This past Sunday afternoon, while Betsy, Sam and I were on vacation with my extended family in northern Michigan, we went to a restaurant to watch the final of the World Cup. Allow me emphasize, because a part of me can’t believe that this happened: On a gorgeous afternoon, we left the cottages we were renting on a lakeshore, drove into town, and went inside to watch a soccer game between Spain and the Netherlands, two teams about which we knew next to nothing.
Why did I do it? It was partly because I had missed almost every other World Cup game during my summer class schedule, and partly because it seemed like a memorable afternoon for us to spend with my brothers, and partly because it was the last chance for a World Cup game until 2014, and maybe just a little bit because LeBron James had just announced his departure from Cleveland, and I needed to show that my interests are bigger that local sports.
Soccer is a cool sport. The action is non-stop: no commercials, no huddles, no signals between pitcher and catcher, and hardly any substitutions. These players run almost continuously for the entire ninety minutes of play (and, in this case, the thirty minutes of overtime). The scores may be low, but the action is great. You really just never know when that vital goal is going to be kicked (or headed) past the goalkeeper. Also, although there are star players, soccer seems to be more dependent on teamwork than many other team sports in which star players more easily dominate.
In other words, soccer is a community effort, sustained with steady energy over a long period of time, with only occasional tangible results.
Now, doesn’t that sound like our lives? A community effort, sustained by steady energy for a logn time with only occasional tangible results. Doesn’t that sound like raising children, or improving living conditions, or overcoming prejudice? It sounds to me like the Christian faith. We are a community, sustaining energy in our worship, our service, and our spiritual growth. It is a lifelong journey, and only occasionally do we reach those thin places where we catch a glimpse of God, where we enter into mystical communion with the divine. In the meantime, isn't it great to be on the field?
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
Sermon - The Call of Wisdom
Preached on Trinity Sunday, May 30, 2010 at First Congregational Church of Tallmadge, UCC
Proverbs 8:1-4, 22-32
John 16:12-15
Dedicated to the new High School Graduates of this congregation; and always to the glory of God.
Do you remember Robert Fulghum, the Unitarian minister who wrote that book called Everything I Need To Know I Learned In Kindergarten? Here is what he wrote in that essay about wisdom:
“All I really need to know about how to live and what to do and how to be I learned in kindergarten. Wisdom was not at the top of the graduate-school mountain, but there in the sandpile at Sunday School. These are the things I learned:
Share everything.
Play fair.
Don’t hit people.
Put things back where you found them.
Clean up your own mess.
Don’t take things that aren’t yours.
Say you’re sorry when you hurt somebody. …
Live a balanced life – learn some and think some and draw and paint and sing and dance and play and work every day some.
When you go out into the world, watch out for traffic, hold hands, and stick together.
Be aware of wonder. Remember the little seed in the Styrofoam cup: The roots go down and the plant goes up and nobody really knows how or why, but we are all like that.
Goldfish and hamsters and white mice and even the little seed in the Styrofoam cup – they all die. So do we.” (All I Need To Know I Learned In Kindergarten, p 6-7)
There’s not much there to disagree with, is there? But this wisdom gets complicated. Think of Fulghum’s list in terms of big adult issues like foreign policy and war, the oil spill in the gulf of Mexico, the derivatives, credit-default swaps, and bundled mortgages on Wall Street, the priorities of our nation’s budget, or the priorities of our own budgets. Wisdom seems easier to apply in kindergarten.
In a poetic section of the book of proverbs, wisdom is personified as a woman who partnered with God to create all things in the world. God created wisdom first, and then she assisted God in the creation of everything else. Ever since, she has been standing at the busiest intersections of the world, calling out to all who live. This image suggests to me that our Jewish ancestors saw the world as a place governed and ordered by wisdom, and that this wisdom was a creation of God and a gift to the world. Now, this doesn’t mean that if you are wise then everything will always work out for you (see the book of Job to dispel that misguided idea). It just means that wisdom is the principle of creation, and it is available to everyone.
You don’t have to be smart to have wisdom. You don’t have to be educated, or know a lot, to be wise. This is a strange thing to say on a day when we are giving thanks for education as a gift from God. Today we celebrate our high school graduates, and we offer our support for higher education. But there is a difference between wisdom and knowledge. You can be wise without being smart or knowing a lot of things. And you be smart and educated without being wise. We value education because we want the tools of knowledge to be wielded by people who also have wisdom. Some of the best, most creative and innovative works have been done by smart, well educated people. But the most awful, destructive things have also been done by smart, well educated people. Education is not, in itself, a promise of wisdom.
The call of wisdom is a message to all who live. You don’t have to be approved to receive it; you don’t have to travel to a holy shrine, or discover ancient scriptures in a desert cave, or attend secret ceremonies to receive it. You don’t even need to belong to a certain religion to receive it.
