;">
<p class="MsoFootnoteText" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><a href="file:///C:/Users/presb/Dropbox/Sermons/2024%20Sermons/2024%20Sermons%20-%20Life%20Within%20Limits.doc#_ftnref1" name="_ftn1" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn1;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-font-kerning: 1.0pt;">[1]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></span></span></a><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;"> 1 Kings 3:3-15.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
</div>
<div id="ftn2" style="mso-element: footnote;">
<p class="MsoFootnoteText" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><a href="file:///C:/Users/presb/Dropbox/Sermons/2024%20Sermons/2024%20Sermons%20-%20Life%20Within%20Limits.doc#_ftnref2" name="_ftn2" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn2;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-font-kerning: 1.0pt;">[2]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></span></span></a><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;"> John Donne, “No man is an island.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
</div>
<div id="ftn3" style="mso-element: footnote;">
<p class="MsoFootnoteText" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><a href="file:///C:/Users/presb/Dropbox/Sermons/2024%20Sermons/2024%20Sermons%20-%20Life%20Within%20Limits.doc#_ftnref3" name="_ftn3" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn3;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-font-kerning: 1.0pt;">[3]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></span></span></a><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;"> Journal entry, December 16, 1868, <i>Amiel’s
Journal: The Journal Intime of Henri-Frederic Amiel</i> (1885)<o:p></o:p></span></p>
</div>
</div></div>presbybophttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17551073066437287094noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1154081749139966522.post-72382148456272952572024-03-02T22:03:00.001-05:002024-03-02T22:06:52.028-05:00The Dark Side of Shiny Coins<p style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; margin: 2.4pt 0in 2.4pt 0.2in;">Ecclesiastes 5:10-6:9 <br />Lent 3 <br />March 3, 2024 <br />William G. Carter<br /><br /><span style="background-color: white; color: #010000;"><i>The
lover of money will not be satisfied with money; nor the lover of wealth, with
gain. This also is vanity. When goods increase, those who eat them
increase; and what gain has their owner but to see them with his
eyes? Sweet is the sleep of laborers, whether they eat little or much; but
the surfeit of the rich will not let them sleep. There is a grievous ill
that I have seen under the sun: riches were kept by their owners to their
hurt, and those riches were lost in a bad venture; though they are parents
of children, they have nothing in their hands. As they came from their
mother’s womb, so they shall go again, naked as they came; they shall take
nothing for their toil, which they may carry away with their hands. This
also is a grievous ill: just as they came, so shall they go; and what gain do
they have from toiling for the wind? Besides, all their days they eat in
darkness, in much vexation and sickness and resentment.<o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<p style="background: white; margin-bottom: 2.4pt; margin-left: .2in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 2.4pt; margin: 2.4pt 0in 2.4pt 0.2in; mso-para-margin-bottom: .2gd; mso-para-margin-left: .2in; mso-para-margin-right: 0in; mso-para-margin-top: .2gd;"><span style="color: #010000;"><o:p><i> </i></o:p></span></p>
<p style="background: white; margin-bottom: 2.4pt; margin-left: .2in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 2.4pt; margin: 2.4pt 0in 2.4pt 0.2in; mso-para-margin-bottom: .2gd; mso-para-margin-left: .2in; mso-para-margin-right: 0in; mso-para-margin-top: .2gd;"><span style="color: #010000;"><i>This
is what I have seen to be good: it is fitting to eat and drink and find
enjoyment in all the toil with which one toils under the sun the few days of
the life God gives us; for this is our lot. Likewise all to whom God gives
wealth and possessions and whom he enables to enjoy them, and to accept their
lot and find enjoyment in their toil—this is the gift of God. For they
will scarcely brood over the days of their lives, because God keeps them
occupied with the joy of their hearts.<o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<p style="background: white; margin-bottom: 2.4pt; margin-left: .2in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 2.4pt; margin: 2.4pt 0in 2.4pt 0.2in; mso-para-margin-bottom: .2gd; mso-para-margin-left: .2in; mso-para-margin-right: 0in; mso-para-margin-top: .2gd;"><span style="color: #010000;"><o:p><i> </i></o:p></span></p>
<p style="background: white; margin-bottom: 2.4pt; margin-left: .2in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 2.4pt; margin: 2.4pt 0in 2.4pt 0.2in; mso-para-margin-bottom: .2gd; mso-para-margin-left: .2in; mso-para-margin-right: 0in; mso-para-margin-top: .2gd;"><span style="color: #010000;"><i>There
is an evil that I have seen under the sun, and it lies heavy upon
humankind: those to whom God gives wealth, possessions, and honor, so that
they lack nothing of all that they desire, yet God does not enable them to
enjoy these things, but a stranger enjoys them. This is vanity; it is a
grievous ill. A man may beget a hundred children, and live many years; but
however many are the days of his years, if he does not enjoy life’s good
things, or has no burial, I say that a stillborn child is better off than
he. For it comes into vanity and goes into darkness, and in darkness its
name is covered; moreover it has not seen the sun or known anything; yet
it finds rest rather than he. Even though he should live a thousand years
twice over, yet enjoy no good—do not all go to one place?<o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<p style="background: white; margin-bottom: 2.4pt; margin-left: .2in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 2.4pt; margin: 2.4pt 0in 2.4pt 0.2in; mso-para-margin-bottom: .2gd; mso-para-margin-left: .2in; mso-para-margin-right: 0in; mso-para-margin-top: .2gd;"><span style="color: #010000;"><o:p><i> </i></o:p></span></p>
<p style="background: white; margin-bottom: 2.4pt; margin-left: .2in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 2.4pt; margin: 2.4pt 0in 2.4pt 0.2in; mso-para-margin-bottom: .2gd; mso-para-margin-left: .2in; mso-para-margin-right: 0in; mso-para-margin-top: .2gd;"><span style="color: #010000;"><i>All
human toil is for the mouth, yet the appetite is not satisfied. For what
advantage have the wise over fools? And what do the poor have who know how to
conduct themselves before the living? Better is the sight of the eyes than
the wandering of desire; this also is vanity and a chasing after wind.<o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 2.4pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 2.4pt; margin: 2.4pt 0in; mso-para-margin-bottom: .2gd; mso-para-margin-left: 0in; mso-para-margin-right: 0in; mso-para-margin-top: .2gd;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraph" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">There was good
news on the economy this week. Fidelity Investments reports the number of 401(k)
millionaires has skyrocketed. Between December 2022 and December 2023, the
number of retirement savers who have seven figure balances has increased by thirty
percent.</span><a href="file:///C:/Users/presb/Dropbox/Sermons/2024%20Sermons/2024%20Sermons%20-%20The%20Dark%20Side%20of%20Shiny%20Coins.doc#_ftn1" name="_ftnref1" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">[1]</span></span></span></a><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> They might grumble about
the current price of a dozen eggs, but they have enough in the bank to be quite
comfortable.</span></p><p class="MsoListParagraph" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoListParagraph" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">Do you know why I
bring this up? If we’re going to spend time with Ecclesiastes, we’re going to
have to talk about money. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoListParagraph" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoListParagraph" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">This often catches
people by surprise. Maybe you thought we were digging into a neglected book of
ancient Jewish philosophy. After all, we skipped over the famous poem of
chapter three, “For everything there is a season, turn, turn, turn.” Perhaps
you had hoped to sing along. Yet here is one more passage where the Preacher of
Ecclesiastes questions all our assumptions about the Good Life. In a suburban
town like this, that can be as subversive as hauling around dynamite in the
back of your Honda CRV. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoBodyText">In the text we
hear today, the Preacher of Ecclesiastes raises questions about money and the
possessions we purchase with it. From an ancient vantage point, he observes,
“People who love money are never satisfied with it” (5:10). After all, there
are two kinds of people who love money, who want more of it: those who don’t
have it and those who do.</p><p class="MsoBodyText"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoBodyText">Then he singles
out those who have it, saying, “Look at those to whom God gives wealth,
possessions, and honor! They lack nothing. They have everything they desire,
yet God does not enable them to enjoy these things” (6:2). </p><p class="MsoBodyText">Here is a Preacher
who pays attention to us. He opens our closets and looking at the perfectly
good clothes we no longer wear. When we are not looking, he sneaks out to the
garage and looks at all the things we have stashed there, most of which we have
forgotten that we own. He even follow us to the online marketplace, looking
over our shoulders at all the treasures we once convinced ourselves to purchase
and now want to unload.</p><p class="MsoBodyText">Suddenly he comes
up the basement stairs without warning, cobwebs still in his hair, and asks, “Do
you enjoy what you have?” Well, no, I don’t
have time to enjoy it all. He smiles and says, “You’ve got that right. You’re
running out of time.” It’s annoying.</p><p class="MsoBodyText">Visitors stop by
my study across the hall, take a seat, and we chat. Often one pauses, looks
around the shelves, and says, “You have a lot of books in here.” What I usually
don’t tell them is that I have just as many books at home. They may ask, “Have
you read all of these books.” Well, I suppose I’ll get to that someday. But don’t
they look impressive. One cynical codger once cut to the chase, “Why do you
have all these books if you aren’t going to read them?” I think his name was
Ecclesiastes.</p><p class="MsoBodyText">And then the
Preacher goes on to talk about money. It’s March, so he’s not trying to raise funding
for the annual budget. And he’s not offering advice on how to run a household.
No, he’s talking about money. For us, it’s paper, it’s metal disks, it’s a
sequence of electronic numbers. Money is completely neutral. It has no value
until we assign it a value.</p><p class="MsoBodyText">Like that
Confederate ten dollar bill that you bought in the back of a comic book. It’s
not worth anything now. Or those coins
and bills that you brought back from a distant country. This week, the lady in
the McDonald’s drivethrough gave me back a penny at the window. “Can’t take
this,” she said. “It’s Canadian.” But it’s a penny. She waited me out until I
could find a real penny.</p><p class="MsoBodyText">The Preacher of
Ecclesiastes is watching all of this. He knows what money and possessions can
ignite in our spirit. He also knows how materialism erodes our humanity.</p><p class="MsoBodyText">Some say this is
an historical note. In his commentary on Ecclesiastes, Dr. Leong Seow of Vanderbilt
suggests that Ecclesiastes was written in the fifth century B.C. At that time Jerusalem was bustling with
commerce. Many of its citizens had begun to model their lives after the
affluent people in the Persian Empire.</p><p class="MsoBodyText">Dr. Seow finds
evidence this was the first time Israel minted a consistent currency. The first
time the country dealt with cash in any systematic manner Before that, goods and services were handled
through homemade coins or the barter system. But now, there were national
coins. People began to put value on little round pieces of metal. The
well-to-do began to stockpile their money. Many aspired to have more money than
their neighbors. Some even broke the Sabbath to keep working. Gotta keep up
with Persians, you know.</p><p class="MsoBodyText">In the thick of
that economic environment, the Preacher begs the question, “Are you content
with what you have?” Ouch – he’s meddling! Then he goes for the jugular. “When
you’re gone, what is going to happen to all your stuff?”</p><p class="MsoBodyText">Those are the
issues, aren’t they? There’s a recent piece that I clipped from The New Yorker
that hit me between the eyes. I’ll give you a copy if you ask. It’s titled, “How
to Give Away Almost Everything.” It begins by quoting Randy Sabin of
Connecticut, who runs estate and Internet sales. He says, “People are stuck in
their houses and sick of their stuff. It’s staring them in the face. They have
to dust it.” More possessions than they need.</p><p class="MsoBodyText">The author says,</p><p class="MsoBodyText" style="margin-left: 0.2in;">What to do with this First World surplus? Your children don’t want it.
The son of a friend, when offered his pick of items from his grandfather’s
estate - antique clock? an Emmy? - took a toilet plunger. In my apartment, it’s
got so cluttered that sometimes, when I leave—usually to acquire more stuff—it
crosses my mind that I should leave a “Dear Burglar” note, urging the intruder
to help herself.<a href="file:///C:/Users/presb/Dropbox/Sermons/2024%20Sermons/2024%20Sermons%20-%20The%20Dark%20Side%20of%20Shiny%20Coins.doc#_ftn2" name="_ftnref2" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-no-proof: yes;">[2]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></a><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoBodyText"><o:p> </o:p>It’s comical, but
that doesn’t mean it is funny. Materialism can feel so good – and it drags us
down. The fifth and sixth chapters of Ecclesiastes help us to see things for
how they are. The writer of Ecclesiastes has no illusions about what money will
do, or will not do. He says, "If you work hard and don't have much money,
at least you have a good night's sleep. If you have money, if you have a lot of
stuff, it can keep you awake into the wee hours of the night" (5:12).</p><p class="MsoBodyText">The Preacher
reminds us, "We came into the world naked as a jay bird; we leave the
world in the same way. Between cradle and grave, we scramble to make as much
money as we can, even though we are too busy scrambling to enjoy what we have”
(5:15).</p><p class="MsoBodyText">The Preacher surveys
all of this and then uses a favorite phrase to describe our material pursuits.
It is the “vanity of vanities,” or literally, “the vapor of vapors.” That is,
chasing after money is like chasing after a puff of smoke. Yet we keep chasing after it. Why? What vacuum
are we trying to fill?</p><p class="MsoBodyText">If you ask this
question and we are ready to hear the gospel. The Preacher of Ecclesiastes is
able to diagnose our dis-ease. We have been infected by "affluenza."
Affluenza is the flu that people catch when they try to fill the hole in their
souls by going shopping. "Vanity of vanities," says the Preacher of
Ecclesiastes. Stockpiling your belongings is like chasing after the wind. It is
absurd.</p><p class="MsoBodyText">How did he know? <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoBodyText" style="margin-left: 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span><!--[endif]-->How did he know that you can go into a store,
pile up the shopping cart, and as you roll through the checkout line you notice
a third of your purchases were bought on impulse? By the time you get home, you
don’t even want some of it anymore.</p><p class="MsoBodyText" style="margin-left: 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span><!--[endif]-->How did he know that the couple that I
married off last year would separate because of a power struggle over the checking
account?</p><p class="MsoBodyText" style="margin-left: 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span><!--[endif]-->How did he know that children can be deeply
damaged when their parents try to fill all their own needs by buying thingsflipping
through catalogs?</p><p class="MsoBodyText">The Preacher asks,
“Are you content with what you have?” That question will not go away until we
come to the same conclusion as Ecclesiastes, namely, “There is nothing greater
than to enjoy what we have, and be satisfied with what we receive." (5:18)
At the heart of the issue are two essential truths: life is short and everything
we have comes from the grace of God.</p><p class="MsoBodyText">This is his
recurring insight. And it’s a pretty good exploration in the season of Lent. In
the shadow of the cross of Jesus, we are confronted with the limits of our own
mortality. We are also confronted by all those human attempts to ignore it.
Some of them are pretty ridiculous.</p><p class="MsoBodyText">Hear a parable. Some
time back, the local funeral director called. “I need somebody to conduct a
service,” he said. A prominent businessman had died suddenly. He did not have a
church home, but everybody in town knew him. His whole life had been dedicated
to the pursuit of wealth. There would be a memorial service in the funeral
home. The deceased would be decked out in an open casket. Then a procession
would take him to the cemetary.</p><p class="MsoBodyText">I checked the
calendar. My calendar was full. So, I pondered who I could recommend as a
substitute. Yes: how about the author of Ecclesiastes? His name is “The Preacher,”
one preacher is as good as another. I looked up the contact information for the
Preacher and passed it along. The funeral director got in touch. The Preacher
agreed to do the service.</p><p class="MsoBodyText">They gathered for
prayer. The Preacher spoke briefly; he didn’t know the man. Friends and family filled
in the gaps. Many offered their memories of the deceased. As the service
concluded, everybody passed by the open casket to pay their last respects. The
Preacher stood off to the side as many friends placed gifts inside the casket. Someone
put in a baseball glove and a Yankees cap. Another, a couple of roses. A few dropped
in personal notes and letters. There was a bottle of expensive single malt, and
a favorite nine iron.</p><p class="MsoBodyText">The last person to
approach the casket was the businessman’s accountant. She gently pulled back
the blanket, placed the business man’s checkbook in his stone-cold hands. Then
she pulled up the blanket as if she was tucking him in.</p><p class="MsoBodyText">According to
eyewitnesses, the Preacher laughed the whole way to the cemetery.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoListParagraph" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoListParagraph" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;"> (c) William G. Carter. All rights reserved.</span></p><div>
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<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><a href="file:///C:/Users/presb/Dropbox/Sermons/2024%20Sermons/2024%20Sermons%20-%20The%20Dark%20Side%20of%20Shiny%20Coins.doc#_ftnref1" name="_ftn1" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 10pt;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;">[1]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></span></a><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 10pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 10pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-font-kerning: 0pt;"><a href="https://finance.yahoo.com/news/soaring-number-of-americans-are-now-401k-millionaires-100001736.html?fr=sycsrp_catchall"><span style="color: blue;">https://finance.yahoo.com/news/soaring-number-of-americans-are-now-401k-millionaires-100001736.html?fr=sycsrp_catchall</span></a><o:p></o:p></span></p>
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<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><a href="file:///C:/Users/presb/Dropbox/Sermons/2024%20Sermons/2024%20Sermons%20-%20The%20Dark%20Side%20of%20Shiny%20Coins.doc#_ftnref2" name="_ftn2" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-font-kerning: 1.0pt;">[2]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></a> <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-font-kerning: 0pt;"><a href="https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2022/02/28/a-guide-to-getting-rid-of-almost-everything-decluttering">https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2022/02/28/a-guide-to-getting-rid-of-almost-everything-decluttering</a>
</span><o:p></o:p></p>
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</div>presbybophttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17551073066437287094noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1154081749139966522.post-48466004308661900182024-02-24T23:06:00.000-05:002024-02-24T23:06:14.502-05:00When Work Becomes a BurdenEcclesiastes 2:18-28, 4:4-4:8 <br />Lent 2 <br />February 25, 2024 <br /><br />
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .2in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span style="background: white; color: #010000; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">I hated all my toil in
which I had toiled under the sun, seeing that I must leave it to those who come
after me —and who knows whether they will be wise or foolish? Yet they
will be master of all for which I toiled and used my wisdom under the sun. This
also is vanity. So I turned and gave my heart up to despair concerning all
the toil of my labors under the sun, because sometimes one who has toiled
with wisdom and knowledge and skill must leave all to be enjoyed by another who
did not toil for it. This also is vanity and a great evil. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .2in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span style="background: white; color: #010000; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .2in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span style="background: white; color: #010000; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">What do mortals get
from all the toil and strain with which they toil under the sun? For all
their days are full of pain, and their work is a vexation; even at night their
minds do not rest. This also is vanity. There is nothing better for
mortals than to eat and drink, and find enjoyment in their toil. This also, I
saw, is from the hand of God; for <a name="_Hlk159705701">apart from him
who can eat or who can have enjoyment? For to the one who pleases him God
gives wisdom and knowledge and joy</a>; but to the sinner he gives the work of
gathering and heaping, only to give to one who pleases God. This also is vanity
and a chasing after wind….<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .2in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span style="background: white; color: #010000; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p style="background: white; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .2in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span style="color: #010000;">…Then I saw that all toil and all
skill in work come from one person’s envy of another. This also is vanity and a
chasing after wind. Fools fold their hands and consume their own
flesh. Better is a handful with quiet than two handfuls with toil, and a
chasing after wind.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="background: white; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .2in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span style="color: #010000;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p style="background: white; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .2in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span style="color: #010000;">Again, I saw vanity under the
sun: the case of solitary individuals, without sons or brothers; yet there
is no end to all their toil, and their eyes are never satisfied with riches.
“For whom am I toiling,” they ask, “and depriving myself of pleasure?” This
also is vanity and an unhappy business.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">It was a celebration.
Most of the office gathered in the conference room. There were balloons and vanilla
cake with the blue words, “Happy Retirement.” The secret had been kept for most
of the month. Now, the crowd stood quietly as Tom was called to the conference
room. “Surprise!” they shouted as he stepped into the room. He saw the cake,
the balloons, and the co-workers he enjoyed.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Tom wipes a tear
from his eye. He says, “Thank you. I’m going to miss all of you.” They echoed
him, “We’re going to miss you too.” Someone shouted, “Speech, speech!” Another
voice chimed in, “Yes, give us one last word!” Tom cleared his throat, paused for
a minute. Someone said, “Come on, Tom. Speech!”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“I’m not much for
speeches,” he said, “but I do have something to say.” People grinned and
collectively leaned forward. “It’s time for me to go,” he said, “but when I’m
gone, don’t mess everything up.” There was laughter. Then somebody realized he
wasn’t kidding. That was his final word.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">It is an
Ecclesiastes word. The Preacher Poet who composes the book has seasoned
experience. He knows how hard work can unravel quickly. Here in chapters two
and four, he reflects on his high accomplishments. And he pays attention to
what will likely happen when he is no longer in the picture. Such hard work, such
total devotion, and one day it will come to nothing.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">It can happen in
business. Imagine, if you will, an excellent newspaper in a small city. The
staff has outlived a lot of competition while keeping their standards high. That
newspaper won awards for its reporting. They had a good habit of hiring good
people. Many started early in their careers. They were green but skilled,
technologically up to date, and hungry. They do good work. Their work is well
respected.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">But alas, the
owners of the newspaper have a family squabble. Some want to move on to other pastures
that have, shall we say, a lot of green. They have quietly sought offers to
purchase the company, offers that will make them even richer. When the plot is
exposed, the others say, “But this paper has been our life.” The squabble
continues. The offer is generous. There is fear the new owners will shrink the
product, outsource the labor, sell the building, and trim the local coverage. The
matter will be decided by the owners. The workers will not be consulted.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">A secret ballot is
suggested, but the minority says, “No, everybody speaks.” The vote is taken,
the grim news is given a positive spin. The staff is trimmed, the building
sold, the paper printed in a plant three hours away – save money to make more
money. When the dust settled, the three pieces of newsprint produced on four
days a week are almost thick enough to wrap your leftover fish. “It’s all a
matter of business,” say the new owners, while the former owners stay silent. That
is a hypothetical situation, you understand.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">And Ecclesiastes
understands. Today’s confession is clear: “<span style="background: white; color: #010000;">I hated all my toil in which I had toiled under the sun,
seeing that I must leave it to those who come after me —and who knows
whether they will be wise or foolish?” This is vanity. Foolishness is always a
possibility, especially among those driven by competition, selfishness, or
simple shortsightedness.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">It happens. We
know it happens. It happens in organizations. The office keeps careful files. They
hold some sensitive information under lock and key. As the organization ebbs
and flows, a new administrator comes in. He decides filing cabinets are a thing
of the past. He makes his case that a virtual office is better than a physical
one. “Think of all the rent money that could be saved,” he says.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Before the
property is shut down, all the documents are sent off to be scanned, then
placed online in a digital cloud. There is full assurance that the information will
be readily accessed by leaders with appropriate passwords. What happens? You
know what happens. There is turnover of leadership. When a crisis emerges,
somebody looks for the files. The leaders are redirected to the cloud. Nobody
can find the passwords.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Ecclesiastes
surveys the situation and shakes its head. “Vanity of vanities” is the
theological appraisal. Why did we work so hard for something that came to
nothing? It’s a good question. It is a hard question. It’s an important
question for the season of Lent. There is a time limit for us, for our work, for
the work that we do. God is eternal; we are not. No matter how loudly we
protest, time rolls on.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">I was intrigued by
the recent news, now reported by the Smithsonian. Smart scientists flew over
the rain forests in the Amazon. From a helicopter 650 feet high, they pointed a
special radar device at an area of Bolivia. </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">It reads beneath
the forest canopy, down into the soil. They discovered the ancient structures
of a massive city surrounded by many villages. A million people might have
lived there 1500 years ago, long before the European conquerors arrived. An
entire civilization disappeared. It is now buried fifty feet beneath the rain
forest.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The region was
once described as “uninhabitable land.” It was widely believed by the Europeans
that nobody had ever lived there. But that was not true. It was a competent,
organized, technological savvy civilization. They had canals and reservoirs, a
huge, fully urbanized community. They built it – and it came to nothing.<a href="file:///C:/Users/presb/Dropbox/Sermons/2024%20Sermons/2024%20Sermons%20-%20When%20Work%20Becomes%20a%20Burden.doc#_ftn1" name="_ftnref1" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn1;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-font-kerning: 1.0pt;">[1]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></span></a> Time marched on.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Like what happened in my Eagle Scout project. When I asked the leaders of my childhood church if
there was a service project that I could organize to earn my badge, they
pointed me to the graveyard next door. It needed a lot of work. Many of the
graves had sunken, leaving rectangular depressions in the ground. We brought in
wheelbarrows of topsoil, filled them, and raked in some grass seed.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The harder work had
to do with the tombstones. Several of them were covered with moss. I assigned two
of the younger Scouts to scrub them with steel wool. It didn’t go well. At one
point, one blustered out, “Why am I cleaning up a tombstone of somebody whose
name has been washed away?” Good question. The elements had worn away the identity.
He said, “Can’t we just let this one go? We don’t even know who it is.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">That reminds me of
last Monday’s episode of NCIS. A beloved member of the NCIS staff died in his
sleep. The team is shaken. They reflect on the death. One of them says
something like, “There are two deaths. The first is the moment you die. The
second death is when they stop telling stories about you.”</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">I hate to bring this
up, but it is the season of Lent. Lent is the time to chew on the charcoal of
our own mortality. Ecclesiastes is one of the few Biblical documents to lay everything
out so honestly. We pursue medical treatments to stay healthy or get healthy.
Sometimes they work for a while. Or like the community of Whos in Dr. Seuss’s
book, “Horton Hears a Who,” we protest against destruction by shouting, “We are
here, we are here, we are here.” We want to be noticed. We want life to go on.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">To this,
Ecclesiastes gives a provisional answer. Rather than the vain dream of going on
continuously, the Preacher says, “Make the most of the life that you have.”
There are limitations. There are inevitable conclusions. But there can be
enjoyment even in the work that we do. And if it finds us, grab hold and take it
for all that it’s worth.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Like the retired lady
who volunteers at the same office where she retired. She shows up, everybody
exclaims, “We thought you retired.” She says, “I did.” What are you doing here?
She looks both ways, then says, “Don’t tell anybody, but I really liked what I
did.” Hear that? She’s not doing it for the money. She simply likes doing the
work.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Or that ancient professor
of mine who translated the whole Bible. Long after he stopped teaching classes,
he still burrowed down in the university library. Kept dressing in a tweed
jacket and tie, long after he had to. Somebody got up the courage to ask, “Dr.
Metzger, why are you here?” He smiled and said, “I love to learn. That was the
best part of my job. So, I’m still learning.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Or the volunteer
who agrees to serve the church council. Or the Girl Scout leader whose daughter
outgrew the Girl Scouts, yet she keeps track of the cookie orders. Or the
grownup kid who loves to sing in the choir. Or the guy with the artificial leg
who coaches the soccer team.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Let’s hear a good
word for enjoyment. Ecclesiastes says it is a gift from God. “<span style="background: white; color: #010000;">Apart from God who can eat or who can
have enjoyment? For to the one who pleases him God gives wisdom and
knowledge and joy.”</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="background: white; color: #010000; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">As Bible books go, Ecclesiastes is not full of good news. It’s
full of news – just not good news. It describes the way things are, not the way
things ought to be. And yet, when joy finds you, give it a big hug and do not let
go. Don’t let go until the day when you have to let go.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">We live our short
lives in the light of God’s eternity. That is the truthful news of Ecclesiastes,
who speaks on behalf of all the scriptures. Other news outlets will rise and
fall. Institutions can collapse under their very human decisions. The houses we
build will be covered someday by vegetation, the names on our stones will fade,
and the artificial intelligence that boasts of its own eternity will someday be
unplugged and exposed as artificial. That is the way of all things.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">What do we do? We
keep the stories alive across the generations. We remember the people we have
loved. We share the lessons we are still learning. We offer field reports of
the Easter eggs we have found – “there’s one over here!” Most of all, we gently
push one another beyond the fleeting shadows of this age to the light of God’s
eternity. This is the beginning of wisdom. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<div style="mso-element: footnote-list;"><br /></div><div style="mso-element: footnote-list;"><br /></div><div style="mso-element: footnote-list;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]-->(c) William G. Carter. All rights reserved.<br clear="all" />
<hr align="left" size="1" width="33%" />
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<div id="ftn1" style="mso-element: footnote;">
<p class="MsoFootnoteText" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><a href="file:///C:/Users/presb/Dropbox/Sermons/2024%20Sermons/2024%20Sermons%20-%20When%20Work%20Becomes%20a%20Burden.doc#_ftnref1" name="_ftn1" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn1;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-font-kerning: 1.0pt;">[1]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></span></span></a><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;"> See, for instance, the report in <a href="https://www.bbc.com/news/science-environment-67940671">https://www.bbc.com/news/science-environment-67940671</a><o:p></o:p></span></p>
</div>
</div>presbybophttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17551073066437287094noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1154081749139966522.post-27405945946341426072024-02-17T23:31:00.001-05:002024-02-17T23:31:29.399-05:00When Pleasure is No FunEcclesiastes 2:1-17 <br />Lent 1 <br />February 18, 2024<div>William G. Carter <br /><br />
<p style="background: white; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .2in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span style="color: #010000;"><i>I said to myself, “Come now, I
will make a test of pleasure; enjoy yourself.” But again, this also was
vanity. I said of laughter, “It is mad,” and of pleasure, “What use is
it?” I searched with my mind how to cheer my body with wine—my mind still
guiding me with wisdom—and how to lay hold on folly, until I might see what was
good for mortals to do under heaven during the few days of their life. I
made great works; I built houses and planted vineyards for myself; I made
myself gardens and parks, and planted in them all kinds of fruit trees. I
made myself pools from which to water the forest of growing trees. I
bought male and female slaves, and had slaves who were born in my house; I also
had great possessions of herds and flocks, more than any who had been before me
in Jerusalem. I also gathered for myself silver and gold and the treasure
of kings and of the provinces; I got singers, both men and women, and delights
of the flesh, and many concubines. <o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<p style="background: white; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .2in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span style="color: #010000;"><o:p><i> </i></o:p></span></p>
<p style="background: white; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .2in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span style="color: #010000;"><i>So I became great and surpassed
all who were before me in Jerusalem; also my wisdom remained with
me. Whatever my eyes desired I did not keep from them; I kept my heart
from no pleasure, for my heart found pleasure in all my toil, and this was my
reward for all my toil. Then I considered all that my hands had done and
the toil I had spent in doing it, and again, all was vanity and a chasing after
wind, and there was nothing to be gained under the sun.<o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<p style="background: white; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .2in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span style="color: #010000;"><o:p><i> </i></o:p></span></p>
<p style="background: white; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .2in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span style="color: #010000;"><i>So I turned to consider wisdom
and madness and folly; for what can the one do who comes after the king? Only
what has already been done. Then I saw that wisdom excels folly as light
excels darkness. The wise have eyes in their head, but fools walk in
darkness. Yet I perceived that the same fate befalls all of them. Then I
said to myself, “What happens to the fool will happen to me also; why then have
I been so very wise?” And I said to myself that this also is vanity. For
there is no enduring remembrance of the wise or of fools, seeing that in the days
to come all will have been long forgotten. How can the wise die just like
fools?<o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<p style="background: white; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .2in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span style="color: #010000;"><o:p><i> </i></o:p></span></p>
<p style="background: white; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .2in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span style="color: #010000;"><i>So I hated life, because what is
done under the sun was grievous to me; for all is vanity and a chasing after
wind.<o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">Every so often we
hear a story of somebody who had it all: money, big houses, closets full of clothing,
a kitchen full of premium appliances, exclusive memberships in clubs, sports
cars, wide circles of influence and power, countless friends, and admirers.
