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Sermon transcript for February 19, 2012

On the Mountain with Jesus
Transfiguration Sunday--Mark 9:2-9
Belmont UMC—February 19, 2012
Ken Edwards, preaching

Audio - MP3


When I was 18 years old I had an experience of spiritual renewal. I was a college student at the time in the early months of my freshman year. The nation was in an uproar, people my age were being drafted and heading to a war in Viet Nam. We had witnessed the assassinations of a president, his brother, and a beloved civil rights leader. There were riots and sit-ins on college campuses and at the seats of government. In hindsight it seemed to be an odd time for me to find a way back into the faith of my childhood. It was an unsettling time and it may be that my soul longed for a peaceful refuge in a new relationship with Jesus Christ.    

There was a place on the college campus where I would go to get away and be alone. There was one hill on campus and on top of that hill was a deserted old brick house. In front of the house was a huge old oak tree that appeared to have weathered many storms. I’d sit on the steps of the house and read, pray and reflect. One sunny, warm day as I was sitting on the steps, I looked down the hill. The limbs from the tree formed a shadow in the shape of the cross and a wonderful sense of peace and assurance flooded me. It was quite stunning and I sat there for a long time basking in the sense that God was very much with me.

I share this story so that you will pause and remember those times when you were surprised by a sense of God’s presence. Those experiences can be filled with wonder and awe or they can be a bit unsettling as well.

Frederick Buechner describes his own experience as he writes of surprising tears that came to him in a Presbyterian church one day, tears that came after a passionate search to know God and put a face with the mystery that seemed to seek him out. That face was the face of Christ. He writes, “I wanted learn more about those tears and the object of that astonishment. I wanted to know, and be known by, people who knew greatly more about Christ than I did, were greatly closer to him than I was, greatly more aware of what they were about and of what he was about in them.”  (Listening to Your Life, pp. 30-31)

Jesus took three of his disciples up a high mountain to be by themselves, apart from the others. It was not unusual for Jesus to retreat to a quiet place to pray, but on this day something quite remarkable happened. Jesus was changed in front of them and his clothes became extraordinarily white and there appeared with him 2 prominent characters in Hebrew history, Moses and Elijah, persons who had had their own mountain top experiences with God.

The experience was surprising and terrifying for the disciples. Peter says, “Rabbi, it is good that we are here. Let us make 3 shrines—one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.” The next sentence is quite human. “He said this because he didn’t know how to respond, for the three of them were terrified.” (verses 5-6; CEB) Peter feels a need to speak, to fill the void, to distract them from their fear, to take control of the situation, to make sense of what has happening, or . . .  How like us to feel a need to control that which we cannot explain!

When I shared my experience on the hillside with my friends, they all wanted to know what the experience meant. Was it a sign? What are you supposed to do with the experience? Their questions puzzled me. I had been so caught up in the wonder and awe of the experience it had not occurred to me to look for a reason and try to define the experience in any way. When I look back on that day I’m grateful to have moments when I sense God’s reassuring presence and that alone is good enough for me. I suspect our best response to those moments of surprising grace is one of awe and wonder.

Peter’s words on the mountain remind me of something my seminary history professor said once. He said that most of the great spiritual awakenings began among the laity. The clergy and the theologians always came along later and tried to tidy everything up. We seem to have a need to explain these theophanies, to codify them, to control them, to tone them down. Like Peter we fill the silence and the wonder with our talk, because we find the silence disconcerting. Or maybe we are afraid of where they will call us; maybe we know that the Transfiguration story means that the journey to Lent is near.

I remember a Father’s Day weekend when the three sons went with me to Six Flags in Atlanta. It was our youngest son’s first time at a big amusement park. He had been on small rides at the county fair but he’s never seen a roller coaster like the one we boarded as our first ride that day. As the cars made their slow grinding ascent up the first mountainous hill, he said, “But Dad, it’s so slow.”  I replied, “Just wait.” He was frustrated by the ascent. But at the top of the hill, the brakes were released and we felt like we were flying downward. I looked over at the little boy’s face to see the look of joy and fear.

We have been making the slow, but steady ascent up the mountain of the Transfiguration, and we are reluctant because we know on the other side of the mountain is the journey to Lent, a journey that can be one of wonder and maybe a little fear—especially if we allow the Lenten journey to speak to us of a closer walk with God.

The Continental Divide is the great watershed divide where all the waters on the west flow toward the Pacific Ocean and the waters on the east flow toward the Atlantic Ocean. The Mount of Transfiguration is that great divide, after which, the activities of Jesus and the disciples flow toward Jerusalem, the cross, and the resurrection. After today we begin our descent to begin the journey of Lent.