This past Monday, the New York Times published a column written by the Dalai Lama, the leader of Tibetan Buddhism, who lives in exile in India. He wrote about how people of all faiths have discovered the same wisdom of living with compassion. When he was young, he used to think that Buddhism was the only religion with wisdom, but as an adult he met with people like the Catholic monk Thomas Merton, and talked about the centrality of compassion in both Christianity and Buddhism. He wrote about similar conversations with Jews and Hindus…and Muslims – Muslims who point out that in the Koran, the very name for God is the “Compassionate and Merciful.”
God’s wisdom calls out to all people. She speaks to us about what we choose to value, how we shape our relationships, and how we live in the world with compassion. Wisdom is available to everyone because it is woven right into the act of creation. And wisdom is simple enough to be distilled from what we learn in Kindergarten. So…what gives? If wisdom is so obvious, why do we so often live foolishly, rather than wisely? Why do we so often live with self-centeredness instead of compassion? Why do we live with bitterness rather than wonder? When you put the choices like that, they seem like no-brainers. No one wakes up in the morning and says “today I’d really like to be foolish, selfish, and bitter. That seems like a good way to spend the day.”
But let’s put the questions differently, and see how they sound. Why do we so often choose what is easy instead of what is difficult? Why do we so often try to fit in, instead of acting from our convictions? Why do we live in a way that makes us feel safe and secure, rather than living in a way that faces our fears and self-doubt with courage, even if we aren’t sure of the outcome?
Doesn’t it turn out that God’s wisdom takes us away from lives that are easy, comfortable, and secure? No wonder we have trouble with it.
Wisdom is not something we can learn one day in kindergarten and master over the weekend, certainly not on our own, anyway. We need help. In the gospel according to John, Jesus is speaking with his disciples on their last night together before his death, and he says to them “I still have many things to say to you, but you cannot bear them now. When the Spirit of truth comes, he will guide you into all truth.” Could this mean that wisdom (what Jesus called truth) is a process, something that we aren’t ready for all at once? Could it mean that we don’t have to achieve wisdom all on our own?
As Jesus said to the disciples, so God says to us: receive the Spirit of truth, that you may hear the ongoing call of wisdom. Remember that you do not have to do it on your own. Wisdom will be challenging. It will demand all of our attention and energy, and we will need the strength of God working within us. If we were athletes, our coach would tell us that when it comes to wisdom, leave it all on the field; give wisdom everything you’ve got.
The Reverend Frederick Buechner wrote that “the place God calls you to is the place where your deep gladness and the world’s deep hunger meet.” (Beyond Words, p 405) So, to our graduates, our scholars, pursue your interest, in science, the arts, business, religion, health, mechanics, or whatever it may be. Learn all about it, and then match your knowledge and your intelligence to a place where you find the world’s deep hunger.
Remember that our lives are like the seeds we grew in cups as children: our lives are mysterious gifts…and they don’t last forever. God has given us the wisdom we need, so “share everything. Don’t hit people. Clean up your own mess. And when you go out into the world, hold hands and stick together.”
Proverbs 8:1-4, 22-32
John 16:12-15
Dedicated to the new High School Graduates of this congregation; and always to the glory of God.
Do you remember Robert Fulghum, the Unitarian minister who wrote that book called Everything I Need To Know I Learned In Kindergarten? Here is what he wrote in that essay about wisdom:
“All I really need to know about how to live and what to do and how to be I learned in kindergarten. Wisdom was not at the top of the graduate-school mountain, but there in the sandpile at Sunday School. These are the things I learned:
Share everything.
Play fair.
Don’t hit people.
Put things back where you found them.
Clean up your own mess.
Don’t take things that aren’t yours.
Say you’re sorry when you hurt somebody. …
Live a balanced life – learn some and think some and draw and paint and sing and dance and play and work every day some.
When you go out into the world, watch out for traffic, hold hands, and stick together.
Be aware of wonder. Remember the little seed in the Styrofoam cup: The roots go down and the plant goes up and nobody really knows how or why, but we are all like that.
Goldfish and hamsters and white mice and even the little seed in the Styrofoam cup – they all die. So do we.” (All I Need To Know I Learned In Kindergarten, p 6-7)
There’s not much there to disagree with, is there? But this wisdom gets complicated. Think of Fulghum’s list in terms of big adult issues like foreign policy and war, the oil spill in the gulf of Mexico, the derivatives, credit-default swaps, and bundled mortgages on Wall Street, the priorities of our nation’s budget, or the priorities of our own budgets. Wisdom seems easier to apply in kindergarten.
In a poetic section of the book of proverbs, wisdom is personified as a woman who partnered with God to create all things in the world. God created wisdom first, and then she assisted God in the creation of everything else. Ever since, she has been standing at the busiest intersections of the world, calling out to all who live. This image suggests to me that our Jewish ancestors saw the world as a place governed and ordered by wisdom, and that this wisdom was a creation of God and a gift to the world. Now, this doesn’t mean that if you are wise then everything will always work out for you (see the book of Job to dispel that misguided idea). It just means that wisdom is the principle of creation, and it is available to everyone.