They have it all – and it doesn’t turn out very well.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">Those stories, as
told in books, television, or the news, can be understood as morality plays. They
teach us life lessons, especially for those of us who will never have what that
person has. Somebody ascends like the mythical figure Icarus, flying into the
sky on homemade wax wings. Alas, he flies too close to the sun. The wings melt.
He plummets to the earth. It’s an ancient story, an imaginative myth, and it teaches
us something valuable.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">I’ll never forget
when I bought my first lottery ticket. It’s never been my habit to gamble, even
on a two-dollar super-duper sweepstakes. But the jackpot was enormous. There
were no winners, so the jackpot got bigger. So, I bought a ticket. My
imagination was on fire. What if I hit it big? I wouldn’t have to drive an old
car. I could get the house fixed up. I could hire a lawn squad to take care of
the property. I would have a lot more elbow room for paying my bills. One
night, I watched the little balls pop out of the machine – three of those numbers
were the same as mine. I could win this thing. I didn’t, not that night, nobody
did, so the jackpot increased.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">I told my father
about it. He listened, then began to smile. As I shared my vain dreams, the
smile became a smirk. Finally, I said, “What’s so funny?” Then he told me about
a man who won the Super Six lottery in his hometown. A truck driver, I think.
He became a millionaire overnight. Fortune smiled. He dumped his wife, found
somebody else half her age. He moved out of the double wide trailer and bought
a mansion high above the Allegheny River. The day he bought the winning ticket,
he had $2.46 in his bank account. He blinked and won $16 million.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Alas, said my dad,
it did not turn out well. The man bought a restaurant in Florida, a liquor
license, and a used car lot. Then he bought a plane, even though he didn’t have
a pilot’s license. Three months after the first payment on the ticket, he was
half a million in debt. And then his brother hired a hit man to take him out in
the hopes of getting the inheritance; that didn’t work, although it was a
strain on the lottery winner’s sixth marriage.<a href="file:///C:/Users/presb/Dropbox/Sermons/2024%20Sermons/2024%20Sermons%20-%20When%20Pleasure%20Is%20No%20Fun.doc#_ftn1" name="_ftnref1" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn1;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-font-kerning: 1.0pt;">[1]</span></span></span></span></a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Are you seeing a
theme here? Dad said, “Are you sure you want to win the lottery?” I mean, look
at what happened to that guy. It was a haunting tale, so haunting that I threw
away my lottery ticket. It’s still out there somewhere if you want it.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">No doubt, the man
in my dad’s true-life tragedy tale was inept. He didn’t have access to the kind
of wealth management services that you and I might have. If we hit it big, you
and I, what would we do? I mean, after writing out a check for our church’s endowment.
First phone call would be to an attorney, then a financial planner, and then a
security service to guard the home. We probably wouldn’t buy a Cessna if we had
no license to fly.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">And even if we guarded
all that wealth, something could go wrong. Not falling into debt, but something
far worse. Listen to the tale of woe from the Preacher of Ecclesiastes.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .3in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .3in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">I had it all. I had houses, vineyards,
gardens, parks, and pools (plural).<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .3in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">I had hundreds of people working for me. I
owned them. <o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .3in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">I had more sheep and cattle than anyone
ever had. <o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .3in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">I plundered the silver and gold of
kingdoms.<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .3in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">I had hundreds of lovers and other
delights of the flesh. <o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .3in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">And I hired countless number of musicians.</span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Then comes the
last line of that bragging list: “And I hated life.” Oof. He had it all and he
hated it.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">What happened? Was
he accused of swindling other people and lost the court case? No, there’s no
mention of that. In fact, everything he did was legal and legitimate, at least
for the time and place in which he lived (which may have been about four
hundred years before Jesus). The sage of Ecclesiastes was honest. He was successful.
He was blessed – or at least incredibly lucky. Everything he touched turned to
gold. Every project he undertook was completed and paid for. Every
accomplishment in his career brought him greater attention and acclaim. And it
all made him sick to his stomach. Oy vey.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">What went wrong?
Can we make a diagnosis? It would be immensely helpful for us to understand, if
only to know where life went off the track.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">This is not
Ebenezer Scrooge, holed up in his big house, counting his piles of cash but too
cheap to put another chunk of coal on the fire. This is not the Hollywood rising
star, winning the people’s choice award and unable to manage the sudden fame.
This is not one of those pop singers on the Grammies, few of which I’ve ever
heard of, shooting like a rocket, then disappearing after the hit song
evaporates. No, something else is going on.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Is it boredom? Could
be, we don’t know. It sounds like he has seen and heard it all, over and over.
Sure, when you heard we would dig into Ecclesiastes for Lent, maybe you thought
of chapter three. “For everything there is a season, turn, turn, turn.” Well,
that’s a little bit from chapter three. Take the poem in context, and it sounds
more like an endless cycle of the seasons. There’s a time for war, a time for
peace, and then another time for war, and a time for peace. Life keeps circling
around. What goes around comes around. Here we go again.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">If you have put in
a lot of time, you’ve seen it go around and around, too. Haven’t you? S.S.D.D. –
same stuff, different day. And there can be a weariness, especially as the
years accumulate and nothing improves. Ecclesiastes teaches that progress is
overrated. Isn’t that true? I am old enough to remember someone say, “Computers
will make your life easier.” Does anybody believe that to be true? Only if your
hard drive has never crashed or your passwords have never been stolen. The
truth is computers allow us to do more in less time than ever before. They can
be wonderful tools. Yet they cannot make our lives any more substantial.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">What’s going on
with the Preacher of Ecclesiastes? Is he depressed, an ancient Eeyore braying
out that everything turns out poorly? Possibly, but just a few lines below
today’s text, we hear him say, “There is nothing better for mortals than to eat
and drink and find enjoyment in their toil.” (2:24). He says it more than once.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">No doubt someone
will stop me at coffee hour and say, “Why didn’t you give us that verse, rather
than the others?” Well, the quick answer is, “It’s Lent.” The better answer is,
“There are more verses like these in Ecclesiastes than the happy ones you like.”
And the best answer of all is this is a document of Jewish wisdom. As such, it
has no intention of being logically consistent. Rather, this is a dialogical
text. It skittles back and forth. In that dialogue, the Preacher pushes us to
consider what is truly valuable about life. What really matters. If we have a quick
answer, it’s probably not the right answer. To truly embrace the holy gift of
life, we don’t skim across the surface. We dive into the depths.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">So, tell me: what
really matters? How do we spend our time, our money, our energy? Today, in
chapter two, we hear the Preacher say there is limited joy in pleasure. There
is limited satisfaction in consumption. It’s like eating too much chocolate
cake. A little bit is tasty; too much is really too much.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Sure, we can jet
off to Vegas, see a show, and throw some chips on the table. I’ve been there. It
is what it is, an expensive distraction. Some of it is cheesy and mundane. Some
of it appeals to the senses, provoking a WOW around every street corner. And there
was that moment when six Elvis Presleys walked down the sidewalk. That was
cool. If you enjoy the entertainment, and some of you do, then enjoy it.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">But Ecclesiastes
invites us to test the experience. The Preacher presses us to ask, “Why are
there so many sad people in the casino? Why, at the floor show, are there some
who are too numb to sing along? Why do those who devote themselves to
consumption end up getting consumed?” And why are there a thousand people experiencing
homelessness who <a href="https://www.casino.org/news/f1-to-remove-tunnel-population-living-beneath-las-vegas-strip/" target="_blank">live in the stormwater tunnels</a> below the Las Vegas strip? There
are no quick answers; yet a life that matters will ask the questions.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Now, I will be the
first to agree: Ecclesiastes is a strange book. In the sixty-six books of
scripture, it stands off to the side and scowls. As we make the long Lenten
journey toward Easter, Ecclesiastes is a grumpy old man scowling on the park
bench. He pops all the yellow balloons, then says, “See, I told you this could happen.”
Like it or not, he reminds us that life is not all thrills and titillations.
There are disappointments, too, and they match or exceed every success. Our
true purpose will not be found chasing after the next new pleasure or the big
new purchase.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">So, welcome to a
journey with Ecclesiastes for Lent. We will read this scripture – and it will
read us. As it scrapes away all that is false, all that is empty, all that is
enticing, we are left with nothing but God. In the end, this is all that
matters. And the invitation of faith is to lean toward the eternal God who alone
can complete what we cannot. This is the beginning of wisdom.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<div style="mso-element: footnote-list;"><br /></div><div style="mso-element: footnote-list;"><br /></div><div style="mso-element: footnote-list;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]-->(c) William G. Carter. All rights reserved.<br clear="all" />
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<p class="MsoFootnoteText" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><a href="file:///C:/Users/presb/Dropbox/Sermons/2024%20Sermons/2024%20Sermons%20-%20When%20Pleasure%20Is%20No%20Fun.doc#_ftnref1" name="_ftn1" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn1;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-font-kerning: 1.0pt;">[1]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></span></span></a><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;"> Read the sad tale here: <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/William_Post">https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/William_Post</a>
<o:p></o:p></span></p>
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</div></div>presbybophttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17551073066437287094noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1154081749139966522.post-3978076270230581162024-02-14T16:07:00.011-05:002024-02-14T16:07:58.597-05:00Dust in the Wind<p>Ecclesiastes 1:1-18 <br />Ash Wednesday <br />February 14, 2024 <br />William G. Carter<br /> <br /><span style="background-color: white; color: #010000;"><i>The words of
the Teacher, the son of David, king in Jerusalem. Vanity of vanities, says
the Teacher, vanity of vanities! All is vanity. What do people gain from
all the toil at which they toil under the sun?</i></span></p>
<p style="background: white; margin: 0in;"><span style="color: #010000;"><i>A generation
goes, and a generation comes, but the earth remains forever. The sun rises
and the sun goes down, and hurries to the place where it rises. The wind
blows to the south, and goes around to the north; round and round goes the
wind, and on its circuits the wind returns. All streams run to the sea,
but the sea is not full; to the place where the streams flow, there they
continue to flow. All things are wearisome; more than one can express; the
eye is not satisfied with seeing, or the ear filled with hearing.</i></span></p>
<p style="background: white; margin: 0in;"><span style="color: #010000;"><o:p><i> </i></o:p></span></p>
<p style="background: white; margin: 0in;"><span style="color: #010000;"><i>What has
been is what will be, and what has been done is what will be done; there is
nothing new under the sun. Is there a thing of which it is said, “See,
this is new”? It has already been, in the ages before us. The people of
long ago are not remembered, nor will there be any remembrance of people yet to
come by those who come after them.<o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<p style="background: white; margin: 0in;"><span style="color: #010000;"><o:p><i> </i></o:p></span></p>
<p style="background: white; margin: 0in;"><span style="color: #010000;"><i>I, the Teacher,
when king over Israel in Jerusalem, applied my mind to seek and to search
out by wisdom all that is done under heaven; it is an unhappy business that God
has given to human beings to be busy with. I saw all the deeds that are
done under the sun; and see, all is vanity and a chasing after wind. What
is crooked cannot be made straight, and what is lacking cannot be counted. I
said to myself, “I have acquired great wisdom, surpassing all who were over
Jerusalem before me; and my mind has had great experience of wisdom and
knowledge.” And I applied my mind to know wisdom and to know madness and
folly. I perceived that this also is but a chasing after wind. For in much
wisdom is much vexation, and those who increase knowledge increase sorrow.<o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">To the reading of
the text, I add two more lines from elsewhere in the book. From chapter three, <i>“</i><span style="background: white; color: #010000;"><i>All go to one place; all are from the
dust, and all turn to dust again”</i> (3:20) and another verse from chapter 12,<i> “The
dust returns </i></span></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><i>to
the earth as it was, and the breath returns to God who gave it.</i>” (12:7)</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">Texts like that
remind me of a song, a song that hit the charts when I was eighteen years old.
The band that performed it had a hit, and they were coming to play a concert in
the hockey arena in Binghamton. I snared two tickets, one of them for a beautiful
young lass. I offered to pick her up in my parent’s Dodge. We would sit in
arena seats and listen to a band called Kansas. They would sing to us their
classic song, “All we are is dust in the wind.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">It’s a classic
rock ballad with a lyrical violin solo and haunting lyric:</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .3in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .3in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">I close my eyes. Only for a moment and the moment’s
gone.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .3in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">All my dreams pass before my eyes, a curiosity. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .3in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Dust in the wind. All they are is dust in the wind.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .3in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .3in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Same old song. Just a drop of water in an endless sea.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .3in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">All we do. Crumbles to the ground though we refuse to
see.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .3in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Dust in the wind. All we are is dust in the wind.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">What a strange
song for teenagers to swoon to. Back then, we believed we were made of rubber, able
to bounce forward as well as bounce back. If there was trouble, they were
certain they could get through it. If there was pain, the assumption was they
could remain unscathed. The future was wide open. Things were looking up.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Yet the rock and
roll arenas were filled with teens holding cigarette lighters in the air,
singing along with Kansas, “All we are is dust in the wind.” <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe they knew the truth, that life is
fragile. Sometimes there is a car crash on prom night. Everybody wakes up from
the illusion that life goes on forever, especially for those who push it to the
limit. The dream passes before our eyes.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Or you discover
you are not a big deal, not anymore, if you ever were. On the first day of the
100-level introductory course at the university, four hundred people are crammed
in the lecture hall. It is a far cry from the twenty-four in A.P science in
high school. The professor says, “If you can’t find a seat, don’t worry. In two
weeks, a third of your classmates will have dropped the course.” Here is the
truth: you are a drop of water in an endless sea.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The wise people
who put Ecclesiastes in the Bible did so for a reason. They know what we know,
that try as we might, we are not as important as we believe ourselves to be. Life
doesn’t always turn out as we hope. Things break, people break, plans are
scattered. If we live an honest and introspective life, we end up with more questions
than answers. So, the Preacher declares, “This is the way it is. I don’t want
you to be deceived.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">We don’t know much
about the so-called Preacher who composes this book. He claims to be wealthy.
He declares himself a worldly success. This anonymous writer describes himself as
King Solomon, who lived hundreds of years before him. The Preacher has the palace,
the pleasures, the riches, and the concubines.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Yet he doesn’t have
it all. He says, “I have wisdom.” And he says, “I don’t have wisdom.” That’s
the paradox. He can’t make sense of it all. Probably composing this meditation
at the end of his life, the Preacher faces clear limits on what he has done,
what he can still do, and what he can understand. He knows his life has an
expiration date. <span style="background: white; color: #010000;">“The dust returns
</span></span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-font-kerning: 0pt;">to
the earth as it was, and the breath returns to God who gave it.” (12:7)</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Or as we say in
church and synagogue, “Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Today, as the
first day of Lent collides with Valentine’s Day, many have chuckled at the weird
intersection. I sent out a picture in last week’s church e-mail, of ashes placed
on somebody’s forehead in the shape of a heart. Others have pointed out it’s
impossible to spell “valentine” without spelling “Lent” in the middle of the
word. And today, two of you sent me the same poem for these intersecting
holidays. It reads, “Roses are red / Ashes are grey / We’re all going to die /
Happy Valentine’s Day.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">That might be a
little too honest, yet this is the truth. There are limits to our lives. Whether
we perceive it or not, the eternal God puts a parenthesis before us and after
us. When our days conclude, there will be a dash between two dates. The
Preacher says, “A generation goes, a generation comes, the earth continues on.”
True enough.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The Gospel would
add one thing more. We are dust, yes. But we are God’s dust. We are breathed
alive by the same Spirit Set before the One who is the Alpha and the Omega, the
first and last, the beginning and the end, our days are remarkably short. Yet our
days are known. We are known.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Tonight, we come
with all our limitations, mortally aware of our finitude, and what we receive
is the mark of the cross. For we belong to God through the love of Jesus
Christ. Even if we know the hard truth that none of us will understand it all or
get everything done, we can trust the holy God that gathers us here, holds us
for a while, and embraces us forever. In life and death, we belong to God. That
is all we need to remember. And it is enough. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> (c) William G. Carter. All rights reserved.</o:p></span></p>presbybophttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17551073066437287094noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1154081749139966522.post-64416238861232769642024-02-10T22:15:00.004-05:002024-02-10T22:15:21.505-05:00Bright Jesus Mark 9:2-9 <br />Mardi Gras / Transfiguration<br />February 11, 2024<div>William G. Carter <br /><br />Six days later, Jesus took with him Peter and James and John, and led them up a high mountain apart, by themselves. And he was transfigured before them, and his clothes became dazzling white, such as no one on earth could bleach them. And there appeared to them Elijah with Moses, who were talking with Jesus. Then Peter said to Jesus, “Rabbi, it is good for us to be here; let us make three dwellings, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.” He did not know what to say, for they were terrified. Then a cloud overshadowed them, and from the cloud there came a voice, “This is my Son, the Beloved; listen to him!” Suddenly when they looked around, they saw no one with them any more, but only Jesus. As they were coming down the mountain, he ordered them to tell no one about what they had seen, until after the Son of Man had risen from the dead. <br /><br /><br />I’m in church, so it’s time to confess. I have been preaching the Gospel for thirty-nine years, yet I’ve never been able to wrangle this text. It is wild. It is unmanageable. It is so big that it cannot be reduced to a simple lesson. What should we do with it? <br /><br />Jesus climbs a high mountain with the three boys in his inner circle. At the top of the hill, he begins to shine. It was more than the glistening perspiration on his brow. Jesus lit up like a solar flare. Peter, James, and John froze with their eyes wide open. They never saw anything like that back in their hometown of Capernaum. <br /><br />They knew Jesus, walked with Jesus, ate with Jesus. Never seen him catch fire before! It was such a strange moment, the Gospel writers had to invent a word to describe it: “transfiguration.” Mark turns it into a verb, saying Jesus was transfigured, and never quite explaining what that means. Did he change into something else? Or, in the words of the poet Madeleine L’Engle, did they see him the way he was, the way he always was? Your guess is as good as mine. <br /><br />It's a moment when the distinction between past, present, and future collapses. Moses and Elijah appear suddenly. They had been gone for centuries, but here they were, completely alive. Matthew says they were “chatting” with Jesus. Moses, the greatest teacher of God’s Law, and Elijah, the greatest prophet in Israel’s memory speak with Jesus as if they were contemporaries. <br /><br />And then the moment is gone. It would not be captured or reduced. What we have here is an insight into the nature of spiritual experiences. The insight is this: they come and go. Peter, James, and John see something about Jesus. They hear the Big Voice. Everything is changed. Then it’s back to normal. Well, almost. It’s a new normal, a normal punctured by a heavenly intrusion. <br /><br />Do we have these experiences, you and me? Seeing Jesus burst into flame? Not likely. At least, not on the top of a mountain in Palestine. But what about a moment of insight? A flash of awareness? A sudden awakening? A burst of holiness? These moments can come. They probably do come – and we shrug them off. Sometimes they get through our defenses, though, and they change everything. <br /><br />In November, I was invited to a church meeting in Louisville, Kentucky. Since I had been elected the moderator of our local presbytery, somebody figured they should teach me how to moderate. It was a short conference. I have friends who would be there. I was glad to go. <br /><br />We gathered in the national office of the Presbyterians on the Ohio River. When the opening night reception was over, I decided to stretch my legs. The hotel was just a few blocks away. It was a warm night. So, I took a stroll around the city. There’s an enclosed street mall on South 4th Street, between Liberty Street and Muhammad Ali Boulevard. All the hipsters were hanging out at the Maker’s Mark lounge, the Grolsch microbrewery, and Guy Fieri’s Smokehouse. All those revelers were feeling no pain. <br /><br />Suddenly, in the midst of all that revelry, I saw it. It’s a street sign that I’ve seen before. On one side, it honors Thomas Merton, the well-published monk who lived in a monastery about an hour south of Louisville. He often went into the city for errands and medical appointments. Frequently, he slipped into a jazz club on Washington Street and enjoyed the music. Merton was a big jazz lover. One side of the sign pays him homage. <br /><br />It's the other side of the sign that knocks me out. It says, “A Revelation: Merton has a sudden insight at this corner March 18, 1856, that led him to redefine his monastic identity with greater involvement in social justice issues. He was “suddenly overwhelmed with the realization that I loved all these people…’ He found them ‘walking around shining like the sun.’” <br /><br />Another holy moment. He was in a city, not on a mountain. He didn’t see Jesus beaming bright, but for the moment, the people in front of him were “shining like the sun.” Merton knew he loved them as God loved them. Just as the friends who saw Jesus heard God say, “This is my Son, the Beloved.” It was love that set him and them ablaze. <br /><br />And what do we do with moments like these? For Merton, it signaled that prayer must be joined with action, all in the name of love. He took a stand for voting rights, protested wars that he believed were unjust, and worked to promote understanding between people of differing faiths. It was all about love embodied in shining glory. <br /><br />For Jesus, the transfiguration was a turning point in his story. It is the hinge upon which the door opens between his work in Galilee to make his way to the cross. Up north in Galilee, Jesus gave himself to healing, teaching, and casting out evil spirits. When he steps off the mountain, he will move toward Jerusalem. There he will give himself in the ultimate sacrifice to set people free from all that enslaves them. For God loved him – and God loved all people – and glory shines brightest in the work of self-giving love. <br /><br />According to the records that I can find, we have had an annual Mardi Gras service for a dozen years or so. Maybe to you it seems longer. Nobody resisted when I first suggested the idea. It’s a last gasp of joy before the hard work of Lent. It’s a nice break from the winter blahs. Truth be told, the Dixieland music is shaped a lot like our church hymns. In fact, it sounds like what would happen if the choir director had too much caffeine. <br /><br />I think it’s time that I confess why I cooked up the idea: because I had run out of ideas for talking about the Transfiguration. The event comes around every year on the church calendar. I didn’t know what to say about it. But after a dozen years in, it hangs together a good bit better than I thought it would. We are halfway between Christmas and Easter. The joy of the Nativity now moves toward Cross and Resurrection. <br /><br />All of it is glued together by this account of a spiritual experience. We didn’t dream it up. Just as we cannot create those moments when they come. Sometimes the Holy Spirit finds us. The lights go on. The glory shines. Something in our souls wakes up. In the ancient words of the psalms, “Steadfast love and faithfulness meet, righteousness and peace kiss one another” (Psalm 85:10). <br /><br />To make sense of all this, I turn again to Thomas Merton, the Trappist monk and jazz lover. Merton would understand that the Transfiguration of Jesus and our own spiritual experiences dwell together under a huge umbrella that he called “contemplation.” What did he mean by the word contemplation? Here’s what he wrote: <br /><br />(Contemplation is) life itself, fully awake, fully active, fully aware that it is alive. It is spiritual wonder. It is spontaneous awe at the sacredness of life, of being. It is gratitude for life, for awareness, and for being. It is a vivid realization of the fact that life and being in us proceed from an invisible, transcendent, and infinitely abundant Source. Contemplation is, above all, awareness of the reality of that Source.<a href="file:///C:/Users/presb/Dropbox/Sermons/2024%20Sermons/2024%20Sermons%20-%20Bright%20Jesus.doc#_ftn1">[1]</a> <br /><br />What’s he talking about? That God can sneak up on us in silence. Or God can dance with us in jazz. We are not abandoned or cast off. We are beloved, holy beloved. And that love calls us to wake up. To engage. To sink deeply in the work God gives us to do while we keep breathing and dancing. The invitation is for us to come alive, completely alive. <br /><br />And when the lights go on, even if only to flicker for a moment, there’s nothing in heaven or earth that can take that away, for it is a reminder the Holy One is with us, we are loved, and there is work to do.. <br /><br /> <br />(c) William G. Carter. All rights reserved.<br /> <br />-------------------------------</div><div><br /><a href="file:///C:/Users/presb/Dropbox/Sermons/2024%20Sermons/2024%20Sermons%20-%20Bright%20Jesus.doc#_ftnref1">[1]</a> Thomas Merton, New Seeds for Contemplation (New York: New Directions Publishing Corporation, 1971) pp. 1–2.<div style="mso-element: footnote-list;"><div id="ftn1" style="mso-element: footnote;">
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</div></div>presbybophttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17551073066437287094noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1154081749139966522.post-48077179351512466282024-02-03T23:11:00.004-05:002024-02-03T23:15:40.612-05:00 Won’t Stay in His LaneMark 1:40-45 <br />February 4, 2024<div>William G. Carter <br /><br />
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .2in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0in 0in 0.2in;"><span style="background: white; color: #010000; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">A leper came to him
begging him, and kneeling he said to him, “If you choose, you can make me
clean.” Moved with pity, Jesus stretched out his hand and touched him, and
said to him, “I do choose. Be made clean!” Immediately the leprosy left him,
and he was made clean. After sternly warning him he sent him away at once, saying
to him, “See that you say nothing to anyone; but go, show yourself to the
priest, and offer for your cleansing what Moses commanded, as a testimony to
them.” But he went out and began to proclaim it freely, and to spread the
word, so that Jesus could no longer go into a town openly, but stayed out in
