King – Salvaged Faith

A Feast of Terror and Abundance

Posted on November 8, 2020Leave a comment

Text: Matthew 22:1-14; Isaiah 25:1-10

So, all month long in our daily devotions we are focusing on where the Kingdom of Heaven shows up in the gospel of Matthew.
What we discover is an awful lot about how we should live right here and right now.
The Sermon on the Mount is filled with ethical instruction about how we treat one another in the Kingdom… which is often the opposite of what the world expects.
We’re called to put all of this teaching into practice in our lives and get out there and start sharing the Kingdom of Heaven with everyone we meet by healing and teaching and building relationships.
And then, we get to the parables.

This coming week we are going to talk each day about some of the shorter parables…
The Kingdom of Heaven is like a mustard seed, or leaven, or a net thrown into the ocean…
But for the next two weeks, I want to focus on some of the big and complicated parables we find in this gospel.

Parables, as I shared in yesterday’s devotion, are stories about ordinary things that draw people in, but have a meaning that is often hidden from plain sight.
They are meant to provoke us, to get under our skin, or as Debie Thomas puts it: “show us things we don’t want to see.”
Because they are stories, they have layers of interpretation, not just one way of seeing them. Jewish rabbis in the time of Jesus would have debated and wrestled and turned a scripture upside down and inside out and every single time would have discovered something new within it.
That is how we are invited to dive in… with open minds and willing spirits.
We are invited to dig into the history and the context that surrounds these simple narratives to try to grasp how the crowds around Jesus might have heard them.
And then we are supposed to ask how God is working to challenge the assumptions we bring into the story.

So today, we have the parable of the wedding banquet.
Now, usually when we look at this parable, we imagine that the King is God, right? God has invited the chosen ones to the party, and when they refuse, God throws open the doors to anyone else who might come.
Well, that is the sanitized version of that story.
Because it skips over all of the terrifying parts.
This is not a happy and blissful scene, but something that is straight out of a horror film.
When the invited guests don’t show up, in his rage, the king has them all murdered and sets the whole city on fire.

Then, the king pulls in everyone who is left – good or bad, rich or poor – and in essence, forces them to attend the party.
I mean, if they refuse, they might turn out like those initial guests, right?
All of these leftover nobodies show up, probably with fear and trembling.
Then, when the King looks out at the crowd, he sees one person who isn’t wearing the right thing and has him thrown out into the darkness.

Debie Thomas asks us:
“As Christ’s followers, do we really believe in a God as petty, vengeful, hotheaded, and thin-skinned as the king in this parable? A God who burns an entire city to the ground in order to appease his wounded ego? A God who forces people to celebrate…while his armies wreak destruction right outside? A God who casts an impoverished guest into the “outer darkness” for reasons the guest absolutely can’t control? Obviously the answer is no. Of course we don’t believe in a God as monstrous as that. Do we?”

One of the things that I remember my grandpa saying pretty clearly is that he didn’t understand the God of the Old Testament.
The God he found there was violent.
The God he found there punished the people.
But the God of the New Testament was full of grace and mercy and forgiveness.

But I think we can only say that is true if we selectively read through the scriptures and we skip over interpretations of parables like this.
And I’m reminded that it also requires us to skip over the promises and visions of abundance and love we find in the Torah and Prophets and Writings.
In fact, in the back of my mind, I’ve been thinking about not the wedding feast of terror from our reading today, but the feast of abundance in Isaiah 25 and 55.

Isaiah cries out…
…the Lord of heavenly forces will prepare for all peoples
a rich feast, a feast of choice wines,
of select foods rich in flavor…
He will swallow up on this mountain the veil … swallow up death forever.
The Lord God will wipe tears from every face;
he will remove his people’s disgrace from off the whole earth,
for the Lord has spoken.
They will say on that day,
“Look! This is our God,
for whom we have waited—
and he has saved us!

All of you who are thirsty, come to the water!
Whoever has no money, come, buy food and eat!
Without money, at no cost, buy wine and milk!
Why spend money for what isn’t food,
and your earnings for what doesn’t satisfy?
Listen carefully to me and eat what is good;
enjoy the richest of feasts.
Listen and come to me;
listen, and you will live.

Surrounding these passages are mentions of God’s judgement.
Of walls being trampled and people being destroyed.
But here is the thing about the prophets.
They were speaking to a people who were actively experiencing their own ruin.
Their cities were being overrun and burned to the ground by occupying forces.
Their neighbors were being killed.
And they had to try to make sense of what was happening.
How could God have let them down?
Why weren’t they protected?
And what the prophets proclaimed in this moment is that the rulers and the people needed to acknowledge their own sin and complicity and failures.
But every single time, the prophets also spoke of Gods redemptive love.
They set forth a vision of abundance and grace and restoration.
You see, the God proclaimed in these texts is not petty or cruel… no, God’s steadfast love endures forever.
God is patiently waiting, with the banquet table always abundantly set, ready to swallow up death forever.

How do we reconcile that vision with our traditional interpretations of this parable?
Maybe we start by asking new questions.
I was a bit blown away when Debie Thomas posed a question in her reflection:
“What if the king in the parable isn’t God at all?”
“What if the king embodies everything we’ve learned to associate with divine power and authority from watching other, all-too-human kings and rulers?

