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John M. Barry, The Great Influenza: The Story of the Deadliest Pandemic in History (2004, Penguin Books, New York, 2018), 548 pages, some photos, index and notes.
This is an impressive book that does more than just provide a history of the 1918 influenza pandemic. Barry provides a history of medicine especially in the United States, of the science around disease’s transmission, and of how all this came to play in the pandemic that struck the world at the end of World War I. He even suggests that the disease may have shortened the war and may have led to its disaster the followed in which set the stage for the Second World War. The war ended after German’s last great offensive was unable to be continued because too many German troops were ill and unable to sustain German’s advance. In the negotiations afterwards, it appears that many (including Woodrow Wilson) may have battle with influenza (which may have played a role in his stoke). Wilson’s absence and lack of focus toward the end of the negotiations certainly hindered his ability to keep the French imposing punitive measures on Germany.
In an addition to providing background history to the medical profession and the science of disease (which sometimes became confusing to me as a layperson in this area), Barry also describe the transmission of the disease from birds to humans and other animals (especially swine). One it’s in the body, he describes our natural immune response. Interesting (and frightening) is that this strain was so dangerous in younger patients whose immune systems often overreacted and caused a faster death. He also pointed out that most of the deaths weren’t directly from the flu, but because the flu opened up pathways for other infections, especially pneumonia. (This is something that is enlightening in the current COVID-19 debate, as there are some who say that only those who died of COVID only should be counted as a COVID death. Most influenza deaths were not from the flu but from pneumonia).
No one knows for sure where the pandemic began. Although it became known as the Spanish flu, it is certain that the flu didn’t begin there. Spain was relatively late in being attacked by the flu, however since Spain wasn’t at war (unlike the United States, Great Britain, France, Germany and Italy), there was no censorship of the press in Spain, so people often associate the flu with the country reporting the flu. The other countries in war censored the information about the flu to keep information from their enemies even though all armies (and countries) were battling it at the same time.
One theory is that the flu began in Kansas, which had a similar illness in pigs. As those from the area were drafted into the army, they brought the illness into induction centers. Early on, the army was battling the flu. The army, as it began to mobilize after the United States entered the war, began to move personnel around the United States and to Europe. Interestingly, all medical personnel with the military knew the danger of illness being spread by armies (and early on sought to minimize the danger of measles). The disease also travelled in waves, starting in the spring of 1918. The peak was in the fall of 1918, but it kept moving and slightly changing. There were people who caught it more than once, although most who survived an early attack had protection against later attacks. It is also thought that the virus became less lethal in each wave.
Another reason this outbreak was so deadly is that the army sucked up the best doctors and nurses in the country, which left older and ineffective physicians treating civilian populations. The military (and others) passed the disease off as “just influenza” and wasn’t willing to stop the movement of personnel as a way to prevent the disease spread. However, late in the war, they did postpone drafts because the military was having a harder time trying to care for their own ill and were incapable of processing new recruits.
Just as in the current COVID crisis, many places in which influenza was rampant shut down gathering places, including restaurants, bars, churches, and theaters. The lack of knowledge was especially daunting (caused by censorship that kept anything that might slow the war effort down). This led to panic and in many places, people refused to help those in need out of fear of catching the disease. The deaths numbers in some places (especially parts of the world without much natural immunity to influenza viruses) were horrific. Fifty million and perhaps as many as a 100 million worldwide died at a time when the world’s population was 1/3 of what it is today.
I recommend this book, especially now, when we are dealing with another pandemic. The parallels are frightening, and this book could help clear up a lot of the misinformation that abounds today.
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
September 20, 2020
Jeremiah 29:4-14
To watch this service on YouTube go to https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pKiTvhFZ3Sk. If you just want to catch the sermon, go to 18:40, where I began with the scripture reading.
If you know Old Testament history, you’ll recall there was a period in which Jerusalem was a vassal state of Babylon. In 597 BC, the Babylonians took large numbers of leaders from Jerusalem, along with skilled craftsman, into exile to Babylon. It was an attempt by this world power to keep Jerusalem in line by making connections between the two nations. But the Hebrews kept revolting against Babylon and in 586 BC the city was destroyed, the temple burned and those who survived the slaughter were either led into exile in Babylon or fled to Egypt.
This passage takes the form of a letter Jeremiah writes to those already in exile in Babylon. It was written sometime between 597 and 586 BC, between the first great exile and the last.[1] At this time, in Jerusalem, there is a lot of nationalist talk. The people are sure God will protect his temple and nothing serious would happen to them.[2] Unlike Jeremiah, I’m sure others wrote subversive letters to those in exile, encouraging them to do what they could to destroy Babylon’s ability to make war.[3] But that’s not Jeremiah’s message. Instead, he tells those in exile to make the best of the situation. That if Babylon prospers, so will they. That’s not what people want to hear. Many think Jeremiah is a traitor, that he’s aiding the enemy.
You know, like those in Babylon, we’re now living in a time of exile. Things that we took for granted back in February and early March have been snatched away. We want Good News, we want to know when this nightmare is going to end. But is that the right question to be asking? Maybe we should be listening to the advice of Jeremiah and make the best of the situation in which we find ourselves?
I was reading a blog post this week in which the author, the president of the Barna Group, a religious think tank that also does polling, wrote about ways the pandemic is negatively impacting people. Barna’s polling had shown that relationships in America were in trouble before the pandemic. After five months of living in lock-down, it’s worse and creating a mental health crisis. Loneliness is a problem, not just for older people who live alone. Surprisingly, its worse for those younger. Two out of three millennials say they are lonely at least once a week. Relationships are straining under the pressure we’re facing, and addictions are growing.[4]
At a time like this, we want to hear that the pandemic will soon be over, that things will be returning to normal, or that it’s really not as bad as we’re making it out to be.[5] And there are those who tout such messages, but are they any different than the prophets of Jeremiah’s day who suggested things are going to be okay? Time will tell, but the message of Jeremiah still applies. We are to make the best out of our present situation. Time goes on. We can’t stop making a life for ourselves which Jeremiah describes as building houses, planting gardens, marrying off children, starting families, and working for the wellbeing of the city in which they live. In other words, while we take care of their own needs, we’re also to help care for others, even those who believe differently than us.
This all leads up to the 11th verse, which is a favorite of many people. “For surely I know the plans I have for you, says the Lord, plans for your welfare and not harm, to give you a future with hope.” Many people will copy this verse in cards sent to grandchildren and I’ve even heard graduation speeches built around these words which assure us that God wants what is best for us. God promises his children a hopeful future.
As comforting as this verse sounds, we must place it in context. In verse 10, just words before these, those in exile are reminded that they are going to be there for some time… 70 years! That must have hit like a bombshell. Those in exile are sad and missing their families and their community and the temple, the symbol of their God. They want to go home. In this sadness, Jeremiah encourages them to seek the welfare of the city in which they will find themselves, a place that they hate. It’s good advice, but in some ways it’s tough love.
As I’ve said, the purpose behind this exile, for the Babylonians, was to take enough of the leadership, including many of the young promising leaders like Ezekiel and Daniel, to ensure that Judah wouldn’t revolt. In a way, although they did not know it at this point in time, those who were first taken away had it easier than those who stayed behind. Those still in Jerusalem experienced the hunger and the horror of the destruction of Jerusalem a decade later.
This was not a good time in Israel’s history and in a way it’s not a good time in our history. As a nation, Israel was being torn apart and the same can be said to be happening to us. Back then, people were afraid. Today, we’re afraid. Back then, famine, suffering, more death and more destruction were on the horizon. We don’t know what’s on the horizon, but the dying from COVID is not over and our society seems to be splintering into factions. But as people of faith, we are to have a positive outlook for we know that God is in control and while God’s timing often doesn’t correlate with our desires, God does work things out.
Faulkner, the southern writer from Mississippi, once said that while it’s hard to believe, “disaster seems to be good for people.” When entering a period of exile, like we’re in, much of what is superfluous is stripped away and we learn what really matters. What matters is that we seek God and trust in God’s promises.[6]
Consider this passage. Even as darkness was descending on Israel, God speaking through Jeremiah offers a word of hope. To know that even though things are bad, God has our back and in the long-run our best interest at heart can help us endure great challenges. The people of Israel had to learn over and over again to be patient. We need to remember that and trust God.
Yes, we are in trying times. But this is not the first time God’s people have faced challenges. The good news is that when we endure and remain faithful, our faith is strengthened. As Paul captures so elegantly in the fifth chapter of Romans:
We boast in our suffering, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not disappoint us because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit that has been given to us.[7]
May our lives be filled with love and hope despite what we experience in life. Amen.
©2020
[1] J. A. Thompson makes the case that this letter was written around 594, after some of the exiles created disturbance in Babylon that lead to at least the execution of two exile members of the Hebrew community there. See J. A. Thompson, The Book of Jeremiah (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1980), 544.
[2] The Prophet Ezekiel, who was a part of the early exiles, had a vision in Babylon of God leaving the temple which helped prepare those there for the temple’s destruction. See Ezekiel 10.
[3] A hint of this can be seen in the rest of this chapter which concerns a letter from Shemaiah in Babylon telling the high priest in Jerusalem to silence Jeremiah. Jeremiah’s prophecy is not what they want to hear. See Jeremiah 29:24-32.
[4] See https://careynieuwhof.com/new-trends-4-ways-the-pandemic-is-negatively-impacting-people/
[5] An example from the past: In the 1918-19 influenza pandemic, many kept saying “it’s only influenza” while more people died (in sheer numbers, not in percentage of population) from the illness at any other time in history. See John M. Barry, The Great Influenza: The Story of the Deadliest Pandemic in History (2004, Penguin Books, New York, 2018).
[6] Eugene Peterson, Run with the Horses: The Quest for Life at its Best (Dowers Grove, IL: IVP, 1983), 156. Peterson’s Faulkner quote comes from Lion in the Garden, Interviews edited by James B. Merriweather and Michael Millgate (NY: Random House, 1968), 108.
[7] Romans 5:3-5.
Grand Cru approaching the mark just ahead of us
The finish was exciting. An offshore breeze was blowing steadily toward the land and many of the boats still in the race were all convening on the R2W buoy two miles off Wassaw Island at the same time. There was only one boat left in our class, Todd’s Grand Cru. While we had opted to stay further offshore in the hope of finding wind, Todd and crew hugged the shore. So, the end of the race had us approaching the mark on a reach, while Todd, who had to tack back toward the mark, was close-hauled, a sail position that gave him more speed. However, he also had more distance to cover. We’d thought we were easily going to make the mark first, but as we both moved closer to the mark, we could tell that Todd was really moving. We checked the sail trim and did everything possible to increase speed, but they beat us, rounding the mark a couple boat lengths ahead. But it didn’t matter. We still won when they factored in the boat’s handicap. Grand Cru is a 33-foot boat and has a much higher handicap than our 24 foot boat. He’d have to finished 20 minutes before us to have won the race.
We crossed the mark at 6:02 PM. It had been a long day and we still had seven miles to go to reach the marina. That was where the final mark was supposed to be but since there had been so little wind and race rules stated that everyone had to finish by 7 PM, which would have meant that no one would have finished, the shortened the race late in the afternoon. The race committee had even headed end, leaving each boat with the instructions to cross the buoy to starboard, turn north and when you pass the buoy, to call in the time. Most of the spinnaker boats (we sailed in the non-spinnaker class) still in the race finished around the same time. None of the cruising class boats finished the race, all having opted to abort earlier in the afternoon.
Steve setting a course with Doug P at the helm as we sail to Hilton Head
Our race weekend started on Friday, when Doug P., Steve and I took our boat, Bonnie Blue, out to sea and up to Hilton Head’s Harbour Town. We left Landings Harbor Marina at 9:45 AM. The forecast called for light wind and we were thinking we might have to motor most of the way up, but as we got the boat out of the marina, the winds picked up and we were able to sail on a reach (wind coming off the beam or 90 degrees to the boat’s direction), without ever changing tack, all the way out of the Wilmington River and Wassaw Sound. Once we were in the ocean, the winds continue from behind, allowing us to run wing-to-wing (the mainsail and the jib on opposite sides of the boat to catch the wind from behind) all the way north, pass Little Tybee and Tybee Island while sailing down waves that were moving favorably in our direction. Once we crossed the shipping channel to the Savannah Ports, we turned inland toward Daufuskie Island (the setting for Pat Conroy’s memoir, The Water is Wide), sailing across Calibouge Sound until we picked up the channel markers that led us behind Hilton Head Island. The wind died about the time we made it behind Hilton Head and, for the first time since motoring out of the harbor, we engaged the motor and found our slip at the Harbour Town marina. On Hilton Head, the fourth member of our team, Doug B, who’d been spending a few days with his family on Hilton Head, met us and drove us back to Skidaway.
Leaving Harbour Town
Saturday morning began early as we all gathered before daybreak to drive back up to Hilton Head. The sun was rising as we crossed over the Savannah River bridge. By 8:30 AM, we had the boat ready and motored out to the start line between Daufaskie and Hilton Head. The first class, the cruisers, were to begin at 10 AM. By then, all boats were in the area and they began the countdown sequence. The tide was running in, strong, and what winds there were came from behind, make it a downwind start (you generally start upwind, as you can make faster speeds).
Cruiser class approaching the mark
At four minutes before the starts, all the boat were required to kill their motors. They did, then then wind died, and the cruisers (there were only three) were pulled further and further from the starting line. A minute before the start, they cancelled and waited a few minutes before going again into the six-minute sequence. The same thing happened. The race chairperson then suggested that the boats motor to out beyond the starting line and let the tied pull them back inside it before the start. On the third attempt, they had a start. As the cruising boats tend to be slower, they were given ten minutes or so headway before they began the second flight, those of us not racing with spinnakers.
Thankfully, our start went off without a hitch and by 10:45 AM, we were racing, but without a lot of speed. We tried everything, from going wing-on-wing to tacking and running on a reach. It was slow going, but within a few hundred yards of the start line we had passed the cruising class boats. Soon, the spinnaker class boats started and we were all bobbing around in Calibogue Sound, waiting for a puff to move us a little closer to our destination. It seemed to take forever. We kept looking at the same houses on Daufuskie and the marks in the Savannah River were so far ahead. We watched several container ships make their way out of the harbor and then others make their way into the harbor. Thankfully, without wind, the sky remained gray, reducing the sun and the heat.
a distant ship leaving Savannah
Around noon, we had a short burst of air that allowed us to make our way out of the sound and point eastward, toward the G5 buoy at Tybee Roads. We weren’t making great time, but at least we were moving, which continued until we made the turn south, toward Wassaw Sound. Then the wind died again. It seemed to take forever for us to cross the shipping channel. We had seen many ships in the morning, but thankfully while we were bobbing around in the channel, there were none. Finally, we reached the port side marks, putting us safely out of the channel and began to make our way south. Doug B pulled out his fancy binoculars, which allowed us to see well ships that were coming into port, but not strong enough to make out those bathing on Tybee, some two miles to the east. For what seemed to be days, but was only four hours or so, we keep the Tybee Lighthouse directly off our beam. Occasionally, they’d be a puff and we’d make some forward progress (to where the slough that runs between Tybee Island and Little Tybee was parallel to beam), dropping the lighthouse toward our stern. Then the wind would die and we’d drift back. Pretty soon the lighthouse would be off our beam. We talked about all kinds of things, but the only thing I remember being said was by Steve when he announced: “It’s a flat as a millpond out here.”
Waiting on wind (Steve holds boom out to catch every bit of wind while I do the same on the pole on the genoa, Doug B looking at sail shapes while Doug P either is looking at his sail app on his phone or is praying…
The chatter on the radio was slim. Occasionally a boat would announce they were giving up the race. Then, around four, there was some discussion over moving the end of the race to the R2W buoy. Since not everyone was within radio contact, such instructions had to be relayed to those behind us. Then, as it got closer to five, the wind slowly began to build. Tybee lighthouse dropped off our stern and we began to pass Little Tybee. The wind picked up and slowly the miles to the buoy began to drop (which we could measure thanks to navigation apps). By five, the wind filled in and we were quickly making out way toward the mark, which could first be seen as just a dot in the distance and slowly became more visible as we saw Todd’s boat coming toward us off starboard. After a day of bobbing, we finally felt like we were racing.
Heading home (Wassaw to port)
After making the mark, the wind continued as we made our way toward Wassaw Sound. By now, the tide had turned and was coming in, giving us an extra boost. Once we cross the north end of Wassaw, the wind died again. No longer racing, we started our motor and began to putt in, supported by the tide. The inland waters were like a mirror and while we putted, we flaked the mainsail on the boom and secured it with the sail cover. Then we rolled and bagged the geona (foresail or jib) and stowed it away. We got the boat ready so that we when we arrived at the marina, we could tie it up and leave. It was a bit after 8, when we came into the marina. We tied up and found that the party which had been planned in the grassy area by the marina, but had broken up, had left us some snacks and beers. I enjoyed a bag of chips and a beer. It was dark when I arrived at the marina that morning to carpool to Hilton Head and it was dark when I left the marina to head home.
Next Weekend with more wind (that’s me on the helm with Tito)
This was the first race since the St. Paddy’s Day race on March 14! While I’ve been sailing, all the other races and regattas had been cancelled due to Covid. The next Saturday was the Wassaw Cup, in which our crew wasn’t able to sail, so I sailed on another boat, with high winds, we were blown away. There’s one more race, at the end of the month, before I move to the mountains.
Boats gathering at the start of the Wassaw Cup
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
September 6, 2020
Matthew 18:15-20
Also, it seems I wasn’t the only one to come down hard on gossip this week. Even the Pope joined the chorus in his Sunday address. Click here for the AP article.
At the Beginning of Worship:
Technology has brought a lot of changes to our world, good and bad. On the positive side, it allows us to continue holding worship services during a pandemic, something that wasn’t available during the 1918 pandemic. But it also means everything is now more public, out in the open. Even things we might have hoped to do privately gets posted across social media for the world to see.
The downside of technology includes social media being filled with folks ready to attack anyone who might not agree with them. We’ve always had such people, but they used to easy to avoid. It’s amazing how people will attack others publicly, be it their food choices, their politics, or their use of grammar. Those who engaged in this manner think they’re doing something righteous when they blast an opponent. They think they look good and have power.
But is this how a Christian should act? Not according to the Scripture text we’re examining today. In fact, even when someone else is in the wrong, we need to go the extra mile to protect their identity, to show love, and to act with humility.
After the Scripture:
I always admire those folks who can take bucket of rust and, with hard work, restore the car to where it looks like it just rolled off the assembly lane. It takes time, patience, expertise, and a willingness to get one’s hands dirty. But what beauty can come out of such efforts.
Today’s sermon is about restoration. Not of cars, but of people. As Christians, we are not only to be about making ourselves betters, but also others.
Our passage from the 18th Chapter of Matthew speaks of correcting the sins of our brothers and sisters in the faith. Let me warn you, this is an easy passage to abuse. If we’re to be correcting sin, we need to first remember we’re all sinners. Second, we are dishonest if we only correct those sins we find most grievous or only the sins committed by those we dislike, while ignoring the sins of those we like. Remember, Jesus said something about us getting the log out our eyes before removing a speck from someone else’s.[1]
Pointing out the sins of others is something few of us want to do. That’s probably good. In the book The Peacemaker, which is mostly based on this passage, Ken Sande suggests those eager to go out and correct others are probably not the ones needing to perform such tasks.[2] The person who sets out to correct another needs to be humble and desiring both to restore the other person back into a relationship with Christ as well as to keep the publicity down. We’re not to try to make ourselves look better while making others look bad. That’s not Christ-like.
Like restoring an automobile, restoring relationships is hard work. It requires wisdom, love, gratitude, and humility. Without such gifts, one is liable to make a mess of things, just as having the wrong tools could ruin a car’s restoration. Without humility, we can make a mess of a relationship.
Now look at this passage. It starts with a difficult verse. Verse 15 is generally translated “if your brother sins against you…” The New Revised Standard Version translates it more to the intent of the original when it says if “another member of the church sins against you.” Matthew uses the word brother to imply all who are a part of the Christian fellowship, not just siblings or just men. The question that arises is whether we have the right to go correct others in sin.
If you take this passage as translated, the text implies that you go talk only to those who sin against you. Yet, almost all translations will have a footnote here, informing us that many of the older text omit the “against you.”[3] In such cases, it sounds as if we have a license to go correcting anyone who is in violation of God’s law. Since we’re all sinful at one point or another, the field is ripe for a harvest.
I’m going to do something maybe a little unorthodox and take both positions. If your brother or sister in the faith does something wrong against you, you are supposed to go to him or her. In other words, the harmed or the innocence party is supposed to make the effort to reconcile. Image that! My tendency, and this is probably true for most of us, is to avoid people who harm me, but that’s not what we’re being told here. And the object of the visit is not to beat up the offending party, but to restore them. We can also look at this verse from the angle of church discipline. Taking this verse to read: “If your brother does something wrong, go and have it out with him alone,” as the New Jerusalem Bible translates it, we’re told to confront those whose sins are so bad that they are harming the church of giving God a black eye.
Regardless of whether you think this passage applies only to sins committed personally against you as an individual or to sins in general, we’re not given a license to become intolerant moral police officers. Look at the context of this teaching. Right before here, in verses 10-14, Jesus gives the Parable of the Lost Sheep. The focus there, as in this passage, isn’t confrontation. It’s reconciliation, bringing the lost back into the fold. Then he follows this passage with the Parable of the Unforgiving Servant. Remember that passage is about judgment upon those who act harshly and are judgmental toward others. Having these two passages as bookends reminds us that Jesus is primarily interested in restoration of the sinner and that if we’re involved in bringing about such restoration, we’re to be humble and gracious.
We need to ask ourselves if the offense is great enough to risk ruining a relationship. Sometimes, having a little thicker skin will do wonders and further the peace.
If, however, the situation requires action, we’re to go to the other person and confront them face to face; we’re not to be talking about it to others, starting up the gossip mill. Today, thanks to social media, starting a rumor is easier than ever. But before we announce to the world the wrong someone has done, we’re to go talk to them. We’re to listen to what they say, for they may have a different interpretation or understanding.
Listening is important. We might have missed understood. Furthermore, if Jesus were teaching today, I think he’d insist that we listen and gather the facts before we march off into a crusade. As for social media, he would probably suggest that before we share something online, we make sure what we say is supported by facts and are not just emotional responses that demonstrate our own confirmation bias.[4]
After having confronted the person face to face, if they are not willing to work things out or if they are going to continue sinful activities, we’re still not to start gossiping. We’re to maintain confidentiality as we attempt to come to an understanding with two or three others, who are trusted and will also keep confidentiality. In Sande’s book, he recommends that if we’re in a conflict with someone else, we tell them at the end of that first meeting that we’re going to seek the council of others—for if they know they’re in the wrong they may be willing to go ahead and work things out with us.
These two or three witnesses serve two functions. First, they are observers. Judgment in Scripture always required two witnesses.[5] In this case, they are there to make sure that things are fair. They might listen and think we’re the one that is in the wrong and, in that case, we have to be willing to accept their advice.
After this second visit, if we still don’t resolve the problem, then we can take our complaint back to the church. In keeping with the process, this doesn’t mean that we stand up during joys and concerns and broadcast the complaint to everyone. Instead, we take it to the leadership, to those in charge, and let them be the judge. Only after this intervention fails, does the church have a right to exclude the offending party from the community of faith. Matthew says that then they’ll be like “pagans and tax collectors.”
What are our responsible toward correcting a member of the community who sins, remembering that we all sin? This was debated heatedly during the Reformation. John Calvin, one of the founders of our branch of Christendom, supported Church discipline for three reasons.[6] First, was to honor God. The church should act against those who are in open revolt against God. But Calvin did not suggest we start inquisitions. He never argued for a “pure church” because he believed that was impossible. Church discipline was taken only against those who openly refused to stop and repent of their blasphemous activities. The second aim was to keep the good within the church from being corrupted, and the third aim was to bring the guilty party into repentance.[7] Discipline was always carried out in hopes of restoring the contrite into the fellowship of the church. In other words, discipline was done pastorally out of concern for the accused soul.
When we take these verses out of their setting, they sound harsh. After all, Christ gives those of us in the community the power to banish someone from our midst.[8] He even tells us that decisions we make here have eternal ramifications. But our purpose isn’t to be the enforcer; instead our goal is to restore the sinner. And if we’re going to be convincing, we got to remember that we’re all sinners, which means we better be humble in any endeavor we undertake.[9] We don’t try to correct others as a way to prove our rightness, but out of love and concern. Like restoring a car, it’s hard work. Amen.
©2020
[1] Matthew 7:5.
[2] Ken Sande, The Peacemaker: A Biblical Guide to Resolving Personal Conflict (Grand Rapids: Baker Books, 2004).
[3] There is debate over the inclusion of this phrase. See Bruce Metzger, A Textual Commentary on the Greek New Testament (United Bible Society, 1985), 45 and Douglas R. A. Hare, Matthew: Interpretation (Louisville: John Knox Press, 1992), 213. Robert Gundry argues for its inclusion in Matthew: A Commentary on his Literary and Theological Art (Grand Rapids: Eerdman, 1982), 367; while Frederick Dale Bruner omits the phrase. See The Churchbook: Matthew 13-28 (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2004), 225.
[4] Confirmation bias is agreeing with something because it “fits” our world view without verification. In other words, we decide something is right because it fits our existing beliefs.
[5] Deuteronomy 19:15.
[6] Although Calvin supported and participated in church discipline, unlike some Reformers such as John Knox, Calvin did not see discipline as one of the marks of a “true church.” To him the marks of a true church was the proclamation of the gospel and the rightful administration of the sacraments. For a discussion of Calvin and discipline, see Charles Partee, The Theology of John Calvin (Louisville: W/JKP, 2008), 270-271.
[7] The three purposes of discipline of John Calvin are in his Institutes of the Christian Religion, IV.12.5..
[8] While this is seen in this passage (Matthew 18:18), it also appears in Matthew 16:19.
[9] Heimlich Bullinger, another reformer and author of the Second Helvetic Confession tempers his talk on discipline with a reminder that Jesus said not to pull the weeds up because you risk pulling up the wheat. See Presbyterian Church (USA), Book of Confession. 5:165.
Jesse Cole, Find Your Yellow Tux: How to be Successful by Standing Out (Lioncrest Publishing, 2018), 303 pages, some photos.
The Back Story: One of the most amazing things I’ve seen while living in the Savannah area is the development of a summer league baseball team for college players, the Savannah Bananas. Before the Bananas arrived, there had been a Single-A minor league team, the Savannah Sand Gnats. I went to one of their games the first full summer I was here with my staff. We pretty much had a whole section of the stands to ourselves. It is hard to think that I cheered for any Sand Gnat. As is often said around here, that nasty bug and the humidity are what keeps house prices affordable along the Georgia Coast. The Sand Gnats tried to get the city to build them a new stadium (Grayson Stadium is old but classic—even Babe Ruth played there). Failing to blackmail the community into a new stadium, they moved to Columbia, South Carolina, but sadly left the gnats behind. It wasn’t looking good for baseball in Savannah until this young man from Gastonia, NC comes along with some crazy ideas. He creates a ball team of college players and tops it all off with entertainment and fifteen buck tickets that include all you can eat burgers and hotdogs. It’s a great deal and fun. The first summer, about forty people from our church attended a game. I took a photo of a dude wearing a yellow tux and posted it to Facebook, asking what would happen if I wore a yellow tux in the pulpit. One of my elders responded (jokingly, I think) that they might have to establish a new Pastor Nominating Committee. I still think it would have been a fun idea.
Jesse Cole at a ballgame in 2016
My review: The dude I saw in at that baseball game back in 2016 was the author of this book in which he lays out his ideas about business and life. It’s all about having fun and doing what you can to stand out in the world. Cole’s idea is to do crazy things to draw attention and to build a fan following. It works. While the Sand Gnats never sold out, the Savannah Bananas sold out the stadium their first three years. This book is part business manual and part memoir. We learn about Cole’s life, which is almost like a novel (I know of several novels where someone hoped to play professional ball and throws their arm out in college). Cole finds a way to stay with the game, first in Gastonia, N.C. and now in Savannah. The book draws on many others who gave Cole inspiration: Walt Disney, P. T. Barnum, Mike Veeck, Richard Branson, the movie “Jerry Maguire” among others. Cole is not only an avid reader; he is able to put what he learns into action. He also encourages those who work with him to read and to produce ideas. Some of his ideas are a new spin on an old idea. Cole uses an old fashion “idea box.” But what he does with those ideas are unique. “Brainstorming” is called Ideapaloozas. Cole points out the lack of excitement with “professionalism” and encourages everyone to be crazy, doing the opposite of normal. He insists that their only focus is on their fans. While Cole never mentions investments, his idea of doing the opposite of what everyone else is doing sounds like the contrarian investment strategy (See Dreman, Contrarian Investment Strategies). His goal is to be successful while having fun and putting his fans first (Fans First Entertainment is the name of Cole’s business).
When I started reading this book, I thought it should be read by everyone in leadership at Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church. By the time I was done with it, I thought it should be read by everyone. I recommend you read it and start having fun while you find success by helping others.
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
August 30, 2020
Matthew 16:21-26
Click here to watch the service. The sermon begins at 18 minutes if you want to fast-forward.
Beginning of Worship: I saw a meme the other day. A man at a bar ordered a Corona and two hurricanes. “That’d be 20.20,” the bartender said. It’s not been a good year so far. It seems like we’ve all been carrying a cross over the past eight months. But is this what Jesus means when he says we are to pick up our cross and follow him?
The cross is a symbol we see everywhere. We have several in our sanctuary. We wear it as jewelry. It populates cemeteries and are often placed beside the road where there has been a fatal accident. But what does it means when Jesus tells us to pick up the cross? That’s today’s topic.
This is our second Sunday in the 16th Chapter of Matthew. If you remember, last week, Peter nails it. He confesses Jesus to be the Messiah. Today, he doesn’t look so good. He can’t accept Jesus’ plan involving the cross. Last week, Peter was praised. This week, he’s called Satan. There’s good news here because our lives are similar. We can do good and great things and we can do rotten things. Aren’t you glad there’s grace?
Jesus does something radical and he invites us to follow him, but it’s a costly invitation. Jesus demands our very lives. For those of us who follow Jesus, the cross becomes our sign of God’s power as Paul eloquently states in First Corinthians, but to others it’s foolishness.[1] But as a sign, the cross is not easily understood.
###
After the Scripture Reading: What does it mean to pick up our cross and follow Jesus? Maybe a better way to ask this question is what does it mean to be a follower of Jesus Christ? We have to be careful that we don’t cheapen the bearing of our cross in an attempt to explain our trials. Carrying the cross isn’t just enduring a bad time, like 2020. Picking up our cross and following Christ has life changing implications. We admit we’re not in control. It’s no longer about us and what we want and what we think we need. Instead, it’s all about the man up ahead, the one we are following.
Think about the theology of the cross in light of two seeming contradictions in scripture: Jesus’ call for us to pick up our cross and proclaims that he’s come to set us free.[2]
In Jesus’ day, no one thought of the cross as a sign of freedom. In fact, a cross was viewed in just the opposite. It was a sign of torture, a reminder of the imperial power of Rome that subjected a huge portion of the population to slavery. In Rome, if a slave rebelled, the cross was the normal method of execution. The cross was a tool the Romans used to cement their control. When Jesus tells the disciples to pick up their cross and follow, they may have had second thoughts.
This particular passage is recounted in all three of the synoptic gospels—which tells us something about the impression it made on the disciples.[3] Yes, we know Peter doesn’t like the idea of Jesus dying, but that was all before Jesus issues this command. None of the gospels give us an idea of how the disciples and the crowd responded to Jesus’ call at this point. Such an omission is a part of the plan, I believe, for it allows us to respond to Jesus’ call in our own ways. This morning, we’re wrestling with what it means to pick up our cross. First, I am going to discuss some mistaken ways this call is interpreted: I’ll label these three as triumphant militarism, naive pacifism, and sentimentalism. Then I will offer ideas on how we are to be a servant of Jesus Christ and faithfully answer his call.
Peter’s idea of picking up the cross falls into my triumphant militaristic category. Remember, he’s the disciple who, at Jesus’ arrest, pulls out a sword and slashes the ear off of one of the men.[4] I imagine Peter, a fisherman whose muscles were well defined from working the nets, as a strong man. At this stage of his Christian walk, he’s a Rambo type character, ready to pull up the cross and use it as a club to pound his foes. Peter and the other disciples are ready for Jesus to set up a worldly kingdom. Peter wants Jesus to be King so he can be an advisor, right next to Jesus’ throne, the second in command.
When Jesus started talking about this suffering stuff, Peter gets nervous and decides he’d better try to steer his leader in a different direction. “Hey Jesus,” Peter remarks, “let’s rethink this part about dying.” But Jesus’ way wins out. The cross is not to be used by us as a weapon, nor does it give us any protection other than being a symbol of what Jesus has done for us.
If triumphant militarism is one extreme rejected by Jesus, so is the other extreme, which I label naive pacifism. I chose the term naive because pacifism for many Christians is an appropriate response. But when the path is naively chosen, we forget that we’re called to resist evil, to deny evil power in the world and instead we become a sacrificial pawn. Just as we should not use the cross as a weapon, it’s not to be used as a white flag of surrender, either. Jesus picked up his cross and carried it to Calvary in order to offer his life for sins you and I have committed. Jesus died for our sins so that we don’t need to die for them, nor should we be expected to die for the sins of others. But this doesn’t mean there’s not work for us to do.
If we’re not to be militants or pacifists, we might be led to think the proper understanding—the middle way of understanding Jesus’ call—is sentimentalism. Sadly, this is the way many people look at the cross. We clean up its horrific image and use it as jewelry and decor on our cars. But such an understanding of the cross—if it goes no deeper—misses the point. It can even become a political statement or a superstition, which is idolatry. If the cross is only seen for its sentimental value—we’ve cheapened Jesus’ call.
I don’t know if I can give an understanding of what picking up one’s cross should mean to us all. Certainly, I think it means more than having a piece of jewelry. For a few people, it may mean martyrdom—as it did for many of the disciples. But Jesus certainly didn’t expect all his followers to be crucified. Secondly, martyrdom is not the highest virtue. Instead of martyr, the virtue we strive for is faithfulness. Yet, we learn from Jesus, if we love our life we will lose it. Paul expands this thought when he speaks of our need to put to death the desires of the flesh and to live for Christ.[5]
By calling us to pick up our cross, Christ informs us that we’re not in charge of our Christian journey. We must be willing to follow him. Our calling isn’t about our needs or our desires, but about Jesus’ desire for us and for our lives. As Christians, we all have a calling that is linked to our vocations. Since we live our Christian life throughout the week, and we all have different occupations and trades, we each have to determine how we can best be true to our Savior. I can’t give a single definition of what picking up our cross will mean for everyone, just as Matthew didn’t tell us of the disciples response to this call.
As a seminary student, when I was a camp director in Idaho, we had each of the campers carry a live-size cross during a hike. Afterwards, around a campfire, we debriefed. Some told how difficult it was to physically carry the cross—toting the awkward beams and of the splinters. Others spoke about how they were uncomfortable to be out front of the rest of the campers, with everyone following and looking at them. Others had even more difficulty watching their fellow campers struggle. These wanted to show compassion by taking the burden of their friends.
These responses from the campers provide an insight into what the cross means and maybe an idea of how we pick up our crosses. When Jesus took up his cross, he was taking on the burdens of the world. He didn’t take the cross on his own behalf, but on our behalf. It wasn’t someone who lived a comfortable life that brought salvation to the world; it was someone who shared in the suffering of the whole world. We must understand that Jesus’ death on the cross is sufficient for our sins and the sins of the world.[6]
The penalty for sin—death—has been paid in full and none of us is being called to make another deposit—we’re not being called to save the world.[7] By picking up the cross, Jesus shows his willingness to share in our pains and sorrows. And he calls us, his disciples, to share in the pain of others. The campers who expressed compassion for the one carrying the cross understood, at least partly, what is means to be indebted to someone for taking on our burdens and for us to be ready to have compassion for others who are in pain. One meaning of picking up our cross is for us to be willing to stand beside others in need—whatever form that need might take. Jesus takes our burdens, he shoulders our cross, and the only way we can have a glimpse of what he feels is to feel the pain and burdens of others. So maybe our crosses have to do with how we show compassion.
I think our vicariously sharing in the pain of others also helps us to understand the proverb Jesus cites at the end of our passage. Jesus reminds us that whoever wants to save their lives will lose them and whoever loses their lives for his sake will find them. This is one of those great reversal statements of Jesus, but notice Jesus doesn’t call us to lose our lives in the lives of others. Rather, he calls us to place himself first in our lives—to put our total trust in him. Our call to discipleship is not to place some other than Jesus first (despite what politicians—many of whom have a messiah-complex, might hope for). Nor is our call to place ourselves first. It’s a call to follow Jesus and put our total trust in him. It means we must obey the first commandment: to have no god other than the one true God. It means to take seriously the great commandment: to love God—the God revealed in Jesus Christ—with all our hearts and souls and minds and strength.
If we are grounded in our love for God as revealed in Jesus Christ, we will be able to fearlessly pick up our crosses, whatever form it may take, when Jesus calls. This means following Jesus even if it means losing our friends or being alienated from our families. This means following Jesus even though we will be despised. And it means we must be willing to follow Jesus even if lose our lives. We follow Jesus, and only him. Jesus is all that matters. Amen.
©2020
[1] 1 Corinthians 1:18
[2] See John 8:32-36.
[3] Matthew 16”24-28, Mark 8:34-9:1 and Luke 9:23-27. In each of these gospels, this scene is followed by the Transfiguration. Only Mark has the previous story of Peter confessing Jesus to be the Messiah.
[4] John 18:10.
[5] Romans 8:13.
[6] See Hebrews 10:1-18.
[7] 1 Corinthians 15:56.
Things have been busy at my house as we are now showing it and trying to begin packing for our move to Virginia… But the busyness hasn’t kept me from sailing, as I crewed a boat up to Hilton Head on Friday and then on Saturday, we raced back to Skidaway (I’ll have to do a post on the long race with little wind, because we too first place in our class). I finished this book when in Virginia a few weeks ago.
Robert A. Caro, The Years of Lyndon Johnson: The Passage of Power (New York: Alfred Knopf, 2012), 712 pages including notes and sources and 32 inserted pages of black and white photos.
This is the fourth volume in Caro’s massive study on Lyndon Johnson, and the third I’ve read. In this book, Caro begins with the run up to the 1960 Democrat Convention. It was assumed that 1960 would be the year Johnson would run for the President. With his leadership in the Senate, Johnson was a powerful man. But he kept giving off mixed signals as to his intentions to run and once he stepped into the race, he bet that no candidate could achieve a majority of the votes during the first round at the convention. In that case, many would switch to Johnson and he could capture the nomination. Johnson was too late for Kennedy had wrapped up a majority of delegates. As Caro has done in the other volumes, he provides mini-biographies of key players in the story including both John and Robert Kennedy. After Kennedy was selected as the candidate, he chose Johnson as his Vice President candidate. Even this wasn’t without drama as there was a question whether or not Johnson would accept the position, as he’d be leaving the second most powerful position in the country with his leadership of the Senate. But Johnson, who wanted to be President since his childhood, accepts the position realizing he’s only a heartbeat away from the Oval Office. Caro, through extensive work, debunks the theory (that has been popularized by Robert Kennedy and his friends), that Kennedy’s invitation to Johnson was just a nice gesture and one that they assumed Johnson would decline. Robert Kennedy and LBJ would continue to have a running feud the rest of their lives. Caro makes a convincing case that without Johnson, who wasn’t as well liked in more liberal areas in the north, Kennedy would have never been able to win the presidency in 1960.
After the election, Johnson found himself sidelined. His feud with Robert Kennedy continued to grow. His advice on how to handle legislation in the Senate (something he understood) was ignored. As a result, Kennedy wasn’t able to achieve most of his agenda. Johnson, who was more hawkish, was even kept out of key meetings such as with the Cuban Missile Crisis. Compounding Johnson’s problems was the investigation into some of his supporters, especially Bobby Baker. This had the ability to cripple Johnson and perhaps even keep him off the ticket in 1964. Interestingly, Caro tells the story in a suspenseful manner as the hearings on Bobby Baker was running in Washington DC as the motorcade in which Kennedy was shot was driving through Dallas.
Upon the death of Kennedy, Johnson changed. He quickly assumed power. He knew what needed to be done to send the right signals to the rest of the world in to halt any mischief that the Soviets or the Cubans might stir up. Caro, who in previous volumes have been critical of Johnson and points out his flaws, has high praise of how he conducted himself through the end of 1963 and into 1964. Johnson was able to achieve Kennedy’s goal of a tax cut along with Civil Rights legislation. His handling of the segregationist Harry Byrd was masterful, as he presented a lean budget to win Byrd while working to keep him from blocking civil rights legislation. He was able to keep most of Kennedy’s staff and win their loyalty. While Johnson is often remembered for being mired down in Vietnam, Caro praises his ability to guide the country through this difficult time. He also put his own stamp on the Presidency by showing foreign leaders a good time at his ranch in Texas. In the spring of 1964, Johnson had the highest Presidential poll rating of any President.
Like Caro’s other books, The Passage of Power is a masterful volume that captures the complexity of the first President that I remember. I hope Caro will soon come out with his 5th volume, that looks at Johnson’s 1964 victory against Barry Goldwater and how his Presidency collapsed with the failures in Vietnam, leading up to his refusal to run for a second term in 1968. If you’re interested in history or in the complexity of powerful leaders, I recommend this book.
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
Matthew 16:13-20
August 23, 2020
Click here for the worship service. Advance to 15:30 to begin watching the scripture and the sermon.
At the Beginning of Worship
What does it take for us to be true to our calling as Christians? What are the most important activities that makes us a church? There are two, which are outlined in the second half of the 16th chapter of Matthew’s gospel: confessing Jesus as the Messiah and following Jesus, even to the cross. At times like this when society is semi-closed due to the pandemic, these two essentials remain. Are we still doing them? Today, is my first sermon from this part of Matthew 16, and we’ll look at the first requirement, confessing Jesus as the Messiah.
The Message (after reading Matthew 16:13-20)
After a long illness, a woman died and arrived at the Gates of Heaven. “How do I get in?” she asked.
“You have to spell a word”, Saint Peter told her.
“Which word?”
“Love.”
“L-O-V-E,” the woman spelled out and the gate swung open and she entered.
About three years later, Saint Peter needed a day off and asked the woman to watch the Gates of Heaven for him. Guarding the gate, she was shocked when her husband arrived. “How have you been,” she asked.
“Oh, I’ve been doing pretty well since you died,” he said. “I married the beautiful young nurse who took care of you while you were ill. And then I won the lottery. I sold the little house we lived in and bought a big mansion. My wife and I traveled all around the world. We were on vacation and I went water skiing today. I fell, the ski hit my head, and here I am. How do I get in?”
“You just have to spell a word”, she said.
“What’s the word?” he asked.
“Czechoslovakia.”
You may be wondering what this has to do with our text today. Well, there’s a weak link. You see, the idea of Peter being heaven’s gatekeeper comes from this passage, where he’s presented the keys and given the power to open doors. These jokes have been told for a long time. One source suggests that St. Peter at the gate jokes have been around since the 14th century and were originally used to tempt monks to break their vows of silence.[1] Although their context comes from our morning passage in Matthew, we have to realize that the jokes have little relevance into how one is admitted into heaven.
Let me tell another. A devout Presbyterian woman arrived at the Pearly Gate. Peter asked her why she should be admitted and she acknowledged that she really didn’t deserve being let into heaven, but that God was gracious and had ordained her for salvation in Jesus Christ. She staked her future on that promise. Peter nodded affirming. As the swung the gate open, the woman brought out a casserole. “Just in case grace wasn’t enough,” she said, offering it to Peter.” We like to hedge our bets, don’t we?
Now, let me assure you, getting into heaven isn’t what this passage is about. This passage is about who is Jesus. Jesus and the disciples have been together for sometime at this point. They’ve travelled together, teaching and healing and taking care of people and proclaiming the kingdom. Its only now, after they’ve extensively invested themselves into this man named Jesus, that he forces them to deal with his identity.
The setting for today’s passage is in the region of Caesarea Philippi. You are probably wondering what that has to do with anything. It’s important! This city was on Israel’s northwestern border. Before Jesus’ birth, Herod the Great built a magnificent marble temple there in honor of Caesar. His son, Philip, enlarged the city and renamed it Caesarea in honor of Caesar Augustus. But there were other Caesareas around, such as the one over on the coast. Philip, a politician, liked to see his name in print, so the city became known as Caesarea Philippi. It honored both Caesar and Philip.[2] This is the important part. It’s here, in this city devoted to the worship of the Emperor, that Jesus asks the disciple who they think he is. Deep down, there is a political statement being made here. If Caesar is Lord, then who is Jesus? Or vice versa. It’s interesting, that while Jesus took the disciples into pagan lands, from what we know, he never said anything derogatory about the paganism. We should learn from him. But by focusing on his identity and mission at a place where Caesar was worshipped as God on earth, Jesus challenges earthly powers.[3]
Jesus first asks the disciples what people are saying about him. “Oh, some people think you’re John the Baptist, raised from the grave, or Elijah, or Jeremiah, or one of the other prophets.” This first question was a teaser, for then Jesus goes to the heart of the matter. He asks a question we must all answer, “But who do you say that I am?”
Ultimately, it all comes down to this question, doesn’t it? I can see why people believed Jesus to be a prophet, for he had done great things. Most people like Jesus, even those who are outside the church. He’s known as a good and kind man who was a good teacher. I recently had someone tell me that she doesn’t consider herself a Christian anymore, but she loves Jesus. I wasn’t sure what to make of that. The book They Like Jesus But Not the Church, points out how most people in our country like Jesus and how the church is often a barrier from people getting to know Jesus better. That hurts, but some churches are so overzealous with a desire to save (which is the Spirit’s work, not ours), that all they do is to encourage people to accept Jesus when people don’t even know who they’re talking about. Jesus has invested a significant portion of his time with the disciples before he hits them with this question, “Who do you say that I am?” Likewise, we need to invest time discovering who Jesus is and talking to others about who he is before we try to encourage them to join up and become a follower of the Savior. We plant the seed, God brings about the harvest.
When Jesus asks the disciples who they say he is, Peter responds: “You are the Messiah, the Son of the Living God.” Peter nails it. This is no weak response. There are no qualifying phrases. He doesn’t say, I think you’re the Messiah,” or “You appear to be the Messiah.” Peter is direct and his confession is the foundation of the church. “Jesus is the Messiah!” Peter is staking out what he believes, even though as we will see next week, he doesn’t really understand the implications of what he has said. But that’s okay, for as Jesus informs us, Peter wasn’t speaking on his own; his confession is coming from God. Then Jesus called Peter the son of Jonah, which is an interesting and paradoxical reference. First, Peter caught fish, a big fish caught Jonah. In addition, Jonah isn’t exactly a model for he ran from God, just as Peter ran after Jesus’ arrest. Another and maybe a more important parallel is that Jonah was a prophet to Gentiles, and that’s the direction the church will take under Peter’s leadership.
Peter is important. Jesus says, “You are a rock and on this rock I will build MY church.” There has been plenty of controversy over this passage. The Roman Catholic Church sees it as the beginning of papal succession, that the rock refers to Peter as the pope. We Protestants question this idea. Yes, Peter plays an important role in the establishment of the church, but the church leadership throughout history isn’t from Peter as an individual, but is invested within the body of the church.[4]
More importantly than the rock concept is the emphasis that Jesus places on “my church.” It’s clear, the church doesn’t belong to Peter or to the disciples as a whole, nor does it belong to us. The church belongs to Jesus Christ. He’s the one who gives the church life and its power. Certainly, as a body we can do great things. We’ve even been given the keys to the kingdom![5] But our abilities aren’t due to who we are, but to whom we worship. Even death cannot stop the church, which is the meaning of the “gates of hell or Hades shall not prevail.” In Jesus’ day, Hades was a place for the dead, but death has no power which Jesus will demonstrate with the resurrection. The church is to have one focus: Jesus Christ. It’s his name we lift up in praise, it’s his example we lift up as a model for our lives, it’s his power we rely upon when we don’t have the strength to do what we need to be doing. We depend upon Jesus.
While we are totally dependent on Jesus, we are still valuable and endowed with responsibility. The church is given great power, including the power to loosen or bind sins, or the power to forgive sins and to withhold forgiveness.[6] That’s an awesome power. We should accept it with humble reverence for Jesus doesn’t give it for us to use for our sake or to abuse for our benefit, but for us to use to help others become more Christ-like.
Our passage ends with Jesus telling the disciples to keep a secret about his identity. We may find this strange. Wouldn’t Jesus want everyone to know? Certainly, when we get to the end of Matthew’s gospel, Jesus sends out the disciples to all nations with the command to baptize and to make more disciples.[7] That commandment, known as the Great Commission, is for all believers. But here, before the resurrection, we must guess as to why Jesus wants the disciples to keep this secret. Perhaps it is because he knows that they do not yet fully understand the implications of Peter’s confession. Maybe Jesus is afraid they’ll mix in their own incorrect ideas and political opinions and muddle the message.[8] We don’t know for sure why Jesus wants them to be quiet at this point, but certainly, after the resurrection, Jesus is forceful in his command that we go out into the world and share his love.
Now it’s back to us? Who do we say Jesus is? Our first goal, as a follower of this man from Galilee, is to understand him. As I pointed out earlier, Jesus didn’t spring this question on the disciples the first day they were together. The disciples have spent a significant amount of time with him, maybe nearly three years at this point. To be able to answer that question, we must pick up this book (the Bible) and read about him. We must study the gospels. We must take our questions to him in prayer. And as we come to know him more fully, we need to begin to question our lives and see where we fail to live to his standard, and to be honest to Jesus in prayer as we repent. And finally, as we learn more about him, we need to share our knowledge with others, so that they too may know him.
You know, in this time with things slowed down because of the pandemic, now is a perfect time to work on your relationship with Jesus. Read one (or all) of the gospels. Write down for yourself your questions and who you think Jesus is and what he means to you. Having such a foundation will help you articulate your faith when it’s important. It’s a good investment in your eternal future. After all, what are you going to say to St. Peter at the Pearly Gates? Being prepared is better than bringing along a casserole. Amen.
©2020
[1] In searching for jokes, I came across this sermon which had the jokes I’ve used (I’ve altered them a bit) along with the suggestion as for the jokes origin: http://geoffreythebold.blogspot.com/2005/09/fabled-pearly-gates-joke.html
[2] John Kutsko, “Caesarea Philippi,” Anchor Bible Dictionary Vol. 1 A-C, David Noel Freedman, editor (New York: Doubleday, 1992), 803.
[3] To learn more about the political reference here and why Caesarea Philippi matters, she Scott Hoezee’s take on this passage: https://cep.calvinseminary.edu/sermon-starters/proper-16a-2/?type=the_lectionary_gospel
[4] Bruner, 127-130 and 135-137 and Douglas Hare, Matthew: Interpretation, a commentary for preaching and teaching (Louisville: John Knox Press, 1993), 191. Bruner, in an in-depth discussion on Peter’s role later in his commentary quotes another commentator who tries to bridge the “hyper-Catholic” and “hyper-Protestant views of Peter and summarizes him as “a man with a unique role in salvation-history… his faith is the mans by which God brings a new people into being.” Bruner, 137.
[5] Although in this passage, Jesus refers to Peter as the one with the keys and the ability to bind and loosen, later in Matthew’s gospel he speaks of all the disciples (and the church) being given this power. See Matthew 18:18.
[6] Historically, the words “loosen” and “bind” have been understood in two ways. Doctrinally, they refer to the ability to loosen (or open) through teaching the way of Jesus and their binding is a warning of the consequences of not hearing and abiding in the word. Secondly, these words have a disciplinary meaning. The church has the right to bind disobedient believers, and to loosen the bindings of those who are repentant. Bruner, 132.
[7] Matthew 28:19.
[8] Burner, 137-138, makes this point.
David Lee, Mine Tailings (Boulder, UT: Five Sisters Press, 2019), 79 pages.
David Lee was formerly the poet laurate of Utah and has been affectionally referred to as “the Pig Poet.” About the time I was leaving Utah, Lee retired as head of the English Department for Southern Utah University. Ever since I left Utah, I have hauled around a large collection of his poetry that came out in 1999, The Legacy of Shadows: Selected Poems. When rereading some of those poems recently, I decided to see if he was still publishing and learned about this volume. It appears that for part of the time, Lee hung out in Silver City, Nevada, a town on the south end of the Comstock Lode (I lived in Virginia City, on the north end of the lode, in 1988-89). Curious, I had the Book Lady Bookstore in Savannah find me a copy of the book for my pandemic reading.
Mine Tailings is divided into three sections: Silver City, the Shaft, and The Ore. In the very first poem of the book, “Silver City Dawn Poem,” Lee touched on many of my favorite memories of the Comstock: pinon fires, the wind, the morning sun, the sage, wild cats and rattlesnakes. As a reader proceeds further into this collection (and especially in the second section, appropriately named “The Shaft”), one comes upon many harsh poems that leaves little doubt as to what Lee thinks about President Trump. Some of the poems, like “On a Political Facebook Posting from a Former Colleague and Friend that Upset Jan,” are discombobulated and fragmented, similar to the President’s tweets. Lee often borrows snippets of Trump’s own words to turn around and challenge him through a poem. The last section of poems contains many poems that are what I considered typical David Lee poems. These contain narrative and dialogue, tell a story and are often quite humorous. One such poem is “Globe Mallow” which is about a flower that Lee and his wife stopped to photograph while driving through a Native American reservation. When a rubbernecking tourist stops and asks what he’s seeing, the man confuses Globe Mellow with marshmallow. The photographer plays along, creating a tall tale about these plants producing marshmallow fruit in the fall. The man drives off, telling his family what he’s learned. The reader is left to humorously image his disappointment when he drives back into the valley in the fall intent on poaching marshmallows from Indian land.
It was good to read some fresh poems from David Lee. I am still pondering the role of the quail (which you had in the Nevada desert, but at least when I was there not to the extent that they show up in Lee’s poems) in these poems. In a sense, the bird is a thread that flies through the various poems.
Gary Synder, Riprap and Cold Mountain Poems (Berkeley, CA: Counterpoint, 2009).
I have often heard of Gary Synder and have read a few individual poems and essays of his, but never a full collection. After reading Michael Cohen’s Granite and Grace, a book about Yosemite, I decided I needed to read more of his poetry. The Riprap poems were mostly written in the mid-1950s, about the time when Cohen first visited Yosemite and a year of so before my birth. Synder, as a young man, worked on trail building crews in the park. The title of these poems is appropriate as one often must riprap the side of the trail with rock to prevent erosion. These poems capture the places Synder worked, along with the people with whom he lived and worked. I enjoyed his descriptions of some familiar landscape. The second half of the book is his translations of a seventh century Japanese poet, Han-shan, writings. These poems were also interesting.
Nancy Bevilaqua, Gospel of the Throwaway Daughter: Poems (Kindle, 2004)
While drawing loosely on stories in the New Testament and other “non-canonical” writings of the first centuries of the Christian era and blending in the setting of the Biblical world, Bevilaqua has written a collection of poetry that area are alive with possibilities. These poems are steeped with a sense of place and often are linked to Mary Magdalene. One can feel the sunrise or the night sky, the parched earth under the midday sun, or the brilliance of stars at night, and the dusty feet from traveling along dirt paths. All these images draw the reader into this world. I appreciated Bevilaqua’s ability to make the reader feel they are present in the first century even though I found myself (against the author’s advice not to read these poems from a religious perspective) wondering about their theological significance. There are certainly poems in here drawn on events of Jesus’ passion. In some ways, these poems attempt to recreate a piece of a lost world, reminded me Alice Hoffman’s novel, The Dovekeepers. In telling the story of the end of the Jewish rebellion against Rome in the first century, Hoffman draws from the experience of four women at Masada. Bevilaqua even has one poem placed at the Battle of Taricheae, an earlier defeat of the Jewish army in their revolt against Rome. Both authors, a poet and a novelist, create a wonderful sense of place at a particular time in history and should be appreciated. I read this collection on my Kindle.
A sapphire dawn, and silver palms. Venus
near the earth
still charred and yet I smell a coming
storm. He is sleeping
on the roof. I am too much awake.
-the opening lines of “Dawn, Migdal”
JEFF GARRISON
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
Matthew 15:21-28
August 16, 2020
Last week, we heard about Jesus saving Peter from drowning after he attempted to walk on water. Afterwards, Jesus referred to Peter as one of little faith. Today, we have Jesus referring to a foreign woman’s great faith. What’s up with this? Let’s see… Read Matthew 15:21-28
###
Let’s go back in time to the First Century, to Tyre, a town on the Mediterranean, a port used by the Phoenicians. Like everything else in this part of the world, the town is now in Roman hands. But the roar of the waves crashing the shore are still the same. The taste of salt in the air is still the same. And on this day, as the heat begins to fade and an afternoon breeze from the ocean rolls in, the market opens. As we enter, our eyes catch the vision of a woman shopping. She has come early, before the crowds, her eyes red from crying, to gather food for her and her daughter. She doesn’t speak.
While examining slabs of bacon at the butcher’s shop, she listens in on the gossip. The butcher, a baker and a fisherman are chatting.
“Did you hear that Jesus, you know, the guy who fed 5,000 people with just a few loaves of bread and a few sardines, is in town?[1] A few more stunts like that and I’ll have to sell out,” the baker jokes.
“I might be with you,” the fisherman nods. “The method he uses to catch fish over on the Galilee will put little guys like me out of business.”[2]
The woman lingers, listening and wondering.
“Isn’t Jesus the guy who sent those demons into a herd of pigs causing them to run off the cliff?” the fisherman asks the butcher. [3]
“Yeah, it’s a shame, all that good pork washed out to sea. The price of ribs haven’t yet recovered! It seems the only trade he’s helped has been the roofers.”[4]
“Where’s he staying?” The baker asks.
The woman’s interest is raised, she leans over the counter to hear…
“He had a hard time finding a place after that incident in Capernaum where some people cut a hole in the roof of a house in order to get to him,” the butcher replies. “Finally, Mr. Jones rented his old place up on 2nd Street. I couldn’t believe he’d rent it to Jesus. I asked him about it, but old man Jones’ wasn’t too worried. He said the place needs a new roof and maybe, this way, insurance will cover it.
“I think that’s him coming now,” the baker says, pointing to a crowd gathering at the town’s gate.
Overhearing this gossip, the woman’s face lights up. “Jesus,” she says to herself. “I must meet Jesus.” She drops her shopping bag, kicks off her heels and runs, without stopping, toward the crowd. Pushing through the folks, she shouts as if she’s insane: “Have mercy on me, Lord, Son of David. My daughter is tormented by a demon.” She’s so loud that everyone else stops speaking as she approaches. Even Jesus appears lost for words. The disciples consider her crazy and urges Jesus to send her away. After all, she’s pagan and it would be of no surprise that a pagan’s kid is possessed by a demon. She, too, probably is possessed, they think.[5]
Jesus brushes the woman aside. Pointing to his disciples, he tells her he’s been sent to the lost sheep of Israel. She continues, frantically asking for Jesus’ help. She’s tried everything. Jesus is her last chance for her daughter to be made well. Then her heart sinks, her head drops in shame.
Think about how this woman feels? She’d give her eye teeth to have her daughter freed. When she hears that Jesus is in town, her hopes are raised, only to be crushed. Imagine the pain she felt at this rejection—Jesus being either too busy or too tired to tend to her child. She’s helpless.
Many of us have felt helpless when dealing with our children. It’s a fairly common among parents, because there are often things beyond our control. But it’s even more common among those who are marginalized. Think of immigrant families risking everything to get a child to America, a place of promise, or to get them out of a place like Syria where the violence is terrible. Or consider African American parents who must have “the talk” with their sons. Knowing that you are not being taken seriously because of your ethnic background is something most of us don’t know about, but there are many such people in the world. Such folks are modern day examples of this Canaanite woman—feeling there is no food at the table for them.
This passage, we all know, is not just about disappointments and bad news. God, through Jesus Christ, is doing something incredible. It actually starts at the beginning of the chapter where we learn that food laws aren’t all they’re cracked up to be. “It isn’t what you eat—what’s in your stomach—that defiles you,” Jesus says. “It’s what’s in your heart.” God’s creation is good. Since we are all created by God, there is a possibility for us to all claim a divine inheritance.
The woman, as are most Gentiles who live near Galilee, is used to being called a dog. Humanity has almost always treated “others” within contempt. It was common in 1st Century Palestine for the pious Jews to refer to the Gentiles as dogs. Yet, I still don’t know what to make of this passage. It disappoints me for Jesus to use such language. I’d prefer to have him say, “My dear child,” or something similar. Just don’t call her a dog, Jesus, but I suppose political correctness wasn’t in vogue during the first century.
But instead of getting hung up on this one word, let’s put this into context and see what Jesus is saying. By saying he has to fed the children before the dogs, we learn Jesus’ mission is first to the Israelites. He’s ministering and teaching to the Jews But knowing this doesn’t help the woman; it doesn’t solve her problem. Jesus is supposed to be a good man and she’s stung by his words.
With her head bowed, I image she begins to leave, then pauses. Has Jesus denied her request? Or maybe, when the disciples are fed, there’ll be something left over for her child. It takes a few moments to get up her courage, but when she does, she spins around like a ballerina, raises her head and looks Jesus in the eyes. “Sir,” she addresses, “even the dogs eat the crumbs from the master’s table.” This lady is bold. Jesus is now going to have to deal with her, one way or the other.
“Even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall for the master’s table,” what a great line.
“You’re right,” Jesus says. I imagine a big smile came over his face as he continued, with a voice loud enough to drive home the point home to the disciples, when he says, “Great is your faith. Your daughter will be healed.”
There is, after all, good news in this passage. The woman’s bloodline isn’t going to keep her from experiencing the healing powers of Christ. Even her religion isn’t a barrier. Notice that Jesus doesn’t say anything about casting the demon out because she was good or have kept the law or any other reason. Instead, Jesus acts freely and shows compassion to her and her child in the same manner he responds to our concerns brought to him in prayer. When there is something we, or someone we love, need, be bold in your prayers!
As I’ve said, this story comes right after Jesus has spent the first half of the chapter dealing with the religious elite of the day who complained that Jesus and his disciples were not keeping the tradition of the Elders. Jesus turned around this challenge, to emphasize that it’s not what we eat that defiles, but what comes out of our mouth and what’s in our heart. In other words, what we do is what’s important. To those leaders, this woman, by her racial status, is problematic and should avoided, but her insistence on the behalf of her daughter is a sign of faith. And Jesus responds to faith. In scripture, instead of talking about faith, Jesus mostly responds to it as he does in this situation.[6]
Which leads me to ask, what is faith? What do you think when you hear the word faith? It’s a word we use often, but do we really understand it? Do we have faith? The Second Helvetic Confession, written during the Reformation by Heinrich Bullinger, insists that faith is not an opinion or a human conviction, but is a “firm trust and a clear and steadfast assent of the mind, and then a most certain apprehension of the truth of God presented in the Scriptures,” the Apostle’s Creed, and God himself, and especially Jesus Christ, the fulfillment of God’s promises. And, the Confession goes on to say, “Faith is a gift of God.”[7]
Faith is knowing your only hope is in God, not in your own ability, which is what this Canaanite woman knew when she approached Jesus. She was unable to deliver her daughter, so she sought out the one who has such power. Faith is often described as a verb. It’s not just describing something, it’s about doing something. It’s placing trust in Jesus. Even though Jesus’ earthly ministry was to the Israelites, and the expansion of the gospel to the rest of the world would fall on his disciples, he was compelled to respond to the faith she demonstrated in him.
When we have no place else to turn, where do we place our trust? Is it with God as revealed in Jesus Christ? Or do we try to hedge our bets, hoping our own skills might save us, or perhaps our financial resources, our friends, our guns, or whatever else we place our trust. True faith trust only God as revealed in Jesus Christ. True faith is humbling because it acknowledges we can’t do it ourselves, that we’re dependent on the Almighty.[8] May we have such faith. May we be so bold as this woman in our prayers. At times like this, we need it! Amen.
©2020
[1] Matthew 14:13-21. This story also appears in other gospels.
[2] Luke 5:1-11. A similar story is told in John 21, but that is a post-resurrection appearance of Jesus.
[3] Mark 5:1-20.
[4] Mark 2:1-12.
[5] In his commentary on this passage, Scott Hoezee writes about how demon possession would play into the disciples stereotyping of the Canaanites. Scott Hoezee, Proper 15A (August 14, 2017), Matthew 15:21-28. Center for Excellence in Preaching. https://cep.calvinseminary.edu/sermon-starters/proper-15a/?type=the_lectionary_gospel
[6] See Kathleen Norris, Amazing Grace: A Vocabulary of Faith (New York: Riverhead Books, 1998), 169.
[7] Presbyterian Church USA, The Book of Confession, “The Second Helvetic Confession,” Chapter XVI, 5.112-113.
[8] Perhaps the reason Jesus says it is easier for the poor to get into heaven than the rich (Matthew 19:24) is because the poor, without resources, have no place else to turn for help.
Rock Castle Creek
I was not planning on making a change, but it’s happening. Maybe it was COVID. We’ve certainly have had more time to think and ponder about what is important. Could God be using this time to open me to listening? Whatever it was to bring this on, I have accepted a call to two small historic rock churches located eleven miles apart and right next to the Blue Ridge Parkway in Southern Virginia. These are two of six churches built by the Rev. Bob Childress in the first half of the 20th Century, at a time when this part of the county was remote and often violent. Ever hear of the Hatfields and McCoys? Childress story has been captured in Richard C. Davids’ biography, The Man Who Moved a Mountain. Once he was converted, he began to encourage the people of the mountains to help one another and not just look after their close family members. Sixty years after his death, five of his six “rock churches” are still going strong.
As I said, I wasn’t looking to move and thought I’d spend another year or two on Skidaway before trying to find more relaxed position. But back in March, I learned of an opening of a large camp and conference center in Texas that was looking for a new president and CEO. Their current one was retiring at the end of the year. They wanted a minister in this position and it was suggested that I had some of the skills of which they were looking. I have led churches through relocations and large building projects, along with having done fundraising and development work. I sent them a C.V. thinking they’d probably not be interested. They responded back and had me answer a bunch of questions. I wrote an extensive essay. Then they invited me to interview. While the position would have prestigious and I’d been well compensated, there was something (other than moving to Texas, which was another issue) that kept nagging at me. We discussed it as a family. I’d always thought that when I turned 65, I would try to find a small church to serve, knowing that my pension would be adequate to take care of the rest. Here I was, just two years away. There was a certain amount of trepidation about assuming, if offered the position, a job that would require a lot of travel, along with the headaches of managing a huge staff and raising a lot of money (mostly from Texas oil leaders, who weren’t able to give their oil away this Spring). Was this something I really wanted?
Bluemont Church
While this was going on, I saw an advertisement for a pastor to serve two churches along the Blue Ridge Parkway. My thought was, “I wish this was two years from now.” But then, the more I got to think about it, I decided to check it out. I sent them an email. Less than a week after receiving my query email, I received a call from the chair of their Pastor Nominating Committee. Early in the conversation she said, “We want you as our pastor.” I responded, jokingly, “You don’t know me.” That’s when I learned that while they hadn’t met me, they knew a lot about me as they had watched sermons and read this blog. I agreed to visit and found everyone to be nice and the area to be wonderful. At the end of my visit, they made an official offer for me to become their pastor candidate (the congregation still had to vote).
I realized that I could live on what they were paying without having to tap into my retirement funds. As they say, the rest is history. I pulled out of the interview for the Texas position. However, I realize now that position served as the catalyst for me being led to this new call. Last week, we signed the contract that made it all official. I will assume the position in October. I will be preaching twice a Sunday, leading Bible Studies, but mostly pastoring the folks living up on the mountain along with a lot of seasonal residents with cabins who attend the churches during the warmer months.
God’s ways of leading are mysterious until much later. Like Abraham, we head off on a journey, unsure of our destination, but sure of the one we follow. I am going to miss the good people at Skidaway just as I am looking forward to meeting the good people on the mountain. I have been blessed. I have enjoyed my time here, just as I have always found something to enjoy everywhere I have lived. After all, it’s all God’s world. And God is going to see us all through this transition.
Mayberry Church
I have always loved the mountains and the Appalachians are my first love. Long before spending significant time out west, I hiked the Appalachian Trail. The southern mountains are beautiful in all seasons. While the colors are spectacular in the fall, the spring is full of life. In the winter, the mountains often rest under a thin blanket of snow, and in the summer, everything is green and lush. And the history in these ancient mountains runs deep. While there is much I will miss by not living on the coast, especially sailing, I look forward to spending more time paddling rivers, hiking in the mountains, and bicycling along numerous “rails-to-trails” in the region. It’s also a little closer to my parents and easier to get to Donna’s family (you don’t have to drive through Atlanta from there).
View of the “Buffalo” (from the house that’s under contract)
If you’re ever up this way, stop in. Sunday worship at Mayberry begins at 9 AM, followed by a 10:30 AM service at Bluemont. I think they keep the time close together, knowing the pastor has to travel 11 miles (with the Parkway’s 45 mph speed limit), as a way to make sure I won’t go into overtime! The Mayberry Church is located just a few miles south of Meadows of Dan (and US 58). The Bluemont Church is eight miles north of Fancy Gap (US 52), which is where the Blue Ridge Parkway crosses Interstate 77. As we’re going to be dealing with this pandemic for a while, one of my first tasks will be getting the services up on YouTube. I’ll let you know through this blog when that happens and how to find it.
Life is always exciting, but now I have to go pack some more boxes.
Lunch rest while on a hike last week along the Blue Ridge
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
Matthew 14:22-33
August 9, 2020
To watch the sermon, go to our YouTube page (linked here). The sermon begins at 16:30.
As you heard in Deanie’s wonderful sermon last week, it had been a tough day for Jesus and the disciples. Jesus had received the news that his cousin, who’d herald his coming, had been executed. Jesus and the disciples tried to get away, but the crowds caught up to them. Jesus stopped and spent the afternoon talking and healing. The crowds feasted on Jesus’ words, but the disciples knew that words would not fill an empty stomach. The twelve watched the sun drop in the western sky. In the age before fast food, there was no place to eat and they knew folk’s stomach’s would soon be growling. Worried, they interrupt Jesus and suggest he sends the crowds away so they can go into the villages and buy food. They are surprised to learn that Jesus expects them to feed the crowds. With Jesus’ help and a bit of fish and bread, everyone is fed and to drive home the point, there is enough food that each of the disciples left with a full basket. Then, as people are licking their fingers, Jesus has the disciples get into a boat to sail for a distant shore. He, himself, stays behind, saying he’ll catch up later, and disappears into the hills. Jesus still hasn’t dealt with the grief of John’s death. Like I said, it’s been a long tough day and it ain’t over yet.
Everyone else gets to goes home while the disciples row toward a distant shore. Then, in the darkness of night, something happens. Clouds move in, darkening the moon and clouds. The wind picks up and whitecaps begin to dot the lake. The disciples struggle with the oars as the waves rise. Normally at night, the sea calms as the air cools, unless there is a storm. And on this night, there’s a storm building. The disciples, which include four fishermen, panic. They struggle, hoping to keep the boat afloat long enough for the storm to abate. With the bow into the waves, some pull on the oars while others bail water.
The storm blows throughout the evening and into the early morning hours. The wind has put so much water into the air that everything is misty. It’s hard, in an era without navigation lighting, to make out the shoreline. So, they keep rowing, which is good advice, for you need momentum to push through the waves. Keeping the oars in the water helps maintain the boat’s stability. This goes on for hours. Imagine how exhausted they are when they see someone walking across the water toward them. It’s not surprising they think it’s a ghost. Even if you didn’t believe in ghosts, you’d reconsider. Or maybe, you’d think it’s the angel of death, coming to extract its toll. Exhausted and seeing such an apparition is enough to push you over the edge. But just when the disciples fear all is lost, they hear Jesus’ sweet Galilean voice. Jesus calls to them across the water; he’s coming to them in their hour of need.
Had the disciples had time to think theologically, they might not have been so shocked. After all, one of the first thing God does in creation is the calm the chaos of the waters and in the Exodus, God divides the waters so Israel can escape the wrath of the Egyptians.[1] In Psalm 77, God is portrayed as making his way across the mighty waters and in Job, we’re told of God trampling the waves.[2] God’s control extends even over the waters and if Jesus is Lord, it should be of no surprise that he walked out on the sea to rescue the disciples.
But the disciples are not clearly thinking this night. All they know is that they are in trouble and their friend Jesus is coming to bail ‘em out (I know, that’s a bad play on words). They are in need and here comes Jesus. The storm, it appears, rages until our Savior takes a seat in the boat, but even if it had continued, Jesus’ presence would have been enough. With Jesus there, their fears are calmed.
There’s a mini lesson in this for us. When we know someone in need or trouble, we often don’t act because we don’t feel we can do anything helpful. But being present is one way we can act. Just being presence with a person in need can help. Furthermore, when we are in need, it is comforting to know Jesus is with us. The comforting presence of our Savior is enough to calm our troubled souls. Just having a friend beside us in the boat is a blessing. We make more out of Peter getting out of the boat in this story, but it’s more important for us to understand the need to have Jesus in the boat. But let’s now consider Peter.
Peter is so excited that he wants to try Jesus’ stunt himself. Before he gets to the boat, Jesus says, “Okay, come on out.” Peter does. He walks on water. Think about it. This is an amazing feat. But the problem is that he thinks about what he’s doing. When Peter looks around and sees the waves and the water under his feet, he panics and immediately sinks. You know, in a couple of chapters, Jesus, in a play on Peter’s name, which comes from the Greek work, petra, or rock, proclaims that upon this rock he’ll build his church.[3] Its generally assumed that because Peter was a strong man from having spent a lifetime pulling nets that he received the name that means rock, but perhaps there’s some humor in all this. Ever heard of someone who “swam like a rock?” That’s Peter!
Can you image the disciples gathered around Peter and Jesus, snickering about Jesus building his church upon the rock—the rock that sank? But Peter wasn’t building the church alone. Peter had to have faith in the Almighty to step up into the leadership role after Jesus’ ascension. In a way, however, we’re all like Peter and sooner or later, we’ll all find ourselves in over our head and sinking and at that point we’ll need a lift, like the one Jesus gave Peter. Jesus will be present with us and will help us when we are in need.
In a way, we’re all like Peter, who was a man of human frailty. Peter often screwed up. He thought he could tell Jesus what not to do… “No, No, No, don’t go to Jerusalem to be crucified.”[4] And then later, when Jesus was arrested, Peter, perhaps Jesus’ closest disciple, denies knowing him.[5] And here, he’s able to take a step or two on water, as long as he focuses on Jesus, but then sinks when he‘s distracted. We’re a lot like that as individuals and the church. There is a lot God can accomplish in us if we remain focused on Jesus. But when we stop focusing on Jesus, we get in trouble.
This is what most people focus on in this story. John Ortberg even wrote a book titled, If You Want to Walk on Water, You have to Get Out of the Boat. And that’s what we think this story is about: having that kind of faith in Jesus and focusing on him so that we can walk on water and not slip under the waves. But such an interpretation of this passage makes it into a moral story in which we feel guilty because none of have walked on water,[6] nor have we known anyone to walk on water except perhaps up north when the lakes are frozen. If this is only a story about stepping out in faith, we’d feel pretty bad because none of us is up to the task. So, let me suggest another interpretation.
There is good news even with Peter’s near drowning. When life begins to overwhelm us, as it appears to be doing these days as we worry about the pandemic and the economy and the upcoming election and everything else going on in the world, it is easy to be overwhelmed. It is easy to slip under the waves. But just as Jesus came into our lives when we first believed, he is also there when we get in over our heads. He’s there to help us turn our lives around. We can learn from our mistakes, which is a very thing for we have a forgiving God who is willing to help us when we depend on him and not on our own abilities.
You know, I image there was quite a bit of tension in that boat before Jesus stepped in. The twelve disciples were all afraid, but there may have even been some tension between the four fisherman and the rest of the disciples. The other eight, who were not seamen, were depending on the fishermen to know what to do. Why did they allow themselves to get into this dangerous predicament? But when Jesus comes aboard, they all calm down, as does the wind and waves. They know they’ll be alright. And as the wind dies and the waves cease, they do what we should do whenever God saves us. They worship Jesus. That’s the message we should take with us. Don’t worry about jumping overboard and trying to walk on water. Instead, let’s make sure we invite Jesus aboard our boats. For Jesus comes to save us and our response is to worship him. May it be so.
©2020
References:
Bruner, Frederick Dale, The Christbook: Matthew 1-12 (Grand Rapids, MI:
Eerdmans, 2004).
Hare, Douglas R. A., Matthew: Interpretation, A Commentary for Teaching and Preaching (Louisville: John Knox Press, 1992).
[1] Genesis 1:1-13 and Exodus 14.
[2] Psalm 77:16-20 and Job 9:8.
[3] Matthew 16:18.
[4] Matthew 16:21-24.
[5] Matthew 26:69-75.
[6] See Scott Hoezee, “Proper 14A (August 3, 2020), Matthew 14:22-33 at the Center for Excellence in Preaching website.
James H. Cone, (Marynoll, NY: Orbis Books, 2011), 202 pages including notes and an index.