You don’t have to be smart to have wisdom. You don’t have to be educated, or know a lot, to be wise. This is a strange thing to say on a day when we are giving thanks for education as a gift from God. Today we celebrate our high school graduates, and we offer our support for higher education. But there is a difference between wisdom and knowledge. You can be wise without being smart or knowing a lot of things. And you be smart and educated without being wise. We value education because we want the tools of knowledge to be wielded by people who also have wisdom. Some of the best, most creative and innovative works have been done by smart, well educated people. But the most awful, destructive things have also been done by smart, well educated people. Education is not, in itself, a promise of wisdom.
The call of wisdom is a message to all who live. You don’t have to be approved to receive it; you don’t have to travel to a holy shrine, or discover ancient scriptures in a desert cave, or attend secret ceremonies to receive it. You don’t even need to belong to a certain religion to receive it.
This past Monday, the New York Times published a column written by the Dalai Lama, the leader of Tibetan Buddhism, who lives in exile in India. He wrote about how people of all faiths have discovered the same wisdom of living with compassion. When he was young, he used to think that Buddhism was the only religion with wisdom, but as an adult he met with people like the Catholic monk Thomas Merton, and talked about the centrality of compassion in both Christianity and Buddhism. He wrote about similar conversations with Jews and Hindus…and Muslims – Muslims who point out that in the Koran, the very name for God is the “Compassionate and Merciful.”
God’s wisdom calls out to all people. She speaks to us about what we choose to value, how we shape our relationships, and how we live in the world with compassion. Wisdom is available to everyone because it is woven right into the act of creation. And wisdom is simple enough to be distilled from what we learn in Kindergarten. So…what gives? If wisdom is so obvious, why do we so often live foolishly, rather than wisely? Why do we so often live with self-centeredness instead of compassion? Why do we live with bitterness rather than wonder? When you put the choices like that, they seem like no-brainers. No one wakes up in the morning and says “today I’d really like to be foolish, selfish, and bitter. That seems like a good way to spend the day.”
But let’s put the questions differently, and see how they sound. Why do we so often choose what is easy instead of what is difficult? Why do we so often try to fit in, instead of acting from our convictions? Why do we live in a way that makes us feel safe and secure, rather than living in a way that faces our fears and self-doubt with courage, even if we aren’t sure of the outcome?
Doesn’t it turn out that God’s wisdom takes us away from lives that are easy, comfortable, and secure? No wonder we have trouble with it.
Wisdom is not something we can learn one day in kindergarten and master over the weekend, certainly not on our own, anyway. We need help. In the gospel according to John, Jesus is speaking with his disciples on their last night together before his death, and he says to them “I still have many things to say to you, but you cannot bear them now. When the Spirit of truth comes, he will guide you into all truth.” Could this mean that wisdom (what Jesus called truth) is a process, something that we aren’t ready for all at once? Could it mean that we don’t have to achieve wisdom all on our own?
As Jesus said to the disciples, so God says to us: receive the Spirit of truth, that you may hear the ongoing call of wisdom. Remember that you do not have to do it on your own. Wisdom will be challenging. It will demand all of our attention and energy, and we will need the strength of God working within us. If we were athletes, our coach would tell us that when it comes to wisdom, leave it all on the field; give wisdom everything you’ve got.
The Reverend Frederick Buechner wrote that “the place God calls you to is the place where your deep gladness and the world’s deep hunger meet.” (Beyond Words, p 405) So, to our graduates, our scholars, pursue your interest, in science, the arts, business, religion, health, mechanics, or whatever it may be. Learn all about it, and then match your knowledge and your intelligence to a place where you find the world’s deep hunger.
Remember that our lives are like the seeds we grew in cups as children: our lives are mysterious gifts…and they don’t last forever. God has given us the wisdom we need, so “share everything. Don’t hit people. Clean up your own mess. And when you go out into the world, hold hands and stick together.”
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Sermon - How To Find What Can't Be Found
Preached on May 23, 2010, Pentecost Sunday and day of Confirmation, at First Congregational Church of Tallmadge, UCC
Acts 2:1-21 Romans 8:14-17
Dedicated to the Confirmands, who confirm their faith and join the congregation today; and always to the glory of God.
How do you find out who you are? How do you find what brings you deep and meaningful happiness? How do you find what you need to complete your life? And what if these things cannot be found by looking for them?
One of our enduring hopes for our children is that they will be happy. “Do what makes you happy,” we say. But when people study this, it is actually very difficult for researchers to figure out what makes you happy. They are very good at figuring out how to get you to buy things, how to get your vote, and what makes you scared. But what makes you happy is a tough question. To illustrate the problem, here is a typical experiment. Randomly chosen people are asked to keep a beeper and a notepad. Whenever the beeper goes off, they quickly note what they are doing, and then rate their present level of happiness on a scale from 1 to 10. So, the beeper goes off, and you write down “family picnic: 8; at work: 4; frantically trying to get the kids out of bed and out the door on time for school: 1.” Then they would average the numbers, and see where people stand on a balance sheet of happy hours and unhappy hours. Think about how your days would average out: maybe a bunch of low or middle numbers for things you have to do, and then a couple high numbers for things you enjoy, at least on the weekend.