This king, after all, acts a whole lot more like Herod that the God we find in scripture.
You know, the one who went out and murdered infants because he felt his rule was threatened.
This king acts a whole lot more like the Roman Empire, which has subjugated the people of Israel.

Perhaps, Jesus tells the parable in precisely this way because he wants to challenge the assumptions we have about the kind of Kingdom he is bringing.
A parable, after all, shows us things that we don’t want to see.
Not about God, but about ourselves.
This parable comes on the heels in Matthew’s Gospel of his triumphant entry into Jerusalem.
There were some there, who wanted God’s reign to come with violence. They hoped for an overthrow of the Roman empire.
But there were also those like the religious leaders who believed that God’s reign was exclusive and filled with judgment. They sought to arrest and kill Jesus because he was not playing by their expectations and rules.
What is Jesus trying to get us to see?
If God is not the King… where do we find the Kingdom of Heaven in this parable?

In the parables we will explore over this next week in our daily devotion… Jesus tells us the Kingdom of Heaven is hidden. It is quiet. It is blossoming. It is unexpected. It is contagious. It is inclusive. It can’t be stopped.

When I hold those Kingdom of Heaven values up to this parable, I come to a surprising insight.
What if the Kingdom of Heaven is centered not on the powerful ruler, but the one person who has the courage to stand out?
The one who refuses to follow the rules of the party, the empire, the world.
As Debie Thomas puts it, “What if the ‘God figure’ in the parable is… the one brave guest who decides he’d rather be ‘bound hand and foot’ and cast into the outer darkness of Gethsemane, Calvary, the cross, and the grave…?”

After all, just prior to this parable, Jesus challenges the religious leaders quoting scripture to them:
“The stone that the builders rejected has become the cornerstone. The Lord has done this, and it’s amazing in our eyes.”

The Kingdom of Heaven is not a feast of terror where guests are forced to attend by the threat of sword and fire.
The Kingdom of Heaven is a feast of abundance that turns upside down our notions of power.
It is where tears are wiped away.
It embodies the kind of love the Apostle Paul speaks of in 1 Corinthians 13.
The Kingdom of Heaven is patient.
The Kingdom of Heaven is not easily angered.
The Kingdom of Heaven keeps no account of wrongs… not taking pleasure in wrong doing, but rejoicing in the truth.
The Kingdom of Heaven endures all things… even the threats and violence of the world.

In fact, it is the rejection by this world that lays the cornerstone for God’s will to be done among us.

Last week, we compared the values of the kingdoms of earth and the Kingdom of Heaven.
Today, we are invited to imagine ourselves as those invited guests…
Will we allow fear and intimidation to keep us in the world?
Or are we willing to take up our crosses and stand against the forces of evil, injustice, and oppression?
It was a decision that the disciples would have to make just a few days after Jesus shared these words.
Some of them betrayed Jesus and handed him over.
Some of them fled.
Some of them tried to fight.
Some of them denied who he was.
You see, standing against this world feels almost impossible.

Almost.
Because even our rejection cannot stop the Kingdom from taking hold.
Even our hesitation cannot stop the Spirit from moving.
God’s steadfast love endures forever.
And God is patiently waiting for us, with the banquet table always abundantly set, ready to swallow up death and fear and oppression forever.
All we have to do accept the invitation.

The Beginning in the End

Posted on March 25, 2018Leave a comment

We spend so much of our lives looking for a savior.
In the book of Judges, chapter 3 – the Israelites cry out for a savior when the going gets tough… and God responds by lifting up individuals who would save the people… Othniel and Ehud and Deborah.
Over and over, the Psalmists cry out for a savior: “Save us!” Oh God… “Hosanna!”
“Save us by your power and answer us so that the people you love might be rescued.” (Psalm 60:5)
A savior will resolve our problems.
A savior will end our struggles and oppression.
A savior will rescue us from despair.
As the Remy Zero song, the theme for the television show, Smallville, goes, “somebody save me… I don’t care how you do it.”

But when the hero shows up… how quickly we discover that we only want a savior on our terms.
How soon do we start to question the motives, the control, the power of the one who is acting on our behalf…

We do care how our savior shows up.
We have ideas and expectations and want that saving to be on our terms.
And so you find pundits and politicians questioning the presence of Superman in the world in much the same way as the Pharisees question the actions of Jesus.

But it is not just the leaders who turn their backs on this savior in Jesus day…
The crowds who lined the streets to welcome Jesus to Jerusalem, riding on a donkey, cried out “Save us!” “Hosanna!” But in reality, they did care how he saved them.
They wanted a king.
They wanted an earthly victory where Rome got kicked out of their country.
They wanted a personal savior on their own terms.
And as soon as Jesus was arrested and their path to freedom started to dim, their shouts turned to “Crucify Him!”
When death looms on the horizon…
When hope starts to fade…
When our savior becomes powerless… or even dies…
Then where do we turn for help?

