Yesterday, Sunday, Nov. 18 was the first time the church where I serve has been filled to near capacity on a Sunday morning since I joined the congregation in January of this year. It wasn't because an overwhelming number of the members of my congregation were in attendance, actually I'd say our numbers were considerably underwhelming. It was because we had a joint service with the Korean congregation that rents the building from us (it's a bit more complicated than that) and because I invited members of another church, La Iglesia de Jesucristo, a Spanish speaking immigrant church, that also wants to rent space from us (we are in the process of finalizing a contract).
The Korean pastor and I both preached on Isaiah 65:17-25. A glimpse was had of people dwelling with one another without the threat of something bad happening.
We also enjoyed a delicious Thanksgiving meal, complete with Kimchi.
Monday, November 19, 2007
Sunday, November 4, 2007
Hechos 10
¿Para Donde Nos Llevan las Visiones?
Predicado en iglesia presbiteriana (nombre), Tuxpan, Michoacán.
Predicado en iglesia presbiteriana (nombre), Tuxpan, Michoacán.
¿Para dónde nos llevan las visiones?
Sueños, visiones, ¿de dónde vienen? ¿Por qué existen?
Nos llevan hacer cosas buenas y malas. Nos llevan a lograr cosas que nunca esperabamos; o llegar a etapas difíciles. Visiones: Lo que los políticos esperan que suene bien al pueblo. Sueños: lo que empuja a tantas personas viajar a mundos lejanos. Tal vez es visión de otros que nos cambia la vida o que nos motiva movernos (véase el ejemplo de Mario en la tapa de la revista Time: Feb 2006. Él es miembro de esa iglesia en Tuxpan.)
También fue visión de otros que me motivaba mudarme al DF donde pasé dos años de mi vida para trabajar con jóvenes en una comunidad cristiana con un equipo. Se me hizo la decisión fácil cuando Trasie, en aquel tiempo mi novia y ahora mi esposa, había decidido ser parte del equipo también.
Sueños de pastores para sus iglesias. visión de CH Diebol, el hombre que vino hace años atrás para formar una amistad con varias iglesias de Michoacán. Es, por una gran parte, la razón que nosotros de nuestra iglesia en los EEUU estamos aquí hoy.
En el cuento de esta mañana, vemos a dos personas que tenían visiones, sueños que cambiaron sus vidas para siempre.
El primero fue Cornelio (lee v. 3b)
Cornelio un hombre rico, un hombre de poder en la sociedad. Un hombre no cristiano ni judío, sino un gentile que sin embargo temía a dios y ayudaba a los necesitados. La visión que tuvo no dice para que Cornelio debe hacer venir Pedro a su casa. No dice que van a hacer un trabajo juntos como pintar el edificio de la iglesia. Ni que viene a convertirle a un seguidor de Jesús. Ni siquiera presentarle con la doctrina de Calvino. Entonces ¿para qué le invite a pedro a su casa?
De todos modos tuvo una visión Cornelio y se lo hizo en seguida.
En cambio, Pedro, uno de los discípulos más importantes, tal vez el más importante, el que vio al resucitado, el que hizo milagros en el nombre de Jesús. Este hombre Pedro también suele tener una visión, pero al tenerla, ¿Cómo se reacciona? Se preocupa, duda, y no entiende la visión.
A ver el cuento del sueño: Pues si Pedro llega a una casa muriéndose de hambre: --La comida estará listo en seguida—le dice el mayordomo (tocayo). --Bueno pues, me subo a la azotea para orar; compromiso--.
Ahí en la azotea ve cosas bien raras; algo como sabana que baja del cielo y pinturas de animales que los judíos no puede comer por su religión.
--Pedro, mata y come—dice una voz. Una gran tentación. Tenía tanta hambre Pedro, pero es judío y no se permite. –Mata y come PEDRO--. ¡No puedo comer algo impuro! Responde. –Mata y come… ¡No!
Después de la tercera vez la voz dice: --Lo que Dios a purificado no lo llames tú profano--. Pedro se queda con al duda…confusión. Pero ya los hombres de Cornelio están en la puerta y no le queda mas tiempo pensar. –Vete con ellos—le dice el Espíritu Santo…¡Apúrate hombre!
Pues sí, era una visión rara, pero además, es mucho riesgo que Pedro se encuentra con Cornelio. Cornelio tiene poder y fama. Le puede arrestar, le podría detener; le podría matar aun. Además, Pedro, por su religión no debe tratarse con un extranjero. Podría ser rechazado por su propio pueblo.
Pero también arriesga mucho Cornelio al invitarle a Pedro a su casa. Como hombre de poder y fama al tratarse con un extranjero que también es seguidor de Jesús ¿perderá su honor? ¿Qué le van a decir su gente tratarse con un judío pobre? Y que pasa si Pedro lo rechaza y no viene…una desgracia. O si Pedro lo regaña por su religión..o trata de convertirlo en un judío y le dice que ya no puede comer carne roja o aún peor que Cornelio tiene que…pues le obliga …¿saben? Circuncidarse! Ouch! Pues sí, ¡corre riesgo Cornelio también!
Pues sí es mucho riesgo para cualquiera persona encontrarse…tratarse con un desconocido; que sea extranjero, de otra religión, de otro pueblo; de otra perspectiva política. Es mucho riesgo aún teniendo una visión que te impulsa irte con otro; tratarse con alguien diferente. Ahora que nosotros como un grupo extranjero nos encuentra con ustedes, ¿cómo nos informa esta historia de Hechos? ¿Cuales son unos de los riesgos que corremos nosotros al estar juntos? ¿Ser rechazados? Manipulado? Controlado por otro? Podemos experimentar la venganza de Monctezuma!
Todo cristiano tiene comisión:
compartir las buenas nuevas
encontrarse con otros que tal vez no creen exactamente lo mismo como tú;
y sobre todo participar en la misión de Dios.
Y ahí encontramos el chiste; la parte clave; la bisagra del episodio de Cornelio y Pedro. Antes de irse Pedro donde Cornelio estaba ¿ya estuvo Dios? De hecho Dios había llegado a Cornelio en una visión antes de que Pedro recibiera su visión. Entonces ¿de quién era la misión? ¿De Cornelio? ¿De Pedro? O ¿era la misión de Dios mismo?
Lo que me fascina de este cuento es el hecho de que Pedro al encontrarse con el extranjero Cornelio sin decir nada; mas bien al escuchar el testimonio de uno que tenía otra cultura y costumbres aún otra religión y descubrió que tan grande es Dios: —Ahora comprendo que en realidad para Dios no hay favoritismos, sino que en toda nación él ve con agrado a los que le temen y actúan con justicia. (Hechos 10:34-35 NVI).
¿Para dónde nos llevan los sueños—las visiones que tenemos?
¿Con quien nos encontramos ahí? Y ¿Qué tan abiertos somos a descubrir algo de Dios—más bien de al misión de Dios en el encuentro?
En 1874, Rev. Antonio Greybill junto con su nueva esposa, partió de su casa en Virginia hacia México montado en caballo. Siguió una visión y se encontraban en la casa de una viuda, Doña Josefina y sus hijos Virginia y Leandro Garza Mora en Matamoros. Antes de llegar, esa familia había recibido una Biblia durante la guerra de 1848. También recibieron esos misioneros.
El hijo Leandro, que trabajaba en un bar, ofreció enseñarles español. Greybill y Garza Mora se hicieron amigos y mas, la historia de Garza Mora es una de “primeras.” Fue el primer presbiteriano Mexicano, el primer estudiante de la misión, el primer ministro ordenado de México, el primer moderado del presbiterio de Tamaulipas, el primer evangelista general del presbiterio y el primer representante del Sínodo General de México enviado a Escoses en 1904 para la junta de la Alianza Mundial de Iglesias Reformadas.1
¿Preparó Dios los corazones de ambas familias Greybill y Garza Mora entes del encuentro? Y miren..¿Cómo salió la misión?
Y ahora estamos en otra etapa de la historia. Una etapa en que se encuentra la globalización y la tecnología súper avanzada; inmigración de todas las países y familias separadas; muchas visiones y sueños de mejores vidas y muchas preguntas de cómo iglesias de distintos países deben relacionarse mientras tantos se van a los EEUU y el EEUU propone construir un muro por toda la frontera.
¿Qué quiere Dios que nos descubremos? ¿Quién de nosotros es mas como Pedro? ¿Quién es mas como Cornelio? ¿Qué descubrimos de Dios mismo en el encuentro? Pues para nosotros de nuevo México tal vez descubrimos la hospitalidad que nos dan, el compromiso a la iglesia, sobre todo a través de su participación con el coro; y la pasión de jóvenes para el evangelio. Tal vez descubrimos algo de la cultura mexicana para mejor poder abrir las puertas de nuestras casas y de nuestra iglesia al extranjero mexicano que vive circa de nosotros en un país ajeno. Y al abrir nuestras casa e iglesias al extranjero—al desconocido—con corazones abiertos y con humildad como Cornelio seguimos aprendiendo más y más de que tan grande es Dios y que maravilloso es su obra de misión.
Y sabemos aquí en este encuentro que es la visión mas importante—la que nos lleva por muchas partes como Pedro; nos puede guiar en cualquier momento es lo que afirma Pedro al final del encuentro en versículos 38 – 40a:
“Me refiero a Jesús de Nazaret: cómo lo ungió Dios con el Espíritu Santo y con poder, y cómo anduvo haciendo el bien y sanando a todos los que estaban oprimidos por el diablo, porque Dios estaba con él.39 Nosotros somos testigos de todo lo que hizo en la tierra de los judíos y en Jerusalén. Lo mataron, colgándolo de un madero,40 pero Dios lo resucitó al tercer día….”
¡Qué poder tiene esa visión—ese sueño! ¿Para dónde y hacia quien nos lleva ese sueño de la historia de Jesús de Nazaret? Entregarse la vida para otras personas. Nos lleva a la mesa a compartir pan y la copa juntos—a convivir alrededor de la mesa juntos. A descubrir algo de Dios y de su misión al compartir lo que Dios ha hecho en nuestras vidas.
Sunday, October 28, 2007
My Dad Can Beat Up Your Dad, Luke 18:9-14
Luke 18:9-14:
He also told this parable to some who trusted in themselves that they were righteous and regarded others with contempt: 10‘Two men went up to the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector. 11The Pharisee, standing by himself, was praying thus, “God, I thank you that I am not like other people: thieves, rogues, adulterers, or even like this tax-collector. 12I fast twice a week; I give a tenth of all my income.” 13But the tax-collector, standing far off, would not even look up to heaven, but was beating his breast and saying, “God, be merciful to me, a sinner!” 14I tell you, this man went down to his home justified rather than the other; for all who exalt themselves will be humbled, but all who humble themselves will be exalted.’
“My dad can beat up your dad.” That’s just the beginning. Next it’s, “I can out do you.” “I’m smarter than you;” “I’m better than you at soccer, at tennis, at bridge.”
“U-G-L-Y, you ain’t got no alibi you ugly.” This is how things begin. Kid’s stuff right. Show everyone just how good we are; at least how good we are compared to some people.
Last night we had a great time at the club de chicas y chicos Halloween fiesta—kids carving pumpkins, roasting hotdogs and marshmallows, games including bobbing for apples. The kids gathered around the wheelbarrow full of water and apples. At first they went one at a time, and everyone kind of delicately dipped their heads into the pool, gently trying to gather an apple between their teeth.
I was getting bored so I said, “Alright, now see who can get the apple the fastest.
Antonio versus Scarlette…” The two dive in, I won’t say who won, but the effort certainly was increased. Then Trasie said “Gigi vs. her friend Lauren”, and both whom had been standing back just watching as if they couldn’t care less, dove in after those apples, their faces underwater. In seconds Gigi emerged triumphant, arms in the air, and water pouring all across her front!
We love to compete; to compare with others.
Jesus tells a story to some who trusted in themselves that they were righteous and regarded others with contempt. The story is about two guys, “a good guy” –The Pharisee, and a “bad” guy—a tax collector—who just so happen to be going up to the church to pray together. Well, not exactly pray together, they just happen to be there at the same time. The really good guy goes first, lays it all out there before God, kind of…. “Oh God look at me. Now, consider the worst people around; you know all those terrible people out there, I mean, just look at that loser over there, a tax collector of all people. God, I am great; I am about as perfect as you can get.” In reality what does he lay out there before God?
He just talks about what he is not like; then he talks about all these “Good” things he does—praying, fasting, tithing...
But who is he? We know what he is not like. We know what he does. But who is he? Does he know?
And then it comes right back to us? Who are you? Who am I? Do we know?
Or does it take looking at others; particularly others who we think are doing things worse than we are, and defining ourselves over and against them.