Here’s the problem, and I bet you’ve already spotted it: when we change the experiment and ask people to look back at the times in life that were full of those less happy moments related to having children at home, or stressful hours related work or a volunteer project, people will often say that those days, those months, those years were times of deep happiness because they were deeply meaningful. By contrast, people who had built up a lot of individual happy moments (eating out: 8; watching baseball: 9; napping: 10) tended to be so free of commitments and responsibility that they look back on those years as more or less forgettable and wasted. In the big picture, it turns out that when we pursue happiness directly, we end up with a lot of shallow moments. You will not find happiness by looking for it moment by moment. There is no manual on how to find what can’t be found.
Have you ever heard people say that they needed some time to find themselves? It usually has to do with not being sure about the right path in life, what career to pursue, where to live. Somehow, we get the idea that the point of life is to figure out who we are, but that makes life rather a lot about ourselves, and I remember something about those who try to save their own lives only end up losing them. It may be that another thing that can’t be found is myself.
No one can tell you how to find something that can’t be found, because there are some things that can only be received at the moment when we stop looking for ourselves. In the land of Oz, the scarecrow, the tin man, and the lion, were all convinced that they were lacking something that would make them complete: a brain, a heart, and courage. And perhaps you are just now thinking “well, they found what they wanted! When they conquered the wicked witch and unmasked the wizard, he gave them a brain, a heart, and courage. Doesn’t that story make the point that we should look for what we want until we get it?” Or, maybe you have a more specific memory of the Wizard of Oz, and you know very well that the wizard did not give them those things. The wizard gave the scarecrow a diploma; he gave the tin man a testimonial to his compassion; and he gave the lion a medal for his courage. All the wizard did was to celebrate what they already had, because, along the way, they forgot what they were looking for and focused instead on helping Dorothy. And they did that by using their brain, heart, and courage. The wizard was only celebrating something that was already true.
So it is on Confirmation Sunday. In a few minutes we will lay hands on these young people who are confirming their faith, and we will welcome the older class as new members of the church. The laying on of hands recognizes the gift of the Holy Spirit, just like the church received on Pentecost, just like Jesus himself received when the Holy Spirit descended on him as a dove when he was baptized. But I don’t think that we should be so foolish as to say that these people are receiving something they didn’t have before. We have seen the Spirit of God in them for a long time, since they took their first breath. We are celebrating something that is already true.
They were created in the image of God, as were all people created in God’s image. In the very first chapter of Genesis we read how the spirit of God hovered over the deep, and then spoke and created light, and stars, and land and trees, and fish and animals, and finally humankind in God’s own image. They already have the Spirit of God, as do we all, only we tend to forget.
We spend so much time searching for our identity because we have forgotten that we already have one. We are children of God, and therefore we are people whose best work is to love, to create, to forgive, to restore, to be compassionate. All those things are the business of God, and you inherit the family business when you’re in God’s family. But we forget. Made in the image of God, yes, but the image has become distorted.
Still, there are moments when we can see the image clearly. One of them is this morning, in worship. Worship is so much about remembering what we tend to forget. Remember your baptism; remember at the communion table, the presence of Christ in the bread and cup; be confirmed, and remember who you are.
People remember on a mission tour, when we get away from the habits of our lives to spend a week in service for others. Never are we more like God than when we go to the trouble to be of service to others in the human family, and to our fellow creatures on the earth. We have 14 high school students and 11 adults who are giving up a week this summer, taking time from their jobs, missing their families and friends, and they’re going to work all day. And isn’t it amazing that so often on these trips, people will discover deep happiness. It sneaks up on us when we finally stop looking for it. Happiness always comes indirectly, through the backdoor when we are focused on relationships and giving with compassion. And we also remember ourselves. We don’t find ourselves, we remember ourselves as children of God, inheritors of the family business.
Those of you in the past weeks who have walked in the middle of a “relay for life” in any community, when people of all kinds come together to ease the ravages of cancer. Think of that night, and tell me if you can’t see the image of God in the crowd of human faces.
Paul wrote that “all who are led by the Spirit of God are children of God. For you did not receive a spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you have received a spirit of adoption. When we cry, "Abba! Father!" it is that very Spirit bearing witness with our spirit that we are children of God, and if children, then heirs, heirs of God and joint heirs with Christ—if, in fact, we suffer with him so that we may also be glorified with him.”
For today, I offer my own updated translation of that passage:
The Spirit of God tells us that we are children of God. It is the opposite of the spirits that pull us into selfishness, consumerism, addiction, or fear. The Spirit of God adopts us back into the family of God when we have forgotten. We can sense the Spirit working in us whenever we stop focusing on finding what we want, and focus instead on God. That is when we remember that we are children of God, and if we are all God’s children, then we will receive the same as Christ: true joy, deep happiness, and our inheritance of God’s business and all its fortunes. Jesus showed us how to be God’s children by loving others no matter the cost, rather than trying to find for ourselves what can’t be found.
Call off the search.
Step off the merry-go-round that spins round and round the center of yourself, never seeing anything new.
You don’t need to find yourself.
You don’t need to figure out what will make you happy.