the country; and people came to him from every quarter.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"></p></div><br />My friend’s name was Tony. We met on the school bus. I think it was second grade. The big yellow bus picked up me and my sister first. We bounced down about a quarter mile, then took the sharp left turn onto Bodle Hill Road. From there, it was a straight shot to our elementary school. <br /><br />Tony stood at the last stop before the school. We were the same age, same grade, same homeroom. There were differences. He was short and Italian. I grew too fast for my blue jeans and a Celt. Tony loved to play sports. I was usually the last to get picked for the kickball team. He was a Lutheran; one day, he was carrying a Bible to school and showed me the pictures between Old and New Testaments. I said I was a Presbyterian, and confessed we didn’t have a lot of pictures in our Bibles. <br /><br />The friendship continued for a while. There’s a snapshot of the two of us standing on the sidewalk outside my parent’s house. We were getting ready for our first Boy Scout camp out. Big grins on our faces, boots laced up, backpacks loaded with candy bars. The truck dropped us off at the edge of the forest. As we hiked in, my long legs carrying me faster than his, another Scout a few years older came alongside and said something just loud enough for me to hear. He said, “How come you’re bunking with that kid? Doesn’t the smell turn your stomach?” <br /><br />He didn’t say this to be mean. He was being descriptive. Tony’s body had a strong odor. Sometimes it was stronger than others. I had tried to ignore it because he was my friend. We liked the same baseball team. We got along easily. He was often at my side in Scout meetings, and sometimes took pity on me and picked me for his kickball team. <br /><br />That was the moment I realized that Tony stood by my side because nobody else ever stood by his side. It probably had to do with the odor. The odor came from a terrible rash that covered the back of his neck. I am no dermatologist and can’t tell you what it was. Yet it persisted. It was there for years. People stayed away from him. And at this point in my ministerial career, I would declare if Tony had lived in the first century, he would have been diagnosed with leprosy. <br /><br />Did you see the footnote at the bottom of the Bible page? “The terms leper and leprosy can refer to several diseases.” All of them were visible on the skin. Each was inexplicable, happening without prediction or cause. The effects were disfiguring. They held the threat of contagion. Neighbors were frightened. Families were separated, all because of an unknown disease. <br /><br />A thousand years before Jesus, Moses had laid down the law. If you are bored next week after the football season concludes, you can read all of that in the 13th and 14th chapters of Leviticus. We learn a lot of things: leprosy was a catch-all word for skin infections, ulcers, psoriasis, eczema, dermatitis, and what we now call “Hansen’s Disease.” Leviticus declares they are signs of impurity. You are considered unclean. You are cast out of the community, forced into isolation, and segregated to live with strangers with whom you have absolutely nothing in common except the same diagnosis. Leviticus also says, that in ancient days, the religious leaders were the gatekeepers for health or sickness. They alone could declare someone was getting well. Or they could say, “Go away, you smell.” “Go away, your appearance scares us.” Go away, we don’t want to catch what you have.” <br /><br />We don’t have to survey our recent past to see what the threat of contagion will do. We know the stories of loved ones separated from us by covid-19. These days, they might be banished to the guest room. Before the vaccines were created, they may have spent weeks in the hospital. And it’s only the latest of a litany of diseases through the ages. Each illness invades a human body, often unrelated to prior behavior. <br /><br />In prior days, it was presumed you got sick because you did something wrong, the same way some parents exhorted their kids to zip up their winter coats, so they didn’t catch a cold. I think of the old fable of Job, the tragic man who lost it all. In his misery, three friends descended on him to say, “What did you do wrong, to end up so low?” Or as the twelve disciples asked Jesus about a man born blind: did he sin or did his parents sin? What went wrong with him? <br /><br />But listen to what the man with leprosy says to Jesus: “If you will, you can make me clean.” He responds, “I will.” Not merely, “I can,” but “I will.” Because it is God’s will. God wants us to be healed, restored, purified, and uninvaded by disease. That is the holy will of God. Jesus comes to make known the will of God. Sometimes we call him “the Great Physician,” not only because he healed so many people in first-century Palestine, but because he is the patron of every physician, nurse, PA, psychologist, dietician, and dermatologist who works out rhe healing work of God. Wellness is God’s will. God doesn’t want us to be sick, much less separated by our sickness. <br /><br />But there are some curious details in the healing story for today, details that suggest even more about the will of God. Here’s one: Jesus isn’t very happy about the situation. There’s a variant manuscript, early in New Testament days, suggesting that he healed the man out of “anger,” not “compassion.” That’s also mentioned in the footnotes. “Anger” is a curious motivation for healing somebody. <br /><br />It gets clearer a verse or two later when Mark says, “he sternly warned” the man. That’s another moment where the English translation vastly softens what Mark is saying. No, it was harsher than a “stern warning.” Jesus was “boiling with indignation.” Why? <br /><br />The scholar Ched Myers reads the text closely. He finds a hint that the man with the disease already been to see the priest, that he has made the three-day trek from the outskirts of Capernaum to Jerusalem, that he tried to get an audience with one of the holy men, that he was refused and sent away. So here he is, denied the health care that his own scriptures promised, and all he can do in desperation is to throw himself at the feet of Jesus. Jesus sees all of this, and he “snorts with rage.” <br /><br />As Jesus heals the man, he judges a religious system that was spiritually bankrupt. The leaders professed to love God and love neighbor, but the truth is, they ignore God and push away neighbor. It’s as if, in the parlance of our own day, the religious establishment off and says, “You’re on your own, so handle your own medical care.” Something like having to wait three months after a heart attack to get a cardiologist appointment. <br /><br />Jesus will not let this stand. He heals the man with the disease and says, “Go back down there to Jerusalem, show yourself to that priest, and demand he restores you to complete fellowship.” Why? Jesus says, “Let this be your testimony to them.” OR to put it another way, let this be a testimony against them. <br /><br />A second detail: the man doesn’t go. Doesn’t feel he needs to go. Sure, Jesus is honoring the old rules in Leviticus 13 and 14, saying, “Show your body to the priest. Get your card punched. Get the official release.” Yet why does he need to be seen by a priest when he has been seen by Jesus. Jesus has made him well, and therefore clean. He has been restored. <br /><br />In effect, Jesus is far better than a cumbersome system of health care that has no regard for the sick. An unconcerned system sends the unhealthy back out to the waiting room to say, “Let us know if you’re feeling better.” By contrast, Jesus affirms the person is more valuable than any broken system. He makes it known there is no illness that separates the person from the love of God. <br /><br />And then, this third and most inflammatory detail: how does Jesus heal the man? By his powerful word, of course, and through his holy intention, “I will” – and also by his touch. He touches the man with the skin disease. He clasps him with his hands. He attaches himself to him. He risks catching what that guy had. He takes on systemic impurity to release a man from systemic impurity. <br /><br />Which is to say, he steps over the old rules of Leviticus:<br /><br />He steps over the invisible barrier between illness and wellness.<br />He steps over the wall between sterility and infection.<br />He steps over the fear that separates clean and unclean.<br />He steps over the distinction of religious hierarchy and neighborly care.<br />He steps over the division between religious rules and the power of God.<br />He steps over the breach between hopeless despair and the possibility of health.<br />He steps over the separation between isolation and connection. <br /><br />Which is to say, Jesus refuses to stay in his lane and merely be a nice preacher. Mark said this was going to happen. On the very first day, the sky was ripped open from the other side. God came down in power, like a dove that settled on Jesus, this Jesus, who works tirelessly to claim this world as God’s dominion. Some think God is staying up in heaven. Some believe God ought to stay up in heaven. Some think God is never coming down. But what do you do if you discover Jesus has really come – and God is here? <br /><br />You live. That’s what you do. You live as if God rules heaven and earth. Like my old friend Tony. He’s gone now. He slipped away two years ago from a long bout of cancer. That illness did not keep him from returning from high school reunions, where he was affirmed as the kindest person in our reunion class. I do not grieve but celebrate how a childhood illness cracked opened his own heart in compassion. Tony kept going to his Lutheran churches wherever he lived. He served as a youth group leader, and a volunteer visitor to men in prison. He trained as a Stephen Minister to visit the sick and troubled of the congregations to which he belonged. <br /><br />Obviously, he kept reading that Bible that he sneaked onto the school bus and looked at more than the pictures. His faith completed him as a human being. And he lived that chapter where it is written that nothing shall separate from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord. Nothing, not illness, not persecution, not anything at all. <br /><br />Such is the will of the God who, in the fullest sense, wants us to be well. Thanks be to Christ, who reaches out to us. <br /><br /><br />(c) William G. Carter. All rights reserved.presbybophttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17551073066437287094noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1154081749139966522.post-22554855440767889902024-01-27T22:39:00.001-05:002024-01-27T22:42:15.732-05:00Tempted By SuccessMark 1:29-39 <br />January 28, 2024<div>4th Epiphany<br /><div>William G. Carter<br /><br /><i>As soon as they left the synagogue, they entered the house of Simon and Andrew, with James and John. Now Simon’s mother-in-law was in bed with a fever, and they told him about her at once. He came and took her by the hand and lifted her up. Then the fever left her, and she began to serve them.<br /><br />That evening, at sundown, they brought to him all who were sick or possessed with demons. And the whole city was gathered around the door. And he cured many who were sick with various diseases, and cast out many demons; and he would not permit the demons to speak, because they knew him. <br /><br />In the morning, while it was still very dark, he got up and went out to a deserted place, and there he prayed. And Simon and his companions hunted for him. When they found him, they said to him, “Everyone is searching for you.” He answered, “Let us go on to the neighboring towns, so that I may proclaim the message there also; for that is what I came out to do.” And he went throughout Galilee, proclaiming the message in their synagogues and casting out demons. <br /></i><br /> <br />There’s a woman who said, “I think it would be good to get away for a while.” It had been a busy stretch: the holidays and their exhausting routines, demands of family, expectations at work. A few friends who were going through troubles of their own. So, she did what a lot of people do when life closes in: she contacted the travel agent. Picture that big poster of the teal water, the white sandy beach, the bright orange sun. It is a long way from here. That is a significant part of the appeal.<br /><br />For those who can afford it, and for some who cannot, there is nothing like a getaway. <br /><br />As some of you know, I once belonged to a study group with a dozen other preachers. It disbanded in 2020, two months before the pandemic hit. If that group had kept going, we would have been in a beach town in Florida, just about the time Pennsylvania temperatures dropped down to five degrees. This year, a couple of us were reminiscing through text messages: “It’s Sunday, we would have been in the karaoke joint beneath the palm trees.” “It’s Tuesday, time for breakfast on the pier.” “It is Thursday. Wish we were getting crepes and eggs.” <br /><br />To quote the late poet Jimmy Buffett, the “change in latitudes” really did create “changes in attitudes.” <br /><br />There’s nothing new about it. Sixty-five years ago, Frank Sinatra was crooning an old song by Matt Dennis:<br /><br /><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;">Let's take a boat to Bermuda<br /> Let's take a plane to Saint Paul.<br /> Let's take a kayak to Quincy or Nyack,<br /> Let's get away from it all.</blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><br />Let's take a trip in a trailer<br /> No need to come back at all.<br /> Let's take a powder to Boston for chowder,<br /> Let's get away from it all.<a href="file:///C:/Users/presb/Dropbox/Sermons/2024%20Sermons/2024%20Sermons%20-%20Tempted%20By%20Success.doc#_ftn1">[1]</a></blockquote><br />The Gospel of Mark tells us that Jesus got away from it all. The story we heard today is one of three specific occasions that are worthy of mention in this Gospel. The third occasion was in the Garden of Gethsemane, as Jesus wrestled with the demands of the cross. The second occasion was immediately after feeding five thousand people in a place near Capernaum. Then there’s the occasion, which occurs after a very full day of work.<br /><br />Jesus has been preaching and teaching and driving out the demons. He is so successful that anybody with any problems takes notice. As the Sabbath day concludes, they swarm around him, asking for help. He heals as many as he can, working late into the night. The next morning, he gets up before dawn, and he gets away from it all.<br /><br />Most of us know how that is. You don’t have to be a healer like Jesus to feel some of that pressure. Maybe you are a mom, the kids always want something from you, including that big baby you’re married to who has a head cold. Or maybe you’re in business, the reports are due, the boss is insistent, and the whole machine will not let up on its demands. Or maybe you are sandwiched between grown kids and aging parents, and you’re feeling squeezed by needs and expectations.<br /><br />Or maybe you are just plain tired. I don’t know if you realized that is a spiritual diagnosis, but it is. There’s a New Testament church that got a letter, the “Letter to the Hebrews.” The writer says, “Lift your drooping hands, strengthen your weak knees, and make straight paths for your feet.” It sounds that church is tired, so tired that some of them are skipping out of worship.<a href="file:///C:/Users/presb/Dropbox/Sermons/2024%20Sermons/2024%20Sermons%20-%20Tempted%20By%20Success.doc#_ftn2">[2]</a> Imagine that.<br /><br />In the story we’ve heard today, it sounds like we have a glimpse of the human side of Jesus: he’s tired, he’s worn out, he’s taking some time for prayer. As somebody describes the scene,<br /><br /><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;">Jesus knew that he needed help. He knew that he could not live in this world without God. If he was forever going to be giving out, he must sometimes be taking in. If he was going to spend himself for others, he must spend time spiritually refreshing himself. Jesus knew that it was not humanly possible to accomplish all that he needed to accomplish every day of his life in his own strength alone. He also knew that he didn't have to. Not when the all-powerful, all-knowing, all-wise God, his loving Father was ever present, ready to provide, whatever he needed, whenever he needed it, however he needed it. All he had to do was ask. The Bible says we have not because we ask not. If we ask, we will receive.<a href="file:///C:/Users/presb/Dropbox/Sermons/2024%20Sermons/2024%20Sermons%20-%20Tempted%20By%20Success.doc#_ftn3">[3]</a></blockquote><br />I think that preacher is on to something. That is why this scene from Jesus’ life is more than an escape. It is more substantial than a quick trip away. <br /><br />Did you ever notice that a vacation can be exhausting? It takes a lot of work to get away from our work. Some of us struggle to know how to relax. For others, it is difficult to sit and be quiet, and for others, they go on their getaway and take everything with them: all the noise, all the commotion, all the music, all the clothing, all the stuff. They pack all their burdens in their suitcases and drag them along. (I’m the only one who does this, right?) Sometimes we need to take a vacation after we return from the vacation. <br /><br />All our activity can wear us out, unless we learn how to be still, and to receive. This is a primary spiritual practice: hushing before God, praying to God, receiving from God. It is simple, really. You just have to do it. And you do not have to go away far. As Jesus will teach us, “Whenever you pray, go into your room and shut the door and pray to your Father who is in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you.”<a href="file:///C:/Users/presb/Dropbox/Sermons/2024%20Sermons/2024%20Sermons%20-%20Tempted%20By%20Success.doc#_ftn4">[4]</a> Go to the secret place, the quiet place, the deserted place - - and pray. In a noise-drenched, fast-paced, achievement-oriented, commotion-filled world, there is no better advice.<br /><br />But there is something else about this story that is helpful to remember. Do you remember how Mark describes the location where Jesus goes? He calls it “a deserted place.” The word in Greek is <b>heramos</b>, which is translated “deserted place,” “lonely place,” “wilderness,” or “desert.” According to the text, Jesus has been there before. John the Baptist was preaching in the <b>heramos</b>. Jesus went to hear him in the <b>heramos</b>. After Jesus was baptized by John, the Holy Spirit threw him into the <b>heramos</b>. And out there, in the <b>heramos</b>, he dealt with big decisions about what God wanted him to do. The Tempter tried to steer him away from necessary things.<br /><br />So, after a busy day, after working late into the night, where does Jesus go when he gets up in the morning? Into the <b>heramos</b>. Because when the sun comes up, he will be tested. In fact, which is exactly what happens. The Voice of temptation comes in the voice of Simon Peter: “Hey, where have you been? Everybody is looking for you!” Do you hear that? “Hey Jesus, last night you really wowed them – everybody is hunting for you!” In that moment, there was no greater temptation for Jesus than to listen to the voice of popularity.<br /><br />After a night like that, if he were to stay in Capernaum, he could settle down and enjoy the adoration of his neighbors. Everybody could start thinking of him as the local Medicine Man. He could heal the physicians, teach the rabbis, and put the funeral directors out of business. That sounds tempting. Everybody could like you. You wouldn’t have to spread the Word and start a movement; you could simply stay where everybody liked you.<br /><br />Simon Peter hunts for Jesus and says, “Hey, you really impressed them. Everybody is hunting for you.” And that’s why Jesus gives his unusual reply: “Let’s get moving then. There are a lot of places where I need to preach and heal.” He has discerned the work of God is not about winning popularity contests. It is about getting on with the challenges God has set before him. He worked that through in the heramos.<br /><br />It strikes me that this kind of prayerful clarity is rare. He goes to a quiet place, and his prayer is for a purpose. It is not merely for spiritual refreshment, but for guidance and direction. It’s not merely filling the tank but steering the car. “God, why am I here?” Not merely asking what others expect of me or reflecting on what I want to do. It’s asking: What does God put before me today?<div><br />In 1939, the theologian Dietrich Bonhoeffer slipped out of his home country of Germany. Storm clouds were forming. Hitler was amassing an army and planning a war. Bonhoeffer had academic friends in New York. They said, “Come here and teach. Escape the insanity. You have been here before; you know it’s safe.” So, he went. He was a pacifist. He had no time for Hitler’s goose-stepping soldiers or antisemitic hatred. <br /><br />Yet after a brief getaway in Manhattan, something did not seem right. There was an international catastrophe forming at home. He was retreating from it, even for the best of reasons. As he wrote to one of his colleagues, <br /><br /><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;">I have made a mistake in coming to America. I must live through this difficult period of our national history with the Christian people of Germany. I have no right to participate in the reconstruction of Christian life in Germany after the war if I do not share the trials of this time with my people.<a href="file:///C:/Users/presb/Dropbox/Sermons/2024%20Sermons/2024%20Sermons%20-%20Tempted%20By%20Success.doc#_ftn5">[5]</a></blockquote><br />His mind resolute, he returned home and quietly engaged in the struggle that he knew he needed to do.<br /><br />I am reminded of how the way of Jesus runs counter to so many messages of our time. When the world pushes a getaway on us, they encourage us to run three steps ahead of responsibility, or to spend a lot of money, or to drink more Margaritas than we really need. We turn on the football games, eat our chicken wings, and are tempted to forget how many people go hungry in our rich nation. That is what our getaway culture wants us to avoid. Avoid reality.<br /><br />Yet the discipleship way is a different way. We can enjoy a good football game or save for a fun vacation, but we are always called upon to love God and neighbor 24-7. And nowhere in the Bible does it declare that we can put our affluence at the expense of other people’s well-being. Jesus came preaching, “This is God’s world. The dominion of God is right here.” And he worked tirelessly to make the world a healthier, safer, and holier place. <br /><br />“Let’s get moving again,” he says to Simon and the others, “for that is what I have come to do.” <br /><br />So, the Gospel text today calls us in two complimentary directions: be still and get to work. Listen to God and care for others. Pray in such a way that our souls are replenished and engage the pain of the neighborhood. It is both-and, a rhythm of spiritual depth and social justice. In the name of Jesus, they belong together. <br /><br />There is a balance between what we do and what we refrain from doing. Hard work invites us to rest our bodies and tend our souls. Prayerful silence clarifies our purpose and reanimates our efforts. The spiritual life is an engaged life, rooted in God and directed toward others.<br /><br />So, take advantage of our prayer time today. Lean back into the arms of a God who offers to restore our souls. Listen for the whispers of grace, and trust God will equip you for every challenge. And after you say Amen, open your eyes and look around. We are called to serve a world of need. That is why God granted that moment of prayer and rest. And when you get right to the heart of it, selfless service to others is the reason we are here. <br /><br /> <br />(c) William G. Carter. All rights reserved.<br /><div style="mso-element: footnote-list;">
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“Let’s Get Away from It All,” Matt Dennis and Tom Adair<o:p></o:p></p>
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Hebrews 12:12-13. See also Hebrews 10:25.<o:p></o:p></p>
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Cynthia Hale, “Early Morning Rendezvous,” <a href="http://www.csec.org/csec/sermon/hale_4420.htm">http://www.csec.org/csec/sermon/hale_4420.htm</a>
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Matthew 6:6<o:p></o:p></p>
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<p class="MsoFootnoteText"><a href="file:///C:/Users/presb/Dropbox/Sermons/2024%20Sermons/2024%20Sermons%20-%20Tempted%20By%20Success.doc#_ftnref5" name="_ftn5" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn5;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">[5]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></span></a> Letter
to Reinhold Niebuhr, quoted in Eberhard Bethge, <i>Dietrich Bonhoeffer: Man of
Vision, Man of Courage</i> (New York: Harper & Row, Publishers, 1970) 559.<o:p></o:p></p>
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</div></div></div></div>presbybophttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17551073066437287094noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1154081749139966522.post-2263025156948114172024-01-20T23:26:00.002-05:002024-01-20T23:26:41.783-05:00Not As the ScribesMark 1:21-28 <br />Epiphany 3 <br />January 21, 2024 <br />William G. Carter<br />
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="background: white; color: #010000; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">They went to Capernaum; and when the sabbath came, he entered
the synagogue and taught. They were astounded at his teaching, for he
taught them as one having authority, and not as the scribes. Just then
there was in their synagogue a man with an unclean spirit, and he cried
out, “What have you to do with us, Jesus of Nazareth? Have you come to destroy
us? I know who you are, the Holy One of God.” But Jesus rebuked him,
saying, “Be silent, and come out of him!” And the unclean spirit,
convulsing him and crying with a loud voice, came out of him. They were
all amazed, and they kept on asking one another, “What is this? A new
teaching—with authority! He commands even the unclean spirits, and they obey
him.” At once his fame began to spread throughout the surrounding region
of Galilee.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">Years ago, when I
was on vacation, I visited a church without telling anybody who I was. It is my
habit to worship whether I’m working or not, so I slipped in the back and sat
down. After a brief prayer to prepare my heart, I opened my eyes and looked
around. I observed activities that I never see when I am upfront.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">Some slipped in
late, others slipped out early. Some paid attention, a teenager spent the hour
tapping his phone, and one of the choir members took a nap. A note was passed,
a few words whispered. Candy was unwrapped, cough drops were shared. The organist
began a hymn at a sprightly tempo, the congregation did their best to slow her
down. I do have to say the preacher started with a lot of energy, but twenty
minutes later, he was running on fumes. It was quite the education.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">So, when I hear
today’s account of a worship service in the seaside village of Capernaum, I can’t
help but wonder what everybody noticed. It was the first time Mark tells us
that Jesus spoke in public. He has been baptized. He’s been tested. He snatched
two fishermen out of their boat, and two more after that. When the weekend
comes, he stepped into the village synagogue.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">Every eye was on
him, as he stepped up to the podium. He was in holy space. It was the Sabbath,
holy time. Although Mark does not mention it, no doubt Jesus opened the ancient
scroll to the text for the day, put it into the air, and then sat in the
teacher’s seat. Everybody leaned forward, and he was good. Really good. The
audience began to nod in agreement. They were awakened by his insight. Somebody
said, “He didn’t download that sermon from the internet.” Another said, “Yes,
isn’t it refreshing that he’s not reading us a book report on Leviticus?” Not like
the scribes!</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">No, the lesson was
fresh. The speaker was energized. Since he was new, no doubt he spoke his
signature sermon, that God’s kingdom has come close, that God is the rightful
ruler over all things, that God rules over our hearts, our minds, our lives, our
community, our world. Just then, someone over here stood and started to scream
at him. Jesus raised his voice. The man tried to out-shout him. “I know who you
are, Jesus of Nazareth. What have you come to do? Have you come to destroy us?”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Suddenly, that
pleasant sermon, with all its power and authority, was interrupted. And I am
wondering what the people there were thinking, what they were feeling. Has this
happened before? Was this man subject to temper tantrums? Was he unstable? Did
something set him off? Had something gotten into him? That’s how they would
have diagnosed him in the first century: “he had an unclean spirit.” Something
got into him. What was it? They didn’t wonder about it. They just knew. Something
possessed him. For the moment, maybe longer, it held the rest of them hostage.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">It can happen. It
does happen. Maybe there is a person who gets too big for their britches, and
the rest of the congregation allows it to happen. Power is lodged unofficially
in someone accustomed to calling the shots. Then the new preacher comes to town
and there is a showdown. It can happen.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">It happened not
far from here. The new preacher came, got the lay of the land, peeked into all
the locked closets, mapped out the territory. Then, one Sunday, she stood to
say, “There’s no way we will ever balance our budget by selling Welsh cookies.”
It got very quiet. Then the murmurs ensued. Threats were uttered. Ultimatums were
made. A line was drawn in the sand. The preacher stuck to her guns. The
treasurer quit, in a most public display of anger. The murmurs got louder. The
preacher moved on. The Sunday after she left, the treasurer came back and was
re-elected. Cookies were sold again. And it came to pass that the church ran
out of money, shut down operations, and sold the building. Nobody thanked the preacher
for telling the truth.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">There are unseen
forces that can infect any of us, especially when we are a group or a community.
Mark calls it “an unclean spirit.” Please understand that is a first century
diagnosis. And it is a little spooky: the man with the unclean spirit knows the
preacher’s name. “I know who you are, Jesus of Nazareth.” Who told him that? And
he perceives a deep threat: “Have you come out to destroy us?” Who’s the “us”? The
empire of demons? The congregation? The status quo? All three, probably. It is often
easy to identify the troublemaker. It is a lot harder to identify those who are
enabling the situation, saying nothing, or putting up with the trouble or quietly
acquiescing to the way things have always been.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">In our day, one of
the most sinister evils is the spirit of addiction. Starts with pleasure,
enjoyment, a little lift to get us through the day. It is not illegal. I have
the freedom to decide for myself. Don’t get on my case. I know when to stop. On
it goes. Then energy is redirected. Money is reappropriated. A new refrigerator
is bought just for the beer. The bourbon’s hidden in the laundry basket.
Denials cover up lies. There are irrational outbursts. I can stop tomorrow. And
it’s not a “thing.” It’s a spirit. It’s invisible. It takes over. It feeds on
its own obsession until somebody has the courage to say stop. They will be confronted
by the words, “Have you come out to destroy us?”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Get a sense of
what happened in the synagogue of Capernaum? It sounds pleasant when the
preacher declares, “God rules over everything and everybody.” Yet when the
light goes on, and it really is “everything and everybody,” we should expect
some opposition. This forms the plot to the Gospel of Mark. Jesus is the Strong
Man of God. He comes to make a constructive difference in the world – and the
world strikes back. Jesus keeps going and is met with resistance. Mark wants us
to know that, if you announce the love and power of God, somebody will push
back and say no.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">It reminds me of an
unusual tale in the eighth chapter of this book. The people in a village bring
a beggar who cannot see. Jesus lays hands on him to heal his sight, then asks, “Can
you see anything?” The man says, “I see people. At least I think they are
people. They look like trees walking.” So, Jesus must try again. Only then can
the man see. (Mark 8:22-26).</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Why does he have
to give him a double-whammy of a healing? Because all the illnesses of this
world are deeply entrenched: not just blindness of every variety, but poverty, hunger,
homelessness, trauma, mental illness, abuse, violence, and our addiction to self-destruction.
Jesus comes to tackle them all, for he came preaching, “This is God’s beloved
world. You are God’s beloved people. God has come to rule over everything and everybody.”
Even after the powers of evil conspired to put Jesus on the cross, he came
back. And he is still busy.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Mark is the Gospel
of God’s Mission. When Jesus is raised from the dead, the angel tells the
women, “You will see him back in Galilee.” Where does Galilee begin? In the
synagogue in Capernaum, as he commands an evil presence to be muzzled, and throws
him out of that community. The congregation responds, “What is this? A new
teaching?” Yes. They – and we – are being instructed that God wants this world
to be well. God wants all the broken people mended. God wants all the broken
systems dismantled and rebuilt. And our mission is to join Christ in his
mission.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Now, there’s no assurance
this will be easy. The work requires persistence, patience, and prayer. Like
the year after some of our teenagers went off to fix homes in a
poverty-stricken area. The first year, they went to a mountain hollow. They
rebuilt porches, replaced rooftops, dug drainage ditches, cleaned up garbage,
and made new friends. When they returned after a week, they said, “We are
tired, but it’s a good tired.” We smiled and nodded.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">So, when the prospect
came of returning the next summer to the same region, they shouted, “Yes! Let’s
do it.” They couldn’t wait to return and see what they had done the previous
year. Alas, when the vans rolled back into town, some of those porches were
broken again, the same rooftops needed repair, the ditches were clogged, and
garbage was blowing down the road.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">One of the kids
said, “I don’t want to come back here again. In fact, I’m not sure I want to do
this anymore.” We understand the sentiment, don’t we? But I think we can also
understand the need, the ongoing need. And Jesus Christ comes into Galilee to
address the need. He keeps working. And he calls us to follow him and join in
the work. We cannot fix the world by waving our hands and offering a plastic
prayer. Nor should we be enticed to believe that, since we have healed one
person, now the work is done.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">On the first day
that Mark reports, Jesus goes into the holy space of worship. It is the holy
day of Sabbath. He speaks the holy word, that God rules over all things – and he
is resisted by someone who asks, “Have you come to destroy us?” What is the
answer? Jesus comes to muzzle evil, to keep it from speaking and propagating.
He comes to throw out whatever destructive force oppresses that poor soul and
scares the congregation. He comes to heal, not destroy. To restore, not to ignore.
To lift up, not trample down. To love through speech and action. To make a constructive
difference, to the glory of God who comes to rule over all.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">This will not
happen easily or quickly, for him or for us. The Gospel of Mark knows this.
This is the world that God has made, and this is the world that pushes God
away. We are creatures made in God’s image, too often twisted in upon
ourselves. No matter how much we resist our own well-being, Jesus comes to make
us well. All of us, and all things. That is God’s will for the world</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Do you know why
this is? Because Jesus is the Holy One of God. He comes in the power of the
kingdom, a power described so well by the Harlem poet Zora Neale Hurston. She put
it this way, “Love makes your soul crawl out from its hiding place.” It is the
love of Christ that calls all things into God’s healing, restoring light. It is
the love of Christ for you. For all.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p>(c) William G. Carter. All rights reserved.</o:p></span></p>presbybophttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17551073066437287094noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1154081749139966522.post-7139079453783692312024-01-13T22:35:00.001-05:002024-01-13T22:35:13.637-05:00By Hook or By Net<p>Mark 1:16-20 <br />January 14, 2024 <br />Epiphany 2 <br />William G. Carter<br /><br /><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">Now
after John was arrested, Jesus came to Galilee, proclaiming the good news of
God, and saying, “The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near;
repent, and believe in the good news.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">As
Jesus passed along the Sea of Galilee, he saw Simon and his brother Andrew
casting a net into the sea—for they were fishermen. And Jesus said to them,
“Follow me and I will make you fish for people.” And immediately they left
their nets and followed him. As he went a little farther, he saw James son of
Zebedee and his brother John, who were in their boat mending the nets. Immediately
he called them; and they left their father Zebedee in the boat with the hired
men, and followed him.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="background: white; color: #010000; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #010000; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">This is recruiting season for a lot of colleges. Some of our high
school graduates are signing up for the schools that they will attend next
fall. If your family has ever been part of that process, you know there is some
negotiating that goes on. How much do they want you? What kind of scholarship money
are they going to offer? How many A.P. credits can you take with you? What else
will sweeten the deal?</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #010000; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="background: white; color: #010000; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">I have a friend in Georgia. Her son just decided to sign on
to play football at a small college in South Carolina. They are knocking down
tuition by $25,000 a year. And they gave him a free t-shirt. I think he should
have held out for a coffee mug too, but he seemed happy with the deal.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="background: white; color: #010000; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">This is also a recruiting season for a lot of churches. Not
merely for members – a congregation like ours is always looking for members - but
for leaders. Once we get through Christmas, our Nominating Team begins its
search for elders and deacons. I will not admit to any kinds of deals that they
will offer, although we do give away free cups of coffee. No mugs, but coffee.
And the search begins today. The team will find the best leaders they can find.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="background: white; color: #010000; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">When we hear the familiar Gospel story of Jesus selecting the
first members of his team, we tend to classify it as that kind of experience.
That he’s going along the north shore of the Sea of Galilee on a recruiting tour.
He is looking for his disciples. He starts with Simon and Andres, then James
and John, and says, “Come and follow me.” Then with a delightful little word play,
he says to the fishermen, “From now on, you will be fishing for people.” In his
breathless fashion, Mark says they dropped everything. Immediately they
followed him.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="background: white; color: #010000; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Most of us wonder why there isn’t more to the story. They
dropped everything? Went immediately? Didn’t they ask where he was headed? What
he was going to do? Was this a career change or just a temporary modification?