In the Gospel story Peter’s suggestion of building shrines is silenced by a cloud and a clear voice from the cloud. The voice is the same voice we heard at the beginning of Epiphany at the baptism of Jesus. The voice says, “This is my son, my beloved, listen to him!” This mountain top experience is about Jesus, about listening to him, about focusing on who he is and what he is saying to us about God.


It is clear throughout this section of the Gospel of Mark that the disciples do not fully understand who Jesus is. Those who are on the margins understand who Jesus is. A man who is blind can see who Jesus is. A woman who is a Gentile understands. The demons understand. Over and over Jesus keeps asking the disciples why they don’t yet understand who he is and God’s purpose for him in this world. The disciples’ understanding is blinded by their ambition and their reluctance to hear Jesus teachings about the ultimate journey to Jerusalem.

Many of us are reading Bishop Rueben Job’s new book, Three Simple Questions. The book focuses on these questions: Who is God? Who am I? Who are we together? These questions formed the outline of Rueben’s sermon here on our Centennial Sunday in July of 2010. We have invited members of the Administrative Board to join in reading and reflecting on this book. And we invite all of you to study and reflect on this book during Lent and at our Wednesday night studies.

Bishop Rueben Job offers some insight into who this Jesus is and why we need to listen to him.  He writes, “The God Jesus reveals shatters all our little ideas about God and reveals a God who is author and creator of all there is. In Jesus we see a God who reverses the values of our culture and turns upside down our scheme of priorities, leaving us gasping at the sight of such bone-deep love, justice and mercy. In Jesus we see such bold and radical truth that we tremble in awe and then cry out for help as we try to practice the faithful way of living he demonstrated so splendidly.” (p. 21)

Today we spend a little time on the mountain with Jesus. Today we hear a clear voice that bids us to “Listen to him.” On Wednesday night we will gather here to begin our journey through Lent. On Wednesday we will be reminded that we are human, and always will be, and God is God, and always will be. On that journey we will be invited to trust God and God’s leading. On that journey, during a time when many voices will compete for our allegiance and following, we will be invited to listen to Jesus! As we listen we will be filled with wonder!


 

Sermon transcript for February 12, 2012 (10:30am service)

A Heart for Healing
Belmont UMC—February 2-5-12, 10:30am service
Heather Harriss, preaching

Audio - MP3


Over and over again, God’s work is accomplished through people that society sees as powerless.

Our reading from 2 Kings introduces us to Naaman.  Naaman is a commander in the army of King Aram.  We are told he is a great man and a mighty warrior.  A powerful man, when Naaman speaks, people listen, he says, “Jump!” and people jump.  But for all his wealth and prestige, still he suffers from a terrible skin disease.  He has sought every healing money can buy, explored every possible option and still he suffers.

Now Naaman’s army, on one of their raids had kidnapped a young girl from Israel. This young girl now works as a servant for Naaman’s wife.
This young girl says to Naaman’s wife, “If only Naaman could see the prophet in my land, then he would be healed.”  Naaman, willing to grab at any shred of hope, makes plans to go.  He takes with him 10 talents of silver, 6,000 shekels of gold, 10 sets of garments and a letter from his king to the king of Israel.
When the king of Israel receives Naaman, he is very distressed; he knows he can’t cure Naaman, what will this mighty warrior do?

Lucky for the king, the prophet Elisha hears about what is going on and sends a message to the king, telling him to send Naaman his way, so now, Naaman sets out for Elisha’s house.  When he arrives, Elisha sends out a messenger with this prescription:
“Go and wash 7 times in the Jordan River.  There your skin will be restored and become clean.”

So, here in the story, we might assume Naaman is going to take off running for the Jordan River, shouting his thanks as he goes, maybe even lifting that messenger up in an exuberant bear hug before he takes off at a sprint.  

This is not what Naaman does.  No, he is furious.  He bellows at the messenger, “Elisha can’t even bother to come out of his house!!?  Doesn’t he know who I am?  I am somebody.  I am important! Doesn’t he know I am brave and courageous?  Why would he suggest something so easy? Any can take a bath in a river!  I am special.  And for that matter, I am from a big city, not some back water, we have rivers that are far more glorious than the Jordan River!”

Naaman stomps off in a rage.  Cautiously, his servants approach, “My Lord, don’t be too hasty.  Let’s think this through.  If he had told you something difficult, we know you would have done it with ease.  He has just said, ‘Wash and be clean.’ After everything else you have done, after how far we have traveled, you might as well...”  Naaman eventually listens to his servants, goes down to the Jordan, washes, and lo and behold, he is healed.  