This “good” guy “has found no certainty in himself and is evidently suffering from lack of personality;” so in his anxiety he makes others out to be terrible people, so that he can think himself all that.1
So the good guy is an upstanding citizen who fasts twice a week and tithes…
This guy is actually a model church-goer! If only we could live up to his example of moral conduct. Not to mention his fasting praying and tithing. This world is hurting for prayer; and of course stewardship season begins next month!
But, apparently, according to Jesus: He’s done something wrong. Even though he thought he was doing everything right—Right in the eyes of all the people, right in the eyes of the law. But, when he left the temple and went home, he was not justified.
The person who did leave the church justified was the tax-collector—the “bad” guy. He was up there praying too: but he stood off to the side, would not look up to heaven [which I suppose is where we get the tradition of bowing our heads in prayer]; but beat his breast [so why don’t we beat our chests?] and cries, “Lord, BE MERCIFUL, I am a sinner!” In that phrase, he has spoken from his heart; “he has uttered the complete truth about himself. He is a ‘sinner’—before God, before the law, before the standards of his own people, and before himself.”2
He has spoken directly about himself. He has not tried to make excuses for his own shortcomings; he is not looking toward the shortcomings of others to make himself feel better. He is simply claiming a reality about himself. “I, sinner.” I have messed up. I have done others wrong, I have done myself wrong. I need mercy from the one who is merciful. “This one went home justified.” Jesus said.
What is the difference in these two? Why is one justified and not the other?
I think the Pharisee didn’t go home justified because he didn’t go home free.
He left still so worried about what others thought of him, and worried about all the things he had to do to prove himself; he didn’t really seem too concerned about what God thought of him. He had not received mercy, nor did he understand what it meant to receive mercy.
Do you remember when we talked about mercy a few weeks ago; my buddy who would say “mercy” when an attractive young lady walked by?
Let’s think about mercy again for a second: Was there a time in our lives before we knew the good news? Do we remember the time before we knew we were loved and forgiven? The time before we were called to be disciples? This was the time of “pre-mercy.” In the time of “pre-mercy,” we have to reinvent ourselves every day, we face daily pressure to achieve, accomplish and impress. Good enough to impress our parents or our boss; smart enough to impress our teachers and peers; and romantic enough to impress our significant other. “But of course it is never enough; Because then, then, the next day it has to be done all over again, until we’re simply exhausted and left in despair.” Do you remember: Once you had not received mercy.3
This was the world of this Pharisee.
The other one, the tax-collector cried out: “God be merciful, I am a sinner.”
“This one went home justified.” Jesus said. He left there free, not worrying about what other’s thought or said, but having stood naked before the one who is merciful and pleads for mercy. This one went home justified.
Did he change his evil ways and stop ripping people off? We don’t know? But even by asking that kind of question of the tax-collector, we might be slipping off into the realm of Pharisee, judging what this bad guy should be doing.
Who are we to compare ourselves to other people, to compete against others to make ourselves look better? We can only stand before God—have God see us just as we are. We can cry for mercy, and trust that our loving God is merciful. God is merciful, God loves us. Do we believe this? That we are recipients of mercy, even when we may forget to ask for mercy? Or do we have to go around looking for other ways to feel good about ourselves.
I love to think I am such a good husband because I don’t do a lot of things that some of Trasie’s friend’s husbands do. I like to think I’m such a good citizen because I stay informed, I participate in public life, I’m a Presbyterian minister.
I like to think I’m such a good environmental steward because I recycle and I catch shower water in a bucket and use that water to flush the toilet. How many of you do these things? Ya’ll didn’t know what you were getting when you called me to this church!!!
These are silly ways that I compare myself to others. But about they ways the we compare ourselves to others that is damaging and hurtful to the other. We look at the homeless, and say. “Why don’t you just get a job? I’ve worked hard for what I have”. Or at the women experiencing domestic violence, “Why doesn’t she just leave? She deserves it.” Or to the immigrant, we dehumanize by making them “illegals” and criminals. In our efforts to make ourselves better, we judge and we exclude others based on race, class and gender. We hurt others, we become paralyzed and imprisoned by our judgment and the walls that divide us grow taller.
“We too have come to the “temple” this morning—come to church to pray, to come before God, and to come before one another. We are seeking assurance about ourselves and about other people before God. But who gives us this assurance? We too are hungering for acceptance (recognition), for without acceptance (recognition) no one can live. What kind of acceptance do we seek?
We, too are seeking mercy in the things about ourselves that neither we nor anyone else can describe as good.” And who shows us this mercy?
Are we past these silly games of trying to make ourselves look better by saying things like: My Daddy Can beat up Your daddy? Are we ready to accept ourselves tal como somos? Just as we are each of us uniquely and wonderfully made, and then be free to love others just as they are. Not judging and comparing and holding in contempt of whatever.
We could go around comparing ourselves all day long with other people.
But it just doesn’t justify. What justifies is God’s mercy in our lives!
1 Jurgen Moltmann, “The Pharisee and the Tax Collector,” in Chorus of Witnesses, ed. Thomas Long, p. 25.
2 Jurgen Moltmann, “The Pharisee and the Tax Collector,” in Chorus of Witnesses, ed. Thomas Long, p. 27.
3 Walter Brueggemann, Inscribing the Text: Sermons and Prayers of Walter Brueggemann, pp 80-81.
Sunday, October 21, 2007
Persistent Women Appreciation: Luke 18:1-8
Luke 18:1-8:
Then Jesus told them a parable about their need to pray always and not to lose heart. 2He said, ‘In a certain city there was a judge who neither feared God nor had respect for people. 3In that city there was a widow who kept coming to him and saying, “Grant me justice against my opponent.” 4For a while he refused; but later he said to himself, “Though I have no fear of God and no respect for anyone, 5yet because this widow keeps bothering me, I will grant her justice, so that she may not wear me out by continually coming.” 6And the Lord said, ‘Listen to what the unjust judge says. 7And will not God grant justice to his chosen ones who cry to him day and night? Will he delay long in helping them? 8I tell you, he will quickly grant justice to them. And yet, when the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on earth?’
Then Jesus told them a parable about their need to pray always and not to lose heart. 2He said, ‘In a certain city there was a judge who neither feared God nor had respect for people. 3In that city there was a widow who kept coming to him and saying, “Grant me justice against my opponent.” 4For a while he refused; but later he said to himself, “Though I have no fear of God and no respect for anyone, 5yet because this widow keeps bothering me, I will grant her justice, so that she may not wear me out by continually coming.” 6And the Lord said, ‘Listen to what the unjust judge says. 7And will not God grant justice to his chosen ones who cry to him day and night? Will he delay long in helping them? 8I tell you, he will quickly grant justice to them. And yet, when the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on earth?’
When was that time in life when you reached the bottom? That time when you felt like you had nothing left to give? Nothing left inside you? You could do nothing else on your own. You were desperate. Was this the time to reach down just a little bit further? To count your losses, to forget about everything else and give it your all?
Sports seem to have really captured this idea of finding something somewhere that gives you the strength and power to go a little further: the 15th round; the 9th inning, down by a run and two out;
the fourth quarter, your team has the ball with 2 minutes left and is down by a touchdown.
But, when do we reach these times of trial in real life? When our lively hood is threatened? Our identity assaulted? When a family member or a friend had really disappointed or hurt us? When we are taken advantage of? When we’ve had to face your greatest fear?
When Jesus tells this story we heard this morning, he is making his way toward Jerusalem, where he will be beaten and killed. Maybe Jesus tells this story to disciples who are beginning to wonder if it is even worth it to go forward; to continue the good fight and preach the good news. Maybe Luke tells this story to the early Christians a few generations removed from Jesus, who are really beginning to wonder what this new movement called the way, this new movement seeking an alternative life according to the way Jesus lived. Life is lived not to gain the world or seek after one’s own interest, but to seek after the interests of others. Self giving, self sacrificing life modeled by a man who gave his life on a cross, and by others whose lives also came to tragic endings. These early Christians were probably wondering what it was all about. Why them? Why the persecutions? Why the struggle? For what?
For this woman in our parable, there was nothing else to live for. Someone wanted to do her in and she “needed justice. But, she had nothing…absolutely nothing. No money, No husband, No standing in society, no power, no resources, Nothing. Well, maybe nothing is not quite accurate. She did have something. She had the capacity to be a pest, to annoy. And, when you only have one weapon, you use it.”1 She didn’t care what others would think of her. She didn’t care about any potential negative consequences her actions may have. She didn’t care about the judge’s terrible reputation. So she goes to the judge who is not a typical “Your Honor.” This judge didn’t respect anyone. He didn’t fear God, so what would motivate him to hear out this pitiful woman’s desperate plea. No Karma/Darma factor, no golden rule, no empathy. He heard cases and said, “that’s your problem, not mine!” He simply didn’t care. But this widow in Jesus’ story doesn’t care either. She doesn’t care that the judge has a careless attitude. She pesters this judge constantly. Day and night she would bang on this judges office door,
she would cry out from the chambers of the courtroom, send him annoying emails and text messages. “I want justice! I need Justice. Give me justice!”
We’ve all met people who annoy like this woman. The youngest of three and only boy, I was kind of an annoying kid to my parents, especially to my mom. I loved to play the why game, usually in the car when there was nowhere for my mother to escape to. Any time she said anything I would ask “Why.” How was your day at school? “Why” And when I was hungry—I was terrible—I would stand in the kitchen, “I’m hungry, When are we going to eat?” I would sing terribly annoying songs: “I’m hungry I’m hungry. I’m hungry, Give me food.” And just like that food appeared. I gave my mom grey hair; this judge was probably bald after this woman drove him crazy: “I want justice! I need Justice. Give me justice!”
So, he gives in. And just like that there was justice.
This is the story Jesus told so that we might pray always and not lose heart.
So what do you make of it? What do two characters: A judge and a widow, teach us disciples as we listen intently? A judge who couldn’t care about anything, who finally gives in. “Maybe what Jesus is teaching us is that, even though the headlines in the newspaper often show a world of corruption and evil,” even though we face any number of difficulties and disappointments in our lives;
“this is, after all, our Father’s world; a world ruled by a loving and just God;”
Can we trust that at the end of the day, there will be justice? “Is that what Jesus wants us to see?”2
To be sure that is part of it. I find it always helpful to be reminded of how much God loves and cares for me; to hear of the sovereignty of God—that’s so Presbyterian. But if this were all to this parable its moral would have been:
“God will take care of all your worries.” “Let go and let God.”
But, Jesus told this parable of the unjust judge and the persistent widow, “In order that we might pray always and not lose heart.”
Ah yes, of course, there’s the old annoying widow who is also part of this story.
The model of faith, and the model of what it means to pray. I came across many examples of this kind of pesky persistence; and interestingly, most all of them were persistent women.
Trasie and I watched the film Out of Africa last week. There was a scene of Karen Blixen, a dutchess from Denmark, getting down on her knees before the new governor at his welcoming party, begging him not to remove the Kikuyu from their land. This was a very improper thing to do, but Karen didn’t care about anyone’s indignant stare. She demanded justice for the Kikuyu people.
At age 90, Mrs. Doris Haddock—the kids refer to her as “Granny D"— walked for 14-months, 3200-miles across the United States to protest the corrupting effect of big money in our electoral process.
Cindy Sheehan—the woman who upon the death of her son in Iraq, camped out at President George Bush’s Ranch demanding to speak with President Bush face to face.
And what about that persistent woman, Mother Teresa. I pity any “judge” that had her knocking at the door. Seeking to raise money for an AIDS hospice, Mother Teresa called out to Edward Bennett Williams, a legendary Washington lawyer who was loaded, who at one time owned the Washington Redskins and the Baltimore Orioles, who was the lawyer for Frank Sinatra and Richard Nixon, among others. Surely he would give to her plea for justice. But, Williams and his law partner, Paul Dietrich, had decided not to make a contribution. Still they wanted to meet this Catholic saint, so they would be polite, hear her out, but then say no.
The day came for the meeting. Mother Teresa “was a little sparrow sitting on the other side of the lawyer's big mahogany desk. She made her appeal for the hospice, and Williams said, “We're touched by your appeal, but no.” “Well,” Mother Teresa said as she looked at the men, “Let us pray.” Williams looked at his partner; they bowed their heads. After the prayer Mother Teresa made the same pitch, word for word, for the hospice. Again Williams politely said no.
“I see,” Mother Teresa said, “Let us pray.” Williams, exasperated, looked up at the ceiling, “All right, all right, get me my checkbook!”3
Is this what Jesus trying to tell us to do: annoy like Granny D, pester like Cindy Sheehan, use prayer like Mother Teresa, cry out like the widow: “bang on the doors of heaven with insistence.”