The late James Cone (1938-2018) tackled a tough topic, linking together the most powerful symbol for Christians, the cross, and the most shameful symbol of white supremacy, the lynching tree. The shame of the latter has been with me since the fourth or fifth grade. We had just moved back to North Carolina and in our state history book, there was a photo of lynching in Moore County that occurred in the late 19th Century. The main thing I remember was all the people, many young, were smiling around a dangling lifeless body. It was as if they were having a party. I was born in Moore County. I quickly did the math and realized that some of my great-grandparents (several of whom were still alive) could have been in that photo. I was horrified and didn’t want anyone to know that I’d come from that county. Of course, lynching wasn’t limited to Moore County. There were more lynchings (and ex-judicial killings) in other counties within the state and even more in other Southern states. Lynching wasn’t even limited to the South. Lynchings occurred all over the country. While some victims were white; in the West, Chinese and Mexican were thrown into the mix. But most of the victims were African American. Lynching was a way to keep the race terrified and, having been freed from slavery, under the control of their former white masters.
Cone set out to ask, “Can the cross redeem the lynching tree?” and “Can the lynching tree liberate the cross and make it real in American history?” (161) There is a danger to our theology when we spiritualize the cross. There is a danger to our humanity when we ignore the lynching tree and deny the sin of white supremacy and the horrible treatment that African-Americans have experienced since first being brought in chains to American shores in 1619.
Cone begins his study with a detailed look at the cross. As a religious symbol, the cross is a paradox. Like the lynching tree, the Romans used the cross to terrify and keep at bay those who might threaten the Empire. Death on the cross was horrible. Yet, the church adopted this horrific symbol, claiming that God’s power is greater than the worse evil humans can inflict on others. For the human mind, as the Apostle Paul points out, the cross is a contradiction. But God can redeem this symbol and today the cross instead of being the horrific symbol of the empire’s power, is a sign of freedom and hope. As Cone explores as the beginning of his book, the cross is a common theme in both Black and White churches, but because of the experience of the two races, the cross is experienced differently. In White Churches, its more about the other world. That’s true in Black Churches, too, but there the cross is also a powerful symbol of hope for a people who have been oppressed.
Cone explores the theology of the cross of Reinhold Niebuhr. Perhaps the greatest American theologian of the 20th Century, Niebuhr had a lot to say about the cross. (Cone suggests Reinhold Niebuhr may be the greatest American theologian ever, but I would argue that point. However, Niebuhr was a major theologian and a scholar in the public realm during the 20th Century.) Much of Niebuhr’s early writings (1920s-1940s) was done at a time when lynching was at its height. And while Niebuhr spoke out against white supremacy, Cone finds it strange that he never linked together the cross and the lynching tree. The second theologian Cone explores is Martin Luther King. While King, coming from the African-American tradition, focuses on the cross, also avoids linking it with the lynching tree. However, the poets and musicians from the Black tradition, do make the link as Cone explains:
They ignored white theology, which did not affirm their humanity, and went straight to the stories of the Bible, interpreting them as stories of God siding with little people just like them. They identified God’s liberation of the poor as a central message of the Bible, and they communicated this message in their songs and sermons. (118)
Cone’s fourth chapter focuses on the women’s voice from the Black community. While some women were lynched (warning: there are horrific details of lynchings in this book), most victims of lynching were men. Women spoke out for the men who, in the face of the lynching tree remained quiet and tried not to be seen. However, the lynching tree, like the cross is stripped of its gender and made an experience of all who encountered it, whether as a victim or as a witness. Perhaps the best-known woman’s voice to raise the issue of lynching was Billie Holiday. In 1939, she began singing the song “Strange Fruit.” No publisher wanted to record this song, so she sang it in nightclubs. No one could doubt the meaning of the lyrics: “Black bodies swinging in the Southern breeze, strange fruit hanging from the poplar tree.”
This book may be difficult for white middle-class Christians to read, but we can’t deny that these things happened. If we want to get into the experience of how others understand their faith, we must listen to their voices. We must acknowledge their pain. In this book, Cone forces us to see the horrible treatment of a race and how it contradicts the Christian message. We need to lift up the lynching tree, in confession, realizing the sin it represents and live in the hope of a God who has the power to free us from such a past and shape us into a new people who might live in sister and brotherhood with those of a different hue.
This is the second book I’ve read by Cone. In the late 1980s, while in seminary, I read A Black Theology of Liberation. As a seminarian, I also studied under Ronald Stone, whose writings and conversations helped Cone shape his interpretation of Reinhold Niebuhr’s views of the cross. While the subject matter is often difficult, Cone is an engaging writer. In a time when American seems to be coming apart at the seams, this book should be read by those of us in the majority culture so that we can “walk a mile” in the shoes of those who are of a different color and whose experience as an American is different that ours.
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
Matthew 13:31-33, 44-50
July 26, 2020
At beginning of Worship:
Today, we’re finishing our look at Jesus’ parables in Matthew 13. Over the past two weeks, we’ve looked at larger parables, about farming. Today, Jesus rapidly fires off five parables about the kingdom that come from a variety of experiences. In these stories, we learn of God’s work and our need to respond with full commitment. Even when it doesn’t feel like it, when we are overwhelmed by the world, God is at work. When we discover God’s work, we need to join in. My question for us today, “Where do we see God at work and how should we respond?
After reading the scripture (Matthew 13:31-33, 44-50)
One purpose of a parable is to use simple things in which people can relate to tell a story that has profound implications. Jesus’ audience hasn’t seen Disneyworld or Las Vegas, which are at best cheap imitations of what God can do,[1] so instead of our Savior explaining God’s kingdom as some wonderful place, he tells stories. In a way, Jesus hops from one metaphor to another, telling them things they might know. They understand yeast and seeds, valuable treasures, and fishing. Like Jesus, let me tell a couple of stories.
When I was in seminary, I took a year off from my regular studies to take a test drive of pastoring. First Presbyterian Church in Virginia City, Nevada offered me a yearlong contract, as a student, to be their pastor. Up until this point in my life, I had never been to that part of the country. I’d been to the West Coast, to Los Angeles and to San Francisco. I’d even been to Yosemite, but I had never been in that vast sagebrush ocean known as the Great Basin. I was nervous. Nevada had gambling. “What kind of heathens gamble,” I wondered. Back in the mid-80s, you didn’t have casinos weren’t ubiquitous.
My second concern was it being the desert. I’d always been around water. I asked a member of their committee, who had lived in North Carolina, what Virginia City is like. He said I’d find it a lot like North Carolina, with the hills covered with pines. I knew he was teasing, but I needed to check it out. One weekend, I flew to Reno. It was night when I landed and in darkness, I was picked up and we drove up to the Virginia City, which is a couple thousand feet higher and on the back of a mountain range from Reno. The next morning, I couldn’t wait to see what kind of world I was in. I rushed to a window, opened the blinds, and looked out, and shook my head. Yes, there were pine trees alright, but the tallest of them might had been 12 feet high. Not much larger than the mustard tree in Jesus’ story. In time, I would come to know that these pinion pines, like the mustard bush, teams with life. Stellar jays, magpies, wrens, bluebirds, all kinds of small rodents and, in summer during the heat of the day, perhaps a great basin rattler. God takes care of them all, just as God took care of me. I soon got over my shock and set out exploring.
We are surprised by God’s kingdom. Who’d think that a little seed, be it a mustard or a pinion pine seed (which is great in pesto, by the way) could make such a difference?
The second image from my past is yeast. As you may remember, I spent five years working in a wholesale bakery, starting out while in college. You know, it doesn’t take a lot of yeast to make a lot of bread. Now, we used 50-pound bags of yeast, but we also received our flour in railcars. It’d take a couple of cars a week to supply our flour needs, during which time we’d go through a pallet or two of yeast. The thing about yeast is that once it’s mixed in, you have a hard time controlling it. The yeast takes over and the dough continues to expand until the yeast is killed in the baking process. When things go smoothly, the plant ran like clockwork. But occasionally, something happened, such as a jam in the oven. Suddenly everything stops, except the yeast. By the time things are fixed, the proof box is a mess cause all that dough kept growing and rising until it couldn’t rise anymore. Dough would be on everything. We’d have to take steam pressure cleaners and wash every rack in the proof box and all the pans. It was a mess. Thankfully, this didn’t happen often, but it happened enough that kept us humble.
“The Kingdom of Heaven is like yeast that a woman takes and mixes with flour until all of it was leavened.” Think about this. Once she introduces the yeast, it’s out of her control. If there is something in the dough for the yeast to eat, it continues to grow.
What Jesus is telling us here is that the kingdom is dynamic. Once the gospel is introduced, it starts growing and there is no stopping it. Think about how fast the church is growing today in China, even as the Communist Party tries to stamp it out. The church is growing in Africa and in the former Soviet Union, in India and South America. But the Kingdom is not only out there, on the mission field. It is also here in our congregation and even right here inside each of us.
The Kingdom is like a bit of yeast that can transform flour into a voluminous loaf, or a seed that can grow into a tree. Think about this for a moment. There are just a few things a baker can do to enhance the yeast. You keep it at the right temperature, feed it with sugar, and so forth… Likewise there are things we can do to enhance the growth of a tree such as watering and fertilizing. But ultimately, the yeast and the seed are not our doing. Their success, as both parables attest, belong to the hands of the one who controls life. These parables point to God’s involvement, to God doing something in our world and in our individual lives which we, by ourselves, cannot achieve.
At a time like this, with the pandemic and violence in the streets, we may wonder where God is and what God is doing. These stories remind us that we might not see God showing up in major ways, for that’s not how God works. Jesus was born among the animals in the poor hamlet in a far corner of the empire. A tablespoon of yeast or the seed that you can barely see can bring about great change. The change God brings into the world, into the kingdom, may not make the headlines of the New York Times, the Savannah Morning News, or even the Skinnie. But it’s here, alive, and working.
Jesus addresses the parable of the mustard seed and of yeast to a crowd of people. He wants everyone to know that God was doing something exciting and new in the world. Jesus wants to make it clear to everyone that God’s spirit is available; that if they would just open themselves up to the Kingdom which he’s ushering in, God could do wonderful things through their lives. The promise set forth in these parables still apply today.
After addressing the crowd, Jesus and the disciples slip away into a house. There the disciples questioned him concerning the meaning of parables. This gives Jesus an opportunity to tell more parables. The kingdom of heaven is like treasure hidden in a field, the merchant finding a valuable pearl, or a net cast into the sea.
Let’s think about these parables in relationship to the first two parables told to the masses. In the first set, Jesus suggest God’s action. As with the yeast or mustard seed, God is doing something in the world that we as humans cannot do. God is forgiving and creating new beings out of the old. It’s all God’s doing. However, in the parable of the hidden treasure and the valuable pearl, Jesus suggests we also act. The one who buys a field or buys the pearl does so because they want desperately to obtain the treasure or pearl. It’s the same way with God’s kingdom. When we experience a just a taste of it, we’re going to want it so badly that we’ll give up whatever in order to have it. This is the Calvinist doctrine of irresistible grace. If we experience the kingdom, we’re going to make it the number one priority in our lives. We need that kind of passion for God! Such passion will strengthen the church and further God’s work in the world. Now, parables can only be taken so far. No, unlike the person finding the treasure, we can’t buy ourselves a spot in the kingdom. But believe this: if we could, we should be willing to pay top dollar.
Jesus concludes these parables with one comparing the kingdom with a net which catches fishes, but in the end the good fish are separated from the bad. This ending parable is, in many ways, different from the others. Instead of being directed at the crowd or the disciples, it seems to be intended for the church. The parable is also the only one of this group which talks about the Kingdom in the future. The others four emphasize the beginning of the kingdom, here and now. Furthermore, this parable is about judgement. The fish which do not measure up are thrown out. However, it would be wrong to interpret ourselves as the discriminating fishermen. That task belongs to God. The familiar ring, which Jesus has already instructed, comes to mind: “Judge not, lest ye be judged.”[2]
There you have it. Two parables about God growing the kingdom, two about the value of the kingdom, and a warning… You know, Jesus doesn’t give us a clear picture of heaven here or anywhere in the Bible. He doesn’t talk about it as a place.[3] In The Divine Conspiracy, Dallas Willard speaks of a kingdom as a place where one person’s influence determines what will happen.[4] This kingdom is where Jesus’ influence is a living presence. The kingdom of heaven is not someplace we strive to get to; instead, it’s something which starts inside each of us when we open our lives to God and invite Jesus in…. Amen.
©2020
Resources and References:
Bruner, Frederick Dale, The Christbook: Matthew 1-12 (Grand Rapids, MI:
Eerdmans, 2004).
Duffield, Jill, “Looking into the Lectionary,” The Presbyterian Outlook (Online edition, July 20, 2020). https://pres-outlook.org/2020/07/8th-sunday-after-pentecost-july-26-2020/
Gundry, Robert H., Matthew: A Commentary on His Literary and Theological Art (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1982.
Hare, Douglas R. A., Matthew: Interpretation, A Commentary for Teaching and Preaching (Louisville: John Knox Press, 1992).
Hoezee, Scott, Proper 12A (July 20, 2020), from Calvin Theological Seminary’s “Center for Excellence in Preaching. https://cep.calvinseminary.edu/sermon-starters/proper-12a-2/?type=the_lectionary_gospel
[1] I’ve always been struck by Steve Wynn, one of the Las Vegas developers, often quoted (and blasphemous) quip about Vegas being how God would have done things if he had money.
[2][2] Matthew 7:1.
[3] In Revelation 21 & 22, John has a vision of a “new heaven and a new earth,” which is place, but Jesus keeps his kingdom talk to metaphors and ideas about what God can and is doing in the world.
[4] Dallas Willard, The Divine Conspiracy, as referred to by Scott Hoezee in his notes on this passage. See https://cep.calvinseminary.edu/sermon-starters/proper-12a-2/?type=the_lectionary_gospel
David Zucchino, Wilmington’s Lie: The Murderous Coup of 1898 and the Rise of White Supremacy (New York: Atlantic Monthly Press, 2020), 426 pages including notes, bibliography, and index along with 12 additional pages of prints.
On November 10, 1898, Wilmington, North Carolina erupted into violence. It began with an armed mob of white men burning the building which housed the Daily Record, an African American newspaper. Supposedly, this was because of an editorial that had been published months earlier that challenged the idea that lynching was necessary to keep black men away from white women. After the fire, the mob terrified the African American community while white community leaders set out to exile leaders within the African American community along with members of the City Council and the Police Chief. Backing up these groups were reserve soldiers and sailors who had just recently returned home after having been deployed during the Spanish American War. By the end of the day, Zucchino estimates that there were 60 dead and that most of the black community had fled into the swamps. Some would leave right away; others would leave over the next few months and their absence would change the community forever.
After the terror created within the African American community, the leaders of this coup, turned to the elected and appointed leaders within the city government, who were mostly Republicans who had been elected with the help of the black vote. The election two days earlier had been a landslide for the Democrats (who at this time in history were the conservatives and had made the election about white supremacy). But with the mayor and aldermen not up for re-election, the leaders of the coup used the violence of the day as a reason to march on city hall and to demand the resignation of the city’s leaders. Then they placed their own people in power. The story reads like a who’s who of Wilmington’s leading families who were involved in the coup, along with clergy and members of the Jewish community.
David Zucchino, a reporter by trade, is not the first to tell this story. But Zucchino, with engaging prose, offers new insight into the events leading up to 1898 as well as what happened afterwards. While much of what had been said about 1898 throughout history had been a lie, but the book could have also been called “Wilmington’s Secret.” This is not the kind of story a community speaks about publicly and, until the 100th anniversary of the event approached, most people knew little about what happened in 1898. I lived in the Wilmington area from age 9 to 24 and only knew rumors about 1898. I even played baseball at Hugh McRae Park (which recently has been renamed), unaware that the park was given to the country to only be used by whites. Even in the late 60s, I don’t remember seeing any blacks in the park. McRae was one of the leaders of the white supremacy movement in Wilmington. It wasn’t until the late 1990s, when I was home visiting my parents and picked up Philip Gerard’s novel, Cape Fear Rising, that I began to fully understand what happened. Since then, I have read four other books about this episode in history.
Zucchino begins his story with the fall of Wilmington to Union forces in the final months of the Civil War. In short chapters that focus on an event or a point in time, which reads like a newspaper column, Zucchino paints a broad picture of what was happening in Wilmington prior to 1898. Wilmington was a place of opportunity for African Americans and many moved to Wilmington seeking a better life. At this time, most African Americans in North Carolina still had the right to vote and many did, which led to the 1898 election in which the black population was discouraged to exercise their rights. In the aftermath of 1898, the state would establish laws that would essentially disenfranchise black voters. Zucchinno shows that the event of November 10 was carefully planned. It was the ultimate example of playing the “race card.” The white leaders within the city excited fear of a black uprising among the white population, but they kept the white citizens from acting until after the elections. They even stopped earlier attempts to get Manly and his newspaper (which had published the supposedly offensive editorial months before the November events). By waiting till after the elections, they were able to intimidate the black population from voting while keeping the federal government from becoming involved. Even on November 10th, they were careful not to avoid endangering federal government property and employees (such as the head of the Customs for the Port of Wilmington, who was African American) because of a fear of the federal government becoming involved.
Zucchino doesn’t end his story in 1898. He looks at the impact on what happened in Wilmington on the rest of the country and tells what happened to the leadership on both sides in the decades following the coup. As he points out, even in 1998, at the 100th anniversary of the event, there was tension as to how the story would be told.
While there are many books about the 1898 coup, Zucchino’s book is professionally written and brings the events to light in a clear manner. This is a worthwhile addition to the growing library on both this horrific event and the rise of the Jim Crow South, as well of an example how fear, hatred, and misinformation can be used to incite evil.
My review of We Have Taken a City, another book about this event, click here.
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
July 19, 2020
Matthew 13:24-30, 36-43
Opening of Worship: Nothing needs reforming as much as other people’s bad habits.” That’s probably Mark Twain’s most quoted saying. It rings true. It’s easy to see where someone else is wrong and to ignore our own blind spots. We want everyone but ourselves to clean up their act, forgetting the log in our own eyes.[1] Today, we’re looking at another parable from the 13th Chapter of Matthew. Like last week, it focuses on agriculture. This second “big field” parable is about the weeds growing within the wheat. We want everything to be pure, but at what cost? This morning, ask yourself if we really think we’re capable of being an honest judge?
###
I was gypped as a child. I don’t remember a sermon on this text. This scripture could have been added to the arsenal I used to make a case for not chopping weeds in the garden. I wasn’t a biblical literate child.
However, I am not sure this reason to not to pull weeds would have worked any better than when I told my siblings that the Bible said they should respect and obey me since I was their elder. Two things you can take away from this: using the Bible for our own self-fulfillment is dangerous, and the Bible is not a “how-to-farm” manual.[2]
Jesus tells this parable because he knows we’d like nothing more than to clean up other folk’s lives and when we attempt to do this, we often create a mess. If the church had paid a little more attention to this parable, we’d have had fewer headaches. Crusades, witch-hunts, inquisitions, and other quests for purity that have given the church black eyes and created massive suffering could have been avoided.
This parable is about the church.[3] We could easily place ourselves in the role of the farmhands who inform their boss of the problems going on in the back 40. “There are weeds in the wheat.” It’s a terrible thing… What should we do about it?
When I was in seminary and working for a church in Butler, Pennsylvania, I took the youth skiing one Saturday. The kids could invite friends. Ryan invited a friend who attended a very conservative church. In our group was another kid named David. This was back in the mid-80s. David was a “skater” and a problem child. On this particular day, it took him only an hour or so for the ski patrol, who had called him down a few times, to revoke his skiing privileges. David got to spend the rest of the day sitting in the lodge with a mother who didn’t ski, but volunteered to come along as a driver, to fix our lunch, and watch over our stuff. I’m not sure if she realized watching over our stuff including sitting on David.
After lunch, I spent some time skiing with Ryan and his friend. Riding up on a lift, this guy, filled with self-righteousness, asked me what kind of church we were to allow the likes of David to be in our midst. He assured me that his church would never allow David to go on their trips. My first thought was to get rid of the weeds and to throw this kid off the lift. But I came to my senses and tried to reason with him about how, if we’re here for anyone, we’re here for the David’s of the world. Then I mentioned about how Jesus seemed to prefer the company of sinners to those who are self-righteous. I began to take pride in my ability to rub his nose in Jesus’ words, until I realized I was no better than him.
You know, there have been times when I’ve wondered why someone was in church. Wouldn’t the church be a lot better if we didn’t have self-righteous folks like that kid on the lift? Wouldn’t it be better if there were no hypocrites giving us a bad name? Wouldn’t it be a lot better in here if we were all squeaky clean? Probably not; if we were perfect, we wouldn’t need a Savior and we wouldn’t need the church. And if the church was that perfect, without the self-righteous, the hypocrites and those less than squeaky clean, most of us including myself would be out.
Let me suggest this… The farmhands’ question as to where these weeds came from is the same as us wondering why there is so much evil in the world.[4] Scripture doesn’t give us a good answer as to why there’s evil; instead we’re given a prescription of how to overcome it. Our righteousness is not from our efforts, but from Jesus Christ.
Martin Luther realized the church can’t be without evil people. Writing about the parable, he said: “Those fanatics who don’t want to tolerate any weeds end up with no wheat.”[5] This parable reminds us that we have to deal with the weeds and the wheat, the good and the bad. As much of a pain the weeds might be, they can make us stronger (as with a plant that must compete with other plants for nourishment and sun). Furthermore, the weeds serve as a constant reminder that we are not the ones who are in control.
God is in control. And there are many good reasons why God might not want to purify the church right away. First of all, God knows that any campaign to purify is going to create problems. The wheat, whose roots are not fully established, may be harmed when the workers try to pull out the weeds, just as good people are often harmed when someone becomes over zealous and instills a campaign of righteousness.
I’ve referred before to C. S. Lewis’ little book, The Screwtape Letters. It’s the fictional correspondence from Screwtape, an older and well-seasoned demon, to his nephew, Wormwood. Screwtape gives the younger demon advice as to how to win a soul over to the dark side. Screwtape refers to Wormwood’s subject as a patient. When Wormwood’s patient becomes a Christian, obviously a failure if you’re a demon, his uncle encourages patience:
One of our great allies at present is the church itself. Do not misunderstand me. I do not mean the church as we see her spread out through all time and space and rooted in eternity, terrible as an army with banners… Fortunately, it is quite invisible to these humans. All your patient sees is the half-finished sham…
Screwtape goes on to point out that when Wormwood’s patient gets into the pews and looks around he’ll see “his neighbors whom he has hitherto avoided.” Then the demon could make his move.
Make his mind flit to and fro between an expression like ‘the body of Christ’ and the actual faces in the next pew. It matters very little what kind of people that next pew really contains… Provided that any of those neighbors sing out of tune, or have boots that squeak, or double chins, or odd clothes… Work hard, then, on the disappointment or anticlimax which is certainly coming to the patient.[6]
This parable reminds us that we have to be careful that our zeal for holiness doesn’t become corrupt and our love becomes hate. If that happens, we’re no better than those whose actions we deplore. Scripture is clear that God has an enemy in the world who would like nothing more than to turn us away from the truth. It’s not always wild and sinful living that cause us to fall; we can also become so consumed to rid our world of evil and we begin began to think we are so important that we ignore The parable of the weeds reminds us that if our enemy is unable to keep the seeds from taking root, he will as one commentator on the passage observed, “Overwhelm us with a loathing of evil.” In other words, he’ll corrupt our love and use it against us.[7]
Of course, the farmer in the story is God. As the farmhands, we may think we can be in control, but as we find out here, the farmer is wise and wants to make sure that the crop is not harmed by our zealous efforts. Now, there is another underlying message here. We might want to ask why we have to suffer evil in this world… At times, it may even appear that there is a benefit for being bad, for being a weed. But this passage reminds us that sooner or later, everyone gets their due. The evil may seem to prosper in this world, but there’s judgment coming. When the harvest is ready, the weeds will be consumed. Judgment means there will be “weeping and gashing of teeth,” which is another way of saying it won’t be good for the weeds.[8]
What might this passage say to us? It encourages tolerance. As sinners, redeemed by Jesus Christ, we must be careful not to think too highly of ourselves or to be too quick to condemn others. The church isn’t going to always be perfect. In Martin Luther’s writings, he recalls this old saying: “Whenever God erects a house of prayer, the devil builds a chapel.”[9] Trying to destroy that chapel may result in terrible collateral damage.
The church on earth will never be pure, but that’s okay because God is not finished with us yet. If we as the church can be accepting of others in the manner of Jesus, we will draw others to us that may not, at first, look like they belong. But we’re not the one who judges. Instead, we give thanks for those in our midst and love them unconditionally in the same manner that we’ve been loved by our Father in heaven. So, before we go out and volunteer for a crusade or sign up as the Grand Inquisitor, think about what Jesus is telling us through this parable. As farmhands within the story, we’re not in control.
A second thing to consider is that sometimes we might look a lot like weeds and on those occasions, we’d like to experience a little grace (just like others would like a little grace from us). Grace is a powerful tool in this world of ours. A little grace will go a long way toward breaking down barriers and bringing people together. As followers of Jesus, as his farmhands, we need to be showing the world what grace looks like.
In his memoir, A Dresser of Sycamore Trees: The Finding of a Ministry, Garret Keizer tells of a time he’d stopped at a grocery store to pick up some bananas for an elderly friend he was going to visit. He was smug thinking of his good deed. But then, ahead of him in the check-out line was a woman who had a bunch of little purchases. She paid for them individually. He had no choice but to wait as she fumbled around with these little piles of money. Waiting, he began to resent the woman. As he followed her out of the store, having quickly paid for his bananas, he “shot her that look” that said, “You’re a jerk.” But then, he noticed her opening the door of a large van. On the side was a sign for a local nursing home. Before she drove away, she handed each of the residents who were inside the van, their packages.[10]
We gotta be careful. We just might pull the wheat up with the weeds.
Show some grace this week. People are pretty tense with all that’s going on in the world. It’s easy for us to get upset with “Them,” whoever “them” might be. When we are stressed, we can make bad judgment. So, let’s show patience and trust God to judge, while we do what good we can. Amen.
©2020
[1] See Matthew 7:3.
[2] “[T]his story is not about agriculture but instead it is about theology… do not consult it for best agricultural practices!” Scott Hoezee, “Proper 11A, July 13, 2020, https://cep.calvinseminary.edu/sermon-starters/proper-11a-2/?type=the_lectionary_gospel
[3] There have been debates as to whether this parable is about the world or the church, but the evidence and most scholars think this passage applies to the church. See Douglas Hare, Matthew: Interpretation (Louisville; John Knox Press, 1993), 155.
[4] F. Dale Brunner, The Churchbook: Matthew 13-28 (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2004), 28.
[5] Martin Luther, as quoted by Bruner, 30.
[6] C. S. Lewis The Screwtape Letters (1941, New York, Macmillan 1961), 12-13.
[7] Bruner, 27.
[8] Bruner, 45.
[9] Luther’s Works, 51:173-87, as quoted by Bruner, 27.
[10] Garret Keizer, A Dresser of Sycamore Trees: The Finding of a Ministry, as told by Jill Duffeld, “7th Sunday after Pentecost: God Does the Sorting,” The Presbyterian Outlook (July 13, 2020, online edition)
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
July 12, 2020
Matthew 13:1-9, 18-23
A crowd gathers around Jesus. They press in, each trying to get closer to the mysterious storyteller, to touch the garment of the great healer. It’s an age before social distancing. Our Savior, to create breathing room, jumps into a boat and rows out a short distance from the shore. Then he turns toward the crowd and sees their tired faces: peasant farmers who toil to make ends meet, sun chapped fishermen who struggle day by day to provide for their families, young women whose bodies are already old from laboring in the fields. Jesus also sees the discouragement of disciples who’ve witnessed believers turn away. His heart goes out them. Knowing and understanding their disappointments, he tells a story:
“Listen! A sower went out to sow. And as he sowed, some seeds fell on the path, and the birds came and ate them up. Other seeds fell on rocky ground, where they did not have much soil, and they sprang up quickly, since they had no depth of soil. But when the sun rose, they were scorched; and since they had no root, they withered away. Other seeds fell among thorns, and the thorns grew up and choked them. Other seeds fell on good soil and brought forth grain, some a hundredfold, some sixty, some thirty. Let anyone with ears listen!”
What does that mean, they began to ask themselves? Many are farmers and none had experienced such abundance. What kind of harvest have you received from seeds you’ve sown?
You know, gardening is big this year. I had a hard time finding seeds and plants earlier in the spring when I was setting up my summer garden in my plot at Skidaway Farms. With the lockdown and the limited products available at the grocery store in the spring, it seemed many were returning to their roots. People are digging in the dirt, which is a good thing. And I’ve had a good year. Sadly, the tomatoes, cucumbers and squash are done in this heat—but I’m beginning to get my fill of okra, eggplant and peppers! There are a variety of items to tease my taste buds. And it’s good to work in the dirt.
A number of years ago, I asked a farmer about this parable. I wanted to know what a good harvest of oats—one of the grains of choice in Jesus’ era, would be today. I was told such a crop generally yields between seventy and hundred bushels per acre and that he might use 2 or 3 bushels planting that acre giving a yield of roughly thirty fold.[1] With all our technology and science, tractors and herbicides, a hundred fold still seems out of reach.
The discouraged farmers and disciples listen to Jesus’ message, but they’re confused. They identify with the difficulty of the sower whose seeds are eaten or fall along the path, but they cannot understand where a farmer could have found such good soil to produce a crop of even thirty fold, and certainly not sixty or a hundred fold. Farmers in Palestine in the first century had it tough. On average, for every bushel of grain they planted they reaped only seven and a half bushels. If it was an exceptionally good harvest, they might gather ten bushels.[2]
Obviously, God would have to really bless the crop if one was to reap 30 or more bushels. And Jesus’ message is just that, the harvest, those in whom the gospel takes root is a blessing from God. As humans, we cannot produce such an effort. But God can and therefore, as farmers know, we do our part and then must be patient, waiting and expecting the best.
This parable is an analogy and it is dangerous to push the analogy too far and think that the seeds which fell in the good soil were lucky while those who fell in the poorer areas were just ill-fated. Such an interpretation would diminish our responsibility for our actions. Perhaps, because the analogy can be interpreted in such a way, Jesus explains the story:
“Hear then the parable of the sower. When anyone hears the word of the kingdom and does not understand it, the evil one comes and snatches away what is sown in the heart; this is what was sown on the path. As for what was sown on rocky ground, this is the one who hears the word and immediately receives it with joy; yet such a person has no root, but endures only for a while, and when trouble or persecution arises on account of the word, that person immediately falls away. As for what was sown among thorns, this is the one who hears the word, but the cares of the world and the lure of wealth choke the word, and it yields nothing. But as for what was sown on good soil, this is the one who hears the word and understands it, who indeed bears fruit and yields, in one case a hundredfold, in another sixty, and in another thirty.”
Jesus’ explanation emphasizes three dangers facing Christians in the world. Those who do not understand the gospel are quickly snatched away by the evil one just like the seeds on the hardened path are eaten by birds. To understand the gospel means more than an intellectual comprehension. To understand, in the Old Testament sense, implies a moral commitment as shown by the author of the 119th Psalm: “Give me understanding, that I may keep your law and observe it with my whole heart.”[3] The first seeds lost are those who do not seek to live within God’s word.
The second danger facing Christians is marginal belief. Like the plant which grows in rocky soil, the believer who is not firm in his or her faith might grow up quickly, promising to do great things, only to turn away when times are tough. We’ve seen it happen, haven’t we? People who get all excited and join the church, then become disinterested, burned-out, or melt away when challenged. We need to carefully strengthen our faith in Jesus Christ, allowing ourselves to get a good root system started. Otherwise, in our immaturity, we’ll try to take on the world and end up overwhelmed and give up.
The third obstacle facing Christians are the temptations of the world. The seeds overwhelmed by the thorns are examples of those who are more attracted to worldly affairs than to the gospel. We cannot serve two masters, Jesus has already told us in Matthew’s gospel,[4] and those who focus on worldly concerns soon forget about the gospel. As Christians, we are to be concerned for the world because God’s love for the world, not because of our own desires. Sometimes we get this turned around and then end up working for what we want and not for what God would have us do.
But this passage is not about avoiding good or bad soil, which is something over which the seed has no control. Instead, it’s a parable about what God can do. Jesus tells of the good soil which produced upwards of hundred fold. I’ve already discussed how such a yield was impossible in Biblical times and unheard of today, so we must conclude that the good soil is even more blessed by God so that it can produce such results. It’s important to understand that a plant is not judged on how it looks while growing, but on the fruit it sustains. Note that both the seeds sown on rocky soil and among the briers grow at first… Often, as with the case of the plant in the rocky soil, such seeds sprout and grow fast, but produce no long-term harvest. Only the seed in the good soil produces a bountiful harvest.
Our purpose isn’t to be digging up the thorns. Instead, we’re to encourage growth and deep roots.[5] Jesus also emphasis this later in this chapter, which we’ll look at next week, with the parable of the weeds amongst the wheat.[6] Judgment belongs to God, we’re to encourage growth and trust in the Almighty.
You know, when I was a kid we always had a large garden. Even though we lived in suburban America, my mother still thought she was on the farm… Every year, it seemed, she was in a contest with her mother and mother-in-law to see who could can the most green beans. Continually, throughout my childhood, they competed and set new world records for the number of quarts of green beans they canned. Why our family needed 75 quarts of green beans was beyond my comprehension-then and now-especially since everyone else was also busy canning them. They couldn’t give them away so after being forced to snap the beans, the beans were forced on us kids all winter long. This was in the ‘60’s, a time when Nuclear War seemed like a real possibility. I assure you, the thought of the bomb wasn’t nearly as frightening as living in a cellar eating green beans out of old Mason Jars… Now you know why it is I don’t like green beans. As for the green bean casseroles, I’ll steal an onion ring off the top, if you’re not looking, and leave you the rest.
Green beans aside, it takes time to produce a good crop. In my garden at the community farm, where I refuse to plant green beans, I am constantly pulling weeds, fighting fire ants, and trying to scare away birds. None of us have Jack’s magic seeds, we can’t plant a seed and have it grow up overnight. If we want a good garden, we must take the time to tend to it. The Christian life is similar. We must nourish ourselves continually, being constantly on the lookout for that which keeps us from focusing on Christ. And when we nourish ourselves—by studying God’s word, praying, worshipping, keeping the Sabbath, striving to be generous, and to show grace to all—we open ourselves up to be used and transformed by God. And God can use us to sow more seeds in the world which, if nurtured, will lead to more transformations, which offers the world hope.
But remember this is a parable. Don’t despair, thinking you are in the wrong soil. Don’t give up if things don’t go the way you feel they should. It’s easy to get discouraged and depressed. Instead of us seeing ourselves as seeds, we should see ourselves as the one who sows the seed. Even though God has blessed us, and for this we should continually give thanks, when we look around our community and across the globe, we see many people who are in need and not being reached by any Church, people who don’t know the love and forgiveness of Jesus Christ.
You know, the disciples must have felt the same way as we do before Jesus told them this parable. After hearing his words, they realized God was with them. Sure, there were many people who rejected Jesus’ words. Sure, there were those who seemed so eager to follow Jesus, but had no roots and quickly fell away. Sure, there were guys like the rich young ruler who wanted to follow Jesus, but just couldn’t let go of the world.[7] But there were also blind men who could see and those who had been lame were walking. The disciples must have understood what Paul would later say: “So neither the one who plants nor the one who waters is anything, but only God who gives the growth.”[8]
Jesus’ story encourages us not to give up. Keep sowing the grain. Even in face of meager results, be true to the gospel and continue to praise God and proclaim to the world that Jesus Christ is the way and the truth and the life.[9] For we never know when God might provide a harvest of a 100 fold! That’s our job. Even amid doubt and despair, even during a pandemic, we claim this world for God. We believe that God is working out things for the best, and we pray God will give us a harvest. So let’s do our part and sow the seeds of the gospel. When you can offer hope to someone, offer hope. When you can help someone, help them. Do it all in the love of Jesus and give him the credit. Amen
[1] Wayne Kent, Ellicottville, NY.
[2]Douglas Hare, Matthew: Interpretation, A Bible Commentary for Teaching and Preaching (Louisville: John Knox, 1992), 152-153.
[3] Psalm 119:34.
[4] Matthew 6:24.
[5] Brian McLaren, A Generous Orthodoxy, (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2004), 254-255.
[6] Matthew 13:24-30, 36-43.
[7] Luke 18:18-23.
[8] 1 Corinthians 3:7.
[9] John 14:6.
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
July 5, 2020
Matthew 11:16-19
To watch this service, click here. To watch the sermon, fast forward to 20:00 minutes in the stream.
Opening of Worship:
How many of you remember Calvin and Hobbes, the comic strip? I always identified with that kid. There was a time when Calvin was writing a self-help book. O Great, you might think, just world needs, another self-help book. But Calvin saw a fortune to be made, as he confides to Hobbes. His strategy is to convince people there’s something wrong with them. It’s rather easy, because advertising has already conditioned us to feel insecure about our weight, looks, social status, sex appeal, and so on… “Next, he’ll convince people that the problem is not their fault.” This, too, is easy because nobody wants to be responsible.
Having prepared the way, Calvin feels he can sell folks on his expert advice and encouragement. He’s on to something. We long for satisfaction and we expect someone to show us where to find it.
But the answers are not so simple. For followers of Jesus, we must admit that we don’t have simple or easy answers for life’s problems. You know, the early church was known as “The Way.”[1] That was because they didn’t give out pat answers, instead they point to the only enteral truth they knew—Jesus Christ. The church was the way people learned about Christ and is the vehicle God uses to share the gospel to the world. Think about it…
Back to that comic strip, Calvin decides he’ll help people get over their addiction to self-help books. His book is titled, Shut Up and Stop Whining: How to Do Something With Your Life Besides Think About Yourself.”[2] Actually, there’s some truth in that title. Sometimes we are too serious. We need to lighten up. We need to learn to play and enjoy life. That’s the theme of my message on this 4th of July weekend: enjoy life and play!
Sermon (After Scripture Reading):
There was a congregational meeting in which the topic of money (or the lack thereof) came up. An elderly statesman of the church stood up and complained about the lack of commitment. “We need to be willing to pull our share; the Christian life is one of suffering and sacrifice.” He concluded his speech, pleading “We need members who are willing to pick up their cross.” Many nodded their heads in agreement, but there were a few who were uncomfortable. A younger woman stood timidly and challenged the older member with Jesus’ words: “I come so you might have life and have it abundantly.”
Do you feel the tension between these two positions? The older member demands sacrifice while the younger member wants to enjoy the life promised by our Savior. Both positions can be “proved” by scripture. Both are valid. We must live within the tension of the two.
This is a beautiful world God has created. We’ve been placed here to enjoy it. Think about all the good things we enjoy. We should relish life, each other, and our Lord. Life is a joyful dance and we should make the most of it. Of course, that doesn’t mean that we shouldn’t sacrifice, but there should be joy in our giving since God has given us so much.
Children, if given a half a chance, know how to enjoy life. Even in poverty, you see kids laughing. Have you ever watched a child act like they were mowing the yard when you were out sweating and pushing a mower? The child pushes their own Fisher-Price popcorn mower back and forth, just like you’re doing under the hot sun. Perhaps you remember being like this as a kid? I couldn’t wait until I was old enough to mow the yard. That desire lasted about three weeks after I was old enough to mow. At that point, I decided growing up wasn’t such a big deal.
Kids play games. It’s fun. Think about your childhood. You could be a real cowboy without having to shovel manure. You could be soldier without being shot at or a nurse without having to dump bedpans. Children have a wonderful view of the world. They enjoy acting like grown-ups, and that’s okay. The problem arises when it goes the other way.
The way children act like they are “grown-ups” sheds light onto this parable of Jesus. In the passage, Jesus refers to a game played by kids in a village marketplace. The kids act like adults at a wedding or at a funeral. If it’s to be a wedding, one child plays a flute and the rest dance together in a circle. Or, if they act out a funeral, they cry and pound on their breasts in mourning.
Jesus said that people of his generation were like children who refused to join the game. Imagine the marketplace. Sometimes, you know, children refuse to get involved. Maybe because they don’t know the other children, or they’ve been picked on. It’s a sad thing to see a child standing to the side watching other kids enjoying themselves. And yet, once these children get into the game, something magical happens. They forget their apprehensions and have a great time. Jesus tells us that those who refused to hear his call are like children who refuse to get involved. By not participating, they missed out on the fun. We adults can be like this when we take things too seriously.
Jesus goes on to say that John the Baptist, the guy who lived off insects in the wilderness and dressed like a “deadhead,” is rejected as being a demon. John lived a rigorous life and people don’t want to hear about that. Sin and repentance are never been popular topics. So along comes Jesus who enjoys life. Jesus, it appears, never turns down an invitation to a party… Think about the weddings and banquets Jesus attends. Jesus enjoys the company of people and the pleasures of food and drink. This leads some people to call Jesus a glutton and drunkard. And they criticized him for the friends he hung around: tax collectors like Matthew and other obvious sinners like the fallen woman who dried his feet with her hair. Talk about a way to develop a reputation. Imagine the gossip when word got around about that scene.
There is a “Catch-22” situation here. Folks reject John because he lives without comfort and they reject Jesus because he enjoys life. Most people of Jesus’ generation wanted nothing to do with either one. They are too busy in their own little worlds to join the dance. But Jesus invites us all to join him. He invites us to live and really experience life. Are we ready for it? Are we willing to cast away our doubts and our troubles and to enjoy what we have been given?
In Joseph Girzone’s parable of Jesus, titled Joshua, he writes:
Jesus came to earth to try to free people from the kind of regimented religion where people are threatened if they don’t obey rules and rituals… Jesus came to teach people that they are God’s children and, as God’s children, they are free, free to grow as human beings, to become beautiful people as God intended. That can’t be legislated. Jesus gave the apostles and the community as a support to provide help and guidance and consolation. Jesus did not envision bosses in the worldly sense. He wanted his apostles to guide and serve, not to dictate and legislate like those who govern this world.[3]
This passage encourages us to enjoy life—something we tend to do around Independence Day. We need to have fun, enjoy the summer. We should live that first beautiful statement in the Westminster Catechism, which defines our purpose as “enjoying God forever.” Horace Bushnell, a 19th Century American theologian wrote during the dark days of the Civil War, “Religion must be a form of play—a worship offered, a devotion paid, not for some ulterior end, but as being its own end and joy.”[4] Yes, we need to be concerned for sin, but not too concerned. Jesus came to free us up to live.
Now, let me talk a bit about sin. You know, there are basically two kinds. If you were present here in the sanctuary and I could ask you to name some sins, you might begin your list with the favorite sins of your neighbors: adultery, stealing, murder, greed, not wiping your feet before entering the house, forgetting an anniversary, and so on. But all sin can be grouped into two categories. The classical form of sin is that of pride which comes from our desire to be God. That’s Eve eating the fruit because the serpent told her she would have the knowledge of God. It’s the same sin we all commit when we live as if we are the ultimate authority. We’re all guilty.
The other kind of sin is the opposite. The first type of sin was trying to be God, the second type is not living up to our God-given potential. In other words, we do not become the person God created us to be. Not enjoying the life that God has given us falls into this category of sin. In the parable, this is the child who doesn’t join in the game the children are playing.
So, let’s all be playful and enjoy God. Don’t sit on the sidelines. Join in the dance. Enjoy life and live up to the potential God has given us. Doing so, we fulfill our purpose. Not only do we bring God glory, I expect we bring a smile to God’s face. Think about it, God, like a parent, smiling while watching his child play with others. Amen.
[1] Acts 9:2.
[2]“Calvin and Hobbes” this comic appeared on June 6, 1993.
[3]Joseph F. Girzone, Joshua: A Parable for Today (NY: Macmillan, 1987) pp. 73-4.
[4] Horace Bushnell, Work and Play; or, Literary Varieties (New York: Charles Scribner, 1861), 21-22. As quoted by Leonard Sweet, The Jesus Prescription for a Healthy Life (Abingdon, 1996), 52.
Michael P. Cohen, Granite and Grace: Seeking the Heart of Yosemite (Reno: University of Nevada, 2019), 220 pages. A few hand drawn maps and line drawings at the top of each chapter by Valerie Cohen.
When most people think of Yosemite, they think of the valley with its huge waterfalls and sheer-faced granite cliffs where, at night, you can see the flashlights of climbers’ bivouac in hammocks slung along the rock walls. But there is another side of Yosemite. This part of the park is high above the valley and surrounds Tuolumne Meadows. The top of the park is also granite, mostly sculptured by glaciers. It is here, in a series of essays, that Cohen focuses his study of the rock that made the park so famous. For nearly three decades, Cohen taught at Southern Utah University. During the summer, he and his wife would leave the sandstone of the Colorado River Plateau for June Lake, on the backside of Yosemite. The two of them have been coming to Yosemite since childhood. Early in their life together, Michael worked as a climbing guide in the park while Valerie worked as a summer ranger. Now in his 70s and no longer climbing the steep pitches, Cohen reflects on a lifetime living around Yosemite.
Granite and Grace centers around a series of essays that are often told from the point of view of a walker/hiker/climber in Yosemite. As Cohen recounts walks and climbs, he branches out to discuss various rock formations. Within these essays, he covers the geology of granite, how it was formed under the earth and is often found at the edge of continents. He writes about how the science around granite has changed especially within increase understanding of plate tectonics. He discussed the makeup of granite and why it’s appreciated by builders and climbers for its toughness. I had to laugh in appreciation of Cohen’s fondness for granite as he speaks of eating many meals upon it, but not wanting it as a countertop. (Granite does contain some radioactive minerals and houses built on granite have to be carefully constructed to avoid radon gas buildup). The reader will learn the role of ice in shaping the granite found in Yosemite’s high country. Weaving into his personal quests and the science behind granite, Cohen draws from a variety of literary sources. He quotes authors like John Muir and Jack Kerouac, poets such as Gary Snyder and Robinson Jeffers, and recalls songs from Paul Simon and Jefferson Airplane. While the book is part memoir that mixes in geology and literary interests, at its deepest, it is a philosophical exploration of an individual trying to understand a small section of the world.
In the concluding paragraph of the last chapter before the epilogue, Cohen writes a lyrical paragraph about granite’s “otherness and freedom.” His opening sentence, “I am attracted to granite and intimidated—especially by its textures—precisely because it is not flesh,” sets the stage for reflecting on how the “otherness” of this rock that doesn’t care or care if you care can provide a sense of peace. I was reminded of the last line in Norman McLean’s novella, A River Runs Through It. While Mclean finds peace at being in the river’s waters that gathers all that is, Cohen finds peace in that seemingly solid rock which is totally foreign and indifferent. Both views, I think, are valuable in our understanding the complexity of the human experience.
I recommend this book for anyone wanting to know more about Yosemite (this is not stuff you’ll find in guidebooks). There is something for most everyone in these pages. If you’re curious about geology, there are insights. If you want to know who we relate to the world in which we find ourselves, you’ll find parts that will speak to you.. Cohen is a deep thinker who searches for the precise word to describe his thoughts. In reading the book, if you’re like me, you’ll pull out the dictionary (or google) to look up many of his words. And, if you’re also like me, you’ll want to go back to Yosemite. His description of the Dana Plateau (which was an island above the impact of glaciation) made me realize there are places I still need to explore.
I was given a copy of this book by the author (see below) but was not compelled to write a review. This is the fourth book I’ve read by Cohen.
Michael Cohen along the John Muir Trail, 1997
A Personal Note: My first visit to Yosemite was in 1985, thirty years after Cohen’s first visit. I had flown to San Francisco where my girlfriend at the time was in grad school. We drove to Yosemite for a few days. I was amazed as we snaked up the road that parallels the Merced River. By the time we got into the park, I had used up all my film and had to buy expensive film in a park store to continue photographing the amazing sights. It was between Thanksgiving and Christmas and was snowing. The next morning, while my girlfriend spent the day inside the cozy cabin reading and preparing for exams, I laced up my boots headed out at daybreak. I hiked up toward Nevada Falls. It was amazing (I again ran out of film). Along the way, I met a hiker with a loaded pack. He had skis and crampons strapped to his pack that was filled with winter camping gear and provisions. He was heading up over the top to Tuolumne Meadows where he planned to ski along the highway and down Tioga Pass to Lee Vining. There, he was going to be picked up three days later. I was intrigued. Tuolumne Meadows was beckoning me like Eden.
I have been back to the park a half-dozen times since 1985 and, with one exception, I have always come into the park from the east, into Tuolumne Meadows. When another guy and I completed our hike of the John Muir Trail, Michael Cohen (the author) joined us near Devil Post Pile. As I was living in Cedar City at the time, I had gotten to know Cohen when I audited his class on creative non-fiction. Michael hiked with us for several days as we made our way down Lyell Canyon and into the Meadows. Wanting to avoid the crowds of Yosemite Valley, Michael’s wife Valerie picked him there, while the two of us continued on for another two nights into the valley. When most people think of the park, they think of Yosemite Valley with its huge waterfalls, sheer granite cliffs, and hordes of tourist. Few make it over to Tuolumne Meadows. Cohen’s book will help those who only travel through the valley understand what they missed in the high country.
Michael also appears in another book I reviewed in this blog, Rebecca Solnit’s Wanderlust: A History of Walking.
Alice Outwater, Water: A Natural History (New York: Basic Books, 1996) 212 pages with index and notes. Line drawings by Billy Brauer.
In this collection of what seems to be independent essays, the author describes the history and evolution of water in North America. She begins with the fur trade and nature’s engineers, the beaver. In subsequent chapters, she writes about prairie dogs, buffaloes, alligators, freshwater shellfish, as well as the forests and grasslands. She explores the path of rainfall and how its been altered as we have altered the environment. She discusses the role of the toilet and sewer systems. Toward the end of the book (175ff), Outwater brings together all these seemingly diverse ideas as she discusses our attempts to “save the environment.” She points out the fallacy in many environmental efforts. We attempt to preserve an “endangered species… as if they were items in a catalog… [while] missing the larger ecological picture.” (181). At first, I was wondering where Outwater was going with these essays as they seemed to be independent of one another, but by the end of the book, I understood her point. She encourages us to see how the natural work really does work together.
Water: A Natural History is really a history of human impact upon the waters of North America (mainly the United States). Outwater recalls how we have misused our water and are now changing our views and our behavior as we strive to clean up our rivers and streams. She appears optimistic even while acknowledging there is more to be done. And example of her optimism is from seeing how the non-native zebra mussel, which was introduced by an ocean-going ship into the Great Lakes, is taking over the role of native mussels that have been wiped out by human activity. Having lived in the Great Lakes region for a decade, I know her view isn’t shared by many who see the zebra mussel as problematic.
Much of the concluding chapters of this book comes from Outwater’s work as an environmental engineer in the Boston Harbor cleanup project. Her writing is clear and concise. She caused me to ponder much about water and how we depend on it. I would recommend this book to anyone interested in one of things necessary for life—water. And I also find her name, “Outwater” to be appropriate for someone who writes on the topic! This is my second book by Outwater. I had previously reviewed her book, Wild at Heart which also covers many of these same themes.
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
June 21, 2020
Matthew 10:16-33
How many of you are afraid? I wish I could see a show of hands. Most of us, I expect, have them raised. After all, we’re dealing with a pandemic, a struggling economy, the highest unemployment in ninety years, and renegade police officers involved in unjustified deaths leading to unrest in our cities. For those of us who are fathers, we worry about our children making it in this world. There’s a lot of reasons for fear, but what if I told you that we’re probably living in one of the safest times in history. Yes, COVID-19 is a threat, but look at the illnesses we don’t have to deal with these days: polio, smallpox, and a host of childhood diseases. Yes, there have been some police officers who have done bad things and there is unrest in some streets, but overall violence is down (and has been dropping for decades). And the economic issues have more to do with the struggle to supply what is needed and a drop in demand as people try to avoid the virus. In the long run, we may end up with a less vulnerable supply chain, which could be a good thing.
So why are we afraid? If we step back, we would see that fear often has little to do with risk. And often what we most fear isn’t what’s most likely to affect us. But fear sells. Fear is a basic instinct. It’s a primal reaction.[1] Because it’s such a gut reaction, fear is used in a way for someone else to make a profit on us. Crime’s up, so you better buy an alarm system or a gun. We fear rejection, so we use the right deodorant and toothpaste and drive the right car and wear clothes that are in style.
A dozen years ago, there was an eye-opening book published. Following Jesus in a Culture of Fear spends the first chapter discussing the “profit-making bias” that results in us being continually fearful. Sometimes even the church is guilty. Fear can be used to increase offerings or, as in the Left Behind Series, in an attempt to scare us into heaven.[2]
But what does our faith say about our fear? What does Scripture say to us about fear? You know, when an angel appears before people in the Bible, their first words are often something like “Fear not.”[3] “Yeah, right,” I’d think, “if it was me, I’d be shaking in my boots”. But think about it, there’s something to be said about having angels around and not fearing. We should rejoice. Their presence shows that the God of Creation is interested in us. God trying to connect to us is a comforting thought. If God cares enough to send an angel my way, instead of (let’s say) a lightning bolt, at least there’s a chance everything will be okay. We’re in good hands. This is the point Jesus is making in our text which could be titled, “Trouble and Trust.”[4] Yep, there’s going to be trouble. But we’re to trust God that, in the end, things will be okay.
Because God is the creator and has power over life and death, we’re to stand in awe… Others whom we encounter in this life may have half the power of God—the power to destroy—but God has the power to destroy and to create. If we’re on God’s side, there is nothing anyone else can do to us that God cannot undo. The resurrection is the ultimate act.
However, a healthy dose of fear is a good thing. Fear keeps us from taking foolish risks. Even the best rock climber will be fearful of clicking onto a frayed rope. You don’t want to tempt fate, or as Jesus said to the Devil during his temptation in the wilderness, “Do not put the Lord your God to the test.”[5] A healthy dose of fear can help us be safe, but too much fear becomes a problem because it leads us to inaction. And with 24-hour news, feeding us fear day and night, it’s amazing anyone gets anything done. The problem of too much fear is that it keeps us from taking risks, and if we don’t risk, we have no need of faith or trust.
In our passage for this morning, Jesus is preparing the disciples for the troubles they’ll face once he’s gone. There’ll be persecutions and lots of reasons for the disciples to be afraid. They’ll be hauled into court and flogged and betrayed and even face death. But Jesus doesn’t want them to be paralyzed into inactivity. Jesus is depending on this motley group of followers to spread the good news. He promises the Spirit will speak through them. The disciples must be willing to proclaim God’s word from the housetops. This is risky business.
In an Empire that will see the church as a threat, Jesus gives them reasons not to fear the powerful. First, at judgment, all things will be revealed. Martyrs can say, “I told you so.” But let’s face it, the promise our concerns will be addressed after the grave isn’t all that reassuring. So, then Jesus tells them not to fear those who will take their lives, but to fear God. After all, God has power over not just this life, but life after judgment. If you think about what Jesus is saying here, you’ll see because the disciples believe, they’re freed to do great things. They’re not afraid of death. All of us will die, but eventually many of them died at the hands of persecutors. Some, like Peter and Andrew, were crucified; Stephen was stoned; and Paul and John the Baptist literally lost their heads.
By refusing to be paralyzed by fear while trusting in God’s goodness, we can achieve more than we’ve ever imagined. Recall the Parable of the Talents.[6] The man who received only one talent and refused to take risk, because he was afraid of his master, is punished. Those who took risks are rewarded with even more talents. It’s that way with us. If we invest the talents God has given us, for godly purposes, God will bless our efforts. If we hoard our talents, we will be judged harshly.
“You’re to trust in God,” Jesus tells his audience, “whose concern extends even to the lowest sparrow.” Jesus must have been an animal lover. This passage is filled with animals: sheep and wolves, serpents and doves, and sparrows.[7] Or maybe it’s the little things in creation that brings Jesus joy. Think about this, a sparrow at the temple in Jesus’ day could be purchased for next to nothing. If God is so concerned for the small parts of his creation, think of how much more concern God will show us, the pinnacle of his creation. To further emphasize God’s concern, we’re told that God has counted even the hairs on our heads (with some of our heads, God has an easier time).
In verse 32, Jesus returns to his rationale for us not being afraid. He doesn’t want us to become so scared that we slip into inactivity. That’s why he reminds us that our purpose is to be his ambassadors, shouting from the rooftops (at least, metaphorically). The warning here is that if we are unwilling to risk letting others know of our faith, we run an even greater risk that Jesus will not acknowledge us before the Father.
The gospel still puts people at danger. Yet Jesus calls us to take risks. “To those whom much is given, much is expected,” we’re told.[8] And we’ve been given a bounty, and if we fail to take a risk and use it in a worthy way, we’ll have something to fear when all is revealed! Furthermore, as Christians, we’re called to a higher standard. We’re to speak out when we see people being abused or being taken advantage of. We’re to call for justice and mercy and to stand up against those who bully and abuse. By keeping quiet, we may avoid the wrath of a boss or friends, but is that what Jesus want us to do? As we see in this passage, keeping quiet can cause us to run a greater risk: experiencing God’s wrath…
When Jesus is first in our lives, we will have the courage necessary to stand up to the powers in the world that challenge his authority. When he’s first in our lives, we can take the risk needed to expand his kingdom, for we know that we’re taking that risk with the God of Creation on our side.
Do not be afraid of anything earthly, we’re told. If we trust God, there is no reason for us to fear anything else. If we don’t trust and fear God, then everything may be feared. Amen.
©2020
[1] Scott Bader-Saye, Following Jesus in a Culture of Fear (Grand Rapids: Brazos Press, 2007), 16.
[2] Ibid.
[3] See Matthew 1:20; Luke 1:30 and 2:10.
[4] Frederick Dale Bruner, The Christbook: Matthew 1-12 (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1994). 471-492. Bruner divides this passage into trouble (Verses 16-23) and trust (verse 24-39).
[5] Matthew 4:7.
[6] Matthew 25:14-30.
[7] Bruner, 484-485.
[8] Luke 12:48.
As Father’s Day is this weekend…
Fishing off the jetty at Cape Lookout on a foggy day
It’s not true that I’m crazy about fishing. I enjoy it, but mostly I enjoy being outdoors and fishing is one way to fulfill such a desire. My father, however, is crazy about fishing. Most of what he taught me about life came through the lens of this sport.
We moved “Down East” when I was nine years old. “Down East” in North Carolina means on or near the coast. My parents had always wanted to live near the ocean and when my father got an opportunity to transfer to the area, he took it. Dad quickly learned the art of fishing for flounder and taught my brother and me. We spent hours on the rising tide, fishing for flounder at Masonboro Inlet. Although such fishing may not be as graceful as using a fly rod, it requires at least as much skill.
My father, as a teen, fishing on the Linville River
Dad taught us to tie our own rigging, using an 18 inch piece of light wire with a triple hook on one end and a one ounce torpedo sinker on the other. The rigging was attached to the line of a lightweight spinning rod. A live minnow, which we generally caught with throw nets (another acquired skill), was hooked through the lips. Walking in knee deep water armed with a light spinning rod we’d cast the line out into the depths, searching for holes where a flounder might be hidden. The line was slowly retrieved, the weight keeping the minnow near the bottom where flounders lay. You carefully felt for tell-tell bumps on your line, indicating a flounder taking the bait. When that happened, you’d loosen the drag and give the flounder about a minute to take the minnow into its mouth, before yanking the line in order to set the hook. If you prematurely yanked the line, you’d pull the minnow out of the mouth of the flounder. From such fishing, we learned patience. Hurrying only caused you to miss fish.
Fishing off the jetty at Wrightsville Beach ~2010
Shortly after we moved to the area, Dad brought a 14 foot johnboat with a six horsepower Evinrude outboard motor. For years, that was the only boat he had and it was perfect for navigating the creeks running behind Masonboro Island, a nine mile long barren strip of beach that stretched from Masonboro Inlet to Carolina Beach Inlet. He’d take us fishing on the beach for founder on the rising tide and for Bluefish during the fall run. The island became like a second home. Since the creeks only have water in them on high tide, a fishing trip that was more than an hour or two committed you for at least half a day. Often, we’d make a two day trip, camping overnight. In the fall, at low tide, we’d collected oysters and in the evening roast them over coals. At times, breakfast consisted of roasted bluefish.
At the helm while fishing offshore, 2010
On one of our overnight fishing expeditions, my dad hooked a huge fish on a heavy surf rod. For nearly an hour he fought the fish, as he’d get it almost up into the surf only to have it run back out into the ocean. Finally, he beached the largest Red Drum I’ve seen. The tide had already dropped and there was no way we could get the fish back to the mainline till the next morning. My dad knew the fish might be close to a record, but since he couldn’t get it to a weight station, and since our cooler wasn’t large enough to hold it, he gutted the fish, stuffed ice in its hollowed cavity, and buried it in the sand. The next morning, we dug the fish up and took it to be weighed. Even after being gutted and drying out a bit overnight, the fish still weighed 47 pounds, just a couple pounds shy of the season’s record. My father stoically accepted fate. If he had been able to get the fish to the marina the day before, he might have set the record. However, if it bothered him, he never let on to it. Another lesson taught by action, you don’t complain about things you have no control over. This, by the way, included mosquitoes and sand gnats and the weather. There was no need to complain about the obvious.
Paddling in the Okefenokee. A good son would have warned his dad instead of waiting to catch a photo of when he discovered the alligator
My father seldom spoke of the beauty of it all, but the times I spent on the beach with him instilled in me an awe of creation. I’ve seen more sunrises and moonrises on the ocean that I can count. I’ve watched many sunsets behind the marsh grass of the Myrtle Grove Sound. I taught myself early the names of the stars, especially the autumn sky, since fishing was best in the fall. There’s nothing more majestic than watching Orion’s belt rise above the ocean on a moonless night. Enjoying the outdoors was something he taught silently.
My dad and mom on Gun Luke in Michigan, 2008
Over the past fifteen years, I’ve seen another new side of Dad as he cared for his wife, my mom, as her mind and mobility slowly disappeared due to Alzheimer’s. Mom and Dad were sweethearts in high school and have been together ever since. He goes down to the nursing home where my mother lives to feed her breakfast every morning. While they have restricted most guests because of the COVID-19 pandemic, they still let my father come in and feed my mom even though she no longer acknowledges him or anyone. In these latter years, my father, through his commitment, is silently displaying grace and love and is an example for all who are around him.
A few years ago with my sister presenting my father a cake at his 80th (or was it his 08th?) birthday dinner at the Pirate’s Table in Wilmington, NC.
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
June 14, 2020
Matthew 9:35-10:15
We made Blood Mountain Shelter on our third day of hiking. Reuben and I had started at Springer Mountain in North Georgia. After resting a bit, we set out to fix dinner. By this point, we’d hiked 100s of miles together and formed a well-oiled team. I hauled water from the spring while Reuben got out the stove and started to assemble it. In a large gallon Ziploc bag, I poured the contents of instant pudding, powdered milk, and water. I kneaded the bag by hands till the lumps were gone and then walked back to the spring to place the bag in the cool water to set up. Reuben started boiling water as I opened soup packs for each of our cups. He started the noodles and we chatted and enjoyed a drink while they cooked.
About this time another hiker came to the shelter. Paul looked to be an old man, but he was much younger than I am now. He’d been on the trail for six days, covering the distance we’d covered in two and a half days. He’d gotten lost earlier this day which explained why we hadn’t meet him when we passed along the trail. His pack was heavy; his knees were killing him. He didn’t look like he was having fun. Paul plopped down and began to prepare his dinner as he watched us. Reuben poured the water from the noodles into the cups, so that we had soup. We mixed in the ingredients for mac and cheese, which we ate next, followed by pudding for dessert. As we ate dessert, we put another pot of water for tea and clean up. We used our tea bags to scrub out our bowls. Paul watched in amazement, we had only what we needed and nothing was wasted.
Paul was a schoolteacher from Oregon and planned to spend his summer hiking. He’d done a little camping in his life, but had never backpacked. Gathering what he thought he needed and had taken a flight to Georgia and was walking through the woods with a 70-plus pound pack on his back, twenty or twenty-five pounds more than what we were toting.
The next morning when we set out, Paul asked where we were going to camp for the night. For us, it was going to be an easy day, even though there wasn’t anything easy about the trail in Georgia. There’s little ridge line in the southern part of the Appalachians; although the hills aren’t tall, you are either going up or down. We gave him our destination, a campsite by a stream about 13 miles north. We said goodbye and thought that’d be the last we’d see of him. We were surprised later that day when he hobbled into camp. That night we went through our dinner routine again and Paul started asking more questions. Before the evening was done, Reuben and I had given him tips on hiking, on food, and most importantly dug through his pack and showed him how to lighten his load by a at least fifteen pounds. To our amazement, he was carrying a hatchet and a folding saw, yet had not built a single fire. It was too hot. He had a stove. Scalping, I assured him, was no longer in vogue, so the axe could go. He had extra clothes and cooking utensils and all sort of stuff that he could get by without. The following day, when we were met by friends for a food drop, we arranged for Paul’s extras to be mail home. With his load lighter, Paul began to enjoy hiking.
The ninth chapter of Matthew’s gospel ends with Jesus telling the disciples that the fields are ripe with the harvest, but the laborers are few. “Ask the Lord,” Jesus says, “to send laborers out into the harvest.” Mission begins in prayer. This plea is answered in the tenth chapter where the Master’s plan is set in place with Jesus commissioning the disciples to go out on their own and do the work of the kingdom. For the past five chapters, Jesus had been preparing the disciples. Now, their apprentice ends. They’ll get a chance to live out their call to be fishers of men and women (although Jesus’ shifted metaphors as they are sent as farmers reaping the harvest).
When Jesus sends the disciples, he insists they go light. No extra clothes, no extra gear, no extra food, and no extra cash. They go by themselves, taking only the blessing Jesus bestowed upon them. They are to learn first-hand that Jesus is sufficient—he has given them power over evil as well as the ability to bring healing to those who are sick and to bring to life those who are dead. Going out without possessions, they will be continually reminded that they are dependent upon God and the generosity of others. Furthermore, they would be continually reminded that they are working for Jesus.
Jesus advice to the disciples is to start in their own neighborhoods. The mission to the Gentiles will come later; they first must take the message to the Jones and Smiths who live down the street. As they travel, they’re to live modestly and with the people. They are to be gracious and content with what they’re offered. They’re to “be courteous.” They’re not out to bring judgment or to browbeat folks, they’re just to go about helping people and sharing with them the good news that the Savior has come. If they’re not welcomed, they’re not to make big deal about it, they’re just to move on to the next neighborhood, not taking it as a failure. They’re not to mope around showing disappointment.
There are many things we can learn about mission from this story. First, it’s interesting who Jesus has called. The twelve disciples are all ordinary folk, including as our text points out, the one who would betray Jesus. They are not going out on their own skills, but with Jesus’ blessings, which makes the difference.
Another thing we learn that the world isn’t how it should be. We know this is true. If there was any question about it, the last few months dispelled our doubts. But at this point in the First Century, Rome had beaten all its enemies, and those who thought world peace had come. Of course, Jesus sees problems. There are people suffering. Jesus is compassionate. He realizes the struggle many face, especially the poor and slaves. Many are battling demons and the powers of evil. Many are grief-filled, or hurting physically and emotionally. Jesus’ plan is to turn the world upside down, offering grace and hope that can only come from God.
We also learn here the importance of mission for the church. It’s essential. It’s our purpose. We’re not here just to praise God, although that’s important. We’re not just here to sooth folks concerns by proclaiming forgiveness through Jesus Christ, although that’s important. We’re not just here to provide a safe haven for Christians to gather and be in fellowship (when there’s no pandemic), although that’s important. The church is called onto the mission field. For a few of us, that means going to exotic places. As we see here, the mission field starts at our doorstep. Jesus first sends the disciples into their own neighborhoods, to their own people. It’s not that Jesus isn’t interested in other people, but first he wants to solidify his base. As we saw last week, Matthew ends his gospel with Jesus commissioning the disciples to go to the ends of the world. Mission starts locally but extends globally. As Christians and followers of Jesus, we can’t ignore either group. To say that we only do mission locally is just as much of a travesty as to say mission is only what we do for those who live across salt water.
A final truth I want us to consider is that mission involves more than just telling people about Jesus. You know, Reuben and I could have spent all day telling Paul about how much fun we had backpacking and it wouldn’t have made any difference. It was only by helping him go through his gear and showing him how to lighten his load were we able to help. It’s the same with our calling as disciples. We’re not to just share the good news; we’re to demonstrate godly values in our lives and to show others how it can make a difference. That famous saying attributed to Francis of Assisi, “preach the gospel, if necessary, use words,” comes to mind. As the 18th verse reads, “you’ve been treated generously, so live generously.” Doing is just as important as telling, as Jesus makes clear in this passage. He didn’t give the disciples golden words to woo people; he gave them the ability to minister, to heal, and to confront evil.
This is still our goal. Live simply and generously, ministering to the needs of others. In other words, let the love of Jesus flow from your hearts, and be gracious. These days, the world can use a little help. Let’s flood it with grace. Amen.
Works consulted:
Bruner, Frederick Dale, The Christbook: Matthew 1-12 (Grand Rapids, MI:
Eerdmans, 2004).
Gundry, Robert H., Matthew: A Commentary on His Literary and Theological Art (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1982.
Hare, Douglas R. A., Matthew: Interpretation, A Commentary for Teaching and Preaching (Louisville: John Knox Press, 1992).
©2020 Jeff Garrison
Steven Pressfield, Gates of Fire: An Epic Novel of the Battle of Thermoplyae (New York: Bantan Books, 1998), 386 pages.
I thoroughly enjoyed this novel that is based on ancient Greek historians’ writings, especially Herodotus. The story is told through the eyes of Xeones, who was from the city of Akarnania. He alone had been found barely alive after the Persians wiped out the small Greek contingent conducting a delaying tactic against the much larger Persian army at Thermoplyae. Thermoplyae (the hot gates) is a narrow pass that received its name from the hot springs in the mountains. Xerxes, the Persian king had his surgeons work hard to save Xeones so he could learn more about Greece and the bravery of the 300 Spartan soldiers had shown at the pass. Xeones insist that he was just an aide to a Spartan officer, but would tell what he knew. He begins the story from his youth, when his city of birth was destroyed by another Greek city. He and his older cousin, Diomache, were able to escape (even though Diomache is raped several times by enemy soldiers), but as they made their way to the hills they learned how to survive in a cruel world. Xerxes wants to go to Sparta with the hopes of becoming a warrior and defeating his enemies. Later, while they are living off the land with Bruxies, an old man from their city, Xeones is caught at a farm and his hand is nailed so that he no longer is able to hold a spear in the fashion of a Spartan warrior. He feels his life is over, but has a vision of Apollos who gives the vision of using the bow. His wounded hand can’t grasp a spear, but it can pull back the string and he becomes an excellent archer. Eventually, Bruxies dies and Xerxes and Diomache split up. Diomache heads to Athens and Xerxes to Sparta.
Once in Sparta, Xeones learns about the Sparta ways. While he will never be a part of the Sparta elite, he is chosen as partners to help young Sparta men in the rigorous training to become warriors. He becomes an aide to an officer, which places him at Thermoplyae. Pressfield does a wonderful job of providing a picture of Spartan society as Xeones tells his story to the Persians, as well as their preparations and the battles they fought as they kept the Persians from obtaining the pass for several days before failing after a group of Persians were led through the mountains and able to get behind the Greeks. The reader gains knowledge about Greek society, religion, and mythology roughly 500 years before the Common Era. However, the language of the warriors is often coarse and book describes a lot of violence (which was true of the time in which they lived).
Paul J. Willis, Rosing from the Dead: Poems (Seattle, WA: WordFarm, 2009) 99 pages.
This is a wonderful collection of poems by a professor from Westmont College in Santa Barbara, California. There are three sections of poetry, each about a “chapbook” length. In “Faith of our Fathers,” we learn the meaning of the author’s name, his interest in baseball and football, as well a beloved Sunday School teacher who “fell from grace.” In “Higher Learning,” the author writes about becoming more aware about life. There are poems about other professors, the library, language, the downhill road to bifocals (and a few pages later trifocals) and even a poem about smart classrooms. The third section, “Signs and Wonders” is my favorite. Most of these poems are set in the outdoors, whether in a backyard or deep in the wilderness. Most of the poems are in the American West, but a few are set at other places around the country. Willis has a keen eye to spot something unique and then to write about it. At places, the outside world slips in such as the hearing of a freight train during the night. Many of the poems are set at places that I find special like Telescope Peak, which rises high above the western rim of Death Valley. Willis is the only poet I know who can tie together “ripening ticks in the fall” and Advent.
I first read this collection in 2012. I had come to know Paul through the Festival of Faith and Writing at Calvin College in Grand Rapids. As a board member of Pierce Cedar Creek, an ecological center about 50 miles away, I encouraged Paul to do a reading. That day, before the reading, Paul and I hiked six or miles within the property. It was early spring, the skunk cabbage had pretty much played out. It was too early for there to be trilliums in bloom, but the May apples were appearing. That evening, Paul presented a poem he’d written that afternoon, after we’d take that hike, about what was happening in the bottom lands. It was good to revisit these poems.
Dave Moyer, Life and Life Only (New York: IUniverse, 2009), 188 pages.
I have mixed feelings about this book. It’s a wonderful story of Dan learning what’s important after several failures (as a pitcher after a career debilitating injury and a failed marriage). But I was disappointed in the writing, much of which felt I was just being old the facts and not being brought into the story. The book could have been greatly strengthened by more dialogue and narrative and less of a statement of what happened. At times, it felt like I was being told the details, but not shown the action. The author does tries to link world events that happened during the years of the book, which can be a very good way to show the passing of time, but it felt a little over the top and often as we were given lists of the things that happened in a given year. The book would have been strengthened if such events could have been woven into the story. The same is true of Bob Dillion songs. Dan is a Dillion fan. While some of the songs are worth listing, especially when they could be written into the narrative, a list of every song played in a concert was a little too much for me. However, like Dan, I agree that “Blind Willie McTell” is one of Dylan’s best. I also thought Moyer did a good job describing Savannah (of which I live just outside of), which is where Dan had played with a traveling ball team and a city he’d later travel to with his first wife. She was a Georgia Peace from Swainsboro (I’ve even been to Swainsboro). While Dan seemed to make a mess of things with his first wife after his arm problems kept him from pitching in the majors, he does get things right with his daughter and with his second wife.
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
Matthew 28:16-20
Trinity Sunday
June 7, 2020
To watch to this service, click here.
Disclaimer: Just because I use wheat bread and don’t use Hellmann’s Mayonnaise on tomato sandwiches doesn’t mean I’m a heretic, despite what members of my Bible Study think.
Introduction Before Worship:
Last Sunday was Pentecost. Today is Trinity Sunday. If you go by the liturgical calendar, this is the last “big” Sunday until we come to the end of the Pentecost season, when we are back at Advent. The Pentecost season, also called “ordinary time,” takes up the largest chunk of the church year. We’re reminded that our lives are mostly lived outside of feasts and holidays. Yes, there are times for big celebrations, but there are also normal times in which we live out our faith while doing the laundry, fixing dinner, paying the bills, or mowing the grass. But God is God of all. It’s all sacred, even the ordinary periods of life.
We enter this season on Trinity Sunday. The Trinity, this great mystery, reminds us that God is relational. The ceiling painting we’re using as our artwork today illustrates this. God relates, not just within the three persons of the Godhead. You can see the Trinity represented as the Father and the Son in the bottom along with the dove in the center. But these persons are surrounded by all kinds of heavenly and earthly beings. The Trinity also reminds us of God’s desire to bring more into this life—heavenly beings as well as human beings. The Trinity is about love—the love of the three persons within the Trinity as well as their love for all creation, as we’re embraced within the family. We live in a world of sin and only in God can there be true love so we need to accept the invite to come in close. As a Russian Orthodox meditation on the Trinity proposes, “outside the Trinity is hell.”[1]
The Trinity isn’t a philosophical or theological concept for us to master. We can’t fully comprehend such a mystery. Instead, we accept it along with the love God shows us. Today’s passage is the only place where Jesus uses the trinitarian formula, “Father, Son and Holy Spirit, which is from the end of Matthew’s gospel, chapter 28, verses 16-20.
This passage is known as “The Great Commission.” At the end of Matthew’s gospel, Jesus commissions his disciples to take over. We learn three important things here: Who’s the boss. What we’re called to do. What help we’ll have with our task at hand. We don’t learn much about the Trinity. But our faith is to be active. It’s more about doing than knowledge, and this passage is a call to action.
Many of the highlights of Matthew’s gospel occur on high places: mountains or hills. We have Jesus’ temptation, the Sermon on the Mount, the transfiguration, and even the crucifixion. Now, once more, Jesus calls the eleven remaining disciples up on a mountain in Galilee. They’re back in their old haunts, where their ministry had been focused, but up high, they are away from the crowds.
Interestingly, we’re told that the disciples worshipped Jesus even though some doubted. This is an important insight for those of us with doubts. Even some of the disciples doubted, but they listened and obeyed and followed Jesus. Accepting everything perfectly is not as important as doing the work for which we’re called.
With the remaining disciples gathered, Jesus tells them who’s boss. “All authority in heaven and earth have been given to me.” At the beginning of his ministry, the devil tempted Jesus on another mountain with authority over the earth, but now we learn that for the resurrected Christ, authority will extend far beyond that.[2] As the one in charge, Jesus is the one who can commission the disciples for the work at hand. And Jesus wastes no time issuing his orders. With four verbs—go, make, baptize, and teach— he sends them out to all nations.
Let’s unpack this a bit, first by looking at the destination, “all nations.” The promise to Abraham was for land and descendants, but Jesus owns all the world, so now the call is for all people, not just for a particular family. Jesus’ new family, the church, extends beyond national boundaries. While they may be national churches, there is no such place for an only American Christian, or a British Christian, or a Ugandan Christian. We are Christians, first and foremost. This idea of all nations means that our work isn’t limited to just people like us.[3] The gospel needs to be heard by everyone. Paul later captured this vision when he wrote, “there is no longer Greek or Jew, for we are all one in Jesus Christ.[4]
Yet, we’re still living in a divided world and, as from what we’ve seen over the past few weeks, there is much work to be done to overcome this. As believers in Jesus, we can’t condone the actions of a few men in Brunswick or a police officer in Minneapolis, each case leading to an unnecessary death.[5] As a people, we must cry out for justice. Our present world, in which the color of one’s skin means you’re treated differently, does not represent the image of what Christ envisions in Scripture.