Healing comes to Naaman through the initiative of a young girl and the calming words of reason from Naaman’s servants.  God’s work is accomplished through people society all too often ignores and discounts.

Naaman accustomed to the trappings of wealth and power almost walks away from the very thing he yearns for the most.  Reading Naaman’s story this week, I found myself thinking about the Wizard of Oz.  He wanted to encounter what Dorothy, the tin man, the lion and the scarecrow saw when they were ushered in to see the wizard.  They were terrified, speechless, something big was going to happen if they weren’t all first scared to death.

And then the curtain is pulled back.  There is no all-powerful wizard; there is no magic, just a man.  Crushed and filled with despair they believe all hope is lost.  Naaman wanted the lights, the dazzle, the spectacle-- Outward signs to match both how he perceives himself, and also to equal the struggle he has endured with this terrible illness.  

When all he gets is a regular man telling him to go take a  jump in the river, like our visitors to Oz, he is crushed.

Hopefully, most of you are familiar with the movie the Wizard of Oz and I am not spoiling the ending.  Dorothy, the Tin Man, The Lion and the scarecrow discover they already have within them what they need to have what it is they yearn for the most.

Naaman’s servants help him to see that this simple prescription is worth a go.  There is no Oz,  no wizard, no magic wand, but here, right here, there is healing.  Here is the path you must take to discover healing; will you take this unexpected path?  Will you trust God’s actions coming how you least expect it?

Our lectionary now takes us to another time and place.  Introduces us to someone else who yearns to be healed.  This man’s disease has resulted in him being separated.  In the eyes of the religious community people with this skin disease are impure, unclean, a source of danger and contamination.  For these reasons, when a priest discovers someone with this impurity, he must expel them from the civil and religious society.  They can’t pray in the temple, go to the synagogue or live with their family in their house.  This illness converts the people who have it into solitary persons, a separated species.

As I was reading different articles on these verses from the gospel of Mark, the writings of theologian Ofelia Ortega really captured my imagination.  Jesus is in a deserted place, desolate, devoid of warmth, a place set apart, as he wanders here, this man with the skin disease, sees Jesus and comes to him, falling on his knees, he begs, “If you want, you can make me clean.”  Then the scripture reads, “Incensed, Jesus reached out his hand, touched him and said, “I do want to.  Be clean.”  Incensed??  Was Jesus mad at this man?  Annoyed at being interrupted from a prayerful reverie?  Ortega suggests Jesus was filled with rage at the laws that resulted in this man being kicked out; isolated, cut off from the very people he needs the most.  Enraged at a social system that demonized and excluded an entire group of human beings.  The Rev. Jon Walton preached “this is a healing story with passion in it.  Jesus is frustrated and upset when he heals the man; and in the process of healing him, Jesus breaks down walls that have been carefully built and tirelessly preserved by well-meaning people, when Jesus touches the man with the skin disease he dares to do the unconventional, in fact he does what is unlawful, so that he may accomplish the unlikely, what until then was inconceivable.  

This healing set things in motion!  Because Jesus has healed the man, the man can now return to his community, he can again be a part of his family, he can participate in the rituals of his faith, he can worship God with his community.  As United Methodists, we would say, he is now again a member in good standing.

This is why Jesus wants this man restored to the household of God.  Jesus tells him, “Go, and show yourself to the priest and offer the sacrifice for your cleansing that Moses commanded.  This will be a testimony to them.”  But will they trust God’s action coming how they least expect it?

The healed man returns, people are amazed.  How could God have worked through this man we had declared beyond the bounds?  Why would God act through this person? And in this way?  Isn’t this healing contrary to everything we know?  The people want to know and the healed man can’t help himself, he cannot quit talking about the liberating action of Jesus.  Through the healing love of Jesus the seeds of our church are being planted, a church that begins with outcasts, a church that seeks to overcome the exclusion system that currently reigns.  Jesus’ radical invitation to the kingdom of God invades all social order and changes everything.  The scripture tells us, “Jesus stayed in the country.”  This no-mans land, this place beyond the boundary people only cross when they have no choice, when every option has been closed off to them, this is where Jesus stays.
There has been a reversal, the man with the skin disease is clean, and Jesus has touched what is considered unclean.  What is going to happen?  We know what happens, the people come to Jesus.  The boundary that could not be crossed is now sought after, the social order disrupted.  The place of exile has become the place of welcome; the place of separation the place of restoration, the place of brokenness, now the place of healing.  Jesus is making things on earth as they are in heaven, where God’s household is big enough for everyone, where there is a place at the table for each and every one of us.