It is fascinating that one of the most powerful superheroes in the entire comic book world, Superman, is also one that has faced death. In the 1993 comic book series, he dies in the arms of Lois Lane after fighting a villain to death. This storyline was revisited again in the 2016 film, Batman v Superman. The entire world goes into mourning over the savior who they thought would always be there to rescue them from disaster.
Jesus, too, not only faces death, but embraces it.
Death is a part of his calling.
“Unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains a single grain,” he tells the crowds (John 12).
But our limited imaginations see death as the end of our stories.
Life is where we are rescued.
Death is defeat.
And if the cross is where Jesus is headed, we want no part of it.
I think this is because we want a savior who acts more like Superman than like Jesus… even if we have doubts about the extent of his power.
Matt Rawle reminds us that Superman saves us over and over again, but “I don’t really have to love my neighbor with Superman flying around. If things get bad, Superman will just swoop in and fix them. There’s not much reason to build up neighborhoods, improve education, feed the hungry, and clothe the naked. If it gets bad, Superman will know what to do.” (p. 125)
Isn’t that how some of us as Christians in this world act?
Jesus is my Savior, so I just need to believe, and I will be rescued from this world of sin and carried away to heaven where everything is perfect.
We want a savior who will save the day without us lifting a finger.
And if that savior is headed towards the defeat of death… there is no saving there for us.

This is because the crowds drastically misunderstood how Jesus saves us.
The kingdom Jesus ushers in doesn’t start in some heaven far away, but right here and right now.
The kingdom is like a mustard seed that someone took and planted in a garden.
The kingdom is like yeast, hidden in flour.
The kingdom is like a grain of sand in an oyster.
The kingdom is like a treasure that is buried.

The kingdom breaks forth out of what we thought was dead, buried, hidden away.
The kingdom is the power of new life rising out of death.
The kingdom says that in every end there is a new beginning.

Just like those crosses that we gave our children this morning in the children’s message will sprout and give birth to new life if we care and tend them, so too, does the life of Jesus unexpectedly bring forth something new out of what we thought was over and done with.
The mustard seed becomes a great tree.
The yeast causes the bread to rise.
The sand becomes a pearl.
The treasure is uncovered.
In the bulb there is a flower.
The stone that sealed the tomb has been rolled away.

Our journey over this next week takes us from the last meal Jesus shares with his disciples, through the cross, and takes us all the way to Sunday morning.
We discover that the cry of “It is finished” on the cross is not the end, but the beginning of what is starting in your life and in mine.
A spark is lit in the world and in our hearts so that we might go out and be the hands and feet of God in this world.
At the end of “Batman vs. Superman,” the world is in mourning because they believe that one of their heroes is dead. People of all stripes are gathered holding candles around his tomb.
And there is an amazing inscription written in chalk below his symbol:
“if you seek his monument – look around you.”

That is the message of the gospel.
We don’t have to wait for heaven.
We don’t have to wait for rescue.
We are invited, encouraged, called… God is BEGGING us to get busy being a part of the work of the kingdom right here and right now.
What the world thought was an ending was only the beginning.
Now the story is YOURS to live.
You are the hero that someone is waiting for.
So go out there, in the name of Jesus, and do it.

Two Texts: Privilege and the Beloved Community

Posted on August 30, 20152 Comments

In my life, I have been pulled over by a police officer perhaps half a dozen times. One was for a broken taillight and the rest were for speeding.

Every single time, my heart rate rose and my palms got sweaty. I was nervous. I felt guilty. I knew I was in trouble.

But never, ever, did I fear for my life during a traffic stop.

Never have I ever felt unsafe in the presence of an authority figure.

And never, after one of those stops, have I received a ticket.

Contrast my story with that of a woman named Sandra Bland, who was pulled over for failing to signal a lane change on July 10 this summer.

Maybe her palms got sweaty. Maybe her heart rate started to rise. Maybe she was nervous or had feelings of guilt. Maybe she knew she was in trouble.

Maybe she feared for her life.

Maybe she felt unsafe in the presence of an authority figure.

Maybe her fight or flight instinct kicked in.

As the conversation between her and the officer escalated, Sandra Bland was arrested.

Will you pray with me.

Gracious God, may the words of my mouth and the meditations of all our hearts and minds be holy and pleasing to you, O God, our Rock and our Redeemer.

Three days after Sandra Bland was pulled over for failing to signal when she changed lanes, she was found dead in her jail cell.

It was my first day back in the office after my renewal leave, and I decided that morning that I wanted to do this series in worship.

Because we live in world where I, a white woman, am pulled over for speeding and I am sent on my way without a ticket, and where another person, an African-American woman, is pulled over and ends up dead.

Maybe she took her own life. Maybe she was murdered.

I honestly have no idea. And I’m not sure that it matters, because either way, the result is the loss of her life.

And to be honest, I can’t know the heart of the arresting officer to know if he treated her differently based on the color of her skin.

The problem is, I have heard her story too many times.

In November of last year, Bishop Julius Calvin Trimble, our bishop, shared his story as part of lecture at Cornell College:

In 1974, when I was a second year college student, I, along with my younger brother James, went to visit our older brother in California. He lived near Palo Alto, California and was working for Hewlett Packard as a computer engineer. While traveling to his apartment in his Volkswagen Beetle we were stopped by police who questioned my brother and asked for license and registration. Even though he produced his license, registration and work identification we were still told to exit the car with hands up. Additional squad cars arrived and with guns drawn on them, three young African American men were handcuffed and taken to jail. We remained handcuffed for about 45 minutes and were then released after being told that my brother’s car was not stolen but we looked out of place and suspicious driving in that community. My older brother, John, now a college professor, was, at the time of the incident, a graduate of Northwestern University and Stanford University. 1974 was a long time ago, but thousands of African Americans have similar stories. A recent CNN special highlighted one college student in New York who had been stooped and frisked over 100 times. (http://iowabeencouraged.blogspot.com/search?updated-max=2015-01-06T11:01:00-06:00&max-results=1&start=6&by-date=false)

What I do know is that this is not the regular experience of my white brothers and sisters.