Jesus calls us to make disciples. Interestingly, Jesus doesn’t say to go out and make Christians. Instead, we’re to make disciples, or students of Jesus Christ. Making disciples isn’t an instant conversion. It requires time.[6] Such folks may even have questions and doubts, as we see with the original disciples, but at the very least they are open to learning from the Master. As we make disciples, we baptize them in God’s three-fold name: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. In other words, those who sign up to learn from Jesus are connected to the Triune God. We’re part of that holy fellowship in which all followers are invited to join. And we’re to teach these people what Jesus commands. Being a follower of Christ means we strive to keep Jesus’ teachings. God gives us commandments as a way to help us live in a way that will be affirming of God and of our brothers and sisters. But people won’t know what those commandments are unless they are taught.
That’s right. People need to be taught. And judging a lot of what happening, it appears that before we go out into the world to teach, we need a refresher course in this country. We need to be taught that just because someone makes us uncomfortable because of the color of his skin, we can’t take the law in our own hands and attempt a “citizen arrest,” as a few men supposedly tried to do down in Brunswick back in February.
More recently, in Minnesota, we had a police officer attempting to arrest someone who may have passed a twenty dollar counterfeit bill (which he may or may not have known was counterfeit). Is a life only worth 20 bucks? George Floyd was already cuffed and subdued. He wasn’t a threat. Yet the officer kept his knee on his neck three minutes after he became unresponsive. Of course, looting and burning is not acceptable either, but where did this problem begin? It didn’t begin with protests, but with an officer doing an unthinkable act. Officers are supposed to protect and serve, but for at least a part of our population this isn’t their experience.
We’re living in trying times, but there is hope in this passage. In the last verse, after telling us that it’s our responsibility to make and baptize and teach disciples, Jesus reminds us that he will be with us till history comes to an end. Jesus is going to be with us wherever we go in this world to do the gospel’s work. That’s the hope we take with us as we challenge such injustice. We’re not alone. We’ll get through this trying time of pandemic and racial tensions if we can just remember the two essential things Jesus taught: Love God and love your neighbor.[7]
You know, I love my neighbors, but I also love a good tomato sandwich. During this time of the year, when I have tomatoes on the vine, I eat a tomato sandwich every day. I peel the tomatoes and then slice ‘em thick. They are juicy and messy. I take two slices of wheat bread, cover a side of each with Miracle Whip, grind some pepper over it, then lay on the tomatoes and create a sandwich. If I want to be uptown, I might add a little celery seed or some provolone cheese. Its good eating and I tell you this because our passage can be envisioned as a sandwich.[8] Outside, the two pieces of bread, are about Jesus—one slice of bread being his authority and the other being his promise to be with us. Inside the sandwich, the thick tomato, is our marching orders. As followers of Jesus, it’s not about us. We’re not about glorifying ourselves. We’re here to do the work of the one whose authority extends over all heaven and earth, the one who also promises to be with us. Because of Christ’s power and presence, we can boldly take risks for the sake of the triune God, who calls us into a community in order to send us out to make disciples.
In closing, let me encourage you to do two things. First, go to the Savannah Presbytery website and read our recent statement on racism.[9] Second, ask yourself: “What can I do to help people become curious about Jesus so they might desire to become a disciple?” Amen.
©2020
[1] Kathleen Norris, Amazing Grace: A Vocabulary of Faith (New York: Riverhead Books, 1998), 291.
[2] Matthew 4:8-10.
[3] See Frederick Dale Bruner, The Churchbook: Matthew 13-28 (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2004), 816-820.
[4] Galatians 3:28 (edited to focus on nationality)
[5] On June 3, 2020, the Savannah Presbytery made a statement about the Brunswick case and referred to the Minneapolis situation. See http://www.savannahpresbytery.org/savannah-presbytery-news-and-update/
[6] Bruner, 815-816.
[7] Matthew 22:34-40.
[8] The idea of this passage being a “sandwich comes from Bruner, 804.
[9] Look for the post from June 3, 2020: http://www.savannahpresbytery.org/savannah-presbytery-news-and-update/
Decked out in red with my Snoopy tie for the morning service
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
Acts 2:1-14
Pentecost, May 31, 2020
2020 is turning out to be a year we’ll not forget. Everything seems out of control. A virus has killed over 100,000 Americans topped off by an economy in a free-fall. We’ve witnessed the murders of innocent and unarmed black men in Brunswick and in Minneapolis, and the resulting riots threatening to unravel our nation. It’s scary. But the world has often been a scary place. For Christians, the world of the first century was scary. Jesus was essentially lynched and many more would also die a martyr’s death.[1] But out of that death came the church.
Something happened on this day nearly 2000 years ago. God’s Spirit poured down on the few believers and they began a movement. As I read this passage, think about what God did in Jerusalem, and what God might be doing in the world today. Read Acts 2:1-14.
There was an elderly woman who came home from a Bible study one evening and discovered a burglar in her home. In the darken house, she yelled at the intruder, “Stop, Acts 2:38.” The thief turned and she yelled again, “Stop, Acts 2:38.” He froze. He raised his hands as she calmly called the police. After the officer had handcuffed the man, he asked why he’d surrendered to a woman shouting out a Bible verse. “A Bible verse? I thought she had an axe and two 38s”.
Peter, after his great sermon, that follows the account we’ve just read, called on those within his hearing to “Repent, be baptized, every one of you in the name of Jesus Christ so that your sins may be forgiven and you will receive the power of the Holy Spirit.” Acts 2:38.
T
oo often, we think we need force to back up our words, or as in the joke, the possibility of force. But Scripture constantly reminds us our hope is not in what we do or what we have, but in what God has done and is doing in Jesus Christ. We see this with Pentecost, when those flames of the Spirit poured out on a motley group. God takes the initiative. Without God, our efforts are in vain.
As dawn broke on this day in which the church came into being, there were only 120 or so believers. From this small beginning, the Christian faith now claims approximately 1/3 of the world’s population. These “tongues of flames” fell upon the timid group of believers. Filled with God’s Spirit, they set the world on fire. When the morning began, they were like a car with no gas. They had a purpose, but no energy. So, they waited, knowing Jesus promised his Spirit.
These men and women are not the type of people you’d think could change the world. They’re marginalized. And, to be honest, they don’t change the world. That’s part of the point of the story. God’s the primary actor. Without God’s intervention, nothing would have happened. And the same is true in our lives. God can use us; we don’t have to be sophisticated or multi-talented. The disciples were not great leaders or thinkers, government officials or military heroes. What God needs are people who are faithful. These believers displayed their faithfulness. Many of them were faithful even unto death. With God, all things are possible.
The second aspect of Pentecost for us to consider is the linkage between the Old and New Covenant. Those who’d gathered on this morning, on the day of Pentecost, gathered to celebrate a Jewish holiday. The name Pentecost is derived from the festival held on the fiftieth day following Passover. The festival was also known as the Feast of the Weeks, the Feast of the Harvest, or the Day of the First Fruits. Originally it was when the grain harvest was formally dedicated, but over time the festival came to represent the giving of the law on Sinai, which, according to tradition, occurred fifty days after the Exodus from Egypt.
The two flames on our Presbyterian cross represent the two covenants—the Old and the New. The same is true for the two candles on our communion table. The flame of the Old Testament is the giving of the law on Sinai. The other flame represents the coming of the Holy Spirit on Pentecost when the Old Testament prophecy was fulfilled. God wrote the law onto the hearts of believers.[2]
To have the fullness of God’s word, to know God to the best of our limited human abilities, we must draw upon all of Scripture. The two covenants remind us of the mysterious nature of our God. What we know about God has been revealed to us by the Almighty, first in the Hebrew Scriptures and then, the final revelation, in the life of Jesus Christ. Again, God is the actor; God is the one engaging the world.
The final aspect of Pentecost for us to consider is how this event serves as a model for God’s intention for the world. Consider the group who’d gathered on this morning. They were all Palestinian Jews. First century Judaism was more multi-cultural than they were. They gather, a homogeneous lot, without an idea as to what will happen. Soon a violent wind destroys the morning calm. Luke describes the coming of the Spirit as a gale blowing into the house. Picture the curtains blowing, as they used to do in the days before air conditioning when a storm was rising. It was frightening. “What’s happening,” they wonder? Luke goes on to say that the wind was like tongues of fire; like a wildfire that gains momentum consuming all that’s around. And those who had gathered begin to speak, in all different kinds of languages.
In addition to celebrating the giving of the law, the Pentecost holiday was special for another reason. Passover was considered the “high holy day” for the first century Jewish faithful. But because it was such a long trip, many would stay through Pentecost and would have caught wind of what’s happening at this time.[3] We need to remember that by the first century, Jewish settlements had been established throughout the known world. This explains why there were so many different people in Jerusalem for this festival. They’d come to worship; they’d come with expectation. And here, as they’ve gathered in their ancestral homeland, people who were no longer fluent in Hebrew, begin to hear the gospel in their native languages.
Again, God is the one who is acting. The early disciples and believers who’d gathered weren’t sitting around scheming, trying to create a strategic plan of how the church would grow. And if they had been, you can bet they wouldn’t have even considered reaching such a diverse group of people as they did that day. After all, these people had a tradition of interacting only with those who looked and sounded and acted like they did. God is doing the work here. God’s vision is much larger than they could imagine. God is calling all people to hear the good news of Jesus Christ.
Friends, we live in an uncertain time. We must place our faith in God as revealed in Jesus Christ, and live humbly and compassionately, showing the world a different way to live with one another. Violence isn’t the answer. Love is. God loves this world and calls on his church to love the world. When we marginalize others, when we turn our heads at injustice, we fail to live up to our calling.
Let me tell you a story. I was in Ulaanbaatar, the capital of Mongolia and was walking with other tourists in the business section of the city. Across a four-lane road, coming toward us, was a man and woman. They were arguing. Then the man pulled back and hit the woman with his fist to her head, knocking her down. In shock, we looked at each other. Others had seen it, too, but no one except us-a group of English-speaking tourist-seemed fazed. We were outraged, yet never felt so helpless. If it had been an English-speaking country, we’d all been on the phone with the police. But here, few knew English and we couldn’t speak Mongolian. We needed those tongues of fire!
Pentecost shows us that not only does God show up, God gives us the tools needed to do the work for which we’re called. That motley group of disciples are able to preach in the languages of those gathered in Jerusalem. Today, we no longer have to wait for God to show up. God’s Spirit’s with us. Unlike Mongolia, in our country, in our neighborhood, most people understand us. We have no excuse. We must be compassionate toward those suffering from COVID-19. We should grieve the deaths of over 100,000 of our citizens, we need to do our part to keep the virus from spreading further, and we need to speak out against racial injustice. At Pentecost, God gave us a vision of the nations and people being brought together. It’s now our turn. We must help make the vision a reality. Amen.
©2020
[1] For a link between the cross and lynching, see James H. Cone, The Cross and the Lynching Tree (Orbis Books, 2011).
[2] Jeremiah 31:33.
[3] Beverly Roberts Gaventa, Acts (Nashville: Abingdon, 2003), 74-75
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
John 21:15-25
May 24, 2020
We’re finishing up our look at Jesus’ post-resurrection encounters this week with the ending to the passage we began studying last week. As I indicated on several occasions throughout this series, the post-resurrection encounters generally had a mission component. We’ll this today. The disciples were sent out to do something-Mary at the tomb was sent to tell the Apostles, and the disciples what we know as the Sea of Galilee, Jesus gives Peter a mission.
Again, I’m using a classical painting to illustrate our text. Today, the painting is by Raphael, an artist who painted just before and at the beginning of the Reformation. To put this in perspective, this tapestry was finished the year before Martin Luther posted the 95 Thesis and is titled, “Christ Charge to St. Peter.”[1] I like the painting because it shows the sea (and glimpses the bow of a boat) along with a flock of sheep. Peter, a fisherman, is being commissioned to tend to Jesus’ sheep. The other ten disciples (remember Judas is no longer with them) look on. However in John’s gospel, we’re told that there were only seven disciples present. Hear God’s word for today. Read John 21:15-25.
Some of you may know the Reverend Proctor Chambless. He’s a retired minister member of the Savannah Presbytery, and has served a number of congregations within our presbytery and across the South. When I came to this presbytery, Proctor was serving an interim position in another presbytery upstate. He wasn’t here. During the first person examined for ordination as a Minister of the Word and Sacrament at Presbytery, someone stood up and said that since Proctor wasn’t present, he was going to ask Proctor’s question. The question: “Do you love Jesus?” The presbytery, as a body, snickered. I realized I wasn’t in on the joke. I asked someone about this and was told that Proctor always asked that question. When Proctor returned, I figured out who he was before I met him. We had another candidate to examine and Proctor stood and asked this question. It’s kind of a fun thing. The rest of us are thinking probing questions to prod the examinee on the fine points of Reformed Theology, as Proctor, with his deep southern drawl, asks the essential question. “Do you love Jesus?” That’s the question Jesus asks Peter three times. And it’s a question we’re all to ask ourselves. Furthermore, as we’re going to see when we delve into this text, there is one way of knowing that we love Jesus. Do we care for others?
Let’s look at the text. Throughout this chapter, Peter is in the forefront. He’s the one who decides to go fishing. The other six disciples tag along. He’s the one, when he learns it’s Jesus on the shore, jumps into the water and swims to Jesus, letting the six others fight with a full net of fish. Now that breakfast is over, Jesus questions Peter in a way that almost seems as if he’s being commissioned or ordained for his task once Jesus has ascended to heaven. We’re not told this, but I image Jesus drawing Peter away from the rest of the disciples and putting his hand on this shoulder, saying “Simon, son of John.”
Jesus uses his full legal name. “Simon, son of John.” Did any of you have parents, or maybe a teacher, who when you were in trouble, would use your full name? “Charles Jeffrey!” I would hear that and immediately knew I had done something wrong. Was Peter in trouble? I don’t think so. But Jesus emphasizes the importance of his questioning. When someone uses your full name, it grabs your attention. Jesus asks Peter if he loves him more than these. We can assume Jesus is pointing over toward the other disciples. We’re told that Peter, in two of the gospels, brags at the Last Supper about how much more he loves Jesus than the others, so much so that he’ll never abandon Jesus.[2] Of course, pride comes before the fall, and later that night Peter denies Jesus three times.
Now, after everything that has happened—the betrayal, the crucifixion, the resurrection—Jesus asks if Peter really does love him and, of course, Peter responds positively. “Yes, Lord, you know that I love you.” Jesus then tells Peter to feed his lambs. This questioning goes on for three times, with just slight variations.[3] After the second question and answer, Jesus says to tend his sheep and after the third, feed my sheep.[4] Jesus gives Peter the mission to care for those whom Jesus brings into his church. But Jesus repeatedly asking Peter if he loves him gets on Peter’s nerves. It bothers him, he’s hurt, yet Peter continues to answer, “Yes, Lord, I love you.” Maybe Jesus asks this three times to undo the triple betrayal Peter committed after Jesus’ arrest. Jesus wants to make sure that Peter understands he’s forgiven and that he’s ready to take over his responsibility of the church.
Peter is then informed of what kind of death he will endure. Peter, this wild and free man who so full of passion, will end up a prisoner hauled off to be executed. Peter earlier had boasted that he was willing to die for Jesus. It’s now seen as prophetic. Jesus ends this discourse with the words he first used to call Peter while there at the seashore, “Follow me.”[5]
We’re not given a sense of just how this prediction of Peter’s death was received, but Peter must have pondered it, for he asks about another of the disciples. Jesus tells Peter a great truth. “Don’t worry about him and his death.” It’s almost as if Jesus is saying, “You have enough troubles. Don’t worry about what God seems to give someone else to worry over.” In other words, accept God’s gift as grace and be thankful.
Here we are, fifty or so generations Peter.[6] This is a time of turmoil and fear, of pandemic and economic uncertainty. We’re all a little on the edge. What can we learn from this text? Well, we’ll all have our own burdens. Hopefully, we won’t have Peter’s burden of a crucifixion. Also, we learn that some seemed more blessed in one area of life than another. Some get the virus and don’t even know it. Others get it and struggle to breathe and their bodies break down. Some die. Why? This text suggests that’s a futile question. Instead, we’re shown what we, like Peter, should be doing. We’re to follow Jesus, whose path led at one point to the nourishing waters of the Jordan and at another point to that hill name Golgotha, the place of death. And along the way, we do what we can to care for those whom Jesus calls. We’re not told here to save the world. In fact, Peter isn’t even told to save anyone. Jesus is the Savior. Peter, who is being retrained from having been a fisherman to being a sheepherder, is to care for those Jesus sends his way. And that’s the role of the church, to care for those whom Jesus sends our way.
During these trying times, when we are hiding out in our homes, we might wonder how we can help anyone. There are ways. The Session, at the request of the Mission and Benevolence Committee, has called for a special offering to help care for the homeless in our community. Do what you can to help. The homeless ministries of Savannah are struggling to meet the needs of those who live under the bridges and on the streets.
Or maybe your gift is crafts and sewing. With plenty of time, you can help make masks, as my daughter and a neighbor of David and Linda Denhard has done. See my selfie on the slide? That’s an example of my daughter’s handiwork. Masks can be shared with nursing homes and for our own use when we are in public. When we start gathering back together for worship, masks will be encouraged. Wearing a mask not only protects us. If we’re asymptomatic, masks will protect others. Wearing a mask can be a gentle way of caring for Jesus’ sheep.
And if you’re not crafty, why not make some phone calls and write some letters. There are people who need to feel connected, especially to those who live alone. As Paul says in his first letter to the Thessalonians, “encourage one another, build up each other.”[7]
This week, I want to encourage everyone to reach out to someone and offer hope. For we who believe, are not to despair. We are to have hope and share that hope that we have in a loving Savior. When we do this, we are living up to the calling that was first given to Peter: “feed my lambs, care for my sheep.” Amen.
©2020
Sources Consulted:
Brown, Raymond E., The Gospel According to John XII-XXI: The Anchor Bible ( Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1970
Bruner, Frederick Dale, The Gospel of John: A Commentary (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2012).
Michaels, J. Ramsey, : John: Good News Commentary (Harper & Row, 1983.
Sloyan, Gerald, John: Interpretation, A Biblical Commentary for Teaching and Preaching (Atlanta: John Knox Press, 1988).
[1] The tapestry is also known as “Christ’s Handing the Keys to St. Peter.” Raphael combines the story of Peter receiving the keys (Matthew 16:18-19) and Peter after the breakfast on the beach (John 21:15-17) to create this work. For more information see https://www.artbible.info/art/large/683.html
[2] Matthew 26:33, Mark 14:29.
[3] Much has been made about Jesus use of the word love. The first two times, Jesus uses the Greek word “Agape.” Peter responds with the Greek word “Phila” (from which we get Philadelphia which means “city of brotherly love.”) The third time, Jesus uses “Phila” instead of “Agape.” These two terms are closely related and in English both are translated as “Love.”
[4] Lambs could be those new to the faith (those being initiated) while sheep could refer to those more mature in their faith.
[5] See Matthew 4:19 and Mark 1:17. In John’s retelling, Simon comes to Jesus through his brother Andrew and at their first meeting, Jesus changes Simon’s name to Peter. See John 1:40-42.
[6] A Biblical generation is generally considered 40 years.
[7] 1 Thessalonians 5:11
Nancy Koester, Harriet Beecher Stowe: A Spiritual Life (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2014), 371 pages, B&W photos, notes.
Harriet Beecher Stowe is best known for her novel, Uncle Tom’s Cabin. The novel’s popularity fueled the anti-slavery movement in the North and helped change the narrative of the American Civil War from an attempt to restore the Union to a crusade to rid the nation of slavery. The novel is often criticized for being overly sentimental. It has been ridiculed even in the African American community. The term, “Uncle Tom,” is used for members within the community who were unwilling to fight back against white supremacy. In the novel, Tom is a Christ-figure, who accepts his death after a severe whipping for not being willing to whip other slaves to force them to work harder. Malcom X called Martin Luther King an “Uncle Tom,” although that’s not surprising considering Malcom was not a Christian and would not understand the sacrificial position of Uncle Tom or Jesus Christ. Despite these criticisms, the book was a best seller in the 19th Century America and Great Britain. The book not only encouraged the American abolitionist movement, it’s popularity in the United Kingdom help keep Britain from coming into the war on the South’s side.
Stowe was more than just the author of Uncle Tom’s Cabin. She was the daughter of Lyman Beecher, a well-known Calvinistic preacher whose large family produced many major public figures during the middle of the 19th Century including Henry Ward Beecher, who is often considered the greatest preacher of the century. Henry was close to his sister Harriet, and together they worked against slavery. Lyman’s other children were also accomplished in their fields.
Harriet Beecher married Calvin Stowe, a widower without children. Calvin was also a theology professor at Lane Theological Seminary in Cincinnati, where her father was President. It was a struggling school that was made even more challenging sitting across the river from Kentucky, a slave state. While in Cincinnati, Harriet began to publish articles in various papers. After the publication of Uncle Tom’s Cabin, she would be the primary breadwinner of the family. Later, Calvin moved his family east to take a position in Maine and then to Andover Theological Seminary in Massachusetts. This had an added advantage of Harriet being closer to her publishers (she often would visit them in New York while staying with her brother Henry in Brooklyn).
With Harriet’s success, the Stowes made three long trips to Europe, building relationships with British abolitionists. Harriet, like many of her siblings, moved away from her father’s stricter Calvinistic views. She questioned eternal damnation and the idea of predestination. In her travels to Europe, she began to appreciate the Catholic Church and, after her husband’s retirement, became an Episcopalian. She also dabbled in spiritualism and seeking to connect to those who had died, especially after the death of her son. While this was more than just curiosity, she always maintained that a Medium could not offer the comfort of Jesus. She may have left behind much of her father’s theology (and she blamed Jonathan Edwards for what she was as problematic with New England Calvinism), she remained firm in her commitment to her Savior.
In the Civil War, her son would lead a company of freed blacks. Racial reconciliation remained important to Harriet, but she also worked on other social reforms of the day. Although she saw her primary role as a wife to her husband, she was also supportive of the women’s right movement and knew many of the early founders.
Harriet had a strong sense of what was right and wrong. On her European travels, she had met Lady Bryon, the estranged wife of the poet Lord Byron. Harriet had been told of Lord Bryon’s affairs and even incidences of incest. After both of their deaths, Lord Bryon’s last mistress wrote a book about her life with Bryon and attacked his wife as cold and unloving. Harriet felt she needed to set the record straight and wrote an article (and later a book) pointing out the poet’s failures and comparing him to Satan, who used his charm for seduction instead of for God’s glory. For this, Stowe was criticized, but it was something she knew how to handle after the publication of Uncle Tom’s Cabin. While the book was popular in the North, she was despised and criticized in some corners in the North and across the South. Stowe’s critique of Lord Bryon provided inside into the control of a patriarchal society and while the book was published a few years before the “Me Too” movement, it appears Stowe would have been sympathetic.
Harriet and Calvin’s life had many tragedies. One was the loss of a son by drowning a few years before the Civil War. Another son, Fred, was wounded in the ear during the war was in constant pain afterwards. His parents purchased him a farm in Florida with the hope he could start a farm that gave work to freed blacks. Fred eventually left the farm and took to the sea, and never again saw his parents. Fred Florida adventure did introduce the Stowes to the state and they began to spend their winters there. She would write two books that help popularize the Florida to those in the north. A half century before Marjory Stoneman Douglas’ writings help bring an end to the practice, Harriet attacked the widespread killing of birds for the use of their feathers in women’s hats. Her training in the Westminster Catechism could also be seen in her satirical writings about hunters in Florida who think the “chief end of man is to shoot something.” She wasn’t opposed to hunting, just killing for sport. In a way, Stowe was an early environmentalist. The only son of the Stowe’s who took up their father and grandfather’s position in the pulpit was Charles. But this, too, became a concern when he flirted with Unitarianism. However, he stayed within the Congregational Church. She was also bothered by the charge of adultery against her brother, Henry. He would be vindicated (even though he was probably guilty), but Harriet remained his defender.
This book provides insight into a complex woman along with her family who were major figures in 19th Century America. Koester’s writing is easy to read and comprehend. I recommend this book to anyone wanting to know more about Harriet Beecher Stowe and the era.
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
John 21:1-14
May 17, 2020
Today and next Sunday, we are going to explore Jesus’ last post-resurrection account in John’s gospel.[1] Two weeks ago, when I preached last, we discussed Jesus eating left-over fish for dinner.[2] Today, the disciples eat fish and bread for breakfast on the lakeshore.
As we’ve done throughout this series, we have a classical painting, this one from the 15th Century, to help us get into the story. This artist, I doubt, ever saw the Holy Lands. He images Jesus and the disciples on a European stream. But he gets some things right. There are seven disciples in the picture, Jesus is showing them how to fish, and Peter is so excited he’s swimming to shore to be with Jesus. But more importantly, he shows Jesus coming to the disciples! Place yourself into the painting, just downstream. Think about all this. You have this landlubber giving instructions to the men in the boat who haven’t caught a fish all night. Suddenly, there’s more fish than they know what to do with? Is it a miracle or a lucky guess? What do we make of this story? What can we learn? Listen as I read from John 21, reading from The Message translation.
The best fish are fresh from the water. Even greasy bluefish make a great breakfast when grilled over a charcoal fire on the beach. I was probably 10 or 11 when I first had such a treat. We were fishing on Masonboro Island. It was in the fall, when the bluefish run. We got up when it was still pitch dark and chilly. My dad started a charcoal fire, which helped us stay warm. But instead of sitting around the fire, we soon had lines in the dark water, casting out into surf. In darkness, we fished with bait. On the end of the line, we had a rig with a weight and two hooks, each containing a strip of mullet. When the fish hit, we’d yank the rod to set the hook, then reel hard. Soon, if lucky, a flapping fish could be made out from the distant light of the lantern. We’d have to bring the fish into the light in order to safely get out the hook.
Leaving our fish on sand, we rebait our hooks and again cast out into the surf. Slowly, the sky changes. The stars began to extinguish themselves. A ribbon of light appears on the horizon, and it gradually growed. We began to be able to make out the beach and could see where the waves were breaking. Soon afterwards, the sun would slowly rise, its rays seemingly racing across the water toward me, as if they whose rays were destined just for me.
When there was a lull in the action, we’d stop and clean a few fish, washing them off in the surf, and then lay them on a grill over the coals. In a few minutes, we’d be “eatin’ good.” Afterwards, we’d change the rigging on our rods to plugs and spoons and head back to the water’s edge. Good memories of good times.
Perhaps it was because I grew up in a home where fishing ranked just below church attendance in priority that Peter’s statement, “I’m going fishing” seems normal. And to the six disciples with him, it sounds like a plan. They head to the water and fished the night. They had terrible luck. That happens. Some mornings there are no bluefish for breakfast.
These men, before becoming disciples, had been fishermen. But this isn’t a story about fishing, even though surprisingly we’re told exactly how many fish they caught. Instead, it’s a post-resurrection story, about Jesus coming to the disciples.
As I’ve emphasized in these sermons on Jesus’ resurrection, the disciples learn a true lesson. They are not in control. Jesus is in control. We often have this image of going to Jesus, but in truth, Jesus first comes to us. In today’s story, Jesus knows where many of his disciples are. They’re by the lakeshore, fishing, because that’s what they know how to do. So, like when he first called them, he returns to call them again. Next week, we’ll look at how Jesus sends out Peter with a mission, but before we go there, I want us to spend some time in this story.
Imagine, having spent the night fishing with nothing in the bucket. Then along comes someone on shore, 100 yards or so away, far enough away you don’t recognize him. This someone greets you and asks that question that fishermen despise on a bad day. “Have you caught anything?” A loaded question. If you out on a pier and ask that question to a fisherman, his response will probably depend on how well the fish are biting. If there’s only one pinfish in the bucket, you’ll get a grumbled answer that essentially tells you to keep moving. But if the fishing has been good, the fisherman may open the cooler and let you look with awe on his catch.
On this night, the fishing hadn’t been good. Jesus then does something else that goes against fishermen etiquette. “Why don’t you fish from the other side?” That’s like suggesting a different lure or fly. “Take off that spinner and put on a jitterbug; or get rid of that wooly bugger and put on a popping bug.” But Jesus’ advice pays off as they catch so many fish the net is about to break. Only then does the Beloved Disciple realizes it’s Jesus. Before he can act, Peter throws on some clothes, jumps in and swims toward shore.
Peter, whose nickname was “the Rock,” obviously had learned to swim since that earlier occasion when he tried to walk on water and sank—like a rock.[3] The disciples struggle to pull in the net and when they get to the beach they realize Jesus has already prepared breakfast. But Jesus doesn’t just let those good fish go to waste. He encourages the disciples to bring some of them over and add them to the fire. Jesus uses what we offer to make the banquet table even larger—there’s a message here.
Like the other post-resurrection appearances, there’s also bit of mystery. Why do we even have verse twelve? After Jesus calls them in for breakfast, we’re told that no one dared to ask, “Who are you?” They knew it was Jesus, but the text leaves us wondering what’s going on. Furthermore, they don’t recognize Jesus right off. It’s only when they follow his suggestion that they encounter him. There’s probably a lesson in that, too. When we listen to Jesus and do what he says, our relationship grows.
There are three things that happen to the disciples in this passage that we should take to heart. First, Jesus comes to us. Jesus shows up at the most unexpected places. In these stories, he doesn’t show up at church or the synagogue or the temple. Instead, it’s at work, after or before visiting hours. Think about the post-resurrection appearances. Except for meeting the disciples on the road to Emmaus, Jesus always shows up on the shoulders of the day (at daybreak and in the evening). In this case, Jesus arrives as the disciples are finishing up their night shift at a job that wasn’t going to be paying much this day. As followers of Jesus, we must be ready for whenever our Savior decides to pop by. Jesus is not just Lord over Sunday or over religion, he is Lord of all, and can meet us wherever we find ourselves. This is good news in a time that many of us find ourselves prisoners in our own homes! Yes, Jesus can show up even there, you’ll just have to let him in.
A second thing we learn is that Jesus doesn’t just give us all we need. Yes, Jesus had the fire going with fish and bread being prepared, but notice he doesn’t say to the disciples: “We don’t need those 153 fish, throw ‘em back.” That would have belittled their efforts. Jesus doesn’t even take credit for helping with the catch. Instead, Jesus invites the disciples to bring some of what they caught and to place them over the coals. Jesus uses what we have and expands it.
Let me tell you a story to illustrate this. Many of the photos I’ve using today came from a 2008 trip into the Quetico Wilderness in Western Ontario. The guy at the camp stove you see now is Doc Spindler. One morning, he was talking about having pancakes and so proud of himself for prepacking everything he needed. To be helpful, Jim Bruce (who visited us here at SIPC in February and seen in the picture with the full plate) and I went out early that morning, braving the bears as we picked a quart of so of blueberries. We brought them back and Doc was so happy to have blueberries to mix into pancakes. You use what you’re given. Doc knows this. Although a great guy, however, Doc isn’t Jesus. Instead of the baggie with pancake mix, he used a package of meal for frying fish and the blueberry pancakes ended up coming out like goulash. But with a little syrup and butter and an empty stomach, it was still good.
Jesus takes our gifts, our talents, and employs them in manners beyond what we ever imagined. We just need to be willing to share our blessings. What have we’ve been blessed with that we could offer Jesus for his use in the building of his kingdom?
Finally, Jesus feeds us. In this case, he fed the disciples a hearty breakfast of fish and bread. But Jesus, who calls all who are weary to accept his yoke, will restore our tired souls and feed our minds and bodies with his presence and comfort.[4] We know, that with him, we have nothing to worry about, for his love is greater than death. When we’re burdened, and let’s face it, we’re all burdened these days as we worry about what’s going to happen, we should call on and depend upon Jesus. He’ll stand by us when no one else will. Amen.
Commentaries Consulted:
Brown, Raymond E., The Gospel According to John XII-XXI: The Anchor Bible ( Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1970
Bruner, Frederick Dale, The Gospel of John: A Commentary (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2012).
Sloyan, Gerald, John: Interpretation, A Biblical Commentary for Teaching and Preaching (Atlanta: John Knox Press, 1988).
©2020
[1] Next Sunday, we’ll look at the last half of John 21.
[2] Luke 24:36-49.
[3] Matthew 14:28-30
[4] Matthew 11:30.
Austin, from Zikler Park
The other day I was telling someone about going to Austin in early March. He told me of all the places he lived, that he liked Austin the best, that it was a blueberry in a bowl of tomato soup (that’s a political joke, you’ll have to figure it out).
Was it only two months ago that I was in Austin? This is a weird time we’re living. In early March, two days before I flew down for a seminar by the Foundation for Reformed Theology on the writings of John Leith, a Presbyterian theologian of the second half of the twentieth century, South by Southwest was cancelled. I didn’t realize just how large of a music event this was, which may have explained why there were so few rental cars available. But I flew down in flights that, once they called up standbys, were full. This was only two months ago.
The 7 11’s where I grew up never had signs like that! Was it formerly a bar or tavern? Photo taken on a walk around town.
My flight options into Austin from Savannah were not great. Since I had to be at Austin Theological Seminary on Monday at nine in the morning, I considered preaching on Sunday and then flying down. But by waiting until the afternoon, the earliest I could get to Austin was 10:30 PM, which would have put me exhausted. Instead, I decided to fly down early on Saturday. This would leave me a day and a half to explore the city, before engaging in discussions. It was a good choice. On March 7th, I took an early flight to Atlanta and then on to Austin, arriving in the city at 11 AM. I’d decided to forgo renting a car, so I took a bus (that seemed to be waiting on me) into town. I got off just north of University of Texas’ campus and two blocks south of the seminary. It was a few minutes after noon when I arrived.
The guy at the guest counter was accompanying for my early arrival. I dropped my bags in my room. While they normally don’t have food service during the weekend, this day there was a multi-cultural seminar going on and some of the faculty, who were talking behind me as I asked the person at the desk where to go for lunch, invited me to join them. I had wonderful homemade tamales and other Mexican and Native American food. It was made even better as I got to talk over lunch with a number of the students at the seminar.
Near the LBJ museum
Then I headed out. As I have been reading Robert Caro’s multi-volume biography of the first President I can really remember, Lyndon Johnson, I head over to his library and museum on the east side of UT’s campus. I was curious of the spin they’d put on this complex man. I thought the library looked like an oversized mausoleum. As I came into the museum, a docent greeted me. I was told that it was a free day, which surprised me, but I didn’t complain. We talked a few minutes and I had to tell him the first joke I can remember, which probably came from an old Boy’s Life magazine around 1965:
What do you get when you up your finger in the President’s ear?
Johnson’s wax.
I was sure he had heard it, but it turns out he had not and had me tell it to a few others working in the museum. While the museum was honest about some of LBJ’s struggles and failures, it avoided dealing with some of his childhood and education issues and the extramarital affairs he had. Caro tells of LBJ’s affair with the wife of one of his big financial supporters. Forget morality, that took nerve (and a lot of risk)! One of the neat displays had a wax figure of Johnson telling jokes. LBJ was known for his jokes and stories (and getting into people’s faces).
Large prehistorical Texas bird
It was around 4:30 when I left the library. I headed over to the Texas Memorial museum. By the time I got there, I only had 20 minutes, but since I was told the day was free, I decided to see what I could. I also asked why things were free and learned that this day, at the beginning of the South-by-Southwest festival, is the traditional day for upcoming freshmen to visit the University of Texas. So, they made things free. The orientation day had been canceled, but they kept the museums free. The Memorial Museum focuses on natural history and has a huge skeleton of a prehistoric bird that practically fills the main room on the first floor. Texas does like to show off how big things are there.
After my rush tour through the Natural History Museum, I walked over to Pho Thai Son, a Vietnamese restaurant I’d seen along Guadalupe Street, on the far side of the campus. I enjoyed an evening meal of Pork and Lemon Grass on a salad base. I then walked back to my room at the Seminary and went to bed early.
I found this a little sad… there must be some lonely rivers somewhere.
I’d decided to attend church at Central Presbyterian, which was about a mile and a half walk from the seminary. It was the day we changed to daylight saving time, but since I was an hour off from my usual time, I didn’t notice losing the hour. Since there was no meal service at the seminary on the weekends, I left early hoping that I could find something to eat along the way. Walking through the campus on the “Speedway,” I came upon a unique sculpture. I often wondered what happened to all those old aluminum canoes from the 70s. Now I know, they are welded into a canoe tree that stands to the side of the speedway (which is really a walkway). Getting to church early, without passing anyplace to eat, I find Bidemans Deli, a block to the west. I had breakfast and read till a few minutes before church was to begin at 10 AM. At church, they started with an announcement about the closing of South-by-Southwest. This church was a site for many of the musical venues, but without the event, they were out of a lot of money. I was impressed that the church included all types of people. There were homeless (which they feed afterwards) and those in suits. I was casually dressed as I planned to make the most of my day. Most of the congregation was on the younger side, but I learned that many of their regulars who were older were not there out of the fear of the virus. There was a guest preacher this day. He was articulate, and I enjoyed listening to him even if he spent a little too much time talking about himself and his family.
Reflection of the Catholic Cathedral
After church was over, I backtracked and attended the sermon part of the mass at the Catholic Cathedral. There, the priest must have been Vietnamese or from somewhere in Southeast Asia. His homily was packed with information, but he read the sermon and never made eye contact. I found myself wondering if he had even written the sermon, or if he was just reading someone else’s. However, unlike the Presbyterian Church where people were already staying away due to virus fears, the Catholic Church was packed. I listened to the homily and then left, heading to the capitol as my first stop as a tourist.
The Texas capitol looks a lot like the United States capitol, only dirty. It is also a few feet taller, something Texans are proud of and I have no idea how many people bragged about this to me. Not wanting to start a war, I did not tell them I thought their capitol looked dirty. I wanted to make it safely out of the state. The “dirty look” comes from the reddish colored marble. Originally, they were going to use limestone, but found that Texas limestone discolors. The contractor suggested importing white marble from Indiana, but that flew over about as well as a block of marble. Instead, they found a Texas quarry that could mine this reddish-brown marble and used it. Texas tried to build its capitol on the cheap (using convict labor). The miners in the quarry decided to strike instead of teaching the convicts how to do their job, which meant that the marble cost more than planned. But they saved on all other aspects of the building.
One of many water features in the Botanical Gardens
After touring the inside of the capitol, I walked around looking at the monuments dotting the grounds, then headed South. I had wanted to go see Ladybird Johnson’s wildflowers, but learned that was two miles beyond bus service. So instead, I headed to Zikler Botanical Garden. Walking south, I crossed the Colorado River on the Congress Avenue Bridge, known for its large colony of bats during the summer (they are not normally seen until April). Then I headed up Barton Springs Road, stopping for an ice cream cone to tide me over till dinner time. Along the way, I passed Terry Black’s Barbecue. They had five huge cookers going, using split hardwood. I talked with one of the pit workers and knew where I was going to go for dinner. I head on to the Botanical Gardens, which sit up on a hill overlooking Austin. I enjoy the view and the scenery, especially the Japanese garden. There were many lovely water features that started at the top of the hill and created cascading creeks flowing down the sides.
After a few hours of walking through the gardens and some time to write and read, I began my walk back along the river, watching several rowing crews practice on the water. Then I cut back over to Barton Springs Road, where I’m shocked at the line at Terry Black’s. I was told it was a 45-minute wait. If folks are waiting that long it must be good, I thought, and joined the line. It was. I had some of their pork and a brisket, both which were good. The banana pudding was passable.
The sun was setting by the time I was fed. I continued back toward the campus several miles away, crossing the river on the Lamar Street bridge. I walked fast through a mostly empty city, arriving back at the campus around 8:30 PM. Several of those in the seminar had arrived and we talked a bit. They had not eaten and decide to go out for dinner while I read a bit before turning in early. It had been a good day and I figured I’d walked at least 15 miles.
Chapel at Austin Presbyterian Theological Seminary (The trees were just beginning to bud out)
The rest of the week rushed by. We meet for three hours each morning and another three hours in the afternoon, followed by dinner. The first night was at La Mancha, a Tex-Mex establishment. On Tuesday night, we had barbecue at “The County Line,” which had a wonderful view of a stream that look so inviting for fishing. Wednesday, we ate “Hoovers,” a well known Southern cuisine establishment that’s been featured on “Diners, Drive-ins, and Dives.” All were excellent restaurants. While we were involved in talking and making presentations, we kept an eye on the stock market and on the news of the country shutting down due to COVID-19. The market was taking some huge drops, would regain a bit, then drop again. There was a weird feeling in the air. In the seminary’s lunchroom, they were wiping the tables and putting up safety signs.
On Wednesday evening, I worked on a letter to go out to the congregation. With staff, we sent drafts back and forth, ironing out safety procedures for worshipping during a pandemic. After several revisions and phone calls, they sent the letter (which I posted here) out on Thursday in an email blast.
“The Bible”
Our last day was Thursday. John, another participant, and I had half a day, so we skipped the airport shuttle and walked over to the Harry Reason Center at UT’s campus. This building holds collections of interesting historical artifacts and papers. We both took pictures standing behind an original Gutenberg Bible. They had an exhibit of David Forster Wallace and Gabriel García Márquez, both of whom the Center holds many of their papers. Both exhibits were interesting. We then headed back to the seminary, picked up our bags and took the bus to the airport. It was March 12, and a completely different attitude could be felt. The place was not very crowded. We flew through security and after a final dinner, we were on our way home in half-filled airplanes. The world had changed.
I was always a little nervous walking around this tower on UT’s campus
When I went into the office on Friday, exhausted from the travels, things were seriously shutting down. While we decided not to shut-down worship on Sunday, we sent another email out to the congregation, encouraging them to stay home and to watch our service via live-stream. All but one other of the churches on the island had closed. We only had around 35 in worship on March 15. It was the last week of any kind of regular service. Ever since, a skeleton crew of 6 or 7 have put together a live-streamed worship service. Our draft pandemic procedures were quickly made obsolete.
It now seems as if it was two years ago that I was walking around Austin.
Eric Goodman, Cuppy and Stew: The Bombing of Flight 629, A Love Story (San Francisco: IF SF Publishing, 2020), 220 pages with a few photographs.
The narrator is Susan, the youngest daughter of Cuppy and Stew, who died in the crash of United 629 in 1955. She and her sister, Sherry, are orphaned and sent to Canada, where their parents are from, even though they were born in South Africa and were living in the United States. The book nicely divides in half, with the first part providing us the background of their parent’s steamy romance. This led their father accepting a position as a mining engineer in South Africa. Then came the Second World War. Stuck in South Africa, they had two kids. After the war, they move to the United States and are living near Chicago. With the father having been estranged from his family (I won’t give it away, you will have to read the book to learn why), the girls maternal grandmother stays with them while their parents travel by plane to the West Coast. They change planes in Denver, at which time their lives unknowingly intersect a disturbed young man who had stashed a dynamite bomb in his mother’s suitcase. The man then purchased insurance on his mother. The plane, which should have been high over the mountains when the dynamite exploded, had been delayed and was only ten minutes into the flight. Everyone died, but because the crash was over farmland, it was quickly discovered how the plane crashed and who had done the deed. The bomber’s pending execution hangs over the two girls.
After the crash, the girl’s adolescent years in Canada are horrible. They first live with the grandmother who has many problems of her own. Then there are other relatives and foster families and a boarding school. The girls face abuse-emotional, physical and sexual. Susan, the narrator, is able to escape (she goes to Northwestern for college), while Sherry is trapped and unable to escape the dysfunctional situation she and her sister found themselves in as younger girls. The book is both hopeful and sad. There are adults whom the reader will want to slap upside the head and ask why they have to be such a monster or so cruel. And there are others who do what they can to look out for the girls. Children should never be pawns. Sadly, however, too many are pawns in an impersonal world, as show in this story.
This is a very personal book for Goodman. While it is book of fiction, it is based on his wife’s and sister-in-law’s story. Their parents died on United 629. The book reads well and quickly. This is the second book I’ve read by Goodman. Two years ago, in preparation to taking a writing class from him at the Iowa Summer Writing Festival, I read and reviewed his book, Days of Awe.
###
High tide last night was at 9 PM. I went out around 8 PM, catching the last of the sunset and then watching the moonrise, paddling around Pigeon Island (approximately 5 miles). The tide was very high and I could easily go through the marsh. Here’s a poor quality photo taken with a smart phone from a kayak that was slightly rocking from the gentle waves. The photo doesn’t do the view justice. It was an incredible sight and the paddle was delightful
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
Luke 24:36-49
May 3, 2020
We are continuing our look at the post-resurrection appearances of Jesus. As I said last week, Luke provides three vignettes of Jesus on that first Easter. The first is with the women at the empty tomb, then Jesus meets up with the disciples along the road to Emmaus. Somewhere, too, this day, we’re told Jesus encountered Simon Peter, but we’re not give a first-hand account of that meeting, just an after-the-fact mention.[1] The final meeting on this first Easter is similar to the Easter Evening description in John’s gospel, but there are some differences we should explore. In Luke, the disciples are confused and wonder if Jesus is a ghost. Jesus points to himself and his “flesh and bones” as an indication that it is really him. Then, Jesus asks if there is something to eat. After all, ghosts (according to their belief) didn’t eat. Jesus is given some leftovers from dinner.
I don’t have a classic photo to show you of this encounter. Artists seem more interested in painting the Emmaus story or the story of Thomas sticking his hand in Jesus’ wounds. So, let’s think for a minute about leftovers. Leftovers doesn’t seem suitable fare for a risen king, does it? Cold fish? But Jesus surprises us. Just as he was born a king, but in a manger and not a castle, upon his resurrection, Jesus doesn’t expect a fancy banquet. Just a piece of broiled fish. Simple food, the food of the masses.
Jesus isn’t pretentious. With Jesus, it’s never about having the best stuff. Instead, it’s about relationships and being connected to God the Father. Sometimes his followers forget this. We build fancy cathedrals in his honor. But for a man who lived most of his life on the road, one should ask if this is where Jesus would feel at home? For this reason, those of us in the Presbyterian and Reformed Tradition have tended to shun that which is flashy.[2] Our buildings tend to be simple and functional. Our Scottish ancestors saw to it that even clergy dress is simple. Most of us wear Geneva gowns, more akin to the academy than to the high church. We’re simple folk, which brings us back to leftovers. It’s the perfect meal. Don’t waste things; make the best of what God has given you, and be thankful.
For those of us who are living in this strange time of pandemic, this is a good reminder that we should be thankful for what we have, even leftovers. Read Luke 24:36-49.
One of the common characteristics of the post-resurrection appearances of Jesus is that no one is looking for him, and no one “finds him.” Instead, Jesus just shows up. The disciples are hearing from the women about Jesus not being in the tomb, reports of him being in Emmaus, and from Simon Peter. But they don’t send out a search party to find Jesus. They’re scared. They lock themselves into a room while discussing what they consider as rumors. And when Jesus mysteriously shows up, they freak out. “It’s a ghost!”
One of the lessons we should learn from the resurrection stories is that Jesus controls both his and our destinies. It’s not about us going out looking for God, it’s about God looking for us. There are no barriers that we can put up to avoid God. The disciples discovered this when Jesus pops in. This is good news for those of us sheltering and avoiding contact with others in order to stay healthy during this pandemic. While we might not be able to go to church on Sunday mornings, God can invade the privacy of our homes. We can’t keep God out. As Jesus shows us, God is in control. That’s good, because we can screw things up, so we’re a lot better off depending upon the God who surprises us, than depending on our own inability to bring us back into a relationship with the Almighty. This is what the Presbyterian doctrine of election or predestination is all about.
But before the disciples can understand this, they must realize who this is that has invaded their meeting. In their mind, Jesus is dead. You don’t come back to this life once grasp the idea that he is risen. First, he asks for a bite to eat. It’s been a while since his last supper. It’s important that they see food going in his mouth (see food, seafood, get it?). Jesus then points to his flesh and bones. Luke wants to assure us that Jesus’ appearance to the disciples after his death isn’t just wishful thinking on their part.[3] The disciples expect Jesus to be dead and his appearance strikes fear in them. Jesus assures them what is happening by eating and showing his body. Still, his presence in the resurrection state creates questions for us such as how just how he got through the walls and locked doors.[4] Because Jesus is also God, there are mysteries we can never comprehend.
The second thing Jesus does, which is like what he did with those in Emmaus, is to help the disciples understand the scriptures. Jesus wants them to grasp the idea that his suffering, death, and resurrection has been God’s plan.[5] The Law of Moses (or what the Jews call the Torah or the first five books of our Old Testament), along with the prophets and Psalms, all point to Jesus Christ. God is working out history with humans, which means there is much in the Scriptures that’s messy. We had this discussion yesterday in the men’s Bible study. We are reading Genesis. As humans, we have a hard time understanding stories like that of Tamar playing the role of a prostitute, yet finding a place in Matthew’s genealogy of Jesus.[6] God has a way of redeeming us and working through us to bring about his purposes. We might screw things up, but God can make it right. Again, that’s the doctrine of election or predestination at work.
This brings me to the last point I want to make on this passage. Jesus doesn’t open their eyes only so they can understand what had happened that weekend which began on that terrible (yet good) Friday. Jesus is preparing these misfits, who denied and abandoned him, to continue with his ministry and to take it to the ends of the world. Throughout these post-resurrection appearances of Jesus, there is a call to mission. The disciples are to be Jesus’ witnesses.[7]
Of course, because this is God’s doing, not the disciples’, they will need to be given the strength and ability to carry this mission out. Jesus, in his commission to the disciples in Luke’s gospel, is looking forward to the: coming of the Holy Spirit, to Pentecost, after which the disciples will take Jesus’ message to the end of the world.[8] As I insisted over and over again when preaching through Luke’s second book known of as “the Acts of the Apostles,” it should have been called, “The Acts of God through the Apostles.” For it wasn’t the Apostles that made the difference, it was God working through them. With God, all is possible. Without God, nothing is possible.[9]
So, what can we take away from this passage as we sit, isolated, in our homes? First, while we keep others at a distance (and for a good reason as we are striving to stop this virus), we can’t keep Jesus out. You never know where he might show up. But don’t worry if you’re in your pajamas or an old sweat suit. That doesn’t bother Jesus, just as he won’t be offended if you offered him leftovers from the fridge. But understand this. Jesus doesn’t just show to make us feel better. He shows up because he has a job for us to do. He shows up to encourage us to trust in God and to be his ambassadors, starting where we are at and then to the ends of the world. Jesus shows up to call us to be gracious and thankful even during a pandemic.
Jesus shows up and calls us because, sooner or later, we are no longer going to be hiding in our home. Life will open back up and when that happens, we need to be ready (just as the disciples were ready on Pentecost) to go into the world and make a difference. Think of this time we’re in as a Sabbath. Like the disciples, we rest today. In a short while, there will be plenty for us to do. As followers of Jesus, we’re to change the world, to make it a kinder more generous and gracious, home. May we catch that vision and live into it. Amen.
©2020
[1] Luke 24:34
[2] See Book of Order F-2.05 and Westminster Larger Catechism Question 141.
[3] James R. Edwards, The Gospel According to Luke (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2015), 729.
[4] While Luke doesn’t mention locked doors, it is still apparent that Jesus suddenly appearing in the midst of the disciples is miraculous and unexplained. See John 20:19.
[5] Fred B. Craddock, Luke: Interpretation, a Biblical Commentary for Preaching and Teaching (Louisville: John Knox Press, 1990), 291.
[6] Genesis 38 (especially verses 14-19) and Matthew 1;3.
[7] In Matthew 28, Mary Magdalene and the other Mary are sent to tell the disciples, then the disciples are sent to tell the world. In Mark 16:15, the disciples are to go tell the world. In John, Mary Magdalene is sent to tell the disciples (John 20:17); the disciples are sent into the world to forgive sin (John 20:21-22); and Peter is sent to tend and love Jesus’ “sheep.” (John 21:15-23). In the cases where there is not implicit instruction, the disciples seem to know that they are to go tell about Jesus’ resurrection as in the case with the two disciples on the road to Emmaus (Luke 24:13ff).
[8] Edwards, 735.
[9] Matthew 19:26, Mark 10:27.
lunch and morning coffee included
Surprisingly, things have been pretty busy for the past six weeks. You’d think t hat wouldn’t be the case since many places are closed down to visitors so I’m not making hospital or nursing home visits. Our office is closed for public visitation, but since they’re all separated, some of us still come in. Learning how to keep a congregation somewhat connected during a time of pandemic has taken it’s toll. Nothing is as easy as you’d think. The main thing that has keep me sane is that I’ve been able to regularly bike to work–which is good for the 3.2 miles each way gives me some physical exercise since the fitness center is closed. Plus, if I’m not going to the hospital, I don’t need a car, and since people only see me via a zoom camera, I can wear a dress shirt and shorts! That’s me, riding to work one cool morning this week.
But by last week, things were clicking and I was able to get out on the water twice. Last Wednesday, I paddled over to Wassaw Island, took a nap and did some reading and writing while on the island, then paddled back. It’s about five miles each way. While I paddled with the tide, I had quite a wind against me heading out (thankfully the wind was to my back when I paddled home.
Nap Time on Wassaw
On the two trips I did, I decided to try to do a “devotion” from my kayak. I recorded these on Facebook live and had a lot of folks watching and commenting. Then I copied and posted in my newly created YouTube channel, so you can watch. I need to learn to do this a little smoother, but I’m curious as to what you think. The first (3 minutes) is a prayer by a favorite Scottish theologian of the early 20th Century, John Braille. The second includes two poems (one by Mary Karr and the other by me) along with a Puritan prayer. Clink on the links below:
Friday, Paddling around Pigeon Island
How are you surviving the pandemic? I hope you have been able to get outside–it’s a great way to enjoy while creating social distance.
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
April 26, 2020
Luke 24:13-35
To watch the entire service (approximately 40 minutes), click here to go to our YouTube site.
It is solved by walking, Augustine of Hippo said.[1] I believe it. When I don’t know what to do, I often take a walk (or ride a bicycle or spend time in a kayak). There’s something about getting out and moving that helps us re-center ourselves. It’s especially true during these times of social isolation. We need to get some fresh air and pick up a little sunshine. It helps our mental state. And maybe that’s why the two disciples in today’s scripture reading decided to hike over to Emmaus. After all, they’d had a bad week. We’ve all had some bad weeks lately and could all probably use a good walk. The weather is going to be nice today—just maintain a safe social distance.
As we’ve done through Lent and have continued through the Easter season, I’m going to use a piece of art to help us get into the text for today. Our picture shows two disciples flanking Jesus as they walk along the road. Now, as we’ll see when we get into the text, they don’t recognize Jesus. We do! He’s in the middle (remember my sermon from last week-Jesus is always in the middle and we need to keep him there.). Also, Jesus is wearing white! That’s a dead giveaway! One of the disciples holds a scroll and Jesus is obviously helping him understand what he’s reading. But let’s step away and get into the mind of what this lad, over on the edge, might be thinking.
I have a lot of time to think out here, watching the sheep. I see a lot of people coming and going. Jerusalem, the Holy City, is just over the rise, a few miles away. These three were heading away from the city and engaged in a great debate. Even with my back turned, I could hear them a mile away. And as they were talking, the third guy, the one in a white robe, catches up with them. He joins their conversation. They seem rather surprised that he didn’t know what they were talking about. There’s this man, supposedly a king, who’d been crucified. But then he starts asking questions and I can tell they are intrigued. Here, a guy who didn’t seem to know the news, yet knows the scriptures.
Later in the day, as the sun is setting, I see the two men again, rushing back toward Jerusalem. They are joyous and excited. I wondered what happened to the third man, the one who seemed to know so much.
It’s still Easter in our text, the afternoon after word began to spread around about Jesus not being in the tomb. People are trying to figure this all out. One of the things that I like about Luke’s retelling of the resurrection is how he gives three different stories which all happened that first Easter Sunday. There is the account of the women and Peter at the empty tomb early in the morning. Then there is this account that happens along to the road to Emmaus. Finally, there is the appearance of Jesus among the disciples at a fish fry. In today’s account, we learn that what happened was necessary and foretold by prophets. The Messiah had to suffer, die and rise again.[2]
In the account we’re looking at today, we join up with two disciples walking to Emmaus, a town which according to Luke was about seven miles from Jerusalem. We’re not sure, today, where Emmaus was located. One of the disciples is identified as Cleopas, and we don’t really know who he is as this is his only mention in Scripture. It’s assumed these two disciples were not part of Jesus’ inner-circle (the twelve) but of a larger group of those who followed Jesus.[3] Some think the unnamed disciple might have been Cleopas’ wife. Perhaps they were two of the 70 disciples Luke mentions in the tenth chapter, who were sent out by Jesus.
On this occasion, they are walking and discussing the events of the past few days when they are joined by a stranger. This makes sense to me, as I have walked a lot in my life. I recall numerous occasions along the Appalachian Trail where I was talking to someone and a third person comes up behind us and, overhearing what we were talking about, puts his two cents worth.
Interestingly, they do not recognize Jesus. Certainly, if they had traditional robes and head coverings, it could be hard to recognize him, but we’d think they would be familiar with his voice. But Verse 16 indicates that their eyes were prevented from seeing Jesus, which parallels what happens in the guest house, where their eyes were opened.[4]
When the stranger joins them, he asks, essentially, “What’s going on?” Think about this. It’s been a troubling few days in Jerusalem. This is kind of like someone coming up to you in the grocery store, way too close, while you’re decked out with gloves and a mask, and ask what’s up with the gloves and masks. Does this person not know what’s going on with the COVID virus?[5] Cleopas, the only disciple named, questions him harshly. “Are you the only one that doesn’t know what’s happened? It seems odd that this stranger is clueless, and they fill Jesus in on all that has happened. They witness to Jesus, about Jesus! But it turns out, Jesus’ isn’t so clueless. He helps them understand the Scriptures by asking a question. It has been said that questions “help tune the soul,” as they help “illumine the world.”[6] Jesus’ question, on the need for the Messiah to suffer before glory, does this. Jesus, whom they still don’t know, helps these disciples see the Scriptures in a new way.
There’s a part of me that feels as if Jesus is playing with the two disciples. Yes, he knew very well what happened in Jerusalem over the past few days. But Jesus, instead of pulling down hood of his robe and demanding the disciples look him in the eye, or maybe showing them his hands and feet, takes the time to lead these disciples to the point in which they can accept and understand what happens. Jesus is never in a hurry; he takes his time, helping us to understand God’s grace.
The disciples, who still haven’t figured out who Jesus is, appreciate his words and invite him to eat with them in Emmaus. We have the sense Jesus was willing to just keep on walking, but hospitality is appreciated, and Jesus’ accepts. This sets up an occasion for him to break bread with the two disciples and it is in that act that their eyes are opened, and they recognize him.
Something else happens. Jesus, at the table, goes from being the guest to the host.[7] The disciples are rewarded for their hospitality, perhaps foreshadowing what would later be written in the Book of Hebrews, “Don’t forget to show hospitality to strangers, for some who have done this have entertained angels without realizing it.”[8] In this case, it’s not just an angel. It’s the Lord himself.
As they walked to Emmaus, I imagine the two disciples lollygagging along. Their heads are down, they’re kicking stones. They’re sad about Jesus and not sure what to think of the rumors they’ve heard. Their slow pace allows this stranger to catch up with them and join in their conversation. Afterwards, after Jesus opens their eyes, they run back to Jerusalem. Their pace picks up. They have a purpose. They head back to find the disciples and to share the story of their encounter.
Jesus gives us a purpose. In the other resurrection stories, Jesus sent off those he met with a mission. Mary Magdalene is to go tell the disciples. The disciples are to build a church on forgiveness. But here, Jesus just disappears. However, the two disciples know what to do. This is just too glorious to keep to themselves. They must share the message with others, so they head back to Jerusalem to tell the disciples.
In some ways, our encounters with Christ are probably more like these two disciples walking to Emmaus. There are very few Damascus Road experiences, like that of Paul. It ranks up there with Moses’ burning unburned bush. Most of us experience Christ, like these two, when we realize something someone said caused our hearts to burn, or when someone opens Scripture and we learned the eternal truths of God’s Word. And when something like that happens, we must tell someone. It’s a Truth we can’t keep to ourselves. This is how our faith spreads. We encounter Christ through his word or through someone who speaks to us about Christ and then Christ becomes real to us.
When Christ became real to these two disciples, they rushed off to tell others. What do we do? How do we respond? How does our faith change our lives? In this time of social distancing we might not be able to barge into a neighbor’s house sharing the good news, but there are still ways we can let people know what we’ve found to be true. There are ways we can let people witness our faith, for we have a story that demands to be told. Amen.
©2020
[1] Solviture ambulando. It’s one of my Augustine’s more well-known sayings that has been often quoted.
[2] See Luke 24:6-7, 25-27, and 46.
[3] Norval Geldenhuys, The Gospel of Luke: The New International Commentary on the New Testament (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1983), 632.
[4] James R. Edwards, The Gospel According to Luke (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2015), 716-717, 724.
[5] This story came from Jill Duffield, “Looking into the Lectionary-3rd Sunday of Easter,” The Presbyterian Outlook (April 20, 2020).
[6] Phil Cousineau, The Art of Pilgrimage: The Seeker’s Guide to Making Travel Sacred (New York: MJF Books, 1998), 24.
[7] Edwards, 723.
[8] Hebrews 13:2, New Living Translation.
What are you reading this days? Looking for a good book while you isolate yourself? Here are three books from books I recently read. It’s by sheer accident that two of them discuss Epictetus (but different parts of his philosophy):
P. M. Forni, The Civility Solution: What to Do When People are Rude (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 2008), 266 pages including notes.
The late P. M. Forni was the founder of the Civility Institute at John Hopkins University. In this short book, he deals with issues we face all the time, rude people. He encourages his readers to take the high and honest road when dealing with such folks. It’s the only way to build a more civil world.
In the first chapter, Forni defines rudeness as a disregard for others and an attempt to “control through invalidation”. He lists the costs rudeness has for individuals, the economy, and society: stress, loss of self-esteem, loss of productivity, and the potential of violence. He also discusses the cause of rudeness, which is simplifies as a bad “state of mind”.
In the second chapter, Forni presents and explains how to prevent rudeness by listing and explaining eight rules for a civil life:
Slow down and be present in your life
Listen to the voice of empathy
Keep a positive attitude
Respect others and grant them plenty of validation
Disagree graciously and refrain from arguing
Get to know the people around you
Pay attention to the small things
Ask, don’t tell
In the third chapter, Forni writes about how we can “accept real-life rudeness.” He quotes Epictetus, who encourages us to want things to happen as they happen for a life to go well. After all, we can’t control other people, and if we expect that there will be rudeness in life, we won’t be surprised. But once we accept the situation, then we can act upon it, which may be to remove ourselves or to refuse to be react. “Rudeness is someone else’s problem foisted on you,” Forni notes (62). Once we accept reality, we may choose to respond appropriately and even assertively to redirect the situation.
In the fourth chapter, Forni writes about how we respond to rudeness, but does so by beginning with a wonderful (and very rude example) from two 18th Century British politicians. Scolding his rival, John Montagu cried, “Upon my soul, Wilkes, I don’t know whether you’ll die upon the gallows or of syphilis.” Wilkes responded, “That will depend, my Lord, on whether I embrace your principles, or your mistress” (67). Forni suggests that when we encounter rudeness, we cool off, calm ourselves, don’t take it personally (most often it’s not personal), and then decide what we need to do. While we do not need to respond to all situations, we don’t want to ignore all situations, either. When we do decide to confront, we need to state the problem, inform the offending party of its effect upon you, and request such behavior to cease. Forni then lists special situations such as bullying, rudeness at work, and rudeness with children.
The second half of the book consists of a series of case studies. Starting with those close to us, Forni offers examples of rudeness that we might face along with a solution to how we might confront the behavior. Other chapters deal with rudeness from neighbors, at the workplace, on the road, from service workers, and within digital communications. While these chapters contained many important ideas and examples, it essentially applied the principals laid out in the first half of the book. It’s too bad that Forni is no longer with us. He could have updated this issue with a section on political rudeness.
Another of Forni’s books have been on reading list for some time. This book was brought to me by a colleague, who had found it at a book exchange and brought it for me, knowing of my interest in civility. I was glad to read it and would recommend it. I also look forward to reading more of Forni’s writings.
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N. T. Wright, Surprised by Scripture: Engaging Contemporary Issues (New York: HarperOne, 2014), 223 pages including a scripture index.
This is a collection of twelve lectures crafted into independent articles addressing many contemporary issues in the world: the debate over science and religion, the role of women within the church, the environmental crisis, evil, natural disasters, politics, and the future. For those who have some familiarity with Wright’s theology, you will see many of these topics addressed with his recognizable theology of the cross and resurrection ushering in a new era in which we now live. The resurrection is the eighth day of a new creation brought to us by God the Redeemer (paralleling the new creation in Genesis). For Wright, the purpose of salvation is to restore us to stewards of creation (36). Wright is also critical of the adoption of Epicureanism during the Enlightenment, which allowed us to do away with “God.” The result is that we’ve gone back to the old gods of Aphrodite, Mammon, and Mars. In other words, we’ve “got rid of God upstairs so that we can live our own lives the way we want…. And have fallen back into the clutches of forces and energies that are bigger than ourselves… forces we might as well recognize as god” (149-154). Wright also draws some interesting comparisons from his native home in the United Kingdom to the religious situation in American. He points out how the “right” is seen as the savior of religion in American, and how it’s the “left” in Britain that for the past forty years have tried to restore religion to the public life (164). The closing essays looks at the future. While debunking ideas such as the rapture and others end world scenarios popularized by the “Left Behind” series, he leaves his readers with a more hopeful vision of the future. I enjoyed these essays. They left me with a lot to ponder and I recommend the book to others interested in how the Christian faith might inform our lives and world today.
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Laura Davenport, Dear Vulcan: poems (Baton Rouge: LSU Press, 2020), 63 pages.
There is much about the South in these poems. Her grandfather’s grandfather walks back from Richmond in the spring of 1865, burying his burdens along the way. A girl becomes a woman in the industrial city of Birmingham, Alabama, with its mile-long coal trains snaking around closed steel mills. While the title poem, “Dear Vulcan,” is set in Birmingham, Davenport explores many places across the region. There are urban and rural settings, places inland and others by the ocean. Hell is seen in a basement pool hall. The August thunderstorm at night “washes summer metallic edge from the air.” There’s the city without women, which keeps reappearing, populated by a boy experiencing the world. Sexuality is explored in parked cars, church basements, and by a married couple drawn to each other in bed after painting the room. In each poem, the reader stumbles upon more pleasant surprises.
While I found much about the South in these poems that I related to, the one missing element was race. Birmingham was not just the Southern Pittsburgh; it was also the city of Bull O’Conner and the 16th Street Baptist Church where four young black girls waiting for their Sunday School class to begin, died in a racist firebombing. Perhaps, one could hope, this could be forgotten and buried or painted over, and we could have a South where race no longer mattered. But that’s my bias, instilled by growing up during the Civil Rights era. But maybe the absence of race (as in women in the poems in cities without women) is that the South often struggles to ignore that which it doesn’t want to face. In my own personal life, I am still amazed that I could live in a city in Virginia for three years, (this was before they segregated schools) and never realize that we (whites) made up only 20% of the population. For the South as a region to come of age, it’ll have to learn to face the unspeakable. In the meantime, children become adults and must experience the world around them which Davenport captures beautifully.
I met Davenport through a writer’s group that I’m in. I was hoping to catch her book release, but it was the day after I had flown back from Austin, Texas, just as the country was shutting down over the fear of COVID-19. As I had been around several hundred of my “best friends” inside two airplanes, I decided it was best if I self-quarantined. I missed the reading at the Book Lady Bookstore but was able to pick up a signed copy of the book thanks to the “Booklady” (who had an employee drop the book off at my office on his way home). How’s that for service!
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Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
April 19, 2020
John 20:19-29
Throughout this Easter Season, we’re looking at post-resurrection stories of Jesus. We find these mostly in the gospels of Luke and John. As we left off last week, Jesus had risen and had appeared to Mary Magdalene. He sent her off on a mission to tell the disciples. Prior to her arrival, all they know is that Jesus’ tomb is open, and his body is gone. They are fearful, worrying that they may end up facing the same kind of death Jesus’ endured. But that changes.
What is this resurrection about? What does it mean for us, today? In Richard Rohr’s devotional this week, he quoted Franciscan sister and scientist Ilia Delio:
Christianity can help us realize that death and resurrection are part of the evolutionary path toward wholeness; letting go of isolated existence for the sake of deeper union. Something dies but something new is born—which is why the chaos of our times is, in a strange way, a sign of hope; something new is being born within.[1]
Is this a time of hope? In this time of pandemic, what do we need to let go of? How might we become more whole? How might we develop a deeper union with Christ? Our text provides some suggestions.
We’re continuing to look at art to help us get into the Scriptures. Today’s painting, of Thomas checking out Jesus’ wounds, is by Caravaggio, an Italian painter of the late 16th and early 17th Century. Let’s get into the head of the other disciple looking over Thomas in this depiction of the event. What do you think was going on in his mind?
Like Thomas, I also have doubts. I was just not willing to speak up. Can this really be Jesus? After all, his body was so broken when they pulled him off the cross. Yet, he’s now in front of us. Jesus insists that Thomas, who doubted when they said Jesus had risen from the dead, stick his finger into his wound. I’m watching. Thomas is reluctant, but Jesus grabs his wrist and pulls his hand toward the wound. Can this really be the same Jesus, that just a little over a week ago, hung on a cross? And is he the same Jesus we followed throughout Galilee? Will people believe us when we tell what we’ve experienced? I no longer understand what is happening, but I know that nothing will ever be the same.
Let us read from the gospel of John, chapter 20, beginning with verse 19.
What a week it. From the Parade to the cross and now on the evening of the first day of a new week, the disciples gather in secret. The doors are locked. Everyone is exhausted. Fright and fatigue show on their faces. After three years, they only have each other. And now there’s a rumor going around, started by Mary Magdalene, that Jesus is alive. Some think it possible, but others believe it’s just idle tale?”[2]
And then suddenly, as the sun sinks in the West, Jesus appears. How did he get through the locked doors? But here he is, when he belongs, in the middle of the middle of the gathered disciples. Jesus was the one who unites the disciples. He’s always in the middle. He was even in the middle of those crucified on Friday. The middle is where Jesus belongs.[3] Remember that!
Holding up his hands, greeting his friends, Jesus says: “Peace be with you.” What a sight! The nail holes are evident. There’s a rip in his side where the Roman spear was thrust. The fatigue on their faces disappear, but the fright remains.
Again, Jesus says: “Peace be with you,” only this time he continues, telling them that just as he was sent by the Father, he’s sending them out into the world. The unique thing about the resurrection is that Jesus speaks to the disciples as if they are his equals and able to continue in his mission. Then, reminiscence of God blowing breath into the nostrils of the clay figure there in the Garden, giving life to Adam, Jesus blows upon the disciples.[4] Obviously, they weren’t worried about COVID-19.
A week later, the disciples are again in the house… Again, it’s the first day of the week, Sunday, the day after the Jewish Sabbath, the day of resurrection, the primary day that most Christians worship.[5] Again, the doors are locked. The shades are pulled… So much for Jesus’ command to go out into the world… It’s been a week since they’ve seen the resurrected Christ, with his wounds still visible, yet they’re still hiding, still afraid for their lives, still afraid to go out into the world… Then Jesus reappears. And, where is he? Standing there among the disciples—in the middle—where Jesus belongs.
Thomas, the empiricist who wants to see, sense, and touch Jesus before he commits himself to believing is also present. Knowing this, Jesus invites Thomas to place his finger in his wounds… Imagine Thomas reaching out his hand. And then he sees. In awe, Thomas cries out, “My Lord and my God!”
We could argue that this is the climax of John’s gospel. “My Lord and my God,” acknowledges that Jesus is more than the Messiah. We get a whiff of this in Matthew’s gospel where we’re told the women at the tomb worshipped Jesus.[6] We don’t worship a person; we worship God. Thomas takes this a step further and declares that Jesus is God. His confession has gone beyond all other confessions of the disciples up to this point.[7] A doubter at first, Thomas is the first disciple to recognize Jesus as more than a teacher. Jesus is God. Furthermore, Thomas’ proclamation is a political statement. Roman emperors were addressed as “Our lord and god.” Here, Thomas confesses who truly is Lord and God, and it’s not Caesar or anyone else to whom we might be lured into professing allegiance.[8] By calling Jesus Lord, Thomas asserts Jesus is worthy to obey. By calling Jesus God, Thomas declares that Jesus should be worshipped, as we’re doing today.
N. T. Wright suggests that Thomas serves as a parable for our need to both have the historical and scientific facts. He wanted to touch, to experience, and to see. But when he claims Jesus to be God, he transcends the historical and scientific realm into something “higher and richer.” We’re into a new creation.[9]
What all this means to us, today, two millenniums after the resurrection? Jesus’ last words in this passage are interesting. It’s a blessing on us. “Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe,” Jesus says. Did you hear that? He’s talking about you and me; he’s blessing those of us who have not had an opportunity to stick our fingers into his wounds. Instead of seeing, we believe due to the presence of the Holy Spirit and the testimony of others who have felt Jesus’ presence in their lives. And because we have faith in Jesus Christ, we’re to listen to his teachings and to live lives that strive to glorify him. That’s the challenge we have, as individuals, to listen to Jesus and to live faithful.
Furthermore, as a community of believers, we’re able to offer forgive sins. That’s quite a task. You know, there are a lot of good things that the church does in the community that other groups can also do, and in some cases these groups can even do it better than the church. But there is one thing that no other group can do. The government can’t do it, civic clubs can’t do it, political parties can’t do it—and that’s forgive sins. As God, Jesus has this power and he grants it to his church. For this reason, the church is an essential business. But the church isn’t a building; the church is wherever God’s people are at, which now, hopefully, is in the safety of our homes.
There’s a lot of hope in this passage. We have a God who can do incredible things and I believe God is doing that right now. This pandemic is offering us a chance to pause and re-evaluate our lives and what is important. We have plenty of time as we sit around the house watching TV and reading novels. But just remember this, the church isn’t here in this building, it’s where you and all the other believers are located. And, more importantly, as it was in that first Easter, and the next Sunday, Jesus needs to be present, in the middle of us. It’s easy to be depress these days, but Jesus is here, ready to give us strength and hope and encouragement. While this pandemic might suggest that it’s not safe to invite people into our homes, the exception is Jesus. Invite him into your home. Spend time with him during these weeks of isolation, asking him what you might learn from this time. For Jesus is not in the grave, he’s descended to the Father, but he’s left behind his Spirit to guide and comfort us. And for that, we should be thankful. Amen.
©2020
[1] https://cac.org/death-transformed-2020-04-12/?utm_source=cm&utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=dm&utm_content=summary
[2] Luke 24:11, “and these words seemed to be an idle tale.” John’s gospel only tells about Jesus’ encounter with Mary Magdalene prior to meeting his disciples later in the day. See John 20:1-19.
[3] Frederick Dale Bruner, The Gospel of John: A Commentary (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2014), 1162.
[4] See Genesis 2:7.
[5] Christians worship on the first day of the week because the Lord rose that Day (John 20) and the Holy Spirit descended upon the church on that day (Acts 2:1ff). See also 1 Corinthians 16:2.
[6] Matthew 28:9.
[7] As an example, the climax in Mark’s gospel comes with Peter’s confession that Jesus is the Messiah, but Thomas makes a stronger Christological statement, proclaiming that Jesus is also God. See Mark 8:29.
[8] Raymond Brown, The Gospel According to John XIII-XXI: The Anchor Bible (New York: Doubleday, 1970), 1047.
[9] N. T. Wright, Surprised by Scripture: Engaging Contemporary Issues (New York: HarperOne, 2014), 60.
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
John 20:1-18
Easter Sunday, April 12, 2020
Throughout Lent, we have been looking at pieces of art from around the world as a way to get into the Scriptures for each Sunday. We’re going to continue this tradition through the Easter Season. Today, we are looking at another artwork from the country of Cameroon, as the artist imagines Jesus and Mary Magdalene looking like the people of that country. Let’s think for a moment about what Mary Magdalene is thinking up to this point in the story:
I’ve stuck by Jesus ever since I encountered him that day on the road, long before we came to Jerusalem, when he freed me of those seven demons that had tormented me.[1] I gave him what I had to support his ministry. I followed him from Galilee to Jerusalem. This past week has been overwhelming, from the glorious entry into Jerusalem, beginning with the waving of palm branches and the shouting of Hosanna. Whenever I could be close to Jesus and listen to his teachings, I was there. I heard him teach in the temple about giving to Caesar what was Caesar’s and giving to God what was God’s, and about the generosity of the poor woman with two coins, whom most ignored, but whom Jesus lifted up as an example of faith. I was there, in the background at the dinners, and I followed Jesus as he was led away like a criminal. How a man who had freed me of such evil could be considered a criminal and a threat to the nation, I’ll never understand. I watched in horror as he was beaten and mocked and then led to the hill of death, where they crucified him. I couldn’t believe what was happening.