Naaman discovers healing when he heeds the words of those whom society values the least.  The man with the skin disease, one whom society reviles and rejects, devotes his life to sharing about the liberating love of Jesus Christ, to being a part of God’s vision for us where none are reviled, none are rejected.

Some time this week on NPR I caught the tail end of an interview.  They were talking with a man, he is a professional coach of some sport at a high level and he has two daughters who, while growing up, played on a lot of sports teams.  He has written a book of essays and the interviewer asked the coach about watching his daughters play on a team.  I was totally struck by his comment, he said, “watching my child play is like everything is in black in white, except my child, everything they do is in Technicolor.”  I loved that he said this.  One because it captures so well something that is so true, but also because I like to think this is how God sees each one of us.  

How somehow in God’s economy God sees and loves Naaman, sees and loves the servant girl, Elisha, the servants.  God sees and loves those who are cast out and those who seek justice and truth.  God sees us all as our best and brightest selves and sets to work working through us.  Through Jesus, God hoped that we each would know this, that we each would walk this path to healing and wholeness, emboldened to follow new ways, to go on unexpected journeys, to live boldly, knowing that the more we seek Christ in the faces of each person we encounter, the closer we come to being the household of God.  We don’t get there by clicking our heels and saying, “There’s no place like home”, we get there by actively participating in God’s work, by believing in what seems not only unlikely but even inconceivable, Jesus Christ came that each of us will know we have healing hearts, that when we follow on the path where Jesus leads, we find we are on the way to God’s household and discover that after all we are already Home.

Amen!  


   

Sermon transcript for February 12, 2012 (early service)

“Living With Christ’s Expectations (And Not Vice Versa)”
Belmont UMC—February 2-12-12, early service
Nick Chrisohon, preaching

*Maybe a quick introduction

When I was young, I really liked Peanuts cartoons.  I liked reading the comics in the funny papers as well as watching the specials on TV.  Although my favorite character was Snoopy – the beloved dog with imagination and attitude – I also really liked Pig-Pen.  I remember thinking how funny he was as a character.  In schoolyard terminology, he was the smelly kid, and no one wants to be the smelly kid.  The most amazing thing about Peanuts was that Pig-Pen was accepted as one of the gang regardless of his accompanying cloud of dust.  He could not help his condition, as he once famously exclaimed, “You know what I am? I’m a dust magnet!” Some storylines involved him trying to get clean, but the dust remained a part of him and his story.  It did not define him to his friends, as it was just something that came with being Pig-Pen.  

This illustration provides us with an ideal that is rarely met.   History tells us many stories about those who are mistreated for being different.   In today’s gospel reading, we find a mistreated person who suffers from disease and is thus neglected by his community.  He is not treated with dignity and respect in the manner the Peanuts gang treats Pig-Pen.  Instead, he is a victim in a story about expectations.  Expectations of Christ and the world: constantly at odds with one another.

This text in Mark is one of the shortest, yet in my opinion, most difficult passages to understand in modern contexts.  People often hold images of Jesus as being the rockstar of the Galilee.  He preaches to thousands from mountaintops to the middle of a lake, seemingly putting on the “Greatest Show on Earth” rivaling Barnum and Bailey’s circus and wowing more people than The Rolling Stones, but in this passage, he seems down to earth and surprisingly secretive.  Mark provides the reader with a different, more subdued, Christ that feels more understated than in other gospels.  His humanity is very present in this reading, and we learn much from his actions and concerns regarding others.

A man hoping to be healed of a skin disease moves Jesus to sympathy.  The man lives as an alien, because those with skin disease and other infirmities were cast out of the city as unclean.  These people were constantly looking for help from others, because they did not have the capability to help themselves.  They were left vulnerable outside the city with little assistance to ease an already difficult condition. For those inside the safety of city walls, difference was emphasized and exploited as reasoning to send away those who were not ‘like’ them.  This man shows the desperation of the ones outside the walls – he falls to his knees and begs for help.  He lays down what little dignity he may have had in hopes that this traveling rabbi is as special as others have claimed.

In some older translations, it says Jesus was “indignant.” Indignance here seems to signify annoyance with something that is unfair or wrong.  In the NRSV translation, it says Jesus was “moved by pity” (a sign of sympathy). His response to the man’s pleading is “I do choose. Be clean.”  Be clean?  As if the poor guy had gone years with disease because it was the thing to do and he could just switch back when he got tired of the pain and sores?  This statement belies the notion this is disease at all.  Instead, we notice Jesus healing a man and sending him to be reconciled to the community that neglected him in the first place.  