You don’t need to find anything to make you complete.
Could it be that you already have more than you know?
Acts 2:1-21 Romans 8:14-17
Dedicated to the Confirmands, who confirm their faith and join the congregation today; and always to the glory of God.
How do you find out who you are? How do you find what brings you deep and meaningful happiness? How do you find what you need to complete your life? And what if these things cannot be found by looking for them?
One of our enduring hopes for our children is that they will be happy. “Do what makes you happy,” we say. But when people study this, it is actually very difficult for researchers to figure out what makes you happy. They are very good at figuring out how to get you to buy things, how to get your vote, and what makes you scared. But what makes you happy is a tough question. To illustrate the problem, here is a typical experiment. Randomly chosen people are asked to keep a beeper and a notepad. Whenever the beeper goes off, they quickly note what they are doing, and then rate their present level of happiness on a scale from 1 to 10. So, the beeper goes off, and you write down “family picnic: 8; at work: 4; frantically trying to get the kids out of bed and out the door on time for school: 1.” Then they would average the numbers, and see where people stand on a balance sheet of happy hours and unhappy hours. Think about how your days would average out: maybe a bunch of low or middle numbers for things you have to do, and then a couple high numbers for things you enjoy, at least on the weekend.
Here’s the problem, and I bet you’ve already spotted it: when we change the experiment and ask people to look back at the times in life that were full of those less happy moments related to having children at home, or stressful hours related work or a volunteer project, people will often say that those days, those months, those years were times of deep happiness because they were deeply meaningful. By contrast, people who had built up a lot of individual happy moments (eating out: 8; watching baseball: 9; napping: 10) tended to be so free of commitments and responsibility that they look back on those years as more or less forgettable and wasted. In the big picture, it turns out that when we pursue happiness directly, we end up with a lot of shallow moments. You will not find happiness by looking for it moment by moment. There is no manual on how to find what can’t be found.
Have you ever heard people say that they needed some time to find themselves? It usually has to do with not being sure about the right path in life, what career to pursue, where to live. Somehow, we get the idea that the point of life is to figure out who we are, but that makes life rather a lot about ourselves, and I remember something about those who try to save their own lives only end up losing them. It may be that another thing that can’t be found is myself.
No one can tell you how to find something that can’t be found, because there are some things that can only be received at the moment when we stop looking for ourselves. In the land of Oz, the scarecrow, the tin man, and the lion, were all convinced that they were lacking something that would make them complete: a brain, a heart, and courage. And perhaps you are just now thinking “well, they found what they wanted! When they conquered the wicked witch and unmasked the wizard, he gave them a brain, a heart, and courage. Doesn’t that story make the point that we should look for what we want until we get it?” Or, maybe you have a more specific memory of the Wizard of Oz, and you know very well that the wizard did not give them those things. The wizard gave the scarecrow a diploma; he gave the tin man a testimonial to his compassion; and he gave the lion a medal for his courage. All the wizard did was to celebrate what they already had, because, along the way, they forgot what they were looking for and focused instead on helping Dorothy. And they did that by using their brain, heart, and courage. The wizard was only celebrating something that was already true.
So it is on Confirmation Sunday. In a few minutes we will lay hands on these young people who are confirming their faith, and we will welcome the older class as new members of the church. The laying on of hands recognizes the gift of the Holy Spirit, just like the church received on Pentecost, just like Jesus himself received when the Holy Spirit descended on him as a dove when he was baptized. But I don’t think that we should be so foolish as to say that these people are receiving something they didn’t have before. We have seen the Spirit of God in them for a long time, since they took their first breath. We are celebrating something that is already true.
They were created in the image of God, as were all people created in God’s image. In the very first chapter of Genesis we read how the spirit of God hovered over the deep, and then spoke and created light, and stars, and land and trees, and fish and animals, and finally humankind in God’s own image. They already have the Spirit of God, as do we all, only we tend to forget.
We spend so much time searching for our identity because we have forgotten that we already have one. We are children of God, and therefore we are people whose best work is to love, to create, to forgive, to restore, to be compassionate. All those things are the business of God, and you inherit the family business when you’re in God’s family. But we forget. Made in the image of God, yes, but the image has become distorted.
Still, there are moments when we can see the image clearly. One of them is this morning, in worship. Worship is so much about remembering what we tend to forget. Remember your baptism; remember at the communion table, the presence of Christ in the bread and cup; be confirmed, and remember who you are.
People remember on a mission tour, when we get away from the habits of our lives to spend a week in service for others. Never are we more like God than when we go to the trouble to be of service to others in the human family, and to our fellow creatures on the earth. We have 14 high school students and 11 adults who are giving up a week this summer, taking time from their jobs, missing their families and friends, and they’re going to work all day. And isn’t it amazing that so often on these trips, people will discover deep happiness. It sneaks up on us when we finally stop looking for it. Happiness always comes indirectly, through the backdoor when we are focused on relationships and giving with compassion. And we also remember ourselves. We don’t find ourselves, we remember ourselves as children of God, inheritors of the family business.