I’ve had a hard time sleeping the last two nights. I kept wanting to be with him again, but I know he’s dead. When the birds began to sing in the predawn hours, I decided to get up and head to the tomb. I wasn’t prepared to find it empty, and Jesus’ body gone. I wondered where they had taken my Lord, and ran and told the disciples. Afterwards, as I was wandering around lost, I couldn’t believe my ears. He called me by name, “Mary.” Things are never going to be the same…[2]
Now let us listen to today’s lesson as I read from the 20th Chapter of John’s gospel.[3]
We have spent all of Lent looking at the last week of Jesus’ earthly ministry: From the entry into Jerusalem on what we call Palm Sunday, to the teachings at the temple and the various dinners and then the betrayal that led to Jesus’ death. On Friday, we appeared to be the end of the story. Jesus is dead. His lifeless body is sealed in a tomb as the sun is going down on the day for preparing for the Sabbath. Everyone returns to their homes or where they’ve been staying. I’m sure Caiaphas, the chief priest, and Pilate, the Roman governor, along others in leadership positions are glad to be done with this rabble-rouser. They may have even rested well on the Sabbath. Others, like the disciples and those who had followed Jesus were troubled. But they, too, felt it was over. They saw Jesus’ limp body be taken from the cross. But, as we know, the story doesn’t end.
John begins the 20th Chapter with several statements about time. It’s early. It’s the first day of the week. In the first chapter, John’s gospel has an echo of Genesis. Both start the same way, “In the beginning…” John takes that well-known phrase from the opening chapter of Scripture and applies it to Jesus. Jesus, the Word, was with God at the beginning of creation. God is doing something new. As in the seven days of Creation, when God created heaven and earth, we now have a new week. In the first week of Creation, God created humanity, the crown of creation, on day six. Now, on day six, God once again does his triumphant work, reconciling a sinful humanity with the divine through the sacrifice of God’s Son. That’s Good Friday. God rests on the seventh day, the Sabbath, our Saturday. And then, on the first day of the new week, in those early morning hours, God begins a new age.
As Paul proclaims, Christ is the first fruit of those who died.[4] With the resurrection of Christ, God is beginning to do something new. N. T. Wright explains in his essay on John 20, the Easter story is more than just God putting a happy ending to a really bad week. Easter is the beginning of God’s new creation. The work of the Father in creation, and the work of the Son in redemption, are complete.[5] It’s now the eighth day. We’re in a new era.
The reports of this new era start with a restless Mary Magdalene going to the tomb while it’s still dark and seeing that it’s open. Of course, her experience, as is ours, is that once you are dead, there’s no coming back. So she runs to tell the disciples. Two of them, Peter and probably John, race each other back to the gravesite.[6] And there they find an empty tomb, with the linen cloths that had wrapped Jesus’ body left behind. But none of them know what to think. In verse 8, we’re told that the faster disciple believed, but what did he believe? The next verse seems to indicate that he only believed the tomb was open, and that Mary’s report was factual. They did not understand that Jesus must rise from the dead. So instead of hanging around, they head back to bed.
Mary hangs around. We get a sense of what she is thinking when she answers the angels who want to know why she’s crying. “They’ve taken away my Lord, and I don’t know where they laid him.” Mary Magdalene still believes that Jesus is dead. She assumes, because she can’t imagine otherwise, that some grave robber broke into the tomb and took the body away. In her mind, this is a terrible deed. It would be a terrible deed. You don’t mess with dead bodies. Even our military prosecutes soldiers who desecrate enemy dead. After all, once they are dead, they no longer pose a threat and are no longer enemies.[7]
Mary Magdalene, who has a front row seat at what God is doing, can’t imagine what’s happening. Even when she first sees Jesus, she assumes he’s the gardener. After all, dead men don’t walk around. She thinks the gardener may even be responsible for removing Jesus’ body. It’s only when Jesus calls her by name does she realizes that what has happened is more marvelous than she could ever imagine. John has already told us that the Good Shepherd knows his sheep by name.[8] And Jesus knew Mary, and when she hears her name, she recognizes him.
In Jesus’ post-resurrection appearances, he is always assigning his followers with a mission. Jesus assignment for Mary Magdalene is insightful. Go and tell my brothers…” he says. The disciples are elevated; instead of disciples, they’re now brothers, on equal terms with Jesus. Furthermore, Mary is lifted up into this family, for Jesus tells her that he’ll ascend to “my Father and your Father, my God and your God.” Having been called by name, Mary Magdalene is now a part of Jesus’ family.[9] She runs off to obey Jesus, going to the disciples and saying “I have seen the Lord!” Could there ever be a more wonderful proclamation? Their world would never be the same.
This is an Easter unlike any we’ve experienced before. Instead of being together, wearing new clothes, bringing flowers to decorate the cross afterwards while kids hunt Easter eggs, we’re all separated as we strive to stop this virus that has unleashed death upon the earth. In some ways, we’re like the disciples, who were essentially hiding on that first Easter. Yes, Mary was out, as well as Peter and John for a short period, but once they saw Jesus’ body is gone, they head back to where the rest of the disciples are hiding. In fact, if you keep reading, you’ll see the disciples were not only hiding, they were behind locked doors.[10] But this time of isolation didn’t last for them, nor will it last forever for us. Sooner or later, things will go back to some kind of normality.
We will once again be able to gather and to enjoy each other’s presence. Yes, we’ll once again show off Easter bonnets and hunt eggs and flower a cross. But we won’t be able to go back to exactly the way things were, and that’s okay. This was true for the disciples, too. They didn’t go back to those carefree days of traveling around Galilee with Jesus. But that was okay, too, because they were experiencing something new and even better. They got to tell the world the good news.
This is the meaning of this “great pause” we are living through right now.[11] In a way, we’re given a gift. We have the time we need to ponder what’s important in our lives. And if we can hold on to what’s important, what we value and cherish, our lives after things return to normal will be much richer. Friends, use this time, this gift, to grow closer to our Lord and to learn to depend upon him. And if we do that, we can be like Mary Magdalene, so when our Savior through the Holy Spirit calls us by name, we’ll be ready to answer. Amen.
©2020
[1] Luke 8:2
[2] Inspired by John 20 and an article on Mary Magdalene in Frederick Buechner, Peculiar Treasures: A Biblical Who’s Who (New York: Harper and Row, 1979), 101-103.
[3] In the worship service, the Reverend Deanie Strength will do the opening monologue of Mary Magdalene’s thoughts and read the Scriptures.
[4] 1 Corinthians 15:20
[5] N. T. Wright, Surprised by Scripture, (New York: HarperOne, 2014), 209.
[6] While John’s name is not given, it is generally assumed that he is the other disciple.
[7] For such rules from all nations including the United States, see https://ihl-databases.icrc.org/customary-ihl/eng/docs/v2_rul_rule113
[8] John 10:3.
[9] Frederick Dale Bruner, The Gospel of John: A Commentary (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2012), 1152 & 1154.
[10] John 20:19.
[11] The term “great pause” comes from Julio Vincent Gambuto, “Prepare for the Ultimate Gaslighting,” April 10, 2020, https://medium.com/@juliovincent/prepare-for-the-ultimate-gaslighting-6a8ce3f0a0e0.
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
Mark 14:32-43
April 5, 2020
Our text for today, as we finish looking at the events of Jesus’ final week of earthly ministry, is his prayer in the Garden. It’s a time of temptation. Jesus is worried. He knows what will happen and grieves. He’s troubled. A lot of us may be like Jesus on this night, as we worry about the future and this unseen enemy that we all face. May we learn from his prayer.
As we’ve done throughout this Lenten Series of looking at the events of Jesus’ final week of earthly ministry, we will use a painting. This painting come from the African country of Cameroon. We see Jesus praying while his inner-circle of disciples nod-off. Let’s imagine what Peter is thinking as he falls asleep.
Too much wine, perhaps. Or maybe I’m so sleepy because I’m just so very tired. This week is taking its toll. Watching our every step, wondering when the other shoe will drop, afraid that the commotion stirred up about Jesus will result in something terrible. I’ve been on edge ever since we got here.
But oh my, that parade! Who would have thought that this man I met on the shores of my fishing spot would turn out to be three years of non-stop surprises?! The entrance into Jerusalem was more amazing than all of it combined. I felt sure that I was part of something that was going to change everything! Now I’m not so sure. Not everyone, it turned out, was so pleased about Jesus’ arrival here. We’ve been under scrutiny for days.
Then tonight at the table, Jesus revealed that one of us was about to hand him over. My gut turns over with the thought of it. Could we, who’ve become family, my family, turn against one another under pressure? Fear threatens our very bonds!
So why put ourselves out here in the open? I need to stay awake, keep watch! I’ve got my sword. I know Jesus told me not to bring it, but come on! All he seems to think we need to do is pray. He asked us to pray with him. Yes, I pray, I’m praying, I’ll fervently pray! But is it enough? How can God help us if soldiers arrive? And yet… I’m so sleepy.
Soloist sings: Enter
Enter the story
Enter the place you belong
Not just looking on
For this is your story
Enter the story
Enter
Enter the passion
Enter the place we belong
Not just looking on
For this is our passion
Enter the passion
[tag] Enter the story…
Enter the passion…
Enter his passion.[1]
There are many paintings of Jesus praying in the garden in addition to this one from Cameroon. One of my favorites hung in the Session room in the congregation I served in Utah. I always felt it was an appropriate picture for a board room. Board rooms often have photos of the company founders, or the company president. Such paintings remind us of our heritage. Having Jesus in a church board room reminds us of who’s really in charge. It’s not the Session. Jesus Christ is the head of the church.
In this painting, Jesus overlooks Jerusalem. A few lights can be seen in houses below. Just above the horizon, a full moon hangs in the sky but it is partly covered by clouds or fog and you get the sense that landscape might soon be totally dark. By the way, since Passover occurs at the full moon in the Jewish month of Nisan, this part of the that something sinister will soon happen. Looking back on this final week of Jesus’ earthly ministry, we have been given hints all along that something isn’t right, something is going to happen. Now, we’re at the decisive point. Does Jesus go through with this plan or not?
Leaving the bulk of the disciples behind, Jesus takes the three disciples that consist of his inner-core and heads into a garden. For those steeped in Scripture, a garden recalls the perfect adobe of Adam and Eve, but also the temptation that occurred there.[2] And certainly, now, Jesus is to be tempted once more, perhaps ever a greater temptation. Does he follow his Father’s will and endure the shame and pain of a crucifixion? Or does he slip out of town and head back to Galilee? This is a pivotal point.[3] Does he go forward and experience the horror of an abandoned death? He can still back out, but that won’t be the case once Judas arrives.
Matthew and Mark both identity this garden as “Gethsemane,” a Hebrew word that means oil press. Luke says it’s on the Mount of Olives, which is a fitting places for an oil press, and John’s gospel says this occurs across the Kidron Valley, which cuts between the temple and the Mount of Olives.[4] So essentially, all the gospels are in general agreement on the rough location of Jesus’ prayer. And they agree that he prays fervently.[5]
Jesus positions the three disciples close by. While he wants to be alone with the Father, he also wants to be close to friends. He asks them to stay awake. Yet, they immediately fall asleep. Was it the wine? Was it the exhausting schedule? Are they worried and depressed and the only way they can shut their brains off is through sleep? Jesus steps away and prays, then comes back to check on the disciples. He does this three times. Each time, they’re asleep. This compounds his troubles. He will have to go through the experience all alone. After his third trip back to the disciples, he arouses them and announces the arrival of the betrayer.
What can we learn from this story? Let me suggest three things. First, to prepare ourselves for trouble, we need to take our concerns to God in prayer. Prayer is important even when we know the answer we’ll receive might be no.[6] God the Father wasn’t going to remove his cup, yet Jesus prayed. We might pray, “Lord, take this cancer away.” Sometimes God does, sometimes God doesn’t. But in praying and in bringing our personal concerns to God, we are drawn in closer to our Creator, and that’s a benefit that can help us cross troubled waters.
At a time like the present, we all need to be in prayer, for ourselves, our friends, and the world. We need to pray for our leaders, for those who are sick, for those who have lost loved ones, for those who have lost their jobs, and for those who are treating and fighting the virus. But we also need to pray for ourselves, our own struggles and for our own peace of mind. For we can endure almost anything if we have God on our side.
A second thing we can learn from this story is that there is a benefit of being supported in prayer. While God will hear our prayers, there is something to be said about having others praying with us. Like they were in the garden, separated by some distance, and like us now dealing the COVID-19 and being separated by six feet, we need to remember that we don’t have to lay hands on one another for our prayer to be effective. We must be willing to ask or to be asked to pray. And when someone asks us to pray for them, we should consider it an honor and fulfill their request. It helps to be supported in our prayer.
And finally, we learn that even when we fail come through (and we’re all human and won’t always do what we should), we should remember that God doesn’t abandon us for petty failures. Look at the disciples. None of them could keep their eyes open on this most important night of their lives, but Jesus didn’t throw them under the bus. Instead, he faithfully kept his promise and even though Peter would go on to deny him, Jesus would use him to build his church. In fact, these three—Peter, James and John—would all become major players in the church following the resurrection. So even if we fail, don’t lose hope. Keep going and trust that God is with you.
These are tough times in which we’re living. Let us do what we can to support one another. We begin our preparation in prayer. Amen.
©2020
[1] This edited monologue and song is from the Worship Design Series: “Entering the Passion of Jesus: Picturing Ourselves in the Story.” Subscription from www.worshipdesignstudio.com.
[2] Amy-Jill Levine, Entering the Passion of Jesus: A Beginner’s Guide to Holy Week (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 2018), 133. See Genesis 2 & 3.
[3] William L. Lane, The Gospel of Mark: NICNT (Grand Rapids, Eerdmans, 1974), 516.
[4] See Matthew 26:26, Luke 22:39, and John 18:1.
[5] John’s gospel doesn’t have Jesus praying in the garden, but while still at the table. His prayer isn’t even for himself, but for his disciples and is found in John 17.
[6] Levine, 132.
The 2020 baseball season was scheduled to kickoff this past weekend. Unfortunately, it has been postponed due to the current pandemic. So here is a poem I wrote this weekend (you can even listen to it–how neat is that) along with a review of a book I recently read with my book club on the 1949 baseball season. Enjoy and wash your hands!.
I am not sure why there is not the arrow to start in the strip below, but if you click just to the left of the 00:00, you can start the recording. It’s a minute and 16 seconds long.
David Halberstam, Summer of ‘49, (1989, New York: HarperPerennial, 2002), 354 pages, with a bibliography, index, and some black and white photographs.
In the post wars years, as players returned from the war, baseball captured the imagination of Americans. It was America’s sport. Football and basketball prominence was still in the future. The ballpark was a place where the melting pot vision could be witnessed firsthand. Immigrant children like the DiMaggios (there were three brothers who played in the majors) were second generation Italians and stars. Then, staring in 1947 with Jackie Robinson, African-Americans were included in the roosters. Postwar ball reached a new height with the thrilling 1948 pennant race in the American League. In the days before playoff series, the top team in each league went to the World Series, and if there was a tie, there was a one game playoff. Three teams were in contention in ‘48: the Cleveland Indians, Boston Red Sox’s and the New York Yankees. The Indians won, leaving the younger Red Sox’s and the older Yankees disappointed.
The 1949 season turned out to be just as exciting as the Yankees and Red Sox’s battled it out for the American League pennant. The season began with the Yankees great Joe DiMaggios (who’d bridged the team from the Ruth/Gehrig era to the Mantle/Maris era) being out with an injured foot. The other great hitter was the Red Sox’s Ted Williams. Also playing for the Red Sox’s was Joe’s brother, Dominic. It was an exciting season in which the Yankees won the pennant in the last inning of the last game as the two teams battled it out.
Halberstam, who was a teenager during this season, captures the excitement that came down to the final inning. Once again, the Red Sox’s are disappointed. The Yankees win. Halberstam tells the story of this season, providing insight into the financial workings of baseball as well the changes that were taking place. This was a time when players still mostly traveled in trains, but planes were making their debut. It was also a time that most games, which had previously not been broadcast locally, were being on the air and great names were emerging in the broadcast booth, many who would soon become the well-known reporters who overshadowed the previously honored sportswriters. Even television made an appearance during the World Series. And for the Yankees, new names were rising up such as their new manager, Casey Stengel, and their rookie catcher, Yogi Berra. Other players who would grow into greatness were also beginning to make themselves known such as Willie Mays (whom the Yankees took a pass on due to his race).
Although I have never liked the Yankees, I was impressed with their teams discipline and how they instilled hard playing in each member of the team. Joe DiMaggio exemplifies this when asked why he plays so hard in games in which little was at stake and he responded that there might be someone in the crowd who’d never seen him play. For anyone who enjoys baseball, this is a good read.
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
John 13:1-20
March 29, 2020
Before reading the scripture, I want us to take a look at our image for the day, which can help us get into the text. We’re looking at part of a mural by the late David Paynter titled, “Jesus washing the disciples’ feet.” The setting is along the Sri Lankan coastline. Zoom in on the guy on the left, a servant, who’s looking at what’s going on.[1] Let’s get into his head:
Jesus and the disciples have booked my master’s banquet hall. I have prepared everything according to their wishes and am ready with the water and basin as I always am. Years ago, my parents gave me to the owner as collateral for the debt they owed. But things did not go well for them, and the debt was never repaid. And so, I work to pay it off. Roman law says that someday I could be a freed person, but I will never again have the full rights in society. I’m marked as a slave for life. I keep my head down and do what the master asks because legally he has the right to punish me.
So, here I am with the bowl, just waiting for the go-ahead. The honored guest will be first, of course, and I know which one he is by where he’s seated. This is protocol, everyone has a place according to status. When he shows up, I recognize him and remember the stories I have heard about this teacher. He says things that upset those invested in this system of status… things like “the last shall be first.” I just can’t imagine a world like he describes.
And then he comes up to me. Smiling, he takes the basin of water from my hands. He takes my servant’s towel and wraps it around his own waist and kneels, inviting Peter to come sit. This is going to be no ordinary night. I realize my life, my view of myself and my station in life, is never going to be the same.
Sung:
Enter
Enter the story
Enter the place you belong
Not just looking on
For this is your story
Enter the story
Enter
Enter the passion
Enter the place we belong
Not just looking on
For this is our passion
Enter the passion
Enter the story…
Enter the passion…
Enter his passion.[2]
Our Scripture this morning comes from the 13th Chapter of John’s gospel. Read John 13:1-20.
Last week we explored the first meal recorded during Jesus’ final week of earthly ministry. This is the dinner in Simon’s home interrupted by the woman with perfume anointing Jesus. Today, we’re looking at the second meal of this week. Of course, there weren’t just two meals eaten during these seven days. These are just the two recalled in the gospels. Both meals are rich with symbols. Last week, we could almost smell the expensive perfume being poured. This week, we have the bread and the wine, the foot washing, and the betrayal, all mixed in. We know this dinner as the “Last Supper” and there’s enough material here for two dozen sermons. I promise I won’t exhaust the passage.
All four of the gospels have these stories about Jesus’ final meal with his disciples. John’s gospel, unlike Matthew, Mark and Luke, has a unique twist to it. Instead of it being the Passover, it’s the day before the Passover. You could say that in John’s gospel, they start partying early! Seriously, John wants us to think of Jesus as the Passover lamb, the one who was slain for our sins.[3] So the crucifixion occurs on Passover. The other thing John emphasizes is that there is evil lurking, but Jesus allows it to go on. It’s not like Jesus was dragged to the cross, as would have happened with most of those condemned to such a death, but that Jesus willingly gives up his life to fulfill a greater purpose. So, Jesus allows Judas to do his deed.
Interestingly, unlike the other gospels, John doesn’t recall Jesus reciting the words of the Lord’s Supper… There’s no, “This is my body broken for you…” or “This cup is the new covenant…” Instead, we’re told that as they enjoy the meal, Jesus does something strange. But before we get there, John tells us that Jesus loved the disciples to the end. Now, this can be taken that Jesus loved the disciples all along, up to this point, but there’s more here than that. It’s not merely a chronological statement, implying that up to this point in time Jesus has loved his disciples. Instead, it implies the fullness and completeness of his love. He will love them unto death, which will become clearer as the events of the night and next day unfolds.
Jesus then assumes the role of the servant. For those of us living on this side of the resurrection, we immediately think of Paul’s “Christ Hymn” in Philippians, where we’re told that “Christ emptied himself, taking the form of a slave.”[4] Like a servant, like the dude in the picture whose job this should have been, Jesus goes around the table with a basin and washes the disciples’ feet. This is an example of extreme humility and sets up the rest of our reading. There are two implications of Jesus’ action. The first, which is covered in verses 6 to 11, is theological. This deals with our relationship to God. The second, covered in verses 12-20 is ethical. It focuses on how we relate to others.[5] Let’s look at each.
Peter has a problem with what Jesus is doing. In his book, this is just not right. The Master shouldn’t wash the dirty feet of the disciples. But Jesus not only offers to do this, he insists that he must. In verse 8, Jesus says that if he doesn’t wash Peter’s feet, he’ll have no share in him. The Gospel is summarized in this short sentence. We must be open to Jesus taking on our sins, washing them away, if we want to be in fellowship with him. This is the theological part of this passage. If we think we are too good or to dirty for Jesus to wash our feet, we won’t be able to share in his free grace.[6] Jesus freely takes up the towel and basin, just as he freely takes up the cross, and we have to accept him. Theologically, if we are not open to God doing for us what we can’t do for ourselves, we can’t experience grace.
The second implication of the foot washing is ethical. “I’ve done this for you,” Jesus says, “so you need to do it to one another.” Jesus has shown us how to live our lives. We are called to live in mutual service, showing submission to one another, being willing to forgive when we are wronged, and having patience. All these traits, Jesus demonstrated. We too must learn from the Master. We must be willing to follow his example.
So how do we live this way at a time when we’re called to keep our social distance for the sake of society? Obviously, Jesus wasn’t worried about COVID-19 when he washed the feet of his disciples, and these days we’re told, again and again, to be sure to wash our own hands. We are living in a unique time. After all, we been called to sit on the couch and watch TV as if that’s a sacrifice. But we got to do more. We are still the church deployed in the world.
Who wasn’t moved by the story of the priest in Italy whose parishioners purchased him a respirator? But the priest insisted the respirator be used on a child who was ill.[7] He died. That’s showing the extreme side of what Jesus is talking about here.
But there are other things we all need to be doing. Staying away from others and isolating ourselves will help slow this disease. With the marvels of technology, we can still be connected through the phone and over the internet. And don’t forget the U. S. mail. The Session and Pastors of this church have made a commitment to call every member every week through this crisis. If you don’t get a call, let me know. We’ll see to it that you are included. And you can join us in calling and checking in on one another. After all, we do have new directories that are well suited for this. There are those who live by themselves and are lonely. Let’s do what we can to stay connected. We can also uphold one another in our prayers. We can write letters of encouragement. We can still be supportive of organizations that are making sure the most vulnerable in our communities are safe and cared for during this scary time. Did you know that this congregation collected 190 pairs of socks on the last day we were able to meet in worship? This Monday, those socks will be taken to Union Mission to be distributed.
Finally, we’re living in a time when we should be extremely grateful for others. Think of the sacrifices others are making, as they assume the role of the servant. Those work in the hospital, whether they are doctors and surgeons or the cleaning staff, they’re on the front line for us. And how about those who work in the club here at the Landings, working hard to get for food and groceries to us. Those who pick up our trash. And don’t forget the grocery workers, those in the shipping industry, those making masks and gowns for the medical profession. At a time like this, we need to remember all these people we depend on and be thankful and grateful.
Jesus comes before us at the table, with a towel wrapped around his waist and a basin. He kneels. Do we let him wash our feet? And, if so, are we willing to humble ourselves and serve others in the manner that he has served us? These are questions we need to ask ourselves. Amen.
©2020
[1] A copy of this mural is in the “Art in the Christian Tradition” collection at Vanderbilt Divinity Library in Nashville, Tennessee. The original is in Trinity College.
[2] This edited monologue and song is from the Worship Design Series: “Entering the Passion of Jesus: Picturing Ourselves in the Story.” Subscription from www.worshipdesignstudio.com.
[3] This image of Jesus as the Passover lamb becomes clearer in John’s revelation. See Revelation 5:12 and 6:1.
[4] Philippians 2:7.
[5] Frederick Dale Bruner, The Gospel of John: A Commentary (Grand Rapids, MIhigan: Eerdmans,2012), 749.
[6] Bruner, 765.
[7] https://nypost.com/2020/03/24/italian-priest-dies-of-coronavirus-after-giving-respirator-to-younger-patient/
If you have time on your hands as we wait out this pandemic, there are two good books that I recommend to anyone who enjoys history. In they cover three wars (Mexican, Civil, and World War II).
S. C. Gwynne, Rebel Yell: The Violence, Passion, and Redemption of Stonewall Jackson (New York: Scribner, 2014), 672 pages including appendix, notes, bibliography, maps. There are eight pages of black and white photos.
Stonewall Jackson was an amazing man. Deeply religious, somewhat of a hypochondriac, who had led an honorable but not overly impressive life, he rises to the top during the Civil War. Gwynne portrays his life and death in a compelling manner that shows not only what he meant for the Confederacy but also to America. At the end of the book, he may have overreached when he suggests that Jackson’s death at the height of his career was the first major death in this country by someone at the height of their fame. While the nation had lost former presidents and war heroes, most had been out of office or their deaths came years after their military career. Jackson’s death, mistakenly shot by his own troops, occurred just after his army won a major victory over a much larger Union army at Chancellorsville. In two years, Lincoln’s death would be the next major American hero to die at the zenith of their life.
Jackson was a man who overcame many obstacles. He was orphaned at an early age and sent to live and work with relatives in Jackson Mill, Virginia (now West Virginia). However, Jackson was ambitious and while not a great student, he was able to work himself into West Point. There, he worked very hard as it was quickly evident that he was not prepared for the rigorous course of study. By the time of his graduation, he had come from the bottom of the class to graduate at number 17. His class of 1846 would produce more generals than any other class at the Academy: 22 in all, 12 for the Union and 10 for the South.
In the Mexican war, Jackson stood out as a brave officer, one whose artillery unit held its ground against a much larger Mexican force at the Battle or Contreras, just outside of Mexico City.
After the Mexican War, Jackson served at a military post in Florida before taking a teaching position at Virginia Military Institute in Lexington, Virginia. He was considered a poor teacher except for in the subject of artillery. He was known for his Puritanical habits, but also had a happy home life until his first wife died, along with her daughter, in childbirth. He would marry again. Anna, his second wife, would also lose a child. In 1862, staying with her parents in North Carolina (her father was a Presbyterian pastor and president of Davidson College), she gave birth to daughter whom Jackson would only see for a few days including the day he died of his wounds. Jackson, while very private in person, was much more social and warmer with his family. This biography liberally quotes from Jackson’s personal letters that show his warmth.
Jackson was also a very committed Christian and a member of the Presbyterian Church. He had considered the ministry, but never became a a public speaker. He was a Deacon and started a Sunday School for African Americans in Lexington, both slaves and free. Interestingly, while he owned six slaves, they were obtained in a unique manner. His second wife received three as a wedding present, but the other three had been purchased by Jackson. The first, Albert, had asked Jackson to buy him and to let him work off his bondage for freedom. Jackson did and leased him to VMI as a waiter. When he was ill, Jackson took care of him, and before the war, Albert had paid Jackson for his purchase. Amy, his second slave, was about to be sold to pay a debt of her master. She, too, asked Jackson to buy her. And the third slave he purchased was a young girl owned by an older woman in town. This girl had a learning disability and Jackson agreed to buy her, thinking she could be useful to his wife. The three slaves that came with Anna included her nurse from infancy and her two teenage sons. Anna would teach both boys to read.
Much of the book is about Jackson’s rise to one of the great military geniuses of the Civil War. Being from the Virginia mountains and lacking the “blue blood” of Virginia’s planter class, Jackson was initially looked down on by many within the Southern leadership. This had also been the case when he was a he had been a student at West Point and a few of those earlier feuds (from “Blue Blooded” Virginians) continued into the war years. Jackson became a hero at First Manassas (Bull Run). Then, given command of the mountainous area in Western Virginia, he crippled three much larger Union armies that had been sent against him with a plan to burn the breadbasket of the Shenandoah Valley. Jackson was known for the element of surprise, pushing his men harder to do what no one thought possible. He was not one to share much information with others, including his commanders. These had to learn to trust his commands. Jackson was also strict as a commanding officer, demanding obedience of his orders. Often, his strictness, especially his punishment of those under his command, were overruled by the President of the Confederacy, Jefferson Davis.
Jackson was involved in the Peninsula campaign. During this campaign, Jackson failed on several occasions to achieve the initiative but coming on the aftermath of his victories in the Shenandoah Valley, his failures may have resulted from exhaustion. He would later take a lead role in routing the Union Armies a second time at Manassas. Afterwards, at Harper’s Ferry, he captured the largest group of soldiers up to that time ever captured in America, even larger than the number of British who surrendered at Yorktown. A few days later, at Antietam, Jackson was responsible for the Union’s inability to break the Confederate lines and achieve a victory. He would later be responsible for the Union disasters at Fredericksburg. During the winter of 1862-1863, Jackson spent time encouraging religious revivals and establishing a chaplain corps for the Confederate Army. As the winter waned, Jackson’s brilliant strategy at Chancellorsville stopped the Union attempt to move behind the Confederate Army. It was there, where he was shot in the arm and hand. His arm was amputated. He would later die of his wounds. His was a glorious career, that was cut short by a mistaken identity.
This book reads like a novel. It is the second book I’ve read by Gwynne. A year or so ago, I read Empire of the Summer Moon. Both are excellent reads. Gwynne’s research is impressive, and his writing is engaging.
###
Andy Rooney, My War (1995, NY: Public Affairs, 2000), 333 pages including an index and a few black and white photographs.
Like many Americans, I always enjoyed listening to Andy Rooney. He was the best part of the CBS news show 60 minutes and even if I missed the show, I tried to catch Rooney’s monologue at the end. Reading this book about his war years, I could hear his voice and imagine him reading the words to me. The book is filled with insight and humor, as only Rooney was able to pull off.
Rooney was in college before the war. The draft had begun, and he had been called up for the Army. He trained to be in the artillery. Even back then, Rooney was something of a troublemaker. He told about one officer whom he disliked and who was bucking for a promotion. Rooney’s job was to put the right amount of powder bags into the gun behind the projectile. They would call out the coordinates and the bags of powder needed, and Rooney would either put too many or two few and the projectile would either fall short or overshoot the target. The officer didn’t get the promotion. After the war started, Rooney’s unit headed to England, where he received a lucky break. He transferred into the correspondence pool, become a writer from the Army’s Stars and Stripes newspaper. With a million Americans in Europe, the newspaper was a major production. It was also a training ground for those who would step up and take starring roles in American media for the rest of the century.
While in England, Rooney was assigned to a wing of the 8th Army Air Force. He would write stories about the mission and the men whose daring raids over German was attempting to crush the German industrial might. But it was a costly business as planes were often lost behind enemy lines. As a correspondent, Rooney even had an opportunity to go on such missions, including one horrific event that he describes. In this book, he also writes honestly about what he didn’t write for the newspaper. He’d heard and witnessed many horrors that he wouldn’t report on because it would not have been good for morale
As D-Day approached, Rooney was assigned to go ashore with the Army. He spent most of the rest of the war driving his own jeep around Europe in search of stories. At times, he was dangerously close to the enemy and at other times he was enjoying the good life of food and wine. He did miss out on the Battle of the Bulge when he was temporarily reassigned to New York (each of the correspondents took turns of working a few weeks in the New York offices). But he was back toward the end of the war. When other reporters told him of the horrors of Buchenwald (one of the German concentration camps), he wouldn’t write about it as he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He set out to see for himself, an event that continued to haunt Rooney for the rest of his life.
As the war in Europe came to an end, Rooney had a chance to travel to American bases in India, Burma and China, before traveling home.
I appreciated Rooney’s insight on heroes, which he suggests that it’s best that we don’t meet our heroes. Hemingway had been a hero of his, until he met him in Europe. He was never much of a fan of General Patton, which he remarked in one of his 60 minutes monologues. He recalled how Patton’s daughter wrote to inform him that her father wouldn’t have been impressed with him, either.
My biggest complaint about the book was Rooney’s take on my home state of North Carolina. He didn’t like the state and even questioned why his friend and North Carolina native Charles Kuralt liked it so. Sadly, Rooney had the misfortune of spending 6 months in barracks at Fort Bragg, which is one of the less nice parts of the state.
A couple of quotes:
“Patriotism and war go together. Anytime anyone gets to thinking patriotism is one of the supreme virtues, it would be a good idea to remember that there was never any group of people more patriotic than the Nazi Germans. It’s strange that a love for country brings out the vicious character in so many people. In that respect, it’s a lot like religion. Here are two things that almost everyone believe are good, patriotism and religion, but between them they account for almost all the people who ever died in a war.”
“The whole business of reporting makes me suspicious of history.”
###
How are you handling this pandemic and avoiding crowds? Read any good books lately?
Please remember, especially during this time when we need to maintain social distance from one another in at attempt to stop the spread of the COVID-19 virus, that you can always worship virtually with Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church on Sunday mornings at 10 AM Eastern Daylight time. Just go to sipres.org and click, “Watch Live.” The sermon will also be available to watch later this week on our church website.
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
Mark 14:3-9
March 22, 2020
As we’ve done in the first few Sundays of this series, let us concentrate on this painting that depicts the passage I’ll read. Focus in on this guy, looking down as this woman who is anointing Jesus. Let’s get into his head. Listen:
None of us are happy with the way things are going in Jerusalem. It’s not just the political oppression. We’re troubled by the dire situation of the hungry, the poor, the sick, and the disturbed. The Roman’s don’t’ care about them? At least we try. Every penny we scrape up we try to pass on to those who need it. Before Jesus arrived for dinner, some of us were also wondering if we should save some money in case we needed to hide out in the not-too-distant future.
And then SHE walks in.
Look at that beautiful alabaster jar! Get a whiff of the oil. This is expensive stuff! And a whole bottle. How much does this stuff cost? It seems a ridiculous waste, given what we had just been talking about. This kind of money could go a long way.
Look at her. She’s not said a word. Yet she is intense and devoted. This love lavished on him is somewhat embarrassing and yet it’s what I really want to do—tell Jesus how he has changed my life and how finally I have a purpose. I’m loved, and it’s such a gift. But how can I offer any gift to Jesus. He’s “The Messiah,” anointed by God. But here she is anointing him! I’m jealous and fear we are losing him. He tells us to stop judging her. “She is preparing me for burial,” he says. No! Don’t say that, Jesus. It can’t happen.
Soloist sings: Enter
Enter the story
Enter the place you belong
Not just looking on
For this is your story
Enter the story
Enter
Enter the passion
Enter the place we belong
Not just looking on
For this is our passion
Enter the passion
Enter the story…
Enter the passion…
Enter his passion.[1]
Let’s listen as I read of this story from Mark’s gospel. Listen for the differences. Read Mark 14:3-9.
There are two big meals highlighted in the final week of Jesus’ earthly ministry.[2] We all know about the Passover meal, the Last Supper, but a few days earlier there’s another highlighted meal in which a woman enters and anoints Jesus. In two of the gospels (Luke and John), like the picture we see, the woman anoints Jesus’ feet.[3] In Matthew and Mark, from which we read today, the story is of the woman anointing his head with oil, something that might be done for a king.[4] Reflecting on this scene, Dale Brunner suggests it serves two purposes. It’s a call to worship. Jesus is to be worshipped, something that will come clearer in less than a week, after the resurrection. The second purpose is as an illustration of the double-love commandment Jesus used to summarize the law—the love of God and the love of others. This woman demonstrates her love of God through her unselfish actions toward Jesus. And Jesus, by protecting her dignity, shows how we can care for others.[5]
Think for a minute about this woman. Because this story is told a little differently in each of the gospels, we tend to get it all mixed up. In Luke’s gospel, she’s identified as a sinner. Her presence upsets those around the table. But that’s not the case in Mark’s gospel. She’s totally anonymous. Luke may have been describing a different event. If that’s the case, both women take risk to show love and devotion to Jesus Christ, and that should be a message to us.[6] What kind of risks are we willing to take for our faith?
Jesus is at a banquet in a home where he can relax. He’s reclining. It’s a laid back affair. He’s with friends. We’re not sure who Simon is. It was a popular name back then. But being labelled “the leper” takes the reader back to early in Jesus’ ministry when he cured a man with leprosy.[7] Leprosy was generally an illness that created isolation, but maybe, if he’d been healed by Jesus, he’s proud of the description and continues to use it after his healing as a way to honor Jesus. Maybe this was a dinner party in honor of Great Physician?
Now consider the risks this woman takes. She shows up uninvited. She shocks the guests with her generosity. Ever give a gift and wonder and worry if it would be accepted? Her gift does upset those around the table. Why isn’t this money being given to the poor? They ask. Jesus’ protects her dignity, saying she’ll be remembered because of what she’s done. And Jesus doesn’t stop there. He goes on to say we’ll always have the poor, but he won’t be around long, at least not in person.
The verse concerning the poor always being with us is possibly the most misinterpreted passages in scripture. Think of all the times you’ve heard this passage quoted in support of inaction when it comes to helping the poor. I bet many of us, and I’m guilty, too, have used this passage in such a manner. But it’s a misuse of scripture. Jesus is quoting the Old Testament. Deuteronomy 15:11 reminds us that we will always have the poor, but because of that, we should always be willing to help. “Since there will never cease to be some in need on the earth, I therefore command you, ‘Open your hand to the poor and needy neighbors in the land.’”[8] The ubiquitous poor are not there so we can opt-out from helping. They are there to remind us of our need to help others.
In Matthew’s gospel, we’re told that helping the poor and needy, the sick and the prisoner, is the same as helping Christ,[9] but here she is able to do something to show her devotion and love. It’s kind of like buying flowers for someone. They may seem frivolous as they don’t heal us or enrich us. In a few days they wither. But we don’t give flowers for such reasons. We do it because we want to be able to do something, to show our love and concern. This woman can’t keep Jesus from the cross,[10] but she can do this, and she does.[11]
What can we do? We certainly can’t heal the world, just as the woman couldn’t keep Jesus off the cross. But what kind of risk might we take for Jesus? Things are changing so rapidly around us. It’s scary. But we need to remember, this is not the first time Christ’s church has witnessed pestilence. In the 14th Century, a large percentage of the population died from the plague, but at the same time Great Cathedrals were being built.[12] Our call is not to fear and worry. Our call is to be faithful to Jesus. If we are sure that Jesus, as Lord, has our best interest in his hands, we can take risks that will further the kingdom and do good for others.
There are going to be a lot of hurting people in our world in the near future. Not only will we have to deal with folks who are infected, and a small but not insignificant percentage who may die. But we will also have to deal with those who are so traumatized they aren’t sure what to do. We’re going to need to encourage those who are depressed. In the short-term, we’re going to need to find new ways of connecting beyond handshakes and being physically present. And then they’re those losing their jobs as the economy contracts. I fear it will only get worse. We are going to need to support them. We’ll need to live fearlessly, trusting despite evidence to the contrary that God has things under control. This is a time that we as the church and as individual believers need to be bold and positive. For we’re on God’s side and our Savior won’t abandon us.
This woman might be seen as a fool for Christ. She faced ridicule, but Jesus protected her dignity and honored her. Don’t be afraid to be a fool for Christ. For our Master will take care of us. Amen.
©2020
[1] This edited monologue is from the Worship Design Series: “Entering the Passion of Jesus: Picturing Ourselves in the Story.” Subscription from www.worshipdesignstudio.com.
[2] Three of the four gospels place the woman anointing Jesus at the table during his final week of earthly ministry. John’s gospel names her “Mary.” In addition to this passage, see Matthew 26:6-13 and John 12:1-8.
[3] Luke 7:36-50 and John 12:1-8. Luke’s gospel, unlike Matthew, Mark and John, place this event earlier in Jesus’ ministry, not in the week of his death.
[4] Matthew 26:6-13 and Mark 14:3-9. Anointing the head may symbolize Jesus’ kingship. It was often something done to honor guests (which the host may not have done on this occasion). And it’s also points to Jesus’ coming death. See Morna D. Hooker: Black’s New Testament Commentaries: The Gospel According to Saint Mark (1991, Hendrickson Publishers, 1997), 327-328.
[5] F. Dale Brunner, The Churchbook: Matthew 13-28 (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2004), 599.
[6] For this idea of her taking risks, see Amy-Jill Levine, Entering the Passion of Jesus: A Beginner’s Guide to Holy Week (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 2018), Chapter 4, “The First Dinner: Risking Rejection.”
[7] Mark 1:40-45.
[8] Deuteronomy 15:11, NRSV.
[9] Matthew 25:31ff.
[10] There are two types of anointing. She anoints Jesus (GK: myrizo) brial. Anointing for kingship and as “the anointed one” or the Messiah uses another word (GK: mashiach). See Levine, 95.
[11] Mary Ann Tolbert, Sowing the Gospel: Mark’s World in Literary-Historical Perspective (Minneapolis, Fortress, 1996), 274.
[12] See Barbara W. Tuchman, A Distant Mirror: The Calamitous 14th Century (New York: Knopf, 1978.
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
Matthew 22:15-22
March 15, 2020
If you read the entirety of Matthew 22 (and with the extra time we may be having on hand as everything is being cancelled because of the Coronavirus, it’s not a bad idea), you’d witness a masterful campaign to trap Jesus. But Jesus isn’t so easy to catch. He’s kind of like Stonewall Jackson in the Valley Campaign in the spring of 1862. Jackson faced much larger armies who wanted to trap and do him in.[1] Similarly, with Jesus during Passion week, he’s confronted with a large number out to destroy him. But Jesus doesn’t fall in their traps. Jesus bewilders his enemies.
What’s happened is that unlikely groups join together to challenge Jesus. The old cliché, “politics make strange bedfellows,” rings true. Groups who wouldn’t normally give each other the time of day have come together to take on Jesus. They sense that Jesus is challenging the existing order. You have a few Herodians, who are Jews who believe they’re be better off cooperating with the Romans. They take their name from Herod, who had Jewish blood but worked for the Empire. And you have the Pharisees; a group of seriously committed religious leaders who believe in the resurrection. Theologically, they’re most like Jesus, but Jesus constantly challenges them and exposes their hypocrisy.
What we read this morning could be described as one movement in a tag-team wrestling match. The Herodians and the Pharisees team up on Jesus.[2] Once they are dismissed, in the next passage we have the Sadducees, the conservatives of the day, crawl up on the mat.[3] According to most translations, Jesus’ “silenced them,” but the original language is a bit harsher. A better translation would be that Jesus “muzzled” them.[4] Think of muzzling a dog! Jesus is on a roll! But the Pharisee’s still come back for more.
So what is Jesus telling us in this passage? Do you remember those big posters that use to sit out in front of the Post Office and government buildings with Uncle Sam pointing his finger and saying: “I want you!” I believe we could easily surmise this text into a big poster of God saying: “I want you!”
Let’s now look deeper into the passage. We’re told that the Pharisees are plotting to entrap Jesus. How does Jesus know this? We could say that because he was God he knew, but that explanation does not uphold the human side of Jesus. The human side of Jesus would have realized something was up when he saw the Pharisees and the supporters of Herod walking hand in hand.
These two unlikely groups approach Jesus. They try to butter him up a little by telling Jesus he’s sincere, he speaks the truth, and that he is impartial. This Jesus’ second clue. “For flattery is on their lips, but their heart is set on their gain,” we read in Ezekiel.[5] Most of us, I would expect, are smart enough to realize something fishy is up when those who have nothing to do with us began to butter us up. And that’s what happens here. With compliments, they try to catch Jesus off-guard before snapping the trap with their sixty-four thousand dollar question.
“Tell me,” they ask, “Is it lawful to pay taxes to the emperor, or not?” Jesus has to be careful. Last week you heard Deanie preach about the revolutionary act of Jesus cleaning the temple. Now they want Jesus to make a revolutionary statement against the civil authorities. If Jesus says they should not pay taxes, the Herodians could have him arrested for treason. But then, if he says to pay the taxes, the Pharisees can attack him for not being a patriotic Jew.[6] It’s almost a no-win situation.
Jesus asks them for a coin. Unlike us, he didn’t have to worry about where that’s coin has been or picking up some a virus from its surface. However, Jesus still has to be careful. The disciples, we know, had a common purse and he could have gone there to fetch a coin, but then the Pharisees might have charged him with toting around an engraved image of the emperor.[7] So Jesus has them to look at a coin they are carrying, and he asks them whose picture is on it…. They reply, “Caesar’s.” Jesus then flips the coin back to them, saying give Caesar what is Caesar’s, and to give God what is God’s. The little band of tempters are astonished. They are amazed. They don’t know what to say, so they leave.
These men are amazed, but do they understand all that Jesus says? They hear “Give unto Caesar what is Caesar’s,” but do they hear “Give unto God what is God’s.” Do they understand what Jesus meant? Probably not for they continue their attempts to attack Jesus throughout this chapter. But let’s not worry about them. How about us? Do we hear what Jesus is saying? Back to that revised army poster of Uncle Sam saying, “I want you!” Jesus is saying, “God wants us!”
The coin had an image on it, Caesar’s, therefore give it to him. In Genesis, we’re told we’re created by God, in God’s image.[8] The coin belongs to Caesar, it bears his image; our lives belong to God, they contain God’s image. Caesar may have a lien on our possessions while we’re on earth, but God has a lien on our total being—now and forever. God is calling us to dedicate our lives. God, in Jesus Christ, is in that poster pointing, and saying, “I want you.
Give to God what is God’s. This phrase is often overlooked. We tend to get hung up on what is Caesar’s and what is ours. We get hung up on the petty details and we miss the important question. What does it mean for us to give ourselves to God?
Sure, a part of devoting ourselves to God is about money, but it’s more than that. Money is only a start for God wants and expects much more from us. God wants us to trust him and then to do what we can to live in a manner that will further God’s work in the world. If we believe that we are owned by God and not Caesar, our lives should reflect such faith. If we believe that we belong to God, and are in God’s hands, we have nothing to fear, not even the Coronavirus. For regardless of what happens to us on this earth, God has us in his hand and is working out all things for good.[9] That may be hard to believe considering that panic that is going on around us, but it’s true. It’s why Christians for the past two thousand years have risked their lives and their well-being on behalf of others. Yes, we can give Caesar what is Caesars. But we can also take risk and do what is right and noble and good because we have trust in God.
Earlier I mentioned Stonewall Jackson, whose biography I’m currently reading. But let me tell you two other Civil War stories, they’re both short, and demonstrate this point. At the Battle of Shiloh in the spring of 1862, Albert Sidney Johnson led the Confederate troops as they overwhelmed the Union forces near Pittsburg Landing along the Tennessee River. It was a bloody day and the Union lines were broken in places. During a lull in the first day of battle, Johnson, seeing a number of wounded Union soldiers in need, ordered his surgeon to set up an aid station and to tend to their needs. According to Shelby Foote in his novel about the battle, his surgeon, Dr. Yandell protested. Johnson cut him off saying “These men were our enemies a moment ago. They are our prisoners now. Take care of them.” A few minutes later, a stray bullet struck Johnson’s leg and without medical aid, he quickly bled to death.[10] To this day, there is debate as to whether or not Johnson’s death caused the tide of the battle to turn. But the tide did turn and General Grant became a national hero.
A second story comes from the city of Wilmington during the Civil War. In 1862, a blockade runner that had come in from the Caribbean brought Yellow Fever to the town. Those who could fled to the country, but several of the pastors and the leading citizens of the town stayed behind, feeling it was their Christian obligation to help out the victims. Over 400 people died of Yellow Fever that fall, including many of those who intentionally stayed to care for the dying.[11]
Of course, with the current threat we face, we need to think about our response. We need to help when and where we can, but we also need to be wise enough not to become a carrier of the disease. So while mercy might call us to act boldly, it also might call us to isolate ourselves (especially if we’ve been recently travelling and could have potentially been exposed to the illness). Such isolation might help slow the spread of the disease and, with the phone and the internet, there are many other ways that we can read out to those for whom we care and love. The Christian faith calls us to be brave, after all we don’t belong to ourselves but to God. But it also calls us to be wise!
Give to God what is God’s, is the message here. So yes, we should pay our income tax. And when you write that check this April, we might remember that giving Caesar his due can be a lot easier than giving to God what is his. For our whole life belongs to God. But then, God’s given us life and in Jesus Christ has redeemed us to be his people. That’s a debt we can’t repay, nor is such repayment expected. As the old hymn goes, “Jesus paid it all.”[12] Amen.
©2020
[1] I have been reading S. C. Gwynne, Rebel Yell: The Violence, Passion, and Redemption of Stonewall Jackson (New York: Scribner, 2014).
[2] Matthew 22:15-22.
[3] Matthew 23-33
[4] Frederick Dale Bruner, The Churchbook: Matthew 13-28 (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2004), 410.
[5] Ezekiel 33:31b.
[6] Bruner, 397.
[7] Bruner, 398.
[8] Genesis 1:27.
[9] Romans 8:28.
[10] Shelby Foote, Shiloh (1952, New York: Vintage Books, 1991), 199.
[11] James Sprunt, Chronicles of the Cape Fear River, 1660-1916 (1919: Wilmington, NC: Dram Tree Books, 2005), 286-288.
[12] “Jesus Paid it All,” Elvira Hall (1865).
I spent the last week at Austin Presbyterian Theological Seminary in a Foundation for Reformed Theology seminar discussing the writings of John Leith. The seminary’s campus is just north of the University of Texas’ campus, which allowed us to do some exploring during free time. This photo is of me checking out one of the surviving Gutenberg Bibles that’s on display at the Harry Ransom Center. It was an interesting time to be away as we kept hearing about how the COVID-19 virus is spreading around the world. Working with Deanie and the rest of the staff at SIPC, we sent out this communication to our church family yesterday, which I am posting below. We need to be diligent and to remember that the virus isn’t just about us, but those we may be contact with, many of whom may have underlying health issues that could make this virus really bad:
SIPC Responds to Health Concerns
As the Coronavirus (COVID-19) spreads across the globe, we are reminded that the world we live in can be a scary place. But as followers of Jesus Christ, who trust in a benevolent God through life and death, let us hold fast to our faith and do what we can to mitigate risks to ourselves and others.
The staff and leaders on our Property and Worship committees have been in touch and are implementing the following suggestions in preparation for Sunday’s worship service:
- Increasing the cleaning of hard surfaces in the church, including the backs and armrests of sanctuary pews and door knobs
- Refraining from the Passing of the Peace and encouraging ushers and all present to greet one another with a smile and their favorite “non-contact” gesture
- Encouraging worshippers to be seated throughout the sanctuary, possibly on alternate rows, to give adequate social distancing
- Placing offering plates at doors and on vestibule and communion tables rather than passing them
- Asking anyone handling food for communion or at coffee hour to sanitize hands and use gloves located in the kitchen
- Asking members and visitors to wash their hands regularly and to use the hand sanitizer dispensers mounted upon entry into the flower room by the Sanctuary, Liston Hall, and the Office Workroom (Note: Other sanitizer pumps are being placed throughout the church but members are also invited to bring their own sanitizer with them!)
- Promoting our Live Stream option to those who are not feeling well or who have health conditions that make them vulnerable. To Live Stream the Sunday worship service, go to sipres.org and scroll down to the red “Watch Live” box on the Homepage just before 10 AM. Please share this link with friends and family members.
As uncertain as these times are in matters of health and finance, let us place our trust in the eternal God who holds us in the palm of His hands and remember, “God is good all the time…And all the time, God is good.” The church is at its best when we minister to those around us and so we encourage you to reach out to someone in need, go to the store for a friend, help sanitize public places, and be considerate of those who may be more vulnerable than you. Let us look to the example Jesus set for us in relieving the suffering of others.
If you have concerns, please reach out to your church. Please contact us if you or someone you know is sick or self-quarantined. If you are diagnosed with COVID-19, communicate with us immediately.
We will continue to look to the state and local public health departments and the CDC for guidance about best practices and procedures. If that results in a change in what we are doing or what we ask you to help us with, we will let you know.
We are God’s house, if we keep our courage and remain confident in our hope in Christ. –Hebrew 3:6
A few helpful links:
- Call to Prayer for the Stated Clerk of the Presbyterian Church
- Guidelines for Pastoral Care during an Epidemic
- Loving Others in the Midst of a Crisis
Texas Bluebonnets in bloom
W. Singer and Emerson T. Brooking, LikeWar: The Weaponization of Social Media (2018, Mariner Books, Boston, 2019), 407 pages including index and notes plus eight pages of photos.
This timely book begins in 2009 with Donald Trump’s first tweet, promoting his appearance on David Letterman that evening. It then weaves various threads such as political operatives use of social media in the 2016 campaign, to celebrities who use Social Media to increase their fan base, and to social media’s reach onto the battlefield. Social media was used to ignite the “Arab Spring.” There were many who felt it held a promise to bring more democratic processes into autocratic countries. But the dictators who survived learned and soon, social media was being used by those on both sides, such as in Syria. Isis also learned to effectively use social media, not only to recruit followers but to terrorize the countries in which they operated. Isis captured the city of Mosul with much smaller army and one poorer equipped because the Iraqi forces were so scared of Isis’ inhumane acts toward their enemies which were splashed across social media. By the time Isis arrived in the backs of pickup trucks, the Iraqi garrison had fled. Today’s battlefield involves not just military tactics, but social media strategies. In some cases, enemy fighters taunt those on the other side on social media, making them feel more vulnerable. Not only is social media changing the way war is fought, it is changing the meaning of war.
Social media has quickly been adopted as a way for us to remain connected with friends and family, but it is also the place most Americans get their news. The authors spend significant time discussing the development of the internet and then the evolution of social media. As the various menus of media grows, so do those who attempt to use such media to sway our opinions. While Singer and Brooks extensively covers the Russia use of social media as a way for them to influence politics around the world, from the British Brexit vote to the American elections, they have also looked at how other countries have used social media for their own purposes. Truth and fact checking that used to be expected by the established news media is now out of the window. And because everything is based on algorithms that few understand, social media can be used to make the outlandish seems true (why else, would so many people like something is it wasn’t true).
Of course, it’s not all about “fake news.” Some countries want to limit the news their citizens receive. China, in a way to only let its people know what the party wants them to know have created a firewall to control unwanted information which has led to humorous stories. When a study published under the title of “the Panama Papers,” which documented how many in the upper echelon of the party were stashing money overseas, Chinese firewall quickly blocked anyone from seeing anything that mentioned Panama. For a while, an entire country ceased to exist, at least according to the Chinese internet, under the internet police changed their blockage from anything Panama to “Panama” and other key words.
At the end of the book, the authors argue that social media companies (most of whom are U. S. based companies, need to be more responsible for how their technology is used.
In a perfect world, I would recommend this book, or something similar, to be read by every voter. But then, a perfect world wouldn’t have such issues with social media!
###
Daniel Okrent, The Guarded Gate: Bigotry, Eugenics, and the Law that Kept Tw o Generations of Jews, Italians, and Other European Immigrants Out of America (New York: Scribner’s, 2019), 478 pages including an index, bibliography, notes, along with several pages of black and white photos.
This is a difficult book, to read and to realize people thought this way. However, the message is important and the book is well researched which is why I gave it 4 stars on Goodreads. The author begins in the 19th Century and looks at how native born Northern European Americans saw themselves as the ideal race. Using science (especially drawing on Darwin’s theories), they debated how they might protect the race and even improve the race. This had profound impact across the society including non-voluntary sterilization in most states. But Okrent, while acknowledging these other implications, focuses his study of this “false science” on its influence in the immigration debate in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. The thrust of the book essential ends with the 1924 legislation that limited immigration at a percentage of those who ancestors came from counties as defined in the 1890 census. After the passage of this act, which remained the law until 1965, the author only briefly notes how the American debate over race and eugenics was picked up by the Nazis in Germany.
Starting with leading American families from New England, there was a rising concern about what immigration was doing to America in the late 19th Century. Leading politicians like Boston’s Henry Cabot Lodge sough a restriction in immigration but ran up against obstacles. Literacy was one of the restrictions, but as schools began to be more popular in places like Italy, educational barriers were no longer effective at reducing the influx of new populations. Immigration kept the price of labor cheap, which meant that many business leaders wanted new immigrants. Steamship companies often brought empty ships to America in order to ship American products (especially timber) to Europe found immigration to a windfall to their business. Business leaders saw that the attempts to restrict immigration kept failing. In an attempt to boost their argument, many who were against the immigrants south to support their arguments with science. The proposed there was a danger of mixing American blood (Northern European) with the blood of those deemed less desirable. It’s interesting (and frightening) how groups like the American Breeder’s Association, which had worked to improve agricultural practices such as raising healthier sheep, growing higher yielding soybeans and corn, and mildew-resistant cherries, began to debate at how to build a better “human.” Thankfully, these ideas never took a strong hold in the United States, but these ideas did catch on in Germany and even after the war, it was used as a German defense at the Nuremburg Trials, where Hitler’s “doctors” pointed to America as the source of their heinous ideas on race (see pages 392-393).
While there were many conservative and traditional politicians and business leaders drawn to such theories as a way of avoiding “racial suicide,” such as Henry Cabot Lodge and Henry Adams, this was not only an issue supported by conservatives. Those with more progressive views such as Madison Grant (of the Bronx Zoo Fame), Teddy Roosevelt and Eleanor Roosevelt also supported such views. Okrent follows the money and intellectual trail, as he links the support of such research, the scientist involved (such as Charles Davenport and Fairfield Osborn), the leading universities, and those funding such studies (which included Rockefeller, the Harriman family, and the Carnegie Institute. Also thrown into the mix includes Margaret Sanger, founder of Planned Parenthood and Samuel Gompers of American Labor fame. In a way, the ideas that lead to the 1924 restrictive immigrant policies in America, drew support from leading thinkers across America. It is sobering to look back today and to see the flaws in their thinking. As Nazism began to rear its ugly head, most moved away from such theories.
Okrent notes how his own publisher (Scribner) supported such theories in the past. Madison Grant’s book, The Passing of the Great Race, and Lothrop Stoddard’s Rising Tide of Color against the White World, were both published by Scribner.
It would be nice to know such ideas that were popular in the United States in the early years of the 20th Century are no longer present as we move into the 21st Century, but I’m not so sure. The recent debate over immigration and with a book like Pat Buchanan’s The Death of the West: How Dying Populations and Immigrant Invasions Imperil Our Culture and Civilization (2002), makes me wonder if there are still those who hold on to such ideas about race.
While Okrent mentions issues with Asian immigration, and early anti-Catholic immigration issues, this book primarily focuses on the attempt to limit immigration from Southern and Eastern Europe. I listened to this book via Audible, and then checked out the book from the library and read selections in preparation for a book group meeting where we were discussing this book.
###
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
March 1, 2020
Matthew 21:1-11
Zechariah 9:9-10
Everyone loves a parade. Or so they say. I’m not sure it’s true. If you’re like me and prefer to take the back roads for scenery, and then find yourself stuck behind a small-town parade, you know what I mean. Yet, there is something intoxicating about crowds. It’s addictive to be a part of something larger than ourselves. Hopefully, that something is God, but we must acknowledge that we’re also lured by the masses (except for during flu season or when a virus is on the loose).
It’s an exciting spring day in the imperial city of Jerusalem. Pilgrims pour in; Jews living throughout the Mediterranean gather at their ancestral city to celebrate the Passover. What a wonderful day for a parade…
Jesus and his gang are also coming to Jerusalem to celebrate. When only a few miles from town, Jesus sends his disciples into the next village in order to procure a donkey and colt for his entry… He tells them where to find these animals. He instructs his disciples to respond to anyone who challenges them with, “the Lord needs it and will return it.” The disciples find the animal; some bystanders question their taking the colt, but they seem satisfied with the answer. Did Jesus work this out in advance or is this a sign of his divinity? The text lets allows us to ponder, providing no clear indication as if this Jesus’ humanity at work (he arranged for the colt in advance) or his divinity at work (he knew where to send the disciples).[1]
The disciples, without being asked, placed their cloaks on the animals as a saddle. Now, how Jesus rode two animals, as Matthew seems to suggest, we’re not told. We might image him, holding the reigns in his teeth, with a foot on each animal, like a circus rider taking a victory lap, but that’s probably not the case. Instead, he may have sat on the donkey, sidesaddle, as was the custom for riding such beasts, and had the colt follow along, staying close to its mother.[2]
Quickly, as he and the disciples approach the city’s walls, excitement builds. Followers start placing their cloaks on the ground—in Sir Walter Raleigh’s fashion—as the procession begins. Someone brings in branches—we’re not told if they’re palms (the palms only appear in John’s gospel).[3] These branches are waved, making the parade more festive. The waving branches welcome Jesus as if he’s a general or a king returning victorious… And they begin to chant Hosanna, which means “Save us,” as they quote from Psalm 118:
Hosanna to the Son of David!
Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord.
Hosanna in the highest heaven![4]
I image its mostly pilgrims making up the crowd. Many of them would have been from the small towns and villages in Galilee, who’ve come to Jerusalem to celebrate the Passover. This is Spring Break, 30 AD. Just like today, most everyone makes a trek south—but instead of Florida, they head to Jerusalem. For many of the pilgrims, this is the highlight of their life—being in Jerusalem for the holiday. It’s like us getting a chance to celebrate New Year’s Eve on Times’ Square, Mardi Gras in New Orleans, or Christmas at Grandma Moses’ farm. This is a once in a lifetime chance. And as they come to Jerusalem, they recall God’s great acts of salvation in the past, of how God freed the Hebrew people from Egyptian slavery and saved them from Pharaoh’s army. Reminiscing about God’s past activity opens them up to the possibility God will act again and restore Israel to her former glory. They’ve gathered in hope.
Many of them are hoping Jesus is the one they’ve been waiting for, for so long. They see him as the man God will use to shake off the Roman shackles and allow Israel to once again be free. Jesus, however, doesn’t fulfill their expectations.
We’re left to wonder what our response would have been if we were there? Where would we be in this story? Would we have been in the crowds shouting “Hosanna?” And if so, would we’ve also been in the crowds shouting “Crucify?” For you see, it’s hard to separate the parade at the beginning of Holy Week, with the crucifixion that comes five days later.
What is it about our nature which allows us to get excited when our religion seems to support our expectations? And then, back away when things seem to move in a direction with which we disagree? We often forget that God’s ways are not ours.
Jesus takes a risk with this parade. In this series we’re going to see repeatedly the risks Jesus and the disciples took during Holy Week. Here, with the parade, Jesus mocks politicians who entered Jerusalem with pomp and circumstance. As Jesus comes into Jerusalem, there were two other significant political figures either already in the city (or if not, they were soon to be there): Pilate, the Roman governor, and Herod, the Roman puppet king. There was probably a parade for them too, one involving fancy horses and soldiers with shiny brass and perhaps even a band. Pilate and Herod display the power of Empire; Jesus, humbly riding on a donkey, displays the power of a mysterious kingdom, one not of this world. Who do we follow? Are we lured by the fancy horses and war chariots of the kings and politicians? Or do we follow the man on a donkey.
This is political, and church always has difficulty with politics. We walk a line between being prophetic in calling government to a higher standard (which is appropriate) and playing the court jester. With the later, we sometimes divert people’s attention from what’s important and thereby providing support for the status quo. In a way, with the decline of the mainline churches, we no longer play the role we once did in politics and that’s probably good.
A few years ago, I heard Miroslav Volf, a theologian and the founder of the Yale Center for Faith and Culture, address this issue. “Don’t look with nostalgia on when the church was in the center of everything,” he said, “for then it was used and abused by those in power… instead, we must find the language and the confidence to cheerfully live our lives as followers of Jesus Christ.” The church can’t and shouldn’t depend on political power.[5] Jesus, riding on a humble donkey, demonstrates this. We depend on God’s power to carry out God’s purposes.
Many people think that the reason the mainline churches have declined in influence is that we no longer reflect the values of the larger society. This may be so, but even if it is, we must remember that we’re not called to reflect the values of society. We’re called to reflect the values of that man who rode into Jerusalem on a colt some 2000 years ago. And his values constantly challenge us as to who we are and to whom we belong. Do we conform to how others want us to be, or do we strive to conform ourselves to the example of our Savior Jesus Christ? Are we intoxicated by the crowds, or by a desire to stand by the one who is the way and the truth and the life?[6]
As we move through this season of Lent, we need to ponder what Jesus’ risked during Holy Week, and what we are willing to risk for the sake of the gospel.[7] Here are some things we should consider. Do we only support our church when things go our way, or when we hear what we want to hear, or when the church does only the things we want to do? If that’s the case, are we taking risk? Are we being supportive? Are we being Christ-like? Are we being open to where God is calling? Or, to ask the question another way, if we only listening to what we want to hear from Jesus, are we really being faithful to him? It takes faith to stand alone when the crowds disappear; it takes faith to buck the trend. Granted, sometimes we, as individuals and as the church, are wrong, and when we are it takes faith to admit that we are wrong and to seek the new trail Jesus is blazing for us…
We hear the crowds… We are drawn toward Jesus… Will we just hang around for the fun of the parade, or will we take a risk and continue to follow him as his journey moves toward the cross upon which we’ll be called to sacrifice our wills and desires for his? Amen
©2020
About the background slides: The photos and artwork with attributions are either from pixabay.com or the collection at Vanderbilt Theological Seminary. The rest of the photos are mine. The ones of a parade (procession) were taken on the first Sunday in Lent in Antigua, Guatemala in 2018. The graveyard shot was taken above the town of Benton Hot Springs on the California/Nevada border and the photo of the highway was taken between Benton Hot Springs and Mono Lake, as I was driving toward the Sierras. These photos were taken in 2013.
[1] Frederick Dale Bruner, The Churchbook: Matthew 13-28 (Grand Rapids: Eerdman, 2004), 353.
[2] For more on the two animals, see Douglas R. A. Hare, Matthew: Interpretation, a Biblical Commentary for Teaching and Preaching (Louisville: John Knox Press, 1993), 238-239.
[3] John 12:13.
[4] Psalm 118:25-26.
[5] Interview of Miroslav Volf by Cornelius Plantiga, Calvin College, April 12, 2014
[6] John 14:6
[7] Risk is the theme for this series. See the “Sermon Fodder” in www.theworshipdesignstudio.com/passion
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
Matthew 17:1-8
February 23, 2020
Today, we’re coming to an end of this series on SAD (Spiritual Affection Disease). We’ve looked at several ordinary activities that can be used, beyond prayer and Bible study, to draw us closer to God. Today, we’re going to see that everything focuses on Jesus. Once we encounter the Savior, we need to fearlessly carry out his work.
Our passage is the Transfiguration. These are some verses I’ve often wondered about. Why are they in Scripture?” I’ve asked. “Is this story needed?” This week, I thought about this passage while attending a two-day Theology Matter’s conference on Hilton Head.[1] We considered what it means for Jesus to be the “way and the truth and the life,” In that setting, I began to clearly understand the importance of this text. It points us to Jesus, and to our need to listen to his Word.
The Transfiguration is a mysterious event with which the western church has always struggled. The Eastern Church, the Orthodox tradition, from early in its history, celebrated the event with a feast. In the West, it wasn’t until the 15th Century, right before the Protestant Reformation, that the Roman Catholic Church set aside a special day to recall the Transfiguration.[2] And for Protestants, we came even later to the table. But it’s important that we deal with this passage for it appears in all three of the synoptic gospels—Matthew, Mark and Luke.[3] Let’s listen to Matthew’s account of this story. And as I read this, think about what your reaction to such an encounter might be. Read Matthew 17:1-8.
###
There are four questions I want us to explore from this mysterious text. Of course, many other questions may arise, but this morning, we’ll stick with these four:
Why did Jesus only take three of the twelve disciples up on the mountain?
What is the significance of Moses and Elijah’s appearance?
What do we learn about Jesus from this encounter?
And finally, what’s the implication of this text for our lives?
That’s more than we can chew on in one sermon, but let’s see where it takes us.
We’re told that Jesus took Peter, James and John up on the mountain. In Scripture, many things happen on mountaintops, going back to Abraham. So the reader is expecting something to happen up on the mountain, at a place that symbolically links the earth to heaven.[4] But why does Jesus only take three of the twelve disciples? Did the other nine feel left out? We’re not told, but we must admit that there are times it’s easier to have an experience with a few than with many. These three, in a way, form Jesus’ inner-core. Each of these become the major players in the early church.[5] So maybe Jesus had a tactical reason for allowing them to have this experience. Furthermore, mountaintop experiences in Scripture tend to happen only to individuals or small groups and it’s up to those having the experience to share what happened with others.[6]
What’s important here is not that those of us who follow Jesus have a mystical encounter, but that we learn from the experiences of others. Not all of us will have a Damascus moment like Paul, or witness a burning, non-burning bush like Moses, or the Transfiguration like the three disciples. After the resurrection, Jesus responded to Thomas (who wasn’t at the Transfiguration): “Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.”[7] Most of us will fall in the latter category. We are those who have not seen and have yet, because of the testimony of others, believe.
Once Jesus and the disciples make it to the top of the mountain they experience a vision.[8] Jesus begins to glow. His face was like the sun and his clothes became dazzling white. That in itself was amazing, but then there appeared Moses and Elijah, who were alive and talking to Jesus. We’re not told how the disciples knew it was Moses and Elijah. I’m pretty sure they weren’t wearing name tags. But how they knew is not as important as to who they are. These are the two great figures in the Old Testament. Moses brought God’s law down from the mountain to God’s people at Sinai. He represents a fulfillment of the covenant that began with Abraham. Elijah is the representative of the prophets, those individuals called by God to demand the Hebrew people’s faithfulness to their Lord.
The appearance of Moses and Elijah is a reminder of the importance of the Old Testament and how it points to Jesus. The Scriptures of the Old Testament are still valid, but they now take on a different dimension with Christ, the one who came to show us the way home, the way back to God. In their appearance, the past (or what we might call tradition) points to the way forward. This is especially true for those of us on this side of the crucifixion and resurrection.[9]
This all amazes the disciples and causes Peter to begin babble about building shelters, perhaps to prolong the event. But while Peter rambles, we’re told a bright cloud suddenly overshadowed them. Think about this, Jesus is already dazzling white, so this cloud must have been really amazing. And from the cloud, as it was at Jesus’ baptism, God speaks. “This is my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased; listen to him.” The words are the same as at Jesus’ baptism except for the last three: “Listen to him.”[10] Again, God confirms Jesus’ identity and role, but now God commands the disciples to listen to him. God is saying that what Jesus says is important. As we learn in the prologue to John’s gospel, Jesus is God’s Word.[11]
Here, in this passage, we have God the Father, and the traditions of the past (Moses and Elijah), all pointing toward Jesus as the way forward. He’s the one whom we’re to follow, which is the core of the message within this passage.
The disciples are overwhelmed and fearful. They fall to the ground. But it doesn’t last long. Jesus comes over and shakes them as they crouch on the dirt and says, “Get up and do not be afraid.” And as they look up, it’s all over and it’s time for them to leave the mountain and join the rest of the disciples at the base of the hill. 
Two things we should take from Jesus’ words. We can’t stay on the mountain. As followers of Christ, we are called to live out our discipleship in the valleys, with the people, not up on the mountaintops away from problems. Yes, sometimes we need a break, we need time alone.[12] But ministry (and we’re all called into ministry) is among people, down the mountain, where things can be dirty and messy. And as scary as the mountaintops might be, going back down can even be scarier. But we’re not to be scared because Jesus is with us. Our lives are to focus on him, first and foremost. And if we focus on Jesus and trust that he has things under control, we shouldn’t be afraid of anything. Yes, in life some bad stuff can happen, just like it happened to the disciples, BUT Jesus has it all worked out. He’s secured our future so that we might live for him in this life.
So what does the Transfiguration say to us today? Jesus is Lord, listen to him, obey him, trust him, follow him, and don’t be afraid. “Get up, don’t be afraid.” Good words for us to consider as we, as a congregation, prepare for our future. Amen.
©2020
[1] The theme of the conference was John 14:6 (Jesus as the way, the truth, and the life). See https://www.theologymatters.com/.
[2] R. F. Buxton, “Transfiguration,” The New Westminster Dictionary of Liturgy and Worship (Philadelphia: Westminster, 1986), 510. The Eastern Church celebrates this day on August. 6.
[3] See Mark 9:2-8 and Luke 9:28-36.
[4] Douglas R. A. Hare (Matthew: Interpretation, a Commentary for Teaching and Preaching, (Louisville, John Knox Press, 1993), 198.
[5] Jesus took this same group to Gethsemane to pray (Luke 26:37). Frederick Dale Bruner, The Churchbook: Matthew 12-28 (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2004), 165.
[6] Think of Abraham and Isaac on the mountain (Genesis 22), Moses on the mountain (Exodus 3 and 19:20ff), Elijah on the mountain (I Kings 19:11ff), and Jesus in the wilderness during his temptation (Matthew 4:1-11). See also Bruner, 165. Bruner refers to J. A. Bengel’s 18th Century commentary. Bengel suggested the mountain may not have been named to avoid superstition. In light of this, I suggest it’s not the mountain that’s important, but the Jesus who is revealed on the mountain, therefore it’s more about what we do with this experience than the experience itself.
[7] John 20:29.
[8] While the story (verses 1-8) doesn’t say this is a vision, when they head down the mountain, Jesus describes it as a vision in verse 9.
[9] Bruner, 167.
[10] See Matthew 3:13-17.
[11] John 1:1-2.
[12] Even Jesus took time alone, away from the crowds. See Matthew 14:13.
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
Psalm 119:1-8
February 16, 2020
We’re back looking at ways for us not to be so SAD. How can we overcome bouts of Spiritual Affective Disease? How can we get closer to our Creator? This series offers us ways, beyond the usual Bible study and prayer, that we can reconnect with God. So far, we’ve looked at meditation, music, laughter, serving others, and appreciating God’s presence all around us.
Today, we’re looking at walking. In a way, the ability to walk is what makes us human. In Genesis, we have that beautiful image of God walking in the garden and wanting the man and woman to join the stroll.[1] According to Bruce Chatwin, in the Middle Ages it was thought that by going on a pilgrimage (which meant walking), you were recreating that original condition of humanity. Walking through the wilderness brought you back to God.[2] As humans, we are designed to move which allows us to experience God’s world, to connect with God’s people, and to come closer to God.
Our two scripture passages from the Psalms this morning have to do with walking. Our third passage, which we heard earlier from the Gospel of Luke, about following a path set forth by God, is about a metaphorical walk. As we journey through life, we need to follow God’s path and use the legs God’s given us to connect with one another and with God. And even if we can’t get up and walk, we can use our bodies in whatever way we can, to move and to delight in God’s creation.
Before reading our last passage, from Psalm 119, let me share a bit about this mega-Psalm. You might know that this Psalm is the longest chapter in the Bible. There are 176 verses to the 119th Psalm. It’s way too much to preach on in one sermon! But it’s also a unique. I know you’ve heard me speak of acrostic Psalms… This is a type of poetry where every line begins with the next letter in the alphabet. In English, it would be like writing, “Apples are red, Berries are blue, Cats are cute… etc. Using an acrostic method helps in memorization. I’ll come back to this later in the sermon.
Psalm 119 is an acrostic poem on steroids. Each letter in the Hebrew alphabet receives eight lines, and each of those lines starts with a word with the same letter.[3] Unfortunately, this doesn’t translate well across languages. Since Hebrew has 22 letters, you multiply that by 8, and you get our 176 verses! Be thankful I’m not reading them all!
The late Kurt Vonnegut once informed his wife that he was going out to buy an envelope. This was what ensued:
“Oh, she says, well, you’re not a poor man. You know, why don’t you go online and buy a hundred envelopes and put them in the closet? And so I pretend not to hear her. And go out to get an envelope because I’m going to have a heck of a good time in the process of buying one envelope. I meet a lot of people. And see some great-looking babies. And a fire engine goes by. And I give them the thumbs up. And I’ll ask a woman what kind of dog that is. And, and I don’t know. The moral of the story is – we’re here on Earth to play around. And, of course, the computers will do us out of that. And what the computer people don’t realize, or they don’t care, is we’re dancing animals. You know, we love to move around. And it’s like we’re not supposed to dance at all anymore.”[4]
It’s very easy today for us all to become couch potatoes, but that’s not why we’re created in this fashion and with these bodies. If these bodies are still working, we need to use them, even if they don’t work as well as they did when we were younger!
“Travel by its very nature demands simplicity,” Rolf Potts proclaims in his book, Vagabonding.[5] This is even more so when walking, as one is limited to what one can carry. Walking simplifies things further by slowing us down and forcing us to look around. After all, we want don’t want to trip on a crack in the sidewalk or step in a mud puddle. As we start looking around, we become more aware and notice more about what’s happening. We appreciate the flowers that throw off a scent in the spring. Don’t you love it when the oleander and jasmine are in bloom? We can stop and meet our neighbors. Or perhaps we might catch a neighborhood battle that we’d missed as we speed along on asphalt in a car with the windows up.
Have you ever seen an eviction? It’s something to behold. You wouldn’t want to miss it, would you? Now that I have your attention, let me tell about a walk I took a few months before moving from Michigan.
I was walking down Green Street in the early spring and heard all this commotion in the maple trees that lined the road. It was in the evening. Looking up, I saw an owl sitting in top of the trees. The feathery neighborhood association, all of which had eggs or babies in those trees, weren’t too happy. They knew what that owl was up to no good. A dozen or so birds, of all varieties, worked together to encouraged the owl to move on. One would fly close by and as the owl followed it, another bird would come in on its blind side and peck the owl on its head. I stood and watched for a good twenty minutes, until finally the owl had enough and moved to another tree. Think of all we miss as we huddle inside our climate-controlled homes and cars.
Of course, we’re not just to walk for walking sake, even though it is good for our physical being. Scripture tells us repeatedly to walk in the ways of the Lord. Psalm 119 is a meditation on God’s law. Throughout this passage, we’re encouraged to walk in the law, to walk in the ways of God, to let God’s law light the path for our feet.