Jesus makes a powerful statement by not only healing the man but touching him.  The man had been cast out, because religious code of the time demanded those with disease be separated from those who have no disease as a precaution against contamination, but the intention of quarantining the sick for the sake of the well was distorted to a system that oppressed the sick as sub-human.  Jesus broke religious and political mores by becoming “unclean” himself.  He could have upheld the expectations placed upon him by maintaining ritual purity, but as we know, Jesus rejects ritual if it forsakes a person’s wellbeing.

After the man is healed, Jesus offers a peculiar command.  First, he tells the man to go show himself to the priest and offer sacrifice.  This tells us of the value of the temple community.   Persons suffering from recognizable disease were often cast out of the community, and that disownment was justified by saying the person’s ailments were the product of sinful living.  In the ninth chapter of John’s gospel, the disciples ask Jesus whose sin caused a person to be blind.  Jesus tells them the matter is not about sin at all.  So here, we see the same prevailing mistreatment of those who may need love and grace the most is what upsets Jesus.  The pity felt is an indictment of the lack of response of the community caring for its member by emphasizing difference rather than embracing similarity.

Jesus could have told the man, “Yeah, you’re healed now, but don’t go back to them.   They’re terrible people and you shouldn’t be friends with them anymore.”  Instead, he commands what I would consider to be the harder option – go back and be with those who were against you.  Transform the negligent into the caring.  By being placed back into the community and given the opportunity to make a sacrifice in thanksgiving, the man was no longer defined by his disease but by membership as a child of God.

This task would not come easy.  The man would have to reunite with the oppressors – those neglecting him of his humanity – and look through years of being shamed.  Imagine eating, praying, and spending time with people who used to hurt you.  No number of “bless your hearts” would suffice.  This would be hard work.  But that is one of many expectations Christ has put upon us.  The people of Israel were looking for a warrior messiah to rescue them from oppression of conquering nations, just as many today expect Christ to come to quash the world and uplift the truly religious.  We like to hold quiet (and sometimes not-so-quiet) resentment against others, because we hold onto a pride that says “I’m better than them.”  In today’s world, many would say the healed man had every right to take his healing and go elsewhere now that he was strong enough.  Jesus said otherwise – “I do choose to heal you.  Now be cleansed and go heal them.”

Sadly, the man did not live into the command given to him.  He disobeyed the command to “go back” and instead went out to tell others that belief was all one needed to be healed.  Many people came looking for the miracle worker Jesus rather than the rabbi stressing a renewed commitment to God.  That same characterization is why so many people turn away from the church.  Bad publicity has caused the masses to come looking for the quick-fix God in a one-stop-shop service.  People hear televangelists and trendy Christianity offer a Christ who is out to change the world by fixing personal prayer problems.  When folks come, they realize they were misguided, because they expected Christ to live up to their expectations rather than giving up themselves to live into Christ’s expectations.

The people looking for Jesus stop him from entering towns openly, because his humanity dictates he rest.  The hope behind sending the man back to the temple was to integrate he who had been healed into the community to remind others of the implicit connection between all people.  He was to be part of the transformation of bringing about God’s kindom.  Jesus could not do all of that work alone, and so, he was forced to be an outsider so he could afford to rest.  Christ expects others to do his work, so that we do not inundate the kingdom with our desires and thus choke out God’s original intentions.  This is the function of the church body: to offer God’s grace to others in hopes of bringing about the kindom of God into the world.

Have hope, my friends.  Christ lives in and through the church in its mission to commit good in this world now.  You, Belmont, have demonstrated that living with Christ’s expectations can and will bring about beautiful things.  You offer a worship space in this very room for our friends of the Golden Triangle Fellowship.  You offer sanctuary and care to today’s victims of society casting out of the helpless with Room in the Inn.  You go to God’s beloved in Malawi.  You give real opportunity to our dear friends in Homeplace.  These examples are real testaments to the power of Christ in the world today – that doing the work of God takes time and patience but also brings about the community of faith responsible for changing the world.  Jesus told the man to be clean and return to make a difference for others.  You have made that difference to so many.

We are connected intrinsically through each other and God, and we should be willing to assist in the healing and cleansing of the ills that plague the world, so go out and do good works in faith.  Be bold in love; be patient and graceful.  You are called as God’s holy church to bring about something beautiful.  Christ expects it.

Amen.