To be sure, Jesus wants disciples to act likewise—to be persistent in prayer. Maybe even get a little feisty with God. “We want justice.” But maybe that's not all. “If that were the whole meaning of Jesus' story, then the moral of the story would be “Be feisty. Pray always.” But the moral of this story is, “Pray always and don't lose heart.”4
This moral of the story leads to two problems for me:
Pray always. This is a problem for me; and I don’t think prayer is a problem just for me, but probably for most of us. What am I supposed to say? Am I really talking to God or am I only speaking to myself? I’ve already confessed to you that I’m uncertain about prayer. And really, when we pray, we are putting out faith on the line. Is there a God or not? Is there a God who cares for us, who hears and responds? These are frightening questions.
Maybe that’s why so many don’t even bother to pray. “If God really cares for us and knows what we need, why do we need to pray?” some may say. “It’s kind of old-fashioned,” Others quip. “It’s a little self-righteous,” suggest others.
But really prayer is a great risk of faith!5
2nd problem: don’t lose heart.
“The problem beneath all of our problems with prayer is exactly what Jesus addresses here: We simply lose heart.
If we really believed in the power of prayer; if we really believed that prayer can effect world peace; if we were truly convinced that prayer changes things;
heals broken lives and restores severed relationships,”6
then I guarantee, that this sanctuary would be pact on Thursday mornings at 7:30 am, and probably every other morning. We would wear knee pads; pray constantly. Nothing—No work schedule or busy life—could keep us from praying.
But, instead, we don’t do it. We find we are too busy to pray. And we find we are constantly confronted by the appalling injustices around us:
Why do children continue to starve?
Why is there increasing economic disparity?
Why are families divided due to deportations?
Families torn apart by domestic violence?
Why do wars continue to wreak havoc across the globe?
Why? Why? Why?
I simply lose heart.
Jesus told them this parable so that they would pray without stopping, and never give up hope!. From this story Jesus told, we learn something about God;
that God is so much more willing to hear our cries for justice than a crooked mean old judge. But sometimes our cry for justice seems to go unheard.
We learn something from this widow—how we need to act—pray day and night when we are faced with trials beyond anything we can bare. When an opponent would do us in. But it is hard to pray, risky to pray, and sometimes it seems irrelevant to pray.
Well, maybe “Jesus' story is not finally about the bad judge and it's not finally about the insistent widow. Maybe it's finally a story about God and about you and me.” A story about relationship between a God who is in fact loving; a God we can trust; a God who we can turn to in confidence to hear our cries and desires justice; and us, God’s beloved children.
The reality is that we have to endure many hardships in this life. Do we remember? Christ ended up dying on the cross. And he told this parable to disciple so that they would pray always, and not lose heart.
What is it that keeps us going from day-to-day? What do we do when we are faced with insurmountable odds? What do we do when we reach the bottom? When we feet like there was nothing left to do? Nothing left inside you but despair? Can we reach down just a little bit further? Can we pray? Maybe not necessarily so that things will turn out exactly as we hope for, but instead so that we can grow in relationship with the one to whom we pray.
And we remember: The cross was not the last word. Resurrection came and it was the relationship that carried it through. In the face of seemingly nsurmountable odds, can we arise in the morning and pray for justice?
Can we approach mid-day banging down the doors of heaven demanding justice?
And as the sun goes down, can we lie in bed and rest assured that resurrection—life, hope, loving relationship—is the final word?
Jesus concluded the parable by saying: When the son of man comes, will he find faith on earth? Maybe because of the relationship with God, prayer gives us faith.
And Jesus challenges us to pray always, and never give up.
“In a large gathering of persons concerned about certain unfair and oppressive conditions in our society, an elderly black minister read this parable
and gave a once-sentence interpretation: ‘Until you have stood for years knocking at a locked door, your knuckles bleeding, you do not really know what prayer is.’”7
I know that I do not know what prayer is; I know I do not understand how prayer works. But, strangely when I do pray, I feel that somehow things are different. That somehow things have changed. Most likely, when I pray, I have changed, because I have grown closer to God. Most likely, when I pray, I have encountered the living God in some mysterious way.
1 Thomas Long’s sermon "Praying Without Losing Heart," Luke 18:1-8. Program #5101 on 30GoodMinutes.org.
2 Thomas Long’s sermon "Praying Without Losing Heart," Luke 18:1-8. Program #5101 on 30GoodMinutes.org.
3 Adapted from the story as told by Thomas Long, in his sermon "Praying Without Losing Heart," Luke 18:1-8. Program #5101 on 30GoodMinutes.org.
4 Thomas Long’s sermon "Praying Without Losing Heart," Luke 18:1-8. Program #5101 on 30GoodMinutes.org.
5 William Willimon, 10/18/1998 - On Not Losing Heart: http://www.chapel.duke.edu/worship/sunday/viewsermon.aspx?id=94
6 William Willimon, 10/18/1998 - On Not Losing Heart: http://www.chapel.duke.edu/worship/sunday/viewsermon.aspx?id=94
7 Craddock, Texts for Preaching: Year C.
Sunday, October 14, 2007
The Grateful Leaper: Luke 17:11-19
The Grateful Leaper! Luke 17:11-19
On the way to Jerusalem Jesus was going through the region between Samaria and Galilee. As he entered a village, ten lepers approached him. Keeping their distance, they called out, saying, "Jesus, Master, have mercy on us!"
When he saw them, he said to them, "Go and show yourselves to the priests." And as they went, they were made clean. Then one of them, when he saw that he was healed, turned back, praising God with a loud voice. He prostrated himself at Jesus' feet and thanked him. And he was a Samaritan.
Then Jesus asked, "Were not ten made clean? But the other nine, where are they? Was none of them found to return and give praise to God except this foreigner?" Then he said to him, "Get up and go on your way; your faith has made you well."
La palabra de Dios. Te escuchamos, O Dios.
Leap for Joy!!! Make a joyful noise!!! Let out a great sound of joy! Of cheer, of excitement! Woohoo! What better way to give thanks for today! What better way to give praise to God for God’s mercy in our lives. Praise to God for one more day because even this day is a gift. Life is a gift. Every day. Some days better than others, but today—this is special.
It was a good day for the lepers in this morning’s story. They got up day after day, their bodies covered in sores; skin pealing away. Deformity, shame…relegated to living on the edge of town; not accepted as part of the mainstream. But they kept living. They kept hoping for something to come their way.
Jesus Approaches!
They Shout—“Unclean! Unclean!”—as the Law requires:
They Shout: “Lord, Master, we’ll call you whatever you want us to call you, just
PLEASE have Mercy.” MERCY!
Of course, mercy.
That is what they pray for, that is what they dream of; that someone would show these pathetic people rendered powerless, unclean, blemishes to society mercy, treat them as humans. Will Jesus heed their plea? Can Jesus do anything about it…? It’s worth a try, they’re desperate.
“Have mercy!”
Mercy!” That’s what my buddy from school John Curlin would always say when he got one of his tests back and saw that he passed, barely: Mercy!
He said it when he spotted an attractive young lady: Mercy. Don’t ask me why?
Mercy. That was what my sisters and I used to shout as kids around Christmas when we would drive through the really nice neighborhoods in town on a Mercy Tour…we’d see all the bright colorful lights draped over all the trees and all over the house. Mercy. We saw the giant tree inside the house all lit up, Mercy! We would shout. Don’t ask me why?
Mercy. That’s what you cry when you play that wrestling game…[demonstrate], and when you’re on your knees and your wrists are bent all the way back till you can’t take it any more you beg for mercy. Don’t ask me why?
Mercy, that’s what we pray for when we have the prayers of the people: “Lord, in your mercy”
Mercy, that’s what we sing when we do the confession. Ten Piedad.
But what does mercy mean? Ten lepers beg: “Jesus, Master, HAVE MERCY ON US.”
And as they go on their way, just as Jesus told them to do, they are made clean. And it would appear that mercy made all the difference. Does mercy make any difference in our lives?
Let’s think about mercy for a second: Was there a time in our lives before we knew the good news? Do we remember the time before we knew we were loved and forgiven? The time before we were called to be disciples? This was the time of “pre-mercy.” In the time of “pre-mercy,” we had to reinvent ourselves every day, we faced daily pressure to achieve, accomplish and impress. Good enough to impress our boss or our coach; smart enough to impress our teachers and peers; and romantic enough to impress our significant other. “But of course it is never enough; And then, and then, the next day it has to be done all over again, until we’re simply exhausted and left in despair.” Do you remember: Once you had not received mercy. (Walter Brueggemann, Inscribing the Text: Sermons and Prayers of Walter Brueggemann, pp 80-81)
“And then the miracle! The miracle is that Jesus came into the world; gathered up the stranded people and made them into a new community. He called disciples, he called little children, he called the publicans and sinners, he called tax collectors and fishermen…all sorts of people who did not belong to each other, did not know or trust each other.” (Walter Brueggemann, Inscribing the Text: Sermons and Prayers of Walter Brueggemann, pp 80-81)
But everywhere Jesus went, things were made new.
Jesus enters a no name town somewhere between Samaria and Galilee, and before he can enter that town lepers out on the edges, where they’re supposed to be, mob him: “Have Mercy!” They Cry. And he does: Of course. This is what God incarnate was about. Mercy. He had mercy on them. They were made clean; and their lives took on new meaning. Each made new.
Newness…forgiving, healing, cleansing, feeding…this was the life of Jesus: Mercy giving life back by taking the time to share his life, invest himself in others. That’s what he did, even to the very end. It is as though the whole world addressed him: “Master, have mercy on us.”
So he gave his life as a continuing act of mercy. That’s all. That’s everything. And you know: that’s what the world in its desolate anxiety does not know. That’s what sometimes I forget!
I forget that God is not a hypothesis or a good idea, but instead God is an agent who turns what was into what will be. (Walter Brueggemann, Inscribing the Text: Sermons and Prayers of Walter Brueggemann, pp 83- 84).
Mercy me! This means so much to me. “Mercy is God’s response to us, and then through us and beyond us.”
And our response to God? Jesus suggests a simple, “Thank you.” Or maybe a loud shouting and jumping up and down, “THANK YOU!”
It never hurts to get a little sign of appreciation when you have done something for someone else; when you’ve given of yourself. It’s nice when you’ve worked all day for Spanish supper to get a thank you note. You’ve worked behind the scenes at this church, at work, in our community—and someone gives you a pat on the back. I’m sure you’re all aware that this month is pastor appreciation month; I suppose it’s my job to tell everyone that right?
But even I don’t mind someone saying, Hey Chester, Thanks! Maybe this is hereditary: something I got this from my dad. No, we all like to be appreciated; even if we haven’t really done much! A little gracias. Can that be the case with God too? This mysterious God whom we worship, often times seems so simple—God appreciates a little appreciation.
This foreigner in the story from Luke—a Samaritan—probably didn’t expect to get the same treatment as the others who were Jews. He was shown mercy, healed; and came back ecstatic, praising God and showing his thanks to Jesus. Once a sad leper, he came back a grateful leaper! [Cheesy joke for the day] shouting and praising God, “Wooohhhoooo!”
A foreigner who is the model of faith shows us what thankfulness looks like.
As a Spanish speaker doing social work, Trasie works with a number of foreigners.
They’ve come to this country for any number of reasons, and now are trying to get by in this strange new world. Many are on the edges of society, in the shadows; unsure of what to expect.
One of her clients was the family of a two-year old girl who couldn’t walk or talk. They didn’t know what to do about this precious little girl when they showed up at the center. And Trasie, simply did her job, spent hours with them by going to appointments with doctors and provided counseling for the family. Most of us in that family’s situation would have really appreciated Trasie’s work, but probably thought…well she’s just doing her job. But this family extended one of the most gracious acts of appreciation they could offer. They invited Trasie, and her tag along husband, into their humble home; where we ate a wonderful feast and stayed until 11 at night! What a nice thanks!
Thank yous are nice. It’s no surprise that Jesus, while simply doing his job—healing, showing a little mercy—was hoping for just a slight recognition, just a small sign of appreciation: and one came back. Who knows maybe the other nine who didn’t come back to him were planning an upcoming Jesus appreciation banquet. But there’s there may be a little more to this thankful heart according to the passage. Now this is the kind of stuff us bible nerds really get into…yep that’s me. A Bible nerd. My dad always hoped I’d be a nerd at something. The word derived from sozo translated “made you well,” appears when Jesus says to the appreciative foreigner at the end of the story that his faith had made him well: that word means save. In other words, Jesus seems to say your faith has saved you; well duh, but what about his faith.
His faith led him to say thank you; that is what made him well. Mercy is the big difference in the lives of all the lepers. They are all made clean; but only one comes back and praises God.