This Psalm opening section, which I read this morning, speaks of how those who walk in God’s ways are blessed. And so are we, if we do our walking with God at our side, using our time out when alone or with others, to be delighted in God’s creation and to appreciate God’s providence. You see, walking can benefit us, spiritually and physically. When we move, we can connect with others and with God. So, this week, ponder this passage as you take time each day to take a walk. Let’s get moving and enjoying where we live.
But I also want you to join in on another walk, one that will involve all the congregation. As you know, next Sunday we’re going to lay out a new Strategic Plan for our congregation. We want to be a “joyful, thriving church reflecting the face of Jesus to the world!” Our mission is to “Love God, Love our Neighbors, and to Change the world.” We have set up core values (using an acrostic formation-kind of like Psalm 119-that spells out WORSHIP). These core values demonstrate God’s love by Welcoming, Offering, Respecting, Serving, Helping, Investing, and Praying. All this is supported by four pillars, which we as a church need to walk within. These pillars will require each of us to commit ourselves to excellence, and we if bind ourselves on this journey together, we will live into our Vision and Mission.
What are these pillars?
- A joyful worship experience.
- Grow our membership.
- Improve our financial sustainability.
- And increase our community outreach.
In each of these four areas, there are ways for you to walk with your friends here at Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church.
We’re all needed in worship, to lift our praises to God and to focus, first and foremost, on the Lord. Also, we need those of you who have special talents to help with music, with drama, in the sound booth, or with the liturgy. As we continue to work on creative worship, we’ll need to draw on everyone’s creativity.
To grow our membership, we need you to invite friends and family members to experience our church. And once someone visits, they need to see what a caring family we are. We need to love one another in a way that will make others want to be a part of our family.
To improve our financial sustainability requires us to look forward to the future. Past generations built and paid for this wonderful facility. Those of us who came here later received it as a gift. As we move forward, we need to sustain our ministries in a way that finances won’t be such a burden. We need to build endowments and to encourage everyone to be generous as God has been generous to us. What kind of gift can we give to those who follow us?
And finally, we need to increase our outreach into the community. We’ve been doing this with Civility Forums (the next one is March 4th), with the Calvin January Series, and with the very popular sunrise service. What other ways can we reach out and provide a home for those in our community who want to come and to learn and to be a part of changing the world?
It’s time for a long walk. Will you join us? Be here next week for the town hall meeting and between then and now, take a walk or two and ponder what you can do to further the gospel in the world. Amen.
©2020
A note about the photos. All but the photo of the owl (which came from Pixabay.com) and the one of Kurt Vonnegut are mine. The first one of a two-rack road was taken in Spooner Summit in Nevada (on the west ridge over Lake Tahoe). The lantern was my grandfather’s. The next images were taken on a backpacking trip in the Porcupine Mountains of Michigan. The last photo of a two-track road was taken on Cumberland Island, Georgia.
[1] Genesis 3:8-9.
[2] Bruce Chatwin, Songlines as quoted by Phil Cousineau, The Art of Pilgrimage: The Seeker’s Guide to Making Travel Sacred (New York, MJF Books, 1998), 18.
[3] This is easily seen by looking at a Hebrew text. For more information see James L. Mays, Psalms: Interpretation: A Biblical Commentary for Teaching and Preaching (Louisville, JKP, 1994), 381-382.
[4] I am not sure where this came from. I read it a month ago, cut and pasted it and saved it without providing the source. When I looked on the internet, I realized it’s been a quoted a lot over the last 15 years… I cleaned up the text a little for the sermon, replacing hell with heck and play for fart.
[5] Rolf Potts, Vagabonding (New York: Villard, 2003), 32.
Back in December, The Armchair Squid honored me with this award.
Sorry to disappoint you, but I will give no acceptance speeches that flaunt my politics. I like how “the Squid” modified the original rules:
- You don’t have to display anything you don’t want to.
- You don’t have to pass on the award to others in order to accept it for yourself. You are thoroughly deserving without having to jump through any hoops.
- You also don’t have to answer my questions, though I hope you will. I am genuinely interested in your responses.
- Simply know that I am grateful for our blogsphere friendship.
I’m finally getting around to these questions, which I found interesting and fun to ponder. Here’s my answer.
If you could live one year of your life over again, which year would you choose and why?
Is this a trick question? In Thornton Wilder’s play, “Our Town,” Emily Gibbs is allowed to go back and see one day of her life. It is suggested that she go back to an insignificant day, for it’s going to be so difficult. That said, maybe 1987, when I completed most of the Appalachian Trail. But that’s probably one of the more significant instead of insignificant years of my life.
If you could learn to be an expert at something without putting in the work, what would it be?
A violinist
If you could learn a new language instantly, which would you choose and why?
Mandarin I might as well know what most of the world is saying behind my back.
If you could give $1 million to any charity, which would you choose?
A charity that works with disabled or disadvantaged children.
When was your Robert Frost moment a la “Two roads diverged in a yellow wood…”? The poem says you can’t go back and that is true. “Way leads on to way” and so forth. But if you could, would you? What is the difference you think it would have made?
It was one winter in Michigan, when the snow was deep and I had shoveled a path to the driveway and another to a large locust tree for obvious reasons. Then, warming up inside by the fireplace, I pinned these immortal lines (with apologies to Robert Frost):
Two roads diverged in yellow snow,
And glad I am not to travel both
One traveler with four legs runs to the tree
And looks down as he hunkers low
And lifts his leg to take a pee
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Some where ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged from my front porch, and I—
I took the one with the white snow,
And that has made all the difference
Of course, it didn’t make much difference, but I got a laugh out of it.
Time travel: where would you go and when? Why?
Virginia City, Nevada in 1875. Having spent a lot of time studying and writing about Virginia City and the role the church played there, that was an interesting year. It was the year of the big fire and the interesting split within the Presbyterian Church. Visiting would allow me to see how much I got right in my history.
Who would you want on your fictional character bowling team? You get to pick four.
Yosemite Sam, Bugs Bunny, Mickey Mouse and Yogi Bear…
What would you want for your last meal?
I’d be like Jefferson in Ernest Gaines novel, A Lesson Before Dying, who asked for a whole gallon of ice cream and a pot spoon to eat it with. He’d never had enough ice cream, he said, and while I’ve never been as poor as him, I’ve never had enough ice cream, either. By the way, it’s a tradition on the Appalachian Trail to eat a half gallon of ice cream at the half-way point. I didn’t do it at time, eating only a quart!
What’s your favorite song?
Can I have two? A modern one and an ancient one? Why yes, I can, my conscience tells me, but remember the Armchair Squid teaches music! Okay, then two it’ll be:
“Deacon Blues” by Steely Dan and “Let All Mortal Flesh Keep Silence”
Are you an introvert or an extrovert?
I’m just barely an extrovert on the Myers-Briggs scale. That seems right as there are times I like being in crowds, but I also need to retreat into “me time.”
If you came over to my home and I offered you a drink, what would you want me to serve you?
I would ask for your best bourbon on the rocks, unless it’s Derby Day, then I’d ask for a mint julep. If it’s St. Andrews Day or Burn’s Night, let’s have Scotch or maybe a Rusty Nail.
David Sedaris, Thief by Finding (audiobooks, 1977) 13 hours 52 minutes.
Years ago, I read Me Talk Pretty One Day. It was a very funny book and I’m not sure why it took me so long to get around to another of Sedaris’ books. I was looking for something humorous to listen to in the gym and decided to give this one a try. It took me a long time to get into the book and several times I thought about putting it aside. The first years of his diary are somewhat bare, glimpses of him hitchhiking around the American West, making a few bucks with temporary labor, while spending most of his time getting high. As we must be close in the same age, so that as I listened to his diary entries, I kept thinking what I was doing during those years. After wandering around the country for a while, Sedaris settles down as he enters Chicago Institute of Art. He still struggles to pay bills (in his early years, he seemed to have a particularly hard time with this phone bill). He hangs out watching people in the International House of Pancakes. And he begins to write. There are some things that Sedaris wrote in his journal from the 70s, that reminded me of that era. Race relationships were often in tension and he had a several scary run-ins in both Raleigh (where he grew up) and in Chicago. He also wrote about his relationship with his siblings (especially Amy) and his parents (he adored his mother and didn’t care as much for his father, even though his father did give the kids a trip to Greece).
After he graduated from college, Sedaris stayed in Chicago, working day labor jobs and as an adjunct writing professor at the Art Institute. During this time, his journal observations become sharper and more humorous. Then he moved to New York, where he and Amy had plays produced in small off-Broadway theaters. There’s no “eureka” moment, where Sedaris realizes he “had it made” but soon instead of struggling to find enough money to pay the rent or phone bill, Sedaris is eating in nice restaurants and traveling back and forth to Europe. He publishes Naked. His lover is French and they move there, where Sedaris studies the language (and his teacher didn’t appreciate her portrait in Me Talk Pretty One Day). He also begins to clean up his life, admitting he’s an alcoholic and keeping a count on his days of sobriety. He has some interesting entries concerning 911, both from his time in France and when he returns to visit New York without the twin towers.
I am glad I stuck with this highly edited and published journal. In a way, reading these excerpts, Sedaris provides a personal glimpse of his view of the world in which we both lived, but in very different ways. I was often turned off with the language, but found that as the years went by, Sedaris began to cut the number of times he used the “F-word”. He even noted, while teaching writing, his criticism of a student’s paper that overused such language. Also, the book shows Sedaris sharpening his pen with humor, which is an interesting insight. His writings become mature as he ages. Finally, I was glad I listened to this book while working out in the gym. I’m not sure I would have stayed with it had I been reading it instead of listening to it.
David Baker, Swift: New and Selected Poems (New York: Norton, 2019), 179 pages
David Baker is a poet who is aware of his place in creation. In this collection of fifteen new poems and selections from his seven previous books of poetry, we are drawn into our common world that is highlighted by his keen observations and knowledge of nature. One collection draws upon the negative impact of chemicals used on the farms in Mid-America. He writes about death and bemoans the idea that the American way of death takes us out of the circle of life as we ensure that not even worms can feast on our bodies. In a note after another poem, he points out the insane about of fuel used to cremate bodies in North America (estimated to be equivalent fuel needed to drive a car the distance of 80 round trips to the moon). He hears the coyote cry at night and muses about birds and butterflies, fish and frogs. Through a variety of styles of poetry, some I found easier to comprehend than others, Baker draws us into this world we inhabit. I encourage others to indulge themselves with his words and images and ponder how we might live as a more responsible member of this planet.
Chad Faries, Drive Me Out of My Mind: 24 Houses in 10 Years: A Memoir (Emergency Press, 2011), 280 pages.
This was a hard book to read. I picked it up after hearing the author, who is a professor at Savannah State University, a few years ago. Knowing he was from the Upper Peninsula (UP) of Michigan, a favorite get-away when I lived in the mitten state, made it more appealing. But my first attempted to read the book failed. It was just too hard to imagine, and I kept thinking that no kid should ever have to live in such situations. But I picked it back up last month and forced my way through this memoir of the first ten years of Faries’ life. A warning if you read this book: It’s brutally honest. The language is rough, drug and alcohol abuse are a constant, and the sex scenes that a child observes is shocking. Yet, there are children who grow up in such situations. It is amazing that Faries survived the 70s.
There are several threads that hold the book together. One is the places they lived. Often, it’s a house, but on one occasion it was a room above a strip club and another above a bowling alley. Faries mother was just a teenager when the book begins and suffers from drug and alcohol abuse and, what seems to me, an addiction to sex. But she does love and cares from her son. While the book is called a “memoir,” there is a little license taken in using that title as the opening parts of the book are obviously before the author had actual memories. For such memories, he had to rely on his family.
A second thread is the constant mobility Chad and his mom make as they roam around the UP and off to Battle Creek (also in Michigan), Florida, Texas and Montana. They travel in old cars, in buses, by hitchhiking, and on the back of the mom’s boyfriend’s motorcycle. In one trip, the three of them rode from Battle Creek, Michigan to the western part of the UP (about 600 miles) with the boy sandwiched between his mom and her boyfriend. The constant moving is highlighted with a simple sentence at the end of each chapter, “And then we moved.”
The third thread is music. Faries begins each chapter with a quote from a “classic rock” tune of the era, and often during the chapters he recalls certain songs of the decade.
While most of the chapters are told from the point of view of the boy, there are a few interesting ones toward the end such as the chapter that is told from the point of view of the hamster who understands his role on earth is to protect the boy. I found myself cheering on a rodent. The last chapter has Faries with his mother and several other women discuss his early life. It’s 2003, and Faries is teaching in Eastern Europe and has come home on a visit. His aunt is tattooing his Greek girlfriend’s name on his back. As she does this, Faries interviews her and his mother about his recollections of growing up. This chapter, written more like a dialogue of a play, serves to wrap up many of the story’s loose ends.
I forced myself to read this book and learned much. But I’m saddened to know that children do grow up in such situations.
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
Psalm 84
February 2, 2020
In her book, An Altar in the World, Barbara Brown Taylor writes: “Earth is so thick with divine possibility that it is a wonder we can walk anywhere without cracking our shins on altars.”[1] Picture this for a moment, a world filled with signs of God’s glory, so many that we’re constantly tripping over them. There’s truth here. In Genesis, we’re told God created everything in the world as good.[2] The Psalms proclaim the world and all that is in it belongs to God, that God is beside us even when we find ourselves in death’s shadows, and that there is no place we can go to be away from God.[3] This is all good news. We’re not abandoned. We’re not alone.
This winter we’re looking at ways of beating SAD: Spiritual Affective Disease. How do we pick ourselves up when God feels so far away? We’ve looked at meditating on the light during darkness, listening to soulful music, laughter, and doing good deeds for others. Another way to lift ourselves up is to realize that God is always close to us. God is accessible. We can easily reach out and connect to the Almighty. Yes, we may feel far from God, but that’s not the case. Feeling far from God has more to do with our feelings than with God’s absence.
Today’s service is titled “Altars, Altars, Everywhere.” Let me point out that I’m using term “altar” for a place where we worship God. Biblically, an altar was a place for a sacrifice. The word comes to us from the Latin to describe a place where a sacrifice is made.[4] But since Jesus made the ultimate sacrifice, we don’t need to make sacrifices in order to obtain God’s favor.[5] Those of us in the Presbyterian and Reformed branches of Protestantism tend not to use the word altar as a place within a church building. Instead, we have a communion table, where we celebrate the Lord’s Supper, which we’ll do in a few minutes. So, when I use altar this morning, I’m not talking about sacrifices, but I’m using it in a symbolic way for a place we connect to God.
Our text, Psalm 84, calls us to come into God’s dwelling place. Let me ask you what you think when you hear of such a place? Pearly gates and golden streets? Fluffy clouds inhabited by choirs of angels and accompanied by orchestras of strumming harps? Golden rays of sun highlighting a peaceful landscape?
Another way of considering experiencing God’s dwelling place is to consider ourselves already there. After all, Jesus taught that the kingdom has come near.[6] We can look around us and can see places God is present. Certainly, at the marsh at the beginning and ending of each day, or at night when we look up at the twinkling stars, or whenever we encounter a mother and child and ponder the miracle of life. Yet, even in times of tragedy, God is present. We hear stories of those who, exceeding the bounds of human expectations, serve their neighbors and strangers in a way that provides a glimpse of Christ’s presence.[7] Opportunities abound for us to experience God and to see the glory of his domain. But is this what this Psalm is about?
This is a crusader’s psalm. It’s one sung by pilgrims as they made their way from far off, perhaps even a foreign country, to the temple in Jerusalem.[8] The dwelling place for the Psalmist is Solomon’s magnificent temple. The Psalmist isn’t using God’s dwelling place as a metaphor for God’s domain in heaven or even God’s presence throughout the good earth. His joy stems from the thought of worshipping with God’s people in the temple. So, in a very literal sense, we understand the Psalmist call for us to worship at the temple. But this doesn’t necessarily mean that such a place supersedes our need to worship elsewhere.
The Psalmist speaks as a pilgrim coming into sight of Mt. Zion, upon which sits the city of Jerusalem. And there in the middle of the city is the temple of God. “How lovely is your dwelling place, O Lord of hosts!” the Psalmist sings. Perhaps this is his first visit to the temple. He’s overcome with joy. Although singing, he’s almost faint from excitement. He observes the birds nesting high up along the roof and acknowledges the glory of God who takes care of all creation, from the greatest mammal to the smallest feathered friend.
The Psalmist then turns his attention to the priests, those who work in the temple day in and day out. He ponders their happiness. This must be a great job, he thinks.[9] “Yeah,” I think, “like being a vendor at Wrigley’s Field.” Of course, we only see the glorious side of those vendors. We think they’re lucky to be able to catch every game, ignoring their hard work of cleaning up. The same is true of the priests. He sees them leading worship and offering up sacrifices but doesn’t see them cleaning out all the burned meat from the altars or the polishing of the candlesticks. But for someone in awe, the position of the priest is enchanting.
But then he realizes that he, too, is blessed by God. We see this in verse five, “Happy are those whose strength is in you, in whose heart are the highways of Zion. In other words, he and those who have travelled the road to Zion, the road to Jerusalem, can be glad that God has given them the strength needed for the journey. Then, in the next verse, he recalls his journey through the Valley of Baca, the unknown valley of tears he had to traverse in order to get to Jerusalem. Even that desolate land is blessed by God. A miracle is witnessed as the dry summer heat is replaced with cool rains leaving behind pools of water from which the pilgrim can quench his thirst. Notice, that as the Psalmist sings, he realizes God’s presence is all around, not just at the temple.
Acknowledging God’s providence in his life, the Psalmist prays in verse 9 and 10 for God’s continual blessings upon those who seek to worship. In verse 11, he shifts to metaphorical language, conceding that a day in the temple is better than a thousand elsewhere, even while acknowledging God’s gifts and goodness extends far from the walls of the temple. God is both the sun, the giver of life for the earth, but also the shield, the one who protects us from the sun when it becomes overbearing in the desert. God is the source of all good, or as John Calvin liked to infer, “God is the fountain from which every good gift flow.”[10]
What does Psalm 84 teach us about worship? While the ultimate worship experience for the Psalmist was the temple, Solomon’s temple hasn’t existed for over 2,500 years. It was destroyed by Babylon. But that’s fine for there are now places of worship all over the world, and hopefully whether it’s here or somewhere else, you will find a home to worship.
But we don’t have to wait till Sunday, either. We don’t even have to be in God’s house to worship God. Because we have access to God, 24/7, worship could and should be continual. Paul tells us to “pray without ceasing.”[11] And prayer is an essential part of worship, as we acknowledge our total dependence on God. So, wherever you are, whether out in nature where the grandeur of God is evident or in the darkness of your bedroom, know that God is present and give thanks. If we do, as we told at the end of the Psalm, we can find happiness. We are not abandoned. For our scouts, this means that even if you get lost on a hike, you have a companion with you. Don’t ever forget this.
So, this week, stop frequently and meditate about being in God’s presence. You might even set up a special place to meditate and pray in your home, a reminder that God is with you. Think about bumping into God’s altars, for they are everywhere. Be on the lookout for them, and then give thanks to God for his faithfulness. Amen.
©2020
[1] Barbara Brown Taylor, An Altar in the World: A Geography of Faith (New York: HarpersOne, 2009), 15.
[2] Genesis 1.
[3] Psalm 24, Psalm 23, and Psalm 139.
[4] C. E. Pocknee, “Altars” in The New Westminster Dictionary of Liturgy and Worship, (Philadelphia: Westminster, 1982), 6-7.
[5] Hebrews 10:10-15.
[6] Mark 1:15.
[7] Matthew 25:40.
[8] Artur Weiser, The Old Testament Library: The Psalms (Philadelphia: Westminster, 1962), 565ff.
[9] Weiser, 567.
[10] John Calvin, Institutes of Christian Religion, I.2.1
[11] 1 Thessalonians 5:17
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
January 26, 2020
Micah 6:1-8
A widow’s son who died in a tragic accident. This put her in great grief as she was not sure what to do. A friend took her to a holy man who was also known as a healer. “Use your power to bring my son back to me,” she sobbed.
The holy man spoke kindly to the woman. “Bring me a mustard seed from a house that has never known sorrow. I will use that seed to remove the pain you have in your life.
The woman set out immediately on a search for such a mustard seen. She visited the home of the wealthiest person in the area, thinking that no tragedy could have struck them. She knocked on the door and the told the woman of the house about her search and how she needed a mustard seed from a house without sorry.
“Never known sorrow?” the woman asked. “You’ve come to the wrong house.” She began to sob and told of all the tragedies that had struck her family. The widow remained in the home for many days, listening and caring.
Upon leaving the wealthy home, she resumed her search and tried a modest home about a mile down the road. The experience was the same. Everywhere she went, she was greeted with tales of sadness and sorry. And everyone she met found her to be a listening and caring woman.
After months of travelling, she became so involved in the grief of others that she forgets about her search for the magic mustard seed, never realizing that her search had driven sorry out of her life.[1]
You know, sometimes we should just do it. Nike may have coined that term, but it’s also the call of a disciple. Our belief needs to be displayed in our actions. God wants us to live in a way that will bless those around us with peace and comfort. We’re not to do good to earn God’s favor, instead we should be touched by what God has done for us and order our lives accordingly. How might we make someone’s day, today?
Our lesson for the morning is from Micah 6:1-8, reading from the Message translation.
###
The Scriptures we read today make it abundantly clear that God isn’t looking for heroes. God doesn’t require us to be “Super-Christians.” We don’t have to sacrifice everything we have in order to find favor with God. Instead, God is satisfied with us living a life which brings no harm to anyone and which honor righteousness. These teachings from the Old Testament can be somewhat summarized into Jesus’ command to love God and to love our neighbor as ourselves.[2]
The sixth chapter of Micah begins with a courtroom scene. God indicts Israel, asking her to come and plea her case against the mountains and the hills. Why the mountains and hills? Because they have been around for ages and have seen how God has shown mercy to Israel.[3]
In the third verse, God asks Israel a rhetorical question. “What have I done to you, in what ways have I wearied you?” The people of Israel have been ignoring God. God’s question is designed to grab their attention. Was God the reason for Israel disobedience? Probably not…
The indictment against Israel continues as God reminds her of the Exodus and other great deeds which have shown the saving grace of Israel’s Lord.
In the sixth verse, Israel answers. Israel knows she has been disobedient and asks how she might come back before God. Shall it be with the best of sacrifices? Armloads of offerings, and a yearling calf? Or perhaps, like King David,[4] a thousand rams along with buckets and barrels of olive oil? And if that’s not enough, how about the most valuable thing of all, her first-born? As this response is made to God, each item escalates the value of the sacrifice.[5]
Standing before God is awesome and frightful. The Hebrew people believed that if they saw God’s holy face, they’d be consumed by God’s righteousness. So, it seems natural that if they are called into a lawsuit by God, they should up the ante of what they’re willing to offer. But God is so much greater than anything we can offer. What does God need from us? The offer to ratchet up of the sacrifices allows the prophet to correct the people’s misconception about what God wants. It’s quite simple, Micah says in verse 8. Do what is fair and just to your neighbor, be compassionate and loyal in your love, and walk with God (Or as the Message translates that ending of the verse, don’t take yourself seriously, take God seriously).
You may be asking yourself, does that mean that sacrifice and offerings to God are of no use? No, not at all. Instead, what we are told is that living a moral life is required if we expect our attempts at worshipping God to be valid. If you remember, Jesus said something about us healing the rift with a wronged brother before we make our offerings in the temple.[6]
The beauty of this passage is its simplicity. God is not expecting us to make a monumental effort in order to gain favor. God does not want religion to become such a burden that we harbor resentment in our hearts. Instead, God wants us to incorporate our faith into our lives so that God is glorified in all that we do…
Wendell Berry is a Christian, an environmentalist, a farmer and a poet from the hills of Kentucky. Years ago, at a commencement speech during a college graduation, which he titled “The Futility of Global Thinking” he told the students:
“Nobody can do anything to heal the planet. The suggestion that anybody could do so is preposterous. The heroes of abstraction keep galloping in on their white horses to save the planet—and they keep falling off in front of the grandstand.”[7]
Think about what Berry is saying. When we look at the environmental crisis from a global level, it becomes unmanageable. Berry goes on to tell the students that instead of worrying about how to save the planet, they should concern themselves with the care of their own neighborhoods.[8] This is true not just for environmental issues, but every other kind of challenge our world faces. We can’t change the hearts of others and avoid a war, but we can love our neighbors and began to build a community that reflects godly values. And slowly, if blessed by God, such communities can take shape and change the world.
What does Berry have to do with Micah? Well, in a sense, they are both prophets speaking to a world which has lost its connection to its source of life. The priest of Israel might demand that 1,000s of rams and barrels of oil be offered up to God to get Israel back on the right track, but what effect would that really have had on the average Hebrew in the 8th century BC? They’d be overwhelmed. Likewise, we are told that the answers to the world’s problems are global, but that’s overwhelming. We can’t get our minds around such problems.
Let’s think of the implication of what Micah and Berry have to say to the discussion of the church in America in the 21st Century? We cannot deny-things are changing in our world. The shape of the church and society are undergoing radical restructuring. Our church and society seem helpless in stopping the violence and the brutality which we read about daily.
We have a lot of problems in our world. The environment, crime, hunger, drugs, war, domestic violence, teenage pregnancy, unemployment… the list seems endless. As Christians, our Lord and Savior calls us to be concerned and to do our part to make the world better. But isn’t it nice to know that we are not required to do it all ourselves?
One of the problems of the modern church, I believe, is that we’ve become practical atheist.[9] As practical atheist, we still believe in God, we just don’t believe God is doing anything in the world so we have to make up the slack. Practical atheists can be either conservatives or progressives, and they seem to flourish at both extremes. God is still real for them; they can use the fear of God or the teachings of Jesus to excite Christians into zealous actions. These “practical atheist” are mostly committed to single causes. The conservative cause may be abortion or prayer in school, the liberal cause may be the homeless or minority rights. They demand action now and see themselves as carrying out God’s mission even to the point of martyrdom. Both can cite ways that God is on their side, and in that they are both probably right.
But the revitalization of our world is not going to happen because of what some individual or group does to drag along everyone else into their camp. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying we shouldn’t be involved in these issues. I’m just saying that, first and foremost, we should remain focused on Jesus Christ, or as Micah says in the New Revised Standard translation, “Walk humbly with our God.” We don’t need a giant to save the world. Jesus didn’t bless the superstars in the beatitudes.[10] We already have a Savior, in Jesus Christ. We don’t need another Savior; we just need to trust and have patience in him.
What’s holding you back? What’s stopping you from being fair, compassionate and loyal? What keeping you from walking with God? Start today. Do the small things. Do something good that will make someone’s day and make the world just a little brighter. Amen.
©2020
[1] An old Jewish legend retold by William R. White, Stories for Telling: A Treasury for Christian Storytellers (Minneapolis, Augsburg, 1986), 42-43.
[2]Matthew 22:35–40, Mark 12:28–34, and Luke 10:27.
[3]Ralph L. Smith, Micah-Malachi: Word Biblical Commentary (Waco, TX: Word, 1984), 50.
[4] See I Chronicles 29:21.
[5]James Limburg, Hosea-Micah: Interpretation, a Biblical Commentary for Teaching and Preaching, (Atlanta: John Knox Press, 1988), 191.
[6]Matthew 5:23.
[7]Wendell Berry, “The Futility of Global Thinking,” Harper’s Magazine (September 1989), 16.
[9] I’m not sure where I first heard this title used, but such atheism can be described this way: “[U]nbelief or atheism is a problem, not intellectually, but politically. Most of our social activism is formed on the presumption that God is superfluous…”Stanley Hauerwas and William H. Willimon, Resident Aliens: Life in the Christian Colony (Nashville: Abingdon, 1989), 36.
[10]Matthew 5:3-12.
Francis Wilhoit was born in 1920. He was a little younger than my grandmother, and he died a number of years before her, in 2010, at the age of 90. I never met him (as far as I know), but my Grandmother used to always tell me that I reminded her of him. When I was in college, she gave me a copy of his book, The Politics of Massive Resistance, and I expect I’m the only one in the family to have read it. It deals with the white reaction to the Civil Rights Movement. Wilhoit was outspoken against racism at a time few Southerners were speaking up about the problems. He was a professor at Drake University in Iowa. Years ago my grandmother sent me a copy of a poem that he wrote about her childhood home. Callie McKenzie was her mother (my great-grandmother) and Kenneth was her father (my great-grandfather). Wilhoit wrote this poem in 1977, which was over a decade after my great-grandmother’s death and seven or eight years after my great-grandfather’s death. Now all from those generations are gone.
Unfortunately the spacing Wilhoit used in the poem was lost when I posted it in WordPress. I will have to see if I can get it corrected (but not tonight).
“Aunt Callie” is to the left. Next is my father and in front of him, my Uncle Larry. My great-grandfather Kenneth is holding me, and my grandmother is on the right. The picture was probably taken late 1957 or early 1958
“Out at Aunt Callie’s Place”
By F. M. Wilhoit
Based on a poem by James Whitcomb Riley
September 1977
Pleasant it was, O yes I know,
In the good old days in the glow
Of youth, when summer at last had come
And the call of the country beat like a drum,
And we went visiting, our hearts never glum
Out to Aunt Callie’s Place.
It all seems only yesterday!
Though I’m now aged and silvery gray—
Out in the country, by the side of the road,
We aimlessly wandered through Nature’s abode,
Not a fear in the world, not a care to unload,
Out at Aunt Callie’s Place
We tramped the lowgrounds and crossed the wood
Where many an ancient oak tree stood,
Where jack rabbits sprang from tall wiregrass,
And honeybees buzzed in a swarming mass,
And threatened to sting as we tried to pass,
Out at Aunt Callie’s Place.
And down to the house of Tom and Kate;
And up to the Garrisons’ vast estate;
And on to the Old Place, over to Culdee,
From tobacco labors happily free—
Our faith as firm as the tallest tree
Out at Aunt Callie’s Place.
Yes, I see her in the screened-in porch,
Her face as bright as a miner’s torch;
And Uncle Kenneth and the children too!
Wasn’t it great, for me and you,
To place among kinfolks, tried and true,
Out at Aunt Callie’s Place?
The apples, the grapes and the gingerbread
And the jams and cakes—O how we were fed!
And the corn in the peas and the deep berry pies—
It all seemed to me like Paradise;
And the more we’d eat the more she’d devise
Out at Aunt Callie’s Place.
In the old frame-house in the evening cool,
With supper done—as a general rule—
We’d take and talk and talk and talk
And listen to the crickets loudly squawk,
Or maybe join in a nighttime walk
Out at Aunt Callie’s Place.
And many a time have you and I—
Barefoot kids in those days gone by—
Built mighty castles in the summer sands,
Dreaming of far-off, strange new lands,
Knowing we’d all meet Life’s demands,
Out at Aunt Callie’s Place.
And O, my cousins, how the times have changed,
By age and progress all disarranged;
She’s waiting, though: a smile on her face,
Patient as ever, full of God’s grace,
Calling us back, with a spiritual embrace,
Back to Aunt Callie’s Place!
A few note (from me, not Wilhoit):
Wiregrass naturally grows under longleaf pines.
We lived several hundred feet east of “Callie’s Place” when I was a child (we moved when I was 6). I can attest that the bee’s my great-grandfather kept were known for their temperament and we always stayed away from the hives.
Culdee Presbyterian Church is the family church, which was located South of “Callie’s Place,” on the other side of the Lower Little River
My great-grandmother was known for her berry pies that she always baked in a wood-fired oven (there were two ovens in the house when I was a child, a gas range and a wood stove, and she mostly cooked and baked on the wood stove). She would set them out on the back porch (which was screened) to cool.
One memory of mine that Wilhoit must have forgotten was the nasty spittoon on the back porch and how my great-grandmother loved dip snuff and, I assume, my great-grandfather chewed tobacco. The spittoon was for when they had to spit it out.
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
Mark 10:23-27
January 19, 2020
We’re looking at another tool to beat Spiritual Affective Disorder. We’ve talked about spending time reflecting on the light. We’ve looked at how music can lift our souls. Today we’re looking another sure-fired way to beat SAD (that’s Spiritual Affective Disorder). We can use humor and laughter. Too often we think of humor as inappropriate in churches. God is seen as some stern judge up in the sky, with piercing eyes and a frown, upset with all humanity. But God delights in humor. We can see it in creation. Why did God create the opossum? Or the anteater? Or the monkey? Or some of us?[1] We can also see it in scripture. In our Old Testament reading we hear of Sarah laughing at the possibility she, as an old lady, will give birth.[2] The story shows us God had the last laugh. God wants us to lighten up, to not take ourselves too seriously, and to trust him. We’ll see this in our New Testament reading, too. I’m reading Mark 10: 23-27, from the Message Translation.
Jim Johnson is a former pastor who now owns the Bull’n Bear Saloon in Red Lodge, Montana. On making this transition for the pulpit to behind the bar, he tells this joke: “Two guys walk into a bar and stop dead in their tracks. One thinks to himself, ‘Oh no, my preacher’s a bartender!’ The other thinks, ‘Oh no, my bartender’s a preacher!’”[3] This joke illustrates how humor is perceived different depending on your perspective. What one person finds as funny might not be funny to someone else, just as a preacher as a bartender gets different reactions from a bar patron and a parishioner.
It may have been the same way with Jesus’ parable about the camel going through an eye of a needle. Just try to image how silly this word picture looks—a camel, one of the larger animals in that part of the world compared to such a small opening. This is funny, in a “Far Side” kind of fashion.
Imagine the disciples laughing as Jesus tells this story. Jesus had just encountered the rich man who wouldn’t follow Jesus because he had much to lose. The man went away sad. He just couldn’t risk giving up his stuff, but that’s another sermon. The disciples who witnessed this looks to Jesus for some reassurance for their salvation, and Jesus’ tells this story.
For what we know, none of the disciples were rich, so it’s easy for them to laugh at the absurdity. Or maybe not. Maybe there were those who saw riches as a sign of God’s favor. Unfortunately, there are still some people like that, proclaiming a prosperity gospel. But this story undercuts the idea that wealth equals God’s favor. Now the disciples, whose bank accounts aren’t exactly overflowing, may have laughed at all the absurd image and at all those people with all that money who are doomed.
But then, one by one, they began to think. We’ll I’m not totally poor. I own a fishing boat, I own some robes and don’t go hungry, I have a house… Maybe I’m not rich by some standards, but at least I’m middle class. Does this mean me getting into heaven, would be more like a dog or a cat, instead of a camel, getting through an eye of a needle? I still don’t stand a chance. Their minds run wild. What kind of animal can get through the eye of a needle? Well, what about a worm or even an ant. But there’s two problems here. First, unless it’s a very small worm or ant, they’re not going to be getting through the eye of a needle. And secondly, is Jesus saying I must be so small that I can only be a microscopic worm or ant? Where does that put me?[4]
The laughter begins to subside as they realize their predicament. They’re doomed. Frustrated, they ask Jesus, “Just who can be saved?” Jesus responds, telling them it’s impossible for humans, but nothing is impossible for God. Jesus uses humor to make this point, but we often have a hard time accepting it which is why people have tried to reinterpret this passage such as suggesting that Jesus wasn’t referring to a needle used for sewing, but that it was the name of a narrow gate through the city’s walls. I’ve heard that interpretation in sermons and think it displays our fear of the truth—that we’re not in control.[5]
When you push an idea to the absurd, you get humor. Mark Twain knew this. He once wrote a letter from Virginia City, Nevada to his mother, telling on his brother for stealing some stamps from a local mill. According to Twain, his brother had slipped these into his pocket. Twain thought it was a perfect joke. His mom would get on his brother’s case, for she had no idea that the “stamps” in a stamp mill weigh 100s of pounds and were used to crush rock.[6] It’s absurd, which makes it funny and no way it could be factually true.
Bill Bryson is another humorous writer who is a master at expanding a truth to the point that it’s humorous. In his book, A Walk in the Woods, about hiking the Appalachian Trail, he does this with bears. Anyone who hikes a significant portion of the trail will probably see a bear, but Bryson makes it sound like bears are a constant threat and regularly snack on hikers. He did the same thing in his book, In a Sunburned Country, about his travels in Australia. Reading it, you’d wonder if most people in the land Down Under die from being bitten by snakes and spiders or eaten by crocodiles and sharks. He makes it sound like the country is trying to kill you, which some might think is true with their recent fires.
Using exaggeration to be funny is a way of saying, “Lighten Up.” We don’t need to be so uptight about everything. No, we can’t save ourselves. But the good news is that with God all is possible. Where do we point our trust? In our stuff (which won’t fit through the needle’s eye) or in God? Of course, it’s easy for us to miss the joke. That’s partly because jokes don’t always translate across cultures. Furthermore, jokes are best told and not read.[7]
Another humorous writer I enjoy is the late Patrick McManus. He’s published a dozen or so books and wrote humorous columns for Outdoor Life and Field and Stream. While McManus used exaggeration for humor, he often reported on his own silliness and mistakes. The best jokes are those we make about ourselves and not others. The mess he found himself in while hunting or fishing can be chuckling, because many of us have been in similar situations. As he aged, McManus lamented how things change. The trails have become steeper and the oxygen in the mountains have decreased since his youth. We’ve experienced that, haven’t we?[8]
One of the problems the church has in the world is that other people see us as taking ourselves too seriously. We carry heavy burdens and don’t trust God’s Spirit enough, it’s easy to get down and depressed. And then we don’t do a good job of reflecting Jesus’ face to the world.
In my blog, I recently posted a humorous piece about Communion. I was a little nervous about how it might be accepted but was comforted by the comments. One suggested that if such humor was used more often, they’d be more people in the pews on Sunday. Another woman, from Australia, who confessed to not having been raised religious, said the humor helped her understand.[9]
Jesus doesn’t want us to be uptight. Jesus wants us to have abundant life, beginning now, and that means we need to be joyous and to laugh more. Humor is good for us. It can be holy! We should, at the very least, be able to laugh at ourselves. It keeps us humbled. The great mid-20th Century Theologian Karl Barth once said that “laughter is the closest thing to the grace of God.”[10]
Think about children and how they laugh. They laugh at the silliest of things. We adults think we must be more serious. I wonder if, when Jesus said that if we want to enter the kingdom of God we must come like a child, he meant that we must come laughing like a child?[11] It’s something to ponder.
Laughter is also good for us. Do you remember the movie, Patch Adams, where Robin Williams played a doctor who used laughter in treating patients? Do you recall how he got a children’s ward filled with kids suffering from cancer to laugh? And how the head nurse was mortified and ordered him out of the ward and told the kids to get back in the bed? The movie showed how we adults are too serious and that the world needs to lighten up and enjoy things.
Laughter relaxes us. According to some studies it can heal us by boosting our immune system. In addition to lightening our hearts and reducing anger, laughter helps us to burn a few extra calories. It lowers our stress. And it makes us more pleasant to be around![12]
So, this week I want you to take time to laugh. Read the comics or pick up a humorous book. Take an opportunity to laugh at yourself. If you come across a great joke, drop it in an email to me or to a friend. We all need laughter and we’d be a lot better off if we could laugh at ourselves, for our follies makes us realize how much we depend on God.
Let me close with a part of a poem titled, “The Rowing Endeth,” by Anne Sexton. She describes being in a rowboat making for the Island of God. I’ll begin reading as she steps ashore:
“On with it!” He says and thus
we squat on the rocks by the sea
and play—can it be true—
a game of poker.
He calls me.
I win because I hold a royal straight flush.
He wins because He holds five aces.
A wild card had been announced
but I had not heard it
being in such a state of awe
when He took out the cards and dealt.
As he plucks down His five aces
and I sit grinning at my royal flush,
He starts to laugh,
the laughter rolling like a hoop out of His mouth
and into mine,
and such laughter that He doubles right over me
laughing a Rejoice-Chorus at our two triumphs.
Then I laugh, the fish dock laughs,
the sea laughs. The Island laughs.
The Absurd laughs.[13]
Amen.
©2020
[1] This is an old preaching joke that I’ve heard attributed to Billy Sunday, among others.
[2] Genesis 18:9-15.
[3] https://billingsgazette.com/lifestyles/faith-and-values/religion/pastor-turned-bar-owner-writes-on-similarities-differences-between-bars/article_673abca0-5749-5a9e-981f-a0e6291c5421.html
[4] Jesus is challenging a false sense of security here. See William L. Lane, The New International Commentary on the New Testament: Gospel of Mark (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1971), 369.
[5] As for debunking the theory of enlarging the eye of a needle to a gate, see Morna D. Hooker, The Gospel According to Saint Mark (Hendrickson Publishing 2nd Ed, 1997: London, A & C Black, 1991), 243.
[6] I’m pretty sure I am remembering this from when I read Twain’s published correspondence from Virginia City, NV. Twain often made fun of his brother, once saying his brother was “as happy as a martyr when the fire won’t burn.” See Philip Ashley Fanning, Mark Twain and Orion Clemens: Brothers, Partners, Strangers (Tuscaloosa, AL: University of Alabama Press, 2003), 151.
[7] See John L. Bell’s essay “Giggling for God” in 10 Things They Never Told Me About Jesus (Chicago: GIA Publishing, 2009), 126.
[8] Patrick F. McManus, Kerplunk (New York: Simon & Schuster, 2007), 104.
[9] http://skidawaypres.org/pastor/?p=3368
[10] https://www.spiritualityandpractice.com/practices/features/view/20120
[11] See Mark 10:14. See also Matthew 19:14 and Luke 18:16.
[12] See https://www.helpguide.org/articles/mental-health/laughter-is-the-best-medicine.htm
[13] Anne Sexton, The Awful Rowing Toward God (Boston: Houghton Mufflin, 1975) 85-86.
When I was in seminary, there was a debate at how often communion should be served in Chapel. This essay, which I recently came across, has it’s roots in that debate which occurred 30-some years ago. It displays my somewhat skeptic side:
Not exactly a communion photo. This is me giving a blessing taken from the movie “Its a Wonderful Life:” “Bread! That this house may never know hunger. Salt! That life may always have flavor. And wine! That joy and prosperity may reign forever.”
The highlight of Christian worship is the Lord’s Supper. We break bread and share wine together, uniting ourselves through a very ordinary act with all the saints who have gone before us and to Christ himself. It’s a mysterious feast, especially for the stomach that often leaves the meal hungry.
Standing in front of the table, the minister repeats Jesus’ words. “This is my body broken for you. Do this in remembrance of me.” In the Reformation, Protestants and Catholics fought over the meaning of these words—whether or not the bread was really Jesus’ body. Protestant Reformers could smugly point out that Jesus was speaking metaphorically. After all, he also said he was a door and nobody believes he is a literal door, wooden or otherwise. However, from the small portions used, you would think that all churches believed that it was Jesus’ actual body and they must hoard some for future generations. Of course, Protestants like me do not believe the bread is the literal body of Christ, but a sign to remind us of our unity with Christ in his death and resurrection.
The second part of the service involves drinking wine or, as most Protestants prefer, grape juice. The words of Jesus are again spoken. “This cup is the new covenant sealed in my blood, shed for you for the forgiveness of sins.” In the Middle Ages, only priests were allowed to drink the wine because of a fear the common people might actually spill some. Only Jesus was allowed to shed his blood, they reasoned. In some churches, everyone drinks from the same cup, a nice gesture that demonstrate how we all share in Christ. However, the majority of American Protestant Churches understanding that such sharing involves germs; therefore, they use small individual cups about the size of a thimble. Since the women’s movement, most of these churches have begun using disposal plastic cups because no one is volunteering to wash the glass ones. Ecologically minded Christians are bothered by this, but until they sign up for cup washing, the trend toward plastic cups will continue.
Christians participate in the Lord’s Supper in a variety of ways. Versions of the fast food method are generally preferred. In most Methodist, Lutheran and Episcopal Churches, everyone goes up to the front of the sanctuary and kneels or stands, awaiting their turn to receive the bread and cup. The most common way in Baptist and Presbyterian churches is the drive-in method. You sit in your pews and the elements are brought to you. A take-out plan is generally available for those unable to attend services.
Another method that has become more common is intinction. Each worshiper breaks off a piece of bread and dips it into the cup. This method rapidly facilitates the distribution of the elements, however the Biblical foundation for such a technique is weak. Even the most liberal exegete would have a hard time interpreting Jesus’ words, “take and eat” with “take and dunk.” More problematic for those sharing this method is that the only example we have of a disciple eating dipped bread at the Last Supper being Judas Iscariot.
A hundred or so years ago, it was common for American Protestants to actually sit around a real table and share a feast with others. This method, which had its roots in the Scottish Church, was the formal dining plan. To be allowed a seat at the table, a member had to produce a communion token that he or she earned by being good, paying one’s tithe, not breaking the commandments, and attending a preparatory lecture. As the worshiper approached the table, he or she was greeted by the maître’ d, a role played by an elder of the congregation. Those not tipping with the appropriate token were escorted to the door by the same elder who was also a bouncer. Once the worshipers were seated at the table, they were served a hunk of bread and a cup of wine. This was done rapidly in order to accommodate the next seating. Unfortunately, for all its appeal, formal dining has gone the way of fine china and finger bowls. Few churches bother.
As Christians, we celebrate the Lord’s Supper in order to proclaim the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ. We do this obediently and solemnly. Nobody talks; everyone bows their head. Most believe we are conducting the service in the same manner as Jesus, having forgotten that Jesus instituted this sacrament at the Passover meal in which four cups of wine was served. Unlike the Passover, a modern communion service lasts just a few minutes, after which everyone is still able to drive home.
The celebration of the Lord’s Supper also serves as a foretaste of the kingdom to come. At the heavenly banquet, we will all sit at table with Christ at the head. The Bible doesn’t give us the menu, but considering that four of the disciples were fisherman, maybe it will be a seafood banquet. Or maybe it will be lamb supplied by the good shepherd at the head table. Whatever the menu, the heavenly banquet promises to be livelier than the somber communion services. This is a good thing. Mark Twain noted that if heaven is just sitting around singing hymns, he couldn’t understand why anyone would want to go there. Likewise, if the heavenly banquet is only as exciting as its earthly counterpart, no one will RSVP.
After communion, the minister pronounces the benediction. Like the flagman at Indianapolis, it signals the beginning of a race. Some parishioners rush out to a restaurant. In good Christian competition, they attempt to beat those from other churches to the restaurant. Others head home where the television is the first order of business. After finding the game of the week, one family pulls a roast from the oven while another grills burgers out back. Those without ambition order pizza. Such hearty food is served and, as long as the right team is winning, we laugh and love joyfully. After having fed us at his table, Jesus wonders why he’s not included.
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
Psalm 40:1-11
January 12, 2020
Between Christmas and Lent, we’re exploring Spiritual Affective Disorder. Many people during winter, when the days are short, suffer for a Seasonal Affective Disorder. It’s due to the lack of natural light. When we don’t receive the light that comes from God, our spirits can also be troubled. Each week, I’ll suggest strategies we might use to break the cycle of despair. One way to get us out of the doldrums is music. As I read from the first eleven verses of Psalm 40, listen for what the Psalmist has to say about music. Read Psalm 40:1-11.
There is something about music that can take us to a place and time in the past. Those in the advertising world have known this for a long time which is why they often use popular music in the background to help sell products. Movie producers are no different as they use music to put us into the mood they are trying to convey. I don’t think I’ll ever forget the sadness, yet hopefulness, brought about from watching the movie, “Platoon.” These feelings were intensified by Samuel Barber’s haunting score, “Adagio in Strings.” Or, on a more positive note, think of the upbeat tunes used in the Charlie Brown movies. How does those tunes make you feel?
Music has a power to draw us back to specific places in time, which is why it’s often used in therapy for those battling Alzheimer’s or brain injuries. From my own life, there are songs that can take me back just by listening to them. The Beatles’ “Lucy in the Sky” takes me to my childhood bedroom, in a late December evening in 1968. I was listening to the radio I received for Christmas that year. Rod Stewart’s “Maggie May,” takes me back to a wet night camping at Fort Fisher. A friend and I listened to the radio while trying to endure wet sleeping bags. The Eagles’ “Hotel California,” takes me to another rainy night, when I was in college. With kayaks strapped to the top of my car, my brother and I drove to the North Carolina Mountains to paddle in rain swollen rivers. I had no idea then that I’d hear that song so many times over the next few decades that I would become sick of it. Every time I hear haunting voice of Enya, the Irish singer, I am taken back to a drive over Sonora Pass in the Sierras at sunset. I’m sure you have such experiences, too.
The same can be said about church and music. Maybe there was a special Christmas Eve service in which you sang, “What Child is This? and are taken back to that time. Sometimes we’re taken back to sad memories such as a song sung at a funeral. “He Leadeth Me,” was a favorite hymn of my great-grandfather McKenzie. I don’t remember him singing it as I was only 12 when he died. But I do recall the pastor officiating at his service sharing this insight. Now, whenever I hear that hymn, I am reminded of my great-grandfather and that great cloud of witnesses that have led us to his place.[1] Or maybe it’s a funny memory. I love the majesty of God presented in the hymn “Holy, Holy, Holy,” but every time I sing it, I also am reminded of my Grandfather Garrison, boldly singing this hymn, that has been referred to as the Presbyterian National Anthem, off-key.[2] And if I could tell he was off-key, you can be assured he was far off. But Granddaddy sang with gusto! I shudder when I think of the hymns that will remind my kids of me.
Music has ancient roots. Archaeologists learned to discover cave art when exploring in France by singing. They discovered that caves with the most resonance for singing were also the places where they were more likely to discover cave paintings. Many anthropologists believe that music was first used as a way to strengthen community bonds, maybe even going back to the prehistoric cavemen.[3] Anecdotally, this idea of music strengthening communities seems true for if you talk to people about music: those of different generations will tend to gravitate to what was popular when they were teenagers or young adults. Music helps form our bonds.
And music seems to exist beyond the human experience. There have been a lot of talk about coyotes on our island lately, but have you ever heard a pack of coyotes sing? It’s haunting yet beautiful. Each coyote has a slight variation to the song.[4] Have you heard recordings made of whales singing? Certainly, we’ve all heard songbirds sing. One of the memories I’ll always have about Michigan is how, in early March, I’d realize the birds were back as they start singing when it was still dark, before dawn. It was as if they were challenging winter, reminding us it wouldn’t be long before it was over. In a way, all creation sings so it’s natural for those of us who are humans to join in songs of cosmic praise.
Melody can change our disposition. Depending on the tune, it can make us sad or happy, reflective or energetic.[5] All of these are valid experiences and hopefully in our music on Sunday, we experience most of them. We may not experience all emotions every Sunday, but over a collection of Sundays, music should speak to all our moods. God is so big. God is God of our joys and our sadness, so it takes a wide repertoire to even begin to cover the vastness of God’s presence. Another thing, not everyone prefers the same music. Therefore, we need to be open to what others like, along with being willing to expand our own repertoire. We’re all in different places and have different backgrounds and what speaks to one might not speak to another. And, what speaks to us one day might, on another day, become weary, like hearing “Hotel California” for the millionth time.
Now, what does all this have to do with Psalm 40? Our text for this morning, the first half of this Psalm, is an offering of thanksgiving to God. The Psalmist, this one is attributed to David, begins by recalling how he waited patiently for God to hear his cry. In the second and third verses, we hear how God pulled him up from the muck, put him back on firm footing, and taught him a new song. The Psalmist is humble, acknowledging everything that has been done for him is a gift from a benevolent God.[6]
But let’s consider a moment the thought of God giving the Psalmist a new song. I like this idea: God as the great choirmaster, teaching us new music. In our early reading from Revelation, we heard about all the singing in heavenly courts.[7] Music may have had a long history within humanity, but it goes back even further, to creation, shortly after birds are introduced. And, from what we read, music is going to be around for a long time as we praise God in eternity. God will teach us the song, if we are just open to listening and hearing and rejoicing.
Starting with verse four, the Psalmist calls on all who have experienced God’s grace and mercy to join him. He invites others to turn away from false gods, to turn away from that which is worship in the world, and to focus on God’s wondrous deeds. So not only is the Psalmist given a new song, he now uses this song to witness to others, showing what God has done in the world. The Psalmist does what the redeemed are supposed to do, give credit to God for our salvation.[8] God doesn’t show mercy as a way to receive sacrifices, the Psalmist says in verse 6, but to have us follow him and to delight in the word, the law, which God places in our heart.
There are three important movements in this Psalm. The crying out and waiting on God to act, the new song that God provides, and our willingness to witness to God’s faithfulness. This is what the Christian life is to be about. We confess our hopelessness and helplessness to the one who can help. God hears our plea and responds gracefully. And then we tell (or better yet sing) of God’s good deeds as we witness of God’s goodness to a lost world.
What can we take from all this? When you are feeling down, like the Psalmist, call out to God, trusting in the Almighty to hear. But also, be willing to listen and to sing, to praise God for what he has done in the past which gives us hope for the future. Make a playlist of songs you can listen to when you are down that will help lift your spirits. Today, such a list can be easily assembled using apps like Pandora, Spotify and Apple Music. If you’re technical at all, you can then have the music with you always (even on your phone), to help you overcome despair and embrace the beautiful world in which we live. I also encourage you to share with your church family music that has special meaning for you—you can do this either on our communication cards or email them to me and I’ll keep a running list which we can later publish.
Let’s all be willing to sing new songs, songs that glorify and praise God, songs that lifts our hearts and prepare us to soar with joy. Amen
©2020
[1] Hebrews 12:1
[2] At an evangelism conference in the early 1990s, the pastor of Mt. Harmon Church of God in Atlanta jokingly called Holy, Holy, Holy the Presbyterian National Anthem and since I grew up in a church that sang it every Sunday at the beginning of Sunday School, it seemed right.
[3] Robert Jourdain, Music, the Brain, and Ecstasy as quoted and referred to by Marcia McFee, PhD., Think Like a Filmmaker: Sensory-Rich Worship Design for Unforgettable Messages (Truckee, CA: Trokay Prs, 2016), 127-128.
[4] For a discussion of coyote singing, see John Lane’s prologue “Redemption Song” in his book, Coyote Settles the South (Athens: Univ. of Georgia Press, 2016).
[5] This is my variation on Marcia McPhee’s list of patterns: thrust, shape, swing, and hang. See McFee, 136-139.
[6] Artur Weisner, The Psalms, translated by Herbert Hartwell, (Philadelphia: Westminster, 1962), 335.
[7] Revelation 5:6-14.
[8] James L. Mays, Psalms, (Louisville: John Knox Press, 1994), 168.
Patrick F. McManus, Kerplunk! (New York: Simon & Schuster, 2007), 227 pages.
There is a favorite used bookstore in Wilmington, North Carolina that I often stop in when I’m home. This time I was looking to pick up another copy of Guy Owen’s The Ballard of the Flim-Flam Man to give to a cousin, along with any books by Archibald Rutledge (both Southern writers). I didn’t have any luck, but I came across a book by Patrick McManus that I had not read. I promptly purchased the book and read half of the stories that evening. All these stories had previously seen ink in Outdoor Life. They are funny and many have a good moral lesson, too. McManus has always been a bit of a curmudgeon. He longs for the days of old, when mountain trails weren’t so steep and there was more oxygen in air. He recalls hunting 80-acre section of land where the deer were seldom seen, but when he visited recently his old hunting ground, he sees that it’s not been developed into a gated community and the deer are plentiful, snacking on the shrubbery. The deer earing shrubs hit home! In these stories there are also good safety lessons, such as the purpose of hooking the safety chains on a trailer, because having your boat pass you on the highway us “one of the least pleasant sights you may encounter during your lifetime.” And McManus is also a master as self- deprecation, such as the time fishing for steelhead, his friend already had one on the line while he, having made a half-dozen casts, he hadn’t yet gotten his line in the water. As for “Kerplunk”, you’ll have to read the book to find out. I do recommend McManus’ books!
David McCullough, The Pioneers: The Heroic Story of the Settlers Who Brought the American Ideal West (New York: Simon & Schuster, 2019), 331 pages, a few illustrations.
I have enjoyed many of McCullough’s books (John Adams, The Wright Brothers, The Johnstown Flood) and while I enjoyed this book, it’s not one of McCullough’s best. While the book is about the opening up of the Northwest Territory (which included the future states of Ohio, Michigan, Indiana, Illinois and Wisconsin), McCullough spends the first part of this book discussing how the territory came to be in the early days of the Republic. As the nation was broke, this territory allowed the country to pay the soldiers in the Continental Army with land. Of course, these former soldiers had to clear the land and fight for it, as the native tribes were not agreeable to giving away their land. One of the promoters of the territory was Manasseh Culter, a Congregational Pastor. He spent time in Philadelphia lobbying for the territory and would later travel westward into Ohio but would not move there. It was through Cutler’s eyes that McCullough tells of the passing of the Northwest Territory Act. After discussion of the passing of the act that opened the territory, McCullough focuses on those who establish the town of Marietta (which is located just north of the Ohio River, where Interstate 77 crosses). McCullough does a wonderful job telling the story of how the settlement was established, overcame the hardships of the early years, and became a permanent town. I think he should have stopped there.
Where McCullough’s book fails is that he tries to tie his story through the middle of the 19th Century, which leaves many gaps in the story. By focusing only on Marietta and towns along the Ohio River, the reader is only given insight into one strand of settlers who poured into the territory. That said, I still enjoyed reading this book which my men’s book club read for its December selection.
###
James Clavell, Tai-Pan (1966, Blackstone Publishing, 2019), 885 pages (~34 hours on Audible).
Tai-Pan is a fictional account of the founding of the British Colony “Hong-Kong.” This is a long book. I listened to all the book and read some sections (as this is our January book selection for my book group). While Clavell tells a good story, he seems to excel at foreshadowing, which means that when things happen there is little surprise. An example was when the Chinese lover of the Tai-pan was bitten by a mosquito, I knew she’d be coming down with malaria. Thankfully, Clavell doesn’t make a direct connection as, at the time (1842), it was thought that malaria came from “night vapors.” Clavell also seems to spend too much time in what goes on in the heads of various characters. People act or seem one way, but often have different ideas, which is especially true for the Chinese and their secret societies that even place mistresses so they can know what the British are up to. Clavell seems to embellish certain “kinky” sexual fantasies, from playful spankings of a lover to more harsh beatings and torture (he especially seems drawn to thumbscrews). I also felt he had a love for the sound of “reefed” sails. In his wonderful descriptions of sailing, he almost always has something to say about them being reefed (sails shortened due to excessive wind).
However, I did like how he worked in principles of economics, the advantage of free trade, the world views that tied together or put in conflict the interest of a variety of nations (from Britain, to Russia, and the America), and a main character (Dirk Sturan, a Scotsman) who is open and interested in what he and the English can learn from the Chinese. Staran is the “Tai-pan” or the leader of the strongest trading group in China. He has a number of other challengers including his arch-enemy, Tyler Brock. Staran is planning on leaving Asia and turning the operation of this company over to his son, Culum, which happens to be in love with Brock’s daughter.
The dream of the traders is to have a safe harbor where they are free to trade in China without Chinese control, and their fleets (the British navy and merchant ships of many nations) can survive storms. The book ends with a terrible typhoon (foreshadowed by the constant checking of the barometer), that destroys much of Hong Kong. But the fleet is spared. The trade will continue and Hong Kong will rebuild. Upon the death of his father, Culum assumes the role of the new Tai-pan while this half-brother (half Chinese and half Scot from Staran’s mistress plots to control the city.
While Clavell’s story does try to give value to the Chinese (their customs and their medicine), it is very much written from a Western point-of-view. I found myself wondering, while reading, how the book would be received in today’s more culturally sensitive and “Me-too” climate. While I’m glad I read the book, I won’t recommend it to anyone else (but I might make you a good deal on a used copy of the book 😊).
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
Isaiah 60:1-7
January 5, 2020
Tomorrow is Epiphany, a word that means a manifestation. Think of it as an “a-ha” moment. It’s the 12th Day of Christmas, but in the Western World, Christmas Day has overtaken his feast day in which we recall the coming of the Magi or the Wisemen. The Wisemen followed the star to Bethlehem. Their coming to the manager is important because it fulfills, as we’ll hear from Isaiah, the light shining in the darkness that draws people from all nations to experience what God has done. Jesus was not born for just Mary and Joseph to cherish. His birth was not just a way to relieve the boredom of a few shepherds. His birth was to offer hope to the entire world. His birth shows that God is not done with us. Let’s listen to Isaiah as I read from the Message version of Scripture. Read Isaiah 60:1-7.
I was blessed as a child to spend many days camping on an undeveloped beach, generally in the fall of the year when the bluefish were running. We’d crawl out of our sleeping bags while it was still dark and start a small fire on the beach to drive away the chill. You could only make out everyone’s shadows created by the light of the fire or lantern. Before the stars began to disappear and the sky lightened, we’d have a line in the water, baited with cut mullet. You’d cast the line out beyond the surf, hoping you were in a good spot. Gradually, the shades of black and gray would be replaced by color as we shivered in the chill and held our rods high, an index finger touching the line waiting for the signature bump of a fish.
When darkness began to fade, birds would take to the air. It was often then, right before the sun rose, that the bluefish would begin feeding. They’d take the bait and we’d feel the bumping of the line. We’d yank the rod to set the hook, and began to haul them in, trying to keep our feet out of the breaking surf. (as a young-one, I didn’t have any waders). Soon, we’d see a fish flapping in the receding waves and not long thereafter, a few of the fish would be roasting over the coals of the morning fire. But as busy as we were catching fish, we’d pause to watch the sun come up as a bright orange ball. It was a few minutes of amazement. Afterwards, as the sun rose even higher, and its orb seem to shrink (it doesn’t, that’s an optical illusion), we’d begin shedding jackets and no longer needing the fire to stay warm. Now that we could see where we were casting, we’d change from cut bait to a lure or spoon, casting out toward the birds which hovered over the feeding fish.
There’s something magical about the sunrise. The new day is filled with possibilities. With the rising of the sun, there’s hope. It’s a time to give thanks for the day God has given us and, on these mornings, for the fish destined for the freezer.
You know, the Prophet Isaiah had a lot of depressing things to say. He wrote about the fall of Israel and the coming exile for Jerusalem. War and destruction is at the forefront of his message, but occasionally Isaiah breaks out of the darkness. In Chapter 9, he writes, “The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light,”[1] a text read often during the Advent and Christmas seasons. In Chapter 42, Isaiah recalls Lord’s promises by reminding the Hebrew people that God is turning darkness into light.[2] And as his book moves toward its conclusion, he again brings up the coming of light. “It’s time to rise and shine.”
This passage reminds me of that old camp song, “Rise and shine and give God the glory, glory.” Isaiah is reminding his readers that it’s time for God’s people to be “the light to the nations.”[3] Isaiah’s viewpoint is that the world is in darkness, but God is bringing about a change and it will be up to God’s people to help light shine in the world. As God’s people, it’s as if we’re given flashlights. We’re not to hoard our light, but to share it share with others as we draw them to the beach to watch the greatest son-rise of all (that’s son with an “O”), the coming of God in the flesh.
As Christians, we read these passages through the lens of Jesus, the light coming into the world as proclaimed in John’s gospel.[4] Furthermore, in the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus calls us to be a light to the world.”[5] Think of it this way. Jesus is the light of the world, but he calls us to also be lights of the world. Maybe we’re not as bright as his light, maybe we’re more like the moon than the sun, reflecting the light of the true light. But that’s okay. Remember it doesn’t take much light to offer hope. It was mere star that drew the wise men from the East. On a dark night, a few small red and green navigation lights show us the channel. It doesn’t take much to provide hope and guidance, and if we’ve seen the light, we can also be that light, that hope, for someone else.
Years ago I had the opportunity to spend a few days spelunking (or caving) in eastern West Virginia. It was an incredible experience. When you are below ground like that, there is no light at all. Turn off your light and you can’t even see your hand in front of your face. At one point, we gathered in a huge underground room. Our guide had us place our cameras on tripods and to open the shutters, then had us go around the room popping flashes. Each splash of light would illuminate a section of the wall and ceiling, which we didn’t see until after the film was processed (these were the old days, long before digital). By bringing light into this cave, we got to experience on film the incredible beauty of this huge underground chamber that was dotted with crystals.
This is what we as Christians are to be doing, bringing light into the world. Yes, there are problems. There are evil people who do terrible things, like the Iranian general who was just killed. There are hateful people who want to wipe others off the face of the earth. There are dishonest people who will lie and cheat to get ahead. There are misguided people who create chaos and whom try to profit at the expense of others. We live with partisan hatred in our own country and under the threat of terrorist attacks, both domestic and foreign. The possibility of war is always on the horizon. But despite all that, as believers in the one who came into a troubled world as a child, the one who was willing to die for our sin, the one for whom the grave could not hold, we have hope. There is much that’s good and beautiful in the world which, like that wall inside a cave, only needs a little light to shine upon it. That’s our job, to point people to all that’s good in the world and to what God is doing through his son, Jesus Christ.
As we enter a New Year, flip the switch and be the light of the world. Hold tight to the faith we have and share the hope that in Jesus Christ, God has things under control. The good news is that we’re not alone as this New Year begins. Remember the truth of the Psalmist, “Weeping may linger for the night, but joy comes with the morning.[6] Amen.
©2020
[1] Isaiah 9:2.
[2] Isaiah 42:16.
[3] Isaiah 42:6 and 49:6.
[4] John 1:1-5.
[5] Matthew 5:14.
[6] Psalm 30:5.
I am in North Carolina, taking a few days off and sitting inside watching it rain… Here’s my last post of the year as I review two recent books I’ve read. I hope everyone has a wonderful New Year’s Eve and a prosperous 2020 (and please, no more eye jokes)!
John Kasich, It’s Up to Us: Ten Little Ways We Can Bring About Big Change (Hanover Square Press, 2019), 237 pages.
John Kasich was the last Republican in the running against Donald Trump during the 2016 primaries. This little book makes me wonder how much better things might be in America had he succeed in his quest for the White House. While definitely conservative (certainly he is truer to conservative principles than Trump), Kasich also appears to be a good guy. And, at least from what I gleam in this book. He appears willing to listen to all people and not resort to ad hominem attacks upon those who challenge his position. In fact, he seems to seek out those with opposing opinions as well as having a more open view about those who think differently than him. He’s a man of deep faith who draws upon his religious belief in how he treats others and views the world.
Kasich encourages his readers to make a difference in the world by offering “ten little ways.” However, “little” is a marketing word, for some of his suggestions are big undertakings. He begins suggesting we start a movement, with examples that are not so “little.” He begins by recalling the work of Greta Thunberg (his book was published before Trump got into a twitter war with the 16-year-old Swedish climate activist). He discusses the youth from Douglas High School in Parkland, Florida and their efforts at being to the forefront the need for sensible gun control legislation. He discusses those involved in Special Olympics and (as if he was speaking to me directly) recalls the work of his (and my) childhood hero, Roberto Clemente. Where Kasich conservative principles show is where he suggests that all great movements rise from the people, not the government.
While starting a movement seems to be a big thing, Kasich follows it with an encouragement to start local and to “be the change where (we) live.” Again, as he does with all his suggestions, he offers examples such as a janitor who supported the Children’s Hospital Free Care Fund to the tune of over $200,000. “Find a hole in our community and fill it,” he suggests (78). Another suggestion is to “Be Prepared to Walk a Lonely Road,” reminding us that often those who are on the forefront of any worthwhile change are ridiculed and often persecuted. He encourages us to “Slow Down” with the 3 T’s [time to think (115)] and quoting race car driver Bobby Rachael who said: “You can’t go racing into things all the time. You have to step back and see where you are going” (124). Others in his list of ten include “Bounce Back,” “Love Thy Neighbor,” “Get Out of Your Silo,” “Put Yourself in Someone Else’s Shoes,” “Spend Time Examining Your Eternal Destiny,” and “Know that You are Mad Special.”
At the beginning, Kasich said he wrote the book because he didn’t want people to think they could only change world is through politics. This book highlights many people who are changing the world for the better without seeking notoriety. The book is easy to read and for those of us who have a heart for Pittsburgh, many of his stories comes from the area. Kasich grew up in McKees Rocks, Pennsylvania. He also draws on the music of the Baby Boomer generation, opening the book with the line from The Who’s “Won’t Get Fooled Again,” suggesting that often the votes do get fooled again and again.
Caryn Green, Overland: Remembering Southeast Asia (Chicago, IL: Manitou & Cedar Press, 2018), 241 pages.
A few weeks before reading this book, I had responded to a request of a blogger about my most spectacular train journeys. I listed several including the ride across the island of Java in Indonesia, from Jakarta to Jogjakarata. Shortly afterwards, someone else echoed my comment about the Indonesian train ride being one of her favorite. When I looked at her profile, I saw that she had recently published this book on her journey across Southeast Asia. I ordered a copy. I’m glad I did.
Caryn Green was a 24 year old woman from Chicago when she decided to hit the trail, traveling to Indonesia and then making her way overland from Bali to Jakarta, on to Singapore and into Malaysia and then to Bangkok and around Thailand. She even made it into Burma. My trip didn’t take me into Burma, as I hung a left in Thailand and headed into Cambodia and then Vietnam, before running north and traveling on to Europe. That wasn’t an option for Green, as she did her travels in the winter of 1975-76, shortly after the fall of Cambodia and Vietnam. Those countries were definitively off-limits at the time. It was an interesting time to travel as the recent American presence in Asia was evident and American travelers were often berated and drawn into unpleasant conversations.
Green wonderfully describes her travels and the people she meets. She mostly hangs out with fellow travelers, many from Australia and Germany, but also meets many natives along the way, especially those who provide housing and services. She is taken with the children. I was also impressed with how much of the languages she learned, more than just being able to say thanks or to ask for the bathroom or where to find beer. Some reading the book might be taken back by how honest she was about her relationships with a few of the men she met along the journey (although nothing is too graphic) as well as how she occasionally enjoyed drugs. She did draw a line at the use of harder drugs. Reading this, I found myself wondering if the airport in Indonesia had large banners in several languages reading, “death to drug runners,” on the concourse in 1975 as you entered the country as they did when I traveled.
Perhaps the most exciting part of her trip comes at the end, when she travels with a guy filming a documentary on the Karen resistance in Burma. The Karen are tribe in northeastern Burma who have long wanted to separate from the rest of Burma. They passed over into Burma in a remote part of the country, from Thailand. I knew some of the conflict with the Karen from Pascal Khoo Thue’s memoir, From the Land of the Green Ghost: A Burmese Odyssey.
I felt a little cheated that she was able to take a ferry from Jakarta to Singapore. Back then, ferries were more available. When I made the trip, it was only running once or twice a week and, even then, didn’t go to Singapore, but to an island south of the city-state, where you had to take another ferry into the city. The other place that we both spent time on was on the island of Penang in northern Malaysia. While I had a Malaysian blogger friend to show me around, she hung out in beaches on the north part of the island where lots of young people gathered. Today, these beaches have been “gentrified” as places where lots of wealthy Arabs hand out.
Green is Jewish, which provides an interesting point of view for the variety of religions within this part of the world. She spends Christmas in Singapore, a city that has Buddhist, Muslims, and Christians. She was drawn into the celebration by hanging out with a retired FBI agent on Christmas Eve. When she leaves Asia, after three months, she flies on to the Middle East in order to spend time in Israel.
In ’75, Green journey was the end of what had been known as the “Hippie Trail” which lead overland from Europe to Southeast Asia. Interestingly, at that time, the trail Overlanders were taking went south because of the political issues of traveling across the Soviet Union and China. These days, those making such a journey as I did in 2011, travel further north through China and Russia in order to avoid places like Pakistan, Iran and Iraq. It’s interesting how things change.
This book is a quick read, and I enjoyed it because of the comparisons I was able to make with many of the places we both travelled (36 years apart). I would recommend the book for those who have experienced this part of the world. Another book that deals with overland travel in Asia during the mid-70s that I found enjoyable is Tiziano Terzari’s A Fortune-teller Told Me: Earthbound Travels in the Far East.
The tree at my house (we put it in the dining room this year so it can be seen better from outside).
Merry Christmas everyone. Today was beautiful in South Georgia, a nice day for a walk with the dog, after opening present, playing a new board game (Ticket to Ride: Rails and Sails), and continually snacking on ham. For the past few days, we’ve experienced a deluge (6 inches of so of rain). But yesterday afternoon, the clouds dispersed in times for us to line the church driveway with luminaries for our evening service. Our sanctuary is most beautiful when decorated and filled with candles. Unfortunately, I’ve been fighting a head cold for the past week, but thankfully I was on an uptick yesterday, which made the evening much more pleasant. I will work tomorrow and then be on vacation for the rest of the year. But I do have a few more post. Below is my message for the candlelight service last night.
Christmas Eve Meditation 2019
Jeff Garrison
Bethlehem wasn’t a thriving town. It wasn’t the capital. It was off the beaten path. It’d seen its better years as Jerusalem grew and became the place to be. When you entered the city limits, there might have been a commentative sign acknowledging their favorite son, David, who went on to be the King of Israel. But I bet there were some who still harbored ill feelings toward David. He was the one who put Jerusalem on the map, positioning the Ark of the Covenant on the spot where Solomon would build the temple. Since those two, David and Solomon, almost a 1000 years earlier, Jerusalem prospered while Bethlehem slipped into a second-rate town.
Bethlehem was the type of town easily by-passed or driven through without taking a second glace. It might have had a blinking stoplight, or maybe not, like the towns we drive through when we get off the interstate.
Bethlehem could have been a setting for an Edward Hopper painting. He’s mostly known for “Nighthawks” a painting of an empty town at night with just a handful of lonely people hanging out in a diner. It’s often been parodied in art, with folks like James Dean and Marilyn Monroe sitting at counter. But all his paintings are sparsely populated, providing a sense that time has passed his urban landscapes by. Or maybe the town could be a setting for a Tom Wait’s song—the roughness of his voice describing lonely and rejected people, struggling through life.
In many ways, Luke sets up Bethlehem by placing the birth of the Prince of Peace in a historical context. In Rome, we have Augustus, the son of Julius Caesar. Some twenty-five years earlier, he had defeated all his enemies and the entire empire is now at peace. The glory of Rome far outshines even Jerusalem and makes Bethlehem seem like a dot on a map. Caesar has the power that can be felt in a place like Bethlehem, but he probably never even heard of the hamlet. And, of course, the peace Rome provides is conditional. This peace is maintained at the sharp points of its Legion’s spears and swords and, for those who would like to challenge the forced peace, the threat of crucifixion. Luke also tells us Quirinus is the governor of Syria.
The tree in our sanctuary. Photo by Lynne Kaley
Those rulers are in high places. They dress in fancy robes, eat at elaborate banquets, and live in lavished palaces. They aren’t bothered by the inconvenience their decrees place on folks like Mary and Joseph. This couple is one of a million peons caught up in the clog of the empire’s machinery. If the empire says, jump, they ask how high. If the empire says go to their ancestral city, they pack their bags. It’s easy and a lot safer to blindly follow directions than to challenge the system. So, Mary and Joseph, along with others, pack their bags and head out into a world with no McDonalds and Holiday Inns at interchanges. For Mary and Joseph, they head south, toward Bethlehem.
If there were anyone with even less joy than those who lived or stayed in Bethlehem, and those who are making their way to the home of their ancestors, ancestors who may not have lived there for generations, it would be the shepherds. The sheepherders are near the bottom of the economic ladder. They spend their time, especially at night, with their flocks out grazing. The sheep are all they have. They have to protect them. They can’t risk a wolf or lion eating one of their lambs. So, they camp out with the sheep, with a staff and rocks at hand to ward off any intruder. They don’t even like going to town because people look down on them and complain that they smell.
You can’t get much more isolated than this—a couple who can’t find proper lodging in Bethlehem, with the wife that’s pregnant, and some shepherds watching their flocks at night. But their hopelessness quickly changes as Mary gives birth and places her baby in a manger. There is something about a baby, a newborn, which delights us all. Perhaps it’s the hope that a child represents. Or the child serves as an acknowledgement that we, as a specie, will live on. While birth is a special time for parents and grandparents, an infant child has a way to melt the hearts of strangers who smile and make funny faces and feel blessed if the mother allows them to hold the child for just a moment.
This child that comes into this town and brings joy. Joy comes not just to the parents, but also to the angels. The angels share the joy with the shepherds. The shepherds want in on the act, so they leave their flocks and seek out the child. All heaven is singing and sharing the song with a handful of folks on earth. The shepherds also are let on the secret that, so far, only Mary and Elizabeth and their families share. This child, who is to be named Jesus, which is the same word that in the Old Testament is translated as Joshua, is coming to save the world. Soon, in a few generations, the song will spread around the known world.
And for this night, the sleepy hamlet of Bethlehem is filled with joy. The darkness cannot hide the joy in the hearts of this young mother and father and the shepherds. Something has changed. Yes, a child has been born. But more importantly, this child is the incarnation. God has come in the flesh, in a way that we can understand. God has come in a way to reach all people, from the lowly shepherds, to the oppressed people on the edge of the empire, to all the world. This child, whose birth we celebrate, has brought joy to the world.
Friends, as we light candles and recall that night in song, may you be filled with the joy of hope that comes from placing our trust in Jesus. Amen.
©2019
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
Matthew 1:18-25
December 22, 2019
The Isaiah scripture is also referenced in Matthew’s telling of the birth narrative.[1] Before I read it, let me tell you a bit about the opening of Matthew’s gospel. The Gospel of Matthew is filled with surprises. It begins with a genealogy of Jesus. That seems innocent enough, but within the names, we find scandals. There are four women mentioned, none of who seem to meet the Jewish holiness standards. Two are foreigners, and there’s a prostitute, an adulterer and one involved with her father-in-law…[2] Matthew drives home the point that God works in mysterious ways and can use anyone to further the kingdom. Following the genealogy, we are told of Jesus’ birth and again, we find a scandal. A woman is pregnant and the man she’s to marry is not the father. Joseph, the man, is about ready throw in the towel, but then he has a dream. Let’s listen to the text. Read Matthew 1:18-25.