Those of you in the past weeks who have walked in the middle of a “relay for life” in any community, when people of all kinds come together to ease the ravages of cancer. Think of that night, and tell me if you can’t see the image of God in the crowd of human faces.
Paul wrote that “all who are led by the Spirit of God are children of God. For you did not receive a spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you have received a spirit of adoption. When we cry, "Abba! Father!" it is that very Spirit bearing witness with our spirit that we are children of God, and if children, then heirs, heirs of God and joint heirs with Christ—if, in fact, we suffer with him so that we may also be glorified with him.”
For today, I offer my own updated translation of that passage:
The Spirit of God tells us that we are children of God. It is the opposite of the spirits that pull us into selfishness, consumerism, addiction, or fear. The Spirit of God adopts us back into the family of God when we have forgotten. We can sense the Spirit working in us whenever we stop focusing on finding what we want, and focus instead on God. That is when we remember that we are children of God, and if we are all God’s children, then we will receive the same as Christ: true joy, deep happiness, and our inheritance of God’s business and all its fortunes. Jesus showed us how to be God’s children by loving others no matter the cost, rather than trying to find for ourselves what can’t be found.
Call off the search.
Step off the merry-go-round that spins round and round the center of yourself, never seeing anything new.
You don’t need to find yourself.
You don’t need to figure out what will make you happy.
You don’t need to find anything to make you complete.
Could it be that you already have more than you know?
Monday, May 10, 2010
Sermon - A New Day
Preached on April 18, 2010, Third Sunday of Easter at First Congregational Church of Tallmadge, UCC
John 21:1-19
Dedicated to my mother-in-law, Margaret Craft, on her birthday; and always to the glory of God.
I'm sure you know that feeling of thinking of the perfect thing to say too late to say it. It doesn't come to you in the moment that you need it, but only later, when you have missed your chance to say or do the perfect thing. There you are, thinking back on the moment, and you come up with a funny line that would have had everyone laughing. Or you think of the perfect comeback, the zinger that would have felt so good to say, or at least it would have felt good at that moment. Life is full of missed chances for humor and comebacks, for some people more than others. But this morning I'm thinking particularly about the times when we miss a chance be good, when we look back on a conversation and think of the perfect thing to say in defense of someone, or in favor of a more thoughtful approach, or to promote a more gracious relationship. “OH!” we think, “that's what I should have done! That would have been the perfect thing to say!”
I wonder if Peter had been having these thoughts in the days and weeks after that first Easter. I wonder if he thought back to the night when Jesus was arrested. I bet he did. What I am sure of is that the writer of this gospel wants us to remember that night because of the way he describes Peter on the beach, beside the charcoal fire, being asked three questions. Those details take us back to the night before Good Friday, when Peter was by another charcoal fire, outside the trial of Jesus by the high priest. Inside, Jesus was on trial, and the gospel according to John tells us that “the high priest questioned Jesus about his disciples and about his teaching. Jesus answered, ‘I have spoken openly to the world; I have always taught in synagogues and in the temple, where all the Jews come together. I have said nothing in secret. Why do you ask me? Ask those who heard what I said to them; they know what I said.’” Inside, Jesus tells them to ask anyone who was there. Outside, one who was there is asked three times if he had traveled with Jesus, and three times, Peter said “no.”
I wonder how often he thought of those moments. I wonder if he realized what he could have done differently. He might have told himself that his actions were understandable. He had been scared, afraid for his own life. But still, why hadn’t he had more courage? And what will happen the next time? Maybe Peter has decided that next time it would be just the same. Maybe that’s why he went fishing.
The gospel tells us that after they had seen the risen Christ at least two times, a few of them were together and Simon Peter said “I’m going out to fish.” And the others said “we’ll go with you.” Can’t you picture that? It seems like they just don’t know what to do, so they go back to what they know best. When the risen Jesus first appeared to them, he had said “receive the Holy Spirit,” “as the father has sent me, I am sending you.” But they seem to make of that about as much as you and I usually know what to make of it. It sounds like good news, but we don’t know how it applies to our lives. Their Easter was very different from the one we celebrated two weeks ago, but I’m not sure that we know what to do with it any more than they did. We say goodbye to family visitors; we finish telling each other what a wonderful service we had; we put away the baskets, and then we join the disciples for that moment when Peter says “well, I’m going out to fish,” which is a fisherman way of saying “it’s time to get life back to normal.” And that’s pretty much what we have done. If you look back at the mystery of Easter and realize that you haven’t sorted out yet how it affects your life, then you are in good company. The disciples did the same thing. They went back to fishing.
I wonder if Peter was still worried about his lack of courage. I wonder if he had decided that he wasn’t going to make a good disciple, based on his track record so far. But then Jesus shows up and asks a simple question. “Have you any fish?” He doesn’t ask them why they aren’t out offering good news to the outcasts, and care for the sick, and bread to the hungry like he had taught them. He meets them where they are, fishing, and he just asks them “have you any fish?”