What I do know is that this is not about conflict between African Americans and police officers. That might be one facet or symptom of what is going on, but that’s not what this is about.

We, all of us, have stopped seeing the image of God in the eyes of another person.

We have become comfortable in our own stories and situations, in our own class or race or gender, and we have stopped reaching beyond them to be in real relationship with other people.

We have started to believe that their lives don’t matter to us.

Perhaps Jesus saw this happening around him when he told a story to a man who would have been his disciple:

There was once a man traveling from Jerusalem to Jericho. On the way he was attacked by robbers. They took his clothes, beat him up, and went off leaving him half-dead. Luckily, a priest was on his way down the same road, but when he saw him he angled across to the other side. Then a Levite religious man showed up; he also avoided the injured man.

A Samaritan traveling the road came on him. When he saw the man’s condition, his heart went out to him. He gave him first aid, disinfecting and bandaging his wounds. Then he lifted him onto his donkey, led him to an inn, and made him comfortable. In the morning he took out two silver coins and gave them to the innkeeper, saying, ‘Take good care of him. If it costs any more, put it on my bill—I’ll pay you on my way back.’ (Luke 10:30-35, MSG)

The priest decided that the life of this man didn’t matter.

He responsibilities to attend to and couldn’t defile himself.

The Levite decided that the life of this man didn’t matter.

He had an image to maintain.

They had other things to worry about.

They were special.

They were different.

And that man didn’t matter.

The Samaritans were mixed race people who were often thought of as lesser than their Jewish cousins. He would have been bound by the same rules as the priest and Levite when it came to touching a bleeding, dying man.

Yet the Samaritan stopped.

The Samaritan believed that this life… that every life… holds the image of God and is of sacred worth.

The Samaritan went out of their way to show love and care and mercy towards this person.

Privilege can be defined as a right, immunity or benefit enjoyed by someone beyond the advantages of most.

It can be defined as the position someone holds that exempts them from burdens or problems.

Privilege is always social. It describes our relationship to other people and how we are either the beneficiaries of that position, or we are the group that privileged status is being compared to.

Religious Privilege is being a Priest or a Levite instead of a Samaritan and feeling like you are immune from having to stop and check on the welfare of another human being.

Male Privilege is making 17% more money working the same job than your female counterparts.

Class Privilege is being able to choose to eat healthy food if you want, because you live in a neighborhood with grocery stores or you own transportation to get you there and back.

Ability Privilege means that as a healthy person, you don’t have to think about your daily pain level when planning activities and events.

Racial Privilege is getting a cut, opening the first aid kit, and the flesh-colored band-aid matches your skin tone.

And what we discover in this world is that we are never simply one of these things.

Some of us experience multiple advantages and privileges based upon who we are.

Some of us experience a mixture of them all.

Some of us find ourselves at the intersection of multiple social disadvantages and burdens.

Our world today is not the Beloved Community envisioned by Dr. King or the Kingdom of God lifted up by Jesus and described by Paul.

It is not a place where Jewish and Palestinian kids can go to school in peace.

It is not a world where transgender women and straight women experience the same judicial system.

This is not a country where black boys and white girls will grow up with the same opportunities.

And the biggest problem is that we who experience the advantages often don’t even realize the privileges we hold.

We are so caught up in our own experiences that we don’t see that of others.

Just this last week, I got an email from our Commission on Persons with Disabilities in our annual conference. In the process of planning annual conference worship, I tried hard to include people who spoke various languages, genders, ages, ethnicities… and the email was a gentle reminder that no one who led worship had a physical disability.

Privilege is looking up at the stage at annual conference or up in the front during worship and knowing that the person who is there looks or talks like you.

I know how important that is, because I remember when I looked up at the stage and saw a woman preaching and I thought… I could do this.

Yet, because of my social location, providing that same opportunity to someone who was differently abled didn’t even cross my mind.

But it does now.

In our video this morning, Bishop Warner Brown, the President of our Council of Bishops tells us that:

Hope occurs in the places where we meet people. It involves where people live, where they work, where they face the challenges of life.

Hope occurs in the places where we meet people who don’t look or talk or move like us.

Hope occurs when we let love and not fear rule our actions.

Hope occurs when we cross over the road to where we see someone who is at a disadvantage – whether they have been injured or oppressed or are struggling or are behind – and we stop to see the image of God in them.

Hope occurs when we shed our own privilege and step out of our comfort zones to meet someone where they are.

Hope occurs when we listen more than we speak about our life experiences.

As we hear in 1 John, chapter 4:

This is love… not that we loved God, but that God loved us and sent his son to sacrifice his life for us.

And if God loves us in this way… so we should love one another in this way.

Love without fear.

Love without privilege.

Love without question.

Love.

Save Us!

Posted on March 29, 2015Leave a comment

Some of you sometimes ask what I like to do in my spare time and one of my favorite things to do is binge watching television. I like all sorts of things, from Grey’s Anatomy to Breaking Bad, but I also have a healthy obsession with British television and sci-fi. Both of which are perfectly satisfied by Doctor Who. About five years ago, I discovered Doctor Who and I think I’ve watched every episode of the newer material about three or four times.