###
Christmas often doesn’t seem peaceful. Pressure can build as we strive to find the right gifts for our loved ones, or fix the perfect meal, or attend all the parties and concerts.
The holiday stands in contrast to the birth of the Prince of Peace, as it was with a woman shopping in one of those big city department stores. It was a multi-floored building, with escalators and elevators and an entire floor devoted to toys. To her four and six-year-olds, it seemed like heaven. The mother was reminded of another place. Her kids kept singing the “I want this” song over and over. On every aisle they discovered a new “I gotta have” toy. Frazzled and about to come unglued, the lady finally paid for her purchases. She dragged the bags and her two kids to the elevator. The door opened. She and the kids and the presents squeezed in. When the door closed, she let out a sigh of relief and blurted, “Whoever started this whole Christmas thing should be found, strung up and shot!” From the back of the elevator, a calm quiet voice responded, “Don’t worry, madam, we already crucified him.”[3]
That joke reminds us that the Christmas story is all a part of a larger drama in which God is directing. Christmas is a celebration of the God coming to us in a way we can understand. It’s a new genesis (which we’ll discuss in a bit). In that child born of Mary, a peaceful joy is offered to the world. We can now experience forgiveness and to be reunited with God. Christmas, Good Friday and Easter are all linked together.
Birth is always an exciting time, for when a child is born there is no telling what might come from his or her life. But for this child, the child Mary carries, there’s something even more special about him. He’s the Messiah. But he’s not the Messiah folks are expecting. He’s not going to be a great military leader wiping out enemies. He’s not going to be a pretentious king sending decrees out from his throne in Jerusalem. He’s going to be a carpenter and a teacher and a healer. Instead of providing earthly rewards, he’ll erase the gap between us, citizens of earth, and God. He comes to save us from ourselves, from our sins, and from our failures at trying to be our own gods.
God certainly chose a unique way to bring the Messiah into the world. Our text begins simply: “the birth of Jesus took place in this way.” Interestingly, the word for birth used here literally means “the genesis.”[4] With Jesus, there comes a genesis, a new beginning. If you look at the opening chapter of John’s gospel, you’ll see John drawing upon the images of creation as recorded in the first chapter of Genesis; likewise, Matthew reminds us that this isn’t just an ordinary birth. God is starting anew.
This is a new beginning, a genesis. In Romans 5, Paul makes this analogy, comparing the works of Adam, who brought death into the world, with the works of Christ, who brings new life.[5] With Christ, our history with the Almighty, with our Creator, a history marred since Adam, starts over.
This new beginning starts with a young pregnant woman, not yet married. Her fiancé, we’re told, is a righteous man. It’s not easy to be an unwed mother today, but an unwed mother in the first century was in a real pickle. She didn’t have the social services we enjoy today to help such individuals and in a harsh religion that frowned on moral failure, such a woman had few options. She and her child would always be a social outcast. But Mary wasn’t just any woman with an out-of-wedlock pregnancy. She was carrying the Messiah… Her situation is precarious considering the pivotal role she plays in salvation history.
As we would expect, her fiancé is also shocked. We’re told he planned to quickly dismiss Mary which may sound harsh, but not in the culture of that era. He could have gone public and humiliated Mary and, at the same time, made himself look righteous. Because Joseph would have been wronged yet so righteous, his sad eyes would have drawn women. They’d be falling at his feet. But instead of boosting himself at Mary’s disgrace, he decides to quietly dismiss her. Joseph would now have to take the heat. It was an honorable thing to do, for he would protect Mary from crowds (for there would have been those willing to stone her) and he himself would accept her shame. From this story, we learn something about the true nature of righteousness. It’s not just doing what is right according to the laws or customs. It also means taking on, at the expense of oneself, the guilt of another. Christ does this for the world, and to a lesser degree, Joseph was willing to do this for Mary.
The glue that holds this passage together is the Holy Spirit. In a way, the Holy Spirit is like divine matchmaker. The Spirit impregnates Mary, bringing life into her womb and setting off this genesis, this new beginning. The Spirit also works on the other side of the equation, with Joseph, getting him to buy into the plan. Through the dream, Joseph is informed of Mary’s righteousness and of God’s plan for the child she carries. And when Joseph awakes, he decides not to dismiss Mary, but to go ahead with the wedding. They’ll marry and together raise this child and participate in God’s plan for reconciling himself to a fallen world. It’s a good thing Joseph listened to God in this dream.
I’m may have told you before that when I was considering seminary, I had several dreams affirming my decision. I’m not sure I would have been as willing and ready to quit a job, sell a house, and move four states away had it not been for those dreams. In one, I found myself asking if it was worth it as I didn’t really think I was cut out for all this. But in this dream, I heard a very distinct voice saying, “Go ahead and go, and when you’re done, you’ll know what you’re to do.” Notice that I did not know where I was going or what it was that I’d be doing. I had to step out in faith, just as Joseph’s decision still required faith. But these dreams gave me the confidence I needed to pack up and head to seminary.
Joseph’s dream shows us the importance of listening to God and when we listen to God and follow his path, we will often find peace. Let me clarify. I don’t think listening to God means trying to understand all the dreams of our sleep. Often our dreams are a way that our minds sort out stuff. Instead of investing large amounts of time trying to understand what our dreams are telling us, we need prepare ourselves to hear God’s voice by studying Scripture, by praying and by being open to hear God by whatever means he comes to us. God’s word can come many ways: in our sleep, through a thought we have while walking or driving, or in a conversation. What’s important is that we know God’s word enough to make sure what we hear is from God. Notice in our account today how Joseph is reminded of the prophecies in Scripture. For him, that was assurance God was behind this.
A second clarification needs to be made is about the meaning of peace. Obviously, if you read beyond the first chapter of Matthew, you’ll see that peace eludes Mary and Joseph as they flee as refugees to Egypt to escape Herod. The peace they had, in that little bundle of joy they protected, was knowing that they were fulfilling God’s will. God’s Spirit was with them, giving the strength they desperately needed. God’s peace doesn’t mean the absence of conflict, but the assurance of God’s presence. As the Psalmist reminds us, it’s the peace that overwhelms us even in the “shadows of death.”[6]
This passage is about the work of the Holy Spirit, guiding and directing mere mortals, like you and me, to help bring in God’s kingdom. Life is like that. It’s not about us; it’s about God. As for us, today, we, too, need to be open to experiencing that prod from God to take the risk before us. We need to be prodded to step out in faith. God’s Spirit gives us new life. In our prayers, in our Bible Study, in our mediation time, in times of quietness which may only come when we’re asleep, we need to be open to hearing God’s invitation to participate with him in bringing about the kingdom.
We learn in the first chapter of Matthew that God works through ordinary people. I have recently been reading John Kasich’s book, It’s Up to Us. He writes, “Leadership comes in all shapes and sizes, but it almost always starts at home and grows from there.”[7] Well, sometimes, it starts in a manger. And it starts when we respond to God’s call, for God can do great things through us, things that are frightening and things we would never have dreamed of doing on our own. When we hear God’s call and we answer, God will give us the peace to know that he’s with us and will guide us that we might do whatever small part we’re called to do to bring about the peaceful kingdom. Amen.
©2019
[1] Isaiah 7:13-15 was our Old Testament Reading
[2] Tamar (Genesis 38), Rahab (Joshua 2), Ruth (the Moabite with her own book) and Bathsheba (2 Samuel 11)
[3] I have told this story several times. I read the story and modified it from one used got the story years ago from a sermon by Dr Clayton Cobb, St Peter’s by the Sea Presbyterian Church, Rancho Palos Verdes, CA.
[4] Dale Brunner, The Christbook, Matthew 1-12 (Grand Rapids, Eerdmans, 2004), 23.
[5] Romans 5:12-21
[6] Psalm 23.
[7] John Kasich, It’s Up to US: Ten Little Ways We Can Bring About Big Change (Hanover Square Press, 2019), 108.
Granddaddy Faircloth holding me when I was an infant (1957)
Granddaddy Faircloth
Christmas Day, 1966
Jeff Garrison
I’m now ten years older than you were
when I snapped that photo,
a nine year old boy on Christmas morning
with his new camera, a Kodak Instamatic.
It took some persuasion for you to get up
and step outside, but my grandmother coaxed
and with the camera you’d given me
I snapped a slightly crooked shot.
Mom said it was probably the last photo taken of you,
in a dress shirt beside your tall skinny bride, adorn in a white dress,
the two of you standing like sentinels by the holly bush
just off the front stoop where, in summer, we grandkids killed flies.
That photo has been lost for half a century,
but it’s still etched in my mind
your grin and crew cut hair,
and your arm around your wife, my grandma.
I wonder what you were thinking?
Did you want to get back inside to take a drag off your Lucky Strike?
Or sip dark black coffee from your stained cup?
Or ponder when we youn-ins (that rhymed with onions) would be quiet?
Perhaps, though, more was on your mind
as you thought how, in another month, you’d be preparing beds
in order to set out tobacco seed,
but that would be weeks after you took your last breath.
There’s much about you I’m curious to know,
things that’s been lost over the years.
When you visited us that fall of ‘66,
shortly after we moved to Wilmington,
you joked that we now needed a maid since we had a brick house
with two bathrooms.
Later that afternoon, we walked in the woods out back,
and you told of hunting among those pines during the war
when you were a welder at the shipyard,
and how they cut the bottom of your shirt off for missing a deer
Did you ever shoot a deer with that old Savage Stevens,
or did I avenge your bad luck,
when, as a seventeen year old, I downed a six pointer in Holly Shelter Swamp,
the only deer I ever had in that double-barrel (or any barrel’s) sights?
And I like to have an opportunity to see you once more
work in a tobacco field with your mule, Hoe-handle, pulling the plow,
or perched up on top of that orange Allis-Chambers tractor,
pulling a sled of Bright Leaf up to the barn for curing.
But what I’d really like to experience is a night with you at the barn,
keeping the fires hot by feeding wood into the heaters
under a sky filled with stars and lightning bugs
and the flickering kerosene lantern that now sits on my mantel.
On those evening, swapping stories with friends,
did your mouth water for something to quench your thirst,
something smooth that you’d long sworn off,
but the desire, I expect, was still there?
It must have taken quite a bit of strength,
to give up the drink and break with some of your brothers
as you strove to live a straight life
and earn the respect of your mother-in-law.
But I will never know, in this realm at least, any of this
and must be content of my memories of that Christmas,
in the home that belonged to the women around you,
your mother-in-law, your wife and your daughters.
You’d cut a beautiful red cedar that year,
decorated it with white lights, red bulbs,
and an abundance of icicles with presents for your grandkids
filling the floor around the base of the tree.
After our presents were opened,
you called us back to your bedroom where,
with boxes of fruits and nuts you stuffed bags for everyone,
contents that’ll have to last a lifetime.
Granddaddy’s lantern: I have often used this when fishing or camping at night for it doesn’t blind you like a Coleman lantern
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
Luke 1:46-55
December 15, 2019
Earlier in the first chapter of Luke’s gospel, the angel Gabriel met Mary in Nazareth to give her the good news. However, I’m not sure that everyone saw this as good news. I am not even sure Mary saw it that way. After all, she was just a young woman. Tradition has it she was only 14 years old, and here’s this angel is talking about all of what this child she’s to carry will do. Mary wonders how it’s to happen and told that the Holy Spirit will fill her, and she’ll conceive. In addition, she’s told that her relative, the old barren Elizabeth, is also pregnant and will bear a son. God appears to be active with the oldest and the youngest.
Upon hearing this news, Mary doesn’t break out in song. Instead, she humbly submits, telling Gabriel, “Here am I, the servant of the Lord: let it be with me according to your word.” The angel departs, and Mary leaves Galilee for the Judean hill country where Elizabeth lives. It used to be common, even when I was in high school, for an unmarried pregnant girl to be shipped off to an aunt or some other relative in a different city. Maybe that’s part of Mary’s desire to travel: to get away from those who know her and who whisper behind her back as her belly grows.
“Girl, how’d you get yourself in this mess?” isn’t how Elizabeth greets Mary. Instead, she starts out praising Mary, wondering what she, Elizabeth, has done to deserve such a visit. She proclaims Mary as the most blessed of all women. Mary breaks out in song. She didn’t sing to Gabriel, at the heavenly encounter she had earlier. She sings when another person, one whom must have known as a kind older woman, confirms her status.[1] At this point, Mary belts it out in a song the church has been singing for 2,000 years.
My soul magnifies the Lord,
And my spirit rejoices in God my Savior.
Mary is joyous, but not in the manner we think of joy. For us, joy is a child experiencing an ice cream cone for the first time or us witnessing the child’s wonder. Joy is a mother watching her son make a home run as a Little Leaguer. Joy is laugher at a good joke, the awe of a beautiful sunset without sand gnats, sitting around a fire telling stories when it’s not too cold, or the Pirates winning the World Series. All these things are great, but is this what joy really is? Or is it something deeper.
When Jesus was at table with his disciples on the night before his crucifixion, he instructs his disciples and then says he’s telling them all this so that his joy will be in them, and that their joy will be complete.[2] Jesus then continues, talking about laying down their lives and how the world is going to hate them. I tell you, joy during troubling news is common throughout Scripture.
When Paul writes from prison to the Philippians, he tells them how he’s joyous when he prays for them and asks them to make his joy complete by being of the mind as Christ.[3] When he chastises the Corinthians for being stingy, he lifts up the Macedonians who despite a “severe ordeal of affliction” and “extreme poverty,” have abundant joy that’s shown in their generosity.[4] James, the brother of Jesus, suggests we consider our trials as joy, for they help us grow in endurance and maturity.[5] Peter speaks of rejoicing in our suffering that will lead to us being joyful when Christ’s glory is reveal.[6] All these passages in the New Testament suggest that joy isn’t the absence of suffering. Joy is something deeper within us, a hope that we have in what God is doing in the world. Because we place our trust in God, we should be joyful even when things are tough because we know God is beside us, working out things for our well-being.
This idea of joy in times of trouble isn’t limited to the New Testament. Our Old Testament reading today from the Book of Isaiah is a song of promise and joy sung during a time of war and destruction. In the chapter before this reading, God pronounces judgment to the nations, and after this song, we learn the Assyrians are threatening Jerusalem. As one commentator on this passage says, “Isaiah dares to speak a word out of place. A word that refused to wait until things improve.”[7]
This is unabashed joy; joy regardless of the situation. All is not well in the world, then or now, but we as believers are called to see beyond the present and to have faith in what God’s doing. We are called to be joyous and to have hope and to share our hope with others. In the long arch of history the impeachment of a President, a rogue nation like North Korea having rockets and weapons of mass destruction, and the eruption of a volcano in New Zealand (or heaven help us, if one blew up in Bluffton) isn’t the final word. For we believe God has things under control and even if we screw everything up and blow the planet to smithereens, God will not let that be the final word.
So, we go back to that young woman, pregnant and not yet married, in a world without social safety nets. You can’t be much more vulnerable than Mary, standing before Elizabeth. Yet she breaks out in this beautiful song that focuses on what God is doing. Mary doesn’t speak of what God is doing for her, personally, except for having chosen her. She’s not thankful for a new house, or car, or clothes or a servant. Her lot is not joyful by most definitions. She has this son that runs away at the age of 12.[8] He’ll says some things that are hurtful during his ministry, even asking rhetorically “who is my father and mother?”[9] (How do you think that made her feel?) And if that’s not enough, she’s there at the end, watching that bundle of joy whom she carried in her belly die on the cross.
Despite all the heartache Mary experienced, she still had joy in her heart, not because of her experiences, but what God was doing in the world through the son whom she brought into the world. Her hope wasn’t for an easy life and a comfortable retirement as she watched her son succeed in business. Her hope was in the future, knowing that she was playing a little part in God’s great drama of turning the world on its head. In the fullness of time, God will show mercy on the poor, people like her, who find themselves blessed beyond measure.
What does all this unabashed joy, which at times seem absurd, mean to us? It means that we, knowing that God is in control, need to do what is right and just despite what society, peer pressure or even an unjust law might say. Unabashed joy influences our behavior for it means we’re not invested for the short term. As people of faith, we’re committed for the long term, longing for that new heaven and new earth, praying “Come, Lord Jesus, come.”
Don’t confuse joy with happiness. There wasn’t much in Mary’s life that was happy, and that may also be true for us. Happiness is on the surface, but joy resides deep within us. As David Brooks writes in his book The Second Mountain, “We can help create happiness, but we are seized by joy. We are pleased by happiness, but we are transformed by joy.”[10]
Be transformed! Show unabashed joy. Don’t let discouragement or the news of the world get you down. Trust in the Lord and believe in God’s goodness and let joy transform you. Amen.
©2019
[1] Norval Geldenhuys, The New International Commentary on the New Testament: The Gospel of Luke (Grand Rapids, Eerdmans, 1983), 84.
[2] John 15:11
[3] Philippians 1:4, 2:2.
[4] 2 Corinthians 8:1-2.
[5] James 1:2.
[6] 1 Peter 4:13.
[7] Barbara Lundbald, as quoted in the “Sermon Fodder” for “Heaven and Nature Sings” by the Worship Design Studio.
[8] Luke 2:41ff.
[9] John 2:4 and Matthew 12:48.
[10] David Brooks, The Second Mountain (Random House, 2019), xxiv. Quote obtained from a Facebook post on joy.
A little over a month ago, I attended the closing session of the Pat Conroy festival. Most of the events were held in Beaufort, SC, but the closing one was held in Bluffton, which is just across the river a bit from Savannah. It featured four South Carolina authors talking about place. Afterwards, I picked up a couple more John Lane books, who was one of the authors. I’d previously read two of Lane’s books: My Paddle to the Sea and Waist Deep in Black Water.
John Lane, Coyote Settles the South (Athens, GA: University of Georgia Press, 2016), 186 pages.
The first coyote I saw was thirty-some years ago outside of Virginia City, Nevada. Since then, I have seen them in many other parts of the West, but also in areas far beyond their original range. At one point, coyotes only existed in the American West. As their territory changed, the adapted and began to move eastward. In this book, which is kind of a travel narrative, Lane sets out across the South to learn about how coyotes are adapting to their new territories in the southern part of the country. These animals are taking place of the red wolves, who used to roam eastern woods. They are generally hated, in the same category that rattlesnakes are hated, as they are considered a threat to humans and especially to our pets. While there has been human death to coyotes (there was one during his study of the animal), the animal is very problematic for pets, especially small dogs and cats. They help cull the deer population (they prefer to eat fawns), love fruit, but will also eat armadillos (flip ‘em over and eat ‘em on the half shell). As the coyote is well established and able to reside close to humans, it appears there will be no going back. The beast is a hard one to trap, as one famous coyote from West Virginia showed. This animal was even known to relieve himself right next to traps set out for him as if he was playing with his trappers. After figuring out that it was a male, they finally trapped him using a captive female coyote in heat!
In addition to discussing the coyote, Lane spends time talking about the red wolf, as specie that is in even more danger from the coyote, for the two species have been known to interbred. By the time I got through this book, I find myself having more respect for the coyotes. Lane begins the book describing the first time he heard them at his house in northwest South Carolina. Having been surprised to hear them baying in the woods while out at night skiing in Michigan, I can attest, it’s a beautiful but also hair-raising sound. Pick up this book if you’re interested in nature and in an animal that is a lot cleverer than the cartoon depiction of Wile E. Coyote.
John Lane Abandon Quarry (Macon, GA: Mercer University Press, 2010), 169 pages.
This is a wonderful collection of poems that capture places and events (real and imagined) in Lane’s life. The author has a keen vision for what’s happening around him, as he travels from Cumberland Island along the Georgia coast to the Virginia mountains and places in between. The bulk of the book are made up of selections from seven previously books of poetry published by Lane. In addition to these seven, there are new poems, some from earlier in his life and others written more recently. Many of the imagined poems were about visits from his father who’d committed suicide when Lane was a child. His father, a veteran of World War II, was a mechanic who ran a gas station. In these “dreams,” he teaches his son about cars and his mother (and women) among other things. I imagine it was helpful for Lane to write these verses. I was shocked to find a poem, “Chicory Brought Inside,” that ties together chicory and Queen Anne’s Lace, two common roadside flowers that often grow together along the ways of the Midwest. It reminded me of a similar poem I wrote years ago. A place I discovered that we’ve both written poems is “Connemara,” the vacation home for Carl Sandburg in the North Carolina mountains. I am still trying to find my poem, which was written in the early 80s. I enjoyed this book of poems immensely and highly recommend them.
Chicory and Lace
by Jeff Garrison, 2009
A smile broke over your face.
You blushed as your eyes twinkled
when you noticed me watching
you raise the cup to your lips
and gently blow across the dark,
before sipping.
It was a chicory blend, wasn’t it?
Served early in the morning
at the sidewalk café
in that town along the Sierra foothills.
We searched for the ghosts of 49ers
yet couldn’t exonerate the spirits of our past.
We lingered that morning, I mesmerized by you,
sitting slightly sideways in a wrought iron chair,
a lacy-white sundress with blue flowers
that stood out against your tanned shoulders and arms,
and those long shapely legs, crossed at the knees,
a flip-flop dangling from your rocking foot
I don’t remember of what we talked,
nor now, even what year it was
for there have been so many since.
But I remember the chicory coffee and the lace of your dress
and seeing chicory grow wild along the roadside,
amongst the Queen Anne Lace, I smile.
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
Matthew 3:1-12
December 8, 2019
Our series, “Let Heaven and Nature Sing,” is all about joy. But this series is also based on traditional lectionary readings from scripture and today’s reading, on the second Sunday of Advent, includes the preaching of John the Baptist. How shall we bring joy out of this guy who today would be passed over as a desert lunatic? The background material for the series even suggest doing a cantata today and skipping the sermon based on this text. To me, that’s not fair to Scripture. We need to wrestle with what God is trying to tell us in his book.
Have you ever thought about this: Why do we only find the story of Jesus’ birth in two of the gospels: Matthew and Luke? And why do we find the story of John the Baptist preparing the way for the Messiah in all four of the gospels? And in all four gospels, there is the link back to Isaiah, of that voice howling out in the wilderness.[1] The story of John the Baptist is one with which Scripture demands that we contend. What are we being told here? How does the fire and brimstone preaching of John the Baptist prepare us for the loving message of Jesus?
If we want to get to the good news, we must face up to the bad. So, let’s listen to what John has to say to us. Read Matthew 3:1-12.
###
There were two preachers who, on their day off, enjoyed fishing. They were at a river next to a highway. Before sitting on the bank, where they’d watch their corks in the hope they’d be the tug of a fish on the line, they posted a sign. It read, “The end is near! Turn yourself around before it’s too late.”
A few minutes later a car flew by. Seeing the sign, the driver yelled out, “Keep your religion to yourself, you fanatics.” He then hit the gas, sending rocks flying and dust swirling as he headed around a curve.
Just a moment later, there was a screech from braking tires, followed by a big splash.
One of the preachers looked at the other and asked, “Do you think we should have, instead, put up a sign that said, ‘Bridge Out’?”
I wonder about John’s message. It’s so harsh, maybe he should have toned down his words. Repeatedly, he talks of fire, and not the warming flames of a campfire, but the ominous fire like those recently experienced in California and Australia. “You brood of vipers,” he calls the religious leaders of the day. That doesn’t sound very loving, does it? Jesus would never say that, would he? Actually, he does; twice in Matthew’s gospel.[2] What does this phrase mean? And how does this relate to a loving God?
Law and gospel must go together. In scripture, law came at Sinai during the Exodus and the gospel came roughly 1400 years later with the exemplary life, atoning death and glorious resurrection of Jesus. John is the last in a series of prophets who show our failure of abiding by the law as he calls us to clean up our acts. God is doing something new and marvelous and we need to be ready! All this talk about fire and calling people snakes is a way to get our attention, to force us to examine our own failings so that we might repent and follow Jesus.
Law and gospel, they go together. To understand the story of scripture, we can’t just push off the “law” parts of the Bible and only focus on the gospel. The gospel makes no sense without the law. The gospel is about how God saves us from our failures, our sin. Those who listened to and were moved by John’s preaching were left with no choice but to confess their sins in order to begin the process of repentance, a word that means to turn around or to start in a new direction. They had to leave sin behind as they joyfully accept what God was doing in their midst.
So, why does John call the religious teachers of the day a brood of vipers? It’s a pretty harsh term. For many people, it conjures up nightmares, a den full of snakes, a place for Indiana Jones but not the rest of us. In the desert, you must be careful when trying to find shade under a rock overhang or in a grotto or cave. Snakes tend to gather in such places to avoid the heat of the day and you don’t want to be messing with them. John implies their words are poisonous.
Consider this: both the leaders of the day and John took seriously the sins of the people. But the difference is that the leaders of the day taught that people must justify themselves before God through an elaborate system of sacrifices, whereas John twists the concern of sin around to where people must accuse themselves before God, confessing their sins, so that they might be washed of them as symbolized in baptism.[3]
But it all comes back to this. God is doing something new. With John the Baptist, God was paving the way for his Son to come on the scene and to teach people a new way to live and to be human. In order to prepare for something new, people must admit their own sinfulness and to realize that they long for something better. Of course, if we don’t think we need to be better, there’s a warning here. Judgment that comes from transgressing the law is a reality. So, do we ignore our sinfulness and die to the law? Or do we accept and confess our sinfulness and embrace the grace that Jesus’ offers? Those are our choices.
Advent is the time for us to prepare for the loving tenderness shown by Jesus. If God is redeeming this world, if God is promising a new heaven and a new earth, then we should want to be ready to receive this gift. But to receive the gift, we must leave the past behind. We have to be willing to examine deep within our souls and to offer up all that’s not godly so that we might be both cleansed of our sin and have the room to accept Christ into our hearts. We must be willing to allow ourselves to be transformed into something new and better. For Advent is a time not only to remember that Christ came, but that he will come again, and we must be ready.
Your assignment for this week is to examine yourself, your words, your thoughts, your actions. What have you done that’s not been Christ-like? Have you harbored bitterness or showed unkindness or said things that twisted the truth or belittled another? If so, bring it to God. Get rid of the darkness by bringing it to the light.
We must not just prepare ourselves; we should prepare the church, which is, in the final events of history, to be the bride of Christ.[4] That means that the church must confront all it’s done that’s not been holy, and there’s been a lot. From the crusades to the inquisition and witch-hunts, from the support of slavery and conquest to our tendency to huddle into crowds of similar people and turn our backs on the world for which Christ came and gave his life. The earthly church has not always been holy. We need to confess this! John’s call to the religious establishment of the day still holds. Are we willing to confess our shortcomings and to be open to what God is doing in the world? That means we must give up control, for this enterprise known as the church isn’t about us. It’s about God. It’s about us bringing glory to God as we serve as the hands and the feet of our Lord in the world.
Is there loving joy in this passage that will lead to us “repeat the sounding joy”? Yes, there is, but we must get beyond the call to prepare, which John focuses on, and realize that God is doing a new thing. We trust in a God of resurrection. Even if the world destroys itself, God won’t let that be the final word. God wants to remake us. John’s role is to prepare us. Our role is to respond to John’s call to repentance so we might be open to what God is doing in our lives and in our fellowship. Confession and repentance may not in favor in today’s secular world, but in the church, it’s where we begin. All of us need to take a deep look at ourselves and then turn to God and fall on our knees… Amen.
©2019
[1] Isaiah 40:3-5. Frederick Dale Bruner, The Christbook, Matthew 1-12 (Grand Rapids: Eerdman, 2004), 88.
[2] Matthew 12:34 and 23:33.
[3] Bruner, 89. Bruner attributes this idea of a shift from justifying to accusing to Matthew Henry’s Commentary (1721).
[4] Revelation 21:2.
Yep, that’s me, decked out in formal threads with a McKenzie tartan kilt
Jeff Garrison
A talk given at the St. Andrew Society for the City of Savannah’s Annual Banquet
November 30, 2019
The title for my talk this evening is “A Glorious Defeat.” By the time I’m done, I hope you understand what I’m talking about.
Alistair noted in my introduction that I’m from North Carolina. Like most Tarheels, I’m proud of my heritage. This pride is especially true of those of us of Highlander lineage. We take after St. Andrew, whose name in Greek implies manliness, valor, and bravery. We struggle with humility.
Of course, there is no Garrison clan. The Garrisons may have even been carpetbaggers for all I know. (actually, they were in NC around High Point before the Civil War). My great-grandfather Garrison moved into the land of the Highlanders of North Carolina early in the 20th Century. Twenty years later, his son set his eyes on a McKenzie girl. They married and had a son, who would later marry and have a son, and that’s where I come into the story. But if you look back through my family, you’ll find a lot of Scots blood: Blues, Blacks, McDonalds, McCaskills, McLeods, and such. But the McKenzies are on both sides. My paternal grandmother was a McKenzie, as was my maternal great-grandmother. I wear this tartan honestly and pray the inbreeding isn’t too damning.
So, why are there so many Highlanders in North Carolina? One former governor of the Old North State proclaimed there are more Highlanders in North Carolina than any other country, including Scotland. I’m not sure that’s the case, but for some reason, Highlanders began pouring into the colony in the early 1730s, long before the Battle of Culloden. And actually, they didn’t settle throughout North Carolina. They mainly settled along the Cape Fear River and its tributaries. The Lowlanders mostly stayed close to the coast, while the lands to the west and north were settled by Scot-Irish (which sounds like a badly blended whisky).
Why did so many Highlanders head to the Sandhills? After all, it’s nothing like Scotland. There are no mountains or sweeping shorelines and the weather tends to be fairly mild. Two things: First of all, as beautiful as Scotland is, especially the Highlands, it’s not the best country to farm. These early Scot settlers were drawn to the rich land without rocks. It’s a lot easier to plow sand. This land that was abundant and cheap (after all, they were Scots).
At the podium. Photo by Jason Talsness
The second reason they came and concentrated themselves there is that the merchants in Wilmington marketed the region. If you look at a map of North Carolina, you’d notice that the rivers in the Western Piedmont and eastern mountains all flowed into South Carolina. The Cape Fear is the only river in North Carolina suitable for ocean going traffic. These merchants wanted farms and settlements so they could trade both up river and across the Atlantic.
Highlanders poured into North Carolina, mostly through the port of Wilmington, where they piled their belongings in long boats for the tough paddle upriver. They made their way to Cross Creek. (What kind of name is that? How does one creek cross another? Or is this a creek mad at the world?) But that name didn’t stick, except for in a shopping mall. And that mall probably won’t be there much longer. After the Revolution, the citizens of Cross Creek changed the name of the town to Fayetteville in honor of the Layfette, the French General who aided Washington. But that would be in the future, beyond the story I’m telling.
As these piney woods filled with Scots, they set out clearing land so they could plant corn, turnips and beans. They raised hogs and sheep, and kept a cow or two. They built mills for grinding grain and sawing lumber. They cut heart-pine timber and saved the tall straight logs to be used as masts on ships. They collected pitch from the pines and distilled turpentine. They did some other distilling, too, with something other than pine sap. I’m sure there was a field or two of barley. That which wasn’t drunk, along with the naval stores, were floated down the Cape Fear to Wilmington. There, it was shipped out across the sea. Life was pretty good. But along came a war, a war that brought division to the region just as it had to their homeland in 1745.
Early in 1776, the governor of the colony sounded the call to raise an army of Highlanders. The goal was 3,000 men, enough to help the regular British army nip the revolution in the bud. They called upon General Donald MacDonald (Donald McDonald, you gotta admit, we Scots aren’t the most creative when it comes to names). MacDonald, a loyalist and experienced British officer, went through the Carolina Pine Barrens recruiting. He was only able to muster an army of 1,600. These recruits weren’t overly excited about war, and desertions started as soon as marching commenced. They gathered at Cross Creek, thinking they were going to join a large British force, only to learn that the Brits were still at sea. So they began to make their way toward Wilmington.
It was a miserable hike. Cold and wet. A small band of Patriots from Wilmington had an annoying habit of blocking their path at key points along the way, forcing them to take long muddy detours. As these Highlanders were not trained, and only about half of them had weapons, MacDonald hoped to avoid battle until he joined with the British regulars and his men were armed.
On the night of February 25th, they were 20 miles from Wilmington. Their path again was blocked by Patriots. Thinking they had superior numbers, they decided to strike. The Patriots were camping with their backs against the creek, at Widow Moore’s Creek Bridge. General MacDonald, being ill, relinquished command to the less experienced Colonel McLeod. Assembling the men in the early morning hours of February 26. Stuffing socks in the bag pipes, for it’s hard to be stealth with pipes blaring, they quietly marched off to surprise the enemy. Arriving at the encampment in front of the bridge, they found it abandoned. But the campfires were still warm. Then they noticed the planking over the bridge had been removed.
Col. Mcleod handpicked a contingent of men to cross the creek and to see where the enemy might be hiding. Dawn was just beginning to break, and a fog concealed the lowlands around the water. They carefully crossed the slippery timbers which had been greased with fat, probably from the Patriot’s evening barbecue.
Coming off the bridge, they silently made their way through the fog and up the road out of the swamp. Maybe a twig snap, for suddenly, someone ahead shouted, “Who goes there?” “A Friend of the King,” was the response, followed by something mumbled in Gaelic. At that point, knowing the enemy was just ahead, they drew sabers and charged up the road yelling “King George and Broadswords.” They were brave, living up to Andrew’s name. But the Patriots had dug in. It was a trap.
The patriots held their fire, hiding behind breastworks as the Scots came out of the fog. They charged as if they were William Wallace reincarnated. When only 15 or 20 yards from the line, the Patriots opened fire. In addition to their muskets, they were armed with two small canons loaded with grapeshot. With the road being flanked on both sides by swamp, the Scots were trapped. McLeod fell first, followed by fifty-some of his handpicked men. The rest of the Highlanders fled. The battle lasted only minutes. Over the next couple of days, 800 or so of the Highlanders were captured. Some were pardoned and went back to their farms, but many fled or were banished to Nova Scotia, Florida or the West Indies.
The defeat meant the British could not control the interior of the South and were severely hampered in their efforts at defeating the colonists. That summer, in Philadelphia, the Continental Congress issued the Declaration of Independence. Many of those who had refused to join General MacDonald, such as my Umpteenth Great Grandfather Hugh McKenzie, joined in the fight for Independence.
Defeat can be bitter, especially for the proud manly sons of St. Andrew. But in time, God’s providential hand can be seen. As in Culloden, which strengthened the United Kingdom as the nation rose to reign supreme in the 19th Century, the defeat at Moore’s Creek was one step toward the creation of our great nation. At the time, these Highlanders had no idea, but theirs was a glorious defeat. Thank you.
In January 2018, I gave the keynote at the Society’s “Burns’ Night” banquet. Click here to read my talk, which I was more humorous than this one.
Sources:
McKenzie, James Duncan, Family History: A Comprehensive Record of the McKenzie Family from the Immigration of Hugh McKenzie to America from Scotland about the year 1750 and Continuing through the Present. (Unpublished Manuscript, 1940).
Meyer, Duane. The Highland Scots of North Carolina, 1732-1776. (Chapel Hill, NC: University of North Carolina Press, 1957, 1961).
Powell, William S. North Carolina Gazetteer: A Dictionary of Tar Heel Places (Chapel Hill, NC: University of North Carolina Press, 1968).
Ray, Celeste. Highland Heritage: Scottish Americans in the American South. (Chapel Hill, NC: University of North Carolina Press, 2001).
Wikepedia, “The Battle of Moore’s Creek Bridge,” https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Battle_of_Moore%27s_Creek_Bridge (accessed November 20, 2019).
Every day, Garrison Keillor sends out a new edition of “The Writer’s Almanac.” He always begins each day’s post with a poem. Today’s poem was by Charles Simic and titled “Nineteen Thirty-eight.” Thinking about his poem written about the year of his birth, I recalled a piece I wrote a few years ago on the year I was born. I wrote this in prose, but wondered if it might be crafted into a poem? Probably not this week… This piece originally appeared in my former blog.
1957
Jeff Garrison
Ike II
I arrived at the Moore County Hospital, just outside of Pinehurst, on a Wednesday morning in mid-January 1957. The highways we drove home on through the Sandhills were all paved by then, but many of the county roads including the one we lived on were still dirt. It was a simpler time. Longleaf pines surrounded the highways and golf courses and small farms raising bright-leaf tobacco dotted the landscape. The Lower Little River was populated by my relatives. We were mostly descendants from Highlanders from Scotland and for us, tobacco was king (and still considered safe). It sold for 59 cents a pound. Nearly a half million acres were raised in North Carolina, producing over 1700 pounds an acre. You can do the math.
In the same month I arrived, a meeting of African-American pastors led to the Southern Christian Leadership Conference. We’d hear more about them in the next decade as integration was moving into the forefront. Before the year was out, there’d be the incident in Little Rock and the Senate under the leadership of Lyndon Johnson passed the first civil rights legislation since the Reconstruction. We’d also be hearing more about civil rights and Johnston in the years ahead.
Two days after my arrival, three B-52s made the first non-stop around-the-world flights and General Curtis LeMay bragged that we could drop a hydrogen bomb anywhere in the world. The one place we did drop one that year, accidentally, was New Mexico. Thankfully, it didn’t detonate which is why no one knew about it. The military were exploding bombs in Nevada but said everything was safe and no one knew differently except for the sheepherders whose flocks began to lose their wool and die off. There were other nuclear accidents in ’57 in the US and UK, but we didn’t know about them. We just trusted that our governments would never do anything to harm us.
Although there were no major wars going on, the world was tense. In October, the first American soldier was killed in Vietnam, a country we’d learn more about. But in ’57, the focus was mostly on the Suez Crisis and the threat of a Soviet nuclear attack. The DEW line was completed in the Arctic. When proposed, it was to provide a six hours warning before the first Soviet bomb could be dropped on an American city. By the time the work was completed, the margin was cut to three hours as Soviet jets had doubled their speed. A few months later it became extraneous as the Soviets launched their first intercontinental ballistic missile. Later, they launch Sputnik and we’d spend the next twelve years in a space race. Amidst all this, some yo-yo created the first plastic pink flamingo. The end was near as prophesied by Nevil Shute, On the Beach, a post-nuclear war novel published in 1957. I’d read it in high school.
To save us from calamity, we placed our faith in Ike, the President, who many thought I resembled as I too had a bald head.Thankfully Ike wasn’t Herod and didn’t waste any time worrying about a newborn impostor as he perfected his golf swing and began his second term as the leader of the free world.
Jack Kerouac published On the Road in 1957, and people were heading out on the road as a new line of fancy cars with high fins and excessive chrome were revealed. The ’57 Chevy became an icon of the era as Ike announced the building of interstates to connect the cities of our nation. Cars ruled! New York City abandoned its trolley cars in 1957, and shortly afterwards the Brooklyn Dodgers (originally the Trolley Dodgers) announced they were moving to Los Angeles. In other sporting news, the University of North Carolina beat Kansas in the NCAA basketball finals. These teams have remained near the top throughout my life. The Milwaukee Braves led by a young Hank Aaron beat the New York Yankees in the World Series. We’d hear more from Aaron and the Yankees, but Milwaukee faded when the Braves high-tailed it to Atlanta. The Detroit Lions, a team whose demise parallels its city, won their last NFL championship.
Ayn Rand published Atlas Shrugged in 1957. Nearly six decades later, “Who is John Galt?” bumper stickers are occasionally spotted on American highways. In the theaters, The Ten Commandments was the top box office success. For a country that seems so religious yet so consumeristic, the commandment about not coveting appears overlooked and Rand “look out for me” philosophy glorified the sin. Other commandments were also being broken as “Peyton Place,” which debuted in theaters, reminded us.
Radios in 1957 were playing the music of Elvis, Buddy Holly, Debbie Reynolds, the Everly Brothers, and Sam Cooke. In Philadelphia, teenagers danced for the first time on American Bandstand as more and more homes acquired televisions. In England, two chaps named Lennon and McCarthy met and would go on change music as we know it. Humphrey Bogart died just two days before my arrival, but it was still a good year for Hollywood. Not only was Moses selling, but so were dogs as children everywhere cried watching Old Yeller. Another movie released was the Bridge over the River Kwai which motivated whistlers everywhere. That old British army tune would later be used in a commercial for a household cleanser and inspired one of the beloved parodies of my childhood:
Comet – it makes your teeth turn green.
Comet – it tastes like gasoline.
Comet – it makes you vomit.
So buy some Comet, and vomit, today!
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Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
Acts 4:32-35
November 24, 2019
“The story of Jesus doesn’t end with Jesus,” Eugene Peterson writes in Christ Plays in Ten Thousand Places. The Christian story continues on in this community and in all communities where people gather to “repent, believe and follow.” Nor does “the supernatural doesn’t stop with Jesus. God’s salvation, which became articulate, visible, and particular in Jesus, continues to be articulate, and particular in the men and women who have been raised to new life in him, the community of the resurrection.”[1]
Ponder the implication of this for a moment. We are a part of a movement that began 20 centuries ago in an obscure part of the world. Christ is still alive, working in his church, whether it’s here on Skidaway Island or in some remote city in China or a hamlet in the savannahs of Africa. Today, the question for us to ponder is this: “what should this community look like?”
In my reading over the past few weeks in preparation for the stewardship campaign, I came across this indictment of the modern church in America:
“One of the reasons churches in North America have trouble guiding people about money is that the church’s economy is built on consumerism. If churches see themselves as suppliers of religious goods and services and their congregants as consumers, then offerings are ‘payments.’”[2]
Contrary to what we often think, the church is not to be a supplier of religious goods and services. The church is to be a fellowship that brings people together under the Lordship of Jesus Christ. Our offerings are to be signs of our gratitude for what God has done for us. To get a good idea of what the church should look like, let’s go back to the first century and consider the church in Jerusalem at the very beginning. Luke paints an interesting picture of this community who pinned their hoped and placed their faith in the resurrection of Jesus Christ. It’s a community of people filled with gratitude. I am reading today’s passage from the Message translation and will put the words on the screens. Read Acts 4:32-35:
I will always be indebted to the congregation in Virginia City, Nevada, a place where I first experienced ministry on my own as a student pastor for a year. The church on the Comstock, at least in the modern era, has always been small. But there was something about the fellowship of that group that made it an attractive place for all kinds of people. The people in the church worked hard together, keeping the church going, which was quite a task in a wooden building built in 1866. But they also worked hard to help one another. And they tried to help others, sending clothes to an orphanage in Mexico and collecting food for a pantry in Carson City.
Every month, this congregation gathered for a dinner party. People from all walks of life came together to enjoy one another’s company. Its appeal was magnetic for there was plenty of laughter at these gatherings.
One of the more colorful townsfolk was a guy named Bob. He could be best described as a skid-row drunk. He lived in a shack outside of town and mostly stayed mostly to himself. But you’d see him several times a day, winding through town, often going down the alleys where he dug through the trash from the bars. He’d eat leftovers, but what he was really after was the dregs of alcohol that remained in the bottles thrown away. Bob would pour these drops into a gallon jar that he toted around with him. Even with its high concentration of alcohol, this was a nasty cocktail none of us would consider drinking.
One evening we had a dinner at the church. As I was walking down the boardwalk, I came upon Bob. I’d been there a few months by this point, so I knew people would be okay with his presence, so I invited him in. He thanked me but wouldn’t come in. I then offered to fix him a plate of food, which he again turned down. One of the women in the church who was walking up the boardwalk, overheard my conversation. She told me that Bob had been invited many times, but would never come in, but suggested we fix him a plate and sit it on the steps. Bob didn’t want to be fussed over, but he would most likely pick up and eat a plate of food if sat out. And that’s what happened. The first plate fixed that evening was for Bob. We covered it with foil and let it at the top of the steps. When we left that evening, the plate was empty.
Virginia City had never been known as a religious place, but that’s okay because our faith isn’t as much about religion as it is about relationships. Our faith manifest itself by being kind and generous and, as we talk about here at SIPC, reflecting the face of Jesus. There was no need for Bob to be uncomfortable inside the church building. We could still provide him a good meal. As a church, we must be willing to meet people where they are at, and not demand that they conform to our ideas or go where we want them to be.
The congregation Luke describes here near the beginning of the book of Acts wasn’t spectacular. It wouldn’t be considered particularly successful according to modern business practices. The fellowship didn’t include the leading folks of Jerusalem. Everyone was poor and marginalized. They didn’t have any glitzy advertising or even a fancy sign out front. After all, they tried to blend in and not stand out because there were those didn’t appreciate their message. But, despite all this, there was something magnetic about this community. They were generous and gracious. They were willing to help each other and to forgive others for the wrongs they’ve done because they’d experienced forgiveness in Jesus Christ. It was this magnetic appeal that drew folks to the church. Why else would someone risk persecutions and isolation by becoming a Christian?
Let’s look at this passage. What they owned wasn’t important. They knew the truth of the Psalmist who proclaimed, “The earth is the Lord’s and all that is in it, the world, and those who live in it.”[3] Instead of holding tight to possessions they knew belonged to God, they willingly shared with one another. They had set their minds on the glorious resurrection of Jesus and knew that was all that mattered. So, they attempted to do what they could to do for others which meant that no one in the fellowship was needy. Because of what God had done for them, they were filled with gratitude and willing to help others.
I recently read an article on why we need to make a weekly commitment to attend church. I’ll post this article I my next e-news. It was written by a young widow who describes the church as “the sweetest fellowship this side of heaven.” Her husband died suddenly one night after having been taken to the hospital by an ambulance for shortness of breath. She was left with seven kids. Before leaving the hospital, she called a friend from church. By the time she was home, the friend was there to sit with her. Others came in to grieve, to bring meals, to help clean the house, fix broken appliances and cars, and to minister to and pray for her and her children. The church is not always perfect, she notes. At times, the church can be even cruel. But when we live up to our calling to reflect Jesus’ face to the world, we demonstrate what was described in our passage today. The church can be the sweetest fellowship this side of heaven.[4]
There are two essential traits we need to foster in our lives to help the church grow in this direction: generosity and graciousness. Think about your life and ask yourself, how generous are you? How gracious are you? What can you do to become more generous and gracious?
Friends, today we receive our estimate of giving offerings for 2020, which is a sign of one half of that last question—how generous we are. We are encouraged to grow in generosity. As Vic Bell suggested last week, we’re to take a step toward being more generous, as we strive to become the church described in Acts. I pray that you will be generous and continue to take steps in this direction. But just as important as generosity is, don’t forget to be graciousness. On your walk with Christ, show grace to one another, just as God has been gracious with us. Realize what God has done and commit yourselves to do what? Say it after me… To be more being generous and gracious. Amen.
©2019
[1] Eugene H. Peterson, Christ Plays in Ten Thousand Places: A Conversation in Spiritual Theology (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2005), 267.
[2] Doug Pagitt from a lists of stewardship quotes that was in an old file of mine.
[3] Psalm 24:1.
[4] https://www.ibelieve.com/faith/5-reasons-you-need-to-make-church-a-weekly-commitment.html
Bonnie Jo Campbell, Once Upon a River (New York: W.W. Norton, 2011), 348 pages.
I enjoyed this novel even though it was hard to get through the opening part which included an incestuous rape of Margo, a teenage girl. I almost put the book down. However, Campbell never glamorized the sex scenes in the book and tells the reader just enough for us to know what happened. The rape sets up a series of events that leads into the story of Margo learning about herself and her own strength while overcoming numerous obstacles. The only thing that appears constant in her life is the river that becomes her home. Margo loves living outside, even when the weather is less than desirable and when she has an option to be in comfort. Reading this book, I was reminded of my own experience after completing the Appalachian Trail. Having spent months outdoors, I was not interested in being inside, either.
While the Kalamazoo, which is where the story is based, is an actual river, much of the scenes described in the book are fictional. The first half of the story takes place on a tributary to the Kalamazoo, the “Stark River,” that doesn’t exist. According to the map, it would be approximately the location of Battle Creek, which flows into the Kalamazoo at the town by the same name. The Stark River here is populated by a rough but resilience class of people who are barely making it and who struggle when their industrial jobs disappear. Having paddled many such rivers in Michigan, I saw a lot of people living in such a condition. Old trailers and shacks dot the flood plain of the rivers. The book captures this lifestyle. In the book, the Kalamazoo is polluted. Just a year before the book was published, an oil pipeline broke on a tributary that flowed into the Kalamazoo. It was the second worst inland oil spill within the United States and took years to clean up.
I enjoyed Campbell’s ability to describe life on the river. While it’s tragic that anyone would have to endure what Margo, the book’s protagonist, had to endure, the reader begins to cheer her on as she struggles to live independently. While she always have to find others to help her, many of whom also take advantage of her vulnerable position, she overcomes the challenges and, by the end of the book, appears to have at least come to understand what’s life is about.
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A Summary (don’t read this if you want to be surprised reading the book): Margo Crane is fifteen years old. She is being raised by her father, as her mother has run away, leaving the two to fend for themselves. The backdrop for the story, which was set in the 70s, is a metal fabrication factory that is slowly shutting down. Margo’s father has lost his job at the factory and now working in a grocery store to provide a meager existence for him and his daughter. They live on the Stark River, just across from extended family members. The book takes an unpleasant twist early in the story when Margo is raped by her uncle. Her father, when he realizes what happened, takes revenge, shooting out her uncle’s tires. This rift causes problems for Margo as she had been used to playing with her cousins and saw her aunt as a mother-figure. Margo has taken to the woods and has become quite a good shot with both a shotgun and rifle. She fashions herself as Annie Oakley. Margo is also out for revenge and shoots her uncle in a place that will curtail his ability to rape anyone else. Unfortunately, it is assumed that Margo’s father shot the uncle and her cousin shoots the father in “self-defense.” Now, like Annie Oakley, she’s truly an orphan and takes off in order to keep the state from taking her into protective custody. Using her grandfather’s boat, she explores the river and finds several different young men with whom to hang out. Sometimes she has consensual sex, but she is also raped. Later, she extracts her revenge, shooting the man who’d raped her in the chest. When his body is found, it is assumed he was shot for a bad drug deal. Over the next two years, Margo learns more about living on the river and befriends a couple of older men who watch out for her, especially now that she’s pregnant. She also cares for one of the men, “Smoke,” who commits suicide by running his wheel chair into the frozen river in order drown himself in a successful attempt not to be moved to a nursing home. Through these events, Margo finds the will for her and her child to live.
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
1 Timothy 6:17-19
November 17, 2019
Last week scripture from Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount was used to explore how we might “look in” on the role money plays in our lives. Because money and possessions have a power that can lead us astray, we must be careful. Today, I’m using a passage from 1st Timothy that has almost the identical message, but now I want us to look out instead of in. How does our use of money impact our community and others? We need to ask ourselves what good comes from where we spend and give our money? What kind of vision do we have for the church, our community, and world and how might we support such a vision? Read 1 Timothy 6:17-19.
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A group of us watched “It’s a Wonderful Life” this week. The turning point of the movie has George Bailey moan that it would be better if he had never been born. Clarence, the angel sent to save him from despair, then provides a glimpse of what his community would be like without him. It goes back to when he saved his brother’s life when he was ten. In the movie, the adult George is a bit envious of his brother who became a hero in the Pacific War by shooting down kamatzes aimed at a troop ship. If he had not saved his brother, his brother would not have been there to save the ship and it would have sunk with 2000 men aboard. He also learns of the good the Bailey’s Savings and Loan has done in allowing people to own homes. In this vision, he sees the families he’d help live in terrible conditions. In fact, the town isn’t the quaint “Bedford Falls” but a raucous “Pottersville,” named for the owner of the bank. The only escape from the drudgery of the town without George appears to be sex and alcohol.
George Bailey had no idea he’d touched so many lives. Sometimes the “little things” we do are hard to see and don’t reach fruition until years later. But if we have our priorities right, we can plant such seeds that have the potential to make a difference in the world. That’s the implication from our passage from the Letter to Timothy. Let’s take this text apart and consider what we’re being told.
Paul speaks of those who are rich in this present age or, as another translation has it, those who are rich at this time.[1] By speaking of the present, Paul implies that those who are rich might not always be that way. Wealth comes with uncertainty. A market collapse could wipe us out. And, as we saw last week, nice things can go bad. They can rust or be eaten by moths or stolen by thieves.[2] The riches of our world are transitory. But Paul isn’t just talking about how riches can be lost or lose value in the present.
He suggests that the present won’t last forever. In God’s economy, gold and silver have little value. As Jesus says, we need to remember to store our treasures in heaven.[3]
Paul, like Jesus, doesn’t condemn riches in and of themselves. Instead, he points out the dangers or the temptations that come with wealth. Those who are rich must be on guard for two temptations. John Calvin called them “pride and deceitful hope.”[4] The two go together, for pride comes from the hope we place in things which will ultimately fail.
Let’s explore these two items deeper: Riches can tempt us to act haughty. In other words, we are tempted to have a big ego, or to think more of ourselves than we should. The extreme example of this type of behavior in the movie “It’s a Wonderful Life” is Mr. Potter. He’s a Scrooge-like character that doesn’t experience the joyous conversion of Dicken’s Scrooge. Riches can be a barrier from the humility that’s needed in order to properly see ourselves in God’s kingdom. Augustine, in a sermon during the 4th Century, reflected on this passage saying riches isn’t the problem, it’s the disease which some get from riches which is pride.[5] The vaccine to this disease is generosity.
The second temptation of riches is that we place our trust, not in God, but in our wealth. Paul reminds us, as Jesus did last week, riches are uncertain. All the wealth in the world can’t reverse certain diseases or stop a speeding bus or prevent a plane crash in bad weather, or whatever demise might befall us. Sooner or later, life will end. We must not place our trust in wealth, but in God, who provides us with the ability to create wealth in this life. God wants what is best for us, so we trust God as we move forward into the next life.
But, while we are here, in this life, we are to use our riches in ways that are pleasing to God. Instead of just enjoying our blessings by ourselves, Paul encourages Timothy to teach others to be rich in their generosity. We are to be people who do good works and who are ready to share with others. A generous life is a well-lived life. Back to the movie, “It’s a Wonderful Life,” George Bailey lives such a life as he has helped many people, and in the end when he needs help, people respond. George, who minutes earlier was ready to commit suicide, finds that he is rich beyond measure. Maybe not monetarily rich, but rich in a way that helps him to enjoy a wonder full life.
In this week’s e-news that I sent out, I linked to an article about a small Lutheran Church in Minnesota. They were down to 20 members and had enough money to carry them for 18 months when a new pastor arrived. He told them his first Sunday, “You’re dead.” Then he asked, “Now what you are going to do?” The members of the church decided if they were to die, they’d do it well, so they began to seek ways to love and care for those around them. They made no demands on those they helped. They offered to do whatever they could to help people in their neighborhood. At first, they only had a few offers. But they kept on and as they continued, they picked up volunteers. Many of these people were not religious, but they liked the idea of church being supportive of the community.[6] And while this church isn’t out of the woods yet, it has grown and is holding its own.
When we look beyond ourselves, we realize there are three things we can do with money.[7] We can spend it, we can save it, and we can give it away. Neither Paul nor Jesus condemned anyone for spending money on that which was needed or even on the finer things in life. God wants us to enjoy life. We’re not called to beat up on ourselves for enjoying life. Instead, we’re told in Ecclesiastes to enjoy ourselves and to take delight in that for which we’ve toiled.[8] As long as what we’re doing is wholesome, we should enjoy that which we receive from our spending and not feel guilty.
A second thing we can do with money is to save it. This, too, in and of itself, isn’t bad. We’re told in Proverbs that the wise save while the fool devours.[9] But we must remember the limitations of our nest-eggs. Our savings might make tomorrow or the next decade or our retirement easier, but it doesn’t have the ability to add a single day to our lives. So, while we should save, we shouldn’t worship that which we have saved. Our salvation is in Christ, not in our portfolios.
And finally, we can give it away. Again, over and over in Scripture we’re told how it is more blessed to give than receive and how sharing what we have with others is pleasing to God.[10] If for no other reason, we give because God has given to us.[11] Giving allows that image of God that’s in us shine as we strive to live in a manner that is more god-like.
Spending, saving, and giving. All are good, if done for the right reasons.
When we look out from ourselves, we should consider how we might make a difference with our money. Whether we can give large amounts or only a small amount, we need to see our giving as an investment in God’s kingdom. But we don’t do it only if we know we can make a difference, we do it because we know that our efforts will be joined with the giving of others and then that will be blessed by God’s Spirit. Giving is an act of faith. It’s like the message we heard from Dean Smith a few weeks ago, about how that annoying jingle of change in our pockets can be saved and when we add them with change from other pockets, we soon have enough to make a difference in the lives of the hungry. When the community comes together like this, we can make a difference in the world.
Next week is Consecration Sunday. We are asking for you to make an estimate of giving for 2020, to help the church do its budgeting. As you prepare yourself to make this estimate, I ask you to pray throughout the week for God to give you a vision. You can add this prayer to the prayer that you we’ve been asking you to make on behalf of the church. Ask God how you can make a difference in the world? Let us pray:
Almighty God, give us a vision of how we might partner with you, and with our brothers and sisters, to make a difference in the world. Amen.
©2019
[1] Contemporary English Bible translation
[2] Matthew 6:19.
[3] Matthew 6:20.
[4] John Calvin, Commentary on 1st Timothy, https://biblehub.com/commentaries/calvin/1_timothy/6.htm
[5] Augustine, Sermon 36.2 as quoted in the Ancient Christian Commentary on Scripture: New Testament IX (Downers’ Grove, IL: Intervarsity Press, 2000), 224.
[6] http://www.citypages.com/news/peace-lutheran-staved-off-death-by-taking-love-thy-neighbor-to-a-radical-extreme/563648921
[7] This idea comes from Maggie Kulyk with Liz McGeachy, Integrating Money and Meaning: Practivs for a Heart-Centered Life (chicorywealth.com, 2019). The authors spoke of four things you can do with money, adding “earning” to my list.
[8] Ecclesiastes 3:12-13.
[9] Proverbs 21:20
[10] Acts 20:35 and Hebrews 13:16
[11] Matthew 10:8
Barbara Tuchman, A Distant Mirror: The Calamitous 14th Century (New York: Knopf, 1978), 720 pages including notes and index. Some plates of photos and artwork.
The world, or at least Western Europe, seemed to be coming apart in the 1300s. England and France was involved in a 100-year war. Whenever they took a break in fighting, it was time to attack (crusade) the Muslin invaders who had invaded parts of Europe or Muslin pirates hindering shipping along the African coast. The Black Death kept reappearing. The nobles and noble want-a-be’s wore fashionable shoes, pointed and curly ends, that were condemned by the church. In England, the followers of Wycliffe provided a precursor to the Protestant Reformation (which would be another 2 centuries in the future). During this century, the population of Europe fell, mostly due to plague, but also from war. This had a dramatic impact on the economy. Without people to work the fields, forest took over farmland. Taxes to finance wars and to keep the nobility in luxury became a burden to everyone, especially to the lower class who paid a much higher rate of taxes than those with affluence. The Roman Catholic Church split. With both an Italian and a French pope, who excommunicated each other, people worried about their salvation (which was seen as coming through the Church) for no one knew which church was the right one. A lot happened in the 14th Century as Barbara Tuchman skillfully tells in this mammoth work. But, when you think of all that happened, it’s amazed that she can touch on so much of the events in 700 pages.
This was the age of the knights, although these warriors weren’t nearly as noble as we’re led to believe. Knights with their heavy armor, fighting it out on a battlefield, was the ultimate. When the English began to use commoners and arming them with longbows, it was seen by the French (who mostly was on the losing side of battles) as denying the knights their glory. It was also a shift in power, lifting commoners while demoting the power of the nobility. Instead of revising their tactics, the French started using heavier armor to protect them from arrows and made them even less mobile.
The key figure in this book is Sire de Coucy, a man who appeared to be almost as large as his huge fortified castle in Picardy. Coucy seemed to dominate all the great events of the second half of the century. Although he was not the king of France, he held more power and controlled more wealth. He was involved in many of the great battles and, at a time where military judgment was not a defining characteristic of the armies of France, he was one of their successful military leaders. During the last crusade, he was captured by the Turks and died in prison, awaiting ransom. Ransom was a part of war back then, as nobles were “sold” back to the country from which they came. Coucy had a modern vision of war that most of his French contemporaries refused to see.
This book reads well, but there are just too many names and dates and events to keep everything straight. Nonetheless, I enjoyed it and learned a lot about life in the premodern world.
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Edward Dolnick, A Clockwork Universe: Isaac Newton, the Royal Society and the Birth of the Modern World, 2012 (Audible 10 hours and 4 minutes).
I am not a math person, but I found myself listening to this book and wishing I could go back and study math once more. But then, Dolrick notes that most great mathematic discoveries are discovered by younger geniuses (especially before 25), so I realized that my math ship has sailed. Nevertheless, I enjoyed this book immensely. The mid-17th Century was a time of change as the world was moving into the modern area. But as exciting of a time it was for a few intellectuals, for most people it was a dreadful age. Filth and disease abound, as cities did not yet have sewers or safe drinking water. London, the location in which much of the book occurs, was ravaged by fire and famine. But there, within the Royal Society of Science, men began to ask questions and ponder new solutions. Some, at least to my mind, were crazy, but this drive to know more about God’s creation (and most of these men were religious) led to breakthroughs in mathematics and science, especially in the understanding of space. Calculus became the language for much of this understanding and the two men most responsible were Isaac Newton and Gottfried Leibniz—a Brit and German. The two appeared to have discovered it independently, but both insisted they were first. In the end, Newton had the best PR, but Leibniz wasn’t forgotten and was resurrected more recently as his binary system predated the development of the computer by three centuries.
This book has a lot in it. We meet many of the great men of the era who pushed math and science beyond the ancient Greek thinkers: Descartes, Kepler, Galileo, and Haley (who, in addition to discovering and predicting a comet’s path was the catalyst behind Newton publishing his thoughts). But the two main characters are Newton and Leibniz, who both admired and were jealous of the other. Their relationship forms a tension that holds the book together.
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John H. Leith, Assembly at Westminster: Reformed Theology in the Making (Atlanta: John Knox Press, 1973), 127 pages.
I first read the Westminster Confession of Faith as a high school student and have studied much of it throughout my adult life, but I have never read any detailed account of the assembly of “Westminster Divines” who wrote the work. In this short work, the late John Leith provides the background and the setting for the Assembly. The authors of the confession were living on the edge of the modern world, yet they had been raised in the medieval world. The politics of what was going on in England during the Puritan era, as well as what was happening on the continent played a great role in both the writing and influence of this work. After the restoration of the crown in England in 1660, the Confession would no longer play a role in English society, but due to the number of Scottish members of the Assembly, the confession would be adopted in Scotland and become the main confessional document for Presbyterians around the world. In this book, Leith covers the make-up of the Assembly, the political and theological context in which they worked, how they went about their tasks, the nature of confessions, and the key doctrines of the Westminster Confession. He also discusses the limits and fallibility of confessions. This is a good starting point for learning more about Westminster.
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Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
November 10, 2019
Matthew 6:19-24
Our morning passage comes from Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount. Jesus forces us to consider what we value. Ponder this. What would you grab if your house was on fire? Or, what would you pack if you had to flee, as a refugee or hurricane evacuee and could only take a suitcase? For some of us, our treasures are tangible things. An Arnold Palmer autograph, a trophy, a special putter, or a favorite Hawaiian shirt. For others, our treasures are in bank statements and stock certificates. Granted, most of us like to think we have more noble treasures—our families, our friends. But even with good treasures, a problem arises when they become the most important things in our lives. Then they began to control us and eventually will become our god, with a little g. Such a god will not satisfy our needs. Today, I encourage you to “look in” on what you value. Ask yourself what your life might look like if you spent more time storing treasures in heaven than on earth. Let’s hear what Jesus has to say. Read Matthew 6:19-24.
###
The trail, somewhere between northern VA and southern PA.
When hiking the Appalachian Trail through Pennsylvania, I stopped one night thinking I was going to get to spend an evening by myself. My plan was to get up early and catch some friends who were a day ahead of me. I was in the middle of fixing dinner when a family of four came trudging into the campsite. They were dead tired—they’d set out that day to hike ten or so miles and hadn’t even gotten half that distance. The man asked if I would mind if they camp there, as there was a spring for water nearby and plenty of room. “Not a problem,” I said, even though I wasn’t overly excited about the prospect.
Continuing with dinner, I kept glancing over at the family. They were quite amusing. It was like watching the backpacking version of a National Lampoon Vacation movie. The father even looked like Chevy Chase. They were obviously new at this and, making it even more humorous, they had not tried out their gear. I’ll give them credit, they had good gear. It was all new and shiny and never out of the package. The family appeared as if they stepped out of an L.L. Bean catalog. With my dirty and torn clothes and well used equipment, I looked a bit like a hobo. After a comedy of errors, they finally were able to pitch their tent. Then it was time to eat.
I could tell the dad was getting flustered. Finally, he came over and asked for my help. He had a top-of-the-line stove, the same one that I had, an MSR multi-fuel stove. This was the preferred backpacking stove for long distance hikers because it burned regular gas. You could fuel up at a gas station. While a good stove, it wasn’t the type of stove most folks had if they were just hiking for a weekend. Next, he had the top of the line cook set that all nestled together and included a windscreen in which you sat the stove. Knowing this, he left behind the simple windscreen that came with the stove. He was trying to put all this together, but there was one problem. The cook set was designed for a Sevier stove, not an MSR one. They didn’t go together. No matter how he tried, it wasn’t going to work. I told him to put away his windscreen and showed him how to set up some rocks upon which he could make a windscreen as he cooked. Soon, they were cooking dinner.
A friend with his possessions on his back. This was back in the 80s, before digital cameras, so I don’t have as many digital photos from which to select.
After they’d finished dinner and while his wife was putting their kids to bed, we talked. He was a physician. He’d hiked a few times with the Boy Scouts and now thought he’d like to get his family into it. He went to a backpacking store to get what he needed. I’m sure the guy selling gear had a nice dinner later that evening on the commission he made. Everything this family had with them, and they had way more than they needed, was first class (even if some of it wasn’t designed to work with other pieces of gear). And the sheer volume of their gear was overwhelming. He confided in me that they were probably going to hike back to their car in the morning instead of continuing down the trail, for there was no way they’d make the distance they’d planned.
Talking with this guy, I realized a couple of things that I jotted down in my journal. First, in the woods, it didn’t matter than he had the money to buy all this fancy gear. It didn’t do him any good. Then I realized that backpacking is a great equalizer. When you have too many treasures, it weighs you down. This guy was carrying nearly eighty pounds on his back, and his wife had another fifty. Each of their kids had a small knapsack. All this stuff was killing them. My pack weight was more like his wife’s and that was only when I was fully loaded with ten days of food, a liter of fuel, and two quarts of water. Thinking about this, I felt a bit of pride.
That me, the traditional photo taken on Mt. Katahdin in Maine at the end of the trail
Then I realized that I, too, was storing up treasures, in the form of memories and bragging rights. Idolatry is a sneaking temptation. I wanted to be able to say that I hiked the whole trail and at that time was roughly halfway to Maine, a goal that was an obsession. Likewise, what the man was doing by getting his family out into the woods was also noble. But ultimately, neither of us was what we’re to be mainly about. Hiking is okay, just as a lot of other things we enjoy are okay, provided they’re put into priority. God must come first. It’s not about what I can do. It’s about what God can do through me.
Jesus realized the danger of treasures. He knew “stuff” wouldn’t be able to satisfy us like a relationship with God. When it comes to stuff, be it money, the junk we collect, or accomplishments, it’s never enough. We will always want more. Supposedly John D. Rockefeller was asked how much more money he wanted. “Just a little more,” he said. If we try to satisfy our appetites with our treasures, we’ll always be hungry.
This passage is about us looking deeply and getting our priorities right. There are three connected proverbial thoughts here, which Jesus uses to encourage his listeners to evaluate their lives and to see where they are placing their trust. First, we’re not to trust worldly treasures for they have a way of disappearing. A fine wardrobe can be destroyed by moths, objects crafted out of metal can rust, and what’s to stop someone from stealing them when we’re not looking. Notice, however, Jesus doesn’t say that having nice things is bad. He just says we can’t trust them to always be there and that the problem with such niceties is that when we place too much trust in them, we risk not trusting God. Ultimately, our treasurers are going to fail us.
The second proverbial through is about a “healthy eye.” My father just had cataract surgery this week and was telling me on Friday about how bright the colors are now that his eye is healthier. But Jesus isn’t making a pitch for eye surgery. Jesus listeners would have known right away what he was talking about when he mentioned an unhealthy or evil eye. They understood that an evil eye referred to an envious, grudging or miserly spirit, while a good eye connotes a generous and compassionate attitude toward life. One of my professors from seminary, in his commentary on Matthew, says it’s as if Jesus’ says: “Just as a blind person’s life is darkened because of an eye malfunction, so the miser’s life is darkened by his failure to deal generously with others.”[1] Generosity brings light into the world; greed darkens the world.
The next statement by Jesus concerns serving two masters. A slave would be run ragged if he had to answer to two masters. Likewise, if we try to serve both God and money, we find ourselves with two masters and the latter, money, makes a harsh master. There can never be enough. We need to place our priorities in order. We need to stick with God.
But then again, as I said, Jesus never says that treasures in and of themselves are wrong. He never says that our desire to have treasure is wrong… We’re not Buddhists trying to remove all desire from our lives in search for enlightenment.[2] Instead, Jesus knows we have desires… So, he encourages us to put our desires into the right channels. “Strive to store treasures in heaven.”
It sounds too simple. “Store up your treasures in heaven; don’t worry about things here on earth.” Easier said than done, right? We all worry about having enough for tomorrow—and the day and the year and the decade that follows. We must admit that our prayers for daily bread seem unnecessary when we have a pantry full of food. When we have too much, it’s hard to depend upon God.
But Jesus wants us to trust in God, which is why we’re to store up treasures in heaven. Jesus, in this passage, teaches a good Reformed concept. On earth, we’re to be about doing the Father’s work. And when we do what God calls us to do, we’re storing our treasures in heaven. But when we forget about what God wants us to do and focus only on our wants and desires, we lose our way.
How might we learn not to store up our treasures here on earth? First, “Enjoy things, but don’t cherish them.” God created this world good and wants us to enjoy life and the blessings provided, but God gets angry when we see such blessings as being ours or being worthy of our worship. Second, “Share things joyfully, not reluctantly.” If it bugs you to share something you have with someone who needs it, you should then know that item has gotten a hold on you. It’s an earthly treasure, an idol. Finally, “Think as a pilgrim, not a settler.” “The world is not my home, I’m just passin’ thru,” the old gospel song goes.[3] Store your treasures at your destination, then your journey will then be easier.
Look inside yourself and use these thoughts to evaluate what you have: Enjoy, Share, and think like a pilgrim. A pilgrim is like a backpacker. Remember, you don’t want your pack to weigh you down. Amen.
[1] Douglas R. A. Hare, Matthew: Interpretation: A Biblical Commentary for Teaching and Preaching (Louisville, KY: JKP, 1993), 72.
[2] Frederick Dale Bruner, The Christbook: Matthew 1-12 (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2004), 321.
[3] Kirk Nowery, The Stewardship of Life (Camarillo, CA: Spire Resources, 2004), 122-123.
Not Guilty by C. Lee McKenzie
Published October 2019
This book grabbed my attention in the first chapter and kept me engaged throughout. I didn’t want to put it down, wanting to figure out how the protagonist, Devon, gets through his dilemma. A high school junior with the hope of playing college basketball, Devon is dumped by his girlfriend after someone falsely identifies his car parked on the street where his ex-girlfriend lived. That was a start of a bad day that only got worse. He skips his last class and went to the beach. On the way, he’s receives a ticket for speeding and then later, identified as the person who stabbed a local surfer on that afternoon. When he’s found guilty, he is sent to juvenile detention for five months and then is on probation afterwards. Along the way, he’s haunted by a basketball player from another town who he runs into in detention (and afterwards). In detention, he befriends several Hispanic youths who teach him what true friendship is all about. After he gets out of detention, he realizes things have gone downhill for his family (they suffered financial hardship because of his conviction). But in the end, everything works out as Devon helps put the pieces together that eventually lead to the arrest of the person who committed the assault. In a way, the Devon and his family fortunes have changed so that the book seems somewhat comic (in the classical sense). But Devon does learn what it means to work hard, to have true friends, and that although the justice system doesn’t always get it right, it often corrects itself.
This would be a great read for any teenager, especially for boys who have found themselves being wrongly accused by police (as I experienced nearly a half-century ago). Lee McKenzie should be congratulated for writing a book that addresses such issues.
I received a free electronic copy of this book for an honest review.
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
Matthew 22:15-22
October 27, 2019
Homecoming is a time to look back, and the sermon is titled “Looking Back.” But we don’t look back just to be nostalgic. Instead, we should look back to help us understand where we are and how we got here. Think about all the people who helped build this sanctuary and establish this church. We’re in debt to them, and hopefully the next generation will be in debt to us. But we also look back to see where we picked up burdens that influence us today. Which ones are good that we should continue carrying and which ones should we discard?
Today, we start a new worship series titled “A Wonder-Full Life.” Speaking of looking back, the title comes from the classic 1946 film, “It’s a Wonderful Life,” starring Jimmy Stewart and Donna Reed. We’re using this series as a lead-up to Consecration Sunday on November 24th, the day we make our faith promises to church for 2020.
The characters in “It’s a Wonderful Life” provide us with archetypes for the many different ways we relate to life and we handle money. The book that goes with this series, Integrating Money and Meaning, uses these archetypes to explore our spiritual relationship with money.[1] And the first task to become more spiritual is to look back and understand how we relate to money. In the movie, George Bailey plays the role of the martyr. He often does the right thing, always looking out for the needs of others, but he resents it. He slips into despair. As we heard earlier, to be discouraged is worst than being sick… He’s ready to end his life. Money can be a terrible master, which I think is a message we get from today’s text. By the way, if you’d like to read the book, let me know as we have a couple extra copies. In addition to reading the book, it would be good for us to be reminded what the movie is about, so we’re planning a pot-luck lunch and viewing of the movie on Wednesday, November 13.[2] I hope you join us.
Our Scripture for today comes from Matthew 22:5-22.
At our first forum on civility, Dr. Robert Pawlicki told of an incident when he was a psychiatrist and professor at a Medical School. A patient had gotten into an argument with a resident and he was called in by a nurse who was concerned the confrontation might become physical. Stepping between the two, he said to the patient, “You’re really angry, aren’t you?” By giving a name to what was happening and the emotions the patient showed, he opened a channel that helped the patient calm down. The situation de-escalated. This is good advice. Sometimes we need to go to the heart of the matter and, without increasing the confrontation, name the issue. But this is not what the Pharisees and the Herodians do in our morning text.
It’s hard to understand this passage without explanation. The Pharisees are plotting to entrap Jesus, we’re told. How does Jesus know this? We could say that because he’s God, but that explanation doesn’t uphold the human side of Jesus. Instead, I think Jesus knew something was up when he saw the Pharisees walking hand to hand with the supporters of Herod.
Who are these people? The Pharisees: They’re good, upright, outstanding Jews, the keepers of the Law. And they are not too happy with the Roman occupation of Palestine, but they deal with it. Right beside them are the Herodians, the supporters of the Herod family. This half-Jewish family had a foot in both camps: the Jews and the Romans. The Herodians accept the Romans. Possibly, they want to modernize Palestine, for the Herods were great builders. Herod the Great began rebuilding the Jewish temple. They built ports along the coast and even coliseums for the Roman games, along with temples for the Roman gods. It’s said that politics make strange bedfellows. None could be stranger than these two groups: devout Jews and those supporting the pagan Romans. The Herodians and the Pharisees together would be like Trump and Pelosi working together. If you see it, you know something may be askew. Jesus smells something fishy!
These two unlikely groups approach Jesus. They butter him up by telling Jesus he’s sincere, he speaks the truth, and that he’s impartial. Don’t you love it when someone you are not so sure about butters you up? Then they ask the 64-thousand-dollar question. “Tell me,” they ask Jesus, “Is it lawful to pay taxes to the emperor, or not?” A trap is set. If Jesus says we should not pay the taxes, then the Herodians could have him arrested for treason. And if he says to pay the taxes, the Pharisees can attack him for not being a patriotic Jew. It’s a clever trap!
Jesus asks to see a coin. He has to be careful here. He doesn’t want the Pharisee’s to charge him with toting around an engraved image of the emperor. So Jesus has them to look at a coin they are carrying, and he asks them whose picture is on it…. They reply, “Caesar’s.” Jesus then tells them to give Caesar what is Caesar’s, and to give God what is God’s. The little band of tempters are astonished. Amazed and not knowing what to say, they leave…
Amazed, but did they understand what Jesus said? They hear “Give unto Caesar what is Caesar’s,” but did they hear “Give unto God what is God’s.” Do they understand the implications? Do we?
The coin had an image on it, Caesar, therefore give it to him. But remember, we’re created by God, in the image of God. The coin belongs to Caesar, it has his image; our lives belong to God, they contain God’s image. Caesar may have a lien on our possessions, but God has a lien on our total being. God is calling us to dedicate our lives to himself. God, in Jesus Christ, is like those old recruiting posters found the post office, with Uncle Sam saying, “I want you.” And you, and you, and you (point at myself last).
Give to God what is God’s. We tend to get hung up on what is Caesar’s and what is ours. Let’s face it, none of us like paying taxes. They didn’t like it in the first century and we don’t like it now. But what about the giving to God part? Essentially, Jesus is saying that we’re to respect (and support) the state, but there is a limit to the state’s powers for they belong under God’s realm, and ultimately our allegiance belongs to God.[3]
If the Pharisees and Herodians really wanted to know what Jesus thought about paying taxes, they could have taken a clue from Dr. Pawlicki and admitted how uneasy it made them feel and then ask Jesus what he thought. But instead, they wanted to trick Jesus and the attempt failed.