The Reverend Peter Gomes, who preaches at the Memorial Chapel at Harvard University, says that what this question really means is how are we doing in life as usual? “How are you getting on in your work? How is it going? Are you happy in your job as a teacher? Are you satisfied in your work as a lawyer? Are you successful in your labors as a housekeeper, as a merchant? …Children, have you any fish? Children, do you have anything to show for what it is that you spend most of your time doing, and what it is you think you are good at and best at?”
The simple answer for the disciples is no, they haven’t caught a fish all night. And now it’s morning, a new day. So Jesus builds a charcoal fire, and then he asks Peter a new set of questions: Do you love me? Do you love me? Do you love me? Peter can’t go back and change what he said in the past, anymore than we can go back and have a do-over when we realize what we should have done. But Jesus won’t let us be a prisoner to our old failures. Peter can’t go back and stand up for Jesus at the trial, but he can act with courage and love for others. It’s a new day.
When Jesus asks “do you love me?” and Peter responds that he does, Jesus says “feed my lambs,” “tend my sheep,” “feed my sheep.” Our love for God is always lived out in love for other people. So Peter has two choices, which are also our choices. Knowing the mistakes we have made, the times when we have not done what others needed from us, we can either hold on to our failures, assuming that our past predicts our future, or we can allow the risen Jesus to give us a new chance, on the new day that dawns for us every single morning.
When we think of the right thing to do too late to do it, those missed chances can become rehearsals. The first time it happens, you are caught off guard - you are surprised. The moment passes too quickly for you to realize your potential to act. You missed the chance, but at least now you know what to look for, and it won’t be as surprising next time. The next time it happens, you recognize the moment, but perhaps fear of confrontation holds you back, or uncertainty about doing something different. Looking back on it, you rehearse a bolder action, you convince yourself that your fears are overblown, and that the good you might do outweighs the cost. You can't go back and change what's happened - those chances are missed forever - but God isn't done with you. And the next time there is a decisive moment in which to act, you are ready.
Maybe it means sticking up for someone. Maybe it means stopping to help when a stranger looks troubled in a public place. Maybe it is the call to give a donation to an urgent cause. Maybe it will be the person you need to care for in a way you wish you could have cared more for a parent, child, or friend in the past.
It may just be the case that our failures are what make us most valuable to the ministry of Jesus. I’m reminded of a story I heard once. I don’t know if it really happened, but I know that it is true. It’s about a business man who made a terrible mistake in his work, costing they corporation $30,000. He went in to see his boss, took full responsibility, and said “I lost this money, and I understand that you have to let me go,” to which his boss replied “fire you?! I’m not going to fire you. We just spent $30,000 on you. You’re more valuable to us now than ever.”
Peter can’t go back and change what happened when Jesus was on trial, when they were calling for witnesses to testify, and he had been just outside, denying three times that he had been with Jesus. He can’t change that, just as none of us can change the things that we have done or not done in our lives. We have all hurt people; we have failed to be there for those we care about. But that never means that God would be done with us. A new day begins, and God comes to meet us where we are, to feed us, and to point us in a new direction.
“You, out there in the boat with no fish. Out there in the world, wondering what your purpose is. I need you. No matter what you’ve done before, you are the one I need now. Tend my sheep. Feed my sheep. I know that you are ready for it.”
Let us pray:
God of new days and new beginnings, bless us with your mercy and your calling to us. Assure us that you are never done with any one of us. Amen.
John 21:1-19
Dedicated to my mother-in-law, Margaret Craft, on her birthday; and always to the glory of God.
I'm sure you know that feeling of thinking of the perfect thing to say too late to say it. It doesn't come to you in the moment that you need it, but only later, when you have missed your chance to say or do the perfect thing. There you are, thinking back on the moment, and you come up with a funny line that would have had everyone laughing. Or you think of the perfect comeback, the zinger that would have felt so good to say, or at least it would have felt good at that moment. Life is full of missed chances for humor and comebacks, for some people more than others. But this morning I'm thinking particularly about the times when we miss a chance be good, when we look back on a conversation and think of the perfect thing to say in defense of someone, or in favor of a more thoughtful approach, or to promote a more gracious relationship. “OH!” we think, “that's what I should have done! That would have been the perfect thing to say!”
I wonder if Peter had been having these thoughts in the days and weeks after that first Easter. I wonder if he thought back to the night when Jesus was arrested. I bet he did. What I am sure of is that the writer of this gospel wants us to remember that night because of the way he describes Peter on the beach, beside the charcoal fire, being asked three questions. Those details take us back to the night before Good Friday, when Peter was by another charcoal fire, outside the trial of Jesus by the high priest. Inside, Jesus was on trial, and the gospel according to John tells us that “the high priest questioned Jesus about his disciples and about his teaching. Jesus answered, ‘I have spoken openly to the world; I have always taught in synagogues and in the temple, where all the Jews come together. I have said nothing in secret. Why do you ask me? Ask those who heard what I said to them; they know what I said.’” Inside, Jesus tells them to ask anyone who was there. Outside, one who was there is asked three times if he had traveled with Jesus, and three times, Peter said “no.”