   

Sermon transcript for February 5, 2012

Everyone is Searching for You
Mark 1:29-39
Belmont UMC—February 2-5-12
Ken Edwards, preaching

Audio - MP3

There is a tone of urgency in the Gospel of Mark. Mark skips the details of Jesus’ birth and childhood and moves straight to John the Baptist, Jesus’ baptism, a brief mention of the wilderness temptation (no mention of fasting), the call of the disciples and then the beginning of Jesus’ ministry. And we are still in the first chapter. Mark’s favorite word is “immediately” and the word, which adds to the sense of urgency, comes up frequently in the first chapter.

Today’s story needs to be set in its context. The work of Jesus had been focused on the area near Capernaum, which is alongside the Sea of Galilee, the home of the fishermen whom Jesus called as disciples. The people of the area have been astonished by Jesus’ teaching and even more so by his authority over suffering. Last week’s story focused on his teaching in the synagogue and the deliverance of man suffering from an evil spirit. Mark writes, “At once his fame began to spread throughout the surrounding region of Galilee.” (v. 28)

Today’s text finds Jesus and the disciples entering the house of Simon and Andrew, only to find Simon’s mother-in-law sick with fever. Jesus heals the woman and by evening the whole city has converged outside the door. Jesus begins to heal and restore those who ill. Sometime after midnight Jesus escapes to a quiet place to pray and here in the first chapter we get a glimpse of the pattern of Jesus’ life and the rhythm of service and prayer.

Simon and the other disciples do not understand Jesus’ need for solitude and they go to find him. The verb here has a hostile tone to it that is often missing in the translations, but Common English Bible translates it best with “they tracked him down.” They have come to tell Jesus, “Everyone is searching for you.”  Jesus tells them that his mission is to go to other towns to share God’s message.

“Everyone is searching for you.” Throughout the gospel stories crowds of people are attracted to Jesus. At one time he was standing beside the water and so many people came to see and hear him that he had to get in a boat and teach them from there. In our minds we can imagine the scene of people pressing in on him. (Mk 4:1-2) Another, more familiar time there were thousands who gathered to hear and see him and Jesus instructed the disciples to feed them. (Mk. 8:1-10)

Who are these people who are searching for Jesus and what do they hope to find?
Luke describes the people during the time of John the Baptist and Jesus as “being filled with expectation.” (Luke 3:15) One of my professors used to paraphrase this and say “the people were on tiptoe with expectation” or “on the edge of their seats” with expectation. They were people who felt the oppression of the Roman government and they longed for liberation. There was a deep longing within them for God to come among them and do something to turn things around. There was a deep spiritual hunger and thirst among the people. “Everyone is searching for you, Jesus!”

They were some people who were physically ill and desperate. In a time when health care was limited and when disease was often associated with God’s judgment, and often meant alienation from community life, there was a longing for wholeness. To be made whole carried with it the possibility of being liberated from suffering and a return to the fellowship of others.

Everyone is searching for you, Jesus! Those words continue to be contemporary. We have gathered here as those who are searching for Jesus. I worked alongside my good friend, David, for many years and he would always greet the church on Sunday morning with, “For whatever reason you find yourself here this morning, God greets you and welcomes you!” We have all gathered here with searching hearts. Yes, I’m here because I have certain responsibilities, but I come here each week searching and longing to be with you, to experience God’s presence in your presence. I come here each week, like you, with a deep hunger for God’s grace.

We may not know what brought us here this day, but we know that all those around us come with some human need. When I took a preaching class several years ago at our Lake Junaluska, NC, our professor took us through a series of exercises before we could begin to write. One of those exercises invited us to spend 15-30 minutes with the question, “Who is in the room?” And by that question he did not mean for us to answer with names, Mary, Bill, John, Amy, etc, but to answer with life situations and needs. Who is in this room? It’s a good question as you begin to look around your well loved seat. Who are the people around you and what are their needs? What are their greates joys? What are the longings of their hearts? How can we make them feel more welcomed? Everyone is searching!

I first met Andy when he was in the hospital; when he had his first cancer diagnosis. Someone asked us how we became such good friends and I quickly answered, “We became friends because from the first minute we met, Andy welcomed me into his life and made me feel at home in his presence.” I’d never really thought about it until those words flowed out in response. How many people come in here and need to find people who welcome them and make them feel at home in their presence?  I remember greeting a woman named Pam at the church one Sunday morning. When I asked, “Is this your first time here?” she answered, “No, I’ve been here at least 6 times before; this is the first time I ever got out of the car. If I had known I would be welcomed this way, I would have come in that first time.” Some of us here may have come anxious and reluctant but everyone is searching.  