Were they traveling far? Could they return to sleep in their own beds, at least
some of the time? A couple of paragraphs later, we learn Simon had a
mother-in-law, so he must have had a wife. Could he bring her along? What if
they had kids? None of these questions are ever answered.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="background: white; color: #010000; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Along the way, I recall a couple of teachers who attempted to
fill in the gaps. One of them said, “It was the sound of his voice. When Jesus made
his offer, all four of them knew this was too good a situation to pass up. Of
course, they left immediately.” Even James and John left old man Zebedee to
finish counting the fish and mending the nets.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="background: white; color: #010000; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Another teacher told us, “It was the twinkle in his eye. Jesus
was full of light, life, and joy. They responded as any of us would. Wouldn’t
you?” Well, we would like to think so. Except Mark tells us none of this. Jesus
doesn’t say anything about the benefits of following him, heavenly or
otherwise. He never sweetens the deal because he never makes a deal. And it is
too early in the story for him to warn those four of potential dangers. “Follow
me,” he says. And they go.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="background: white; color: #010000; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">We can speculate about this all we want, but Mark has already
told us what he wants us to know. It was in the account from last week. God
ripped open the sky. The protective dome above our heads has been breached. The
Spirit came down and landed on Jesus. He began to preach, “Time is up. It’s
time for God rule over everything. Stop what you were doing and make the
change.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="background: white; color: #010000; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">We can’t overestimate the significance of what this means. God
has come. God is here. That closed system of “same old, same old” has been
invaded by holiness. If illness is sweeping like a pestilence across the land,
God doesn’t want that. Jesus will heal, not by waving his hands with some blanket
magic spell, but by taking folks seriously one at a time. It is long work, hard
work, important work. And it breaks the news that God is here.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="background: white; color: #010000; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Or those who talk in tight circles, surrounding themselves
with people who agree with them, never challenged to look deeper or love wider,
Jesus comes preaching a God who is not confined to our opinions. God didn’t
stay up in heaven, where it was safe for him and boring for us. God came down.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="background: white; color: #010000; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Think of it this way,” he said. “God’s dominion is like a
little bitty seed. It grows mysteriously. Somehow he becomes the biggest of all
the bushes.” (He doesn’t say oak trees, but scrub bushes.) And I’ll bet he was
smiling at Simon, Andrew, James, and John when he said it. His words blew open
all expectations, because his words didn’t originate from the north shore of
the Sea of Galilee. They came down low from somewhere a good bit higher.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="background: white; color: #010000; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">It's a new day, he said. The rightful Ruler is back in
charge. The world will be reminded that it is cherished. Hard-working fishermen
are God’s Beloved. The poor are God’s royalty. It’s time to say it. It’s time
to show it. “Come, follow me.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="background: white; color: #010000; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">From what I can tell, this was the plot of God’s Gospel. Mark
does not say much more. He shows us. In chapter one, Jesus is off like a rocket.
Going here, going there, hardly taking a breath or stopping for a sandwich.
There is work to do. There are words to speak. And if you want to see who he
is, if you want to learn what God cares about, get in step, and follow wherever
he goes.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="background: white; color: #010000; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">It is striking how direct all of this is. Over the years, the
church has tried to reduce the Gospel to a sales plan. Three easy steps to
salvation, four spiritual laws, a sinner’s prayer to mimic, and then the Circus
Tent where the traveling evangelist makes the pitch. There’s none of this in
the Gospel of Mark; Jesus is too busy. He’s too busy loving and healing and
feeding and confronting and forgiving, to say nothing of shouting at terrible
wind storms to knock it off.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="background: white; color: #010000; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Instead of reducing the kingdom of God to a marketing plan
with carrot-on-the-stick benefits, the world would be better off if we would go
with Jesus where he goes, join him in doing what he does, and learn to care
about the people and situations that he cares about. Because that is his demand
– Follow me! It is not an invitation. It’s a requirement.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="background: white; color: #010000; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">I used to think it was an invitation. Soft music, hum all
eighty-five verses of “Just As I Am,” the buses will wait, counselors are
standing by, please welcome Jesus into your heart. Then I read the text again:
Follow me! He is yelling, not pleading. He’s insisting, not suggesting. This is
the Gospel of Mark. Jesus never whispers in the Gospel of Mark. He lays out the
moment and requires a decision on where he has taken you and what he has shown
you.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="background: white; color: #010000; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">And it is all rooted in that vision from the day of his
baptism: the heavens are torn; God comes upon Jesus and all that is beloved of
heaven. Time to recognize that God rules over all. Not sometime later, but today.
Not back in the golden days, but mysteriously right here, right now. There is
no need to put it off until another day. Right now.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="background: white; color: #010000; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The signs are all around us. There is a man I know, an hour
from here. This may be his last day on the planet. A few months ago, when they
told him it was stage four cancer, he was quiet for a little while. Then he
said, “Let’s take it on.” They did, but the illness progressed. So, he was
quiet again, then decided to sell his truck and give the money to his grandchildren
toward their college debts.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="background: white; color: #010000; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">His family gathered again and again, and every time they
came, he told them he loved them. They asked, “Daddy, is there anything we can
do for you?” He said, “Take me to church on Christmas Eve. I want to praise our
savior before I meet him.” And they did. Why wait? Even in his last days, he is
following Jesus. Testifying to something that the powers of death cannot take
away.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="background: white; color: #010000; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Or there’s that young student. She’s really something. Raised
in privilege, good grades, good looks, never challenged to stretch far because
everything came easily. Then she went with friends to join a high school club, only
to discover that her neighborhood had strangers, and the next town over was
taking in refugees from a far-off land. At the time, she heard some horrific
comments on television about immigrants. It did not jibe with her experience.
Something didn’t seem right.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="background: white; color: #010000; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">She dug in, met more of the strangers, befriended them, stood
up for them, ate with them. While in high school, she asked her church if she
could invite over a hundred or so new friends from Africa for a Thanksgiving
feast. And why not? Her career ambition: to become an immigration attorney to
advocate for the newcomers who have no other home. All because she heard some
hate speech and decided, “This isn’t right.” And God got through to her.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="background: white; color: #010000; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">If we start following Jesus, there is no assurance it will be
easy. Or that everything will unfold according to our plans. Or even that the
way will be clear. Many times, it isn’t. Yet the one promise Jesus makes is
that we will be changed. “Follow me,” he says, “and I will make you fish for
people.” Note: he is not asking our permission. He’s not saying, “If you
follow, I’ll put fish in your net, and you can sell them and make a lot of
money.” Rather, he declares we will be transformed, specifically for the sake
of other people.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="background: white; color: #010000; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">That is the centrifugal power of the Gospel. Jesus is in the
Center. As we orbit around him, we are compelled outward toward others. The Christian
communities that flourish are those that keep Jesus in the center and extend
themselves to others outside. Those that dwindle often are concerned only with
themselves – bake sales to keep the lights on, chains across the parking lot to
keep the teenagers out, and somebody barking, “Hey, you’re sitting in my pew.” No,
no, no – it is about others. It’s always about others. This is one of the
fundamental changes that comes by following Jesus. He was always focused on
others, which is why God sent him to us.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="background: white; color: #010000; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Follow me,” he says, “and I will make you fish for <u>other</u>
people.” With this declaration, the mission is underway. As far as anybody can
tell, it is not over. It’s never over. This sermon is hereby over, yet the
mission of God goes on.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="background: white; color: #010000; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="background: white; color: #010000; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p>(c) William G. Carter. All rights reserved.</o:p></span></p>presbybophttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17551073066437287094noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1154081749139966522.post-70029549534105151772024-01-06T22:30:00.000-05:002024-01-06T22:30:03.393-05:00Thrown into the WildernessMark 1:9-15 <br />January 7, 2023 <br />Baptism of the Lord <br />William G. Carter<br /><br />In those days Jesus came from Nazareth of Galilee and was baptized by John in the Jordan. And just as he was coming up out of the water, he saw the heavens torn apart and the Spirit descending like a dove on him. And a voice came from heaven, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.” And the Spirit immediately drove him out into the wilderness. He was in the wilderness forty days, tempted by Satan; and he was with the wild beasts; and the angels waited on him. <br /><br />Now after John was arrested, Jesus came to Galilee, proclaiming the good news of God, and saying, “The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe in the good news.” <br /><br /> <br />I hope you didn’t blink during the reading of the text. A lot happens in seven short verses. Jesus walks eighty miles to the Jordan River, John baptizes Jesus, God reveals the identity of Jesus, the Spirit descends upon him, Satan tempts him, angels wait on him, John is arrested, and Jesus begins to preach. <br /><br />In breathless fashion, Mark introduces the Main Character of his story. In seven verses, we make a round trip from Galilee to the Jordan River, and back to the province of Galilee, and we go by way of forty days in the wilderness. When Jesus arrives home, he begins to preach, “God’s dominion is at hand.” <br /><br />That's the Good News of the Gospel of Mark, announced on page 1. The signs of God's presence are inescapable. The sky is ripped open, presumably by somebody on the other side. The Spirit swoops down. The Voice that spoke the world into being begins to speak to Jesus: "You are my Son, the Beloved." No doubt about it: God has broken in. <br /><br />Don Juel was a New Testament scholar. He wrote a lot of books on the Gospel of Mark, so someone thought he might be qualified to lead a Bible study with Junior High kids. He told them to open their Bibles to the first chapter of Mark, and they read this story. Dr. Juel began to tell those sleepy-eyed students how this passage can help us understand prayer. "The heavens have been parted," he said, "and so whenever we say something to God, God will hear us." <br /><br />Suddenly a young student who had said a word throughout the class, began to challenge him. “That's not what the passage means,” he said. “It isn't that we have access to God, it's that God has access to us. The protection is gone. God is here among us, on the loose.” <br /><br />Dr. Juel said, "The moment the words were out of his mouth, I knew he was right - - and something invaded my imagination that has reshaped my experience of Mark’s Gospel, the Christian message, God, and the world. A curtain has been torn, never to be repaired. I find myself dangerously vulnerable to the presence of God<a href="file:///C:/Users/presb/Dropbox/Sermons/2024%20Sermons/2024%20Sermons%20-%20Thrown%20Into%20the%20Wild.doc#_ftn1">[1]</a> <br /><br />God is at hand. Advent is over, so I don't have to say, "God is on the way." And the Christmas decorations are coming down, so I cannot point to the Christ candle and merely say, "Jesus has been born." The Gospel of Mark wants us to see something else. The sky had been ripped open. It has not been stitched back together. The dome between heaven and earth has been breached. <br /><br />We often hear this Bible story in the season of Lent, especially if we hear the variations that come in the books of Matthew or Luke. In those books, Jesus encounters three representative temptations. Use your power for your own self-interest, turn stones into bread. Win over the crowds by having the angels catch you when you swan dive from the tower of the temple. Kneel before the Accuser so you can gain the power and glory without going through the suffering on the cross. Those are sinister temptations. They come at the point of his strength. You see, temptation does not merely attack us at a point of weakness. If you or I had the power to turn stones to bread, we’d be tempted to use that power for ourselves. <br /><br />But Mark has something else to tell us. There’s something else he wants us to see. Mark sees the power of God slicing through the clouds and falling like a dove on Jesus. Like a dove, not a hawk. It is real power, legitimate power, heavenly power – and it comes down here to make a difference. And if that Holy Spirit Dove power has come to make a difference, it is going to run up against some opposition. That’s what Mark wants us to see. <br /><br />This will be one of the great themes of Mark’s book. The power of God has come upon Jesus – and there’s another player on the field. Call it “Satan,” call it “evil,” call it “hardened privilege,” call it “the status quo,” call it “the way things are always done around here,” call it whatever you want – Jesus comes to make a transformative difference for the Kingdom of God, so he’s going to get some pushback. As we move through Mark’s book this winter, this summer, and through the fall, we’re going to see that again and again. <br /><br />To use Mark’s language, “the Strong Man of God has come to plunder the house of evil,”<a href="file:///C:/Users/presb/Dropbox/Sermons/2024%20Sermons/2024%20Sermons%20-%20Thrown%20Into%20the%20Wild.doc#_ftn2">[2]</a> and the house of evil isn’t going to like it. Not one bit. And all of this is announced today, as the sky is ripped open from the other side, the Voice says, “You’re my Beloved,” and the Holy Spirit Power descended like a dove – and hurls Jesus into the wilderness. <br /><br />That’s the verb Mark uses: the Spirit hurls him, throws him, propels him. It is an intentional word, an aggressive word. In fact, that is the same verb for those occasions later in the Gospel story when Jesus “casts out” the demonic powers that harm human life. There is a good bit of force in that verb. The Spirit casts him into the wilderness and he is tested. <br /><br />I’ve often wondered about this. Is this like the internship where the boss throws the young hotshot into a tangled situation and says, “Let’s see what you are made of.” Could be, don’t know. God says, “You’re my Son. You please me.” And what now? Will we throw him into the deep end and see if he can swim? Mark says there were wild beasts there. <br /><br />When my older daughter was little, I took her to a wildlife preserve in Florida where she met her first alligator. It was feeding time. She looked at the big teeth. That snapper was fierce. We were impressed. In the noon sun at Sanibel Island, we stood a hundred feet away and took our safe photos. We could do that behind a fence, at high noon, on dry ground. I wouldn’t be interested in meeting that gator in a warm pool at midnight. <br /> <br />Why would the Spirit, God’s Own Spirit, throw Jesus into a treacherous situation? The land around the lower part of the Jordan River is barren and dry. There’s no food. Precious little drinking water. It’s near the lowest altitude on the planet. People would wander out there and get lost. Or worse. <br /> <br />In September 1969, the Most Rev. James Pike, former Episcopal bishop of California rented a car from Bethlehem of Judea and drove south of Jericho toward that wilderness. The road was washed out, so he and his wife had to turn around. The tires got stuck in a rut. They didn’t know what to do. They thought they knew way back to Jericho, so they started to climb the canyon walls. <br /> <br />Soon Bishop Pike fell exhausted. His wife Diana found some shade for him, declaring, “I’m getting us some help.” Fourteen hours later, she stumbled out of the desert, got some help, and led them back to her vehicle. But alas, her husband had wandered off. After three days of 100-degree heat, the search was called off. Somebody found his body two days after that.<a href="file:///C:/Users/presb/Dropbox/Sermons/2024%20Sermons/2024%20Sermons%20-%20Thrown%20Into%20the%20Wild.doc#_ftn3">[3]</a> There was evidence he had grown delirious and confused. Cast into the wilderness, and the wilderness won. <br /><br /><div>What does Mark want us to see when he says, “The Spirit of God cast Jesus into the wilderness”? Forty days is a long time to ramble around a place like that, especially if there are wild beasts out there, to say nothing of Satan. Certainly, Mark wants us to take stock of the angels. He says there were angels out there, taking care of him. It’s the only time angels appear in his book.<a href="file:///C:/Users/presb/Dropbox/Sermons/2024%20Sermons/2024%20Sermons%20-%20Thrown%20Into%20the%20Wild.doc#_ftn4">[4]</a> <br /> <br />We are to see that Jesus had heavenly help, especially under such dire circumstances. Since heaven has been ripped open, the angels could come freely at the direction of God. They could help Jesus. Mark wants to know that, too. There is a cosmic battle going on, good against evil. Jesus has been thrown into it and has been provided the support he needed. If you’re going up against Satan and the wild beasts, and the Holy Spirit has come upon you like a gentle dove, you may need to backup. <br /> <br />But here’s what I believe Mark also wants us to see: the baptism is only the beginning. When somebody is baptized, they are not finished. They are only beginning a journey. The message at the baptism of Jesus is an analogy of God’s message at our baptisms, namely, we are God’s Beloved children. God’s good pleasure, his grace, is sufficient to claim us as his own. But we still have a way to go. A long way. <br /> <br />The baptized life is a life of continuing formation. Let’s not forget that. The Holy Spirit calls us to keep working out the implications of God’s hand on our lives. For Jesus, it was quite dramatic. Forty days in the desert. Seeking clarity to discern a temptation and avoid it. Asking for strength when thrown into a wilderness situation. Imagine – and it should not be hard – being stuck in a snowstorm for days and nights, with no power. After a few days, you would discover what you’re made of. And you also might discover where your help is coming from. <br /> <br />So, welcome to a year with the Gospel of Mark. Jesus goes immediately here, and immediately there, all the time casting out demons and preaching that everything belongs to God. Those who encountered him found him to be both comforting and disruptive, which is the way the Gospel works. God ripped open the sky and has come in Jesus of Nazareth. The tired old status quo has broken. It’s time for everything to change. <br /> <br />And God’s good story goes on.
<div><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><br clear="all" />
<hr align="left" size="1" width="33%" />(c) William G. Carter. All rights reserved.<br />
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<div id="ftn1">
<p class="MsoFootnoteText" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><a href="file:///C:/Users/presb/Dropbox/Sermons/2024%20Sermons/2024%20Sermons%20-%20Thrown%20Into%20the%20Wild.doc#_ftnref1" name="_ftn1" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;">[1]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></span></a><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;"> Donald H. Juel, “Your Word is
Truth: Some Reflections on a Hard Saying, Princeton Seminary Bulletin XVII/1 (February
1996) 20-22.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
</div>
<div id="ftn2">
<p class="MsoFootnoteText" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><a href="file:///C:/Users/presb/Dropbox/Sermons/2024%20Sermons/2024%20Sermons%20-%20Thrown%20Into%20the%20Wild.doc#_ftnref2" name="_ftn2" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;">[2]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></span></a><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;"> From the enigmatic parable of Mark
3:27.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
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<div id="ftn3">
<p class="MsoFootnoteText" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><a href="file:///C:/Users/presb/Dropbox/Sermons/2024%20Sermons/2024%20Sermons%20-%20Thrown%20Into%20the%20Wild.doc#_ftnref3" name="_ftn3" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;">[3]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></span></a><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;"> The sad story is told online at <a href="https://www.itsgila.com/headlinersbishoppike.htm">https://www.itsgila.com/headlinersbishoppike.htm</a>
</span><o:p></o:p></p>
</div>
</div><p><a href="file:///C:/Users/presb/Dropbox/Sermons/2024%20Sermons/2024%20Sermons%20-%20Thrown%20Into%20the%20Wild.doc#_ftnref4" name="_ftn4" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;">[4]</span></span></span></span></a><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> Angels are mentioned a few times
in Mark’s Gospel. This is the only time they appear.</span> </p></div>presbybophttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17551073066437287094noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1154081749139966522.post-61702473237285205932023-12-30T22:13:00.001-05:002023-12-30T22:18:02.530-05:00When Consolation Finds UsWhen Consolation Finds Us<br />Luke 2:25-35<br />Christmas 1<br />December 31, 2023 <br />William G. Carter<br /><br /> The Christmas Story does not begin with shepherds in the fields and a baby in a manger. The Christmas Story begins in the temple.<br /><br /> This is a Jewish story, so it begins with characters right out of the Jewish Bible. There is a priest, a prophet, an old woman, and an old man. The priest is Zechariah, who serves in the temple. He represents the worship life of Israel, the atonement sacrifices, the holy days, and the singing of the Psalms. The prophet is a woman named Anna. Like the prophets of Israel, Anna speaks when the Spirit falls upon her. The old woman is Elizabeth, who is Zechariah’s wife. Luke says she is barren, unable to bear a child, until like Old Sarah, God gives her a future.<br /><br /> And then there is Simeon. He has a small but important part in the Christmas pageant. Listen to his story:<br /> <br /><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;">Now there was a man in Jerusalem whose name was Simeon; this man was righteous and devout, looking forward to the consolation of Israel, and the Holy Spirit rested on him. It had been revealed to him by the Holy Spirit that he would not see death before he had seen the Lord’s Messiah. Guided by the Spirit, Simeon came into the temple; and when the parents brought in the child Jesus, to do for him what was customary under the law, Simeon took him in his arms and praised God, saying,</blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><br />“Master, now you are dismissing your servant in peace, according to your word; for my eyes have seen your salvation, 31which you have prepared in the presence of all peoples, a light for revelation to the Gentiles and for glory to your people Israel.”</blockquote><br /><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;">And the child’s father and mother were amazed at what was being said about him. Then Simeon blessed them and said to his mother Mary, “This child is destined for the falling and the rising of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be opposed so that the inner thoughts of many will be revealed - and a sword will pierce your own soul too.”</blockquote><br /> Luke goes to great lengths to remind us that Christmas does not happen out of the blue. Christmas comes out of the faith of Israel. Simeon was an old man with an ancient religion. He kept the faith, offered the prayers, and clung to his hopes. He was an exemplary believer, deemed righteous and devout. Every time somebody opened the temple door, there he was.<br /><br /> We know people like that. No need to mention any names, but we know who they are. Every spiritual community has such people. They attend every worship service and sing every hymn. They go to Bible studies and offer their talents. They give generously and pray fervently. They make sure the lights are turned on, and worship services stay on schedule, and tables are set up for the next potluck dinner. They call me at home to say, “Someone left the doors unlocked.” We know these people. Some of us are these people. <br /><br /> Simeon stands among them. He hopes, believes and shows up – yet he has never been allowed to see if any of it is actually true. He has always been a believer. He trusts God made a people and given them instructions on how to live. Simeon believes in the covenant, the commandments, and the call to show concern for the poor and needy. <br /><br /> Yet he is still looking for something. Luke calls it “consolation.” Another translation calls it “the comforting.”<a href="file:///C:/Users/presb/Dropbox/Sermons/2023%20Sermons/2023%20Sermon%20-%20When%20Consolation%20Finds%20Us.doc#_ftn1">[1]</a> And what is this consolation, this comfort? Simply this: that everything he’s heard will turn out to be true. There is a God who will make good on his promises.<br /><br /> I remember the small news item from September 2006. Three Jewish rabbis were ordained. I remember because that didn’t seem like a big deal. Rabbis get ordained all the time, right? Except happened in Germany, the first ordination since the Gestapo shut down the rabbinical schools in 1942.<a href="file:///C:/Users/presb/Dropbox/Sermons/2023%20Sermons/2023%20Sermon%20-%20When%20Consolation%20Finds%20Us.doc#_ftn2">[2]</a> 200,000 German Jews were among the six million people who were killed during the Holocaust. Their leaders were the best educated and most progressive in the world. Hitler stopped all that; and sixty-four years later, God started it up again.<br /><br /> Somebody interviewed an old man who spent four years hiding beneath a staircase in the 1940’s. He said, “I never thought we would see new rabbis in my lifetime. I was tempted to give up on God.”<br /><br /> How do anyone keep faith for sixty-four years of deprivation – or much longer? I think of Simeon all those years ago. In his day, there was no Hitler, but there was a King Herod. In the middle of Herod’s rule, along came the Romans. Historically speaking, his faith was live in a compromised environment. He breathed in a politically charged atmosphere. Yet Simeon kept going to the temple, studying the scripture, and praying for “consolation.” <br /><br /> Most of the Bible is a prayer for consolation. Ever notice that? There were very few periods in the Bible books that were settled or peaceful. Faith survives in the middle of turmoil. Hundreds of years before, Luke’s favorite prophet, the prophet Isaiah, cried out, “Comfort, comfort, my people. Say to Israel that her warfare is over, that she is done paying for her sins.” Those are wonderful words, so beautifully set to music in Handel’s Messiah. By the time Simeon came along, those words had been in the air for hundreds of years with precious little comfort.<br /><br /> All of this begs the question for us, namely: when will our consolation find us? When will the comfort come? If we keep going to church, year after year, will we see pay-off? If we keep praying while life gets shaken, when will our prayers be answered? Where is the assurance that the Temple where we’ve worshiped will continue to be a beacon for the community? That the future will unfold according to God’s grace? When will we gain the assurance that the very things that we want to believe really are true? <br /><br /> Simeon’s story points us to two complimentary answers. The first is the presence of the Holy Spirit. No surprise there. Luke is always talking about the Holy Spirit. Nine times in the Christmas story, including three times in today’s story, we hear about the Holy Spirit. The Holy Spirit is what prompted Mary to sing to God. The Holy Spirit offered messages to Zechariah and Elizabeth. The Holy Spirit whispers to Simeon, “Hang in there; you’re going to see the very thing you are hoping for.”<br /><br /> Think of it this way: the Holy Spirit is just enough of the presence of God that you want even more of the presence of God. The Holy Spirit is what creates a spiritual hunger inside every one of us. The Holy Spirit is what brought all of us back to church after all the candles are extinguished. <br /><br /> Have you ever thought of God that way? That God can create within us a hunger for something deeper? Not necessarily something more – here in the suburbs, we’re tempted to think it’s always about something more – no, not something more, something deeper. Our lives can have such a deeper purpose, a deeper grounding, a deeper confidence. The hunger for these spiritual riches comes from God. When God gets inside us somewhere – that’s the Holy Spirit. It’s the Spirit that pushes Simeon into the temple, and it’s the Spirit that whispers to him, “You’re going to see what I have promised that you’ll see.”<br /><br /> And then he sees the real consolation: Simeon sees Jesus. That’s the second answer. Simeon wobbles right up to the young couple with the bundle in their arms. He croaks out, “Let me see his face.” He pulls back that little blue blanket, sees a little tiny baby, and he looks into the eyes of the One through whom all things were made. The Holy Spirit fills him once again, and Simeon starts to sing: <br /><br /><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;">Master, now you are dismissing your servant in peace, according to your word;<br />for my eyes have seen your salvation,<br />which you have prepared in the presence of all peoples,<br /> a light for revelation to the Gentiles and for glory to your people Israel.</blockquote><br /> Let’s call this the “take me home” moment. It’s that rare moment when we see something so special, something so beautiful and amazing, that God could take us home right then and there.<br /><br /> One of my friends is a Catholic priest. The day he was ordained, people were shaking his hand. Suddenly he saw a nun that he’d known ever since he was a wild child in parochial school. She was tiny, barely came up to his waist, but she stretched up and wrapped her hands on his face, and said, “Tommy, I’m so proud of you that I could die right now” Or to put it another, “Take me home, Lord, it doesn’t get any better than this!” <br /><br /> Simeon looked into the eyes of little Jesus, and he knew his whole life had prepared him for this moment. He knew that, even though this weary old world is in a mess most of the time, everything is going to turn out OK. He knew “the hopes and fears of all the years” would be most deeply met in this one, little Child. And he also knew that this little Savior would save us all, but only after going through a battle of his own.<br /><br /> “Mary, your son will expose people for what they are,” said Simeon, “and some will oppose him, and it will pierce your soul.” Welcome to the world that you made, little Jesus. It’s a world where the crèche is never far from the cross. Yet in crèche and cross, God shows us how far he will go to save the world. He will give himself to a people who reject him, that even in the means of his ultimate rejection they might be saved.<br /><br /> The writer Philip Yancey has this to say:<br /><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><br />In the birth stories of Luke and Matthew, only one person seems to grasp the mysterious nature of what God has set in motion: the old man Simeon, who recognized the baby as the Messiah, instinctively understood that conflict would surely follow… Somehow Simeon senses that though on the surface little had changed – the autocrat Herod still ruled, Roman troops were still stringing up patriots, Jerusalem still overflowed with beggars – underneath everything had changed. A new force had arrived to undermine the world’s powers.<a href="file:///C:/Users/presb/Dropbox/Sermons/2023%20Sermons/2023%20Sermon%20-%20When%20Consolation%20Finds%20Us.doc#_ftn3">[3]</a></blockquote><br /> This Christmas, I don’t know what you were looking for, or if you were even looking for anything. It could be that you are content with all the hustle, bustle, and noise. Or you simply tried to get through it all as quickly and inexpensively as possible. Or you enjoyed the lights and decorations, but the rest of it only in small doses.<br /><br /> But there really is something very important at the heart of this holiday. Call it a Holy Spirit Hunch. That little baby boy in Jerusalem started something. He keeps sending his Holy Spirit and we find ourselves hungry for something more than tinsel and artificial light. His Spirit pushes us to stand in places that we would not have noticed the truth if we had not been pushed. <br /><br /> The Holy Spirit that opened Simeon’s eyes and loosened his tongue is the same Spirit that compels us to look more deeply and sing more boldly. And the same Spirit comes to give us a glimpse of Jesus, to show us the world is held securely in his wounded hands. Whether we are ready to depart the world or ready to dig in, his saving work continues. It will be a light for revelation, a glory for his people. And this is our consolation. <br /><br /><br />(c) William G. Carter. All rights reserved.<br /> <div style="mso-element: footnote-list;">
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<p class="MsoFootnoteText"><a href="file:///C:/Users/presb/Dropbox/Sermons/2023%20Sermons/2023%20Sermon%20-%20When%20Consolation%20Finds%20Us.doc#_ftnref1" name="_ftn1" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn1;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-size: 9pt;"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 9pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">[1]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></span></span></a><span style="font-size: 9pt;"> according to Young’s Literal Translation<o:p></o:p></span></p>
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<p class="MsoFootnoteText"><a href="file:///C:/Users/presb/Dropbox/Sermons/2023%20Sermons/2023%20Sermon%20-%20When%20Consolation%20Finds%20Us.doc#_ftnref2" name="_ftn2" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn2;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-size: 9pt;"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 9pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">[2]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></span></span></a><span style="font-size: 9pt;"> From Yahoo News, 14 September 2006.</span><o:p></o:p></p>
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<p class="MsoFootnoteText"><a href="file:///C:/Users/presb/Dropbox/Sermons/2023%20Sermons/2023%20Sermon%20-%20When%20Consolation%20Finds%20Us.doc#_ftnref3" name="_ftn3" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn3;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-size: 9pt;"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 9pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">[3]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></span></span></a><span style="font-size: 9pt;"> Quoted in “The Visited Planet,” <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Watch for the Light</i>, pp. 260-1.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
</div>