So, what, you might be wondering, does Doctor Who have to do with Palm Sunday?

Well, this is a show about a time-traveling alien with twelve lives, but of all the places the Doctor could go in the world, Earth seems to be his favorite. One the one hand, he sees its vulnerability and innocence. On the other, he praises humanity for their survivability and curiosity, their fortitude and spirit of exploration. He wants to see them thrive.

In the series two premiere, Christmas has come, but chaos is reigning on our planet with a large alien war ship hovering over London. The Sycorax have seized control of 1/3 of the population and Prime Minister Harriet Jones issues an urgent plea – “Doctor, if you are out there, save us!”

That’s what we all hope for, isn’t it? Someone to save us? Someone to make everything better and the monsters and demons and agonies of our lives to go away?

When Jesus appeared on the scene in Galilee, people flocked to the countryside, to the houses, to the shores just to catch a glimpse of this man who would save them. He healed their illness, he cast out their demons, he even forgave sins… He made their worldly pains go away. He saved them from their current predicaments. He was amazing.

And then, like any good Savior, he rides in on a donkey, the ancient world’s version of a white horse or a blue box to save the day and make everything better.

You see, that’s what the people thought Jesus was there to do. He fufills the prophecy, as told in Zechariah 9: the symbolic triumphant entry of a King into Jerusalem on a young donkey:

“Rejoice, greatly, O Daughter of Zion! Shout, Daughter of Jerusalem! See, your king comes to you, righteous and having salvation, gentle and riding on a donkey, on a colt, the foal of a donkey.”

Unlike conquering forces who rode in on war horses, this was the sign of a true king – the one who brings peace and hope to the people.

And so when he rides into Jerusalem on the back of a colt, when he comes bringing peace and hope, the people spontaneously shout out: HOSANNA! Which means Save us!

Their lives are full of problems and stresses and this Jesus has shown that he can solve them.

He can heal them.

He can save them.

He is on their side.

HOSANNA!

Only, Jesus doesn’t save us in the way we expect.

They, and we, expect our hero to be a Clint Eastwood or Sylvester Stallone type hero: riding in to save the day, confident, untouchable, there is no question that they will triumph.

But Jesus appears more like Frodo Baggins: he seems to be facing an uphill battle, he is humble, at times during this holy week questioning his purpose, and yet always willing to sacrifice his own life for the purpose to which he was called.

In our Philippians reading this morning, that picture of a humble servant is painted for us. It has come to be known as the Christ Hymn – a song of praise for the one who gave everything up, the one who emptied himself of power and life rather than grasping at it for himself and for others.

Repeatedly, Jesus demonstrates humility. He gave up his seat at the right hand of God to be born among us, an infant whose life was in danger from the very start. He reached out to the hurting and sick and those imprisoned by sin. He invited them to his table and was rejected for doing so. He touched the unclean and welcomed children onto his lap.

Jesus went to the underdogs of this world. Those who don’t have power, money, or the system on their side, and he loved them.

If that was how he lived his life, I’m not sure why we expect the road to salvation will be different.

We want fireworks and trumpets and victory, but instead the path before us this week is marked by the cross.

Jesus will spend the coming week in Jerusalem, but he doesn’t leave victorious… he leaves carried away to be buried in a tomb. The people couldn’t understand how his way of humility and love and grace and sacrifice could bring about the reign of God and TRULY save them and us… save us not from our current oppressive problems but save us to the core of our very being.

And so they stubbornly turn their backs on him. Like children, they stomp their feet and pout: If he refuses to help me the way I want to be helped, I don’t want any part of it.

I find “The Christmas Invasion” episode of Doctor Who to be such an interesting parallel, because the Doctor too is rejected in the end. He stands up for earth and is willing to be their champion in an epic duel for the planet. And although he defeats the Sycorax, he does so without killing the leader. He sends them packing with a warning – “When you go back to the stars and tell others of this planet, when you tell them of its riches, its people, its potential, when you talk of the Earth, then make sure that you tell them this… IT IS DEFENDED!”

And the Sycorax leave. They head back for the stars.

But Harriet Jones… the one who cried, “Save Us!” in the first place is not satisfied.

He didn’t save them in the way she hoped he would.

He didn’t save them in a way that would continue to isolate them from the stars.

He didn’t save them in the way that she was completely willing to do. And so with a word, Harriet Jones signals for a weapon to be fired and the Sycorax are blown out of the sky.

We are not happy when things don’t go our way. And when our “savior” comes along and isn’t what we expected, it is surprising how quickly we turn to violence. How quickly we become the very thing we are fighting against. How quickly we lose our humanity in a desperate attempt to cling to the salvation we think we deserved.

Just five days after they shouted in the streets for Jesus to save them, the people reject Jesus, and shout for him to be crucified instead.

And as Paul writes in Philippians, Christ was obedient to God’s will, Jesus remained the humble servant, even when it meant death on the cross.

When we praise Jesus, it is not the triumphant entry, but the cross that truly shows us God’s glory. In giving up his power, in emptying himself, in this act of love, Jesus reveals what divine power is all about: non-abusive, patient, never grasping, “power… made perfect in weakness” (2 Corinthians 12:9)

Today, we live on the other side of the cross. We know the power of the resurrection. We know that death was not defeat at all, and that Christ has not only risen from the dead but has been exalted on high.

The question is: how do we live in light of that knowledge?