Gives thanks to the one who healed, recognized him for who he is. And somehow now, salvation, not just healing, but salvation becomes part of the picture. Salvation factors into the equation.
Now issues of salvation can be tricky in the Bible: it can be talking about eternal salvation, or is there something about experiencing salvation day after day. But I would like for us to consider for a moment, that it his thankful heart, his attitude of gratitude meant salvation that day. He recognized what a gift life is, was left with nothing but say, wow, what a difference, thanks...Being thankful for all of life, for everything life has to offer, is a way we can experience salvation every day..day after day. What can get us down when we live a life of thankfulness? What can do us harm if we trust that our loving God is a god of mercy?
Maybe you know some people like this. People who have seen some of the worst times in life, stuff we couldn’t even imagine experiencing, and in spite of how hard life has been, and for whatever crazy reason these people can only give thanks. Thank you!
The late Rev. John Claypool preached a sermon shortly after his 10-year old daughter died a tragic death. What pain can compare with a parent losing a child? Claypool says that three options came to him as he dealt with the grief. One was to resign to fact that life is just plain difficult and unfair. He likened this approach to a leaf hanging from a tree, fluttering in the wind in the fall time. He could just accept life as it is: that bad things happen no matter how good one might be, and that there is nothing to do but just accept it that way. Maybe we just let life happen; and we fall into cynicism.
Two: The other option that came to Rev. Claypool was to intellectualize the event. To try to make sense of it in his mind, wrap his head around it: Why did my daughter die? What happened? Why did this happen to me? To play scenario after scenario in his head as to how things could be different, how things could have played out another way. But he knew he would never understand, no medical or reasoned explanation would make it better, but more than likely would eventually lead to bitterness and despair.
These two options, as tempting as they were for him, didn’t really give him much satisfaction, in fact just made him more depressed, and anxious and bitter about everything. He was hurting. But somehow, he came out of his suffering, if only for a moment, begging and pleading “Lord, Have mercy;” He realized how much he loved his daughter, how many wonderful memories he had of his daughter. How they would play together, dance and sing together, and read before she went to bed. Laugh and share life with each other.
Some of his greatest memories. He would not trade the time he had with her for anything. It was not fair that she died at such a young age. But what a gift her life was. This father who lost his daughter experienced salvation, in some strange way; by giving thanks for her life, and for his. (Tom Long, A Chorus of Witnesses, “Life Is A Gift,” sermon by John Claypool).
How precious life is. What a gift life is. The God of mercy, gives us life. Mercy made those ten lepers clean, but it was a thankful heart that made the one well. It saved him that day. Surely hard roads were ahead, after all he was a foreigner in a strange land, but a thankful heart can overcome even the most dreadful situations, because life is a gift, and so long as there is life, there is hope. “There is an old spiritual discipline of listing one’s blessings, naming them before God, and giving thanks. It’s a healthy thing to do, especially in a world where we too often assume we have an absolute right to health, happiness and every possible creature comfort” (Tom Wright, Luke for Everyone, 2004 WMJKP, pp206-207).
So that’s what I’d like us to do this morning. Take the time to find something we are thankful for: A good week last week, a win for our favorite team, a visit from a family member, the soft fur of a pet, a phone call with someone we love. Maybe it is something miraculous that has happened in our lives: Recovery from an illness, an experience of reconciliation. Maybe we are just thankful for the pastor..or if not me maybe for my wife! Maybe for the person or people sitting around you. Each and every day we can hope for something new and unexpected.
Each and every day we can wake up and give thanks that on this day, something wonderful may happen: A smile from a child; A hug and a kiss from a loved one; a wonderful storied shared over a meal; A glimpse of a beautiful sunset.
Take time to reflect on mercy and on thankfulness:
Play Song while people write down things they are thankful for: David M. Bailey, “I’m Thankful”:
“I'm thankful for the way the sun rises in the morning
I'm thankful for yellow, red and blue
I'm thankful for the quiet thoughts that visit when the moon shines
But most of all I'm thankful for you
I'm thankful that the lightning never strikes twice in the garden
I'm thankful for the silent midnight dew
I'm thankful that the tides don't forget to return
but most of all I'm thankful for you
So much to make my heart glad
So many reasons to sing
Well I'm thankful for every moment
And you, you're in everything
I'm thankful for the way my son reaches for my fingers
I'm thankful for my daughter's smile too
I'm thankful for the Time that brought us all together
but most of all I'm thankful for you”
Yes, there are so many things to be thankful for.
What does mercy mean? It means that God loves us beyond anything we can experience; and that is something to be thankful for.
that is awesome!
On the way to Jerusalem Jesus was going through the region between Samaria and Galilee. As he entered a village, ten lepers approached him. Keeping their distance, they called out, saying, "Jesus, Master, have mercy on us!"
When he saw them, he said to them, "Go and show yourselves to the priests." And as they went, they were made clean. Then one of them, when he saw that he was healed, turned back, praising God with a loud voice. He prostrated himself at Jesus' feet and thanked him. And he was a Samaritan.
Then Jesus asked, "Were not ten made clean? But the other nine, where are they? Was none of them found to return and give praise to God except this foreigner?" Then he said to him, "Get up and go on your way; your faith has made you well."
La palabra de Dios. Te escuchamos, O Dios.
Leap for Joy!!! Make a joyful noise!!! Let out a great sound of joy! Of cheer, of excitement! Woohoo! What better way to give thanks for today! What better way to give praise to God for God’s mercy in our lives. Praise to God for one more day because even this day is a gift. Life is a gift. Every day. Some days better than others, but today—this is special.
It was a good day for the lepers in this morning’s story. They got up day after day, their bodies covered in sores; skin pealing away. Deformity, shame…relegated to living on the edge of town; not accepted as part of the mainstream. But they kept living. They kept hoping for something to come their way.
Jesus Approaches!
They Shout—“Unclean! Unclean!”—as the Law requires:
They Shout: “Lord, Master, we’ll call you whatever you want us to call you, just
PLEASE have Mercy.” MERCY!
Of course, mercy.
That is what they pray for, that is what they dream of; that someone would show these pathetic people rendered powerless, unclean, blemishes to society mercy, treat them as humans. Will Jesus heed their plea? Can Jesus do anything about it…? It’s worth a try, they’re desperate.
“Have mercy!”
Mercy!” That’s what my buddy from school John Curlin would always say when he got one of his tests back and saw that he passed, barely: Mercy!
He said it when he spotted an attractive young lady: Mercy. Don’t ask me why?
Mercy. That was what my sisters and I used to shout as kids around Christmas when we would drive through the really nice neighborhoods in town on a Mercy Tour…we’d see all the bright colorful lights draped over all the trees and all over the house. Mercy. We saw the giant tree inside the house all lit up, Mercy! We would shout. Don’t ask me why?
Mercy. That’s what you cry when you play that wrestling game…[demonstrate], and when you’re on your knees and your wrists are bent all the way back till you can’t take it any more you beg for mercy. Don’t ask me why?
Mercy, that’s what we pray for when we have the prayers of the people: “Lord, in your mercy”
Mercy, that’s what we sing when we do the confession. Ten Piedad.
But what does mercy mean? Ten lepers beg: “Jesus, Master, HAVE MERCY ON US.”
And as they go on their way, just as Jesus told them to do, they are made clean. And it would appear that mercy made all the difference. Does mercy make any difference in our lives?
Let’s think about mercy for a second: Was there a time in our lives before we knew the good news? Do we remember the time before we knew we were loved and forgiven? The time before we were called to be disciples? This was the time of “pre-mercy.” In the time of “pre-mercy,” we had to reinvent ourselves every day, we faced daily pressure to achieve, accomplish and impress. Good enough to impress our boss or our coach; smart enough to impress our teachers and peers; and romantic enough to impress our significant other. “But of course it is never enough; And then, and then, the next day it has to be done all over again, until we’re simply exhausted and left in despair.” Do you remember: Once you had not received mercy. (Walter Brueggemann, Inscribing the Text: Sermons and Prayers of Walter Brueggemann, pp 80-81)
“And then the miracle! The miracle is that Jesus came into the world; gathered up the stranded people and made them into a new community. He called disciples, he called little children, he called the publicans and sinners, he called tax collectors and fishermen…all sorts of people who did not belong to each other, did not know or trust each other.” (Walter Brueggemann, Inscribing the Text: Sermons and Prayers of Walter Brueggemann, pp 80-81)
But everywhere Jesus went, things were made new.
Jesus enters a no name town somewhere between Samaria and Galilee, and before he can enter that town lepers out on the edges, where they’re supposed to be, mob him: “Have Mercy!” They Cry. And he does: Of course. This is what God incarnate was about. Mercy. He had mercy on them. They were made clean; and their lives took on new meaning. Each made new.
Newness…forgiving, healing, cleansing, feeding…this was the life of Jesus: Mercy giving life back by taking the time to share his life, invest himself in others. That’s what he did, even to the very end. It is as though the whole world addressed him: “Master, have mercy on us.”
So he gave his life as a continuing act of mercy. That’s all. That’s everything. And you know: that’s what the world in its desolate anxiety does not know. That’s what sometimes I forget!
I forget that God is not a hypothesis or a good idea, but instead God is an agent who turns what was into what will be. (Walter Brueggemann, Inscribing the Text: Sermons and Prayers of Walter Brueggemann, pp 83- 84).
Mercy me! This means so much to me. “Mercy is God’s response to us, and then through us and beyond us.”
And our response to God? Jesus suggests a simple, “Thank you.” Or maybe a loud shouting and jumping up and down, “THANK YOU!”
It never hurts to get a little sign of appreciation when you have done something for someone else; when you’ve given of yourself. It’s nice when you’ve worked all day for Spanish supper to get a thank you note. You’ve worked behind the scenes at this church, at work, in our community—and someone gives you a pat on the back. I’m sure you’re all aware that this month is pastor appreciation month; I suppose it’s my job to tell everyone that right?
But even I don’t mind someone saying, Hey Chester, Thanks! Maybe this is hereditary: something I got this from my dad. No, we all like to be appreciated; even if we haven’t really done much! A little gracias. Can that be the case with God too? This mysterious God whom we worship, often times seems so simple—God appreciates a little appreciation.
This foreigner in the story from Luke—a Samaritan—probably didn’t expect to get the same treatment as the others who were Jews. He was shown mercy, healed; and came back ecstatic, praising God and showing his thanks to Jesus. Once a sad leper, he came back a grateful leaper! [Cheesy joke for the day] shouting and praising God, “Wooohhhoooo!”
A foreigner who is the model of faith shows us what thankfulness looks like.
As a Spanish speaker doing social work, Trasie works with a number of foreigners.
They’ve come to this country for any number of reasons, and now are trying to get by in this strange new world. Many are on the edges of society, in the shadows; unsure of what to expect.
One of her clients was the family of a two-year old girl who couldn’t walk or talk. They didn’t know what to do about this precious little girl when they showed up at the center. And Trasie, simply did her job, spent hours with them by going to appointments with doctors and provided counseling for the family. Most of us in that family’s situation would have really appreciated Trasie’s work, but probably thought…well she’s just doing her job. But this family extended one of the most gracious acts of appreciation they could offer. They invited Trasie, and her tag along husband, into their humble home; where we ate a wonderful feast and stayed until 11 at night! What a nice thanks!
Thank yous are nice. It’s no surprise that Jesus, while simply doing his job—healing, showing a little mercy—was hoping for just a slight recognition, just a small sign of appreciation: and one came back. Who knows maybe the other nine who didn’t come back to him were planning an upcoming Jesus appreciation banquet. But there’s there may be a little more to this thankful heart according to the passage. Now this is the kind of stuff us bible nerds really get into…yep that’s me. A Bible nerd. My dad always hoped I’d be a nerd at something. The word derived from sozo translated “made you well,” appears when Jesus says to the appreciative foreigner at the end of the story that his faith had made him well: that word means save. In other words, Jesus seems to say your faith has saved you; well duh, but what about his faith.
His faith led him to say thank you; that is what made him well. Mercy is the big difference in the lives of all the lepers. They are all made clean; but only one comes back and praises God.
Gives thanks to the one who healed, recognized him for who he is. And somehow now, salvation, not just healing, but salvation becomes part of the picture. Salvation factors into the equation.
Now issues of salvation can be tricky in the Bible: it can be talking about eternal salvation, or is there something about experiencing salvation day after day. But I would like for us to consider for a moment, that it his thankful heart, his attitude of gratitude meant salvation that day. He recognized what a gift life is, was left with nothing but say, wow, what a difference, thanks...Being thankful for all of life, for everything life has to offer, is a way we can experience salvation every day..day after day. What can get us down when we live a life of thankfulness? What can do us harm if we trust that our loving God is a god of mercy?