</div>presbybophttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17551073066437287094noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1154081749139966522.post-31651116860934024942023-12-24T16:32:00.000-05:002023-12-24T16:32:03.200-05:00Made VisibleMade Visible <br />John 1:1-18 <br />Christmas Eve <br />December 24, 2023 <br /><br />This is the best night of the year. It is an amazing evening, with all that it awakens within us. The pervasive darkness is pierced by a thousand lights. The beauty of this sanctuary counters the fierceness of the weather. The music we make bubbles with joy. And then there’s that X Factor. Call it “community,” “friendship,” or “homecoming” – whatever it is, it is captured in that New Testament word “koinonia,” which simply means we are here together. <br /><br />What inspires our celebration is the announcement of a baby’s birth. In the words of the prophet, “A child has been born for us; a son is given to us.” This birth sparks everything. A brand-new child can do that. I think of a dozen different fathers I have known, shaken to the core when a child is first placed into their arms. One spoke for all when he blurted out, “I didn’t know I could love anybody so much as when I first saw my baby.” <br /><br />No doubt Mary and Joseph melted when Jesus arrived. During that pregnancy, so much was demanded of them: nutrition, good health, protection, emotional stability, and a whole lot of waiting. To make matters worse, a foreign emperor’s decree had inconvenienced the family. The young couple had to travel ninety miles from Nazareth to Bethlehem, walking on foot for four or five days. When they arrived at Joseph’s ancestral home, there was no place to stay. The child was born in a borrowed room. With no available cradle, his mother placed him in a feeding trough. It was a challenging situation. <br /><br />Despite it all, there was delight, joy, and deep gratitude - because every birth is a miracle. Not just that birth, but every birth. When a child comes to us, it prompts a hallelujah. It’s big news, the best news. “Unto us a child is born!” That is true every time a baby comes. <br /><br />Yet in the Christmas birth there’s something else afoot. Mary, Joseph, and those around them wouldn’t know the full importance of Jesus’ birth for another thirty years. It will take even longer for people to wrap their brains around what happened. Ninety years after Christmas, the Gospel of John put it in the ancient poem that I have just read. Here is what he says: the Child born in Bethlehem is the sign that God is in love with the world. <br /><br />Now, John tells us this because it is not obvious. Walk outside on a clear December night. The stars twinkle. The frigid air is bracing. See your breath, then trace a meteor as it falls across the night sky. It is a stunning sight, reminding you how small you are. You are alive to see it, even though that meteor’s been traveling a lot longer than you or I have been taking breaths. <br /><br />The view is stunning. The sky is overwhelming. But there’s no evidence of love. Physics, yes. Mystery, to be sure. You can assume it had to originate from somewhere, that it didn’t happen by accident. But you don’t know how, where, or Who. You don’t know why. And the ancient poet declares, “In the beginning, there was a Word, a breath, a logic and intention.” Everything emerges from that Word that none of us ever heard. <br /><br />The Poet tells us that same Word, breath, logic, and intention created life. Life ignited light, and light and life pervade all things. The Light sings joy into the universe. It fuels wisdom and intelligence. Light keeps shining, regardless of the darkness that attempts to snuff it out. Where does all of this come from? The Poet says, “God.” God is the Source. But what do we know about God? What kind of God is out there? We can never be sure… <br /><br />… until the Child Jesus is born, until he grows up and matures, until that Mysterious Word speaks in him. Then things begin to happen. Broken people get mended. Hungry souls are fed. Injustices are untangled. Truth fractures all the lies. Grace cancels violence. The darkness cannot handle this. It conspires to silence him. Yet Jesus comes back. The light shines. Life abounds. He is with us. He is still here. <br /><br />Those awakened by Jesus have always been the keepers of Christmas. They look upon this night to see a birth, and they see more than a birth. They recognize Christmas as the beginning of a rescue. It is a salvage operation, a mission from heaven to earth. The world has always seen glimpses that the God unseen by human eyes is up to something. The coming of Jesus makes it clear. God is deeply in love with the entire world. That’s why the angels are rejoicing. That is why we are singing. God so loved the world that God gave us Jesus. <br /><br />One of my greatest memories of this church family is a night when we went into New York City. We heard Dave Brubeck, the renowned jazz pianist, was performing his Christmas cantata at Fifth Avenue Presbyterian Church. Enough of us were interested to fill a bus. But then the 9-11 attack happened. Everything was shaken, but we still wanted to go. <br /><br />One of our church friends was a commercial pilot who lost colleagues in the attack. He told us that before he became a pilot, he had worked as a firefighter in Hell’s Kitchen. Members of his hose company were killed when the first tower fell. So, we wondered out loud: how could we show the survivors some love? How could we make that journey to the city redemptive? <br /><br />It turns out that Brubeck’s Christmas music set the context for our day-long pilgrimage. It was a major production: big choir, jazz ensemble, and a mariachi band. Next the end of the performance, he put the Christmas message in 5/4 time. The words go like this: <br /><br /> God’s love made visible, incomprehensible! Christ is invincible! His love shall reign. <br /> From love so bountiful, blessings uncountable. Make death surmountable. <br /> His love shall reign! (c. Derry Music)<br /><br />God’s love made visible. That is the point of Christmas. The Invisible God reveals how much this world is loved. It is a Word announced, not just to us, but to everyone. It’s a Word – the Word - not merely for those we know, but for strangers, too. Jesus has been sent into this world. He began to save us by loving us. When darkness conspired against him, he came back. Then he sent his Very Presence, his Breathing Spirit to us so that we would continue to show God’s love and make it visible. <br /><br />We are loved. Every last one of us. That is truth and grace. It is light and life. It is God’s love enfleshed in Jesus. As we carried seventy-five homemade pies to the 9-11 first responders, we broke into song, “We Wish You a Merry Christmas.” We sang to them, and they sang to us. That’s the way love flows, from heaven to earth, from Jesus through us. <br /><br />There wasn’t a dry eye in that fire station. Just peace, joy, and a whole lot of love. And that’s what God intended from the beginning. <br /><br /> (c) William G. Carter. All rights reserved. <br /><br /> presbybophttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17551073066437287094noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1154081749139966522.post-28056776073809085892023-12-16T22:55:00.000-05:002023-12-16T22:55:00.372-05:00Not Me, It's Him<p>John 1:6-8, 19-28 <br />Advent 3 <br />December 17, 2023 <br />William G. Carter<br /><br /><span style="background-color: white; color: #010000; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">There was a man sent from God, whose name was John. He came as a
witness to testify to the light, so that all might believe through him. He
himself was not the light, but he came to testify to the light.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="background: white; color: #010000; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">This is the testimony given by John when the Jews sent priests and
Levites from Jerusalem to ask him, “Who are you?” He confessed and did not
deny it, but confessed, “I am not the Messiah.” And they asked him, “What
then? Are you Elijah?” He said, “I am not.” “Are you the prophet?” He answered,
“No.” Then they said to him, “Who are you? Let us have an answer for those
who sent us. What do you say about yourself?” He said, “I am the voice of
one crying out in the wilderness, ‘Make straight the way of the Lord,’” as the
prophet Isaiah said. Now they had been sent from the Pharisees. They
asked him, “Why then are you baptizing if you are neither the Messiah, nor
Elijah, nor the prophet?” John answered them, “I baptize with water. Among
you stands one whom you do not know, the one who is coming after me; I am
not worthy to untie the thong of his sandal.” This took place in Bethany
across the Jordan where John was baptizing.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">One of my favorite holiday greeting cards
features a photograph of a burly character dressed in ragged clothing. His
unruly hair is out to here. His countenance is fierce. There is a snarl on his
face. Beneath is the caption in bold letters: Happy Advent, You Brood of
Vipers.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">It is John the Baptist, of course. He is a
recurring figure in our December preparations for Christmas. While we plan to
burn the yule log, he declares, “The fire is coming for us all.” If we sing “Deck
the Halls” as we put of the Christmas tree, John shouts, “Already there is an
axe at the root of that tree.” And if we have spent considerable time
developing a wish list, we hear John say, “Whoever has two coats must share
with the person who has none.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">John bears the mantle of moral advisor and religious
truth teller. And he comes back every year. Church folks who want a holly,
jolly Christmas have generally learned to avoid him. Those who don’t go to
church anymore don’t miss him. If the general public knows anything about John,
they dismiss him as a precursor of Ebenezer Scrooge. He shows up one Sunday
morning a year, maybe two. For a lot of people, that is just enough.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Yet the Bible is fascinated with John the
Baptist. The Gospels tell us he showed up in the wilderness, the symbolic place
where Israel had been tested. John spoke of hope and dressed in memory. The
dominion of God is coming, contrary to the cruelty of the Roman empire. That
was the hope. He wore animal skins and lived on the periphery, just like the ancient
seers. That was the memory. And in John, two grand traditions of Jewish faith were
united. His father was a priest, and he was a prophet. He was both the insider
and the outsider, rolled into one.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">And the crowds went to see him. All the accounts
agree on that. People left bread in the oven, shops unattended, to go and see
the spectacle. They left their villages. They left their cities. As we heard
this morning, they even left their temple. We know it had to be a big deal because
priests and Levites, who made their living within organized religion, went out
to the river to see what was going on. They went to John and said, “Who are
you?” Who indeed.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The first century historian Josephus confirms
all of this. Writing around 95 AD, he said the memories about John the Baptist
were strong. “John was a pious man,” he writes, “bidding the Jews to practice
virtue and exercise righteousness toward each other and piety toward God.” He
wrote this sixty-years after John’s death.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">And if you remember the story of John’s brutal
death, how Herod Agrippa had him beheaded after he had been called out for his
sins, you will understand the popular tradition that arose after his demise. As
Josephus wrote, “The Jews believe that the destruction that overtook (Herod’s)
army came as a punishment for Herod, God wishing to do him harm.”<a href="file:///C:/Users/presb/Dropbox/Sermons/2023%20Sermons/2023%20Sermons%20-%20Not%20Me%20Its%20Him.doc#_ftn1" name="_ftnref1" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn1;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-font-kerning: 1.0pt;">[1]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></span></a> Herod
assassinated John; God demolished Herod’s army. That was the well-told
rationale sixty-five years later.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">John was a significant figure. So much so that
Jesus once said, “Truly I tell you, among those born of women, no one has
arisen greater that John the Baptist.”<a href="file:///C:/Users/presb/Dropbox/Sermons/2023%20Sermons/2023%20Sermons%20-%20Not%20Me%20Its%20Him.doc#_ftn2" name="_ftnref2" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn2;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-font-kerning: 1.0pt;">[2]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></span></a> He
was a big deal, a hero, a first-century celebrity. No one like him.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">So, the Temple establishment in Jerusalem sent
out an investigative team to ask, “Who are you?” Well, he’s John. “Yes, but who
are you? What’s your deal?” And he said, “I’m not the Messiah.” If you think he
is the Messiah, it’s not him.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">They asked again, “Who are you? Are you Elijah?”
That was a loaded question, too. Elijah was the greatest of Israel’s prophets.
He never died. He was swept up into heaven by a chariot of fire. The last book
of the Jewish scriptures, the sermons of the prophet Malachi, suggested Elijah
would come again before the great and terrible day of the Lord. “Are you Elijah?”
they asked. John replied, “I am not.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">So, they tried again. “Who are you? Are you the
prophet?” Which prophet? Know what they were referring to? Well, in the final
speeches of Moses, in the 18<sup>th</sup> chapter of Deuteronomy, Moses
predicted the coming of a great prophet. He or she will speak with the power
and authority of the Lord. They said, “Are you that prophet?” John said, “No
way. Not me. You have the wrong guy.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Well then, who are you? To which John replied, “I
am a Bible verse.” Say what? “Yes, Isaiah, chapter 40, verse 3. I am the voice
of one crying out in the wilderness, make straight the way of the Lord. That’s
me. Get rid of the speed bumps. Fill in the potholes. Make the road smooth so
that God can get to you. I am not the Word; I am simply a voice. Not the voice,
but a voice.” And they still do not understand. He is not Messiah, Elijah, or
the great unnamed prophet. He is only a mouth, attached to a guy who splashes a
lot of water.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">It is worth asking why the Gospel of John tells
the story this way. This is one of John the Baptist’s big scenes in the Fourth
Gospel and then he is dismissed. And from what we can tell, this was a
necessary distinction that the Gospel writer believed that he had to make. John
the Baptist is not the One we are waiting for.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Did you know that over twenty years after this
episode, long after Jesus went into heaven, the apostle Paul went to the big
city of Ephesus. A major city of the Empire. And when he arrived, he found some
believers who worshiped the work of John the Baptist. They were imitating his message,
declaring “The Messiah is coming; repent and be baptized.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The apostle Paul said, “Whoa, Nelly! Hang on. Why
are you saying the Messiah is coming?” They said, “We follow John, and John
said the Messiah is coming.” To which Paul said, “Got news for you. He is
already here.”<a href="file:///C:/Users/presb/Dropbox/Sermons/2023%20Sermons/2023%20Sermons%20-%20Not%20Me%20Its%20Him.doc#_ftn3" name="_ftnref3" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn3;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-font-kerning: 1.0pt;">[3]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></span></a>
He is? Is the Messiah already here? This is a matter of some dispute.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Did you know there is still a small sect of
believers called the Mandeans? There are about a hundred thousand of the
Mandeans around the world, many in the fertile crescent living in Iraq and Iran.
They believe John the Baptist was the final and ultimate prophet of God, and
that all life is divided between light and darkness. John points to the light,
they believe, and they undergo repeated baptisms to purge their sin and prepare
for the Messiah.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">It could be the gospel of John knew about groups
like these. So, he makes the distinction and puts the message on John’s lips: “I’m
not the one. I’m not the Messiah. I’m merely the voice.” We can be sympathetic,
I think, because there is always enough misery in the world to tempt us to believe
the Messiah has not come. Read the news, see the horrors and the distortions
every day, and faith has real challenges.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Yet listen to what John the Baptist also testifies:
“</span><span style="background: white; color: #010000; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Among you stands one whom you do not know, the
one who is coming after me; I am not worthy to untie the thong of his sandal.”
That is, the One we await is already here. We do not see him, not clearly, not
yet. We know him, but we don’t always know him. And this is one of the grand
messages of the Gospel of John: Jesus, the life-giving Word of God, has come
into the world.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="background: white; color: #010000; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">He came to his own, and they did not see him. A few did, but not
everybody. And one person at a time began to perceive the truth. He is here, he
knows me, he knows what I have done and what I have said. He knows my
struggles, because in coming to us, he has taken on the struggles and limits of
being human like us. And wherever he goes, whenever he speaks, life happens in
surprising ways.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="background: white; color: #010000; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Those with damaged legs begin to dance. Those with confused minds can
understand. Those who feel abandoned are accompanied. Those who die enter into
life. Those who are hungry are fed. Those who have lost everything are found.
Light and life to all he brings. That is the truth that confirms that the One
we await is already among us.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="background: white; color: #010000; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">So, the message of John the Baptist is simply this: keep looking, keep
listening, keep scanning for the Life of the One we cannot completely see. For
he is here. Like John, we testify to what we see and hear.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">A couple of weeks ago, I had a conversation with
two young friends on a Saturday morning. It was the day we had a team here to
decorate the sanctuary. Someone discovered a few creche scenes in the attic,
and I decided we would put one of them in the entryway, by the door from the
street.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">It took some doing. Who knows how long that
creche had been in the attic? It was covered with dirt and dust, but it is a
barn after all. I called over my two young helpers, thinking this was an opportunity
to retell the Christmas story as we put the figures in place. One figure at a
time, they helped me place Mary and Joseph, the shepherds, and the wise man,
then all the friendly beasts. If you take a moment to look at it next time you
pass, take note that everybody, even the camel, is looking at the baby Jesus.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Normally hidden from us, blending in for over
thirty years, not looking like anything more than a wood cutter’s son. Yet he
is in the center of it all. He invites our attention. Even if we cannot see
him, we can keep looking for him. And sometimes, a star will blink, a soul will
be mended, a hungry stomach will be filled, a hope will be renewed.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">That’s when John the Baptist gets it right. For
he says, “It’s not about me. It’s all about him.” And it is.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p>(c) William G. Carter. All rights reserved.</o:p></p><div style="mso-element: footnote-list;">
<hr align="left" size="1" width="33%" />
<!--[endif]-->
<div id="ftn1" style="mso-element: footnote;">
<p class="MsoFootnoteText" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><a href="file:///C:/Users/presb/Dropbox/Sermons/2023%20Sermons/2023%20Sermons%20-%20Not%20Me%20Its%20Him.doc#_ftnref1" name="_ftn1" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn1;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-font-kerning: 1.0pt;">[1]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></span></span></a><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;"> Josephus, Antiquities XVIII, v. 2,
quoted in the Interpreter’s Dictionary of the Bible, p. 939.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
</div>
<div id="ftn2" style="mso-element: footnote;">
<p class="MsoFootnoteText" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><a href="file:///C:/Users/presb/Dropbox/Sermons/2023%20Sermons/2023%20Sermons%20-%20Not%20Me%20Its%20Him.doc#_ftnref2" name="_ftn2" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn2;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-font-kerning: 1.0pt;">[2]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></span></span></a><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;"> Matthew 11:11<o:p></o:p></span></p>
</div>
<div id="ftn3" style="mso-element: footnote;">
<p class="MsoFootnoteText" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><a href="file:///C:/Users/presb/Dropbox/Sermons/2023%20Sermons/2023%20Sermons%20-%20Not%20Me%20Its%20Him.doc#_ftnref3" name="_ftn3" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn3;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-font-kerning: 1.0pt;">[3]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></span></span></a><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;"> Acts 19:1-10<o:p></o:p></span></p>
</div>
</div>presbybophttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17551073066437287094noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1154081749139966522.post-14730437336160954232023-12-09T23:46:00.000-05:002023-12-09T23:46:24.149-05:00The Man with the Pointy FingerMark 1:1-9 <br />Advent 2 <br />December 10, 2023 <br />William G. Carter<div><br /><br />The Bible is full of unusual people <br />who resemble us in every way. <br />Distance and time do not separate us <br />from what these folks do, what they say. <br />We look in the mirror when we open the pages <br />Astonished, we realize, that across the ages, <br />With clear relevance these now ancient sages <br />Speak with truth and point the way. <br /><br />So, consider a man who smelled like a camel. <br />He barked like a dog in the night. <br />John was his name, and he wasn’t tame. <br />He spoke with all of his might. <br />Folks thought he was strange, living out on the range, <br />His hair, long and dirty, an impressive mange. <br />He feasted on bugs. To us, that sounds strange, <br />This Man with the Pointy Finger. <br /><br />Before we dismiss him, consider his pedigree. <br />His father lived up in the hills. <br />A priest, with his wife, resided in Galilee, <br />off the beaten path where there are no thrills. <br />Because of his calling, he traveled to the Temple, <br />Not always, but sometimes, the schedule was simple. <br />He prayed and burned incense without drama or dimple. <br />Until an angel pointed to him. <br /><br />“I have news for you,” Gabriel said with delight. <br />“Despite your old age, you’ll soon have a son. <br />He’ll point to God’s work and turn people’s hearts.” <br />The priest said, “No way. I can’t be the one. <br />My wife, dear Elizabeth, is long past her days. <br />We’ve given up on children, with sadness, I’m afraid. <br />A baby’s not possible. No hope but dismay. <br />Surely, you’ve got the wrong father.” <br /><br />Don’t argue with an angel. For they never lie. <br />They speak for God with clear intent. <br />These messengers bring tidings of truth from on high. <br />It is God whom they represent. <br />The angel said, “You’re a priest. Don’t you recall? <br />The scriptures tell stories of barren folks, all, <br />Who gave birth despite the biological call. <br />Clearly, you have nothing to say.” <br /><br />The priest was struck silent in front of God’s altar. <br />Then he stumbled out, stiff as a post. <br />The crowd was astonished and somewhat frightened. <br />It seemed the old Priest saw a ghost. <br />He pointed inside. He pointed up high. <br />He pointed to his wife who let out a sigh. <br />Nine long months later, her birthing was nigh <br />For a baby with a pointy finger. <br /><br />That loosened his tongue, especially the day<br />when it was due time for the boy to be named.<br />People in town thought he’d be called Junior.<br />The priest shook his head. The matter reframed.<br /> “His name shall be John,” he wrote on a slate.<br /> “God gave him this name and I have to state<br /> He’s given to the Lord like Samuel – who was great.”<br />(Though for us, he’s the Man with the Pointy Finger.) <br /><br />A prophet, a truth-teller, pointing ahead<br />to God’s good work in one more Child.<br />John was called to reside in the desert,<br />by the river, where everything’s wild.<br /> His Old Testament clothing and his direct speech,<br /> sounded like the God of old could still reach<br /> The hearts, souls, and minds of those now impeached<br />By the Man with the Pointy Finger.<br /><br />He pointed to royals and named them as fakes.<br />He pointed to peasants and called out their sin.<br />He pointed to priests and named them as snake.<br />He pointed to all and invited them in.<br /> “Repent! Come home to the God who still loves you.<br /> Turn around from wrong paths. Resist what is killing you.<br /> God will burn everything false. It is true!”<br />Said the Man with the Pointy Finger.<br /><br />Every so often that message is heard,<br />though dismissed by an indulgent crowd.<br />Yet every so often, that message cuts through<br />the world’s charms and distractions so loud.<br /> God desires our cold hearts without a rival.<br /> God wants our attention to ensure our survival.<br /> God comes to ignite our souls in revival,<br />Said the Man with the Pointy Finger.<br /><br />Now, lest we think this John works only through words,<br />the Prophet calls us to the river.<br />He declares, “We must turn from every distraction<br />that pulls us away from life’s Giver.<br /> “Get into the water. It’s bracing and cold.<br /> The shock will affect you and shake up your soul.<br /> But you’ll stand again, wet, and part of God’s fold,”<br />Says the Man with the Pointy Finger.<br /><br />If we’ve become selfish, consumed by our greed,<br />if we in our arrogance push others around,<br />John points us to all who are starving in need,<br />saying, “Cut it out! Stop shaking them down.”<br /> If we have full closets of coats we don’t wear,<br /> God says it is high time to learn how to share.<br /> For this is but one way we can show holy care,<br /> Says the Man with the Pointy Finger.<br /><br />This Pointer remains a remarkable man,<br />a priest’s son and prophet, with plenty to say.<br />Crowds heard him gladly, for this was God’s plan.<br />Hip-deep in the river, he prepared the Way.<br /> The Way, toward what? You might wish to ask.<br /> The Way for God’s coming, our souls to unmask.<br /> For this was the Pointy Man’s ultimate task,<br />To point to the coming Messiah! <br /><br />“He is greater than I. Stop looking at me!<br />Turn your gaze toward him. See his fire!<br />He will burn worthless chaff. His grace sets us free.”<br />Those words, quite profound, will inspire.<br /> John points us to all, the good and the bad.<br /> He points us to brokenness that makes us sad.<br /> Then he points us toward Jesus whose love makes us glad.<br />This is the mission of the Pointy Finger. <br /><br />I suppose we could stay just the way that we are.<br />Self-contained, independent, indifferent to all.<br />Yet God selects John to speak, wash, and point.<br />A prophet, indeed, with a self-giving call.<br /> So, turn around and come home. Return to our God.<br /> Get ready for the Christ, who is God in a bod,<br /> Repent and embrace him, even if it is odd.<br />Says the Man with the Pointy Finger. <br /><br />We can dismiss John as ancient, a prophetic antique,<br />declaring he’s got nothing on us.<br />Yet the Word that he speaks is relevant still,<br />without a whole lot of fuss.<br /> Through him, God still points and calls to account<br /> All wayward children who live on this mount<br /> To access their souls, their fears to surmount.<br /> No one escapes that pointy finger.<br /><br />All of us wander from One who keeps loving us.<br />Some who still wander are lost.<br />All of us live with fidelity and fear,<br />and a few have their hearts touched by frost.<br /> John shows up again to ignite our weak hopes,<br /> To call us back home and to wise up the dopes.<br /> Without his clear call we’d be lost on the ropes.<br /> Thank God for the pointy finger! <br /><br />So come home, O saints, you Beloved of God.<br />You’re wanted, you’re loved, and you’re found.<br /> The Way is now clear to return to the Source.<br />The welcome awaits. It’s profound.<br /> Trust you are loved, no matter the sin.<br /> Trust sin is canceled, despite your chagrin.<br /> Trust there is One who gathers us in –<br /> And he has his finger on you!</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>(c) William G. Carter. All rights reserved.</div>presbybophttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17551073066437287094noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1154081749139966522.post-46991212530700898812023-12-02T22:20:00.004-05:002023-12-02T22:20:40.984-05:00Wake Up! The Beginning is Near<p class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0in 0.2in;">Mark 13:24-37 <br />December 3, 2023 <br />Advent 1 <br />William G. Carter<br /><i><br /><span style="background-color: white; color: #010000; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">“But in those days, after that suffering, the
sun will be darkened, and the moon will not give its light, and the stars will
be falling from heaven, and the powers in the heavens will be shaken. Th<span style="background: white;">en they will see ‘the Son of Man coming in clouds’
with great power and glory. Then he will send out the angels, and gather
his elect from the four winds, from the ends of the earth to the ends of
heaven.<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .2in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-font-kerning: 0pt;"><o:p><i> </i></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .2in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span style="color: #010000; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-font-kerning: 0pt;"><i>“From the fig tree learn its lesson: as
soon as its branch becomes tender and puts forth its leaves, you know that
summer is near. So also, when you see these things taking place, you know
that he is near, at the very gates. Truly I tell you, this generation will
not pass away until all these things have taken place. Heaven and earth
will pass away, but my words will not pass away.<o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .2in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span style="color: #010000; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-font-kerning: 0pt;"><o:p><i> </i></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .2in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span style="color: #010000; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-font-kerning: 0pt;"><i>“But about that day or hour no one knows,
neither the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father. Beware,
keep alert; for you do not know when the time will come. It is like a man
going on a journey, when he leaves home and puts his slaves in charge, each
with his work, and commands the doorkeeper to be on the watch. Therefore,
keep awake—for you do not know when the master of the house will come, in the
evening, or at midnight, or at cockcrow, or at dawn, or else he may find
you asleep when he comes suddenly. And what I say to you I say to all:
Keep awake.”</i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-font-kerning: 0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-font-kerning: 0pt;">Here we go again. Another
Advent, on our way to another Christmas. The season come around quickly for
most of us, maybe not so much for our children. But the months do circle by. A
lot of annual patterns are set. There’s the annual Christmas party on the first
Friday night of December. The community-wide Messiah singalong on the third
Sunday of the month. Some families put up their Christmas trees on the day
after Thanksgiving: they cut them down or tie them to the roof of the car or pull
the tree out of the closet. These things happen every year, right on schedule.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-font-kerning: 0pt;">The church marks the season
by counting back four weeks from December 25. The consumer world starts even
earlier. After Thanksgiving comes Black Friday, then Small Business Saturday is
followed by Cyber Monday. Everybody has a deal. The deals come like clockwork. There
is a shift as Cyber Monday leads into Giving Tuesday, a now annualized appeal for
end-of-year generosity. I counted thirty-seven e-mails asking for money and
contributed to three of them, because my first commitment is giving to this
church.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-font-kerning: 0pt;">The calendar may change but
the dates are locked in. In the words of a recurring holiday cartoon, “Look, Charlie
Brown. We all know Christmas is a big commercial racket. It’s run by an eastern
syndicate, you know.” We are accustomed to this, even numbed by it. Ho hum,
another holiday. Here we go again.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-font-kerning: 0pt;">And how does the Bible respond?
It hurtles this text into our sanctuary, telling us an interruption might come
at any time. Mark’s Gospel says the lights will go out – sun and moon and
stars. Heaven will shake. Then everybody will see the Son of Man coming toward
us. It will be a glorious day for some, a terrifying day for others. This is
how the season of Advent begins, with the promise there will be an enormous
interruption to all our routines, all our schedules, all our consumer spending.
There is a great day coming, even bigger than Christmas. It is going to smash
into everything. This is the Gospel of our Lord.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-font-kerning: 0pt;">Not what you wanted to hear.
Me neither. I hope to see the Lord come with power and might. But quite yet. We
just got the sanctuary decorated yesterday. I would like to enjoy this for a
while. It is early enough in Advent that we haven’t fired up the Christmas
carols yet. Don’t worry, we will. A couple of quick Purple Sundays, then it’s “Joy
to the World.” We will light candles and sing “Silent Night.” It’s on the
schedule. Christmas is coming. </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">The worship bulletins are
already prepared. That’s how I like to work: plan ahead!</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-font-kerning: 0pt;">Unless something happens.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-font-kerning: 0pt;">So, what could happen? This
thirteenth chapter of Mark began with Jesus walking out of the Jerusalem Temple
with a few of the boys. One of those upcountry fishermen paused, looked up, and
said, “What a place! It’s so big.” To which Jesus replied, “It’s coming down,
stone by stone.” Not what those Galileans wanted to hear. They considered the Temple
as God’s house. This is where God met the people – in the Temple, in the holidays,
in the rituals, in the annual routines. Jesus said, “It’s coming down.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-font-kerning: 0pt;">So, they pulled him away
from the crowd and said, “When is all this happening?” He didn’t answer the
question. What he did suggest is they pay attention to the signs of the times:</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-font-kerning: 0pt;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0in 0.5in; text-align: left; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; text-indent: -0.25in;">The
Temple was coming down. Just on the previous page, Jesus accuses institutional
religion of taking advantage of widows and those most vulnerable in the
community. God won’t let that stand. Not in his name.</span><br /><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0in 0.5in; text-align: left; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; text-indent: -0.25in;">People
will turn on one another. Well, that still happens. It is not God’s will.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0in 0.5in; text-align: left; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; text-indent: -0.25in;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0in 0.5in; text-align: left; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; text-indent: -0.25in;">Nation
will turn against nation. Yep, that’s business as usual. Also, what God does
not want.</span><br /><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0in 0.5in; text-align: left; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; text-indent: -0.25in;">The
public life of faith will be desecrated, what Jesus calls a “desolating
sacrilege.” </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; text-indent: -0.25in;">Cheapened, watered down, disregarded, turned into a spectacle.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-font-kerning: 0pt;"><o:p>J</o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">esus said all of this will
happen because all of it was happening. And in every generation, it keeps
happening. Somewhere, somehow, there is always destruction, fear, animosity,
and desolation. All of that has become a routine, just like the other routines
we have fallen into.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-font-kerning: 0pt;"><o:p>B</o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">ut Jesus is clear on one
thing: the Gospel must be preached. It is the same Gospel he came preaching on Day
One. The message is this, that the Kingdom of God is coming toward us. The
Rightful Ruler of the world will dismantle the deadly old ways. Love will win. Life
as we know it will be healed and transformed. All who belong to God’s coming
dominion will be gathered in and embraced by the angels.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">This is the Advent
hope, the deepest Advent hope. We come to prepare for the birth of the Baby
Jesus, but his birth was only the beginning. What is really coming is a whole
new heaven and earth, re-created in the love and justice of Christ Jesus.