What Jesus does here is demonstrate the delicate balance that exists in our use of money. Money is necessary. It’s what we trade for the necessities of life. But, as is taught in the book Integrating Money and Meaning, we need to understand the power of money. If we don’t understand its lure in our own lives, it can bring out the worst in us. There’s a shadow side to money that’s pointed out in scripture. “The love of money is the root of evil,” we read in the First Letter to Timothy.[4] It’s not that money, itself, is bad. Money is a tool, just like a hammer. A hammer can be used to build good things like houses, but it can also be used as a weapon. Remember the Beatles’ catching tune, “Maxwell’s Silver Hammer”? “Bang, bang, Maxwell’s silver hammer came down upon his head…” Likewise, as a tool, money can be used for good and for bad, which is why we need to spiritually discern how we relate to money. What do we spend our money on? Why do we want more of it? Will it really bring us security? Do we put our trust in God or what’s in the bank?
Over my next four Sunday’s (we will skip next week with a guest preacher), we’ll look at how we spiritually relate to money. How do we balance things like paying taxes, buying what we need, and giving to God through the church? How much control does money have in our lives? What would we do if we experienced a windfall of money? Or what would you we do if suddenly your money was of no value? These are questions we should all be wrestling with as we come to understand, as Jesus taught, that money isn’t anything to fear. We’re not to fear money, but we’re warned that it contains power. If not understood, money can overtake our lives and become a dreadful master. Look back in your lives and ponder this question, “How do you spiritually relate to money?” “What kind of power does it play in your lives?”
Friends, take care of your obligations. I think that’s what Jesus means when he says to give Caesar what belongs to him. But remember, Jesus also speaks about what we owe God. We’re to remember that we should have only one Master, and his name is Jesus. So, we take care of our obligations, but we must remember our first obligation, that we owe everything to God. Amen.
©2019
The background photo is of me looking at a sunset on a lake deep within the Quetico Wilderness Area in Western Ontario.
[1] Maggie Kulyk with Liz McGeachy, Integrating Money and Meaning: Practices for a Heart-Centered Life (Chicorywealth.com, 2019).
[2] The church is obtaining a video license to legally show this movie (which is required if it is shown outside a home audience).
[3] F. Dale Bruner, The Churchbook: Matthew 13-28 (Grand Rapids: MI: Eerdmans, 2004), 399-400.
[4] 1 Timothy 6:10.
From left: Archie Seabrook, Tim Cook, Jeff Hadley, Robert Pawlicki, and Jessica Savage
Last night, Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church held our first “Civility Forum.” The purpose of these forums is to help people communicate with those with whom they disagree and to be civil in their discourse. It was moderated by Jessica Savage, the 5 PM news anchor and investigative reporter for WTOC. She did a wonderful job keeping the conversation moving and the hour went by quickly. The panel included Dr. Robert Pawlicki, a retired psychologist and university professor; Chief Jeff Hadley of the Chatham Country Police Department; Tim Cook, director of Landing’s Security; and the Rev. Archie Seabrook, a 25 year chaplain for Hospice Savannah and a 7th Day Adventist pastor. Here are some highlights from the evening:
Pawlicki:
- “If we’re happy, we don’t act out as much. We act out because we take things personally.”
- Pawlicki told of a situation when he was teaching at University of West Virginia Medical School. A resident and a patient were arguing to the point of almost fighting. He stepped in and spoke to the patient, saying, “You are really angry.” This comment didn’t confront the patient or even deal with the issue, but by identifying with the patient’s emotions, it helped him de-escalate the situation.
- More people believe we live in a tribal society and as a result, we fear “others.” We see this played out on TV. We need to remember we can’t change another person’s point of view, but we have to listen and put in time to build a relationship.
- We can ask others why they believe the way they do, not to contest or argue, but to listen. This helps us build friends with people with whom we may not agree on many issues.
- Just because we don’t agree with someone doesn’t mean they are a bad person.
- We can’t control others, we can only control ourselves.
- Speaking about social media: Groups on social media seem to have more power. We should avoid jumping into groups, but if we do jump in, we should say something civil and not become part of the problem.
Hadley:
- The police are interventionist. We get called into conflicts. “But sometimes as in Ferguson, Missouri (and other places) we can also be a part of the problem.”
- It is easier to maintain our emotions if we’re closer to people and know them better. He described law enforcement as having an “arranged marriage” with a community. We must put in an effort every day (as in a marriage) to build a better relationship with the community. In making this point, he spoke about working with a Black Lives Matter organizer in Kalamazoo, Michigan and the trust that he and the department were able to build with those wanting to protest (and how the protest was carried out without anyone being arrested).
- Building on what Seabrook had said about African-Americans relationships to the police: “We have to remember that it wasn’t that long ago police were called to enforced unjust laws such as separate water fountains.”
- If we can engage in community in a positive way, making human contact before there is a problem, the badge and uniform melts away.
- “I tend to believe there are more good people than bad, but we get trapped into thinking otherwise because of all the rhetoric.” The news makes us more aware of it.
Cook:
- “My father said, ‘You can be a part of the problem, or a part of the solution.’ Since I wrote an article complaining about the lack of civility, I felt I needed to do more so I agreed to participate in this event.”
- Cook told about working as supervisor in the Greensboro NC jail. The officers who did the job were those who were willing to listen (even if they didn’t agree) with the prisoners.
- I’m not a friend of social media. It is too easy to get sucked into negativity.
- If we do get sucked into an argument, we should remember to fight fair.
- Four things we should do:
1. Set a standard for ourselves.
2. Model that standard.
3. Coach that standard in others
4. Hold ourselves to that standard. - If you ask questions of others, you show interest.
Seabrook:
- We deal with conflict all the time in hospice. It used to be that most of my time was spent in ministry, but now more time spent with arguments and attempts to de-escalate situations.
- Seabrook told about an African-American man at Memorial Hospital whose wife had died. The man was very upset and beating on the wall. Security was called by the nurse and when the man saw the uniformed security guard approach, he became both scared and angrier. As a chaplain, Seabrook had to intervene, asking the security officer to step away as he spoke to the man and calmed him down.
- A healthy death requires peace with God and family—hospice attempts to help the patient bring closure to both sides.
- I believe in more prayer.
- We’re to love our neighbors as ourselves. We should go to our neighbors and introduce ourselves and reach to people in our neighborhoods.
Click here to read my article, “Civil Discourse: Reviving a Lost Art” in The Skinnie (pages 20-24).
A high bluff along the western bank of the Lumber River just south of US 74, Pea Ridge is a lovely spot. We arrive early enough to enjoy it. For a wilderness site that is only accessible to the public from the water, this is near perfection. There are a few benches, a picnic table and a trash can and grass! Across the river stands several huge cypresses, their needles turning brown. Around us are a variety of trees. The bank of the river is lined with cypress and water birch. The site itself features sweet gum, maple, sycamore, pines and holly. I place my hammock between trees and find a mossy place to set up my tent so that I have a good view of the river. After setting up camp, I lie in my hammock resting and reading for an hour, then go for a swim before dinner.
This is our second night on the river. We’ve covered 14 or so miles after launching at Matthew Bluff bridge late yesterday morning. The first day was supposed to be easy for we knew it was going to take time to shuttle vehicles. Not wanting to leave a vehicle at a bridge for two days, Joe Washburn, the pastor of First Presbyterian in Whiteville agreed to help us with the shuttle. After we got everything ready and loaded in our boats, we slid them down the muddy bank into the river. My dad has his boat in the water first but falls into the water as he tries to enter his boat. The river drops off quickly. After fishing out his equipment and restowing it, we were soon on the way. The river around the Matthew Bluff bridge was trashed with beer and soda cans and household waste, as some people treat the area as a dump. Thankfully, after a couple turns, the river becomes more natural. We’d been warned when we presented the ranger with our float plans that the river had not been cleared of blow-down trees since Hurricane Florence. That was a year ago. Sadly, they’d just finished clearing the entire 100-mile waterway from on Drowning Creek and the Lumber River of down trees from Hurricane Matthew which occurred in 2016 a month before Florence struck. He told us to be aware that there would be some blow downs above Boardman (Highway 74). He was right. About a mile into our trip, we came across the first, a huge old oak that laid across the river. The water was deep and I pulled my kayak parallel to the log, slid out of the boat and straddled the log (as if I was riding a Clydesdale, pulled my boat over the log and tied it off and then helped my father get his boat across. Thankfully, there were no problems and we were soon on our way.
After crossing the Willouby Bridge, four or so miles down the river, we came to another blowdown where we had to get out and cut a path for our boats to make it through the branches of the down tree. Our first campsite, Buck Landing, was a mile or so south of the Willouby Bridge, on the east side. I kept wondering when the site was going to show up, as I saw few pine, trees that indicate high ground. This area was swampy and populated with cypress, tupelo, river birch and a few bay trees. But soon after wondering where the pines were, they appeared and right afterwards was the campsite.
my tent at Buck Landing
Like Pea Ridge, Buck Landing was also a wilderness/canoe-in site but with easier access by locals as the one trash can “over-runneth” with beer cans. I spent a good deal of time emptying the trash and crushing the beer cans so that they were all able to be contained within the provided can. Although I may be mistaken, I was pretty sure the no one had paddled the river with that many cases of beer. This site also had a small pavilion, which wasn’t needed due to the clear skies, but the supports made a good place to sling my hammock. As the site was on the eastern side of the river, we saw a nice sunset through the hardwood swamp on the other side. Shortly thereafter, a thin crescent of the new moon was visible. After a dinner of some MREs that my father had brought along, we both decided to avoid the mosquito battle and headed off to bed, listening to the owls hoot and the buzz of insects.
The next morning, I’m a little panicked. When I pulled out my glucose test meter (I am a diabetic) to check my blood sugar level, it wasn’t working. I wasn’t bothered too much until I made my way over to my boat and pulled out the small dry bag I always carry with me whether kayaking or sailing, in which I keep a backup meter. The battery was dead. As they are different kind of meters, I can’t change the battery from one to the other. I wasn’t sure what to do, but my father was more concerned than me as he’s never dealt with diabetes. I told him I thought I would be okay and hopefully I could get a new meter when we crossed US 74 at Boardman, later in the morning.
cutting our way through a blow-down so we can push the boats under
After breakfast of coffee, an orange, and oatmeal, we shoved off a little after 9 AM. It was to be a difficult morning. It takes two hours to cover just a few miles as we spend almost as much time in the water as in the boat as we pulled over, under, through, and around fallen trees. When we weren’t pulling ourselves through down trees, we enjoyed watching kingfishers dart up and down the river, and great blue herons led us downriver when we interrupt their hunting. I even saw a red tail hawk. Throughout the morning, I keep snacking, not wanting my blood sugar to drop. After two hours of exhausting work, we finally get to where the river opens up more. Then, maybe a mile from the bridge, we passed a fisherman who’d pushed a jon boat up the river with a small battery powered motor. Only then did we know we were done with blowdowns.
Going over a blow-down
At the wildlife boat ramp at US 74, I knew better than walking into the village of Boardman. It used to be a large town, back in the early 1900s when the area was heavily lumbered,but the only business left today is a gas station. I tried calling local pharmacies in Fairmont and Chadbourn, hoping to find one that delivered. Unfortunately, as it was now noon, all their delivery drivers had gone out to make their daily runs. They laughed when I asked about Uber or Lyft. But, while I was waiting, with my meter out in the sun, it began working again, which made me pretty sure it was a problem with humidity. Being able to see that my blood sugar was in a good range, we continued paddling another mile to Pea Ridge campsite.
For being in his 80s, my dad did well on this trip!
Notice the grass around the fire pit
That night, we built a fire and talk. For some reason, my dad asked me about which of his guns I want him to leave me. While I have guns (all of which are in need of being oiled because they haven’t been shot in decades), I’m not a gun collector. All my guns stay locked up in a gun safe. But I told him I’d take the 30-30 Winchester lever action in case I move back out west. He suggests instead taking a higher powered gun, but I told him the Winchester was enough. Then he asks about shotguns and I was surprised to learn that he has a 20 gauge double barrel coachman (short barrel gun that those who rode “shotgun” on stagecoaches carried). What are you doing with that? I ask. “It’s your moms.” “What?” Then I learn the story. They were visiting my great aunt who, after my father’s uncle had died. She lived by herself out in the country. My mother asked if she wasn’t scared living out there. She said no, and showed my mother the gun. My mom, who I am sure was trying to be nice or trying to make a joke, said “maybe that’s what I need.” Well, lets just say, “I don’t think her next birthday went over well.”
Pea Ridge Campsite launch
After crawling into bed, I have a great view of Cassiopeia, Pegasus, and Andromeda, rising over eastern bank of the river. I fall quickly asleep and wake up once before morning. Taurus is overhead and Orion is rising just behind him. It must be well after midnight, but I don’t check the time and when I wake up again, it’s dawn. I get up, write a bit, then prepare coffee and water for oatmeal.
timbers left over from an old logging railroad
not what I thought Paradise would look like…
Queen Anne Landing
We’re on the river at 9 AM. It’d been cleared from here on down to our takeout point at the State Park at Queen Anne’s Landing. It was an easy 9 ½ miles. Down trees are not a problem, but at one place there’s a sandbar that runs across the river and we end up getting out of our boats and pulling them across it. After a lazy float, we arrive at the landing a little after noon.
The Lumber River is located in Southeastern North Carolina. The river starts north of Laurinburg, as Drowning Creek and wanders 115 miles as it passes the city of Lumberton and the town of Fair Bluff on its way to merge with the Pee Dee RIver a few miles into South Carolina. The state of North Carolina maintains a linear park along the river from the 15-501 bridge to Fair Bluff. In 2016, Hurricane Matthew dropped so much water into the river basin that much of Lumberton and Fair Bluff were below water. I used to work this area back in the early 80s for the Boy Scouts of America. At the time, Fair Bluff was a delightful small town. Today, the town is mostly deserted. To learn more about the river, check out the Lumber River State Park website.
that’s me (a selfie)
Beverly Willett, Disassembly Required: A Memoir of Midlife Resurrection (New York: Post Hill Press, 2019), 269 pages.
The framework of this story is rather simple. The author sells her home in Brooklyn, New York and moves to Savannah, Georgia. But we quickly learn that this was not an easy decision. Willett had placed so much hope in the brownstone house she’d sold. It was her nest where she raised her children. But eventually, she would be the only one living there. Her husband had abandoned her for another woman, and the house held the memories of when she had learned of his betrayal. The house also held the memories of her daughters, but once the last had started college, the big house was lonely and too much to maintain. Knowing the difficulty to keep the house and feeling she needed a new start, Willett decided to sell. Once that decision is made, there is much to be done as the reader learns about hoarding and the decisions to be made about saving and storing stuff, along with our reluctance to let go of stuff. Then there’s the work to be done to prepare the house for market, the real estate listing, the waiting, and finally selling of the home so the author heads south.
This story is more than just what is required to sell a house. It’s a spiritual journey as the author struggles to come to term with her relationship to stuff. The house is part of her, as is all the stuff that is in it. Likewise, the people around her (like here) are changing. Willett, who grew up a Southern Baptist who had married a secular Jew, discusses the role her faith plays as she comes to depend on it more and more as she becomes more active within an Episcopal congregation while also spending time learning the wisdom and mediation practices of Buddhism. The reader will identity with Willett as she makes this transformation that eventually leads her to her new life in Savannah and perhaps learn for her new wisdom. I recommend this book to all readers. I expect those going through difficult mid-life changes would find this book helpful and encouraging.
I am a friend of Beverly Willett and have been in a writing group with her that meets at Flannery O’Conner’s childhood home in Savannah since 2015. I purchased the book and did not receive compensation in exchange of writing this book review.
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
Jeremiah 8:18-9:3
October 13, 2019
I’d ridden my bicycle down to the marina to meet with some friends late Friday. It was after dark when I left. With a rather bright LED light on my handlebars, I wasn’t worried. But about halfway home something flew into my right ear. The bug dug down deep and as it fluttered its wings. I stopped. I’d always thought the saying, “a bug in your ear,” was a metaphor. Now I was shaking my head and pounding it, in an attempt to free the bug. I was going insane. I rode on home and about every 15 seconds the insect would have saved enough energy to flutter again for a few seconds. Coming into the house, I called out that I needed help. Donna, after checking with the Mayo Clinic website, warmed up some oil and poured it into my ear. It was supposed to flush the bug out, but it never came out. Eventually the bug stopped fluttering. I assumed it drowned. Yesterday morning (which is why I wasn’t in Bible Study), I went to urgent care. They were able to remove the bug. It was a big bug and counting its antenna was over an inch long. That may not sound big until you consider the size of your ear canal.
As a good Calvinist, I’m glad that’s over. That constant fluttering drove me crazy. It forced me into action. I felt a bit like those in Jerusalem did about Jeremiah. This man with his rants drove them crazy, only they didn’t heed his words. But, unlike that bug, Jeremiah had an important message to share.
Today we continue our walk through the book of Jeremiah in our series titled “Prophecies and Pottery.” Listen carefully to our text, for we’ll hear the line of scripture from where the familiar spiritual that we just sang, “There is a Balm in Gilead” comes. The unknown writer of this spiritual answers a question that Jeremiah asks, “Is there no balm in Gilead?” Yes, the Spiritual answer, there is balm and it’s found in the work of the Holy Spirit and the sacrifice of Jesus Christ. This song gives hope to people who had little hope.
Professor James Cone, writing about the African American musical tradition, said that spirituals do not deny history. They don’t deny that there’s a lot wrong in our world. Instead, spirituals see history leading toward divine fulfillment.[1] Or, as Martin Luther King was fond of saying, the arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice.
Our faith does not automatically replace all that’s wrong in our lives or our world. Instead, it’s a hope that is ground in the goodness of the Almighty who, in time, will make all things right. Many of us have had to deal with disappointment. Jeremiah is a poet for such a time. Jeremiah reminds us that sometimes it takes tough love for us to be molded and fired into a vessel that’s useful. Let’s listen to God’s word to us today: Jeremiah 8:18-9:3.
Let’s imagine ourselves in the 6th Century before the Common Era and join Jeremiah. Having left the city, the prophet walks alone, across what should be a grain field. With each step he kicks up dust. The immature stalks of grain, long dried under the desert sun, crunch under his feet. This should be the time of the harvest, but there are no men out swinging sickles nor women gathering sheaves. The grapes and the figs and the olives area also shrivel on the vine. The harvest has failed. There’s going to be hunger. And with Nebuchadnezzar’s army on the loose, there won’t be a chance to trade for food. Jeremiah’s heart is heavy. As he looks back toward the walls of the city, he cries. He images the bloated bellies of the young and the riots when there is no more bread in the market.
The sentry assigned to the tower on the West Wall had just come on duty as Jeremiah left the city. He follows the dust of the prophet. Squinting under the hot sun, he notices Jeremiah’s glance back at the city. “What a crazy man,” he thinks, as he wipes the sweat beading up on his forehead. “It’s good he’s gone.” Unlike Jeremiah, the sentry feels secure behind the strong walls surrounding the city. Yes, he worries about the drought, but the religious leaders have things under control. “Don’t they?” “The gods will provide, won’t they?”
Kicking the barren ground, Jeremiah recalls the promise of the harvest. All the work that went into it, was the plowing and sowing were all in vain? Dust is the only crop that’s in abundance and Jeremiah tastes it with every step. He continues walking. When the city’s walls are finally out of sight, he rips his robe, falls to his knees, beats his chest, and cries out to the heavens. “The harvest is past, the summer is over, and we are not saved.”
“We are not saved.” What painful words. It’s tough being a prophet, bearing the burdens of a people. Yet, as he cries, he hears something. A voice? Can it be God’s voice? “I’m disappointed. Why have they provoked me to anger with their images and foreign idols?” Yes, it’s God, speaking judgment on the Hebrew people.
It must have been in late August or September when Jeremiah issued the prophecy. In Israel, the grain would have been harvested in late spring or early summer. If that failed, there was still hope for in July and August, the grapes, figs and olives were harvested. If that, too, failed, the people were in a pickle, for there would not be a chance for another harvest until the next spring.[2] “The summer is over, and we’re not saved,” implies the hopelessness of Jerusalem.
Our passage shows us how Jeremiah’s emotions are tied up with God. His joy is gone. He is in grief, as is God who we are shown grieving as a spurned spouse might grieve upon the divorce. Ezekiel, who was a contemporary of Jeremiah, has a vision of God leaving Jerusalem and allowing the Hebrew people to reap the fruits of their idolatry.[3] Essentially this is what Jeremiah envisioned. God has become so flustered with his people, that God abandons them. What we see here is a harsh example of tough love.
Jesus told those in the synagogue in Nazareth that a prophet is never accepted in his hometown.[4] Certainly, this was the case with Jeremiah, who cried bowls of tears as his people not only continued to ignore God, they also abused him. At the beginning of chapter 9, he wishes that his head was filled with water and that his eyes were a fountain for he could cry day and night. What an image of a prophet who loved his people and who, yet, feels so helpless.
During his life, Jeremiah was considered a traitor. He challenged the king, the ruling authorities, the priests, and the military leaders. He was a thorn in their side, always speaking out for justice and for true worship of the one true God. In Scripture, we are not told what happened to Jeremiah, except that he was taken to Egypt with some who escaped there after the fall of Jerusalem.[5] One legend has it that Jeremiah kept on with his prophecies and rants and finally people had enough, like I did with that bug, and they stoned him.[6]
While Jeremiah was considered a traitor in his life, looking back we cannot help but to see that he was a true patriot. God’s people are not called to be loyal to a king or even to a nation. Our first loyalty always belongs to God and when we fail to put God first, we risk hardship, judgment, and perhaps even defeat. Do we have the faith and the perseverance of Jeremiah? Are their Jeremiahs in our society today? If so, do we listen? Or do we tune him or her out, or worse, mock and abuse?
You know, on the 22nd, we’re going to have our first community forum to discuss civility. If we want to build a better society, which is one of the goals of the church as we are to be a part of building God’s kingdom, we must listen to others. I hope you plan to attend and to tell others about the forum. Go to our church’s Facebook page and like the event and share it with others on your page. We have got to get our community and our nation on a new direction. We need to be about listening to all voices, even the voice of a Jeremiah, crying a fountain of tears. Only by listening to others who challenge us, like Jeremiah challenged Jerusalem, will we be able to build a better society.
Let’s go back to that day, some 2500 years ago, and join Jeremiah once more… The heat of the day is over when Jeremiah starts back toward the city. Having wrestled with God through lament, Jeremiah is more assured than ever of God. Ahead, the city David claimed his capital, is magnificently lighted by the setting sun. As the even breeze picks up, Jeremiah picks up his pace.
The sentry, near the end of his shift, can’t believe his eyes. Emerging from a cloud of dust he’s been watching on the horizon is the prophet. He’s coming back. Why? He’d expected Jeremiah to have fled to another land. But as much as Jeremiah wants to, he cannot abandon his people. They may lack faith. They may be adulterers and traitors and idolaters, but they are still his people. And they are still God’s people. And he’s God’s prophet.
Jeremiah’s presence in a decaying society reminds Jerusalem of God’s judgment. Although the Almighty is disappointed and deeply hurt by his people’s idolatry, God never forgets Israel. God’s faithfulness once saw the nation through slavery. God will see them through defeat and exile and eventually restoration.
Jeremiah’s beat by the time he reaches the wall. The sun has set, and the stars are popping out. The air is more humid. “There will be dew in the morning,” the sentry remarks as he allows Jeremiah to enter through the locked gate. “Yes, Yes, I think you’re right,” Jeremiah responds. “The dew will be welcomed. It will remind us of how Almighty God, the God of Abraham, faithfully fed our ancestors in the wilderness.” Amen.
If any would like to be anointed with oil, as a reminder of our faith in Jesus Christ, come forward during the closing hymn and Elder Laurel McKeith or I will be glad to make the sign of the cross on your forehead.
©2019
[1] James Cone, The Spirituals and the Blues (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 1972), 86 as quoted by LindaJo H. McKim, The Presbyterian Hymnal Companion, (Louisville: W/JKP, 1993), 393.
[2] J. A. Thompson, The Book of Jeremiah: The New International Commentary on the Old Testament (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1980), 306, n. 9.
[3] Ezekiel 10. While Jeremiah and Ezekiel are contemporaries, their ministry was to different groups of God’s people. While Jeremiah remained in Jerusalem, Ezekiel was called to be a prophet to the first wave of those exiled in Babylon.
[4] Luke 4:24.
[5] Jeremiah 43.
[6] Frederick Buechner, Peculiar Treasures: A Biblical Who’s Who (San Francisco: Harper and Row, 1979), 61.
Ben Sasse, Them: Why We Hate Each Other and How to Heal (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 2018), 272 pages including notes and an index.
One would need to be deaf and blind not to realize there are serious problems in American society. Instead of rationally discussing issues that divide us, we join polarized camps and dismiss those with whom we disagree. We use unflattering names or spread false rumors about those we see as opponents. Instead of debating topics of concern, we yell at those with different views. It’s as if we believe that the one who yells loudest is right, which is absurd. Instead of looking for common ground upon which we might build a relationship, we use perceived differences to Balkanize ourselves into camps of like-minded people. And when we are only around those who look, think, and act like us, we just confirm our preconceived biases. And there is no doubt that 24-hour cable news and the algorithms of social media have only strengthened this divide. We no longer watch the same news programs and entertainment, nor read the same authors and newspapers. Instead, with a world flooded with information, everything comes tailored for us as individuals. This whole system, according to Sasse, makes us very lonely.
I was a little shocked when I began reading this book on how divided America is to read Sasse’s critique of America culture and how our problems stems from loneliness. I did wonder if he makes more out of the problem of loneliness than it deserves. He also suggests that the decline of the traditional home as another reason for society’s problems. I hope his ideas are debated. Perhaps they can play a role in building a more civil society. That said, there are critiques he makes that will make everyone a little uncomfortable. He challenges an article that identifies the genesis of nasty politics from the 1994 election and Newt Gingrich. Sasse suggests that Gingrich was only a backlash of nasty politics of the Democrats against the Robert Bork nomination to the Supreme Court in 1986. (Personally, I’m old enough to think the issue goes back further than 1994 or 1986). But those on the right can’t rejoice, for in the next chapter, he challenges Fox News and suggests they profit greatly from monetizing the fear. He particularly attacks Sean Hannity for not only preying on this fear and inciting rage, but also ignoring any evidence he finds inconvenient. By the time most readers with die-hard political positions, whether on the right or left, have finished the first half of the book, they’ll have found cherished positions challenged. Sadly, many will probably skip the second half of the book where Sasse suggests strategies for building bridges instead of walls.
Sasse grew up in a small town in Nebraska. It was a place with strong rivalries between towns and sports played a major part of these rivalries. He idolatrizes his father, who was a coach. He obviously grew up in a traditional family. Sasse, himself, attended college on a wrestling scholarship. He would later earn a Ph.D. at Yale in American history and became the president of a small Midwestern liberal arts college. He also comes from a strong Lutheran Church background. His experiences with small towns, family, sports, religion, and education come together in this book as he seeks a way to bridge in the impasse that exists within American society.
Sasse’s eureka moment of his childhood came when he attended a Nebraska football game. There he was in the big house in the prairie, with 100,000 other folks, all in red, cheering on the cornhuskers. A few rows a way he spotted a group of people from a neighboring town that was a big rival of his town. These were folks his town cheered to their demise at Friday night football games, yet here they were, enemies, cheering on Nebraska. The problem caused by isolation (and loneliness) when we maintain isolation is that we fail to realize that we often have a lot in common with those we see as “them.” He learned from an early age that these folks from a rival school district weren’t really enemies. However, Sasse doesn’t suggest we end rivalries, for competition helps us be our best.
In the second half of this book, Sasse lays out several ideas on how we can begin to break down the walls separating us from them. In his first chapter in this half, titled “Become Americans Again,” Sasse provides a civics lesson about what should unite us. I found it refreshing to read a Lutheran who can write like a Calvinist as he calls for us to admit our that we’re all flawed. He encourages us to set limits on our (and our children’s) use of technology, to be more open to diverse debate within the university (an idea, he points out, that he and Obama agree on), and to develop roots while also exploring outside our own tribe. While most readers won’t agree 100% with the author (and I assume that would be fine with Sasse), Americans would be better off we seriously debated his thesis as we seek to breakdown the divides that separate us. This is a good book for all Americans to read (and maybe even those in Russia or China to read to learn more about what America should look like).
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
Jeremiah 4:5-31
October 6, 2019
We’re back working through sections of Jeremiah in our series titled Prophecies and Pottery. And we’re moving backwards in Jeremiah. Two Sundays ago, we looked at what is probably the most popular passage in book, from the 18th chapter, Jeremiah in the potter’s house. If you remember, there was hope that Israel would repent and change her ways. But in this passage, in the fourth chapter, there is little hope. One of the overall themes of Jeremiah is survival.[1] How do God’s people survive when there is a collapse of the nation and religion? How do you survive when everything is lost?
Theologically, Jeremiah’s task is to defend God in the face of catastrophe.[2] The people have not trusted in God. They have placed their trust in other gods. They have sought out political alliances to save them. They’ve turned everywhere except to their God. Because of their insolence toward the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, the book is rather grim. God’s people are like broken shards.
Beautiful pottery breaks. Today, during the sermon, hold on to the shard you’ve been given, and ponder God’s judgment. Think about what it means to be broken, unfixable. But don’t throw away the shard. When the service is over, take it over to Liston hall, where we’ll attempt to put it back together and see what kind of design Sue Jones created for us.
Let me say a little more about Jeremiah. The book is not laid out chronologically. The timeline seems to jump back and forth. Was this because the scrolls got mixed up at one point? Or, were they assembled this way for a reason? We don’t know. But it’s clear that while in the potter’s house, as we saw two weeks ago, there was still hope for God’s people. There is much less hope in this passage. Storm clouds are building. Today, I’m reading a just a selection of a larger passage that begin with the 5th verse in chapter 4 and runs to the end of the chapter. I encourage you to read the passage in its entirety, but I will only read verses 11-12, and 22-28. 
(choir members sing first verse and refrain of Ghost Riders in the Sky)
For the people of Jeremiah’s day, storm clouds are gathering. It’s not looking good. It’s kind of like that vision we get from the song “Ghost Riders in the Sky,” those wayward cowpokes who are eternally damned to chase the Devil’s herd. Storm clouds are always frightening. But let’s think about ourselves.
You know, we have blessed as a nation in that no foreign army has invaded us for over 200 years. The last was during the War of 1812. It’s been a century and a half since those of us who are from the South experienced the horrors of having towns and cities burned, armies destroyed, and people suffering. We can only image what it was like for the people in Savannah during that Civil War, hearing the distant bombardments of Fort Pulaski and Fort MaAllister, and then, in 1864, the rumors building fear as Sherman’s army approaches.
In this section of Jeremiah, the approaching Babylonian army is described as a hot wind blowing up a frightful dust cloud off the desert. This could be like the dust clouds off Africa that eventually turn into hurricanes that threaten our coastline. In the part I skipped, we hear how the rumors begin to filter down to Judah and Jerusalem, starting way to the north, above the Sea of Galilee, in the territories of Dan. We know a similar drill with hurricanes as they approach the Leeward Island and the Lesser Antilles and the Puerto Rico, Dominican Republic, Cuba, and the Bahamas as the storm makes its way across the South Atlantic. Sometimes these storms are like Jeremiah’s vision, bringing total destruction. Just as we hurt seeing the damage Dorian caused the Bahamas, we also worry what might happen to us if the storm doesn’t turn, Jeremiah is bothered by his vision. He can see it happening and cries out in anguish. But despite the heartache of what he sees, he faithfully proclaims God’s word.
The second part of my reading describes the aftermath. Destruction is total. Starting with verse 23, the poem recalls the “dismantling of creation.”[3] The land is depopulated and void and without light. There is little hope in this passage for judgment is total… well, almost total. At the end of verse 27, we get a glimpse of hope. After God promises to make the land desolate, we read that God “will not make a full end.” In other words, a remnant will survive. God will continue to have a few to survive, after all they are God’s chosen people, in order to re-populate the land. So, there is hope, just not much. And everyone, including Jeremiah, will suffer.
For Christians living in America, we may have a hard time relating to Jeremiah’s vision. But many Christians, those living around the globe in places where it’s dangerous to worship Jesus, recognize Jeremiah’s anguish as their own. For them, gathered around this table on World Communion Sunday, they are in danger. They know what it means to worship in fear, to experience the loss of jobs, of their homes and their land because of their faith. They know what it means to be locked up, to be tortured, and to watch loved ones be taken away and never return because of their faith. Christians are suffering in China, in Eritrea, in North Korea, in Iran and Iraq, in Syria and parts of India. We must stand by those who do not enjoy the freedom to worship as we enjoy it.
We must also realize as bad as life gets on earth, there is always hope. It may be just a glimpse. Jeremiah’s vision of destruction was so troubling that it affected him physically.[4] He knew what was coming was terrible, yet he never gave up on God. For as bad as things were get, he trusted that God was present and, eventually, things would change for the better.
Remember, we have an insight Jeremiah didn’t have. We know about the resurrection, how the grave is not the end. Jeremiah knew that somehow God’s destruction wasn’t going to quite be total. We know that even if it appears total, as it does at death, as when we peer down into the grave, God is still God and the end is not the end.
Yesterday I did the funeral for Gerry Baumgardner. We heard about how Gerry was a reader and instilled her love for books into her children and grandchildren. I’m not sure she read horror, and I’ve only read a few such books. But when you read a good horror book, you are excited to finish and find out what’s happens, but you also don’t want it to end. But it must end. Sooner or later we have must put it down and be done with it. In a way, life is like that, except that when it’s over, God is waiting with a sequel. But, unlike with a horror book, the sequel will be beautiful.
The center of the gospel is the hope we have in the resurrection to eternal life. And for that reason, we can face those storm clouds. We can face the stampede of Satan’s herd and the cowboys running roughshod across the skies, and know that as bad as things are, there’s hope. We may feel like we’re just broken shards of pottery, but God has the power to make what’s broken new and whole. Believe in God. Hold on to such hope. Amen.
©2019
[1] Kathleen M. O’Conner, “Jeremiah Introduction” in the New Interpreter’s Study Bible (NRSV with Apocrypha) Nashville: Abingdon, 2003), 1051.
[2] Ibid, 1052.
[3] Walter Brueggeman, To Pluck Up, To Tear Down: Jeremiah 1-25, (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, International Theological Commentary, 1988), 56.
[4] Verse 19, which is translated in the NRSV as “My anguish, my anguish! I write in pain!” is an attempt to capture the vivid description of the Hebrew in which Jeremiah cries of pain in his bowels. See J. A. Thompson, NICOT: The Book of Jeremiah, (Grands Rapids: Eerdmans, 1980), 227-228.
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
September 22, 2019
Jeremiah 18:1-12
How many of you have a cabinet at home filled with Tupperware and other such plastic containers? (Raise your hands. Be honest). If your home is like mine, there are a variety of plastic stuff of all sizes. When it comes time to save left-overs, or to pack a lunch for the office, I can always find the size I need. Of course, I then struggle to find the matching lid, but that’s another story. Ponder for a moment what would our lives be like without such containers? How would we get by? Now let’s go back 2500 years.
You might be wondering about all this emphasis on pottery as we look at the Prophet Jeremiah. Pottery was a revolutionary technology in the ancient world. It allowed more movement as people could store things in pots, such as water and grain.[1] It provided a better way for cooking. No longer did our ancestors have to roast things over a fire like cavemen. They could make something tasty, adding herbs and spices and making broth. The pottery revolution was one of the great steps in human history that devolved to Tupperware. It allowed our ancestors to settle down. No longer did they have to wander from one source of water and food to another. They could stop and build cities. The potter played an important role in the ancient world. God often uses examples from everyday life to make a point, and with Jeremiah, it was the potter and his work. This morning, we’re visiting the potter’s house. Read Jeremiah 18:1-12.
Show Video of Lee Hyong-Gu, Ceramic Master https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RxpyG6ClIDU (3 minutes 20 seconds)
I love watching a potter shape clay. Don’t you?
About twenty-five miles northwest of where I was born, where the Carolina Sandhills turn into clay hills, is a dot on the map known as Jugtown. It’s a place I like to visit when I am back in that part of the world. Today, the area around Jugtown and Seagrove is dotted with crafty potters who turn muck into beautiful and useful art. It’s a treat, as we’ve just seen on the video, to watch a potter turn a lump of clay on the wheel into something useful and beautiful.
Jugtown received its name, as you can guess, from jugs. The law-abiding folks in the clay hills around there, I’m sure, intended their jugs to store molasses, honey, cane syrup, or something similar. Of course, it was also used to hold liquefied corn (also known as white lightning or moonshine). But with the advent of mason jars, such use of the jugs ceased. But early on, some of the potters had new ideas. In 1917, two of the potters began selling their wares in a store and tea shop in New York City. They emphasized utilitarian pots, things that could be used such as pie plates, crocks, mugs, and bowls. They stamped their unique mark on the bottom of each vessel. Over time, they began to teach new potters the craft and as one generation passed, another took up the wheel. Today, if you go to the area around Jugtown, you’ll find dozens or potters selling their wares. These artists have brought new life into that worthless clay that sticks to your shoes and gums up a plow.
Finding a new purpose is sometimes helpful, and it could make a good moral of this story. But is it really what this passage is about? We need to remember that we’re not the potter, we’re the clay. Our purpose comes from the potter. And while, as this passage shows, the potter wields power over the clay, the clay might not always be suitable. If that’s the case, the potter starts over and creates something that works with the quality of the clay he has. In this passage we see God’s sovereign control, as a new type of pot is created. God’s in control, a fact we’re not always comfortable with.
Jeremiah is called to the potter’s house where God uses a common image of the ancient world to make a profound message. God’s word comes to him as he watches the potter over and over start off one direction with clay, and it not working, so he reworks the clay into something more suitable. This sounds hopeful. God will continue to work with us until we become a vessel that serves some purpose. One preacher, writing about this text, said that it demonstrates a sovereign God, “not a God of absolute capricious control, but a gracious willingness to change his plan to benefit his flawed people. When God discovers this fatal flaw in his people, he does not simply destroy them; he offers to start over.” [2]
But there’s a tension in the text that comes in verses 7-11. To make this passage to be only hopeful, we must cut the passage short and stop at verse 6. But that’s not fair to the text. Yes, there is hope in this passage, but the hope is offered to a repentant people who heed the warning that comes at the end of the passage. If they don’t heed the warning, the hope evaporates.
Jeremiah’s task is to preach impending judgment to God’s people. If they don’t shape up, if they don’t stop running around chasing foreign gods and idols, if they act like they’re in control and the God of the Universe is of no matter, they will be punished. Just as the potter can shape a vessel in a new way, they can be handled in a different manner. God can shape another nation to punish. There appears to still time, at this point, for the Hebrew people to change. Later prophecies of Jeremiah hold out no hope of repentance, but here, it’s not too late.[3] But time’s wasting. If they don’t hurry up and repent, it’ll be too late. And as we see in verse 12, the people don’t take Jeremiah’s words seriously. They follow their own plans and act in their own ways. God is not amused.
The message of this passage is that God has the power to reshape us, but we must let God work with us. If we resist God’s shaping, we may not be completely crushed, but we won’t fulfill the potential for which we were designed. The intention of our passage isn’t to be fatalistic and say we have no control. Instead, it’s a warning that we’re to work with God and not against him.
We often look at Scripture through our individualistic lens, and there’s no doubt that God has control over us as individuals, but it’s important for us to understand that this passage isn’t about a person, but about a people. God’s people. Today, we could apply this passage to the church. Those of us in mainline denominations often feel the church is being pulling apart. But using this analogy, we can see that perhaps the church is just being reshaped. If that’s the case, we need to look beyond our own perceived needs within the church, and to look where God needs the church within the world. That’s the hard task the Session has before it. It’s not what we can do to please the most people, but what we should be doing to join in God’s work.
When you leave this sanctuary today, ponder these questions: Where is God at work in the world? How can we participate? How can we be the clay that trusts the potter? Amen.
©2019
[1] Eugene H. Peterson, Run with the Horses: The Quest for Life at Its Best, (Downers Grove, IL: Intervarsity Press, 1983), 76-77.
[2] Stan Mast, Old Testament Lectionary for September 2, 2019: Jeremiah 18:1-11” published by the Center for Excellence in Preaching: https://cep.calvinseminary.edu/sermon-starters/proper-18c-2/?type=old_testament_lectionary
[3] John Bright, The Anchor Bible: Jeremiah (New York: Doubleday, 1965), 124-125.
Moonglow at Cumberland Falls
It’s been a while since I had a post on my activities, so I decided I’d do a full moon to full moon post. The August full moon occured on the 15th, and I was at Cumberland Falls, Kentucky. It was a clear night and those who came out to the falls an hour or so after the moonrise, were treated with seeing a “moonbow.” It’s just like a rainbow, except it is more whitish, appearing a little like a ghost of a rainbow. The moonbow occurs in the spray from the falls, which also creates a lovely rainbow in daytime, as you can see from the two photos I’ve posted.
Rainbow the next morning
From one of the historical markers around the site, I learned that the Cumberland River was named by Dr. Walker, an early explorer in the area. According to him, the river was the crookedest he’d seen, so he named it after the Duke of Cumberland because it reminded the explorer of the Duke.
Leaving Cumberland Falls, we headed toward Cumberland Gap. It was about lunch time when we hit Corbin and we decided to have lunch at Colonel Sander’s place. The original restaurant and hotel was torn down, but they rebuilt a Kentucky Fried Chicken on the site many years ago. In addition to the children and biscuits, three was a small museum showing how it was back in the 30’s. It’s also a major stop on the old Nashville and Louisville Railroad, so I had time to watch a few trains.
At Cumberland Gap, we rode the bike/horse part of the Wilderness Road. We needed Daniel Boone, for it was rough with several down trees. Also, after a long downhill run, we crossed a small bridge and at the other end, a horse had relieved himself. It took some maneuvering to miss that pile of crap! We enjoyed the delightful town of Cumberland Gap which has an interesting bicycle museum and several good coffee shops/restaurants. I had my first beet burger at the Pineapple Tea Room and Coffee Ship. It was good! Camping, we also ate good as we picked up in a rural grocery store some rib-eyes to grill. They were local and grass fed and it was some of the best meat I’ve had in the eastern part of the country where all the meat tends to be corn-fattened.
Black-eyed Susans along the Wilderness Road bike/horse path
After a couple of nights at Cumberland Gap, we headed over to Abingdon and Damascus for the purpose of riding the Virginia Creeper trail. We found a wonderful camping spot (with a cucumber tree, which I had to look up to identify). I enjoyed being back in this country, as it’s been well over thirty years since I came through here while hiking the Appalachian Trail.
The Virginia Creeper is a neat trail that follows an old railroad bed from Abingdon to Whitetop, Virginia, and on to Todd NC. The train stopped running in the mid-70s, and in the 80s, it was converted to a bike trail. Where were lots of people on the trail. You can catch a shuttle from Damascus to the top of Whitetop, which we did. There were several shuttles running every hour. Talking to a driver, I learned that during the fall color season, there are as many as a dozen vans an hour coming up to the top! It was a nice and easy ride. I stopped and walked a bit on the Appalachian Trail for old time sake (but the AT has been relocated here since I hiked this area, so I wasn’t exactly walking in my old steps.
New River as seen from an old trestle
Leaving the Damascus/Mount Rogers area, we headed over to the New River State Park, where the state of Virginia runs a fifty some mile long linear park along the New River from Galax to Pulaski. We road the trail from from Galax to our site, about 28 miles, which made a nice day. But this trail involved more peddling than the Creeper trail in which you could almost coast the whole way.
I-77 bridge over the New River
My bike resting against a mile marker on the New River trail 27 miles from Pulaski
One of two tunnels on the trail
One of many trestles along the New River Trail
The campsites are rather expensive for pit toilets and no showers ($25/night), but we loved our site. It was just steps from the river and we had the place to ourselves. We slept to the sound of water running over rocks (augmented by the sounds of birds, frogs, insects, and the wind). It was a wonderful place to camp. And every evening, I took a swim in the river.
After getting back and having a hurricane threaten, another full moon came around. This time, at home and on a semi-clear evening, I made the best of it by paddling around Pigeon Island (about 6 miles). It was a magical evening starting with incredibly red skies and then the beauty of the moon.
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
September 15, 2019
Jeremiah 2:1-13
We began our series on Prophesies and Pottery last week, when we saw how Jeremiah was formed by God to be his mouthpiece to Israel. Our image was that of a lump of clay, which has not yet been formed into the vessel. We’re all like that lump and when we allow God to mold us, we can become something beautiful. Throughout the Book of Jeremiah are images of pottery and clay. Some are being formed. Others have already been formed and fired and are now broken and no longer useful. Today’s image is like that, of a broken cistern. There is not much use in a vessel which no longer holds water, just as the cracked pot in our display is useless. Today’s message can be summarized: “Don’t be a crackpot.”
Last week we learned of Jeremiah’s call by God as a prophet to pluck up and to pull down, to destroy and to overthrow, to build and to plant.”[1] As I stated then, Jeremiah was one of the longest serving prophets in Israel’s history, with a career spanning roughly forty years. In chapter two, we see that the prophet gets down to business, as he calls on God’s people to change their ways before it is too late.
This chapter takes the form of a legal indictment, a common genre in the ancient world. There are surviving examples in which a ruler or a king wrote an indictment against a ruler of a vassal state who is not fulfilling the desires of the controlling state. Think about the king of Judah, as a vassal state of Assyria, receiving a letter from the king of Assyria. The letter would contain an indictment. It could be used to nip in the bud any thoughts of revolution, as the superior king reminds his inferior king the benefits of their relationship while also threating punishment if things don’t change.[2] A more recent example might have been a letter sent from the Soviet premier to Hungary in 1956 or Czechoslovakia in 1968, right before troops rolled in. The leaders of Hong Kong have probably also received such a letter. It’s also like a letter of a jilted spouse or lover. God sends this letter to his people through Jeremiah. It’s a warning and a reminder of who’s in charge.
This passage contains some of the earliest words of Jeremiah,[3] perhaps being spoken even before the religious reforms of King Josiah, long before Babylon comes onto the international scene. Last week, I spoke about how Jeremiah was called to be a prophet at an optimistic time in the history of Judah. The armies of Assyria had destroyed the northern kingdom of Israel and for a century had controlled Judah as a vassal state. But Assyria’s power was waning. Without them on the international stage, there was hope of a better future for the Hebrew people. But it didn’t happen. Josiah was killed, his reforms were short-lived, and the people continued to chase after the gods of their neighbors. Jeremiah’s voice brings God’s indictment against the Hebrew people, especially the leaders (both religious and secular) for allowing and encouraging such idolatry. As you can imagine, when things are looking up, people don’t want to hear such rants as came from Jeremiah. But he was called to be faithful, not to scratch their itchy ears. Read Jeremiah 2:1-13
In the spring of 2018, my sister, my father, and I took a trip to the Dry Tortugas. I’m sure many of you read the article I had about the trip in The Skinnie.[4] A popular misconception is that Key West is the last of the keys. It’s not. Sixty-eight miles west of Key West are the Dry Tortugas, a collection of small coral keys that rise just above sea level. The island was discovered by the Spanish explorer Ponce de Leon, who named it “las Tortugas” or “the turtles.” Without any fresh water to drink, cartographers added the word “dry” as a warning to sailors. Even without water, the islands were strategically important for our country, especially in the days of sailing ships. The keys provided a harbor for ships during storms and they provided an outpost to intercept any attempts of an invasion of our Gulf Coast. The islands protected the harbors of New Orleans, Mobile and Pensacola. In the early 19th Century, after the War of 1812, when our nation began to seriously deal with national defense, Fort Jefferson, a huge brick fortress, was built on the largest key. Fort Jefferson may be the largest brick structure in the Western Hemisphere.
If you’re going to have a fort with a substantial garrison on an island without fresh water, you must find a way to overcome that limitation. The engineers who designed Fort Jefferson came up with a unique way to address the lack of water. They built a series of cisterns under the walls of the fort and designed a system to funnel rainwater into the cisterns where they provided water for later use. The fort could hold nearly two million gallons of water. It was thought there would be enough water and provisions within the walls for the fort to survive a yearlong siege.
But the plans of men and women often fail. This massive fort, built with millions of bricks and packed dirt, was so heavy that of the 136 cisterns, all but three cracked and allowed saltwater to infiltrate. They became useless.
Through Jeremiah, God says that the Hebrew people are like cracked cisterns. The Hebrew people knew that God was talking about, for they lived in a semi-arid land that only received water part of the year. Farmers would dig out cisterns in the rock, but since the rock was limestone, which is porous, they’d have to seal the rock with a plaster-like substance. But the earth moves and at times such cisterns would crack and began to leak and when the farmer needed water, none would be available.[5]
The cracked cistern image shows Israel’s condition after chasing after non-existent gods. As humans, we all need water. An image of God’s providence found throughout Scripture is that of living water nourishing us.[6] God expects us to draw from such living water, but when we turn our backs on God, or try to create our own source of water (be it security or prosperity) while ignoring God, we risk dying of thirst. That huge, powerful fort that couldn’t provide its own drinking water is a good example. It takes more than human strength and might to provide for our needs. It’s also dangerous for us to seek security in anything outside of God, for no other gods (that’s gods with a small g), or human systems of power, will last forever. Sooner or later, we will fail. Only God is eternal. Do we stick with God or with the plans of men and women?
But the people of Israel didn’t want to hear this. Jeremiah the bullfrog, croaking in the corner of society, was a nuisance they tried to ignore. And soon, it would be too late. Jeremiah’s call needs to be heard throughout all ages: “trust in the Lord, not in anything else.” It’s as true today as it was 2500 years ago.
As you know, the Session of your church have been studying the challenges facing us. As a congregation, we are aging. We are struggling to find ways to reach new groups of people, and to invite them to be a part of our fellowship and help us continue to reflect Jesus face to our community and to the world. The Session has spent considerable time and energy examining the congregation and the community. We have looked at our worship services, the message and the music, along with the needs and wants of members and non-members. But about half-way along this road, it finally dawned on some of us that what’s important isn’t what we want, but what God wants. So, we added a prayer component to our attempts to strategically plan. We know that without God, we are useless. We are like cracked pots in which the water runs into the ground. The problem with cracked pots or cisterns is that sooner or later, when drought comes, we’re left dry. So, I encourage you to join with the Session in praying daily for our congregation. Each week, you’ll receive a new prayer. It’s on your flyleaf of the bulletin and you’ll also receive it as an email reminder during the middle of the week. Take this prayer and pray it daily. Whatever we end up doing, we need to be seeking God’s direction.
Friends, we don’t want to be cracked pots. We want to be vessels holding abundant living water that will quench our thirst, and can be shared to others, to quench theirs. Amen.
©2019
[1] Jeremiah 1:10.
[2] J. A. Thompson, The Book of Jeremiah: TNICOT (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1980), 159-160.
[3] John Bright, Jeremiah: The Anchor Bible (New York: Doubleday, 1965), 16.
[4] Jeff Garrison, “A Visit to the Dry Tortugas,” The Skinnie, Vol. 16 #15 (July 20, 2018).
[5] Thompson, 170-171.
[6] Jesus spoke of this as recorded in John’s gospel (see John 4:10-14, 7:37-38). It appears several places in Revelation (see Revelation 7:17; 21:6; 22:1, 27), Even more common is the stream that God provides which brings life, which is found at Creation in Genesis (Genesis 2:6) and throughout the Psalms (see Psalms 1:3, 46:4 as examples). Jeremiah will later use the image of the stream bring life in 31:12.
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
September 8, 2019
Jeremiah 1:4-10
The prophet Jeremiah lived in interesting times. He was one of the longest serving prophets in Israel’s history, his calling coming as the Assyrians were losing power. It was a time of optimism in Jerusalem because they had existed as a vassal state under Assyria for over a century. It appeared they might be free once again, as in the years of Kings David and Solomon. Furthermore, Josiah, one of Judah’s few good kings, was implementing religious reforms. But then Josiah is killed in battle against Egypt.[1] Instead of peace and prosperity, the years following Jeremiah’s call are troubling. Babylon rises in power and the nation’s existence is again threatened.[2] Jeremiah, as a prophet, must go against the grain as he brings God’s message to the Hebrew people.
We, too, are living in interesting times. Things are scary in our world: rogue nations having the bomb, individuals going berserk and killing people, terrorists creating political instability, and huge storms leaving behind chaos and destruction. The news often leaves us fearful and angry. And since we often don’t have answers for the problems we face, we blame others. Ben Sasse, a Senator from Nebraska, suggests one of the few things uniting us is our contempt for those of whom we assign blame. “At least,” we say, “we’re not like them.”[3] By the way, in his book Them, Sasse suggests this is not the way to live!
As in the days of Jeremiah, we need to hear a rational voice reminding us to trust in a God who has the power to reshape and remake us, as a potter crafts clay, in a way that the future will be bright and wonderful. Maybe we—look around, you and I—need to be that rational voice. This is God’s call to the church of today. We must step up to the plate and offer an optimistic challenge to the world today. This morning we’re going to look at the call of Jeremiah. As I read this passage, consider how God might be calling you… Read Jeremiah 1:4-10.
Jeremiah was a bullfrog,
was a good friend of mine.
I never understood a single word he said
but I helped him drink his wine.[4]
Did Hoyt Axton, who wrote this song that became a major hit for Three Dog Night, have the prophet Jeremiah in mind? There’s some debate about it. His lifestyle didn’t exactly display Sunday School values, but the words “Joy to the World” certainly draws upon the Christian imagination.[5] We don’t know his intentions, but Jeremiah was a bullfrog. Let me explain.
Back in early May, Gary Witbeck and I took a trip into the Okefenokee National Wildlife Refuge. On our second night, we were camping on a platform at a place called “Big Water.” It’s the headwaters for the Suwanee River. As the sun set and evening descended, we watched alligators battle over territory (or maybe they were fighting over mates, or were flirting, we couldn’t tell the difference). While the gators fought, in the background a chorus of frogs sang. Their song would come in waves, starting up the river and working its way down and then back up. The frogs were in perfect harmony. You couldn’t tell one frog’s croak from another. It was quite beautiful.
But occasionally during that evening, we’d hear the loud croaking of a bullfrog. They were distinct. They were loners. You could pick out each individual one and the direction toward where the frog was located. Jeremiah was like that, like a bullfrog. He provided a distinct message to the people of Israel. He was heard off to the side. There were others in those days, a chorus of prophets, who spouted off the message the people and the king wanted to hear. Their sounds all blended together. But Jeremiah was alone, going against the popular chorus. He was God’s messenger.
But this is where the song gets it wrong. The one singing, claims to be a friend of Jeremiah, enjoying drinking his wine. But the Jeremiah of the Old Testament, was often lonely. He didn’t have many friends bellying up to him at the bar. Like a bullfrog, he cried out the message from God that he’s been given, and message that no one wanted to hear, so he was often alone and vulnerable. But he was faithful, and when we consider eternity, that makes all the difference in the world.
Today, the church appears more and more marginalized in society. After decades of arguing over things around the periphery (issues of sex and of women leadership and homosexual rights and such), and having been so caught up in political debates, those outside the church identify us more by what we’re against than the person we are to be following. For Jeremiah, doing God’s work was a challenge. For us, following Christ can be just as challenging.[6] We need to offer hope to the world that can only be found in Christ Jesus. But it’s easy to succumb to the chatter around us, to become a frog in the chorus and not the distinctive sound of the bullfrog.
You’ll notice in the text that Jeremiah didn’t have a choice in all this. He was chosen by God before the foundation of the earth. Yesterday morning, in the Men’s Bible Study, we were reading Paul’s letter to the Ephesians, where are reminded that God calls us through Jesus Christ to do the work which has been prepared for us.[7] Our call, like Jeremiah’s and the Ephesians’, isn’t something that we initiate. It comes from God.
Eugene Peterson notes how we often get things wrong. We see ourselves coming to church to learn about God or to check in on what’s God up to. But that’s backwards. It’s not our initiative. God has known us all along and is calling and leading us through the Spirit. God’s doing this long before we even accept his existence.[8] Regardless of who we are, God loves us and sees us as important and can use us to help make this world a better place.
Of course, like Jeremiah, we can beg off. Jeremiah said, “I’m just a boy.” Looking around, we might say, “we’re too old.” But God has heard that one, too. Remember Abraham and Sara? How old were they?[9] Have you ever wondered if maybe the reason God used all these old folks in the Old Testament was to take away our excuses? We’re all young. None of us have an excuse. God promised Jeremiah that he’s going to be with him and that he would be given the words to say to the corrupt generation into which he’d been born. Likewise, Jesus promises his followers (that be “us”) that we’ll be given the words to say.[10] Do we trust God enough to live differently, to sing a different song, to stand out against the crowd and to live, not for ourselves, but for our Lord Jesus Christ?
Jeremiah has been appointed for a mission. Likewise, the church has been appointed for a mission. We’re all called by God to follow Jesus and to point to him as our hope in a world that often seems hopeless.
Over the next six weeks, as we work through this series, we’ll be using images of potters. Our image today is a clump of clay, being kneaded like bread dough. The technical term for doing this to clay is “wedged.” The potter takes the clay and stretches and pushes it like a baker works dough. In doing this, all the air pockets are worked out so that the clay is easier to shape on the wheel and afterwards, when firing, the pot won’t have air pockets that’ll explode and destroy the vessel.[11] As followers of Jesus, we have to be open for God working with us, just as a potter works with clay, in order that we might be reshaped. God will work out the old and create in us something new. Are we open to such shaping? Are we willing to be a bullfrog for God and to call people to be attentive to Jesus’ way of living?
Paul, writing to the Ephesians, encouraged them to put away all bitterness, wrath, anger, wrangling, slander and malice. Such behavior is to be wedged out of us, like air is wedged out of the clay, so that we might be kind to one another, tenderhearted, and forgiving.[12] The world may see such traits as signs of weakness. They even got Jesus killed. But that was then. We need to remember that the world, as it is, won’t last. We’re not looking for the world’s approval. We’re striving to be faithful to that which is eternal, our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.
©2019
[1] 2 Kings 23:28ff.
[2] For a background on the world in Jeremiah’s day, see John Bright, “The Life and Message of Jeremiah,” in Jeremiah (New York: Doubleday, 1965), LXXXVI-CXXIV.
[3] Ben Sasse, Them: Why We Hate Each Other-and How to Heal (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 2018), 9.
[4] Hoyt Axton, “Joy to the World.” Recorded by Three Dog Night on Naturally, 1970.
[5] https://www.songfacts.com/facts/three-dog-night/joy-to-the-world
[6] See Stan Mast, Notes on Jeremiah 1:4-10 published on the “Center for Excellence in Preaching website: https://cep.calvinseminary.edu/sermon-starters/proper-16c-2/?type=old_testament_lectionary
[7] See Ephesians 2, especially Ephesians 2:10.
[8] Eugene H. Peterson, Run with the Horses: The Quest for Life at Its Best (Downers’ Grove, IL: Intervarsity Press, 1983), 37-38.
[9] Abraham was 75 when he was called (Genesis 12:4). He was 100 and Sara 90 when Isaac was born (Genesis 17:17).
[10] Matthew 10:19.
[11] For a discussion of this process, see Marjory Zoet Bankson, The Soulwork of Clay: A Hands-On Approach to Spirituality (Woodstock, VT: Skylight Paths, 2008), Chapter 1: Grounding.
[12] Ephesians 4:31-32. Likewise, Jeremiah is called to both “pluck up, tear down, destroy and overthrow” while also building up and planting (which we can assume to mean removing that which is not pleasing to God, and planting/building up that which is pleasing).
Dorian is gone. It was more a “non-event” here. I ended up not evacuating even though I continued to watch the Weather Channel to see if things might change. But the storm stayed well off the Georgia coast. We received only a little wind and rain. I actually thought we had received very little rain, barely over an inch. Then I looked at the gauge again, 30 minutes later, and it was empty! The bottom of the gauge had sprung a leak. So I have no idea who much water we received. Our neighborhood also maintained power until we were on the backside of the storm. We lost it yesterday morning about 7:30 AM. I had to go out and dig into my camping equipment to fetch a coffee peculator. Since Hurricane Matthew (where I cooked on a camp stove on the front porch), we had replaced the electric stove top with gas. So, yesterday morning, I fixed corned beef hash, poached eggs, and coffee for breakfast, as you can see in the photo.
The gifts of Dorian
I got sick of the Weather Channel after three days of it being constantly on. At first, they seemed to be sponsored by hair growth and coloring folks. I wonder if they think the storm was going to either cause people to prematurely gray (Dorian Gray?) or to pull out their hair. I also noticed how, whenever a governor wanted to speak, they cut in live to their press conferences. We heard the governors of Florida, Georgia, South and North Carolina. They all spoke from the same script (be careful, follow directions, etc). When the Gov. was done, they would call up the person in charge of disaster operations for the state (ie, those who know really going on) and that’s when the Weather Channel would cut away to Jim Cantore (who must not receive any free product samples of the hair growth product that pays his salary). I would have liked to heard from the state expert and not the politician, but… By day three, I was searching for old World War II movies.
After eating breakfast yesterday morning, I spent some time on the front porch reading. As the rain stopped and the winds began to die, I set out to clean up the yard. By 12:30 AM, it was all picked up and even the back deck blown off. The picture to the right is of the yard debris, the gifts of Dorian. We were blessed. My family up in SE North Carolina also came through the storm unscathed. I wish we could say the same for the people in the Bahamas.
This photo was taken at Delegal Creek last night as the sunset. Hurricane Dorian is several hundred miles south at this point. Today, as I write this, we have had a few bands of rain with wind, but nothing too bad. The storm should brush by us late this afternoon or in the evening, but will be staying off shore. Prayers to those in the Bahamas who suffered so greatly, and for those in the Carolinas who may experience more of this storm’s fury.
Robert A. Caro, The Years of Lyndon Johnson: The Path to Power, (New York: Alfred Knopf, 1982), 882 pages, photos, index and detailed notes on sources used.
It’s a goal of mine to read Caro’s multi-volume biography of Lyndon Johnson. He’s the first President I can remember. The only thing I remember of Kennedy was him being shot in Dallas, as I had just started the first grade. LBJ would remain President throughout my elementary years.
Several years ago, I partly read this volume, but this summer invested the time to listen and/or read the entire volume that covers the life of the future President from before his birth through the beginning of the Second World War. The first volume I read in this series, over a decade ago, was Master of the Senate. It was Caro’s third volume, which consists of the years from 1948, when LBJ was elected to the senate, to the late 1950s as the 1960 Presidential campaign heated up. Caro has four volumes out and has just began covering Johnson’s presidency. As he is now in his 80s and I (along with lots of other folks) hope he’ll complete his life-long ambition to cover all of Johnson’s life.
As with Caro’s other volumes, he spends a significant portion of his book providing background information. The reader learns about the events that shaped life in the Texas Hill Country and the people who influenced Johnson. We’re taken back to the early years of Texas and of its frontier heritage that was still in the memories of those alive when Johnson was a boy. Johnson always discounted his father as a failed drunk and attempted to create an image of a self-made man, but Carol dug deeper and discovered a different truth. Johnson’s father was a very honest former legislator whose ties to populism was so strong he had his son listening to the speeches of Williams Jennings Bryan. He also took Lyndon, as a boy, with him to Austin, where Johnson experienced the political life for the first time. There were many other individuals who helped Johnson’s rise to power. Richard Kleberg, one of the richest men in Texas and a new congressman, hired a schoolteacher named Lyndon to be his congressional aide. As an aid, Johnson both learned politics as well as began to build his own base of power. Then there was Sam Raybun, a Texas congressman who became speaker of the House and who saw LBJ as the son he never had. There was Herman Brown, of Brown and Root, became a mighty industrialist who helped and was helped by Johnson’s growing power. Caro also provides details in how the landscape of the hill country shaped those who settled there, such as Johnson’s families on both sides of his family. He even provides detail into a dam that helped push Brown and Root to a major corporation, a dam in which Johnson worked to fund as a junior congressman. The funding was in jeopardy because the dam did not meet the New Deal guidelines, but Johnson found a way around such requirements.
As Caro points out over and over again, the real Lyndon wasn’t likable. He was awkward, didn’t really fit in, and learned early on how to manipulate others. Most of his peers didn’t think highly of him, but some saw his ambition and was willing to work for him with the hopes that as he rose in power, they would too. When he was denied entry into the White Stars, a college club, he created his own secret club, the Black Stars. Those who joined him had also been denied entry into the more elite group. They were able to secretly control school politics. While he wasn’t popular with those his age, Johnson had a way with adults and spent more time with them.
From an early age, he wanted to be President. Caro’s shows how LBJ never lost that ambition. From politics in college, through working as a congressional aide for Kleberg, to heading the New Deal’s Youth Program in Texas, to a young congressman raising money for other congressmen, Johnson was constantly building a larger organization with the goal to become President. Interestingly, while through the book, Johnson publicly is seen as a “Roosevelt man,” and in favor of the New Deal, Caro shows how Johnson’s politics was more about achieving and holding power than ideology.
Johnson was quite a risk-taker. After marrying LadyBird, he carried on an affair with the beautiful and younger mistresses of Charles Marsh, one of his top supporters who also owned a number of newspapers in Texas. Obviously, had that become well-known, it had the potential to destroy the young Congressman’s political future.
In the spring of 1941, a senator from Texas died suddenly. Johnson, seeing this as his opportunity to increase his power, campaigned for the race. He quickly went to work building a base and becoming the front runner against many other better-known candidates, when the state’s colorful governor, Pappy O’Daniel, through his name into hat. “Pass the biscuits, Pappy,” was a former flour salesman, who knew how to campaign (his character even shows up the movie “O Brother, Where Art Thou). It became a bitter race with both sides having precincts that they controlled. When he through he had a comfortable lead, Johnson told his precinct bosses to release their votes. Pappy, holding on to a handful of precincts, was then able to “best” Johnson by 1300 votes. It would be the only election Johnson would lose.
While Johnson doesn’t come across as a likeable character throughout the book, there were places where Caro showed a gentler side of him. As a teacher in a mostly Mexican-American school, he was one of the few who cared for this students and encouraged their success. Later, after college, he became a teacher in Sam Houston High School where, as a debating coach, was able to propel his students to greatness. Johnson was a complex man, who carefully cultivated his image. The book leaves the reader wondering what’s going to happen to the young congressman who receives an appointment as a naval officer as the country goes to war. I also came away book wanting to know more about Johnson’s father and his “surrogate” father, Sam Rayburn.
If you have the time (and you’ll need it) and interest, I recommend this book!
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
Luke 14:7-14
September 1, 2019
The fourteenth chapter of Luke’s gospel opens with Jesus attending a dinner party at the home of a leading Pharisee. It’s the Sabbath, so it’s a special gathering with food that had been prepared earlier. As the sun sets and the Sabbath begins, Jews put on their finest robes and light their best candles. The Sabbath is important; one Jewish scholar describes the whole week as a pilgrimage to the Sabbath which is a foretaste of the eternal Sabbath.[1] But, as we know, there was a lot of debate in Jesus’ day over the meaning and purpose of the Sabbath. Jesus taught that the Sabbath is created for us, not us for the Sabbath, as some taught.[2]
Luke creates tension by telling us in verse two that all the eyes are on Jesus. There’s a man suffering from dropsy, an illness swells the body with water. Today, it might be called “Congestive Heart Failure.[3] He’s right in front of Jesus. Is Jesus being set up? Jesus asks the gathered crowd if it’s right to cure on the Sabbath. He receives no answer, so he cures the man. The he justifies his actions by asking them if they would intervene if they had an ox or a child fall into a well on the Sabbath. The crowd remains quiet.
This dinner party must have been the quietest on record. Normally, as everyone gathers, people mingle around with cocktails and greet one another. There’s a lot of talking. People offer their opinions about the day’s ballgame or the hurricane offshore or the Treasury’s inverted yield curve. But that doesn’t seem to be the case here. Everyone is quiet, so Jesus takes the stage and teaches with a series of parables. Today, we’re going to look at the first parable. Read Luke 14:7-14.
At the end of the sixth grade at Bradley Creek Elementary School, there was a graduation banquet. It was held in the evening, which made it special, and in the cafeteria, which wasn’t so special. I’m sure we had macaroni and cheese. We always had mac and cheese. There must have been a rule that you couldn’t open the cafeteria without mac and cheese. But this was a special meal, so maybe there was a slice of ham or a piece of chicken and a piece of cake that was larger than the one inch cubes they fed us at lunch.
While I don’t remember exactly what we ate, there’s another memory from that evening that haunted me for years. I assumed our parents were invited to this banquet. I encouraged my parents to come. I am not sure where I got this idea, for there no other parents there. I’m not even sure why I thought it would be a big treat for my parents to eat cafeteria food. I was embarrassed, even though they graciously slipped out. Instead of eating cafeteria mac and cheese, they went to Wrightsville Beach for a seafood dinner.
Knowing the feeling of having invited someone who wasn’t invited, I understand some of what Jesus is driving at in this passage. Don’t make assumptions. It’s always better to be called up to the head table, than to be told you need to go to the back of the room. It’s simple banquet etiquette.
In the bulletin, I titled this sermon “Humility and Hospitality.” The problem with coming up with a title a few weeks before writing a sermon is that you often have no idea where the sermon is heading. I later decided that a better title might be Banquet Etiquette. But as I continued to study and ponder, I decided to put a question mark at the end. Yes, Jesus expects us to be humble and not pretentious. Such advice will also keep us from being in an embarrassing position. Yes, on the surface, this is about etiquette. But is this what Jesus is driving? Is this Jesus’ attempt to be the Emily Post of the first century? Or is there a deeper message here?
Remember what I said about the Sabbath, before reading this passage? That it was a foretaste of the eternal kingdom. And this section of Luke’s gospel is filled with parables that focus on the kingdom.[4] Parables generally operate on more than one level. They often, as Ken Bailey describes in his work on parables, contain a “play within a play.”[5] Each level has a different meaning. While the obvious meaning of our text today is about being humble and not pretentious, the deeper meaning of the parable has to do with God’s kingdom. What is Jesus envisioning here?
The surface meaning may have to do with avoiding embarrassment. A deeper meaning might be that we should humble ourselves. One of the challenges that Jesus had was his disciples wanting to grab key positions in the coming kingdom.[6] Two of the dudes when so far as to ask their mom to intervene with Jesus on their behalf.[7] This is a deeper meaning of the parable. Don’t get caught up in all the fuss over where you’re going to be seated at the heavenly banquet (or even an earthly ones).
But there is another way to look at this parable, which I had not considered until I read a blog post by a pastor in Iowa earlier this week.[8] He found himself needing to get to Minnesota where his wife was at with one of their cars that he needed to drive back to Iowa. He took the bus, which meant leaving Des Moines at 5 AM. Taking a bus can be an experience as most of the people on the bus are not like us. We drive or fly. I know what he means by taking a bus because 25 years ago, Donna and I had taken the train out west. It was a summer with a lot of floods and since train tracks are often right by rivers, they were flooded. Coming back, we ended up being on a bus for part of our journey. On this trip, from Iowa to Minnesota, the blogger realized the blessings that can come for being among those who were not like him—those with darker skin, many of whom spoke Spanish. Blessings can be experienced even when sitting at the back of any banquet.
Instead of Jesus wanting us to show humility in the hopes that we might be called up to the head table (as you could read this passage), maybe Jesus is telling us to meet others where we find ourselves. Show hospitality to those less fortunate. If our only goal was to sit at the head table, we could easily display false humility to gain such a blessing. [9] Image a Monty Python skit where everyone is trying to outdo one another in humility in order to be seen as most humble just so they could be exalted.
But Jesus wants us to long for the kingdom, which isn’t going to be made up of exclusively of those who look, and act like us. Jesus’ vision is for a world where believers cherish their friendship and fellowship with all people. It’s about us showing goodness to those who have no way to repay us for what we can do for them. Ponder what this kind of world might look like.
You know, none of us know what this week will bring as Dorian churns up the waters. When Hurricane Matthew hit in 2016, I spent a few days in Dublin, GA. There’s a great hot dog shop there, not far from the courthouse, where I found myself drawn at lunchtime. There were the regulars, but there was also those of us in exile: from Savannah, from Hilton Head, from Brunswick and Saint Simons. The place was packed. Friendships were made as we were forced to share tables. Stories were told of shared experiences such as being in gridlock on the highway. There was a lot laughter. I image that’s how the kingdom will be. So, if we evacuate this week, and you find yourself in a strange land for a few days, don’t see it as a burden. Instead, take it as an opportunity to sample the kingdom. That’s what Jesus would have you do. Let us pray:
God of the wind and waves, the earth and the sky, we know of Jesus calming the storm. Calm our hearts as Dorian approaches and keep us safe. We pray for the people in the northern Bahamas, who are experiencing the worst of a natural disaster. Be with them, and with us. Where ever we find ourselves, whether we are at the head table or in the back corner, help us to be the people who show kindness. Amen.
©2019
[1] Abraham Joshua Heschel, The Sabbath (1951, New York: Farrar, Staus, & Giroux, 1979), 90-91.
[2] Mark 2:27. See also Luke 6:1-5.
[3] https://www.medicinenet.com/script/main/art.asp?articlekey=13311
[4] In Luke 13, Jesus tells two parables of the kingdom (verses 18-19: Parable of the Mustard Seed, and verses 20-21, Parable of the Yeast). After this parable, he tells another parable of the great banquet, which is also about God’s coming kingdom.
[5] Kenneth El. Bailey, Through Peasant Eyes, (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1980), xiii.
[6] I. Howard Marshall, New International Greek Testament Commentary: Commentary on Luke (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1981), 581.
[7] Matthew 20:20.
[8] https://blog.reformedjournal.com/2019/08/27/my-bus-ride/?utm_source=Email+Subscribers&utm_campaign=ef7c65f61a-RSS_EMAIL_CAMPAIGN&utm_medium=email&utm_term=0_6195eefb80-ef7c65f61a-111355499
[9] See Fred B. Craddock, Luke (Louisville, KY: JKP, 1990), 176-177. Craddock reminds his readers that the word in the New Testament that’s translated as hospitality literally means “love of a stranger.” Hospitality isn’t just rolling out the red carpet for important guests but welcoming those who may be on the margin.
Zach Powers, First Cosmic Velocity (New York: Putman, 2019), 340 pages.
I’m not sure how to classify this novel. At times I thought the author had written the first anti-Sci-fi (similar to the anti-western genre of films that began to challenge the classical westerns in the 1960s). At other times, it felt as if I was reading a comedic Cold War spy thriller or an alternative history. Regardless of the genre, this book is a fun read.
It’s 1964 and the Soviet space program is a deception. Instead of challenging the United States in the race to the moon, the Soviets haven’t yet had a successful mission. They have placed men and women into space, but have yet to successfully bring them back to earth. The cosmonauts have either burned up on re-entry or in the case of Leonid, are doomed to orbit the earth for the entire book. You’ll have to read it to understand what happens. To make up for the lack of success, the Soviet cosmonaut corps are made up of identical twins, each given the same name. While one sibling conducts a suicide mission, the other receives a hero welcome back home. The secrecy of the program is so guarded that only a few know about it. Even the Soviet premier, Khrushchev, doesn’t know of the deceit. At first, even Ignatius, the KGB-type agent who is always close by, doesn’t appear to know (even though she knows more secrets than most). In a country with lots of deception and secrets, maintaining this secret is of ultimate importance for everyone involved (including the remaining twins) risked execution for treason is exposed.
This secrecy leads to humorous moments such as when Khrushchev volunteers his dog for the next space mission. Everyone but the Premier hates his ratty dog, and they can’t find another one like it in all Russia. Khrushchev aids secretly suggest they leave the disliked mutt in space (not realizing that might actually happen as the space agency has no way of returning it alive to earth). The space program is frantically attempting to build a successful heat shield that will allow cosmonauts (and dogs) to safely return, while two of the surviving twins (the second Leonid, the brother of the Leonid in space, and Nadya, whose sister was the first cosmonaut, run away.
The book ping pongs between 1964 and 1950, the year when a famine struck the Ukraine, That’s the year the twins who were both renamed Leonid were taken from their grandma to be trained for the space program. As the reader is taken from the present (1964), into the past, we gain inside into bits of history such as the struggle within the various states within the Soviet Union, the impact of the war (World War 2), and the hope of the space program. Powers also brings up the discussion of faith, looking at how the older members of society (such as the twin’s grandmother) practices faith and prayer, and its role (or lack of a role) with the younger generations who have grown up in an atheistic society. In one discussion, it is suggested that a society without gods must create them from their “heroes”
This is a delightful and unique novel. I recommend it for an enjoyable read. For full disclosure, I was in a writing group with Zach Powers when I first moved to Savannah (and before he left the area). I was under no obligation to write this review.
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
Hebrews 12:1-2
August 25, 2019
Why do we exist? What is our purpose in life? The Westminster Confession says we’re to enjoy and glorify God. That’s succinct. In Rick Warren’s best seller, The Purpose Driven Life, he expands this into five purposes. First, we are to love God. God wants us to open our lives up so that we might experience and be overwhelmed by divine love and in turn we might show our love to God. We call this worship. Our second purpose is that we’re created to belong to God’s family, which we know as the church. Within this new family, we are to be nurtured and to mature. This morning, I want us to consider our third purpose: to become like God’s Son. A big word for this is sanctification. We’re to become Christ-like. The fourth and fifth purposes are that we’re shaped to serve God and are made for a God-given mission.[1] Our text this morning is from the 12th Chapter of the Book of Hebrews, the first two verses.
