Forgive

This is the third sermon in a series I am preaching on the Lord’s Prayer. And the first one that had enough of me in it to publish. I needed a way out of a preaching rut and finally got to the place where I could preach again:

Sermon Text: Luke 11:1-10, Mark 1:21-28

Recently, I came across an article about a church in Seattle that is trying to reclaim a more “masculine” Jesus. Their pastor, Mark Driscoll, argues that Jesus and the church have been feminized – that Jesus is seen as weak and soft – the type of guy who would hang out with cuddly sheep and babies, rather than the sort of man’s man who turned over the tables in the temple.

My first thought as I read that article was, why can’t Jesus be both? I have always thought that Jesus embodied the fullness of both men and women, male and female – the best of both worlds if you will. But I also got to thinking about the church and how good of a job it does in truly representing that Body of Christ in the world today.

I did some research. On any given Sunday, the church will be made up of about 40% men and 60% women. Each week, 25% of married churchgoing women come to church without their husbands. I count myself among that group. So do quite a few of you. So part of me wants to hear what Rev. Driscoll has to say – I want to know what exactly he thinks the church is missing.
In an interview he gave, he said something to the effect that the church is full of chicks and pastel colors and songs full of emotion and feelings… and that guys would rather be out hunting, or working on their trucks, or watching football. Pretty apropos for Super Bowl Sunday, I thought.

But perhaps the problem is a bit deeper than that. As I was working on this sermon, the movie “A Knight’s Tale” was on in the background and I caught a bit of dialogue that was like a light bulb coming on.

Count Adamar in the film is strong and powerful and his rival becomes a young peasant boy who is mascarading as a knight to compete in a jousting tournament. When the Count sees young Will show mercy to a competitor, the Count is disgusted. “he shows weakness,” The count exclaims. “That’s all mercy is.” Lightbulb!

Could it be that some men stay home not because of pastel carpet or children’s sermons or pretty music, but because churches are full of mercy and forgiveness?

Strength and power in our world are defined by justice and retribution. To forgive someone, to show them mercy, to let them off without punishment is weakness. And yet that is exactly what we talk about in the church. In fact, today, we celebrate the two sacraments of our tradition that revolve around forgiveness and new beginnings – baptism and communion.

We live in a dog eat dog world of war, prisons, and defense policies that involve getting the other guy before they can get us. Power is defined by how big our guns are, how much money we have, and who we have pushed out of the way to get to where we are. Not acts of forgiveness with simple things like water and bread.

The problem here is not that the church is weak and the world is strong. That violence is power and mercy is weakness. The problem is that we haven’t done a good enough job of really proclaiming the power of God.

That power shows up in our reading from Mark this morning… only a little bit in disguise. We read this passage and hear something about Jesus teaching others with authority only to have a possessed man interrupt. Jesus casts out the spirit, so we think this must be about healing.

But the word that we translate into authority can also simply mean power. Jesus’ very teaching is powerful. It is what he has to say that first amazes the crowds. His very speaking demonstrates that the power of God is present.

And only then does the unclean spirit show up.

Ofelia Ortega writes that “the forces of evil know of the healing power of Jesus’ word; they are not submissive or indifferent. Jesus’ powerful teaching not only is fresh to the ears of the faithful, but it also disrupts the undisturbed presence of evil. Evil discovers that it is running its course.” (Feasting on the Word, Year B, Volume 1, page 312)

All Jesus had to do was speak, and the evil powers of the world started shaking in their boots.

“Be silent.” Jesus commanded. “Come out.” He said firmly. And the spirit obeyed.