People will stop hurting one another – that is the world he will create.
Consumers will find another purpose for their lives, something greater than
racking up their credit card balances. They will learn how to give to their
neighbors. This is how the earth will be reborn. A tired old world that profits
on animosity and destruction will be ultimately silenced by the Gospel that God
is in charge. People will wake up from a bad dream. That long, dull ache from
years of hurt and weariness will be relieved. For Christ, the Son of Man, is
coming toward us.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">We live in the
meantime. Meantime can be the meanest time. Jesus reminds us earthquakes will
shake us, famines will starve us, trouble will weary us, liars will twist
reality out of shape. We can expect all of this. The world is broken and so are
we.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Yet none of this
will last, says the Lord. What will continue to the end is the Word that Christ
speaks, that those in need are God’s beloved, that the wealthy are called to
participate as equals in the human race, that life is far more than mere
consumption, that fairness is something we must work for every single day. The
kingdom is coming, says Jesus the King. God is knocking at the door. And when
the full transformation comes, every one of us shall see it.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">What is the
invitation for us? Literally, to <u>stay</u> awake. To keep our eyes open and
our hearts aligned with God’s purposes. If there is any Gospel word that has
ignited our hearts, keep that fire burning. Invest in the future that God is
creating. Let go of the habits that are holding you back. Live simply, even if
the world is wasteful. Love generously, even when your neighbors are greedy. Most
of all, trust deeply, for this is God’s world. God has not brought us this far
to abandon the world he loves to bigots and fools. That is why he is coming. To
clarify and judge, to heal and restore, to heal and re-create.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">So, let’s stay
awake. When the person next to you nods off, give them a little nudge. When
someone you love becomes fearful of what’s out there, calm them with the
assurance of what’s ultimately coming. When bombarded by the consuming message
of “No payments ‘til February,” counter that empty nonsense by pulling extra
coats out of your closet for those who have none. And if you discover somebody eats
alone, invite them to dine at your table. We were made to enjoy one another.
Christ promises to wrap his arms around us all; do what you can to live as if that
is already true. Stay awake.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .2in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .2in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">For Christ is coming nearer, redeeming us from sin. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .2in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Our broken lives will soon be healed. God’s kingdom
now breaks in.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p><br /></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> (c) William G. Carter. All rights reserved.</o:p></span></p>presbybophttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17551073066437287094noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1154081749139966522.post-17603306759853487522023-11-25T13:06:00.005-05:002023-11-25T13:10:56.375-05:00Gratitude without Gravy<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .2in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0in 0in 0.2in;">Psalm 100 <br />November 26, 2023 <br />Christ the King</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .2in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0in 0in 0.2in;">William G. Carter<br /><i><br /><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">Make a joyful noise to the LORD, all the earth. <o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .2in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0in 0in 0.2in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;"><i>Worship the LORD with gladness; come into his presence
with singing. <o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .2in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0in 0in 0.2in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;"><i>Know that the LORD is God. It is he that made us, and
we are his; <o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .2in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0in 0in 0.2in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;"><i>we are his people, and the sheep of his pasture. <o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .2in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0in 0in 0.2in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;"><i>Enter his gates with thanksgiving, and his courts with
praise. Give thanks to him, bless his name. <o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .2in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0in 0in 0.2in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;"><i>For the LORD is good; his steadfast love endures
forever, and his faithfulness to all generations. <o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">This psalm is a
favorite for many of us. And it’s famous, too, so famous that it was quoted by
Mark Twain in</span><i style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> The Adventures of Tom Sawyer</i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">. You may remember the scene.
Tom, Huckleberry Finn, and their friend Joe Harper were hiding on an island and
pretending they were pirates. The whole town fears they had drowned in the
Mississippi. As the boys sneak back into town, they discover their funeral is
about to happen in the local Presbyterian Church.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">They hide up in
the balcony as the mourners arrive in black. Nobody could ever remember the
church so full. The preacher stands up in the pulpit and starts lying about
them. He talks about what wonderful children they were, spreading platitude
upon platitude as if he is icing a cake. Oh, it seemed like they were such
rascals, he said, but they were sweet and generous, so noble and beautiful in
their youth. The whole congregation breaks down into anguished sobs, and even
the preacher gives way to his feelings and begins to cry in the pulpit.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">Just then there’s
a rustle. The back door creaked, and one pair of eyes after another looked up
to see the lost boys walking down the aisle of their own funeral. They are
smothered with kisses and poured-out thanksgivings. Suddenly the minister
shouts at the top of his voice: “Praise God from who all blessings flow — Sing!
— and put your hearts into it.” And they did. Twain says,</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .3in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0in 0in 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .3in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0in 0in 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">Old Hundred swelled up with a triumphant burst, and
while it shook the rafters Tom Sawyer the Pirate looked around the envying
juveniles about him and confessed in his heart that was the proudest moment of
his whole life. As the congregation trooped out, they said they would almost be
willing to be made ridiculous again to hear Old Hundred sung like that once
more.<a href="file:///C:/Users/presb/Dropbox/Sermons/2023%20Sermons/2023%20Sermon%20-%20Gratitude%20without%20Gravy.doc#_ftn1" name="_ftnref1" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn1;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-font-kerning: 1.0pt;">[1]</span></span></span></span></a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">“Old Hundred,” of
course, is the One Hundredth Psalm, the same psalm that we dwell with today.
The Genevan setting became a tune we frequently sing. And we know how good it
feels to burst into song. A few of us are even wired to sing joyfully at any
moment. The rest of us need to be beckoned to join in. Old Psalm 100 is about
as good a song to sing.</span></p>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><div><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></div>It is a psalm of
joy; as the heading announces, it is a song of thanksgiving. When early church
leaders like the apostle Paul told the church to give thanks regularly, I’1l
bet my Thanksgiving turkey that he is talking about psalms like this one. All
the elements are there:</span><br /><br /><ul style="margin-top: 0in; text-align: left;" type="disc"><li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">The
invitation to praise God. <o:p></o:p></span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">The
affirmation of covenant love: we are God’s people, and the sheep of his hand.
<o:p></o:p></span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">There is the
call to joy. Like the line in that old version, we sang: “him serve with
mirth.” I love that! Just imagine those grumpy old Presbyterians singing
about mirth. <o:p></o:p></span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">Then there is
the continuing invitation: “give thanks to God. Enter God’s gates with
thanksgiving.” <o:p></o:p></span></li>
</ul>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">In that small town
next to the Mississippi River, it wasn’t long before Tom Sawyer’s Aunt Polly
discovered the truth. While she was mourning his death, he was off smoking
tobacco, covering himself in mud, and swapping lies with his friends. But in
the moment when everybody sang in church, she was glad that he and his friends
were alive. There isn’t a better sermon on the text than that.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">Is there anybody
here who feels glad to be alive? This is the psalm for you. It is a profound
reminder that life is a gift from the God who made us. It reminds that we
belong to God, as one large flock guarded by one shepherd. This is the primal
memory that stirs up gratitude.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">It’s a memory that
recurs throughout the Bible. Old Moses knew about that. His people were on the
edge of the Promised Land. They were so close that they could see the fruit dangling
in the trees. They could smell the honey. And he says, “Now, wait a second. Let
me give you the Book of Deuteronomy.” In one long speech after another, Moses reminded
them how much God has done for them. He knew that when people end up with a lot
of the good stuff of life, they start thinking they have earned it, or they deserve
it, or they are worthy of it. The truth is far simpler. They have received it.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">So, Moses says,
“Don’t forget about God. God has given us everything: food, freedom,
protection, abundance, and most of all, steadfast love. Don’t forget about God
— lest God forget about you.” Sometimes a whiff of obligation when somebody
says, “You ought to be grateful.” Well, there’s no “ought” to it. Gratitude is
funded by our memory. It is our memory of God - what God has done, how God has carried
us through our troubles, how God connects us to people who love us — it is our
memory of these things that stirs up our thankfulness.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">It is painful to
see people forget. Those who have the most are often the ones who are least
grateful. The children with the most toys in the closet are the ones who throw
the biggest tantrums in the shopping mall. Spiritually speaking, the problem is
amnesia. We forget where everything comes from. In that lapse, we start
hustling to make sure we have more stuff than everybody else. Or push to the
front of the line. That may be the greatest spiritual problem, both in this
town and in this nation: too much milk and honey can lead to memory loss.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">The pandemic has
been over for a while, but we can still remember how it felt. Isolation, anxiety,
silence, and fear. And then, as the plague subsided, we began to gather again to
share our meals. More than one mother said, “We take so much for granted and forget
how close we came to losing even more.” She paused and said, “Thursday was a real
Thanksgiving.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">All of us have the
capacity to remember. The baby who was sick, but now is strong — thanks be to
God. The teenager that got through a tormented season – thanks be to God. The
lost job that eventually led to a new open door — thanks be to God. The
relationship that blew apart but taught us new insights about ourselves –
thanks be to God. The precious one we lost, who instructed us how to love and
trust more deeply — thanks be to God.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">One of the gifts
of scripture is that it reminds us of how many things God has done for us.
There are, of course, the big moments, always spoken in first-person plural. We
were saved from Pharoah by walking through the sea. We walked through the
desert and received food and Torah. Lost in sin, we were saved by the cross of
Jesus. When we worried how to live without Jesus in a hostile world, God blew
the Holy Spirit upon us, and inspired the Torah to be written down and shared —
thanks be to God.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">This is the
pattern of a God who gives freely, who gives regularly, who gives abundantly.
When we remember the large, saving events that the scriptures narrate, it conditions
us to start seeing the quieter salvations that happen every day. As we
remember, we say thank you.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">Psalm 100 was the
first Bible passage that I ever learned. Who would have thought my first
memorized text began, “Make a joyful noise to the Lord”? Or that whenever I got
too big for my britches, the reminder came, <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“The Lord God made us, and we are his”? Or
that the continuing invitation of the spiritual life is to discern the
baptismal promise that we claim again today, namely that the Lord’s “steadfast
love endures forever’?</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">At the heart of it
all is the line stenciled over the organ pipes in the church where I grew up. I
saw it every week. Still see it whenever I return. In large letters, lest anybody
forget, “Enter his gates with thanksgiving.” It’s the code word for accessing
the grace of God like the way Eugene Peterson re-translates the verse: “Enter
with the password: Thank You!”<a href="file:///C:/Users/presb/Dropbox/Sermons/2023%20Sermons/2023%20Sermon%20-%20Gratitude%20without%20Gravy.doc#_ftn2" name="_ftnref2" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn2;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-font-kerning: 1.0pt;">[2]</span></span></span></span></a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">I don’t know how
you might live this out, but I’ll tell what a friend does. She keeps a
gratitude journal. She went to a local bookstore and picked up a blank journal.
Every time something good happens, she writes it down and whispers, “thank you.”
First thing in the morning, last thing before she shuts her eyes, she scans her
life for traces of grace.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">“It’s done wonders
for my spirit,” she says. “If I am inclined to rush on to another distraction,
the gratitude journal slows me down. If I’m feeling grouchy, the journal
expands my point of view. And on those days when the world seems out of control and I’m not so sure there’s a God,
I flip through the pages and reconsider. That simple practice has rewired
my soul. I’m a different person. I pay attention a whole lot more.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">On the festival
day of Christ the King, we remember Somebody else is running the world. Life
can be hard, and often is, but every day we are showered with uncounted gifts. It
is good to open our hands, to receive well, to stop believing we must do it all
as if we could save or sustain ourselves. But to pause, count the blessings, and
to thank the God who gives them.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">Remember. Pay
attention. Don’t forget. And once in a while, at least once every day, why not
break into song? In fact, this would be a pretty good time.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<div style="mso-element: footnote-list;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]-->(c) William G. Carter. All rights reserved.<br clear="all" />
<hr align="left" size="1" width="33%" />
<!--[endif]-->
<div id="ftn1" style="mso-element: footnote;">
<p class="MsoFootnoteText" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><a href="file:///C:/Users/presb/Dropbox/Sermons/2023%20Sermons/2023%20Sermon%20-%20Gratitude%20without%20Gravy.doc#_ftnref1" name="_ftn1" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn1;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-font-kerning: 1.0pt;">[1]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></span></span></a><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;"> Mark Twain (AKA Samuel Clemens), <i>The
Adventures of Tom Sawyer</i>, chapter 17. Accessed online at Project Gutenberg.
<a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/files/74/74-h/74-h.htm#c17">https://www.gutenberg.org/files/74/74-h/74-h.htm#c17</a>
<o:p></o:p></span></p>
</div>
<div id="ftn2" style="mso-element: footnote;">
<p class="MsoFootnoteText" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><a href="file:///C:/Users/presb/Dropbox/Sermons/2023%20Sermons/2023%20Sermon%20-%20Gratitude%20without%20Gravy.doc#_ftnref2" name="_ftn2" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn2;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-font-kerning: 1.0pt;">[2]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></span></span></a><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;"> Psalm 100:4, Eugene Peterson, <i>The
Message</i> (Colorado Springs: NavPress, 2005) <o:p></o:p></span></p>
</div>
</div>presbybophttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17551073066437287094noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1154081749139966522.post-29306478217601427812023-11-19T08:28:00.006-05:002023-11-19T08:28:59.251-05:00Counting Our DaysPsalm 90 <br />November 19, 2023 <br />William G. Carter<div> <p class="MsoNormal">The story is told of a young boy who dreamed of going into
outer space. When he was little, his dad bought him a toy rocket. From that
moment, his imagination took over. The countdown would begin, “Ten-nine-eight-seven-six-five-four-three-two-one.”
And he would hurl that rocket into the air.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The dream stayed with him. He leaned forward in science
class. The possibility of zero gravity excited him. He investigated what kind
of foods he could eat in outer space.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">And the adults who encouraged his interest were curious.
What’s the attraction to becoming an astronaut? Do you want to explore new
worlds? Colonize Mars? Go where no one has gone before? One day, at age twelve,
he replied. “I want to fly into eternity. Infinity and beyond!”</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">He had a point. There are no clocks in outer space, just
revolving planets that rotate around the sun. The universe seems endless, with no
obvious limits, no schedules, no deadlines. After you launch, you just float on
forever.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">One day, a well-intentioned adult pointed out, “Space may go
on forever, but you won’t. You have sixty, seventy, maybe eighty years to go.”
When the truth of that sank in, he landed with a thud. There is eternity, call
it God’s infinity. Compared to that, our lives are short.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">This is the truth of Psalm 90. We have an everlasting God, a
God who was there before there was a beginning. Before the mountains, before
the earth, before the whole universe was sung into being, God was. As a wise
old Episcopalian priest once said to me, “God is prior.” That is, before it
all. This eternal God shall also outlast us.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p>As for each of us, we have an expiration date. Don’t know
when it is, but this is a certainty. Sorry to bring that up, to puncture the
illusion of an unlimited life span, but everything ends. Everything except God.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The poet who put together Psalm 90 knows this. Perhaps she
was a philosopher, watching the rise and fall of one person after another. Maybe
she observed a sunset like the one we watched on Thursday afternoon, a
sherbet-colored sky streaked with red, orange, and purple, and then decided
there was beauty before us, there will be beauty after us, and that kind of
eternity will outlive us all. Maybe that gives you comfort. Or maybe you want
to push against it.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The psalmist pushes a bit. Three times, we hear about the “anger
and wrath” of God. This is not a scare tactic. The poet is not trying to
frighten us, like those fire and brimstone preachers in other churches and
previous generations. No, the “anger and wrath” in this psalm sound more like a
recognition that sooner or later, life gets hard. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">All those iniquities over the years, those secret things
that twisted us out of shape, they are exposed in God’s searing light. The effects
of aging, the aches and pains, that touch of arthritis that I now have in my right
hand – it’s ouch and sigh.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Blame Adam and Eve if you wish. Our primeval parents lived
in an eternal Garden until they committed an act of independence. With that,
God put limits on our lives. We had to live with the passing of four seasons,
the cycles of the moon, the creation of the sundial, the calendar, the clock,
the wristwatch, and a thousand handheld devices that shackle us. Our sense of
time is merely a subdivision of eternity. Even if we could blast off into eternal
space, at some moment, we would run out of time.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The last time I preached on this psalm was 2008, fifteen
years ago. Back then, I mentioned a website that a friend recommended. It is <a href="http://www.deathclock.com/">www.deathclock.com</a>. I don’t recommend it. It’s
billed as “the internet’s friendly reminder that life is slipping away.” If you
type in your birthdate, gender, weight, and emotional mood, it will calculate
how long you have left.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">In 2008, the death clock told me that I will last until 2033,
just ten years from now. Pretty ominous if you ask me. So, the other day, I
tried it again and it said, “October 24, 2032.” Uh oh – I lost a year. And on a
whim, I tried a second time. This time, it said, “November 14, 2047.” Wow – I picked
up fifteen years! Then I realized I’ve given my birthdate to a computer server
in China. Twice, in fact. And some stupid website cannot tell me how long I
have left.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">But if only we knew. If only.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">When our men’s group gathered last Thursday to reflect on the
psalm for today, I considered showing them a portion of one of my favorite
movies but decided against it. It’s a film called <i>About Schmidt</i>. Jack Nicholson plays Warren Schmidt, a man whose
dreams for retirement are interrupted. His wife dies unexpectedly. She left him
with a Winnebago he didn’t want. Their daughter is marrying an idiot. Not what
he expected for his autumn years!</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">And Schmidt, of all people, knows life is short. As he
explains,</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;">I was an actuary at Woodmen of the
World Insurance Company. If I’m given a man’s age, race, profession, place of
residence, marital status, and medical history, I can calculate with great
probability how long that man will live. In my own case, now that my wife has
died there is a 73% chance I will die within nine years, provided that I do not
remarry. All I know is I’ve got to make the best of whatever time I have left.
Life is short, and I can’t afford to waste another minute.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> I</o:p>n the very next scene, Schmidt is taking a snooze in his
Lazy Boy recliner.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The Bible scholars say this passage reminds us that God is
God. God is not arbitrary. God is not mean. God does not dish out absurdity or
meaninglessness. But neither will anybody ever step on God’s toes. There are
limits to what we can and cannot accomplish in this life. There is only so much
that we can get done in one day. Even if God loves us, one scholar reminds us, “Death
is the final and ultimate ‘no’ that cancels any pretension to autonomy from the
human side.”<a href="file:///C:/Users/presb/Dropbox/Sermons/2023%20Sermons/2023%20Sermons%20-%20Counting%20Our%20Days.doc#_ftn1" name="_ftnref1" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">[1]</span></span></span></a> </p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">We cannot finish our own lives. We may not finish all the
projects around the house. That’s what Psalm 90 says in five or six different
ways. This is not intended as good news. It’s simply the news of how things
are. There are limits to our ability. No matter how capable we are, we cannot
do it all. No matter how good we try to be, there are limits which are
established beyond our control. No matter how much time we think we have, we
will not have enough. Either that, or we get bored with the time we have. Or
end up taking a nap while the world carries on.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">This psalm, with the collection of the psalms, lies under the
category of biblical wisdom. It lies beside the wisecracking book of Proverbs,
the sardonic book of Ecclesiastes, the passion of the Song of Solomon, and the
head-scratching mysteries of the book of Job. All of them are unified in the
truth that God is greater than we are – God is a whole lot smarter, God is more
elusive, God is more loving or more faithful, or – in this case – God has
longevity that we don’t have.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">It's that insight that gets echoed in the strange Second Letter
of Peter, one of the other texts for today. An early apostle reflects on the
final coming of Christ, that great day when history will end, when all things will
be caught up in the glory of God. It’s going to be a big moment, the greatest
of all – but it’s taking a while. It’s taking a long while.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">So, Peter draws on the language of our psalm by saying, “Don’t
forget that, with the Lord one day is like a thousand years, and a thousand
years are like one day.” God is not being slow, he says. God’s showing you some
patience. God is giving you some time to shape up and come to your senses. (2 Peter
3:8-15) <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">This is the beginning of wisdom, what the psalmist calls “a
heart full of wisdom,” or simply “a wise heart.” In the words of one scholar, "A
wise heart does not refer to knowledge, skill, technique, or the capacity to
control. Instead, it seems to mean the capacity to submit, relinquish, and
acknowledge the decisive impingement of Yahweh on one's life."<a href="file:///C:/Users/presb/Dropbox/Sermons/2023%20Sermons/2023%20Sermons%20-%20Counting%20Our%20Days.doc#_ftn2" name="_ftnref2" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn2;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">[2]</span></span></span></span></a></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">God
will outlive us. Ultimately God will win…over everything. One way to gain this
wise heart is to lean back into God’s everlasting arms and try to get the
biggest picture possible - - to see as God sees, over vast spans of time. To be
patient, as God is infinitely patient. To affirm that life happens to us,
through us, and in spite of us. To declare there is nothing separates us from
the steadfast love of the Lord. To hold fast to such truths is to develop a
wise heart.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">It is of great comfort to remember God does not wear a
wristwatch. God is eternal, standing outside of human time, while mysteriously
entering our time with the grace of Jesus Christ. From moment to moment, we
catch glimpses of how God is inclined to help us when we can’t help ourselves, and
that’s how God will save us. To some extent, we are always up against the wall
and our own failings are obvious. But God holds the ability to finish what we
cannot.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">In my journal, I’ve copied and re-copied some words by the theologian
Reinhold Niebuhr. They give me perspective, and they go like this:</p>
<ul style="margin-top: 0in;" type="square">
<li class="MsoNormal" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in;">Nothing
that is worth doing can be achieved in our lifetime; therefore, we are
saved by hope. <o:p></o:p></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in;">Nothing
which is true or beautiful or good makes complete sense in any immediate
context of history; therefore, we must be saved by faith. <o:p></o:p></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in;">Nothing
we do, however virtuous, can be accomplished alone; therefore, we are
saved by love. <o:p></o:p></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in;">No
virtuous act is quite as virtuous from the standpoint of our friend or foe
as it is from our standpoint. Therefore, we must be saved by the final
form of love which is forgiveness.”<a href="file:///C:/Users/presb/Dropbox/Sermons/2023%20Sermons/2023%20Sermons%20-%20Counting%20Our%20Days.doc#_ftn3" name="_ftnref3" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn3;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">[3]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></span></a><o:p></o:p></li>
</ul>
<p class="MsoNormal">Our time is short. But God’s time is eternal. And the best
way to number our days is to make them count. To do something important with
whatever time we have left.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">And so, I charge you to help a child reach for the stars. Enjoy
a sherbet-colored sunset. Plant a sequoia. Write the next great American novel.
Forgive the lingering grudge. Feed the hungry. Empty your pockets for somebody
else’s children. Take a stand against wastefulness. Show strangers they are
worthy of your respect. Tell those who circle around you that you love them. Make
the most of what you have left, because, eternally speaking, time is short.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Most of all, don’t sweat the small stuff and don’t sweat the
big stuff, for God’s steadfast love endures forever.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<div style="mso-element: footnote-list;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]-->(c) William G. Carter. All rights reserved.<br clear="all" />
<hr align="left" size="1" width="33%" />
<!--[endif]-->
<div id="ftn1" style="mso-element: footnote;">
<p class="MsoFootnoteText"><a href="file:///C:/Users/presb/Dropbox/Sermons/2023%20Sermons/2023%20Sermons%20-%20Counting%20Our%20Days.doc#_ftnref1" name="_ftn1" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn1;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">[1]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></span></a> James L.
Mays, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Psalms</i>, Interpretation (<st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Louisville</st1:place></st1:city>: John Knox,
1004) 292.<o:p></o:p></p>
</div>
<div id="ftn2" style="mso-element: footnote;">
<p class="MsoPlainText"><a href="file:///C:/Users/presb/Dropbox/Sermons/2023%20Sermons/2023%20Sermons%20-%20Counting%20Our%20Days.doc#_ftnref2" name="_ftn2" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn2;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: Consolas; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">[2]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></span></span></a><span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">Walter Brueggemann, <i>The Message of the Psalms</i>
(Minneapolis: Augsburg) 111.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoFootnoteText"><o:p> </o:p></p>
</div>
<div id="ftn3" style="mso-element: footnote;">
<p class="MsoFootnoteText"><a href="file:///C:/Users/presb/Dropbox/Sermons/2023%20Sermons/2023%20Sermons%20-%20Counting%20Our%20Days.doc#_ftnref3" name="_ftn3" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn3;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">[3]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></span></a> Reinhold
Niebuhr, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Irony of American History</i>
(New York: Charles Scribner’s sons, 1952) 63.<o:p></o:p></p>
</div>
</div></div>presbybophttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17551073066437287094noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1154081749139966522.post-42209484854102849042023-11-11T20:13:00.004-05:002023-11-11T20:13:53.965-05:00Can't Hide These Things<div>Psalm 78</div><div>William G. Carter</div><div><br /></div><div><p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; tab-stops: .2in; text-autospace: none; text-indent: -.6in;"> In
case you’ve forgotten the heart of that long psalm, it’s in the opening verses:
<b><i>“Give
ear, O my people, to my teaching; incline your ears to the words of my mouth. I
will open my mouth in a parable; I will utter dark sayings from of old, things
that we have heard and known, that our ancestors have told us.”</i></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"> Some people
call this “the Christian Education” psalm, and for good reason. It speaks of
teaching. It speaks of the faithful tradition of education. A wise teacher
speaks to the covenant community and says, “Listen up!” Class is in session.
It’s time to learn. The teacher says, “I’m going to reach back and grab the
truth from our past, and I’m going to bring right here and give it to our
future.” That’s the theme for today.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"> Those of
you who teach children will find yourself affirmed, for the Teacher says, “We
will tell God’s glorious deeds to the coming generation; we will not hide them
from our children.” Those of you who work with older adults can affirm that our
future is shaped by our memory. The teaching ministry is narrated right here in
Psalm 78. And the word for today is “remember.”</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"> What do you
remember? Can you remember <st1:place w:st="on">Egypt</st1:place>?
The Passover? The wandering in the desert? The entry into Promised Land? Can
you remember <st1:place w:st="on">Bethlehem</st1:place>?
<st1:place w:st="on">Jerusalem</st1:place>? <st1:city w:st="on">Antioch</st1:city> and <st1:city w:st="on">Rome</st1:city>? And just for a moment, can you remember those
who taught you about these things?</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"> One Sunday some
time back, I preached in my home church in upstate New York. Just like old
times back in seminary. It was right after Christmas and the minister was off
doing something important (I think it was a New York Giants game). In a smooth
move, he invited the hometown boy to return and preach to his family and their
friends.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"> While the
choir was warming up, I peeked into the Christian Education classrooms. Somebody had painted over that old mural of
the feeding of the five thousand – yet the story still lingers in me. I can
still remember the face of Jesus.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"> As I came
around the corner with my pulpit gown over my arm, there was Bonnie Ballard, my
second grade Sunday School teacher. She exclaimed, “It’s little Billy Carter.”
I assured her that neither is true. Years ago, Miss Ballard made me memorize
three psalms, nine Beatitudes, and the Lord’s Prayer. She taught me that
Presbyterians don’t “trespass,” they fall into debt. She picked me to play
Joseph in the Christmas pageant because I was prematurely tall and it didn’t
require speaking a lot of lines. And I tell you, she was one bewildered saint
when God grabbed a hold of me and sent me off to serve the church. Imagine the
shock – one of your students might become a teacher!</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"> I’ll bet
you’re here today, in no small part, because somebody like you taught somebody
like you. They reached into the past to grab the riches of our heritage, and
they offered them as gifts to fund your heart and mind. Can you remember?</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"> I will
never forget the memories from that visit. There I was, in the same room where
I was confirmed and ordained. The green stained glass gave the air an
underwater glow, as if all were submerged in the baptismal font. All around the
walls of the sanctuary were large stone plaques, remembering saints who endured
long church meetings. Back on the right was a huge piece of marble naming the
ancient minister that received my parents into the membership. He served as
pastor for thirty-seven years, and his successor told us in Confirmation Class
that the Old Duffer might actually be buried behind it.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"> Halfway
back, center left, my family sat in the same familiar pew. That’s where my Dad
croaked out his favorite hymn, “Holy, Holy, Holy,” until the words began to
sink in. A few minutes into the sermon, the four of us kids would start to fidget,
so he would start a roll of Wintergreen Lifesavers down the pew. Sunday after
Sunday he kept doing that until the words of those sermons began to make sense.
You know, over the years I’ve heard people brag about their salvation moments.
As for me, I got saved through Lifesavers.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"> It reminds
me of what John Calvin said about his own Christian formation in a passage that
I’ve never been able to find: “The moment of my conversion was the moment that
I became teachable.” If Calvin didn’t say it, he should have.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"> All of
this, I tell you, is a parable. Can you remember?</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"> There is
much that the Teacher remembers. Psalm 78 is not all pleasant and joyful. Oh
no. If we reach back into the past, we have to deal with the things we’ve done,
or the things we’ve left undone. We have to face all those devices and desires
in our twisted hearts.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"> Psalm 78 remembers
a lot of honest stories. It does not whitewash the truth. The Teacher of the
poem keeps asking, “Do you remember where we’ve come from? And do you remember
the fine mess that we fell into?” The Psalmist offers one story after another
of how God did something good, and people of faith goofed it up.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"> The Teacher
says, “Do you remember how we were in the desert? The sun was pounding down, we
were walking around without water, we were complaining about the heat, we were wondering
how we were going to make it. And God said, ‘Whack that rock with a stick, and
I’ll give you living water.” That’s what Moses did – but we complained about
it.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"> And the
Teacher says, “Can you remember where we were before the desert? We were slaves
in a foreign land. We were down in <st1:place w:st="on">Egypt</st1:place>, forced to produce for Old
Pharoah. Pharoah was a nasty taskmaster. He demanded bricks from us until God
stepped in. God poured blood in the river, sent frogs and flies, struck the
first-born down, until Pharoah said, “Yes, you can go.”</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"> And the
very minute we became free, we began acting like we were the center of the universe,
and it made God angry.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"> Oh yes, we
look back and remember. And some of what we see is painfully honest.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"> A friend
suggested David McCullough’s book on the Johnstown Flood. For those of you who may
not know the details, two thousand people died in 1889. The Johnstown Flood was
one of the greatest natural disasters in this country. I didn’t realize until I
read the book that it was caused by God and the Presbyterians.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"> For God’s
part, God sent a lot of rain. As for the Presbyterians, they were people like
Andrew Carnegie, Andrew Mellon, and Henry Clay Frick – wealthy industrialists
who made millions on steel and railroads. They built a hunting camp about
fifteen miles up the hill from <st1:place w:st="on">Johnstown</st1:place>.