Maybe you know some people like this. People who have seen some of the worst times in life, stuff we couldn’t even imagine experiencing, and in spite of how hard life has been, and for whatever crazy reason these people can only give thanks. Thank you!
The late Rev. John Claypool preached a sermon shortly after his 10-year old daughter died a tragic death. What pain can compare with a parent losing a child? Claypool says that three options came to him as he dealt with the grief. One was to resign to fact that life is just plain difficult and unfair. He likened this approach to a leaf hanging from a tree, fluttering in the wind in the fall time. He could just accept life as it is: that bad things happen no matter how good one might be, and that there is nothing to do but just accept it that way. Maybe we just let life happen; and we fall into cynicism.
Two: The other option that came to Rev. Claypool was to intellectualize the event. To try to make sense of it in his mind, wrap his head around it: Why did my daughter die? What happened? Why did this happen to me? To play scenario after scenario in his head as to how things could be different, how things could have played out another way. But he knew he would never understand, no medical or reasoned explanation would make it better, but more than likely would eventually lead to bitterness and despair.
These two options, as tempting as they were for him, didn’t really give him much satisfaction, in fact just made him more depressed, and anxious and bitter about everything. He was hurting. But somehow, he came out of his suffering, if only for a moment, begging and pleading “Lord, Have mercy;” He realized how much he loved his daughter, how many wonderful memories he had of his daughter. How they would play together, dance and sing together, and read before she went to bed. Laugh and share life with each other.
Some of his greatest memories. He would not trade the time he had with her for anything. It was not fair that she died at such a young age. But what a gift her life was. This father who lost his daughter experienced salvation, in some strange way; by giving thanks for her life, and for his. (Tom Long, A Chorus of Witnesses, “Life Is A Gift,” sermon by John Claypool).
How precious life is. What a gift life is. The God of mercy, gives us life. Mercy made those ten lepers clean, but it was a thankful heart that made the one well. It saved him that day. Surely hard roads were ahead, after all he was a foreigner in a strange land, but a thankful heart can overcome even the most dreadful situations, because life is a gift, and so long as there is life, there is hope. “There is an old spiritual discipline of listing one’s blessings, naming them before God, and giving thanks. It’s a healthy thing to do, especially in a world where we too often assume we have an absolute right to health, happiness and every possible creature comfort” (Tom Wright, Luke for Everyone, 2004 WMJKP, pp206-207).
So that’s what I’d like us to do this morning. Take the time to find something we are thankful for: A good week last week, a win for our favorite team, a visit from a family member, the soft fur of a pet, a phone call with someone we love. Maybe it is something miraculous that has happened in our lives: Recovery from an illness, an experience of reconciliation. Maybe we are just thankful for the pastor..or if not me maybe for my wife! Maybe for the person or people sitting around you. Each and every day we can hope for something new and unexpected.
Each and every day we can wake up and give thanks that on this day, something wonderful may happen: A smile from a child; A hug and a kiss from a loved one; a wonderful storied shared over a meal; A glimpse of a beautiful sunset.
Take time to reflect on mercy and on thankfulness:
Play Song while people write down things they are thankful for: David M. Bailey, “I’m Thankful”:
“I'm thankful for the way the sun rises in the morning
I'm thankful for yellow, red and blue
I'm thankful for the quiet thoughts that visit when the moon shines
But most of all I'm thankful for you
I'm thankful that the lightning never strikes twice in the garden
I'm thankful for the silent midnight dew
I'm thankful that the tides don't forget to return
but most of all I'm thankful for you
So much to make my heart glad
So many reasons to sing
Well I'm thankful for every moment
And you, you're in everything
I'm thankful for the way my son reaches for my fingers
I'm thankful for my daughter's smile too
I'm thankful for the Time that brought us all together
but most of all I'm thankful for you”
Yes, there are so many things to be thankful for.
What does mercy mean? It means that God loves us beyond anything we can experience; and that is something to be thankful for.
that is awesome!
Sunday, September 30, 2007
Ouch Abraham! That Hurts! - Luke 16:19-31
Preached at Second Presbyterian Church, Albuquerque, Sept. 30, 2007.
Luke 16:19-31:
‘There was a rich man who was dressed in purple and fine linen and who feasted sumptuously every day. 20And at his gate lay a poor man named Lazarus, covered with sores, 21who longed to satisfy his hunger with what fell from the rich man’s table; even the dogs would come and lick his sores. 22The poor man died and was carried away by the angels to be with Abraham.* The rich man also died and was buried. 23In Hades, where he was being tormented, he looked up and saw Abraham far away with Lazarus by his side.* 24He called out, “Father Abraham, have mercy on me, and send Lazarus to dip the tip of his finger in water and cool my tongue; for I am in agony in these flames.” 25But Abraham said, “Child, remember that during your lifetime you received your good things, and Lazarus in like manner evil things; but now he is comforted here, and you are in agony. 26Besides all this, between you and us a great chasm has been fixed, so that those who might want to pass from here to you cannot do so, and no one can cross from there to us.” 27He said, “Then, father, I beg you to send him to my father’s house— 28for I have five brothers—that he may warn them, so that they will not also come into this place of torment.” 29Abraham replied, “They have Moses and the prophets; they should listen to them.” 30He said, “No, father Abraham; but if someone goes to them from the dead, they will repent.” 31He said to him, “If they do not listen to Moses and the prophets, neither will they be convinced even if someone rises from the dead.” ’
La palabra de Dios. Te escuchamos, O Dios.
Lazarus was homeless.
Ed Loring, who works with homeless writes:
"Homelessness is absurd. Homelessness is unnecessary. Homelessness is hell. Homelessness is negligence, frostbitten toes, crooked and lost fingers, burning, bleary eyes with bad vision and a pair of drugstore reading glasses to mask the shame and blindness.
Homelessness is Henry. Henry grew up [on the res] and 20 years ago came to [Albuquerque] in search of work and his shot at the American Dream. Dark skinned, strong, easygoing, Henry now finds himself a resident of nowhere, while a member of the human community that names itself[ Albuquerque.] Henry lost job after job as do all unskilled workers in our economy. Henry drinks alcohol to ease his pain and grasp once more at his dream. Henry sleeps under a bridge just off the interstate. Sleep comes only in bits and pieces, so he is exhausted when he gets up at 5 a.m. and stumbles toward the local private enterprise labor pool.
“Will I get work today? Do I want work today?”
If a job is offered, most homeless at the labor pool must make a choice: to eat or not to eat. To go out on a job means the worker misses the opportunity for the meals at the food pantry. Stomachs, already groaning from digestive juices sloshing against empty stomach walls, say “Go for the Food pantry.” But a labor pool job, that last glimmer of hope – “maybe today the break will come” – is hard to turn down. Torn between another day of hunger and $25 paycheck, Henry chooses food today. So, he will not work. At 6 a.m., sitting in a metal chair not far from the greasy hand-written sign “No Sleeping Allowed,” Henry falls asleep.
At 7:30 a.m. Henry pulls his aching body out of the chair and heads to the [Storehouse] for the food line. There he meets [100] others who stand in line until the door is opened. By 8:45 he has had a cup of coffee, some food to get him by for a while, and a vitamin C tablet.
Just as Henry is ready to hit the streets, his bowels yell out. He looks for a place to go to the bathroom, but the buildings around keep their doors shut, not wanting the poor and the dirty to use their facilities. So he quickly hides himself behind the dumpster outside. Henry hopes, with his pants below his knees, that no one will see him. When he’s finished, a flicker of desire passes through the broken man’s heart: “If only I had a few sheets of toilet paper, and maybe just a piece of soap and a little water.” But he does not. Now he stinks. Now, as daylight has filled the city streets, Henry is an enemy of the professional, a discarded person, a punk, wino, and bum. He can’t even keep himself clean!
Henry wanders toward [Presbyterian Hospital]. If the guard at the entrance is nice or sleepy, he can wash off there. If the guard is absent he can sit in the [air-conditioned] waiting room until discovered. He sits and looks at his filthy feet. “Damn, how I wish my left shoe had a sole,” he thinks silently to himself, for there is no one with whom to share this most human wish.
When one is poor and carries the terrible burden of homelessness – having nothing to do but wait – time moves so slowly.
Henry, now with nothing to do except shuffle his way uptown to a nearby park. Walking hurts; hunger hurts. Once in the park he can sit down and eat the crusty sandwich given to him earlier that morning. Others wait in the park idly, people mumble to themselves about love and lost children, young men without tender fathers search in a macho, violent-prone society for a way to test and prove their manhood. Henry eats his sandwich. It’s 11:30 a.m. Henry’s day that really never began is almost half over.
He now decides to go for the big $8 job which the medical board allows twice a week: selling his blood plasma. With $8 he can get cigarettes, a half-pint, and a chicken supper. So Henry, reduced to a man who can only muster the energy and hope for survival, heads off to the blood bank. After a two-hour wait, his name is called. Slowly he arises from the floor where he has watched a Perry Mason rerun interspersed with advertisements, which promise a good life if you will only buy some useless product. Henry walks to the hospital bed and lies down. Finally, for the first time in five days, he is comfortable. A nurse stands beside him and applies the needle. His blood begins to drip out of his body, and Henry sleeps. Sleep at the blood bank is unlike sleep anywhere else for the homeless. Here, bleeding, Henry is safe. The temperature is comfortable, and the noise of the television and the voices in the waiting room are muted by the closed door. Yes, the safest and most comfortable place for a homeless person in all of Albuquerque is on the blood bank bed. It’s a pity that one can only be there four hours a week.
Henry’s day is over. His life, according to many who understand human existence as rooted in a structure of meaning and purposefulness, has been over for years. Homelessness is death. Homelessness is absurd. Homelessness is unnecessary. Homelessness is hell."1
Lazarus was homeless. He has very little in common with his neighbor, described simply as the rich man. The poor man, Lazuras, knows of that rich man, boy does he know of him, he sleeps outside that rich man’s mansion every night. He dreams of eating the crumbs from his table—something dogs do, but instead dogs lick the poor man’s sores; Lazarus dreams of maybe sleeping, just in the closest of one of the rich man’s many rooms, instead he sleeps outside his gate; he dreams of wearing maybe one of his clean bath robes; instead he has on the same rotting rags that have covered his body for years.
Lazarus probably knows the rich man’s name, even though we don’t; the rich man most likely has no idea what Lazarus’ name is; he’s given him other names--nuisance, disgusting, unclean, get lost. The rich man knows of the poor man, Lazarus is probably the thorn in his side; the poor man’s sores all over his body cause the rich man’s ulcers; the poor man is rich man’s greatest fear—so he has no other choice but to build walls; security systems. Both are the bane of the other’s existence.
One thing Lazarus and the rich man have in common: the date of death. One morning Lazarus is found frozen to death; hidden underneath the patched blanket draped over him. He’s carried off by angels to be with Father Abraham. That same morning the rich man was discovered; died in his sleep; buried underneath fine satin sheets and a silk comforter. He wakes up hot, hot like Las Cruces in the middle of summer. What the …? what’s going on? His mouth is dry, his clothes stick to his body, he looks up and sees Lazarus with Father Abraham. But this time he really sees him, sees his peaceful face, his comfort. “This isn’t fair,” the rich man calls out. "Señor Abraham, and Señora Sara, no se acuerden de mi? I’m a good Presbyterian. Went to church, tithed, helped out with the stewardship campaign.
Look at Lazarus, why he never did anything but beg and look for food in my garbage cans; what’s he doing up there? Well, at least now he’s good for something…can he bring me a glass of water? Please?!"
“Woah!” replies Señora Sarah, “things have really changed. Don’t you remember how long you enjoyed everything you wanted? You had everything while Lazarus was lucky to get into your garbage.”
"Besides,” says Señor Abraham,” “it’s a shame, but Lazarus can’t get to where you are and you can’t get here either. Someone put up a tall wall with broken glass on the top; there’s a security fence with long spikes on top—actually, it was you. You put up the fence so that Lazarus, and people like him couldn’t get to you, and now, even though you want him to come to you they can’t. No one can cross.” (Adapted From: Murphy Davis, A Work of Hospitality 1982-2002, p. 305.)
Ouch…that’s harsh Abraham.
The crazy thing about this passage, is that the thrust of it’s message depends completely on where your sitting as you hear the story.
For some, maybe your sitting with Lazarus: Think about your own suffering, suffering that has come at the hands of others, suffering that has come from artificial divisions that have led to oppression. This could be a passage of incredible comfort and hope. Why, the thought of sitting in comfort and in the bosom of the father of our Faith is occasion for great joy. For others, if we take it seriously it is a cause of slight panic. What if I’m like the rich man? what if I’m the one who excludes? Who build walls of separation? who steps over Lazarus as I make my way toward comfort Inn? What if it’s me, a person of privilege who will suffer in the end? Señor Abraham, no se acuerda de mi? I’m a good Presbyterian, even a minister.