From a jail cell, Paul penned the “Christ Hymn” and encouraged the Philippians to embrace the power of Jesus… to “adopt the attitude that was in Christ Jesus.” (2:5)

We are to let go of our power and live in obedience to God’s will.

Here at this church, we claim a particular vision: In Christ, live a life of love, service and prayer.

Our salvation demands that we live as Jesus lived.

And as we adopt the mind of Christ, our eyes are opened to those all around us who are in need of love, and service, and prayer.

We are called to love: we are called to go and stand with the widow and the orphan. We are called to the dark and lonely corners of this community – to the people who have no one and to carry the love of Christ with us… even if it means putting our own lives on the line.

We are called to serve: We are called to be in relationship with people and offer ourselves. We are called to sacrifice time and energy and money to help our brothers and sisters. And that service extends to more than just a handout… we are called to bow down in service and treat those with whom we minister as honored guests.

Finally, we are called to pray: Sarah Coakley believes that to be in Christ, we need to practice prayer. We need to “cease to set the agenda… [and] make space for God to be God.” In doing so… in praying for our community and our world, we set aside what we think we are entitled to and instead ask for God’s will to be done. We ask for God to give us the courage and strength to act on behalf of those who can’t.

Today, Jesus rides triumphantly into Jerusalem.

He rides not on a war horse, but a humble donkey.

He rides not to conquer and destroy, but to die for our sins and to set us free.

As one of my colleagues wrote this week:

We thought that we wanted a King.

We thought of all that he would bring.

Power and might and wealth and singing.

We thought we wanted a King.

Instead, we got everything. (Jessica Harren)

Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord!

Blessed is the one who sets the prisoner free!

Blessed is the one who comes to save us!

The Shepherd King

Posted on November 23, 2014Leave a comment

As each year draws to an end, another begins.

It is a cycle, an ebb and flow, watching and waiting, the birth of the promise, and then we watch as that promise is fulfilled in the life of Jesus Christ. We witness each year his life, his death, his resurrection. We watch as the Holy Spirit blows among the people and how the people of God respond.

And at the end of every yearly cycle, we have a glimpse of the Kingdom. We have a glimpse of the one who will rule forever, eternal in the heavens.

In our epistle this morning, Paul gives thanks for the faith and the love of the Ephesians, and continues to pray that they might know Christ, who sits at “God’s right side in the heavens, far above every ruler and authority and power and angelic power, any power that might be named not only now but in the future.”

You know…. The King of Kings and Lord of Lords that is promised in Isaiah.

And so today, the last Sunday in the church year, we celebrate Christ the King. We remind ourselves of his power and glory and majesty.

And next week, the cycle begins anew as we return to waiting and preparation in the season of Advent.

Christ the King.

What does it even mean for Christ to be the king of our lives?

What kind of King will he be?

Some kings in our modern culture are ruthless dictators.

Other kings are figureheads who only represent power.

I might have been watching too much Game of Thrones lately, but when I think of a king, the first image that comes to mind is a ruler on the Iron Throne.

A leader who is a part from the people, indifferent to their plight unless it affects him personally.

I picture a king whose battles and wars are for his glory and power.

Other biblical images of kings find people who are full of both faults and incredible wisdom. At times, we see them sitting in judgment over the people, much like we find Jesus doing in the vision of the end in Matthew 25.

The King is the final arbiter of the law. When there is conflict among the people, the case is brought before him as their ruler for a word of justice.

Often, when we think of traditional ideas of kingship, the ruler is the judge, jury, and executioner who parse out sentences according to the laws of the land.

Laws that he probably wrote.

So, it is to be expected that when we come to the end… the end of the year, the end of our lives, the end of the earthly realm… that the King of Kings and Lord of Lords will sit upon the throne and will give a final account. He will determine who is worthy to enter the kingdom.

In Matthew 25:31-32: “When the Son of Man comes in his majesty and all his angels are with him, he will sit on his majestic throne. All the nations will be gathered in front of him. He will separate them from each other, just as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats.”

Just as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats.

What are shepherds doing in this story?

Historically speaking, shepherds and kings belong on opposite ends of the social spectrum.

While kings have armies at their disposal, the shepherd personally protects the sheep. His very body is their first line of defense.

While a king leads from on high, issuing orders through his commanders and sending word through the land, the shepherd leads from the midst of the sheep.

I learned that there is a difference between the way we lead sheep here in the West and how they would have done it in Jesus time, and continue to do in the east. We often herd our sheep like a king would – pushing them forward towards their destination, often with the aid of sheep dogs or other animals. When they begin to go the wrong direction, we push them onwards, or the dogs nip at their heels, and eventually they get where they are supposed to.

In the East however, the shepherd personally led his flock. He would have stood near the front of the flock, but was always in the midst of them. As he walked, they would walk with him. Wherever he went, they would go.

Kings are often indifferent to the plight of their people, but a shepherd knows each one in his flock by name. And a shepherd wouldn’t hesitate to leave behind the entire flock in order to search for one that was lost.

Jesus, the King of Kings and Lord of Lords, judges us, calls us to account, in the way a shepherd would.

He gathers the flock together and calls them by name.

He speaks and at the sound of his voice, those who recognize him come running near.