When summer came, it was a great place to escape from the stress of their
mansions in <st1:place w:st="on">Pittsburgh</st1:place>.
However, they didn’t pay attention to the quality of the dam that created their
fishing lake. They ignored every warning that the dam wasn’t safe. And after
God sent all the rain, and the dam burst, and the flood roared down the hill,
those rich old Covenanters said, “Maybe we should start summering in the
Adirondacks, or in <st1:place w:st="on">Paris</st1:place>.”</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"> As David
McCullough reminds us, “There is a danger in assuming that because people are
in positions of responsibility they are necessarily behaving responsibly.” </p>
<p class="MsoNormal"> O people of
faith, are you willing to remember? Are we willing to look honestly at the
human condition? Can we be transparent enough to confess where we’ve wandered?
Only then can we also confess the hope that God has planted within our souls.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"> Scholars
tell us this is a salvation history psalm. With apologies to the scholars, so
what? So what does it matter that we classify this as a “salvation history
psalm”? That is a worthless piece of information until we realize that <u>we</u>
are the ones with that history. We share the narrative of God’s persistence. We
hold a sacred story of how God has stuck with us – even though God could have
chosen people far more faithful and better tempered.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"> Like that lady
who was sitting next to me in the movie theater. The film was “Dream Girls.” I
was watching the movie like a dull Scot, chomping on popcorn, and going “hmm” every
time we heard a good song. Not her; she was in constant dialogue with the plot;
if you saw the movie, you know what I mean. It was like we were in her African
American church on Sunday morning, and my friend was letting the preacher knew
right where she was.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"> At one
point in the movie, as the band manager from <st1:city w:st="on">Detroit</st1:city> was starting to get too big from his
britches, my friend murmured out, “Now, don’t you forget where you came from.” That
was the best part of a really good movie. It summed up the plot pretty well.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"> So where do
the people of God come from? We come from the steadfast mercy of God. Don’t ever
forget this. Don’t forget God makes each one of us, and calls us precious. Don’t
forget that, in the language of the psalm, God “snorts with indignation” when
we forget where we’re from. Don’t forget that God gives us this day our daily
bread, even as we keep testing and pushing up against such generosity. And whatever
else, don’t forget that God stays with us through every wrong turn on a bumpy
road.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"> If you
listen to Psalm 78, it sounds like God has had plenty of reasons to dump this
unfaithful people, but God will not do it. God stays faithful, because a
promise is a promise, a covenant is a covenant. God stays with us - - and <u>that</u>
is the great parable. That’s the hidden mystery of how a holy God keeps bending
down toward people with bloody hands and dirty fingernails. It has less to do
with our behavior, and more to do with God’s character. Infinitely more.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"> “Listen,”
says the Teacher, “and I will open my mouth in a parable. I will utter things
we have heard and known which we will not hide from our children.”</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"> I give
thanks to God for people like you. Your ministry shapes people to get ready for
God. You equip people to apprehend the Holy Presence. You school them in God’s
perseverance. In fact, much of your work is a parable of the perseverance of
God.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"> They warned
me about him. He was a handful in Sunday School. Actually, more like two
handfuls. All I know was he was late for his own wedding rehearsal, sauntering
toward the sanctuary, an unlit cigarette dangling out of the corner of his
mouth. Suddenly he saw a project still hanging from his days in Mrs. Diven’s
fourth grade class. “Hey, I made that paper cross!” he said, the cigarette
tumbling and rolling across the narthex. Who knows what stories you have been
planted in many a restless heart? And someday those seeds will take root, and
someone will remember about God. Listen, listen - this is the parable.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"> Every time we gather is an opportunity for us to remember. It calls us to recall how our
story has been shaped by God’s story. That’s our parable to pass along. I pray
that this week, you will listen to the past as it speaks to our future. I pray
that your memory will be renewed until it deepens the faith of the church. Can
you remember how God gave us what we needed? Can you recall how God raised his
voice? Can you remember how God abides in thick and thin? We are called to remember
because memory is the textbook of grace.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"> It is good
for all of us to be here. Let us not take this gift for granted. We are here
because God has been faithful. So faithful, that someone hands us the broken
bread and says, “This is my life, given for you.” And then he hands us the cup,
speaking the words, “All sins are forgiven in my blood.” Do you remember? </p>
<p class="MsoNormal"> Of course
you do. You remember our common human weakness and God’s continuing mercy. You
remember - because you’ve been baptized to remember. </p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> (c) William G. Carter. All rights reserved.</o:p></p></div>presbybophttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17551073066437287094noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1154081749139966522.post-12895262262083422382023-10-28T23:01:00.000-04:002023-10-28T23:01:05.359-04:00Learning the SecretPhilippians 4:10-20 <br />October 29, 2023<div>William G. Carter</div><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0 0 0 40px; padding: 0px;"><div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">I rejoice in the Lord greatly that now at last you
have revived your concern for me; indeed, you were concerned for me, but had no
opportunity to show it. Not that I am referring to being in need; for I have
learned to be content with whatever I have. I know what it is to have little,
and I know what it is to have plenty. In any and all circumstances I have
learned the secret of being well-fed and of going hungry, of having plenty and
of being in need. I can do all things through him who strengthens me. In any
case, it was kind of you to share my distress. You Philippians indeed know that
in the early days of the gospel, when I left Macedonia, no church shared with
me in the matter of giving and receiving, except you alone. For even when I was
in Thessalonica, you sent me help for my needs more than once. Not that I seek
the gift, but I seek the profit that accumulates to your account. I have been
paid in full and have more than enough; I am fully satisfied, now that I have
received from Epaphroditus the gifts you sent, a fragrant offering, a sacrifice
acceptable and pleasing to God. And my God will fully satisfy every need of
yours according to his riches in glory in Christ Jesus.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">To our God and Father be glory forever and
ever. Amen.</span></i></p></div></blockquote><div>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">This fall, we have
been working our way through Paul's letter to the Philippians. Today we get to
the purpose for writing the letter. This is a thank you note – with a very long
introduction. It’s taken a while for him to get to this. I don’t know why it
takes so long to get to writing a thank you, but I will confess that it usually
takes me far too long to acknowledge a gift.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Today that’s what
we hear Paul doing. The Philippians sent him a large sum of money. It was
delivered by Epaphroditus, who risked his life to get it to the apostle. And
Paul wants to write to his donors to acknowledge the gift. But it’s a most
unusual note. For one thing, it’s too long. A thank you note should be brief.
Like this:</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .2in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .2in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Dear Mr. and Mrs. Carter, Lucinda and I want to thank
you for the toaster oven. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .2in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Of the seven toaster ovens we received at our wedding,
we like yours most of all. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .2in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">We appreciate your generosity. Sincerely yours, Mark.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Now, that's long
enough. The note doesn't need to say anything more. They got the gift. That’s
enough. But listen to Paul's letter. He goes on for two whole pages of stationery.
And the tone is all wrong. He says, "I rejoice in the Lord that you
finally revived your concern for me.” You thought of my again…finally. That
word "finally" is harsh.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Fortunately, the
ink is still wet, so Paul eases his tone. "Well, I knew you were concerned,
but you didn't have an opportunity to show it. Yet I don't really need the
gift," he continues. "I've learned to be content in every way." (This
is supposed to be a thank-you note, if you missed that.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">"I don't sit
around my prison cell waiting for care packages to arrive. I know how to get by
on very little. I know how to receive an abundance. Christ gives me the
strength to handle whatever happens. Nevertheless, you were the only ones who remembered
me. Of course, I didn't ask for the gift. (He doesn't back off, does he!) Even
though I received it, you didn't really give it to me, you gave it to
God."</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Now what kind of
note is this? If this is how the apostle says thank you, it’s no wonder why the
Christians in Philippi were the only ones who ever sent him a gift. Most of the
time Paul wouldn’t let anybody put a few dollars in his pocket. He told the
church in Corinth, "I preach free of charge." That's not something
I'd say. I have groceries to buy, a mortgage to pay, and obligations to meet. But
that’s what Paul said to that other church.<a href="file:///C:/Users/presb/Dropbox/Sermons/2023%20Sermons/2023%20Sermons%20-%20Learning%20the%20Secret.doc#_ftn1" name="_ftnref1" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn1;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-font-kerning: 1.0pt;">[1]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></span></a> But the church in Philippi
was different. He thought of them as partners in the Gospel.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Even so, he seems
awkward as he acknowledges the gift. He's not entirely comfortable. "No
other church shared in the matter of giving and receiving," he says. "But
I didn't seek the gift. I have more than enough. Yet your gift is a fragrant
offering." Can you feel his awkwardness? Gifts can make us uncomfortable.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Years ago, I
clipped an article by a man who wrote about his memories of Christmas. As a
child, he began planning for the holiday in February. He scribbled out the next
year's wish list before the winter snow melted off the ground. Each year he
listed a full page of toys which he wanted more than anything else. Then he
waited impatiently. When Christmas finally came, his joy erupted. Packages were
ripped open. Wrapping paper and bows went flying in delight. What killed his
happiness, he says, was the presence of his mother. She insisted he write thank-you
notes for every gift received. As he put it, <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .2in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .2in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Every present under our Christmas tree was just the
visible tip of an iceberg of obligation. My mother tracked each package as
meticulously as a U.P.S. driver, and her master list haunted my siblings and me
for the rest of winter vacation. Bells would be ringing, snow would be falling,
our friends would be sliding down our street on brand-new Flexible Flyers - and
my sister, my brother, and I would be bent over tear-spattered sheets of
stationery, whimpering.<a href="file:///C:/Users/presb/Dropbox/Sermons/2023%20Sermons/2023%20Sermons%20-%20Learning%20the%20Secret.doc#_ftn2" name="_ftnref2" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn2;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-font-kerning: 1.0pt;">[2]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></span></a><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">Receiving a gift
can be an awkward moment because it is a significant moment. In the language of
the New Testament, the occasion is so profound that the same word is used for
both the giving and the receiving of a gift. The word is </span><i style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">charis</i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">, which
is usually translated "grace." The word can be translated as
"gift." It can also be translated as "thanks." It doesn't
matter if it's being given (gift) or being received (thanks). The whole
exchange happens equally between the one who gives and the one who receives. At
its best, both giver and receiver are marked by the same graciousness.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">There is no human
occasion that more clearly reveals what God is doing in our hearts than the
giving and the receiving of a gift. It is a tender moment. It is a demanding
moment. It is a revelatory moment. That is, the way we receive a gift reveals
who we are and what we're made of.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Now, there's no
evidence that Paul was ungrateful. To the contrary, he told the Philippian
people, "I thank my God whenever I think of you." (1:3) And he meant
it. This is the most affectionate document in the whole New Testament. It could
be that Paul is nervous how the gift may damage their relationship. Gifts can
do that! Some gifts are given in such a way that they ruin the very thing they
wish to establish.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Have you ever read
the book <i>Spoon River Anthology</i>, by Edgar Lee Masters? It's a book of
epitaphs from the people of the fictional town of Spoon River, Illinois. From
the grave, the townspeople tell the truth about their lives. One woman,
Constance Hately, reveals why her two adopted nieces grew up to despise her. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .2in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .2in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">You praise my self-sacrifice, Spoon River,<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .2in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">In rearing Irene and Mary, Orphans of my older sister!<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .2in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">And you censure Irene and Mary for their contempt for
me!<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .2in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">But praise not my self-sacrifice, and censure not
their contempt;<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .2in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">I reared them, I cared for them, true enough! - - <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .2in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">But I poisoned my benefactions with constant reminders
of their dependence.<a href="file:///C:/Users/presb/Dropbox/Sermons/2023%20Sermons/2023%20Sermons%20-%20Learning%20the%20Secret.doc#_ftn3" name="_ftnref3" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn3;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-font-kerning: 1.0pt;">[3]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></span></a><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">Aunt Constance
said, "Girls, I took you in when your mother died. I never want you to
forget it. As long as you live beneath my roof, as long as you sit at my table,
I want you to remember that your very lives depend on me." Year after
year, they grew to detest her . . . because of what she provided for them and
how it was given.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">All the more
remarkable, then, that Paul thanks them for the gift, yet refuses to orbit
around their generosity.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">He says, "I
know how to have a lot. I know how to have a little. In every occasion I have
learned how to be content. I have been initiated into the secret." </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">That's an unusual
phrase: "I have been initiated into the secret." Paul doesn't explain
it. He keeps it a secret. Yet I’ll bet some of us will understand what he's
talking about.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">Did you ever
notice how some people never ask for a gift, and when they receive one, they
are absolutely delighted and strangely free? And others receive a gift, and
they are unsatisfied? The first group of people knows the secret, while the
second group doesn't have a clue.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Did you ever
notice how some people can give and give and give, and when somebody gives them
something, it fills them with abundant joy? And then there are others who constantly
give and give and give. Yet if someone should ever try to give them something,
the giver is pushed away. Do you know why that happens? It's because they do
not know the secret.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">Any guess what the
secret is? Paul never says, but I have a hunch. And if you promise to keep it a
secret, I'll tell you what I think it is. It’s the secret that sets us free
from having to possess a lot of things. It’s the secret that sets us free to receive
a lot of things. It works both ways. In fact, I have met people who know their
Bibles, yet totally miss the secret. Do you know what it is?</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">It’s the fundamental
secret of the Christian life, the only secret that really matters, the one true
piece of evidence that signifies that God in Christ is transforming your life.
Here it is. The fundamental secret of the Christian life is gratitude. An
attitude of gratitude.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .2in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .2in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">"I can have a lot, or I can have a little. Either
way, I'm grateful."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .2in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">"I can receive the money, or I can live without
the money. Either way, I'm grateful."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .2in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">"I can appreciate the way you share my
difficulties, or I can be content by myself.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .2in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>However life turns, my heart is full of
gratitude. Christ is sufficient. "<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">That's the secret.
It’s rooted in our experience of the greater generosity of God. Anybody who
knows it, embraces it, lives it, is free. Absolutely free.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Back in the heyday
of the Reformation, the Geneva Catechism asked the question, "Should we be
grateful to other people when they perform some service for us?" The
answer: "Of course we should, precisely because God honors them by channeling
through their hands the good things that flow to us from the inexhaustible
fountain of his generosity. In this way he puts us in their debt, and he wants
us to acknowledge it. Anyone, therefore, who does not show gratitude to other
people betrays ingratitude to God as well."<a href="file:///C:/Users/presb/Dropbox/Sermons/2023%20Sermons/2023%20Sermons%20-%20Learning%20the%20Secret.doc#_ftn4" name="_ftnref4" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn4;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-font-kerning: 1.0pt;">[4]</span></span></span></span></a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">God has so
arranged the world that we depend upon the gifts of others for our daily
survival. Every breath of life, every heartbeat, every conscious thought is a
gift. Every person we meet, every friend we make, every relationship that warms
the heart and challenges the soul is a gift. Every opportunity to work, every
meaningful task, every dollar earned is a gift. And the final work of God is
not merely to fill our lives with good things, but to teach us to receive all
things with gratitude.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> S</o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">o let me say it: I
am grateful for all of you. You make our ministry possible. Your sharing in the
Gospel commitment moves mountains and nourishes bellies. You show the love to Christ
in the commitments that you make and the songs that you sing. Most of all, God
shows the generosity of heaven through you. I am grateful for your faith, your
hope, and your love. So, I’ll never tire of saying thank you.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p><br /></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> (c) William G. Carter. All rights reserved,/</o:p></span></p><div style="mso-element: footnote-list;">
<hr align="left" size="1" width="33%" />
<!--[endif]-->
<div id="ftn1" style="mso-element: footnote;">
<p class="MsoFootnoteText" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><a href="file:///C:/Users/presb/Dropbox/Sermons/2023%20Sermons/2023%20Sermons%20-%20Learning%20the%20Secret.doc#_ftnref1" name="_ftn1" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn1;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-font-kerning: 1.0pt;">[1]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></span></span></a><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;"> 1 Corinthians 9:14-18.</span></p></div><div id="ftn2" style="mso-element: footnote;">
<p class="MsoFootnoteText" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-font-kerning: 1.0pt;">[2]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></span></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;"> David Owen, "No Thanks," <i>The New Yorker</i>
18 December 1995: 128.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
</div>
<div id="ftn3" style="mso-element: footnote;">
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><a href="file:///C:/Users/presb/Dropbox/Sermons/2023%20Sermons/2023%20Sermons%20-%20Learning%20the%20Secret.doc#_ftnref3" name="_ftn3" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn3;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-font-kerning: 1.0pt;">[3]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></span></span></a><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 10.0pt;"> Edgar Lee
Masters, <i>Spoon River Anthology</i> (New York: Signet Classic, 1992) 10.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
</div>
<div id="ftn4" style="mso-element: footnote;">
<p class="MsoFootnoteText" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><a href="file:///C:/Users/presb/Dropbox/Sermons/2023%20Sermons/2023%20Sermons%20-%20Learning%20the%20Secret.doc#_ftnref4" name="_ftn4" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn4;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-font-kerning: 1.0pt;">[4]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></span></span></a><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;"> Quoted in B. A. Gerrish, <i>Grace
and Gratitude</i> (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1993) 45.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
</div>
</div></div>presbybophttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17551073066437287094noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1154081749139966522.post-57528742673251840532023-10-21T21:32:00.003-04:002023-10-21T21:32:31.473-04:00We Go HighPhilippians 4:1-9 <br />October 22, 2023<br />William G. Carter<br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .2in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br />Therefore, my brothers and sisters, whom I love and
long for, my joy and crown, stand firm in the Lord in this way, my beloved. I
urge Euodia and I urge Syntyche to be of the same mind in the Lord. Yes, and I
ask you also, my loyal companion, help these women, for they have struggled
beside me in the work of the gospel, together with Clement and the rest of my
co-workers, whose names are in the book of life. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .2in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .2in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice.
Let your gentleness be known to everyone. The Lord is near. Do not worry about
anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let
your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all
understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .2in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .2in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Finally, beloved, whatever is true, whatever is
honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is pleasing, whatever
is commendable, if there is any excellence and if there is anything worthy of
praise, think about these things. Keep on doing the things that you have
learned and received and heard and seen in me, and the God of peace will be
with you.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-mirror-indents: yes;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-mirror-indents: yes;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">Some of
us are old enough to remember camp songs. I have never forgotten one. We
gathered round the campfire as our song leader strummed three enthusiastic
chords on the guitar. That’s all the song required. He paused and pointed a
finger at one of the kids and said, "What are you thinking about?"</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-mirror-indents: yes;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">"I'm
thinking about school." So, they sang, "Thinking about school,
school, school. Thinking about school, school, school..."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-mirror-indents: yes;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">"How
about you?" he said, pointing to a young lady. She blushed and said, "I'm
thinking about boys." So, they sang, "Thinking about boys, boys,
boys. Thinking about boys, boys, boys..."</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-mirror-indents: yes;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">"What
about you?" as he pointed to somebody else. “Basketball." They sang,
"Thinking about basketball, basketball, basketball . . ." That was
the point of the song. Whatever was on their minds provided what they began to
sing about.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-mirror-indents: yes;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Today
we hear the apostle Paul break into singing. We know what's on his mind. He
taps his tin cup on the bars of his prison cell and sings, "Thinking about
joy, joy, joy. Thinking about joy, joy, joy...” Or to put it in his words, “Rejoice
in the Lord always; again I say, Rejoice!"</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-mirror-indents: yes;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">This is
one of striking details of his letter to the Philippians, Paul keeps talking,
singing, and thinking about joy. </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">It
happens at least 12 times in the four short chapters of this document. Joy bubbles
out of his soul, despite his circumstances.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-mirror-indents: yes;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">And
there are plenty of circumstances. Most likely, he's an old man near the end of
his travels. He is a prisoner of the Empire, deprived of basic necessities, and
separated from those he loved. There is troubling news from the small congregation
that he loved so deeply. In his absence, rival evangelists had invaded the
church. “Beware of those dogs,” he says. Not only that, but there’s also an
argument in fellowship hall between Euodia and Syntyche, whoever they were.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-mirror-indents: yes;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Yet
rather abruptly Paul interrupts himself to sing, "Rejoice in the Lord
always; again I say, Rejoice!"<br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" />
<!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-mirror-indents: yes;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">We
cannot escape the extraordinary character of the author of this letter.
Pondering the uncertainty of his future, he speaks of freedom: "I can die,
I can live, I can see you or stay away: yet in all circumstances, I am
free." Addressing the cracks in the church’s unity, he quotes an old hymn:
"Set your minds on Christ Jesus, who emptied himself for others." Last
week, we heard Paul offer to scrap his own resume. "I'm willing to lose it
all," he said, "if I might be found in Christ Jesus."</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-mirror-indents: yes;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">This is
a most uncommon human being. He sings about joy. He encourages gentleness. He
says, "Don't worry." </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">Then he
offers a benediction: "May the peace of God, which surpasses all
understanding, guard your feelings and your thoughts in Christ Jesus."</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-mirror-indents: yes;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">It
would be sufficient to stop there, don't you think?<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Except Paul is a preacher. He has more to say, even after the
benediction. No sooner does he say "Amen," than he goes on to say
what's really on his mind... because he wants it to be on our minds, too. Let
me paraphrase what he says:</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .2in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .2in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Can you think of anything truthful? Anything honest?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .2in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Can you recall what is righteous? Remember what is
pure?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .2in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Do you have a sense of what is lovely or reputable?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .2in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Can you imagine a virtuous action? Can you think of a
good deed?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .2in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">If so, wrap your brain around these things!"</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">At first, this
sounds like a healthy dose of positive thinking. Look on the bright side. Keep
your chin up. Turn that frown upside down - and all those familiar cliches. You
can probably think of a few more. It’s a well-worn strategy to counter the
negativity, and there’s so much of that. That toxic cloud can roll into any
situation.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Somebody told me
about going to a family reunion, the first reunion in a dozen years. The meal
was tasty and a little bit fattening. The conversation was full of memories and
laughter. But then the conversation moved on to the front porch and the family
began to play a game. Bob said the game was called, “Ain’t it awful?” Maybe you’ve
been privy to the game. It’s played by reciting a series of questions:</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-mirror-indents: yes;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">"Ain't
it awful about Cousin Tom?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-mirror-indents: yes;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">"Ain't
it awful about the steel plant closing down?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-mirror-indents: yes;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Ain’t
it awful our new car turned out to be a lemon?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-mirror-indents: yes;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">Twenty
minutes of that and all the pleasant feelings of the reunion had been snuffed
out. “Ain’t it awful.” This is what was on their minds. Not the joy of being
together, not the memories they shared, not the hopes common to every breathing
soul, but a well-worn list of grumbles. Awful, indeed.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">When Paul
addresses the Philippians, it sounds like he’s pointing over their heads, as if
to say, “Look up!” He could complain as loudly as anyone but chooses not to do
so. He could write to say, “Here in prison, the food is lousy, the bed is hard,
the guards are brutal, the rules are oppressive, the people in charge are
non-responsive. Ain’t it awful?” But he doesn’t go there. At least, not in this
letter.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Some students of
this letter believe Paul is appealing to the intellectual heritage of his
listeners. If you’re from Philippi, you are ankle deep in the thinking of the
great Greek philosophers. Plato, Aristotle, and the rest spent a lot of mental
energy exploring the great virtues of the universe. “The truth is always
dangling above our heads,” said Plato. Down here, all we see are dull shadows
and thin representations. But if we pursue the truth, the real truth, it can free
us from the mortal ills that come from being human.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">No doubt, then, if
a few of the Macedonian minds in Philippi nodded in agreement when the apostle
appeals to the true, the honorable, the just and pure. “Isn’t that the
intellectual quest for all of us?” they said. Don’t invest in the illusions of
this shadow world. Look beyond them. Penetrate through them. Pursue the wisdom
hidden from casual observers. Search for the truth.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Noble thoughts, to
be sure. Except that the truth is precisely that the food is lousy, the bed is
hard, the guards are brutal, and all the rest. And there’s precious little in
Paul’s present circumstances that could be construed as commendable, excellent,
or worthy of praise. Philosophical thinking can ease human pain only so much. I
can say that with authenticity since I was a philosophy major in college. Plato
was no help when I had a roommate who snored. Aristotle taught me nothing to
improve my undergraduate love life. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-mirror-indents: yes;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Certainly,
Paul is raising his sights. At the end of each of his letters, he loves to give
advice. That’s what he is doing here in chapter four. Earlier in the letter, he
told his friends, “Don’t worry about me.” In the middle of the letter, he said,
“Think about others, and not only about yourselves.” As he begins to sum up his
thoughts, he reveals his own deep spiritual training. He won’t be sidetracked
by the small stuff or the temporary difficulties. He will stay focused on the
matters that count most.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-mirror-indents: yes;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">This is
good advice. What are you thinking about these days? Whatever occupies our
spirits will shape who we are. If we lose a day watching mindless television
shows, it does something to us – it takes something away. If we’re constantly
tapping our phones, we risk losing connections to those at the dinner table. If
all we do is worry, worry will shrink us.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-mirror-indents: yes;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">By
contrast, I remember a remarkable Presbyterian who brewed a cup of coffee and
memorized three psalms every morning. That was his breakfast. That was his
spiritual discipline. And he explained, “If I ever lose my memory, I want
something else to be there.” A deep reservoir of scripture filled his mind.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-mirror-indents: yes;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Sometimes
it happens by repetition without us realizing. The father of a friend did lose
his memory. Alzheimer’s Disease erased his mental blackboard. But when the
carolers came by at Christmas, he knew all the words to every carol and sang
along. They had been engraved upon his soul by way of his mind.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-mirror-indents: yes;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">His
mind. Did you notice that Paul is always talking about the mind? He encourages
his friends to “have the same mind.” He says his opponents “set their minds on
earthly things.” Most important, Paul says, “Have the mind of Christ.” And that
gives me a hunch about what is most on his own mind. What matters most to Paul
is not Paul. As distracting as they might be, he is not fretting over his
troubles. As much as he loves the Philippians, his favorite church, he does not
think obsessively about them.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-mirror-indents: yes;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">No, he
has already told us: Christ Jesus is of “surpassing value.” There’s nobody more
important than him. He is the One who is true, honorable, just, pure, pleasing,
commendable, excellent, and worthy of praise. This is the One who did not
regard equality with God as something be exploited, but emptied himself in
service, giving himself for world in need. This is how Jesus thought. How he
still thinks. There isn’t anything more excellent than that. Paul says, “If
there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things.” They will
sustain your joy.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-mirror-indents: yes;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">My
first trip to Scranton was in the fall of 1986. The Presbyterians gathered in a
big church downtown to welcome the Rev. Benjamin Weir as their guest. Ben and
his wife Carol had served as mission workers in Lebanon. One day in Beirut, Ben
was abducted by terrorists and kept in captivity. He was held as a prisoner for
16 months. Just like the apostle Paul.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-mirror-indents: yes;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">We
strained forward to listen to his story. At first, he admitted his fear, even
his despair. Yet he held onto a verse from the book of Proverbs: “Trust in the
Lord with all your heart, and do not rely on your own insight. In all your ways
acknowledge (the Lord) and he will make straight your paths (3:5-6).” The more
he recited that verse, the more he noticed in his cell.</span></p><div><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div><ul style="margin-top: 0in;" type="disc"><li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; mso-mirror-indents: yes;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The
chain that bound him to the radiator was a reminder that he was bound to
Christ.<o:p></o:p></span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; mso-mirror-indents: yes;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The
light bulb on a strand of wire resembled Michelangelo’s painting in the
Sistine Chapel, of God reaching out to spark Adam with life.<o:p></o:p></span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; mso-mirror-indents: yes;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Two
electrical outlets with plastic covers reminded him of the ears of God who
hears our cries.<o:p></o:p></span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; mso-mirror-indents: yes;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Three
pegs on the wall recalled the Holy Trinity.<o:p></o:p></span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; mso-mirror-indents: yes;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The
French doors in his room were full of slats, almost too many to count,
resembled the cloud of witnesses, those saints both living and dead who
knew the faithfulness of God first-hand.<o:p></o:p></span></li>
</ul>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-mirror-indents: yes;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">On and
on, his imagination kept spinning as he looked around the room, correlating
common things with the virtues of a God who loves us. Sixteen months later, Ben
Weir emerged mentally intact, spiritually fit, emotionally grounded. A reporter
asked, "Rev. Weir, how did you survive sixteen months of captivity without
falling apart?</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-mirror-indents: yes;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">Ben answered,
"I guess it depends on what you spend your days thinking about."</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-mirror-indents: yes;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-mirror-indents: yes;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">(c) William G. Carter. All rights reserved.</span></p>presbybophttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17551073066437287094noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1154081749139966522.post-75572071115143311112023-10-14T23:10:00.001-04:002023-10-14T23:10:31.583-04:00Who Do You Think You Are?Philippians 3:4(b)-14 <br />October 15, 2023<br />William G. Carter <br /><br />
<p style="background: white; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .2in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span style="color: #010000;">If anyone else has reason to be
confident in the flesh, I have more: circumcised on the eighth day, a
member of the people of Israel, of the tribe of Benjamin, a Hebrew born of
Hebrews; as to the law, a Pharisee; as to zeal, a persecutor of the
church; as to righteousness under the law, blameless. Yet whatever gains I
had, these I have come to regard as loss because of Christ. More than
that, I regard everything as loss because of the surpassing value of knowing
Christ Jesus my Lord. For his sake I have suffered the loss of all things, and
I regard them as rubbish, in order that I may gain Christ and be found in him,
not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but one that comes
through faith in Christ, the righteousness from God based on faith. I want
to know Christ and the power of his resurrection and the sharing of his
sufferings by becoming like him in his death, if somehow I may attain the
resurrection from the dead. Not that I have already obtained this or have
already reached the goal; but I press on to make it my own, because Christ
Jesus has made me his own. Beloved, I do not consider that I have made it
my own; but this one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and straining
forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of
the heavenly call of God in Christ Jesus.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">Back in junior
high school, the English teacher offered advice about writing. She said, "When
you compose a paragraph, never use the word 'I' more than once." It's bad
form. It leads to sloppy syntax. Most of all, it puts you in the center of
attention, which is a problematic place to be. These days, this is
counter-cultural counsel. In so many places around the neighborhood, there is
an overemphasis on me, myself, and I.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The advice about
writing paragraphs was amplified when it came to personal correspondence. "When
you write a letter,” she said, “never use the word 'I' more than once in the entire
letter." You are corresponding. It’s two-sided communication, and your
side must not come off as overbearing. When people open a letter from you, they
don’t want to read, "I did this, I did that, I vacationed here, I ate a
fabulous meal there.” This might be good advice if any of us compose a letter
for the holidays, namely, “Don’t write the kind of Christmas letter that you
wouldn’t want to receive. Me, myself, and I. It’s bad form.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The Apostle Paul
didn't have Mrs. Davis for 8th grade English class. If he did, he wouldn't have
written the paragraph we have heard today. Every sentence begins with the word
"I. "I have confidence. I have more. I have gains. I have losses. I
have suffered. I want to know. I press on." Every sentence, the I’s have
it. If we didn't know better, Paul wants the spotlight on him.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Like the story
that a preaching professor tells. After visiting a church to preach a sermon, he
was chatting in the back of the sanctuary with a few people. A deacon was
tidying up the pews. Her son was playing around her. He ran up and down the
aisles, then around the chancel. Then he climbed up in the pulpit and - BOOM -
discovered the microphone was still on. "Hey everybody!" he yelled.