There are folks among us who have come with deep spiritual hungers that they cannot identify. I remember a friend in college who sat near me in English class and often talked with me in the hallway. I wanted to share my faith story with him but I was reluctant. One day he blurted out, “I don’t what you have that I don’t have, but I want it. After class we’ll go for coffee and you can tell me about it.” I took that as an opening.

Some of us are searching for healing and wholeness. Some of us have experienced brokenness and suffering. Some of us are grieving. Some of us are fearful. Some of us are trying to break free from addictions and unhealthy life patterns. Some of us are suffering from a wounded sense of self and we will have trouble believing that God loves us or that anyone could love us. Some are us on the verge of giving up. Some of us are optimistic and hopeful. Some of us are struggling with doubts. Some of us are joyful and celebrating. Some of us are lonely and isolated.  Who is in the room? Everyone is searching for you, Jesus!

You have heard me say before that “Everyone” has to be one of God’s favorite words! Everyone is searching! In the Gospels the disciples find Jesus, but in life Jesus finds us and comes to us with grace and hope and healing. Jesus meets us here today and bids everyone to come to his table to feast on the graciousness of God.

LITANY: I invite you to join in a litany of response by saying the word “everyone” at the end of each sentence.

Everyone is searching for Jesus.
Everyone!
Everyone is invited to this table.
Everyone!
Everyone is welcomed at this table.
Everyone!
Everyone who is hungry and thirsty for the grace of God.
Everyone!
Everyone who is searching and uncertain of their faith.
Everyone!
Everyone who has ever felt rejected at other tables.
Everyone!
Everyone who is in need of God’s love.
Everyone!

   

Sermon transcript for January 22, 2012

The First Steps of Faith
Mark 1:14-20
Belmont UMC—January 22, 2012
Ken Edwards, preaching

Audio - MP3

Last week I spoke of having our spiritual senses awakened so that we can hear and see what God wants us to hear and see, to know God’s purpose for us. I encouraged us to first look close at hand to see the ways in which God’s purposes are already being fulfilled in our lives, in our relationships with friends, family, co-workers, and neighbors. Sometimes we miss the obvious or we look for something more interesting or exotic, but what we need to see is right in front of us.

Today’s Gospel passage is the call of the fisherman who would become Jesus’ disciples—Simon Peter and Andrew, James and John. Peter and Andrew are casting their nets into the Sea of Galilee and James and John are busy mending their nets. As he walked along the Sea of Galilee Jesus calls out to them, “Follow me!” And they put down their nets and followed him.

This is in Mark’s Gospel and Mark’s short, concise telling of the Jesus story does not offer a lot of detail. We wonder if there was a verbal exchange, questions and answers, “Follow you, where?” “Who are you?” Some believe that these four had been followers of John the Baptist and their hearts and minds were already primed to become followers of Jesus, others refer to this calling and immediate response as a miracle, much like Jesus saying to a man who was lame, “Take up your bed and walk!” (Barbara Brown Taylor, “Miracle on the Beach”)

“Follow me!” Every week we gather here and we hear Jesus call, “Follow me!” I have a purpose for your life! It’s interesting that most Rabbis would not have called their followers in the way Jesus did. They would have interviewed potential disciples and chose from among them the most astute, the brightest and the best. Jesus walked among the common folks and called them to follow. He called the fisherman, the tax collector, the zealot, the thief, the doubter and he calls each of us to follow as well. He doesn’t wait until we are well credentialed or have finished our in-service training on discipleship. He says, “Follow me!” and bids us to come with him on this adventurous journey of faith.  

Are we ready to follow Jesus? Are we ready for this journey?  The story suggests a couple of things that we will need to do to follow Jesus.

First, we will need to let go of our nets. We will have to let go of the things that keep us from following Jesus. It means letting go of our security, our control, our fear of failure,  our “set in our ways” mode of doing things, our personal agendas, our past, and many of our preconceived notions and assumptions.



I remember learning to swim. I had had a scary experience once in the creek when I was a child. I fell in and went under and it seemed like a long time of struggling and gulping creek water before someone grabbed my shirt and pulled me to safety. It was probably seconds but I was convinced that I was going to drown.

When I went to the city pool and watched folks dive into the water and glide through the water with long, smooth, graceful strokes, I wanted to swim. There I was in the pool, holding firmly to the side, terrified and Dad said, “If you don’t let go, you’ll never learn to swim.” When I did let go I realized that I could swim a little bit. It wasn’t pretty, but it felt good. Later on swimming lessons would add to my gracefulness. We have to learn to let go to follow Jesus.

A rich young man came to Jesus. He wanted to follow Jesus but Jesus said, “First, you have to let go of all the things that own you and demand your allegiance, the things that hold you back.” And that young man walked away dejected because he was not able to let go.