I wonder how often he thought of those moments. I wonder if he realized what he could have done differently. He might have told himself that his actions were understandable. He had been scared, afraid for his own life. But still, why hadn’t he had more courage? And what will happen the next time? Maybe Peter has decided that next time it would be just the same. Maybe that’s why he went fishing.
The gospel tells us that after they had seen the risen Christ at least two times, a few of them were together and Simon Peter said “I’m going out to fish.” And the others said “we’ll go with you.” Can’t you picture that? It seems like they just don’t know what to do, so they go back to what they know best. When the risen Jesus first appeared to them, he had said “receive the Holy Spirit,” “as the father has sent me, I am sending you.” But they seem to make of that about as much as you and I usually know what to make of it. It sounds like good news, but we don’t know how it applies to our lives. Their Easter was very different from the one we celebrated two weeks ago, but I’m not sure that we know what to do with it any more than they did. We say goodbye to family visitors; we finish telling each other what a wonderful service we had; we put away the baskets, and then we join the disciples for that moment when Peter says “well, I’m going out to fish,” which is a fisherman way of saying “it’s time to get life back to normal.” And that’s pretty much what we have done. If you look back at the mystery of Easter and realize that you haven’t sorted out yet how it affects your life, then you are in good company. The disciples did the same thing. They went back to fishing.
I wonder if Peter was still worried about his lack of courage. I wonder if he had decided that he wasn’t going to make a good disciple, based on his track record so far. But then Jesus shows up and asks a simple question. “Have you any fish?” He doesn’t ask them why they aren’t out offering good news to the outcasts, and care for the sick, and bread to the hungry like he had taught them. He meets them where they are, fishing, and he just asks them “have you any fish?”
The Reverend Peter Gomes, who preaches at the Memorial Chapel at Harvard University, says that what this question really means is how are we doing in life as usual? “How are you getting on in your work? How is it going? Are you happy in your job as a teacher? Are you satisfied in your work as a lawyer? Are you successful in your labors as a housekeeper, as a merchant? …Children, have you any fish? Children, do you have anything to show for what it is that you spend most of your time doing, and what it is you think you are good at and best at?”
The simple answer for the disciples is no, they haven’t caught a fish all night. And now it’s morning, a new day. So Jesus builds a charcoal fire, and then he asks Peter a new set of questions: Do you love me? Do you love me? Do you love me? Peter can’t go back and change what he said in the past, anymore than we can go back and have a do-over when we realize what we should have done. But Jesus won’t let us be a prisoner to our old failures. Peter can’t go back and stand up for Jesus at the trial, but he can act with courage and love for others. It’s a new day.
When Jesus asks “do you love me?” and Peter responds that he does, Jesus says “feed my lambs,” “tend my sheep,” “feed my sheep.” Our love for God is always lived out in love for other people. So Peter has two choices, which are also our choices. Knowing the mistakes we have made, the times when we have not done what others needed from us, we can either hold on to our failures, assuming that our past predicts our future, or we can allow the risen Jesus to give us a new chance, on the new day that dawns for us every single morning.
When we think of the right thing to do too late to do it, those missed chances can become rehearsals. The first time it happens, you are caught off guard - you are surprised. The moment passes too quickly for you to realize your potential to act. You missed the chance, but at least now you know what to look for, and it won’t be as surprising next time. The next time it happens, you recognize the moment, but perhaps fear of confrontation holds you back, or uncertainty about doing something different. Looking back on it, you rehearse a bolder action, you convince yourself that your fears are overblown, and that the good you might do outweighs the cost. You can't go back and change what's happened - those chances are missed forever - but God isn't done with you. And the next time there is a decisive moment in which to act, you are ready.
Maybe it means sticking up for someone. Maybe it means stopping to help when a stranger looks troubled in a public place. Maybe it is the call to give a donation to an urgent cause. Maybe it will be the person you need to care for in a way you wish you could have cared more for a parent, child, or friend in the past.
It may just be the case that our failures are what make us most valuable to the ministry of Jesus. I’m reminded of a story I heard once. I don’t know if it really happened, but I know that it is true. It’s about a business man who made a terrible mistake in his work, costing they corporation $30,000. He went in to see his boss, took full responsibility, and said “I lost this money, and I understand that you have to let me go,” to which his boss replied “fire you?! I’m not going to fire you. We just spent $30,000 on you. You’re more valuable to us now than ever.”
Peter can’t go back and change what happened when Jesus was on trial, when they were calling for witnesses to testify, and he had been just outside, denying three times that he had been with Jesus. He can’t change that, just as none of us can change the things that we have done or not done in our lives. We have all hurt people; we have failed to be there for those we care about. But that never means that God would be done with us. A new day begins, and God comes to meet us where we are, to feed us, and to point us in a new direction.
“You, out there in the boat with no fish. Out there in the world, wondering what your purpose is. I need you. No matter what you’ve done before, you are the one I need now. Tend my sheep. Feed my sheep. I know that you are ready for it.”
Let us pray:
God of new days and new beginnings, bless us with your mercy and your calling to us. Assure us that you are never done with any one of us. Amen.
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