"I'm the preacher! Look at me! Look at me!" Somebody murmured to my
friend, "I think we’ve heard that sermon before."</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Paul says, "I
have confidence. I have gains. I have losses." Look at me! And what do we
see? Three things.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">We see a man born
with a lot of privileges, first off. He has been born into the chosen people of
God. He didn’t choose his birthright. It was given to him as a gift. “Let me
tell you about them,” he said. Born into the twelfth tribe of Israel, the tribe
of Benjamin. His blood is one hundred percent Hebrew. Circumcised on the eighth
day, received into the covenant as every Jewish son. He didn’t choose that,
either. It was a gift, as any of us who are born with privileges.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Second, he has
plenty of accomplishments. “Let me tell you about all the things I’ve gotten
done in my life.” Went to the academy to study Scripture, memorized all the parts
that a faithful believer needs to know. Taught to interpret the Bible, and defend
the truth, and teach others how to live by the Word of God. “I spent a lot of time
engraving the commandments of God onto my soul. I expended even more energy
getting those commandments embodied in the way I live.” Paul says, “In every
conceivable way, I have lived by the Book.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">He has privileges,
first, and accomplishments, second. And third, do you know what those
privileges and accomplishments are worth? Absolutely nothing. “Look at my
garbage can,” he tells us. “I’ve thrown my privileges away. My accomplishments
smell like the stuff you scrape from the bottom of your shoes.” It’s all gone.
It has no value. Paul says, “I’ve thrown it all away”. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Now, pause here a
second and ask with me, what’s going on in this man? Perhaps it’s the fact he currently
resides in a prison. Paul the Privileged Achiever is now the grizzled old man
in Cell Block C. Stripped of his scholar’s robe, he wears the striped tunic of
a convict. In addition to that Star of David he wore so proudly around his neck,
there are shackles on his legs that are chained to the wall. What do all the
privileges and accomplishments matter when you are a guest in the emperor’s
dungeon? Not very much.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">…Except he says he
threw it all away. He regards his assets as “rubbish.” Hmm. Perhaps you noticed
that I skipped over a description of one of his “accomplishments.” He puts it
this way, “as to my zeal, I was a persecutor of the church.” That is, “I
thought I was doing the right thing, and I was wrong.” <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">This is the
terrible truth of the man which lies close to all his bravado. Paul the Over
Achiever and Super Believer had grown furious with some of his fellow Jews. They
said the Messiah had come; he did not believe it. They said this man Jesus had
been crucified; Paul knew what it says in his Bible, that anyone hung up on a
tree is cursed by God. They said this cursed Jesus was alive again, and Paul said
that cannot happen. With the conviction that came from his privileges and
accomplishments, he decided to get rid of these Jesus Believers once and for
all. Wipe them off the face of the earth!</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">You may remember what
happened. Riding his way to the pogrom, a Bright Light blinded him. And the
Bright Light spoke to say, “I am Jesus, whom you are persecuting.” Suddenly,
all that Paul believed that he was, all that Paul had given years to
accomplish, all of that did not matter very much. “I regard it all as loss,” he
says, “in order that Christ Jesus would find me.” Lost and found.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">I don’t know if
you’ve ever lost it all. Or ever lost a good bit of what you had. It is not a
pleasant experience. Those of us who have been through it say it tastes like
chewing on charcoal. Everything you presumed, gone. Everything you worked for, falling
through your fingers. Everything you thought was right, interrupted. Everything
you believed was your strength, doesn’t count for much anymore. The loss can be
traumatic.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Yet for Paul, this
was the beginning of wisdom, holy wisdom. In losing everything, he found
Christ. Or better stated, Christ found him. This is the truth of the Gospel: when
everything you have is swept off the table, Jesus Christ is still there for
you. With searing honesty, you can confess it’s not about the blessings and
advantages that came from my birth; it’s about the holy and generous life to
which Christ calls me. It’s not about the greatness of my personal
achievements; it’s about the saving love of Christ who does for us what we
cannot. He redeems us, a technical term referring to buying someone out of
their slavery. In this case, slavery to themselves.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">So, when Paul says
to the Philippians, “I – I – I, he’s really saying Christ, Christ, Christ.” The
overachiever gives up and lets God forgive him. That’s how can say, “Look at my
incredible zeal – I was persecuting the church of God.” He puts it right out
there, a continuing confession of how wrong he was, and how gracious God is. He
comes to the conviction that what matters is not who we are, nor what we've
done. No, what matters is the far-surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus rules
over us with hands once punctured by our own nails.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">That's the essence
of the Gospel, of course, but it's still a tough pill to swallow. This is a
high achievement town, full of generally good-hearted people who work hard and
reach high. We push our children to do well, to step up, to climb the ladder. If
they stumble or fall, we feel embarrassed and suffer in silence. I can’t count how
many kids soar out of here, only to have their wax wings melt, perhaps transfer
to a much lesser school, slip out of contact for a while, or worse.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Some time back, I
reconnected with one of our confirmation graduates and asked, “What have you
been up to?” She said, “Got out of rehab about six months ago. Opiates, needles.”
Last thing I expected her to say, so I tried to shift gears quickly. She
stopped me and said, “No, it’s OK, Rev. Really, it’s OK. I hit bottom, and for
the first time in ten years, I got real. Couldn’t have gotten through it
without Jesus and his grace.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">I paused, didn’t
know what to say. I never do. She touched my arm. “For me, it’s day by day. Every
day. And I feel alive like I didn’t before.” Now, there’s somebody who was lost
but is found.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Charles Cousar,
who taught New Testament at Columbia Seminary, says we are close to the true
shape of the Christian life. When Paul says, “I want to know Christ,” Dr.
Cousar says this is not a matter of acquiring information or developing a
particular mindset. It’s not developing an imaginary friendship, nor engaging
in a mystical vision, nor an ability to recount a lot of Bible stories. To “know
Christ” is to affirm our whole lives are shaped by death and resurrection.<a href="file:///C:/Users/presb/Dropbox/Sermons/2023%20Sermons/2023%20Sermons%20-%20Who%20Do%20You%20Think%20You%20Are.doc#_ftn1" name="_ftnref1" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn1;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-font-kerning: 1.0pt;">[1]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></span></a> We lose what we once believed
was our greatest strength. We gain in Christ what we can never achieve by
ourselves. We die to our passions, our urges, our obsessions. We are raised by
his grace.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">It’s just like the
early church and how they practiced the sacrament of baptism. Those baptized went
down into the water, literally buried in the water. Then they were lifted up,
reborn, renewed, and dressed in a new white gown to show that the powers of
death had no dominion over them. Death and resurrection. Knowing Christ. It is
the great mystery of our lives, lives that are woven by grace to the eternal life
of Jesus.</span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Last
year, we lost Frederick Buechner, the great spiritual writer. Long before his
twilight years, he told us about his understanding of Christian experience:</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText" style="margin-left: .3in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">We find by losing. We hold fast by letting
go. We become something new by ceasing to be something old. This seems to be
close to the heart of the mystery. I know no more now than I ever did about the
far side of death as the last letting-go of all, but I begin to know that I do
not need to know and that I do not need to be afraid of not knowing. God knows.
That is all that matters. Out of Nothing God creates Something. Out of the End (God)
creates the Beginning … All's lost. All's found.<a href="file:///C:/Users/presb/Dropbox/Sermons/2023%20Sermons/2023%20Sermons%20-%20Who%20Do%20You%20Think%20You%20Are.doc#_ftn2" name="_ftnref2" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn2;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-font-kerning: 1.0pt;">[2]</span></span></span></span></a></span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“I
want to know this,” says Paul. “I have lost what I once treasured and gained
even more. I’ve had a taste of all of it, but not quite the whole thing. So, I
press on. And the one thing I know: I make Christ Jesus my own because he has claimed
me as his own.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoPlainText"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Who
did I think I am? Can’t remember. Now I belong to Christ.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<div style="mso-element: footnote-list;"><br /></div><div style="mso-element: footnote-list;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]-->(c) William G. Carter. All rights reserved.<br clear="all" />
<hr align="left" size="1" width="33%" />
<!--[endif]-->
<div id="ftn1" style="mso-element: footnote;">
<p class="MsoFootnoteText"><a href="file:///C:/Users/presb/Dropbox/Sermons/2023%20Sermons/2023%20Sermons%20-%20Who%20Do%20You%20Think%20You%20Are.doc#_ftnref1" name="_ftn1" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn1;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Calibri",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-font-kerning: 1.0pt;">[1]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></span></a><span style="font-size: 8.0pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;">Charles
B. Cousar, <i>A Theology of the Cross</i> (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1990)
160-161.</span><o:p></o:p></p>
</div>
<div id="ftn2" style="mso-element: footnote;">
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><a href="file:///C:/Users/presb/Dropbox/Sermons/2023%20Sermons/2023%20Sermons%20-%20Who%20Do%20You%20Think%20You%20Are.doc#_ftnref2" name="_ftn2" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn2;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-font-kerning: 1.0pt;">[2]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></span></span></a><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 10.0pt;"> Frederick
Buechner, "All's Lost - All's Found," <i>A Room Called Remember</i>
(San Francisco: Harper & Row, 1984) 189-90.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
</div>
</div>presbybophttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17551073066437287094noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1154081749139966522.post-82732233970145655772023-10-07T22:06:00.004-04:002023-10-07T22:06:56.966-04:00Side By Side<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .2in;"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;">Philippians 2:19-30 <br />October 8, 2023 <br />William G. Carter</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .2in;"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;"><span style="color: #010000;"><span style="background-color: white;"><i>I hope in the Lord Jesus to send Timothy to you soon, so that
I may be cheered by news of you. I have no one like him who will be
genuinely concerned for your welfare. All of them are seeking their own
interests, not those of Jesus Christ. But Timothy’s worth you know, how
like a son with a father he has served with me in the work of the gospel. I
hope therefore to send him as soon as I see how things go with me; and I
trust in the Lord that I will also come soon. <o:p></o:p></i></span></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .2in;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #010000;"><i>Still, I think it necessary to send to you Epaphroditus—my
brother and co-worker and fellow soldier, your messenger and minister to my
need; for he has been longing for all of you, and has been distressed
because you heard that he was ill. He was indeed so ill that he nearly
died. But God had mercy on him, and not only on him but on me also, so that I
would not have one sorrow after another. I am the more eager to send him,
therefore, in order that you may rejoice at seeing him again, and that I may be
less anxious. Welcome him then in the Lord with all joy, and honor such
people, because he came close to death for the work of Christ, risking his
life to make up for those services that you could not give me.</i></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .2in;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #010000;"><i><br /></i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background-color: white; color: #010000;">Let me begin by
admitting an insider secret from my line of work: not every scripture text
lends itself easily to a sermon. Maybe some of you think a preacher’s task is easy. Open the Bible and let the words fall out. Once in a while, that could
happen. But not often.</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #010000;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: #010000;">I like to work
ahead. The second week in May, I start planning my sermons for the whole next
year. By the first of June, the worship committee gets an Excel spreadsheet
from me. There are titles and topics. The musicians begin picking their music. Two
of our great volunteers start selecting some of the hymns. And I’ll say, “Oh,
Philippians – we haven’t looked at that letter for a while. Let’s do that.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: #010000;">And then in October
I get to these two paragraphs in chapter two and wonder, “What was I thinking?”
The text seemed so promising when I took an initial glance. At sermon writing
time, that pleasant little text is sticking out its tongue, as if to say, “You
aren’t getting anything out of me.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: #010000;">When that
happens, perhaps the preacher is not in a frame of mind to see what’s hiding in
the text. Or maybe it will take a while to find something helpful to share. The
Bible is infinitely interesting, but not always obviously so. Once in a while,
hopeful on rare occasions, there simply isn’t much there.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: #010000;">For instance, you
don’t hear me preach a lot of sermons from the book of Proverbs. Here is a proverb from Proverbs 15: “The eyes of the Lord are in every place, keeping watch on
the evil and the good.” Can we get an eighteen-minute sermon out of that? Not
sure. Proverbs are wise one-liners discerned from life experiences. They are conclusions,
not stories. Put a proverb into the air and it will shut down conversation.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background-color: white; color: #010000;">Or the opening
two or three chapters of the Old Testament book of Numbers. Moses takes a
census of the tribes of Israel. Perhaps you came to church today to learn there
were 151,450 people in the camp of Reuben (Numbers 2:15), but I’m going to guess the
people around you will start to slip out when we start reciting their names.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background-color: white; color: #010000;">So, I am sure
you were listening when I read today’s text. Paul is sharing the travel plans of
two men we do not know. “I hope to send Timothy to you,” he says. “And I know
you were worried about Epaphroditus. All of us were worried. He was in bad
shape, almost didn’t make it. But he wants to return. I want him to go. And
maybe I will get back to see all of you sometime.” That’s the text for today. Travel
plans. Can you get a sermon out of that?</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: #010000;">Next month, I
have a church meeting at headquarters, so I am flying out to Louisville. As the
plans developed, I learned I’d have a bit of free time. Two friends live out there,
so I dropped them a note: “My flight gets in early. How about grabbing some
lunch?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Terry responded, “Sounds great. I
will pick you up from the hotel and we will find something interesting to eat.
Can’t wait to see you again.” Now, can anybody make a sermon out of that? I don’t
know.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: #010000;">We are reminded
once again that, before the letters of Paul were ever considered scripture,
they were letters, handwritten notes to keep in touch, to share information, to
express concern, to connect with one another. In the first century, nobody
picked up the phone or logged on for a Zoom meeting. They didn’t send e-mails
or text messages. They sent notes, usually with someone who was traveling in
that direction.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: #010000;">Paul is in jail;
Timothy is with him. Epaphroditus arrived with a letter from the Philippians.
The journey almost killed him, but he had to get there. He was bringing a gift
of money from the church to assist Paul. Today, Paul is writing to say he is
sending Epaphroditus back home. As we will hear later in the letter, he wants
to express his gratitude. “Thank you for the gift.” But is that all that’s
going on? No, there’s more.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: #010000;">The longer I
lingered over this little travelogue, the more I began to notice. “I hope in the
Lord Jesus to send Timothy to you,” Paul says. “There’s nobody else like him.
He cares about all of you – and I love him like a son.” Now, that is
interesting, maybe. Love, concern, care – this is more than a simple itinerary.
This is a note from a Christian who is deeply connected to other Christians. He
offers his heart to those people.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: #010000;">Think of the
correspondence that we send and receive. It doesn’t always function at that
level. Yesterday, I paid two bills and put them in the mail. Purely transactional.
I didn’t tell the lawn mower repairman that I love him like a son. At the same
time, the Fed Ex man delivered a set of Christmas cards that we created from a
good picture of our family. The Fed Ex guy did not ask, “Can I wait here and take
a look when you open the package?”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: #010000;">Take note of
the subtle difference. Paul is connected – connected to his friends, connected
to his fellow Christians. There is a deeper level of engagement. This letter is
more than a letter.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: #010000;">Listen to what
he calls Epaphroditus. Three words to describe his relationship: he is “my fellow
soldier” for the Gospel, not a military term per se, but recognition that the
two of them serve in the same spiritual battalion. They serve on the same team.
They are united in the same purpose.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: #010000;">And then, Paul calls
him, “my fellow worker.” The word is “synergos” – “syn” means “together,” like “synagogue,”
the word for an assembly. And “ergos,” the word for work or energy. “We work
together,” says the apostle, “side by side we serve.” There is no hierarchy
here; the two of them are united in what they do. This is one of Paul’s
favorite words for describing his companions.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: #010000;">And then, one
of Paul’s favorite words of all: he is my “brother.” Even though they are not
related by blood, there is a family bond between them. It is affection, but
more than affection. They share in the life of Christ. They are bound to one
another. They share the same work, but more than that, they share the same
heart.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: #010000;">Let me pause to
recognize what we are seeing here. What looked at first appearance as a rather
dull segment of an ancient letter is revealing something far richer. These
people are knit together in a web, a community, a system of relationships. Whatever
they believe about God and Christ and Spirit is expressed in the way they are
living with and for one another. Faith for them is not a bullet point list of
ideas; it is a life lived with love and support. Faith is embodied by real
people who show real concern for one another.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: #010000;">Have you seen
it? Yes, and we know it when we see it. One of the remarkable gifts of our
family of faith is the way we handle funerals. Maybe there are other churches
that do what you do; all I know is what you do. We offer a luncheon, free of
charge, for anybody who would find that helpful. No charge, no time limit, no
shortage of home baked cakes and cookies. And there are plenty of volunteers to
prepare, serve, and clean up. If the family wants to pay for the meal, it’s my
job to say, “Thank you, but this meal is a gift for you and your loved ones.” If
they insist, I suggest they contribute to the next meal for somebody else. Pay
it forward, but under no obligation to do so.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: #010000;">And what
happens? A church family feeds and eats together. Everybody is regarded as
brother, sister, sibling, cousin, crazy uncle, whatever. Something happens in
the shared experience that we cannot quite describe. Some of us don’t quite have
the words for it – which means it is the work of the Holy Spirit. God is forging
a new community out of people who used to be strangers. Christ is here, present
somehow.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: #010000;">At one of the
recent funeral luncheons, a family member pulled me aside to say, “I’ve never
seen anything like this, especially in a church.” She was stunned by the high
level of love and support that all of you showed her. She did not have the
words. Neither do I.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: #010000;">But we have the
apostle Paul’s words: “fellow soldier,” “synergos” – fellow worker, “brother” –
“sister” – family. I tell you when we discover we are part of the household of
faith, this is the work of God, Christ, Spirit, the Word, the Gospel. We can
marvel at it. We can thank God for it. Most of all, we can stay at it and
spread the love around.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: #010000;">I will say it
again. The Gospel is not a list of ideas. It is faith embodied by real people.
They translate the big words of grace, providence, justice, and compassion into
specific acts of holy love. That is how the Gospel is work. And it is the power
of God to transform the world.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: black;">Meanwhile, I return to where I
began: not every Bible text opens up into a sermon. I wish that we the case,
but we always must wait for the Spirit. Sometimes we have to sit with the Bible
open, linger for a while, and hope that God says something. From experience, I
can tell you that’s true.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: black;">And I will tell you what I also
believe to be true: </span>you may be the only sermon that some people ever
see.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">(c) William G. Carter. All rights reserved.</p>presbybophttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17551073066437287094noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1154081749139966522.post-52594987976366202832023-09-30T21:22:00.004-04:002023-09-30T21:26:43.630-04:00Of the Same Mind<p><span style="font-size: medium;">Philippians 2:1-13 <br />World Communion <br />October 1, 2023<br />William G. Carter </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /><span style="background-color: white; color: #010000;"><i>If then
there is any encouragement in Christ, any consolation from love, any sharing in
the Spirit, any compassion and sympathy, make my joy complete: be of the
same mind, having the same love, being in full accord and of one mind. Do
nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility regard others as
better than yourselves. Let each of you look not to your own interests, but
to the interests of others. Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ
Jesus, who,</i></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-left: 0.2in;"><span style="color: #010000; font-size: medium;"><i>though he was in the form of God, did not regard
equality with God as something to be exploited, but emptied himself, taking the
form of a slave, being born in human likeness. And being found in human form, he
humbled himself and became obedient to the point of death— even death on a
cross. Therefore God also highly exalted him and gave him the name that is
above every name, so that at the name of Jesus every knee should bend, in
heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue should confess that
Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.</i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;"><span style="color: #010000; font-size: medium;"><i>Therefore,
my beloved, just as you have always obeyed me, not only in my presence, but
much more now in my absence, work out your own salvation with fear and
trembling; for it is God who is at work in you, enabling you both to will
and to work for his good pleasure.<o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">Will Willimon, Methodist preacher and raconteur, was
reminiscing about the first church he ever served. It was a little one room
building, a bit outside of town. He thought it might be a good idea to drive
out there ahead of time, look around, and get the lay of the land. He contacted
one of the church leaders and set up a time to meet. When the day arrived, he
got in the car and drove out to Friendship Methodist Church.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">Yes, that was the name of the congregation: Friendship
Methodist Church. Will says it was a misnomer, if there ever was one.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">He arrived before his host, which was a good thing. He was
surprised to find a huge padlock and chain barring the front door. When the lay
leader arrived, Will said, “I’m glad you are here to open the lock on the door.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Oh, that ain’t our lock,” said the lay leader. “The sheriff
put that there. Things got rough here at the meeting last month. Folks started
yelling at one another. One opened the trunk of his car and put in a box of
silverware that his mother had donated to the kitchen. Somebody else tried to
cart off some furniture they had given.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">“It got so bad,” said the man, “that I called the sheriff,
and he came out here and put that lock on the door until the new preacher could
get here and settle ‘em down.” He paused, looked at Will, and said, “We’re glad
you are here. Welcome to Friendship Methodist Church.”<a href="file:///C:/Users/presb/Dropbox/Sermons/2023%20Sermons/2023%20Sermons%20-%20Of%20the%20Same%20Mind.doc#_ftn1" name="_ftnref1" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn1;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">[1]</span></span></span></span></a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">Now, I do have to say, as churches go, you are remarkably
well behaved. The silverware stays in the drawer. The furniture remains where
it belongs. Yet this is a very human community. It’s like any other human
community. There are diverse perspectives, different opinions, and a
multiplicity of life experiences. The fact that we can gather under one roof
without calling in the sheriff is a Christian miracle.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">We don’t know what First Church Philippi was arguing about,
but it must have been something. From the scant information we have, that
little congregation was Paul’s favorite. He initiated that fellowship. He told
them how much he loved them. Given his repeated run-ins with the powers and
principalities, they were the only ones who paid attention to his troubles and
sent him a financial gift. He’s grateful and he tells them so.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">But something’s going on. We’re not sure what it is. Perhaps
the preachers who followed him pointed out his deficiencies; every preacher has
them. There is evidence that he had opponents, specifically those who disagreed
with his emphasis on grace; there are always good-hearted religious people who
struggle when God shows too much grace (you heard a sermon about that last week!).</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">And bless their hearts, two women were bickering with one
another, to the point that he writes down their names from 300 miles away,
forever immortalizing their argument in the pages of the New Testament. It’s
there in chapter 4: “Tell Euodia and Syntyche to agree in the Lord” (4:2). Stop
fighting. Knock it off. Probably not on the order of padlocking the sanctuary,
but you know arguments can get out of hand.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">Maybe you’ve been watching the circus in Washington as the
Congress tries to keep their own lights on. Regardless of how we vote, we
perceive a battle of egos, a contest with implicit threats, and unserious people
who do a whole lot of grandstanding. It’s almost as harsh as some family skirmishes
at the Thanksgiving table. Grievances long nursed bubble up for one more round.
Somebody gets hurt. And for what possible benefit?</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">So, Paul clears his throat and writes a second page to the
Philippians. “Do you have any encouragement in Christ?” he asks. “Have you all
experienced any consolation from love?” “Are you sharing in the Spirit? Do you
experience any compassion and sympathy?” The questions dangle out there – and one
by one, the church folk nod their heads.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">There was that phone call that came at just the right time.
That casserole Euodia dropped off when Mom died. That hug Syntyche gave me when
my troubled son didn’t make it home. That spiritual energy I received when the
choir was singing. “Yes, yes, yes,” is the Philippian response. They are
experiencing the Gospel of God even in that imperfect gathering at Friendship
Church.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">With that, Pastor Paul goes to the heart of it: “Have the
same mind.” It’s a curious thing to say. “The same mind?” But there’s
disagreement. We come from different places. We have different minds. So, he
clarifies: “Not your mind. Have the mind of Christ.” Then he bursts into song…</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Have the
mind of Christ Jesus, who was the perfect form of God, <o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>yet he
did not clutch onto that, he did not exploit that, but emptied himself…</span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">It sounds like old Paul is singing to them out of their own
hymnal. Maybe he taught them the song. The scholars tell us, by syntax and
content, this is a perfect hymn to honor Christ Jesus. He was completely with
God but came to us. He gave up any semblance of superiority – which he had
every right to hang onto - and became our servant. He “emptied himself.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">It’s a remarkable turn of phrase: he emptied himself. He
gave himself away. He lost his stature intentionally. And this was not a career
move for him, as in, <i>if you relocate to Podunk for three years, we’ll give
you a promotion</i>. No, no, no – Jesus <u>gave up</u> the glory and <u>that is
his glory</u>. He emptied himself. It’s the only time the New Testament talks
this way, but to hear Paul say it, it’s the point of the whole life of Christ –
and it’s the point of the life in Christ.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">Here's the question for you and me: when do we lose
ourselves? When do we lose all track of time? When are we caught up in
something beyond ourselves? When do we give up everything else for the sake of
something more important. </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span></span>Maybe it’s that great old Welsh hymn and every time
we sing it, you throw back your head and belt it out, even if you’re Italian. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span></span>Maybe it’s that conversation filled with
laughter – or the sympathizing tear. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span></span>Maybe it’s that argument that you decide you don’t
need to win because you love your opponent too much.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span></span>Maybe it’s that quilt you’re stitching for the
homeless, or the sandwich you’re making for the outcast teenager, or that box
of food you packed for the forgotten folks, and it feels so good to do something
for somebody else. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span></span>Maybe it’s that moment when you hold the broken
piece of bread in your hands and realize it really is grace and it has come as
a gift. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span></span>Maybe it’s the insight that comes only from the
Spirit of God, that Jesus-who-is-equal-with-God has emptied himself completely because
he believes the world is worth saving, and you’re worth saving, and so are your
friends and enemies.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">This is the mind of Christ, the self-giving service for the
benefit of everybody else. When we share in that mind, all divisions fade, all
differences cease, as we discover we are part of God’s mission to the world. We
are partners and participants of a good far greater than ourselves. And the
more we think like this, the more such thinking is renewed.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">I like the story that N. T. Wright tells. The former Anglican
bishop of Durham, he was invited to a small banquet, twenty or thirty people of
great importance. Notable, well-known people. When the host offered a blessing
he said, “Remind us, O God, that the most interesting person in the room is the
one we’re sitting next to.” When the blessing concluded with an Amen, Bishop
Wright opened his eyes and discovered the room had changed.<a href="file:///C:/Users/presb/Dropbox/Sermons/2023%20Sermons/2023%20Sermons%20-%20Of%20the%20Same%20Mind.doc#_ftn2" name="_ftnref2" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">[2]</span></span></span></a></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<div style="mso-element: footnote-list;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="mso-element: footnote-list;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]-->(c) William G. Carter. All rights reserved.<br clear="all" />
</span><hr align="left" size="1" width="33%" />
<span style="font-size: medium;"><!--[endif]-->
</span><div id="ftn1" style="mso-element: footnote;">
<p class="MsoFootnoteText"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="file:///C:/Users/presb/Dropbox/Sermons/2023%20Sermons/2023%20Sermons%20-%20Of%20the%20Same%20Mind.doc#_ftnref1" name="_ftn1" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn1;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">[1]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></span></a> Will
Willimon, “One in Christ,” preached on Day 1, 2017. Link: <a href="https://day1.org/weekly-broadcast/5d9b820ef71918cdf200416b/will_willimon_one_in_christ">https://day1.org/weekly-broadcast/5d9b820ef71918cdf200416b/will_willimon_one_in_christ</a>
<o:p></o:p></span></p>
</div>
<div id="ftn2" style="mso-element: footnote;">
<p class="MsoFootnoteText"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="file:///C:/Users/presb/Dropbox/Sermons/2023%20Sermons/2023%20Sermons%20-%20Of%20the%20Same%20Mind.doc#_ftnref2" name="_ftn2" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn2;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">[2]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></span></a> N.T.
Wright, <i>Paul for Everyone: The Prison Letters</i> (Louisville: Westminster
John Knox Press, 2002) 99.</span><o:p></o:p></p>
</div>
</div>presbybophttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17551073066437287094noreply@blogger.com0