But what they and we are surprised by is that Jesus doesn’t judge us by the laws of the church and the kingdom. You know…. by how many times we came to church or even by holding us accountable to the 10 commandments. He doesn’t ask if we ate shellfish or if we were circumcised. He doesn’t separate the married from the divorced. He says not a word about the tithe or ask how many times we lied.

He separates the people into those who fed and clothed the poor, who welcomed the stranger, who visited the sick and imprisoned…. And those who didn’t.

Jesus, our King, is a shepherd at heart.

Even at the end, his concern is always for the flock. It is for the lost, and the least and the last. It is for those who have been forgotten.

The rules are only good in so far as they have led us to be shepherds alongside him in the world.

You see, Jesus is the King of Kings and Lord of Lords and Shepherd of Shepherds and as his people, as his body the church, OUR task is also to care for the flock.

I got to thinking about Jesus our Shepherd King when the story came out a few weeks ago about Arnold Abbott who was arrested for feeding the homeless. Abbott is 90 years old and has now been arrested twice for this act of loving his neighbor.

I got to thinking about Jesus our Shepherd King when I learned of the death of Dr. Salia this past Monday. Dr. Salia went to Africa to serve at the Kissy United Methodist Hospital in Sierra Leone. He went to the sick, to offer his gifts and skills, and contracted Ebola while he cared for those who were ill.

I got to thinking about Jesus our Shepherd King when I think of the hundreds of people who have poured into Ferguson to stand in solidarity with a community that is frustrated and grieving after the death of Michael Brown… especially those who have worked to bring non-violent training to the young people who felt like they had no other options but violence. Today, I hold them all in prayer as they await the grand jury decision.

I got to thinking about Jesus our Shepherd King when I think about one of our United Methodist ministers here in Iowa, Rev. Dr. Larry Sonner, who has had a complaint filed against him for officiating a same-sex marriage.

In all of these complicated and difficult situations, I feel the tension between the law and tradition and scripture and what we are supposed to do… and the call to be with and serve the flock, to tend the sheep, to care for the people.

“Then the king will say to those on his right, ‘Come, you who will receive good things from my Father. Inherit the kingdom that was prepared for you before the world began. ³⁵I was hungry and you gave me food to eat. I was thirsty and you gave me a drink. I was a stranger and you welcomed me. ³⁶I was naked and you gave me clothes to wear. I was sick and you took care of me. I was in prison and you visited me.’

None of these are easy situations. Our lives are full of complicated choices that can put us in danger or on the wrong side of the law or put us at odds with our neighbors.

But as Paul prays for the Ephesians, so I pray for us… here at Immanuel, in the Iowa Annual Conference, for the people in Ferguson, and for our brothers and sisters across this world who are hungry and homeless and sick and imprisoned:

“I pray that that the God of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of glory, will give you a spirit of wisdom and revelation that makes God known to you. ¹⁸I pray that the eyes of your heart will have enough light to see what is the hope of God’s call, what is the richness of God’s glorious inheritance among believers, ¹⁹and what is the overwhelming greatness of God’s power that is working among us believers.”

Christ is our King. Christ is the head of our church and our lives. Christ is the shepherd who is leading this flock.

May we turn our hearts towards prayer. May we seek God’s wisdom and power and hope. May we hear the voice of our shepherd and may we go where he leads us.

Amen. And Amen.

The Gift of Peace

Posted on July 4, 2010Leave a comment

How many of you watched the world cup this year?

How many of you know what a vuvuzula is?

To roughly describe it, a vuvuzula is a long narrow horn – about two and a half feet long – that is a part of South African soccer culture. Perhaps no one quite expected them to catch on as much as they did and the soccer games this year had so many vuvuzelas that there was a constant noise in the background as fans across the world watched the matches.

These simple horns can produce up to 120 decibels of sound when you are standing just three feet in front of them. That is as loud as a rock concert or a jet engine. It’s kind of hard to believe that such a little piece of plastic can make all that noise!

At that level of sound, there can be permanent hearing loss, damage, and actual pain from the noise that is involved.

So, if we imagine 300 men, surrounding the Midianite army in the middle of the night, blowing horns and smashing pots and creating the noise of 300 rock concerts going off in the middle of the night – maybe, just maybe, we can understand why the Midianite army turned around and fled before a rag tag bunch of soldiers under the command of a man named Gideon.

As children, when we hear the stories of God’s victory in the Old Testament, we might be reminded of how Joshua fit the battle of Jericho and made the walls come tumbling down with marching and shouting. We might think of the shepherd boy David and how he took down the giant of a man Goliath and thus saved the day. Or we might think of the story we heard this morning about Gideon’s defeat of the enemies with a bunch of horns and smashed pots.

As children, we hear the tales of God’s victory… but rarely do we go into the harsh realities of battle and war. We conveniently skip over the parts of the story where men, women, children, and animals are destroyed in the name of God.

As adults, we often reread these familiar and inspiring stories only to wonder what kind of a God the Old Testament describes… how could this be the same Prince of Peace that we find in the gospels? Where is the God of mercy and love? we wonder.

I know that more than one of you has come up to me, either after Bible studies, or even after last weeks’ message about the defeat of the Egyptians and admit that your hearts are heavy with the war and destruction. We don’t understand the genocide that we read on these pages that accompany God’s victory. We can’t comprehend the loss of life.

Or maybe we can. Maybe these battles seem so real to us because of the wars that we engage in. We, as a nation, have been fighting in Afghanistan for almost nine years. In your lifetimes, we have been apart of war on five continents.