I don’t know what to tell all of you about demons and spirits. I have never personally experienced them, although I know people who have. What I can tell you is that I firmly believe that God has power over the evil in this world.. As Gary Charles puts it, “from the onset of his Gospel, Mark signals that no oppressive boundary will stand or withstand the [power] of Jesus…. No one (except the demons) understand that the boundary between heaven and earth has been pierced and the reign of God is “at hand” (Feasting on the Word, Year B, Volume 1, page 313)

The reign of God… the Kingdom of God is at hand. When we pray the Lord’s Prayer and we get to that part about “Thy Kingdom come, Thy will be done on earth”… we are talking about God’s power to live within us. We are praying for God to help us tap into that amazing power that the people witnessed within the synagogue. We are praying not only to be cleansed of our own internal demons – but we are also praying for the power to love others who have been their own internal demons.

You heard one story of the power of forgiveness this morning – of the mother who found the power to reach out to the mother of the boy who killed her son. She admitted that it was God who gave her the strength to do so.

I want to tell you another story today. A story about a church here in Iowa that took seriously Jesus prayer and the command to forgive. This story is related in the book “Becoming Jesus’ Prayer.”

Nine years ago, Farmers Chapel, a United Methodist congregation, “was burned to the ground by an arsonist. In the weeks and months that followed, the congregation had to wrestle with how to forgive the person who destroyed their 107-year-old church…. [their pastor] wrote an open letter to the unknown arsonist and had it printed in the local newspaper…” (Becoming Jesus’ Prayer, page 37-38)

Part of the letter is as follows:

“Our worship time is 9:00AM every Sunday. I tell you this because I want you to know that you are invited. In fact, we even plan to reserve a seat just for you. Our faith has a lot to say about forgiveness. Every Sunday we ask God to forgive our sins but only as we have forgiven those who have sinned against us. That would be you. So if you would join us for worship, we could practice this kind of forgiveness face to face. I say “practice” for a reason. I don’t expect us to get it right the first or even the second time. Of course we’ll continue to work to forgive you even if you decline our invitation to worship. Forgiveness is the cornerstone of the faith we have inherited. Some people think it is impossible. They may be right. I only know that we have to try. Our forgiveness of you is tied to God’s forgiveness of us. We can’t receive something we are not willing to give others. So you see, if we harbor hatred for you in our hearts, we harbor the smoldering ashes of your arson. If we cling to bitterness, we fan the embers of your violent act. If we fantasize about revenge, we rekindle a destructive flame that will consume us. Forgiveness may indeed be impossible, but for us it is not optional.” (as printed in Becoming Jesus’ Prayer)

That 107-year-old church that burned to the ground has been rebuilt and at the focal point of their worship space is a cross that has been built out of the charred timbers of their old building. Every single time that Body of Christ comes together, they are a living witness that “life comes out of death, that hope emerges from desolation.” (Becoming Jesus’ Prayer, page 39) There is no weakness there – only power.

Today as we gather around the waters of baptism, we become witnesses to the love of God that claims us before we even know how speak. And we are renewed by the Spirit of God, that flows among us and helps us to resist evil and injustice and oppression in the world. That is not weakness – that is power.

And every Sunday that we come together for a meal of simple bread and juice, we are witnesses that all are welcome at the table of our Lord. We partake of that meal not out of simple ritual, but because there is real transformative power. The bread and the cup transforms us into the body of Christ poured out for the redemption of the world. The redemption of the world is not the stuff of sissys or pansys or the weak – it is for the bold, those who are willing to take the risk of stepping out of our comfort zones and truly carrying grace and forgiveness outside of these walls and onto the streets of our town.

When we pray Jesus’ prayer – when we truly pray it – we are asking… no we are begging for our lives to be changed. We are asking for this church to be transformed and for it to be a place of transformation.

Instead of being a church of pastel carpet, pretty music, and potlucks… the call to forgiveness challenges us to be a church where unwed mothers and drug addicts and yes, even guys who would rather watch football than listen to a sermon, find grace. Find forgiveness. Find God.

When we become that kind of church – then we will be able to stand up to the powers of this world and say to them that their way does not work. We will speak loudly and boldly that mercy does have power, that forgiveness is God’s way. That the Reign of God is at hand and that they too are invited to belong.

Amen and Amen.