The first time I preached was a letting go experience. The first time I visited a prison was a letting go experience. The first time I hosted homeless guests was a letting go experience. The first time I walked into an ICU was a letting go experience. The first time I spoke up for the poor before a City Commissioner meeting was a letting go experience. The first time I sat with a dying friend was a letting go experience. This whole journey is been a process of letting go of so we can take up God’s purposes.

I want to share a story that I’ve shared before but I think it’s important. I preached a sermon like this one time at my last appointment and a young mother came up to me after the service and she asked, “What do think God wants me to do? What is God’s call on my life?” Her question made me rethink how I preach this type of sermon because that young woman spent her days caring for her invalid mother and her nights doing hours of homework with her young son who was struggling in school. I knew this and I said to her, “I think you are already doing God’s work. I can’t imagine God calling you to do anything more noble or more important at this time in your life.” And she cried at the thought of it.

Letting go of your nets doesn’t mean that you quit your job and go to seminary. But this is what it means. When that young woman went to stay with her mother and work with her son the next day it felt different to her, and she said so; it felt meaningful and rich and sacred. Some fishermen and women won’t need to literally put down their nets to follow Jesus, but I can promise you the nets won’t ever feel the same in their hands; the nets will feel purposeful and holy, because they are God’s nets, not ours.





Barbara Brown Taylor says it this way, “It may mean doing something different with the fish you catch, or spending money they bring at the market in a different way. It may mean reorganizing the whole fishing business so that the drifters down at the pier have work to do, and so that everyone who works receives a decent wage.” (“Miracle on the Beach,” Home by Another Way” p. 41) “Follow me” means that the work of the doctor, the attorney, the accountant, the custodian, the teacher, will not feel the same anymore--it will feel like God’s work. It will be God’s work.

Jesus says, “Follow me!” and the next thing we must do is to take those first steps of faith. Faith is action. Faith is when we let go of the side of the pool and make those primitive attempts to swim. It may not be graceful at first but it’s still an act of faith.

When I was a boy someone told me that faith is like standing on the ledge of a burning building. Firefighters have gathered below and are holding a huge net and yelling, “Jump!” Faith, I was told, does not happen when I believe I can jump or I believe the firefighters will catch me. Faith happens when I step out into thin air and make my rapid descent. Faith happens when we step out to follow.

The church tends to rewrite this Gospel story. In our version of the story Jesus walked along the shore of The Galilean Sea and he found some folks and preached his ever popular “Follow Me” sermon. Those who gathered were enthralled by his words. There even a few “Amens!” and they sang a hymn or two, took up an offering and invited him to come back the next week to repeat the performance.

But that’s not what happened! Jesus said, “Follow me!” and they dropped their nets and left old Zebedee sitting in the boat with this mouth open with surprise and they followed in faith. And their faith, their action, would ultimately turn the world upside down and the course of human history would hinge on this lakeside miracle.

I served a church that mostly operated out of fear. These fears were most often expressed in Finance Committee meetings where the words, “We can’t do that!” were expressed each month. We operated out of fear all the time and I bought into it for a long time. One month I was asked to do the centering for that committee and I led them in saying the Apostles’ Creed and then I said, “There a lots of positive things happening around here and those alone should give us courage. (And I listed them.)  How can we say we can’t or we’re afraid when we serve this God in whom all things are possible, the Maker of heaven and earth? I absolutely refuse to be afraid anymore.” And that was a turning point in our church life because we promised each other that we would start stepping out in faith to transform the world.

(The Finance Committee here doesn’t avoid the reality of our financial status, but the focus of our time together is positive, hopeful and ministry and mission focused. We don’t have a fear factor in our budget but we have a line called the “faith factor,” because we believe that God has called us to do great things.)

We gather here each Sunday and we affirm our faith in a God who has the power to create heaven and earth, the God of justice and compassion, whose love for us never fails, who is our Rock and our Refuge. This God came to live among us and reveals God’s self to us in Jesus Christ. We believe in the God who has the power of forgiveness, the power of transformation and even the power of resurrection. We, the church, offer affirmations of faith but we must not leave this place to live affirmations of doubt, reluctance, restraint, and fear.

Because the world in need out there--the poor, the hungry, the disenfranchised, the immigrant, the imprisoned, the marginalized, the grieving and the lonely, the homeless, the bullied and belittled, await a church that is fearless and ready to follow Jesus.

The Apostle Paul said, “I can do all things, through Christ who strengthens me!” “We can do all things through Christ who strengthens us!” May this be our affirmation of faith as we journey with Jesus!

   

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