And while on a day like today, when we celebrate our nation’s independence, we know that these battles were entered to preserve and defend the truths for which we stand… at the same time, we are tired of all the fighting.

Last night, during the parade, my niece and nephews came and watched the festivities. And as the procession turned the corner from North onto Western and we caught a glimpse of the color guard, they started singing – “you’re a grand old flag.”

Now – of all the patriotic songs for them to choose, that was the one they started singing. And at ages 5 and 8, they knew all of the words. You’re a grand old flag. You’re a high flying flag and forever in peace may you wave…..

And forever in peace may you wave… those words jumped out as me as these children sang them.

Forever in peace…

I once believed that the opposite of peace was war.

I believed that we would finally have peace in our lives when men and women… but mostly men… laid down their weapons.

I believed that peace would come when all of our brothers and sisters and mothers and fathers and sons and daughters returned home.

But I’m not sure that is true anymore.

Anyone you ask will tell you that we have a lack of peace in our world, but we also lack peace in our nation, in our state, and in our families.

Just because swords and guns are no present, does not mean there will be peace. Peace must be bigger than a lack of war. Peace must encompass more than the fights we find ourselves in. The peace that we seek is like the peace of Isaiah in chapter 65….

I will rejoice over Jerusalem

and take delight in my people;
the sound of weeping and of crying

will be heard in it no more.

“Never again will there be in it

an infant who lives but a few days,

or an old man who does not live out his years;
They will build houses and dwell in them;
they will plant vineyards and eat their fruit…
They will not toil in vain
or bear children doomed to misfortune…

The wolf and the lamb will feed together,

and the lion will eat straw like the ox

In the Old Testament… this vision that is lifted up is a dream of Shalom. It is a Hebrew word that means peace, not only in terms of fighting and conflict – but peace in terms of a whole vision of life. As one commentator put it, “everything fits together, the relationships work like they were designed to, and things just work right.” (http://listeningtoscripture.com/Textual_Studies/Isaiah/12isaiahspeace.html)

Paul Hanson says that shalom is “the realm where chaos is not allowed to enter, and where life can be fostered free from the fear of all which diminishes and destroys.”

Doesn’t that sound amazing? A life free from the fear of all that could destroy us?

That is the peace that we seek. When we are farmers and the usual flow of the seasons and the weather doesn’t cooperate… we fear that drought or too much water could destroy our crops and our livelihood.

When we work with machines, say in a factory, there are constant safety protocols to keep the terrible from happening… we are constantly regulating the chaos and trying to prevent spills, injuries, and death.

When we are a part of families and we try to manage our time and our schedules, we fear that we won’t have enough time with one another and that our relationships will suffer because of it.

The opposite of peace isn’t war… but chaos. A life where there is no freedom from fear. A life where any and everything takes away from our ability to live and live abundantly.

How many of you have some measure of chaos in your lives today?

In Ancient Israel, chaos was the norm. Nation states were constantly fighting for land and power and dominance. There were no programs for social security and a single drought could wipe a family out. That was if they had anything left after the rulers took away their goods.

In the time of Gideon, the people were afraid. Their crops were being confiscated, their lands were being consumed by the Midianites and they cried out for help.

And God responded… NOT by sending them into war… but by reminding them that he was and always has been on their side.

My favorite part of this story is when God whittles away the army of 32,000 able men to 300. Three hundred individuals take nothing but jars and torches and trumpets and scare away a whole army. And God does this to remind them that while human warriors can’t defeat the forces that destroy shalom and bring chaos… God can.

The Israelites have no need to raise a standing army and to set a king over them… like they try to make Gideon do… they have one God who reigns over them. And he will fight for them. They no longer need to be afraid of the things that could destroy them. They only need to trust.

But that trust doesn’t last very long. Their clamor for a king, their cries to be strong like the other nations will not be quieted. And so God allowed them to set a king over themselves. And as Bruce Birch reminds us, “Israel, in the belief that it could create its own security, was in reality flirting with chaos.” If you read through the books of Chronicles and Kings and the prophets you see how time and time again, the kings went to war – with God on their side or not, for power and territory.

They brought chaos upon themselves by trusting in themselves and not in their God.

It would be tempting to say that if we simply trusted in God more, chaos would disappear from our lives. The rains would come more regularly. Our paychecks wouldn’t be so sporadic. Fights between parent and child would diminish.

I’m not sure that God promises us that… at least in this lifetime.

But the peace that is offered to us by Christ is the peace that will get us by. It is the peace that comes from relationships that are returned to their rightful balance through forgiveness and mercy. It is the peace that comes when we learn to trust in God more than our pocketbooks. It is the peace that comes when our priorities are realigned and family comes before our jobs. It is the peace that comes when we remember that while this moment or this present struggle might be difficult, in the end, God is in control and those forces of chaos will not have the final say.

When we are called to be peacemakers by Jesus in Matthew… when we are called to be a shining city on a hill – an example to all… I believe Christ is calling us to trust him. To allow the Spirit of God to enter our lives and transform them. To set us right inside. To set us right with one another. To set us right as a people. And when the chaos of fear leaves our family… or our church… or our town, then people will look at us with wonder and say – what is it that they have figured out?

And then we will point to the One who has come into our lives. And we will share the peace of our hearts with others. Amen and Amen.