This is not an easy passage to preach on really. Especially when I am just getting to know this congregation a little better. It’s difficult to talk about class differences, and Jesus seems to come down very hard on those who are wealthy and have privilege. It’s also difficult to talk about Heaven and Hell, and this is one of the most clear passages found in scripture depicting this kind of duality. This parable opens up a whole lot of cans of worms…and I don’t have much time to preach, but be sure to write down any questions or thoughts that you may have. I’m sure Jaime will be willing to talk about things with you later this afternoon, and of course you can corner Rob later this week or next Sunday! Rob what is all this about?
But I would like to leave you with at least one ray of light. One message of hope. I don’t think that we, as people who seek to follow after Jesus find ourselves as just the rich man or as Lazarus…but we can find ourselves in either position at various times in our lives. Some days any one of us may be the one who is on the opposite of walls of discrimination and oppression, a barrier that would cause us to suffer. And other days we may be the ones who have put up the wall of division that harms someone else; Division that would create hell on earth for some, so that we might live in comfort.
But, what Jesus wanted above all else was for the Pharisees to remember! Remember the law:
“The harvest is to be shared with the poor and the transient (Lev. 19:9-10);
“you shall open wide your hand to your brother, to the needy and to the poor, in the land” (Deut. 15:7-11).
Jesus banged the Pharisees over the head and say remember the noisy prophets who screamed:
Is not this the fast that I choose:
to loose the bonds of injustice,
to undo the thongs of the yoke,
to let the oppressed go free,
and to break every yoke?
Is it not to share your bread with the hungry,
and bring the homeless poor into your house;
when you see the naked, to cover them,
and not to hide yourself from your own kin? (Isaiah 58:6-7)
As followers of Jesus we are to remember these things! And when we remember, we are to act. Why we are following Jesus in the first place? Jesus’ ministry is about breaking down barriers, about turning walls into bridges, it’s about reconciling ourselves with one another and with any whom we may have harmed or have harmed us. It’s about living in an alternative community in which all are welcomed; none who come to the doors are left out on the street to suffer for any reason at all!
Rob woodruff and I have quickly become good friends since I moved to Santa Fe back in January of this year. It’s been great to meet someone in a similar situation as me, fairly new to ministry still, both in our early thirties, both Anglo males, both educated at small Liberal Arts Colleges, and later at Presbyterian Seminaries. We’ve both lived in Latin America. We’re both married to incredible women; And now we both serve as the “head honchos” in smaller Presbyterian Churches; churches that also have similar histories. Both churches grew out of a ministries of First Churches. Both churches have a history of Spanish: Las dos iglesias requieren que sus ministros hablen ingles y español. It’s kind of scary all we have in common. Already people have mistaken the two of us; Maybe the only way you can tell us apart is that Rob usually has a pair of sunglasses on top of his head—Does he wear them on Sunday Mornings too? I only wear mine when I’m biking. With so much in common, it’s no wonder Rob and I have quickly become good friends.
But this mornings passage is about a relationship of extreme differences; about people who don’t get along at all, who seem to have nothing in common; besides the day of their death. Both Lazarus and the rich man are children of Father Abraham. In other words. They are of the same family. And when we consider ourselves children of God, and others who are also part of God’s creation, Children, from the same family, we may begin to act differently toward those we may have otherwise excluded.
Have you noticed that much of this morning’s focus has been on the hell part of life and the life here-after? Ahh but wait, don’t we remember that there was another part of the story What about heaven? “’Do you want to see heaven?” asks Jesus. “Do you want a picture of life abundant? I invite you into the kingdom of God, the full life, the Reign of God’s power and amazing grace.’”
“Come on, I’ll show you what it looks like. I’ll draw you a picture. Again and again, Jesus, the prophets, and the psalmists show us a feast, a party, a celebration, a banquet where the blind the crippled, and the lame come from the highways and the byways; they come from the north and south, from east and west, to sit at the overflowing table of the Kingdom of God. They are the misfits and the prodigals, the foreigners and the friendless. The come, perhaps uncertain at first, but soon drawn into the joy of the celebration. They sit together, enjoying newfound sisters and brothers and the abundance of everything they need and more, which is what our Creator wants and intends for every child of God." 2
In that place, there is nothing that would separate, there is nothing that would divide. Yes this is the reality Jesus dreams of, and this is the reality that you and I can work toward as we seek to break down walls that would divide. As we open the doors of our churches, as we open the doors of our hearts. Not just to those who are so much like us in looks, ideology, socioeconomic status: boy, it’s easy to get along with Rob, But also, but even more so with those who may be so very different from us. Especially open our doors and our hearts to those who are experiencing a living hell on this earth, just as Lazarus did.
And what I would love to see, as we get to know each other better, and as you get to know Westminster better, and Westminster gets to know Rob better, is that we could encourage one another in a common mission. In a mission of reconciliation. A ministry of peace. And hope for all in both this world and the next.
1 Adapted from Ed Lorings Article, “Homelessness is Hell,” A Work of Hospitality 1982-2002, pp 50-??.
2 Murphy Davis, A Work of Hospitality 1982-2002,305.
Luke 16:19-31:
‘There was a rich man who was dressed in purple and fine linen and who feasted sumptuously every day. 20And at his gate lay a poor man named Lazarus, covered with sores, 21who longed to satisfy his hunger with what fell from the rich man’s table; even the dogs would come and lick his sores. 22The poor man died and was carried away by the angels to be with Abraham.* The rich man also died and was buried. 23In Hades, where he was being tormented, he looked up and saw Abraham far away with Lazarus by his side.* 24He called out, “Father Abraham, have mercy on me, and send Lazarus to dip the tip of his finger in water and cool my tongue; for I am in agony in these flames.” 25But Abraham said, “Child, remember that during your lifetime you received your good things, and Lazarus in like manner evil things; but now he is comforted here, and you are in agony. 26Besides all this, between you and us a great chasm has been fixed, so that those who might want to pass from here to you cannot do so, and no one can cross from there to us.” 27He said, “Then, father, I beg you to send him to my father’s house— 28for I have five brothers—that he may warn them, so that they will not also come into this place of torment.” 29Abraham replied, “They have Moses and the prophets; they should listen to them.” 30He said, “No, father Abraham; but if someone goes to them from the dead, they will repent.” 31He said to him, “If they do not listen to Moses and the prophets, neither will they be convinced even if someone rises from the dead.” ’
La palabra de Dios. Te escuchamos, O Dios.
Lazarus was homeless.
Ed Loring, who works with homeless writes:
"Homelessness is absurd. Homelessness is unnecessary. Homelessness is hell. Homelessness is negligence, frostbitten toes, crooked and lost fingers, burning, bleary eyes with bad vision and a pair of drugstore reading glasses to mask the shame and blindness.
Homelessness is Henry. Henry grew up [on the res] and 20 years ago came to [Albuquerque] in search of work and his shot at the American Dream. Dark skinned, strong, easygoing, Henry now finds himself a resident of nowhere, while a member of the human community that names itself[ Albuquerque.] Henry lost job after job as do all unskilled workers in our economy. Henry drinks alcohol to ease his pain and grasp once more at his dream. Henry sleeps under a bridge just off the interstate. Sleep comes only in bits and pieces, so he is exhausted when he gets up at 5 a.m. and stumbles toward the local private enterprise labor pool.
“Will I get work today? Do I want work today?”
If a job is offered, most homeless at the labor pool must make a choice: to eat or not to eat. To go out on a job means the worker misses the opportunity for the meals at the food pantry. Stomachs, already groaning from digestive juices sloshing against empty stomach walls, say “Go for the Food pantry.” But a labor pool job, that last glimmer of hope – “maybe today the break will come” – is hard to turn down. Torn between another day of hunger and $25 paycheck, Henry chooses food today. So, he will not work. At 6 a.m., sitting in a metal chair not far from the greasy hand-written sign “No Sleeping Allowed,” Henry falls asleep.
At 7:30 a.m. Henry pulls his aching body out of the chair and heads to the [Storehouse] for the food line. There he meets [100] others who stand in line until the door is opened. By 8:45 he has had a cup of coffee, some food to get him by for a while, and a vitamin C tablet.
Just as Henry is ready to hit the streets, his bowels yell out. He looks for a place to go to the bathroom, but the buildings around keep their doors shut, not wanting the poor and the dirty to use their facilities. So he quickly hides himself behind the dumpster outside. Henry hopes, with his pants below his knees, that no one will see him. When he’s finished, a flicker of desire passes through the broken man’s heart: “If only I had a few sheets of toilet paper, and maybe just a piece of soap and a little water.” But he does not. Now he stinks. Now, as daylight has filled the city streets, Henry is an enemy of the professional, a discarded person, a punk, wino, and bum. He can’t even keep himself clean!
Henry wanders toward [Presbyterian Hospital]. If the guard at the entrance is nice or sleepy, he can wash off there. If the guard is absent he can sit in the [air-conditioned] waiting room until discovered. He sits and looks at his filthy feet. “Damn, how I wish my left shoe had a sole,” he thinks silently to himself, for there is no one with whom to share this most human wish.
When one is poor and carries the terrible burden of homelessness – having nothing to do but wait – time moves so slowly.
Henry, now with nothing to do except shuffle his way uptown to a nearby park. Walking hurts; hunger hurts. Once in the park he can sit down and eat the crusty sandwich given to him earlier that morning. Others wait in the park idly, people mumble to themselves about love and lost children, young men without tender fathers search in a macho, violent-prone society for a way to test and prove their manhood. Henry eats his sandwich. It’s 11:30 a.m. Henry’s day that really never began is almost half over.
He now decides to go for the big $8 job which the medical board allows twice a week: selling his blood plasma. With $8 he can get cigarettes, a half-pint, and a chicken supper. So Henry, reduced to a man who can only muster the energy and hope for survival, heads off to the blood bank. After a two-hour wait, his name is called. Slowly he arises from the floor where he has watched a Perry Mason rerun interspersed with advertisements, which promise a good life if you will only buy some useless product. Henry walks to the hospital bed and lies down. Finally, for the first time in five days, he is comfortable. A nurse stands beside him and applies the needle. His blood begins to drip out of his body, and Henry sleeps. Sleep at the blood bank is unlike sleep anywhere else for the homeless. Here, bleeding, Henry is safe. The temperature is comfortable, and the noise of the television and the voices in the waiting room are muted by the closed door. Yes, the safest and most comfortable place for a homeless person in all of Albuquerque is on the blood bank bed. It’s a pity that one can only be there four hours a week.
Henry’s day is over. His life, according to many who understand human existence as rooted in a structure of meaning and purposefulness, has been over for years. Homelessness is death. Homelessness is absurd. Homelessness is unnecessary. Homelessness is hell."1
Lazarus was homeless. He has very little in common with his neighbor, described simply as the rich man. The poor man, Lazuras, knows of that rich man, boy does he know of him, he sleeps outside that rich man’s mansion every night. He dreams of eating the crumbs from his table—something dogs do, but instead dogs lick the poor man’s sores; Lazarus dreams of maybe sleeping, just in the closest of one of the rich man’s many rooms, instead he sleeps outside his gate; he dreams of wearing maybe one of his clean bath robes; instead he has on the same rotting rags that have covered his body for years.
Lazarus probably knows the rich man’s name, even though we don’t; the rich man most likely has no idea what Lazarus’ name is; he’s given him other names--nuisance, disgusting, unclean, get lost. The rich man knows of the poor man, Lazarus is probably the thorn in his side; the poor man’s sores all over his body cause the rich man’s ulcers; the poor man is rich man’s greatest fear—so he has no other choice but to build walls; security systems. Both are the bane of the other’s existence.
One thing Lazarus and the rich man have in common: the date of death. One morning Lazarus is found frozen to death; hidden underneath the patched blanket draped over him. He’s carried off by angels to be with Father Abraham. That same morning the rich man was discovered; died in his sleep; buried underneath fine satin sheets and a silk comforter. He wakes up hot, hot like Las Cruces in the middle of summer. What the …? what’s going on? His mouth is dry, his clothes stick to his body, he looks up and sees Lazarus with Father Abraham. But this time he really sees him, sees his peaceful face, his comfort. “This isn’t fair,” the rich man calls out. "Señor Abraham, and Señora Sara, no se acuerden de mi? I’m a good Presbyterian. Went to church, tithed, helped out with the stewardship campaign.
Look at Lazarus, why he never did anything but beg and look for food in my garbage cans; what’s he doing up there? Well, at least now he’s good for something…can he bring me a glass of water? Please?!"
“Woah!” replies Señora Sarah, “things have really changed. Don’t you remember how long you enjoyed everything you wanted? You had everything while Lazarus was lucky to get into your garbage.”
"Besides,” says Señor Abraham,” “it’s a shame, but Lazarus can’t get to where you are and you can’t get here either. Someone put up a tall wall with broken glass on the top; there’s a security fence with long spikes on top—actually, it was you. You put up the fence so that Lazarus, and people like him couldn’t get to you, and now, even though you want him to come to you they can’t. No one can cross.” (Adapted From: Murphy Davis, A Work of Hospitality 1982-2002, p. 305.)
Ouch…that’s harsh Abraham.
The crazy thing about this passage, is that the thrust of it’s message depends completely on where your sitting as you hear the story.
For some, maybe your sitting with Lazarus: Think about your own suffering, suffering that has come at the hands of others, suffering that has come from artificial divisions that have led to oppression. This could be a passage of incredible comfort and hope. Why, the thought of sitting in comfort and in the bosom of the father of our Faith is occasion for great joy. For others, if we take it seriously it is a cause of slight panic. What if I’m like the rich man? what if I’m the one who excludes? Who build walls of separation? who steps over Lazarus as I make my way toward comfort Inn? What if it’s me, a person of privilege who will suffer in the end? Señor Abraham, no se acuerda de mi? I’m a good Presbyterian, even a minister.
This is not an easy passage to preach on really. Especially when I am just getting to know this congregation a little better. It’s difficult to talk about class differences, and Jesus seems to come down very hard on those who are wealthy and have privilege. It’s also difficult to talk about Heaven and Hell, and this is one of the most clear passages found in scripture depicting this kind of duality. This parable opens up a whole lot of cans of worms…and I don’t have much time to preach, but be sure to write down any questions or thoughts that you may have. I’m sure Jaime will be willing to talk about things with you later this afternoon, and of course you can corner Rob later this week or next Sunday! Rob what is all this about?
But I would like to leave you with at least one ray of light. One message of hope. I don’t think that we, as people who seek to follow after Jesus find ourselves as just the rich man or as Lazarus…but we can find ourselves in either position at various times in our lives. Some days any one of us may be the one who is on the opposite of walls of discrimination and oppression, a barrier that would cause us to suffer. And other days we may be the ones who have put up the wall of division that harms someone else; Division that would create hell on earth for some, so that we might live in comfort.
But, what Jesus wanted above all else was for the Pharisees to remember! Remember the law:
“The harvest is to be shared with the poor and the transient (Lev. 19:9-10);
“you shall open wide your hand to your brother, to the needy and to the poor, in the land” (Deut. 15:7-11).
Jesus banged the Pharisees over the head and say remember the noisy prophets who screamed:
Is not this the fast that I choose:
to loose the bonds of injustice,
to undo the thongs of the yoke,
to let the oppressed go free,
and to break every yoke?
Is it not to share your bread with the hungry,
and bring the homeless poor into your house;
when you see the naked, to cover them,
and not to hide yourself from your own kin? (Isaiah 58:6-7)
As followers of Jesus we are to remember these things! And when we remember, we are to act. Why we are following Jesus in the first place? Jesus’ ministry is about breaking down barriers, about turning walls into bridges, it’s about reconciling ourselves with one another and with any whom we may have harmed or have harmed us. It’s about living in an alternative community in which all are welcomed; none who come to the doors are left out on the street to suffer for any reason at all!
Rob woodruff and I have quickly become good friends since I moved to Santa Fe back in January of this year. It’s been great to meet someone in a similar situation as me, fairly new to ministry still, both in our early thirties, both Anglo males, both educated at small Liberal Arts Colleges, and later at Presbyterian Seminaries. We’ve both lived in Latin America. We’re both married to incredible women; And now we both serve as the “head honchos” in smaller Presbyterian Churches; churches that also have similar histories. Both churches grew out of a ministries of First Churches. Both churches have a history of Spanish: Las dos iglesias requieren que sus ministros hablen ingles y español. It’s kind of scary all we have in common. Already people have mistaken the two of us; Maybe the only way you can tell us apart is that Rob usually has a pair of sunglasses on top of his head—Does he wear them on Sunday Mornings too? I only wear mine when I’m biking. With so much in common, it’s no wonder Rob and I have quickly become good friends.
But this mornings passage is about a relationship of extreme differences; about people who don’t get along at all, who seem to have nothing in common; besides the day of their death. Both Lazarus and the rich man are children of Father Abraham. In other words. They are of the same family. And when we consider ourselves children of God, and others who are also part of God’s creation, Children, from the same family, we may begin to act differently toward those we may have otherwise excluded.
Have you noticed that much of this morning’s focus has been on the hell part of life and the life here-after? Ahh but wait, don’t we remember that there was another part of the story What about heaven? “’Do you want to see heaven?” asks Jesus. “Do you want a picture of life abundant? I invite you into the kingdom of God, the full life, the Reign of God’s power and amazing grace.’”
“Come on, I’ll show you what it looks like. I’ll draw you a picture. Again and again, Jesus, the prophets, and the psalmists show us a feast, a party, a celebration, a banquet where the blind the crippled, and the lame come from the highways and the byways; they come from the north and south, from east and west, to sit at the overflowing table of the Kingdom of God. They are the misfits and the prodigals, the foreigners and the friendless. The come, perhaps uncertain at first, but soon drawn into the joy of the celebration. They sit together, enjoying newfound sisters and brothers and the abundance of everything they need and more, which is what our Creator wants and intends for every child of God." 2
In that place, there is nothing that would separate, there is nothing that would divide. Yes this is the reality Jesus dreams of, and this is the reality that you and I can work toward as we seek to break down walls that would divide. As we open the doors of our churches, as we open the doors of our hearts. Not just to those who are so much like us in looks, ideology, socioeconomic status: boy, it’s easy to get along with Rob, But also, but even more so with those who may be so very different from us. Especially open our doors and our hearts to those who are experiencing a living hell on this earth, just as Lazarus did.
And what I would love to see, as we get to know each other better, and as you get to know Westminster better, and Westminster gets to know Rob better, is that we could encourage one another in a common mission. In a mission of reconciliation. A ministry of peace. And hope for all in both this world and the next.
1 Adapted from Ed Lorings Article, “Homelessness is Hell,” A Work of Hospitality 1982-2002, pp 50-??.
2 Murphy Davis, A Work of Hospitality 1982-2002,305.
Saturday, September 29, 2007
Urgent: Make Friends! Use extreme measures When Necessary. Luke 16:1-9
Preached at Joint Presbytery Meeting, Sierra Blanca and Santa Fe in Las Cruces. Sept 29, 2007
Then Jesus said to the disciples, ‘There was a rich man who had a manager, and charges were brought to him that this man was squandering his property. 2So he summoned him and said to him, “What is this that I hear about you? Give me an account of your management, because you cannot be my manager any longer.” 3Then the manager said to himself, “What will I do, now that my master is taking the position away from me? I am not strong enough to dig, and I am ashamed to beg. 4I have decided what to do so that, when I am dismissed as manager, people may welcome me into their homes.” 5So, summoning his master’s debtors one by one, he asked the first, “How much do you owe my master?” 6He answered, “A hundred jugs of olive oil.” He said to him, “Take your bill, sit down quickly, and make it fifty.” 7Then he asked another, “And how much do you owe?” He replied, “A hundred containers of wheat.” He said to him, “Take your bill and make it eighty.” 8And his master commended the dishonest manager because he had acted shrewdly; for the children of this age are more shrewd in dealing with their own generation than are the children of light. 9And I tell you, make friends for yourselves by means of dishonest wealth* so that when it is gone, they may welcome you into the eternal homes.
La Palabra de Dios. Te Escuchamos, O Dios.
So Marty Bruner called me long before I knew anything really about anything and asked if I’d be willing to preach for this presbytery meeting. “Sure,” I said. Wait when is it? During this time, I’m thinking what an honor, why am I being asked to preach at Presbytery already? Well, here’s my chance. My chance to just let it all out…let everyone know exactly what I think about how things are going…the state of affairs in the church and in the world. Any text to choose from…any message I feel I must share.
It wasn’t until later that I found out that:
One, it’s fairly common practice to ask newer minister members of presbytery to preach at presbytery meetings.
Two, coming down to Cruces could be a lot of fun, even crossing over into Juarez, unless you have to get a sermon ready, preach.
And three, the preaching came at 8:30 in the morning. That’s really early, for me at least.
But it’s all good. My first year has kind of been like a hazing process, doing all kinds of things that I don’t necessarily want to do; but that others think would be good for me to do...or not so good. My stomach was on fire my first few weeks in Santa Fe because everyone wanted to take us to their favorite place for New Mexican Food. It’s all good; I’ve learned that in these early days of ministry I have to stay on my toes. I have to figure out what’s going on. So part of figuring stuff out is reusing sermons. This passage from Luke was the lectionary passage from last Sunday. Raise your hand if you preached or heard a sermon preached on Luke 16 last Sunday? How did it go?
But why this text for presbytery? A parable about a corrupt manager who loses his job; and then in desperation uses dishonest tactics to save his neck, and is subsequently commended for his behavior? Given all that is going on within our church; why not a sermon about loving each other; one about unity; maybe even a sermon about marriage given the steps that are being taken between the presbytery of Santa Fe and Sierra Blanca. But I was inspired to preach this text, especially after the interpretation of it by homiletics professor Tom Long who preached at our baccalaureate service from Columbia Seminary (two preachers from CTS preached at this presbytery meeting). He was preaching to inspire leaders in the church and this was the parable he thought appropriate. He pointed out the reality that the seminary had been graduating ministers for centuries; that the Presbyterian church has been in existence for centuries, and that really when we consider our task to work and serve in any church, be it as an elder or a minister, that in reality, time is short. I was ordained in February of this year, in the blink of an eye I will be among those retiring, or listed in the necrology report. The Psalmist reminds us: “They flourish like a flower in the field , [and then]….the wind passes over it and it is gone.” Our lives are finite; we are not God; at some point things will end even for the newest commissioner, even for the most recently ordained; a reality that hopefully doesn’t lead to despair, but instead to urgency. We have a limited time, so what are we going to do?
This parable of the “Unjust or Crooked Manager” gets right at this. It’s a scenario we hear time and time again—corporate scandal—Enron, the New England Patriots. In our story, the wealthy CEO hears of his dishonest negligent manager’s behavior; so he calls the guy in: “What have you been doing, sleeping on the job all day? You didn’t think I would see how you’ve been mishandling my business: “You’re fired!” These words pierce our very souls, cause nightmares or insomnia, and can lead to crisis. What was the guy to do? He’s been in upper management for most of his career; he can’t do any physical labor, his back would probably give out and get blisters on his hands; and there’s no way he’s going to beg. So he gets in survival mode; think fast; he’s got a plan. What clients have outstanding debts? He calls them into his office one by one before it is taken apart: “Hello good and loyal customer how much do you owe?” Why, for being such a loyal customer, I’ll do you a favor, cut your debt in half; I’m in that kind of mood. Have a good day, Next. Oh hello…you…how much you got left to pay? You and me, we’re good friends right? Let’s turn that 100 into eighty, Ey, good buddy. Next!
You get the idea right.
This guy, whose already been negligent and dishonest, continues in his dishonest ways to save his own neck; he knows the rules of the game, he knows that if he scratches their backs now, they will surely scratch his back later. Didn’t Jesus disapprove of this kind behavior when he got after the Pharisee for inviting the wrong people to his party? So what does Jesus think about this kind of behavior now? Surely he’s going to tie it all together by saying how wrong it is to lie, cheat, and steal followed by: “Then the Lord rained on the crooked manager sulfur and fire out of heaven.”1 But no, the dishonest manager is commended! Give ‘em a high five!
The text isn’t clear if it is the CEO or Jesus who commends him. It says: “His master commended the dishonest manager because he had acted shrewdly.” It doesn’t make sense for the CEO master to commend this guy for stealing from him. But, it doesn’t make much more sense that Jesus is commending this kind of behavior, does it? But Jesus’ words that follow provide some insight into this perplexing puzzle. “I wish the children of the light, the people of God, those who would follow after Jesus, were as shrewd for the gospel as the money, power driven wheeler-dealers of the world are shrewd for themselves.”2 You see; there are people in every generation who spend every minute of every day trying to figure out how to get ahead, how to earn a buck; do whatever it takes to get to the top.
My college roommate was unbelievably motivated to get good grades. While I was off hanging out with friends he was studying. While I was sleeping he was studying. During finals week, he drank a cup of coffee every hour and averaged 2 hours of sleep for four days straight. I remember him sleeping out in the hall of our dorm with a note on his sleeping bag that said, If you walk by me at 5 o’clock in the morning and I’m not awake, please wake me up. He was crazy…but he got good grades.
How many wake up early morning to follow the stock market and do some day trading—MSNBC with streaming tickers on 24/7? Wake up and try on a dozen different outfits: which will be the right one? Wake up in the morning scheming how the Rockies can get into the playoffs? But that is the behavior Jesus is commending. The idea of it, at least.
Jesus says, “I wish the people of God would have that kind of determination, that kind of focus and energy, enthusiasm and shrewdness for being the community of beloved disciples participating in God’s mission in the world.” Is this what that ordination question is about? We all made the same promise when we took our ordination vows. Just a few months ago I stood on the floor of the church that raised me and nurtured me and pledged:
I will seek to serve the people with energy, intelligence, imagination, and love.
What would happen to our churches, to the national church, to the world if we were about doing God’s mission with the kind of passion and energy that the crooked manager had when his life was on the line. Urgency, Shrewdness. A matter of survival. People would probably think we were a bunch of Jesus freaks. But let’s not complicate the mission. Why freak people out? It’s not necessarily about talking the right kind of good Christian talk, or being seen in the right kind of places, Shrewdness for being the community of beloved disciples; eyes open and a heart to serve. Prayer, and genuine concern and love for others. Knowing when it’s time to row, when to raise the sails, and what to do when the boat is sinking.
A young woman shared with her congregation about her experience of God…a testimony of sorts. She talked about how she had grown up and been baptized in that church; she pointed at the baptismal font, “There, I was baptized there. “I don’t remember it; I was a baby, but my father loved to tell me about the day I was baptized, what I was wearing, how I reacted to the water, the people there that day, friends and relatives; and he would always end the story by exclaiming, “Oh honey, the Holy Spirit was in the church that day!” “I remember as a child, being restless in worship,” she continued. “I would wonder, ‘Where is the Holy Spirit in this church?’” She pointed to different places in the sanctuary, “Is the Holy Spirit in the rafters? In the organ pipes? In the stained glass windows?” Her voice softened, “As many of you know, I lost both my parents in the same week last winter. In the midst of that terrible week, I was driving home from the hospital, having visited my parents, knowing that I might never see them alive again, and I stopped by the church, just to think and to pray. “Sarah Lopez was in the church kitchen, getting ready for a supper, and she saw me sitting all by myself in one of the back pews. She knew what was happening in my life, knew about my parents, and she took off her apron and came and sat beside me, holding my hand and praying with me. It was then that I knew where the Holy Spirit was in this church.” Sarah Lopez could have left her apron on and gone about her important work; people were counting on her for the supper; people would have continued to think highly of her, a faithful and obedient churchwoman. But she was shrewd, her eyes and heart were open, and she had good enough sense to act with urgency;
“the grieving young woman sobbing in the sanctuary” was much more in need of loving care than was the kitchen.3
Jesus said: “I wish the children of light were as shrewd as the children of this age.” Words of great challenge; followed by words that are really confusing: “Followers, make friends for yourselves by means of dishonest wealth so that when it is gone, they may welcome you into the eternal homes.”4 Say what? Dishonest wealth to make friends. Now some of us are better at making friends than others; all of us could probably use a little something extra—a little more than just our charming personalities and brilliant smiles- to make friends with people; for people to like us. But dishonest wealth? For crying out loud, we’re good Christians after all.
This is clearly about money; Jesus is very concerned about economics. But what does Dishonest Wealth mean? Perhaps a more helpful translation could be “the money of this unrighteous age.” “In other words, it is not money that is corrupt, it’s the culture that is corrupt. And Jesus is not talking about dishonest money versus good money. He is talking about all money, every last penny of the currency of our culture. Jesus wants us to take all of the money we have,” and all the things we can do with our money and “make friends for ourselves with it.”5
“Here then is the heart of the matter. The world will eagerly tell you how to use your money shrewdly. If you have money,” we’re told to invest it, buy real estate, “put it to work in the marketplace. It takes money to make money, …so take a little pile of dough and make it rise.
And that is very shrewd advice, indeed, unless, unless, unless this world, with all of its glittering empires, is passing away. What if the truth, hidden from the savvy investors of Wall Street, prudent real estate advisors, is that this world and all of its glory is dying right before our very eyes, and a new world, God’s very own world, is being born? Then a new wisdom would come about. The shrewd among us would invest what we have not in this world but in the world to come.“6
Isn’t this what Jesus is telling his followers? “Make friends for yourselves by means of the wealth of this world that is passing away, invest in the world that is to come, invest in what will truly endure.”7 What if we imagined the wealth of this world like monopoly? When you start the game you’re given a certain amount of cash, and you’re supposed to invest it, buy property, and try to stay out of jail. You may end up with a lot of cash, and a lot of property, but in the end, the game ends, the money is useless. This is what the currency of this world is like in light of what Jesus is saying, right? It’s like having monopoly money, you can buy park place and boardwalk, but in the end it doesn’t mean anything. And “when we think about this parable in relationship to the church and its ministry, it becomes clear that this is about more than simply cash—not just about money, its about everything!”8
Use the stuff that is available, the resources, however much or little we have in our individual churches, in our respective presbyteries, in our denomination to make friends with this world;
make friends with as much energy, imagination, creativity and shrewdness as the dishonest manager. What do we have as individuals who seek to follow Jesus? Jobs that don’t pay what we might like? Not enough time in the day? What do our respective presbyteries have as we seek to love God and others? Under funded camps, declining memberships, churches that have to be closed? Some might say, we don’t have much, what can we do? But, WWSMD? What would the shrewd manager do? Wouldn’t the shrewd manager see the current state of affairs in our churches and be scheming, conniving, dreaming different ways to make friends with the world. For the shrewd manager making friends was a matter of survival. How do we use the stuff? Do we help folks out with gas money or food? Do we try to give employment whenever possible? Do we host AA groups or community events in our buildings? How do we use the stuff to make friends with this world? Do we consider different styles of worship? Do we use technology—websites for our churches, podcasting, blogs or Social networking sites like facebook to preach good news? Do we use our imagination, creativity and energy and love?
Our eyes and ears must be open, our hearts and minds ready; the holy spirit may use us by whatever means necessary to make friends. And Jesus has already told us earlier in Luke 14 what kind of friends we’re to make. The poor, the outcast, the marginalized, the lonely,
those who are suffering, those who need healing, those who need radical love in their lives;
those who may never be able to repay the favor given to them; this includes people in here and people out there.
Why? Jesus seems to be suggesting that this is part of a the job description, and we’re to be diligent, determined, shrewd, didn’t you read that in the fine print?
Why? Jesus seems to be suggesting, in typical table turning fashion, that it will be those friends that we are to make, who might not be able to return any “favors” we offer, who will be standing on the inside, opening the doors of welcome in the eternal homes.
I heard Tony Campolo, professor of Sociology at Eastern University in Pennsylvania, tell a story an experience he had during a conference in Hawaii years ago. (some have heard it?) He checks into his hotel and tries to get some sleep. Unfortunately, his internal clock wakes him at 3:00 a.m. The night is dark, the streets are silent, the world is asleep, but Tony is wide awake and his stomach is growling. He gets up and prowls the streets looking for a place to get some bacon and eggs for an early breakfast. Everything is closed except for a grungy dive in an alley.
He goes in and sits down at the counter. The greasy guy behind the counter comes over and asks, "What d'ya want?" Well, Tony isn't so hungry anymore so eying some donuts under a plastic cover he says, "I'll have a donut and coffee." As he sits there munching on his donut and sipping his coffee at 3:30, in walk eight or nine provocative, loud prostitutes just finished with their night's work. They plop down at the counter and Tony finds himself uncomfortably surrounded by this group of smoking, swearing hookers. He gulps his coffee, planning to make a quick getaway.
Then the woman next to him says to her friend, "You know what? Tomorrow's my birthday. I'm gonna be 39."
To which her friend nastily replies, "So what d'ya want from me? A birthday party? Huh? You want me to get a cake, and sing happy birthday to you?"
The first woman says, "Aw, come on, why do you have to be so mean? Why do you have to put me down? I'm just sayin' it's my birthday. I don't want anything from you. I mean, why should I have a birthday party? I've never had a birthday party in my whole life. Why should I have one now?"
Tony sat and waited until the women left, and then he asked the guy at the counter, "Do they come in here every night?"
"Yeah," he answered.
"The one right next to me," he asked, "she comes in every night?"
"Yeah," he said, "that's Agnes. Yeah, she's here every night. She's been comin' here for years. Why do you want to know?"
"Because she just said that tomorrow is her birthday. What do you think? Do you think we could maybe throw a little birthday party for her right here in the diner?"
A smile crept over the greasy man's chubby cheeks. "That's great," he says, "yeah, that's great. I like it." He turns to the kitchen and shouts to his wife, "Hey, come on out here. This guy's got a great idea. Tomorrow is Agnes' birthday and he wants to throw a party for her right here."
His wife comes out. "That's terrific," she says. "You know, Agnes is really nice. She's always trying to help other people and nobody does anything nice for her."
So they make their plans. Tony says he'll be back at 2:30 the next morning with some decorations and the man, whose name turns out to be Harry, says he'll make a cake.
At 2:30 the next morning, Tony is back. He has crepe paper and other decorations and a sign made of big pieces of cardboard that says, "Happy Birthday, Agnes!" They decorate the place from one end to the other and get it looking great. Harry had gotten the word out on the streets about the party and by 3:15 it seemed that every prostitute in Honolulu was in the place. There were hookers wall to wall.
At 3:30 on the dot, the door swings open and in walks Agnes and her friend. Tony has everybody ready. They all shout and scream "Happy Birthday, Agnes!"
Agnes is absolutely flabbergasted. She's stunned, her mouth falls open, and she almost falls over. And when she sees the birthday cake with all the candles she totally loses it: sobbing and crying.
Harry gruffly mumbles, "Blow out the candles, Agnes. Cut the cake."
So she pulls herself together and blows them out.
Everyone cheers and yells, "Cut the cake, Agnes, cut the cake!"
But Agnes looks down at the cake and, without taking her eyes off it, slowly and softly says, "Look, Harry, is it all right with you if...I mean, if I don't...I mean, what I want to ask, is it OK if I keep the cake a little while? Is it all right if we don't eat it right away?"
Harry doesn't know what to say so he shrugs and says, "Sure, if that's what you want to do. Keep the cake. Take it home if you want."
"Oh, could I?" she asks. Looking at Tony she says, "I live just down the street a couple of doors; I want to take the cake home, is that okay? I'll be right back, honest."
She gets off her stool, picks up the cake, and carries it high in front of her like it was the Holy Grail.
Everybody watches in stunned silence and when the door closes behind her, nobody seems to know what to do. They look at Tony. So Tony gets up on a chair and says, "What do you say that we pray together?" And there they are in a hole-in-the-wall greasy diner, half the prostitutes in Honolulu, at 3:30 a.m. listening to Tony Campolo as he prays for Agnes, that her life would be changed, and that God would be good to her.
When he's finished, Harry leans over, and with a trace of hostility in his voice, he says, "Hey, you never told me you were religious. What kind of church do you belong to anyway?"
In one of those moments when just the right words came, Tony answers him somberly: "I belong to a church that throws birthday parties for prostitutes at 3:30 in the morning."
tarry He thinks for a moment, and in a mocking way says, "No you don't. There ain't no church like that. If there was, I'd join it. Yep, I'd join a church like that."9
What kind of church do we want to be? Are we willing to be shrewd, to use the stuff of this world, whatever we’ve got, to make friends. This is what really matters. Will we seek to serve the people with energy, intelligence, imagination, and love? Our lives are so brief... “they flourish like a flower of the field…the wind passes over it and it is gone.” in the blink of an eye, I will be retiring or found in the necrology report. But don’t despair, instead act with diligence, shrewdness, urgency. It may be a matter of survival. Make Friends for Christ: “In the end, only that will endure.”10
1 Leviticus
2 Adapted from T. Long’s paraphrase of this verse.
3 Adapted from T. Longs “Making Friends,” Journal for Preachers, 52-57.
4 T. Long, “Making Friends,” Journal for Preachers, p 54
5 T. Long “Making Friends,” Journal for Preachers, p 54.
6 T. Long “Making Friends,” Journal for Preachers, p 55
7 T. Long “Making Friends,” Journal for Preachers, p 55
8 T. Long “Making Friends,” Journal for Preachers, p 55.
9 Adapted from the way I remember it being told and the retelling of the story on: http://www.swapmeetdave.com/Bible/Agnes.htm
10 T. Long “Making Friends,” Journal for Preachers, p 57.
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