Last weekend, Donna and I were in Cumberland Gap, a significant place in American history even through it is mostly overlooked these days. This gap was the easiest place for settlers from the Carolinas to Southern Pennsylvania to make their way across the Appalachian Mountains. Today, we breeze through those mountains on engineered roads, but in the late 18th Century, those mountains stood like barricades, keeping people out. Then along came Daniel Boone, who built the Wilderness Road through the mountains and for the next hundred years, it was the easiest way to get into Kentucky and Tennessee and further west. It felt good to be there, riding bikes over the same terrain that Boone cut the road that began western migration. I’ve always liked Daniel Boone.
My first lunch box had a photo of Fess Parker who played Daniel Boone in the TV show that was popular back during my childhood years. And you bet I watched it. When I was in the second grade, we had an opportunity to buy books from a flyer sent home from the school. It was fundraiser designed to raise money for the school and help get books into the hands of children. My parents allowed me to buy a book. I looked through that catalog and knew right away that the book I wanted. It was a biography, written on a child’s level, of Daniel Boone. On the day that it came, I looked through the book, but found many words I did not know so I took it to my mom, and she helped me read. One of the words that I seemed to have a hard time learning was “enemy.” I just couldn’t get it out. I had a mental block against this word and had to ask several times what the word was. Hard to imagine ever being that innocent, isn’t it?
Daniel Boone was a pioneer. A pioneer is one who goes out before everyone else to chart new territory. As the writer of Hebrews reminds us in verse 2, Jesus was the pioneer of our faith. He paved the way for us! Pioneers do the hard work. Daniel Boone helped clear a road into the wilderness, so that those who followed could travel more easily. Instead of hiking over the mountains with only a backpack, people could travel in wagons pulled by oxen, carrying a ton of stuff. Boone did the hard work to make this possible.
Jesus’ suffering, his death and resurrection, was the hard work for our faith. We should give thanks and praise for what Jesus has done for us, but we must remember that as the stone of that tomb was being rolled away, and Jesus was resurrected, the responsibility for God’s kingdom on earth shifted from him to us. Remember John Kennedy’s immortal words, “Ask not what your country can do for you; ask what you can do for your country.” With a slight change of wording, we can apply this advice to our faith: “Ask not what Jesus can do for us (for he’s already done it); ask what we can do for Jesus.”[2]
The main image in our text is not a coon-skinned capped pioneer, but that of a coliseum filled with spectators watching sporting events. Think of the Olympics.[3] The crowd is loud, and everyone cheers as those in the race run. Christ has already taken the lead, now he’s handing off the baton… Next will be our turn to take the baton and run around the track. It’s our chance to emulate Christ and to build upon his lead. With everyone watching, we’re to do what we can to prepare? We shed clothing that might weigh us down, and we focus our mind on the task at hand as we get into the moment, ready to receive the baton.
The race is a metaphor for the Christian life. Paul uses this metaphor a number of times in his writings, reflecting the interest in sports within the Roman world of the first century.[4] As one running a race must shed all that might slow him or her down, we Christians need to shed the sinfulness that tends impede our gospel-work and tarnish our Christ-like image. One of the problems with sin is shame and one of the devil’s oldest tricks is to whisper into our ear, “You’re not worthy!” “Look at all your sin, you’re not good enough.” And the Devil is right, we’re not worthy, we’re not good enough. That’s why we must keep our eyes focused on Christ! Our hope is not in our righteousness, but in Christ.
As the author of Hebrews writes, not only is Christ the pioneer of our faith, paving the way for us to follow, he is also the “perfecter of our faith.” As I said earlier, Christ did the hard work! Our righteousness comes from what he’s done for us, not from what we do… By focusing on Christ, we can become more like him as we accept his gift of salvation. When we fall into the trap of thinking we must do it all ourselves, we become overwhelmed and easily lose heart. But when we can accept what Christ has done for us and trust in his goodness, we are freed to respond graciously.
“Life is a journey” may be a cliché but there is truth in it, especially for those of us who are Christians. This earth is not our home. Instead, we are pilgrims, like those on the Wilderness Road, traveling through on the path Jesus established, longing for a new and eternal life in the presence of God. As pilgrims, we’re being watched. Our passage reminds us of those who are watching from above, those who have already run the race and are cheering us on. But there are also others watching us, those who are looking to see what it means to follow Jesus. Since we represent our Savior, the King, we need to live in a way that will honor him which is why it is important that as we go on this journey, we strive to be Christ-like.
How might we become more Christ-like? As I’ve already covered, the writer of Hebrews first suggests we strive to unburden ourselves of sin. As a runner, anything that holds us back can be a burden; so we should make sure we are not overwhelmed. We free ourselves of burdens so that we might run faster. Secondly, we’re to persevere. We are not perfect: there will be times we’ll trip, there will be times we fall, but like a good athlete, we brush ourselves off and continue. We must pace ourselves for it’s a life-long race. We don’t give up for we are after the prize. When our time here is up, we want to stand boldly before God’s throne.[5] And finally, we’re to keep our eyes on Jesus which means we need to regularly spend time studying his life in Scripture and seeing how we might become more like him. Asking ourselves how Jesus would handle a situation is a helpful way of evaluating our response to the challenges we face as we run our race.
Think about your life and see if there are behaviors holding you back that you might let go. Where are you not living up to life Christ is calling you to lead? What can you change to become more Christ-like? Secondly, don’t give up. The Christian life isn’t always an easy run, sometimes it seems, as I discussed a few weeks ago, for every two steps forward, we take a step back. That’s okay, we’re making progress. We’re in the long haul; keep focused on the prize, knowing that Christ has already secured it for us. And finally, spend time with Jesus. Read one of the gospels: Matthew, Mark, Luke or John. Learn about Jesus’ life and pray about how his life might inform your own. Amen.
©2019
[1] Rick Warren, What On Earth Am I Here For? The Purpose Driven Life, Expanded Edition (Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan, 2012).
[2] For this link, I’m indebted to Rev. Susan Sparks, “So You’re a Christian? Whattaya Gonna Do About It?” (http://day1.org/3044-so_youre_a_christian_whattaya_gonna_do_about_it.
[3] Hugh Montefiore, A Commentary on the Epistle to the Hebrews (New York: Harper & Row, 1964), 2013-2014.
[4] 1 Corinthians 9:24-26, Galatians 2:2, 2 Timothy 4:7 and Philippians 2:16
[5] See Revelation 7:13-17
John Sexton, Baseball as a Road to God: Seeing Beyond the Game (New York: Gotham Books, 2013), 242 pages including photos, index and bibliography.
Sexton, the president of New York University, has written a wonderful book that shares his enthusiasm for baseball while weaving in thoughts drawn from his academic background as a philosopher and student of religion. The book’s chapters are divided into innings, each exploring a particular aspect of faith: “sacred space and time, faith, doubt, conversion, miracles, blessings and curses, saints and sinners, community, and nostalgia (and the myth of the eternal return).” He also throws in three extra chapters focusing on baseball: “the Knot-hole Gang (Brooklyn Dodger’s pregame show), “the seventh inning stretch” and “the clubhouse.” He highlights the parallels between the game and faith, and notes how the small details of a baseball game encourages us to slow down and enjoy life and to find meaning and beauty in small things.
Sexton is a member of the Roman Catholic Church and while he generally writes from a Christian perspective, he also draws on religious teachers from a variety of faiths: Christian, Jewish, Hindu, Buddhist and Muslim. This is not a book about orthodox Christianity, although when he writes about the Christian faith, his theology is orthodox. Having grown up in Brooklyn in the 1950s, he was a Dodger fan. In the 70s, he became a Yankee fan (this is where his orthodoxy breaks down). He felt he needed to give his son a baseball team (by then the Dodgers had long moved to Los Angeles). Discussing team allegiances allows him to explore the meaning and process of conversion.
Baseball is a game that places great hopes on what might happen next year. No one knew this better than the Brooklyn Dodger fans who encouraged one another, year after year, with the saying, “Wait till next year.” Doris Kearns Goodwin, the Presidential historian and another Brooklynite who wrote the introduction to this book, has a memoir that uses this phrase filled with Brooklyn’s hope. Of course, the Dodgers did finally win the World Series just before moving to the West Coast. Baseball, like religion, has its own eschatological vision of the future!
In the chapter of sacred time, Sexton links baseball to religion’s cycles (baseball starts just before Easter and Passover, and the regular season ends around Yom Kippur. Like all religions, baseball has a cycle of life). Drawing on the writing of Marceau Eliade, he shows the importance of specific places and times which ground our religious traditions, Sexton muses also how ballparks serve a similar function. Discussing miracles, he relives Willie Mays’ fabulous 1954 catch that turned around the last World Series played in the Polo Ground as the Giants beat the Indians. But with miracles, there is always some doubt, as he illustrates with the 1951 Giants coming from a 13 ½ game deficit behind the Brooklyn Dodgers with six weeks left in the season. But then the miraculous happened and the Giants were able to catch up and with the “shot heard around the world,” beat the Dodgers to take the pennant. Years later, it was revealed that during the last ten weeks of the season, when the Giants won 80% of their home games, the team was given an advantage with a telescope deep in a clubhouse behind center field. The Giants had been stealing the opposing team’s signals and then quickly relaying them to the batter. This wasn’t against the rule in 1951, but in 1961, it was banned by Major League Baseball. As Sexton notes, sometimes miracles just seem miraculous.
In the chapter on blessings and curses, we relive the curses of the Cub’s “bill goat” and the Red Sox’s suffering revenge for trading a failing pitcher, Babe Ruth, to the New York Yankees. In the chapter on saints and sinners, we travel to the shrine of the “saints” at the Hall of Fame in Cooperstown, New York. Saints also play a major role in religion, from those canonized within Roman Catholic Christianity, to the prophets of Judaism, to the “Friends of Allah” in Islam, to the swami of Hinduism. Of course, as with many saints, parts of their lives are overlooked as it was with Babe Ruth whose monument reads: “A GREAT BALL PLAYER, A GREAT MAN, A GREAT AMERICAN.” As Sexton reminds us, Babe wasn’t always “saintly” off the field. As for sinners, there’s Ty Cobb, who still has many records in the book, and others only broken by another “sinner,” Pete Rose. And don’t forget the Chicago “Black Sox” scandal with its conflicting tales.
If there is one thing that Sexton left out, it was purgatory. As a Protestant, I find such a concept lacking in Scripture and doctrine and it’s not a part of my faith, but as a Pirate fan, I sometimes feel stuck in purgatory. Perhaps Sexton could have added an extra inning for this concept that I find more support for at the ballpark than within doctrines of my faith.
I should also note that his book is primarily about Major League baseball. The minor leagues, little leagues and other leagues are not the focus of Sexton’s work. The is room on the shelf for other books about the religious-like hope of the minor player at making the majors, or the high school standout hoping to catch the eye of a big league scout. And, of course, every little league player and kid on a sandlot has dreamed of one day playing in the world series.
On the last page, Sexton humorously muses that maybe baseball isn’t a road to God after all, but it can help awaken us to what’s important around us while providing an example of how to merge together the life of faith and the mind. The reader has been treated to two hundred pages or baseball stories, mixed in with teachings of the great religions. This book is a delight for any baseball player. For the serious student of world culture, the book might help them learn to pay attention to life and not take things too seriously. I recommend this book, but maybe you’ll want to catch a few games as the season moves into its final stretch toward October. By November, when the ballparks are all shuttered for winter, pull out this book and remember when, or (especially if you’re a Pirate fan), “wait for next season!”
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
Luke 12:32-40
August 11, 2019
A group of 12 Presbyterians spent the morning working on a new Habitat for Humanity home in Garden City. Four of us from this church, along with others from Wilmington Island and White Bluff made up the group. It was interesting to see how each person took on tasks as we put together walls. Sarah Benton, a worker from Wilmington Island, captured the willingness of the group when she proclaimed at the start: “I’m a great ‘toter.’ Just tell me what you need, and I’ll fetch it.” That’s the attitude of a committed disciple. It’s the attitude of the Psalmist who proclaims that he’s okay just being a doorkeeper in the house of the Lord.[1]
From our group, John Evans operated the saw, cutting boards to lengths needed, while Mark Hornsby attached plates connecting the interior walls with the outer wall. And before those walls were set in place, Debbie Hornsby attached insulation foam on the bottom plate. I worked with the team that built and stood the walls. It was good to see so much done. When the heat started to get to us in early afternoon, we called it a day.
Today, we’re hearing back to back readings from Luke’s gospel where Jesus instructs the disciples not to worry about things in this world, but to build up treasure in the world to come. By working for the benefit of others, we help fulfill Jesus’ expectations for us as disciples. But this passage also has a surprise for us. While we’re not surprised to hear of our need for serving God, we are told here that God wants to serve us. In the kingdom, the roles will be reversed. Read Luke 12:32-40
Did you catch what was said in the first verse I read? Let me paraphrase it. “Do not be afraid, for it is God’s pleasure to give us the kingdom!” Get that? There is no reason for worry. God wants to give us the kingdom.
But how many of us truly live life without worry? I fall short of the mark. I worry about a lot of things, just like you. We worry about our loved ones, our jobs, our retirement portfolios, our safety, our health, the health of our animals (that’s a big one for most of us don’t have them insured). The list goes on and on. We worry about the economy and the violence that seems too prevalent in our society. We worry about international politics, climate change, and sea level rise. As people, we worry. But the phrase often heard throughout scripture, whenever God or a representative of God is present, is “do not be afraid.”[2] What would it take for us not to be afraid?
Jesus follows his command not to be afraid with a message of readiness. For some of us, and at a time this included me, Jesus’ return is a reason for worry. When I was in high school, the book, The Late Great Planet Earth, was a best seller, and it seemed frightening. “Give us a little more time, God. Give us a little more time to get our ducks in the row. Let us sin a little more before we make a commitment to you, hopefully right before your glory breaks through the clouds.” Most of us wouldn’t include those concluding remark our prayer, but it’s what we’d be thinking.
As I said, our passage starts out with a wonderful promise from God about how God wants to give us good things, then it’s followed with two stories about the end of time. Our first story is based on a wedding banquet. The slaves await their master’s return so they can open the door for him and welcome him home. This is a positive parable, for those who aren’t dozing find themselves recipients of the master’s hospitality. He’s in a jolly mood after the wedding, so even though he returns in the middle of the night, the master pulls up his gown and ties it off around his waist, like a servant who needs to have freedom of movement to do his tasks. Then he has his slaves sit down and serves them dinner. This is odd behavior. The master, in the middle of the night, assuming the role of a slave in order to serve his servants. Who has ever heard of such a thing? This story, instead of encouraging us to be afraid of the Second Coming, should make us look forward to it. God wants to reward us by serving us. In scripture, the heavenly banquet is often used as a metaphor for the here-after. If we are doing God’s work when he returns (or when he calls us home), we’re promised good things.
The second parable is about a thief coming in the night. This parable is a bit more of a threat, for we are reminded of the uncertainty of when things will happen. Jesus reminds us that if the owner of a house knew when a thief was coming, he or she would remain awake. We’d probably be sitting in a chair, with a good view of the door, with a shotgun across our lap, ready to properly greet the intruder. But since we don’t know when a thief will pay us a visit, we must take precautions. We lock the doors. We latch the windows. We safely store valuables and pay insurance premiums.
These two parables complement each other. In one, we’re told to be awake, to be alert, for the Lord is coming. In other words, we’re told to be busy, doing God’s work. The second parable reminds us that we need to prepare ourselves for we don’t know when our Lord will return.
Okay, you’re thinking. The church has been expectantly waiting for two millennia and Christ hasn’t yet appeared in glory. But I believe he will. Preparing for his coming is paramount. Furthermore, it doesn’t matter if we’ll be the one to see Christ come in the clouds or if we meet him on our deathbed or when we accidently step in front of a dump truck, the time will come that it will be too late. Preparation for our earthly demise is necessary. We’re to make our peace with God so we’ll be justified before the throne on the Day of Judgment. Furthermore, we’re then to use our talents to further God’s glory in the world as we strive to be more Christ-like.
There are two images in this passage worth understanding: girded loins (the loose outer garments tucked in so that they don’t trip up the worker) and burning lamps.[3] Each image reinforces the idea that we must be ready and active. Being a Christian is more than passively accepting Jesus; it requires us to change our lives to be more like him.
What should we take from this passage and apply to our lives today? Sure, we’re reminded, as the cliché goes, to get our ducks in order. We need to make peace with God while there is still time—before the master returns. But we also need to see there is no need to fear the second coming. The coming isn’t seen as a fearful event, but one of excited expectation, of God’s blessings!
The first parable reminds us that we need to be ready to use what God has given us, our talents, to further the master’s work in the world. We’ve all been given talents and skills that we can use to build up the body of Christ, just as we all had different talents yesterday on the job site. Are we ready? Do we put our skills and abilities to use? Or do we sit back with the hope someone else does our part? If we chose the latter, we’re no different than the servants who played around and were not ready for the master’s return. But if we’re doing our part, then we’re promised that when Christ calls us home, we’ll find a place set for us at the table.
Even though these passages encourage us to be alert and active, we need to keep in mind as we do the work of a disciple, we are not buying ourselves into heaven nor are we striving to get a better room in the sweet bye-an-bye. We are called, as Christians, to respond to God’s grace, not to earn it. And we respond to God’s grace by creating a life that honors God and furthers the kingdom’s work in the world. Jesus, our Lord, died for us. He was the obedient servant. Through his sacrifice, our sins are forgiven, and we are freed to go out and work on the behalf of others that they too might come to experience his love. The Christian life is about forgiveness and service. It’s also not worrying about tomorrow, trusting in God’s providence and longing to experience the joy of being in God’s presence.
When things look tough in the world, when we struggle throughout our lives, remember the promise that God wants to give us the kingdom. Amen.
©2019
[1] Psalm 84:10.
[2] This phrase is heard over 70 times in scripture: from God speaking to Abram in Genesis 15:1, to the angels speaking to the shepherds in Luke 2:10, to Jesus addressing John in Revelation 1:17.
[3] Fred Craddock, Luke: Interpretation, A Bible Commentary for Teaching and Preaching (Louisville: John Knox Press, 1990), 165.
J. Philip Newell, Listening to the Heartbeat of God: A Celtic Spirituality (New York: Paulist Press, 1997), 112 pages.
I have some problems with this book, but I’m glad I read it. I did like the last chapter where I found myself in agreement with the author on the need to draw from a broad theological base. He labels these two theological camps for disciples: John (the emotional) and Peter (the rational). While I agree with this,he overstates his case when trying to separate the two camps within church history.
My problem is that Newell sets Augustine theology (along with the Protestant Reformation), in conflict with a more ancient Celtic theology. He grounds Celtic theology in the thoughts of Pelagius (a lay theologian who is thought to have come from the British Isles and declared a heretic by the church in the 5th Century). Augustine was the theologian who challenged Pelagius’ thoughts, especially on free-will and original sin. Little is actually known about Pelagius’ thought outside the response of his opponents (this may well be the case of the winners writing history). In fact, so little is known about Pelagius that makes me wonder about Newell’s claims. He suggests that Pelagius may have come back to the “Celts” after his conflict in Rome, but it appears he traveled on East, where he had a conflict with Jerome who was living in Palestine. Then Pelagius disappears from history.
Newell is correct in pointing out problems with Augustine’s theology, especially linking the fall and original sin, which he saw as being passed on generation to generation through sexual reproduction. Then he sets up a “straw man” by linking Calvin and Calvinist thought to such views. Calvin and others struggled with this concept (See Jane Dempsey Douglass, Women, Freedom & Calvin, chapter 4). Furthermore, while Calvin realized sin was a real issue, he never felt the imago dei was completely wiped away from humans who had been “created in God’s image” (see John Calvin, Institutes, I.15.4 and Charles Partee, The Theology of John Calvin, 126ff.). Newell’s argument rests on his belief that within Augustine/Calvin thought, there is nothing in creation that can help us understand God. That God’s image had been totally purged by sin. While Calvinist thought certainly suggests that because of the fall, we cannot obtain the knowledge of salvation on our own, it also maintains that God has implanted an “awareness of the divinity within the human mind” (Institutes I.3.i) and that the “knowledge of God shines forth in the fashioning of the universe and the continuing government of it” (Institutes I.4).
It is my opinion that Newell sets up a false dichotomy within Calvinistic thought, where the world is seen as totally evil and contrasts this with the Celtic thought where the world was seen as good. The idea of the physical being evil is more of a gnostic idea than Augustine/Calvinistic thought. As I showed in the previous paragraph, Calvin never saw the world as totally evil. Yes, creation is good, but because of our sin, it has been tainted and we can’t fully know God through it. We need to experience the revelation of God in Jesus Christ, which is given to us through the Scriptures.
Newell also conveniently ignores the Calvinistic concept of “common grace,” the idea that God implants grace into all of humanity, even those who are not believers, for the purpose of helping all people. Could not such “common grace” allow everyone to enjoy creation and benefit from it? As Jesus says, it rains on the just and unjust.
Another area that I took issue was the lay centered leadership with Celtic thought verses the clergy leadership of the church. While the clergy certainly dominated the Roman Church, the protestant reformation sought to solve this issue with the concept of “the priesthood of all believers.” This thought balances the power of the laity and the clergy and insists that Jesus is the only priest needed. The clergy/laity separation seems to be another area that Newell is reaching to show the benefits of the Celtic ways. While this would remain true for Roman (and even Anglican) theology, it does not fit with non-Anglican Protestant thought, such as the Presbyterians.
While I agree with Newell in the importance of creation displaying the glory of God’s handiwork, I don’t think the followers of Augustine or Calvin would necessarily disagree. We live in a world that was created and declared good. Yes, as Newell points out, the Celtic ways had ties to pre-Christian beliefs, but that’s not necessarily a problem. You can make the same argument with early Roman Christianity, too.
As for this book, I recommend reading the last chapter, which applies us today. When we strive to work out our own salvation in fear and trembling (Philippians 2:12), we do so by involving the emotional sides of our brains along with the rational side. One final comment, the fear and trembling quote comes from Paul, which I don’t believe Newell even mentions.
At the bottom of the sermon, I have the opening of my pastoral prayer for the day as I reflect on the atrocities our nation experienced yesterday and early this morning in El Paso, Texas and Dayton, Ohio.
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
Galatians 5:13-23
August 4, 2019
This is our last worship experience in the series, “Image the People of God. Today, we’re reflecting on the fruit of our imaginations as we long for the kingdom of God—the family of God—to be fulfilled with good and right relationships. What does it look like to be a community who is “believing, receiving, becoming God’s love,” and who can sing with exuberance, “we are your people, O God!” Our scripture from Galatians provides an image of what this looks like. We’re to make a “loyal commitment” to this vision.[1] Read Galatians 5:13-24.
Did any of you get nervous as the end of a reporting terms approached when you were in school? Be honest. I certainly did. The idea of receiving a report card that had to be signed by parents was troubling, especially if I didn’t do well in a subject. It was even more troubling if I received anything less than a satisfactory mark in conduct. Personally, I never saw anything bad with my conduct, but my teachers had different expectations. It was often reflected with a “needs improvement” or “unsatisfactory” marks on my report card. I’d go home and if I only had a “needs improvement” mark would discover a few new chores. If it was an “unsatisfactory” mark, I’d find myself grounded for six weeks. Maybe Paul’s claim that freedom is not an opportunity for self-indulgence was meant for me.
Our passage today is about the God’s expectation for our lives. Paul provides us with guidance on practical Christian living. Such a life should show the evidence of spiritual fruit that centers on love. Paul begins this section by reminding us that we have been called to be free, but we should not use our freedom for our own self-indulgence. Instead, through love, we become slaves to others. Paul speaks of love as way of looking outward, always wanting what is best for the other person. It may be idealistic, but if we all lived this way, we the world would be a better place. Are we making the world better or worse? What kind of report card would you receive?
Paul draws a comparison between the types of work that come from our own desires and that which shows evidence of God’s Spirit working in our lives. The flesh can lead us down the wrong path, whether it is sexual immorality, idolatry, or creating discord within our communities. We’re to avoid such things, as Paul highlights in verses 16-22. Then, Paul provides a contrasting list of what the fruit of our life in the Spirit should look like: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.
In this series, we’re reminded of our call to use our creativity to become better disciples of Jesus. As a disciple, the end goal isn’t to convert the world (that’s God’s work), but to be witnesses which means exhibiting such characteristics in our lives. If we were to receive a report card from God, it could have these nine items listed. How would we do? Would our grades be high enough to make our parents proud?
Before we get into the individual items, let me suggest that they are to be taken as a whole. We don’t have nine different fruits of the spirit, like you might have apples and pears, bananas and pineapples. Instead, we are to have “fruit of the spirit.”[2] Fruit is singular. And such fruit is witnessed in nine areas within our communal lives. If each of us were living by ourselves, without anyone else, on a deserted island, there would be no need for such fruit and no way to observe if we are fruitful (unless, I suppose, we suffer from a multiple personality disorder). It’s when we come into contact of others that these traits come into play.
Now let’s look at each of these traits. Love: It’s been said that love always implies a personal investment in the object of love.”[3] Your check book probably says more about what you love than anything else. Where do you invest your resources? We experience this in God’s love for us through Jesus Christ. God gave it all. Love is outward focused, not inward. It’s the first of the traits because the love of God and of one another is the summary of the law. If we don’t love, we are not making the grade!
The second trait we should be showing is joy. This is a hard one for we tend to think about joy as the person always smiling and laughing, forgetting the truth of that old Smokey Robinson song, “The Tears of a Clown.” We think of joy when the war is over and everyone celebrates in the street or when your favorite team wins the World Series, but such joy is fleeting. Paul encourages us to have joy even in times of trouble and persecution.[4] Joy is not the absence of something undesirable, but is that which gives us hope that our suffering is not the end.[5] God has something better for us, which is why Paul and Silas could sing hymns when they were in chains after having been beaten.[6] With God as the source and object of our joy, we can be joyous despite disappointments because we know that God got this. Our eternal salvation is secured.
The third trait we’ll show, if we are fruitful, is peace. Again, as with joy, peace is often misunderstood. Without war is what we think peace is, but the Biblical concept is much deeper. Peace has to do with a wholeness within ourselves. It’s a state of mind that keeps us from being overwhelmed when chaos (and war) surrounds us. Peace is an outcome of knowing and trusting God.
The next trait is patience. Again, think about how we often act. We want what we can get as soon as possible. When we want to go to the store or the club or wherever we’re going, and we are impatience when we get behind a slow driver or a driver who’s lost and looking at mailbox numbers. But as a believer, we should take a deep breath. We should realize the source of our frustration, such as the slow driver, may need a break. We don’t know what is going on in his or her life. Besides, what’s the worst that might happen? We’ll be a minute late? Give the person a break and be patient is the Christian response, but one in which many of us struggle.
Kindness goes without saying. Again, God has shown kindness to us and calls us to show kindness and mercy to one another.[7] Kindness helps restore relationships, as God’s kindness demonstrates.[8] We’re taught in Proverbs that the one who shows righteousness and kindness will find life and honor.[9] Proverbs also teaches that kind words will bring life, but cruel words will crush another.[10] Do we show kindness to all?
Next comes generosity. Again, in giving His Son, God has been generous with us, and we are to therefore be generous to one another.
Next is faithfulness. Remember, God has been faithful to us, even when we’ve been unfaithful. Therefore, we should be faithful with one another and not promise that which we will not do. In our world where people get easily offended and then break relationships, we see that faithfulness is in short supply. We need to change this. God stuck with us through thick and thin, and we need to stick with one another.[11]
Gentleness is another godly trait. Remember the parable of the forgiven servant that Jesus taught?[12] The one forgiven a great debt, but then he puts the squeeze on another servant who owed him a minor debt. If God has been gentle with our great indebtedness, then we should be gentle with those who have wronged us. In a way, strength makes gentleness necessary. God could easily crush us, but his gentleness calls for another response. Likewise, we’re to be gentle, especially when we are in positions of power.
Going with gentleness is self-control. Self-control implies the discipline of an athlete; a metaphor Paul uses to describe the Christian faith.[13] We don’t make rash decisions or lash out without thinking about what we’re doing. We don’t hit “Send” to forward an angry email without first sleeping on it. We don’t make obscene hand gestures when someone cuts us off in traffic. We don’t make snide remarks about those who hold different political views to ours. Instead, we show maturity by reining in our emotions and acting responsibly/
We have witnessed God displaying all these traits that make up the “fruit of the Spirit.” Now it’s our turn to learn from life of Jesus and to show such grace to others. Doing so will make this world a better place for all God’s people. Amen.
©2019
[1] “Imagine the People of God” is a series outlined by worshipdesignedstudio.com.
[2] Ronald Y. K. Fung, The Epistle to the Galatians (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1988), 262.
[3] Don. M. Aycock, Living by the Fruit of the Spirit (Grand Rapids: Kregel, 1999), 17.
[4] 1 Thess. 5:16-17, Philippians 1:24.
[5] Philip D. Kenneson, Life on the Vine: Cultivating the Fruit of the Spirit in Christian Community (Downers Grove, IL: Intervarsity Press, 1999), 62.
[6] Acts 16:16ff.
[7] Zechariah 7:9.
[8] Aycock, 69.
[9] Proverbs 21:21.
[10] Proverbs 15:4.
[11] Aycock, 103.
[12] Matthew 18:23-35.
[13] For example, see 1 Corinthians 9:24 and 2 Timothy 4:7.
20190804 Pastoral Prayer
Almighty and most merciful God, we gathered on a beautiful day, but we’re troubled, for we live in a violent world. We’re worried about what is happening to us as a people. The news is frightening with two mass shootings in one day—in Texas and Ohio—followed by other such events this past week in California and Mississippi. On the world stage, protests rage again in Hong Kong and in Moscow. In the Persian Gulf, Iran has captured another oil tanker. Closer to home, we worry about the church and how we’ll survive as fewer people show interest. More and more people don’t see the need of religion in their lives. We worry about our health and the health of loved ones. We worry about the lack of civility in the public square. As we navigate these dangerous and dark times, we need you more than ever. Give us a vision of a world that reflects your values, not ours. Help us to use our minds to creatively work to build a better world, one in which we enjoy the ripe fruit of your Spirit. May we live in a manner that we’ll be part of the solution instead of contributing to the problem. May we live in a manner that will be faithful to our Lord’s calling, until we are called to our true home, where we will be united with you.
Hear our prayers as we pray…
This is another “recycled blog post” from an old blog from my journey from Indonesia to Europe taken during a sabbatical in 2011. I am concentrating on my travel blogs (mostly by train) instead of the others where I was visiting tourist sights. Here I make my way from Malaysia to Thailand.
Question: What is the largest train station ever built that never had train tracks? (answer at the end of my story)
With mixed feelings, I leave Penang behind. I have enjoyed my time here. After a couple of weeks of constant movement around Indonesia and Malaysia, it was nice to slow down for several days. The Hutton Lodge provided excellent accommodations and having Mahen, a blogger friend who lives in Georgetown, Penang, as a guide was a special treat.
Mahen outside of his clinic
Before leaving Georgetown, I spend the morning at Mahen’s clinic where I was able to see first-hand the work they do with children and young adults with cerebral palsy. I got to play with the children and watch as they work to teach a trade to the older children.
selfie from the ferry
By late morning, it was time to head to the ferry. The train was scheduled for 2:20 PM, but the woman who sold me the ticket suggested I be on the ferry to cross the bay by noon. As it turned out, there was only a few minute wait for the ferry and then crossing took only 30 minutes. Once on the other side, I walked by the train station and made sure I knew where I needed to be at, then crossed the tracks and found a place for lunch. There, I talked to one of the few Americans I’d seen on the trip, a recent MBA graduate from Harvard who was traveling in Southeast Asia for a month. We chatted as we at, then we explored some old train equipment, including two old steam trains, in a park by the tracks. Coming back to the train station at 2 PM, a woman working for the Malaysian tourism asks me a bunch of questions about their tourist advertisements and what I liked about Malaysia.
Waiting for the train in Butterworth
From the walkway over the tracks that connects the train station to the ferry terminal
I’m shocked, when the “International” begins to load, that there are only had two cars, both second class sleepers. Even with just two cars, the train is less than half full. I’m alone in my seats, which turns into two single beds at night, with a canvas covering that provides some privacy. Sitting across the aisle as we wait to pull out of the station are two women, sisters, from Penang who were heading north for a wedding. One of them now lives in Hong Kong. We begin talking, but then the conductor informs them they are in the wrong seats and makes them move into the other car. Then, an older Indian couple boarded the train and sat in their compartment. In the seats behind me, an Australian man sits alone and we strike up a conversation.
For much of the afternoon, as we head toward the Thai border, Malaysia work on upgrading their rail system (with plans that the north/south line to be fully double-tracked and electrified) is evident. New trestles are being built, tracks laid and electrical lines strung. These tracks are also a lot smoother than those tracks on Malaysia’s “Jungle Train.”
At the border crossing with the bright “Thai” engine
At the Thai border, we have to leave the train to clear customs. The cars continue on, but the rather plain looking Malaysian engine is replaced with a colorful Thai engine. The staff also changes. Instead of the Malay staff, we now have Thai attendants. All of them wear fancy uniforms with enough stars to create a small galaxy. A car to prepare food is also added. We check out of Malaysia, go through a gate and have our passports stamped for Thailand. The train moves forward a hundred feet or so, into Thailand, where we re-board. As we step into the car, a Thai attendant greets us with cart selling bottles of Singha beer. As a Muslim country, there had been no beer on trains in Malaysia. But now we’re in Thailand, beer is readily available.
After leaving the border, I join Allen, the man from Australia, and two Japanese men who are sitting across the aisle from Allen. We take turns buying large bottles of beer and pouring them into glasses, serving each other. The Japanese speak only broken English, but we are able to communicate. When they take orders for dinner, we all have pork, which was unavailable in Malaysia, it being a Muslim country. I have pork with noodles with oyster sauce, which was delicious.
Allen and I talk through much of the evening. An Australian, he retired to Tasmania. Most of his life was spent in the military. He’d joined the British army as soon as he was eligible (his mother signed for him at 16). He was originally from Great Britain, just south of Scotland. After seeing action in Yemen and in Malaysia in the mid-1960s, he transferred to the Australian army where he spent most of his military career. He even spent a year in the United States, in the late 60s, training American Non-Commissioned Officers for jungle warfare. He served three tours in Vietnam as well as in Malaysia (there was an undeclared war between Malaysia and Indonesia on Borneo in the 60s and 70s). He’s well-read and we discussed books (we’d read many of the same), theology, government and health care, world politics, our families and the weather (it was a 23 hour train ride). Allen takes off for a few months every winter (remember, he lives in the southern hemisphere) and travels in Southeast Asia.
Allen has a lot to say about Vietnam and his experiences there. He’s critical of American forces (noting that our military is more disciplined now than then). Then, he confessed that most Australians in Vietnam didn’t like working with American units. The Australian units had jungle warfare experiences in Malaysia, and were more prepared for Vietnam. He told of once incident on his last tour in 1971. His squad had been in an ambush position for a day, waiting. He said that in the jungle it was hard to hear and to see very far and that his troops knew to wait till an enemy force was all in the killing zone (set up between two machine guns, before opening fire. If the enemy unit was too large (more than 18 men), they’d let it pass, but if smaller, they’d attack. A unit came into their trap, talking loudly. In the jungle, they couldn’t make out the words or even the language. It was assumed, because of where they were at, it was a Vietcong (VC) unit. He was also critical of the VC, saying they were no more disciplined than American soldiers. As the leader, it was his job to detonate the claymore mines as a signal for everyone to open fire. But seconds before he blew the mines, one of his machine gunners yelled, “Hold the fucking fire.” He was shocked, but the machine gunner was in position to have a good look of the last soldiers in the unit, a 6 ½ foot tall African-American. He could have been basketball player, as his head stuck up over the grass. The machine gunner realized this wasn’t a VC unit at all, and his yell saved 13 American lives.
As bad as Vietnam was, he said it didn’t compare to his short stint in Yemen with the British army early in his career. His time there makes him feel for the soldiers in Afghanistan, who are fighting a determined enemy who believes they’re on God’s side.
Thai train attendant
At about ten o’clock, the train attendant lowers our beds. We all head off to sleep. Across from me, the Indian couple who, especially for their age, are having a good time. The canvas covers over the sleeping areas don’t dampen the sound. Sometime in the night. after the Indian couple quiet down, , I feel the train bumping around and in the morning, there are no longer just two passenger cars, but a dozen or so. The morning also brings a different view as the mosques and minarets of Malaysia have been replaced with colorful Buddhist temples and chimneys for crematoriums of Thailand. The tracks are not as smooth as they were in Malaysia, showing their age as we pass over them.
I join Allen and the two Japanese for breakfast. For 100 baht, I get some fruit, coffee, juice and a ham sandwich. While we eat, we whisper about what must have been going on in the Indian couple’s compartment. Everyone heard them. No one is sure of their age, but we all are impressed. As we approach Bangkok, the stations become closer together and towns are larger. We pass over canal after canal, making our way on toward the city’s center, pulling into the station just a few minutes late.
At Hau Lampong, the Bangkok main train station, I say our goodbyes to my Japanese friends and Allen and I depart ways. Then I realize I am not sure where I’m going and can’t believe that I didn’t write down directions to Sam’s Lodge, where I have reservations. I find an internet café and log into my gmail account to get the directions—which are rather easy: just find the subway, go four stops and get off at Sukhumvit, leave the subway at exit three, walk to the corner and take a left… I stop to eat lunch and am at the hotel by 2 PM, where I drop my luggage off and set out to explore around Bangkok.
Answer: The majestic Georgetown train station on the island of Penang never had a train make it’s way to the station. The trains always ran through Butterworth, on the Malaysian mainland. But the British did a wonderful job in designing this building on the Georgetown waterfront:
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
Romans 12:1-3
July 28, 2019
Have you ever felt like you’re taking two steps forward and one step back? Sometimes life’s that way. It’s like climbing a cinder cone volcano. The ground is made of ash and is so unstable that you literally take two steps up and then slide back. You just hope to make progress. A 700-foot climb can take forever. But isn’t that how much of life is?
Today, we’re talking about transformation. It’s not something we do suddenly and then put it on the shelf. Yes, our salvation (our justification) is ensured in our faith in Jesus Christ, but our lives are to be continually transformed until, in the next life, we are completely sanctified.[1] Sanctification is still a ways off (for most of us), but just as I kept my eyes on the rim of that volcano, we must keep our eye on the goal, Jesus Christ.
My text today comes from Paul’s letter to the Romans, chapter 12, the first three verses. I’ll reading these from The Message translation. I encourage you to compare this with your own Bibles or a pew Bible. The Message translation is a bit wordy, but provides a clearer insight into Paul’s intention.
I hope you liked the video, “Harold and the Purple Crayon.” Young Harold was able to create his own world, and, to an extent, so are we. Harold had a purple crayon. We have faith in a God of Creation, in a Savior of the World, and in the presence of the Holy Spirit. We’re called to transform. Are we up to the task?
I often pound the point that salvation isn’t just a scheme to get us into heaven; we’re created and redeemed for a nobler task. We’re to love God by responding to his call to be his people in the world. As God’s chosen people, Paul writes to the Corinthians, we have hope which should lead us to act with boldness.[2] We are to be about transformation of ourselves into Christ’s likeness. And we’re to be transforming the world, striving to make it more like the kingdom of God. This transformation means that because we have experienced grace, we should be gracefully striving to change the world for the better. And it starts here, within the church. As one of the founding documents of the Presbyterian Church maintains, we are to exhibit the kingdom of God.[3]
Cynthia Rigby, a Presbyterian and a theology professor at Austin Seminary, puts it this way: “Presbyterian theology upholds both the value of believing right now and the importance of reflecting seriously on what we believe, so we can participate more fully in the faith that is our inheritance.”[4] Such reflection is what Paul refers to here at the beginning of the 12th Chapter of Romans. Instead of us surrendering to worldly standards, we are to hold up a vision of a more just and holy world.
John Calvin, in his commentary on Romans, notes that Paul makes a shift at the beginning of the 12th chapter. Coming into this point in his letter, Paul has been dealing with those things necessary for the kingdom, “that righteousness is to be sought from God alone, that salvation is to come to us alone from his mercy, that all blessings are laid up and daily offered to us in Christ only…” Paul then changes his focus to show us how the Christian life is to be formed.[5]
Paul’s transition here is from theology to ethics. Simply stated, theology deals with God and what God is up to and how we are to relate to the Almighty. Ethics is how we live, how we relate to one another. According to Paul, our ethics are not grounded in God’s law, but in our gracious response of gratitude for God’s grace.[6]
Paul tells us in Verse 1 to sacrifice ourselves to God, but not because we are trying to earn God’s favor. This is one of Paul’s big points: “We’re saved by grace” and we’re to respond to that grace with obedience.[7]
Eugene Peterson, who translated The Message version of scripture that we read this morning, makes it clear that what we give to God isn’t just our “church work.” We offer it all: “sleeping, eating, going-to-work, and walking-around life…” We embrace what God does for us; which is the best thing we can do for ourselves.
Verse two is the focal point of the change in direction that Paul takes in the letter. “Do not be conformed to this world,” as it’s often translated, “But be transformed by the renewing of your minds, so that you may discern what is the will of God.”[8] Let me suggest that Paul’s admonishment “not to be conformed to the world” is a lot easier to say than it is to do. We’re surrounded by attempts to mold and to shape us in the ways of the world. Our friends and peers constantly make suggestions that we should do this or that. And it doesn’t stop there. We’re constantly bombarded by advertisements and marketing ploys telling us to try this or that, to buy these items, to vote this way. The hidden promise in this rhetoric is that if we just try what is offered, we’ll be happy, but such messages never live up to their promises. We accumulate more and more and are often less and less happy. Jesus asks, “What will it profit us if we gain the world and forfeit our lives?”[9]
Instead of letting the world shape our thoughts and actions, we’re to renew our minds by focusing on God. In John Ortberg’s book, the me I want to be (which I believe our Serendipity class studied a few years ago), we’re reminded of the power of a habit and how our thought patterns are as habitual as brushing our teeth.[10] Ever wonder why someone always sees trouble ahead and always criticizes, while another person sees an opportunity and is excited about the future? Or thought about why one person is always grouchy and another cheerful? Or why one sees a glass half-empty and another half-full? We have habitually trained ourselves to be a certain way by what our minds focus on.
In Colossians, Paul encourages us to focus our minds on things above, not earthly things.[11] If we train our minds to listen to God’s Word, to look for evidence of God’s hand in the world, we’re going to feed our minds an incredible diet that has the power to change how we think. Likewise, if we always see problems and always feel persecuted and beaten down, we’re also feeding our minds a rich diet and we’re going be bitter. And no one will want to be around us!
Paul isn’t suggesting here that we have an instant change, that all of a sudden go from being Eeyore to Winnie the Pooh, from being a sourpuss to the life of the party, from being depressed to hopeful. We’re to “be transformed.” Transformation implies a process. We don’t create habits overnight, so we can’t recreate new and better habits overnight.[12] Transformation isn’t a one-time change; it’s something that requires time and effort. When we fail, we shouldn’t beat ourselves up, but learn from our failures and ask God’s forgiveness and help as we move forward, toward that goal of being more and more Christ-like and less and less like the world.
We need to embark on an effort to renew our minds. We need to drink deeply from the Scriptures as we read and study the Bible, individually and in groups. We need to ask God’s Spirit to guide, fill and help us learn to discern what God is doing in the world and how we can be a part of it. But we can’t just stop there. We’re not just to read the scriptures, we’re to “do something.” We practice living the life Jesus demonstrated. Unfortunately, as John Ortberg whom I quoted earlier, notes, we often debate doctrine and beliefs, tradition and interpretation, than do what Jesus said… “It’s easier to be smart than to be good.”[13]
We read God’s words, we learn God’s nature by discussing the Word with others, and we apply it to our lives… Read, Learn and Apply. Don’t be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your minds so that you may discern the will of God. Amen.
©2019
[1] Protestant theology tends to separation justification, which is a onetime event, and sanctification, which continues through this lifetime and is complete in the resurrection.
[2] 2 Corinthians 3:12.
[3] This is from the “Great Ends of the Presbyterian Church, adopted by the United Presbyterian Church of North America and is now a part of our Book of Order, F-1.0401.
[4] Cynthia L. Rigby, “Jesus is the Way: Presbyterian Theology Affirms the Uniqueness of Christ,” Presbyterians Today (June 2011), 11.
[5] John Calvin, Commentaries on the Epistle of Paul the Apostle to the Romans, Rev. John Owen, translator (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1948), 449.
[6] The New Interpreter’s Study Bible (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 2003), 2028 n12:1-8.
[7] Ephesians 2:5, 8
[8] Romans 12:2a, New Revised Standard Version
[9] Matthew 16:26, Mark 8:36, Luke 9:25
[10] John Ortberg, the me I want to be: becoming God’s best version of you (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2010), 91.
[11] Colossians 3:2
[12] For insight into this, see Charles Duhigg, The Power of Habit: Why We Do What We do In Life and Business (New York: Random House, 2014).
[13] Ortberg, 112-112
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
Philippians 2:1-11
July 21, 2019
In her book, Sailboat Church, Joan Gray writes: “the church’s divine nature is not always easy to see. Sometimes it takes great faith to believe that the church as we know it is the body of Christ. Sin is all too evident in our midst.” Sounds depression, doesn’t it? But Gray continues, assuring us it’s God’s way as she continues: “the church was never meant to be a group of holy people who are in themselves morally superior to everyone else.”[1] Got that? We in the church are not necessarily morally superior. We, too, sin. Let’s remember that Jesus taught us to pray in this manner: forgive our sins as we forgive the sins of others.[2]
Let me say something that might be a bit controversial. Sin abounds within the church, within Christ’s body on earth. I used to think we should try to root it out, but I no longer do. Instead, maybe we should learn from the parable of the weeds and the wheat, and not risk rooting out the weeds less we also damage the wheat.[3] It’s inevitable that there will be sin in the church and that’s okay if we are compassionate. The church would cease to exist if it only consisted of perfect people. We’d be out of business in a flash! But if we truly realize that we’ve been saved, not by ourselves but by a loving Savior, then we should be both compassionate and loving toward others. And that gives us our reason for being.
Today, in our second week of “Imaging the People of God,” we are looking at compassion. Just as God is compassionate, we too must be compassionate. Our text this week is from the second chapter in Paul’s letter to the Philippians. It’s a very familiar passage, especially starting with verse six, where Paul begins a beautiful hymn to Christ. Today, while we will end with that hymn, we’re going to focus on the first five verses. Read Philippians 2:1-11 from The Message.
I wonder what our life of faith might look like if we, instead of referring to God as love, referred to God as compassionate. Both are correct. God is love, but in the English language, the word “love” has lost much of its power. As many of you, I’m sure, know, the Greeks had several words for love, erotic love, brotherly love, and compassionate love. We only have one word for love and apply that word too many things. We can love our spouse, our children, a sport team, a car, a sunset, good ice cream, a pair of shoes, a song on the radio… The list continues.
It’s often pointed out that “love” should be a verb. It should lead us to action toward that for which we have affection. It’s not just a static or emotional feeling, but is something that manifested itself in action for the wellbeing of the other. In that way, it’s like compassion, being moved to work for the benefit of the other. God is compassionate as shown in sending us his Son, to offer the human race a chance to free itself from the muck which keep us stuck and bogged down in sin. Those of us who have experienced this compassion from God are to show such compassion to others.
The word compassion, in English, implies an awareness of another’s distress, with a desire to help alleviate that distress in some manner. It has a deeper theological meaning, as it is linked to God’s actions. In the New Testament, the word compassion is used to describe Jesus or, used by Jesus to refer to God. Paul is the one who makes the link between the compassion of God, as we see in revelation of God in Jesus Christ, to our own call to be compassionate.[4]
A modern writer defines compassion as “the knowledge that there can never really be any peace and joy for me until there is peace and joy finally for you too.”[5] Compassion is not just us being emotionally troubled by the plight of others; it’s us doing what we can alleviate their plight.
Paul begins this section of his letter to the Philippians with a series of “if” clauses. This repetitiveness is tricky to translate, for we often use “if” to imply a dream. “If only this was real.” “If only this had happened…” But Paul’s use of the conditional cause doesn’t demonstrate a lack of certainty. Paul uses this litany of clauses to drive home a point. “If you believe this and if it’s made a difference in your life as it has in mine, then do this!” “If you have gotten anything out of following Christ, being in his Spirit-filled community, if you have a heart or an ounce of care, then you should act in this way.” Verse one is the lead up to how we should live as disciples, which is covered in verses 2 – 5.
- We’re of one mind with each other.
- We’re to love each other.
- We don’t step on others.
- We’re humble.
- We put aside ourselves so that we can work for the well-being of others.
I love (there’s that word again) how The Message translates verse four: “Forget yourself long enough to lend a helping hand.” Paul’s talking about compassion. And then he drives this home as he tells us to be like Christ, the compassionate one. Starting with verse sixth, Paul appears to be quoting an early church hymn about Christ and he encourages us to imitate Christ’s compassion and humility. Instead of pushing and shoving and demanding that we get our “fair-share,” we’re to be Christ-like which means we lower ourselves in order to help others. In difficult situations, humility helps de-escalate tension.
You know, our lives tell a story. Whether we like it or not, how we live, what we care for, how we treat others, where we invest our talents and money, all combine to tell our story. As followers of Christ, our story will either compel others to check out our faith or it will repel them. If we realize this, it’s important that we strive to live in a way that will honor Jesus and show our trust in the Almighty. And that means to live compassionately. As one writer commented on this, “It’s not wise to name yourself as a Christian unless you are actually embodying the way of Messiah Jesus.”[6]
How might we be compassionate? We can look at the life of Jesus and live as he did? Or we might think of some of our contemporaries. Since last Sunday, we have lost a good one, a compassionate man. Jim Fendig was humble and soft spoken and concerned for others. And there are others like him within our community.
As I tried to make clear earlier, compassion is more than just feeling bad for someone else. Compassion is feeling the empathy, and then going the extra mile to do something. We can look at someone disabled and struggling to get inside a building and feel bad for them. But that’s not compassion. Compassion is running up and holding the door for them. We can feel bad for the children separated from their families and locked in, at best, marginally sufficient detention centers. But that’s not compassion. Compassion involves advocating a change in policy or supporting those who are able or attempting to provide relief. We can feel sorry for someone who sits at home alone and lonely every day. But that’s not compassion. Compassion is picking up the phone and calling, or visiting, or taking them out for coffee. We can feel sorry for a person who is being bullied or picked on because he or she is different. But that’s not compassion. Compassion is befriending and standing up for the unloved, the bullied, and the marginalized.
Compassion goes beyond just feeling. It requires action. Last week, we saw how God has given us the gift of imagination. We’re to use this gift. Imagination helps us know how we might respond compassionately. We will not be able to solve every problem. I can’t cure cancer, but I can walk beside that person who is battling the disease. We might not be able to perform miracles, but we can do something to make the situation better.
Compassion is the way of Jesus; it’s how we reflect his face to the world. Amen.
©2019
[1] Joan S. Gray, Sailboat Church: Helping Your Church Rethink Its Mission and Practice (Louisville: Westminster/John Knox Press, 2014), 24.
[2] Matthew 6:12, Luke 11:4.
[3] Matthew 13:24ff.
[4] Andrew Purves, The Search for Compassion: Spirituality and Ministry (Louisville: Westminster/John Knox Press, 1989), 15-16.
[5] Frederick Buechner, Wishful Thinking: A Theological ABC (New York: Harper & Row, 1973), 15.
[6] Charlie Peacock, Following Jesus in a New Way (Colorado Springs, CO: WaterBrook Press, 2004), 93.
A lot of students have fantasies of having teachers locked up. For my 5th grade teacher, it wasn’t a fantasy, it was a horrific experience. As a Marine embassy guard in China, which was behind enemy lines when the war began, he spent the entirety of the 2nd World War as a POW. This is a review of a book he later wrote about this experiences.This review originally appeared in my other blog and has been slightly edited.
The author as an embassy guard in China.
Chester M. Biggs, Behind the Barbed Wire (1995, Jefferson, NC: McFarland & Co, 2011), 224 pages, some photos and maps.
On the morning of December 8, 1941, the Marine guards at the American consulate in Peiping (Beijing), China woke up behind enemy lines. Overnight (on the other side of the International Date Line), the Japanese had attacked Pearl Harbor. The Japanese had invaded China several years earlier and the American consulates in China were now inside territory held by the Japanese army. Although it was a tense situation in the Far East and war was not out of the question, the Marines were caught unaware. They were in the process of packing up and were days away from being withdrawn from China (many of the military members and diplomats of other consulates such as Britain had already been withdrawn). As the war began, the ship sailing to North China to pick up the Marines turned south and those left behind were prisoners of war. They would spend the entire war as POWs. One of these Marines, PFC Chester Biggs, the author of this book, was also my fifth grade teacher. Mr. Biggs would spend 20 years in the Marine Corp (1939-1959). The latter half of his life he spent in education. And, until his death, he would spend time teaching and answering questions at the Special Forces POW classes taught at Fort Bragg. He died in December 2011 at the age of 90.
The book begins by describing the events of December 8, 1941. Only hours before the Marines awoke, Japan attacked Pearl Harbor. The Marines have no idea what is happening or that the day meant war. The Japanese surround the compound, disarm the sentries and forced their surrender. Biggs, a young man of 20, finds himself as a POW. The next two chapters, Biggs describes life in Peiping before the war. China had been at war with Japan for years and the area of the consulate had been securely controlled by the Japanese. The situation in the countryside, where there were Chinese guerrillas fighting the Japanese, was tense and movement by American personnel there was limited. However, inside the city, where there was quite large contingent of foreigners, life continued as normal. Peiping, at least in the international section, was a cosmopolitan city with Europeans, Russians and Americans living there. During this time, there were fancy parties and even premiers for movies such as “Gone with the Wind.” There were some tension with Japanese soldiers, but with the exception of a few incidents, it appears much was done on both sides remain calm. After the one incident, US military personnel were restricted to a few clubs near the compound.
At first, after the surrender, the main change that the Marines noticed was a loss of freedom of movement, the loss of their Chinese workers (they had Chinese laborers that did many of their task from laundry to shoeshines to manicures) and a reduction in food. Even though they were confined to the compound, one Marine who had girlfriend in the city slipped out and then came back undetected. The NCOs tried to impress upon the Marines of the serious of such actions, but two others slipped out and were caught. Although the Japanese had said anyone caught attempting to escape would be shot, they were not. As Biggs noted, the Japanese could and would be brutal, but their behavior wasn’t always consistent, and at times they surprised everyone. At the end of January 1942, the Marines in Peiping were transferred to Tientsin and were later transferred to a POW camp near Shanghai. Before the transfer, the Japanese allowed a Marine from Tientsin to marry his English fiancé before they were moved to Shanghai. During Christmas 1942, the Japanese allowed an American restaurateur who ran a famous establishment in the city to prepare a Christmas dinner for the POWs. This was the last great meal they enjoyed. Before the next Christmas, all expats in the city including this man were confined to concentration camps by the Japanese.
At first the Marines who had been on diplomatic duty were hopeful they would be exchanged and freed. The diplomats in China were exchanged six months into the war. Such hope began to wane as they were placed into a POW camp in Shanghai that included Marines and civilian contractors from Wake Island and British sailors on a ship captured in a Chinese port at the beginning of the war among others. Interestingly, in 1943, they were joined by Italian Marines stationed in China. As a part of the Axis powers, they we left alone. But once Italy surrendered and declared war on Germany, members of the Italian military in China found themselves as POWs bunking with Americans and British POWs. In the Shanghai area, the Marines were held in two different camps. They were worked hard and the Japanese capturers could be incredible brutal. The POWs did what they could to keep their spirits up and Biggs tells many incredible and sometimes humorous stories of survival and endurance. There was even a radio which provided a little news of the war (which was spread via rumor for no one was to know about the radio).
In 1945, the POWs were locked into rail cars and shipped north and then down through Korea. Their travel was hard. In Pusan, they were placed on a ship bound for southern Japan. Once on Japanese soil, they were shipped by train north. Although they could see only a little (the Japanese had covered the windows of the trains) there were enough cracks through which they realized the devastation done to Japanese cities from American bombings. They knew the war couldn’t last much longer. The Marines were taken north, to Hokkaido, where they were put working inside coal mines. This was brutal work and from the book I have the sense it was the worse time of Biggs’ entire imprisonment. The Americans were split up and sent to smaller camps where they worked in teams with a Korean miner underground. After the Japanese surrender, the POWs stayed at the camp as American planes dropped supplies. It was well into September that Biggs had his first airplane flight in his life as he was being moved from Hokkaido to Yokohama. However, bad weather forced the plane to turn back. He would later take a ship south and then on to Guam where the POWs were seen by doctors and navy intelligence officers who record their experiences. From Guam, they were flown across the Pacific, with stops for hospital visits at Honolulu (to be checked for infectious diseases and parasites) and then on to a hospital in San Francisco.
Mr. Biggs was 18 when he left his home in Oklahoma for the Marine Corps training base in San Diego. He was 24 when he returned home on an extended leave after having been a POW for over 3 ½ years. I found this book to be well written and to give great detail of everyday life in a POW camp. I wish I had read it while Mr. Biggs was still alive.
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
July 14, 2019
Ephesians 3:14-21
There’s an old story about a pastor making a hospital call with a man who’d been in a terrible accident. The doctors said he’d never walk again. The pastor, along with everyone, else believed the doctors. There was no way his legs could ever again support the man’s weight. But the pastor was berated by the man to pray he’d regain the use of his legs. Being sensitive to the situation, he didn’t want to get the man’s hopes up. But after enough nagging, the pastor finally prayed, asking that the man’s legs be healed. When the prayer was over, the man slid over to the edge of the bed, threw his legs off the side, and sat up. Then he stood and walked out into the hall. It was a miracle. Once, back in his car, the pastor, who felt he had egg on his face, had a long talk with God. “Don’t you ever do that to me again,” he said.
Are we like that? Are we closed to the possibilities of what God might do through us? Are we resistant to the abilities of Almighty God, who can do more than can imagine? Perhaps, like the man in the story, we want to keep God hidden, focusing on ourselves, even though we don’t (by ourselves) have the ability to do miracles? But, you know, when we don’t care who gets the credit, great things can happen. And if it is happening with God, even greater things can happen.
Such healing stories are few and far between in our modern world. But not in the 3rd world. Ever talked with missionaries about the miracles they’ve experienced? It’s as if we have placed all our hope in science and in our advanced society, but those who don’t have the technology only hope is with God. And God often shows up.
We have been created in God’s image, given power to participate with God in the re-creation of the church. We should trust God to help us in this endeavor as we seek to use our creative powers to build a better world. Our reading today is from Paul’s letter to the church in Ephesus, Chapter 3, verses 14 to 21…
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When we moved back to North Carolina in 1966, my parents brought a house on an acre of land. At that time, there was only a little grass and the only shrubs were in front of the house. There was lots of white sand. But my dad had a vision. He brought a few azaleas of various sizes and colors. Some were the large Rhododendron types and others small bushes that came in a variety of colors. From these plants, he began to root azaleas. Out in the back of the yard, under one of the longleaf pines, he nursed these plants in cans till they were large enough to be transplanted into beds. Slowly, as these beds grew, there was less and less lawn. By the time I left home, ten years later, instead of having an acre to mow, it was less than a half-acre. By the time my younger brother left, there was even less yard to mow. I think it was my father’s intention—to have the yard of a manageable size before he ran out of child labor.
But that wasn’t the point of his obsession with azaleas. During the spring, for about three weeks, my parent’s yard was a sight to see. It was the envy of the neighborhood. Mixed into the beds of azaleas were camellias and dogwoods, creating a colorful delight for the eyes.
Paul, in our passage, speaks of us being rooted and grounded in love. Being rooted is an agricultural metaphor.[1] To root an azalea, you take a small limb or branch from an established plant and ground it in new soil, keeping it damp until the sprig begins to spout roots and forms a new plant. Here, Paul is referring to us being taken out of the world and, with love, being transformed into a new creation within the church. This new creation should be like rich soil where the plant can take root. Paul suggests that just as a gardener will have a vision about what’s to be, God has a vision for who we are to be. A beautiful vision!
Our reading from the Apostle Paul’s letter to the church in Ephesus is a prayer. Paul prays his brothers and sisters in Ephesus will find strength in God’s spirit and that Christ might dwell in their hearts through faith rooted and grounded in love.
Love is the key to this relationship. In a book titled Love, Medicine and Miracles, Doctor Bernie Siegel writes: “I am convinced that unconditional love is the most powerful known stimulant of the immune system… the truth is that love heals.”[2] Here is a medical doctor who has spent years studying medicine, yet he acknowledges the importance of love in healing.
By the way, this isn’t the only place where Paul emphasizes the importance of love. Yesterday, in the Men’s Saturday morning Bible Study, we looked at 1 Corinthians 13, which is known as the love chapter. There, Paul is insisting that the various factions within the Corinthian Church love one another. God loves us, as shown in Jesus Christ, and we are to love one another. It’s as simple as that. Even Sigmund Freud, who isn’t known for his Christian sympathies, said that we must love in order that we will not fall, and if we can’t love, illness will take over us.[3]
If we create a community that really loves and cares for people, we’ll witness people being restored and healed, body and soul. Granted, not every illness will be beaten. We have to be honest and admit that one day we will all die. But until then, we should be loving and supportive of one another. If so, our lives will be more beautiful and much happier and healthier. This is what God wants for us. This is what the church needs to offer the world. It’s a creative vision often ignored these days.
In the 20th verse, Paul appeals to “him who by the power at work in us is able to accomplish abundantly far more than we can ask or image.” This is a wonderful attribute of God: the ability to do more for us than we can ever imagine. Again, God is like a landscaper who can look at barren piece of land and image a lush garden.
Maybe we, as Christians, need to do more daydreaming about what it means to be the people of God. That’s what this four week study is about. God has endowed in us an ability to image new worlds. But are we willing to join with God in creating them? Or do we limit God by our own lack of imagination. We need to free God to work miracles in our lives, within our congregation and community and within our world. If we trust God, and ground ourselves in agape love, which is the type of love that calls us to work for the best of others, there’s no limit to what might be accomplished. If we trust in God’s power and are willing to creatively join God in working for a better world, there is no telling what might come out of our efforts. But if we act like things depend on what we can do and have no imagination, we risk a dark dystopia future.
Following the promise of what God can do for us, Paul ends with a benediction. A direct translation of what Paul says is simple as we have in verse 21 of the New Revised Standard Version. Although short and simple, the meaning is fuller as The Message translates demonstrates:
Glory to God in the church!
Glory to God in the Messiah, in Jesus!
Glory down all the generations!
Glory through all millennia! Oh yes!
Friends, God created us in the divine image and gave us the gift of imagination. How will you use your gift? Will you use your imagination to build a better world? Will you use your imagination to build better relationships with estranged family members and with neighbors you may not have met? Will you use your imagination to help us build a stronger and more vibrant congregation? The strategic planning the Session is engaging in this. We’ll need not just your God-inspired vision, but your commitment to help bring it about. Use your imagination to build a better community.
The Israelites in exile were told to seek the wellbeing of the community in which they were living and we’re to do the same.[4] What would it take to re-create Savannah into a community with top-notch schools and business opportunities, where the absence of gunfire at night is noticeable? And while you are working with your imagination, what might our world looked like if we treated everyone with dignity and honor?
If we have, as Paul prays, been rooted and grounded in love, with Christ dwelling in our hearts, we should be about imagining a better world. But don’t stop with daydreaming. For God created us in his image and calls us to work with him to carry out the divine mission. We are saved for God’s work in the world, and each of us are given abilities to fulfill our own calling. What abilities has God given you and how might you creatively use them? Amen.
©2019
[1] Ralph P. Martin, Ephesians, Colossians, and Philemon (Atlanta: John Knox Press, 1991), 45.
[2] As quoted by Walter J. Burghardt, S.J., “Love Heals,” The Living Pulpit (April-June 1997), 30. From Love, Medicine & Miracles, 181, xii.
[3] Sigmund Freud, “On Narcissism,” as quoted in The Living Pulpit (April-June 1997), 31.
[4] Jeremiah 29:7.
Later in the morning
This post is from an older blog of mine from when I was on a Sabbatical and traveled overland trip from Southeast Asia to Europe. As much as possible, I traveled by trains.
We pull out of Singapore’s Tangong Pager Railway Station right on time, promptly at 4:30 AM. As we board the train, a Malaysian official stamps our passports. The train slowly moves through the dark city that’s not yet ready to come to life, the coaches swaying back and forth on the tracks. In two more weeks, this train will cease to exist. Everything is dark. I think back to the day before when I visited the station to see it in daylight. It’s a grand station, like many built in the early 20th Century. It was still young and in its prime when the Japanese invaded. Yesterday, I spoke with an old Chinese man who had come to see the station one more time, while the trains were still running. He told me about being an older child when the Japanese forced all the Chinese into the station and several other places around the city. Then soldiers came and randomly selected people and forced them to march to the beach, where they were shot and left for the tides to claim.
Murals within the station
I arrived by cab at the station around 3:30 A.M. It was still dark, but the front door was open. The great hall was dark, but people had already started to gather, so I found a seat on one of the wood benches and waited, trying to catch a bit more sleep. At 4 A.M. the lights come on and I notice the large murals of rural Malaya life that lines the walls. All this was build when Malaya was a British colony and Singapore was just another city. But as the British pulled out, Singapore established itself as a separate country. I buy a water bottle and some snacks from a vendor and then, once the gates to the tracks are open, head over and join the line. The Malaysian official by the gate wastes no time checking documents and asks no questions as he stamps our passports. We’re sent out into the humid heat of early morning. I walk down the platform, under the hanging railroad clock that no longer works, to the five waiting coaches. These cars are attached to a power car that’s billowing diesel fumes as it provides electricity and air conditioning for the coaches. As of yet, there are no locomotives. I hop aboard, seeking relief from the heat, and find my seat. A few minutes later, we’re jarred as the locomotive is coupled to the train. Shortly afterwards, we leave and weave our way through the city.
The lights are dim and I’m about to nod off, when we abruptly stop and the lights come on. We’re told to get off. It’s only been twenty minutes or so since we started and I’d forgotten about this stop. We’re at Woodlands, on the far side of the island at the causeway and we have to go through immigration. Starting July 1, 2011, this is where the train will begin as the tracks through Singapore will be removed and the land used for development. We’re told we can leave our luggage behind (I still take my daypack) and shuffle out onto the brightly lighted platform and lineup behind the yellow line waiting to meet with the official. I scan the crowds. There is only one other western couple that I pick out, a Brit and his wife who live in Singapore. They are in the line for Singapore residents. Our entry cards for Singapore are taken and our passports checked and stamped. We then circle back around and re-board. It’s interesting that Malaysia stamped our passports at the Singapore station, before we get to the border, and we’re officially “checked out of Singapore” here.
The jungle rivers are all brown from silt
As soon as we’re onboard, the roar of the diesel is heard as we’re pulled across the causeway. The docks along the shoreline here light up the night air. We move slowly and shortly after reaching the mainland, we stop again, in Johor Bahru, Singapore’s sister city on the mainland. More people board the train.
In preparation for this trip, I had read Colonel Masanobu Tsuji’s account of the Malaya campaign in 1941—42. He was the staff office in charge of operations for the Japanese and after the war wrote an account of the Japanese planning and execution of this invasion in a book that was translated into English in the 1960s. Japan’s Greatest Victory: Britain’s Worst Defeat tells how the Japanese army was able to quickly move down the Malaya peninsula, using cheap Japanese bicycles on the excellent British roads, never allowing the much larger British force time to set up a defense line. When they reached Johor Bahru, the Japanese command set up offices in the Sultan’s Palace, an exposed position, but one that gave them the best view of the vast island that was their objective. From here, they directed their armies in their operations to break through Singapore’s defenses. Britain had felt that they could easily defend the island (just blow up the causeway), but their defenses were mostly on the seaward side. They were caught surprised by a fast moving Japanese army. Only when the Japanese got to this point was Britain able to slow their march, as they turn their big sea-facing guns around and used them to bombard the Japanese positions.
It’s raining as the train pulls out of Johor Bahru. I make myself comfortable, putting a pillow up against my window and fall asleep. I wake up an hour later, at Kluang. A crowd of people are boarding the train and a Malaysian man sits next to me and soon there are a dozen children crowding in around us. The man and his brother are traveling with their families and their kids range from about five to fourteen. The older children collaborate in translation and throughout the trip. Their father moves to another seat, allowing each of the children opportunity to sit a next to me. The older ones practice their English, the younger ones play silly games, always laughing and smiling. I show the pictures of my family. Wishing to have more photos, I pull out my netbook and show them photos on the computer. Other adults in the surrounding seats ahead of me turn around to see and all seem amazed at the photographs of my daughter skiing. Living near the equator, these children can’t imagine snow.
Old turntable in Gemas
The train makes a long stop at Gemas, where they change engines. It’s just a small town and doesn’t appear on my Southeast Asia map. But it was an important town for the Japanese to capture in the Malaya campaign. The town is a railroad crossroads and securing the town cut Butterworth, Penang and Kula Lampur’s land connection to Singapore. There’s a lot of work going on the tracks here as KLM, the Malaysian Railroad, is building a doubled-track electric line all the way from the Thai border to Gemas. The Northeast Line (which I am riding) will continue to use diesel electric locomotives (I’m told the ones we’re currently using are built in India). The train consists only of coaches. There is no dining car and I’m glad I’d brought snacks along for the only food available to buy is in a cart that gets pushed around once during the trip and consist mostly of water, juice and chips.
Much of this land is filled with large plantations of palm oil or rubber trees. And then there is the jungle, places were the vegetation is so thick that one could easily get lost. When we travel through jungle areas, the greenery is so close that the windows become a psychedelic blur. The Japanese, when they moved down the peninsula in late ’41 and early 42, found that having a smaller force wasn’t necessarily bad as the battlefields were so narrow due to the jungles. Some of the vegetation looks like kudzu, the plant from Asia that has taken over areas of the American South. Old warehouses and buildings no longer in use are covered with the vines. The towns along the tracks are small, mere villages. There is no rice (Malaysian rice is mostly grown on the west side of the peninsula). Roofs here are mostly of rusty tin, which makes sense with Malaysia also being a large producer of the metal.
A little later in the morning, I’m standing by the open door at the end of the car. My seat mate from early in the morning is sitting in the open door, rolling what has to be the skinniest cigarette I’ve seen. He offers me one, but I decline. I’m making use of the open door to snap photographs without having to deal with dirty windows. Another man asks me where I was going and we begin to talk about my trip across Southeast Asia and China and on to Russia and Europe. It turns out that he’s done much of my planned trip by rail, including the trans-Siberian. We talk about trains and he tells me the best are in Iran. I laugh and acknowledge that I’ve heard good things about Iranian trains, but that Americans are not especially welcomed there. We talk, off and on for the rest of the trip, until his stop which was 30 minutes or so before mine. His name is Mahud. When he tells me that Detroit is his favorite place in America, I wonder if I should check his temperature and see if he’s feverish. But he goes on to say that there are many Muslims there. Although he’s not wearing any of the traditional religious garb (like the guys looking a lot like Bin Laden, in white robes and turbans), he’s a devout Muslim with a PhD in Islamic Studies from a Saudi school. We talk about religion and my travels. I also learn that his brother, who teaches Chemistry in KL (as people call Kula Lampur), has a doctorate from Ohio State…
Mosque and soccer field
Mahud’s wife is Chinese. I ask which part and he says “Canton.” Surprised, I told him that I thought most of the Chinese Muslims were in the western part of the country. “There are very many Chinese Muslims,“ he assures me, “more than any other country.” I question his statement, having always heard that Indonesia had the most Muslims. He then complains about Indonesia, saying that there, a man can be a Muslim with a Christian wife and a Buddhist son. In Malaysia, the state bans Muslims from converting to other faiths. When I question if the government should enforce one’s religion, he backs down and says only God can change what is in the heart. I agree. He also complains that in Malaysia, only ½ of the people are Muslim (another questionable fact). But when I prod him some, I get the impression he’s talking about those who take their faith seriously, not those who claim to be of the Islamic faith.
My conversation with Mahud isn’t limited to religion even though we do spent a lot of time discussing it. At times, he stops to point out sights along the way. Near Gua Musang, we pass the first of limestone hills that appear so prominently in Asian art. He points to the caves in the humpback hills. At Kemubu, he notes some of the highest points in Malaysia (at least on the mainland). There is a waterfall here that he wants me to see, but unfortunately clouds and haze now blur our view, making it difficult to see anything clearly. After Dabong, he notes that we’re on a part of the track where the sun will come up in the west (the track goes south for a bit here as it navigates the mountains).
There is supposed to be a waterfall up there
Later in the afternoon, rain sets in and by the time the train arrives at Wakaf Bharu, the stop for Kota Bharu, it’s pouring. This city was the first in British Malaya to be attacked by the Japanese early on December 8, 1941. The attack happened only a few hours after Pearl Harbor was attacked, but being on the other side of the International Date Line, it was already December 8th. I get off with most of the remaining passengers that’s left on board. The train will continue on a few kilometers to Tumpat, near the Thailand border. The Jungle Train has been a magical experience. With few Westerners on board (I did get to talk with the two Brits after Mahud and the kids had departed), I’ve been able to make some new friends. Mahud had even given me directions to his house in case I want to stop by. I thanked him, but insisted I wasn’t going to be in East Malaysia long.
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
July 7, 2019
John 8:31-36
With pomp and circumstance, along with fireworks, hot dogs, watermelons, sunburns, and thunderstorms, we celebrated our Nation’s birthday on Thursday, Independence Day. But what does freedom mean? What are the limits on what I can do as an individual? When does my freedom impinge on yours, or yours on mine?
You know, we must realize our forefathers and mothers weren’t perfect back in 1776. It’d take another three-quarters of a century before slavery ended. And, of course, the end of slavery was just the beginning. As Frederick Douglas said just after Lincoln issued the Emancipation Proclamation: “A slave will yet remain in some sense a slave, long after the chains are removed from his limbs,”[1] Just because you’re free of chains doesn’t mean you’re truly free. Jesus teaches us this, also, as we’ll see this morning.
Jesus talks a lot about freedom in the gospel of John, but does his views of freedom mesh with what we celebrated on Thursday? What does Jesus mean when he says to his disciples that they know the truth and the truth will set us free? And, for something to think about, what does this freedom mean when compared to the Apostles’ Paul call for us to be a slave of Christ?[2] Read John 8:31-36.
Few ponder freedom more than those in prison with long days and nothing to do. Although few succeed, some spend their time creatively, attempting to obtain freedom. There were these two dudes at the Texas Correction Facility in Huntsville, who planned and watched and finally figured out if they could just crawl into the back of a delivery truck, they could possibly make it out. From observations, they learned there was this one truck that wasn’t checked as thoroughly as others. They jumped in the back, hoping they weren’t seen. Soon, the truck was beyond the walls of the prison and rolling down the highway. They waited until the truck stopped and parked. They slipped out. To their horror, this discovered they were inside the walls of another Texas prison.[3] Just another example of jumping out of the frying pan and into the fire.
We may find this story funny, but isn’t it also a parable of life? Desiring a better situation, we come up with a promising scheme only to find us back to where we started, or in another equally bad situation? Yet, the desire to be something more is intrinsic within the human race. It fueled the revolution that lead to the foundation of our nation in 1776. It encourages all kinds of escapist plans and schemes, some of which are good and others which take us down the wrong path with promises for more than they can deliver. Such schemes will never fulfill us.
We have been born with a desire to find true communion with God, which makes other substitutes for God unsatisfactory. As I have said many times, quoting Augustine, “our hearts are restless until they rest with God.”[4]
The gospel of John, like Augustine, makes it clear that we will never be satisfied with our lives until we come to God through Jesus Christ. Until then, we’ll be like those two Texas inmates, going from one prison to another. We need to break such cycles, and that’s what our Savior offers us.
Our passage begins with Jesus in the presence of some folks who had believed in him.[5] We don’t know what happened, why they stopped believing. Maybe it’s because Jesus is often upping the ante for those interested in him. Luke tells us about the rich guy who came to Jesus, bragging about how he has kept all the laws and wanting to know what he needed to inherit eternal life. Remember his answer? “Sell all you have, give it to the poor, and come follow me.”[6] I think Jesus always raises the bar to ensure we’re following him for the right reasons. Are we following him because of who he is or what we hope to get out of him?
In our passage for today, Jesus tells those who had believed in him, that if they continue abiding in his word, they’ll be his disciples and if they know the truth (which is him), they’ll be set free. As it was with the rich man, Jesus always seems to demand what we hold most precious. For the rich young man, it was his wealth. For these guys, who had followed Jesus, it’s their pride. Telling them that the truth will set them free implies they’re slaves. This strikes a sour note. They are proud to be children of Abraham. There’s a humorous irony here. As individuals, they may not be slaves, but they are not citizens of Rome. Therefore, they were less free than the American colonists were in the 18th Century under British rule. Israel has been under Roman domination for nearly a hundred years at this point, and was dominated by other nations before Rome. Israel hasn’t been free for centuries, going back to these dudes’ umpteen great granddaddies.
Of course, Jesus is not speaking of political or physical freedom. And those who are listening don’t understand this. He’s using the word metaphorically, to show the power of sin to control and enslave us. In order to redirect their focus, Jesus tells them that everyone who sins is a slave to sin!
Let’s take a poll. Who here sins? (Raise your hands.)
Did you hear what Jesus said? If you sin, you are not free. We’re not free. Sin grips us in its bondage. Sin is like potato chips. Remember those old commercials about how you can’t just eat one? Think of sin such as when you were a child and told a lie? Then you had to tell another, to cover that one up. Then another. Sin traps us in bondage. For someone in such a situation, Jesus’ offer for us to stick with him is gracious.[7] Of course, these guys don’t get it. They think they’re doing a pretty good job obeying the law, avoiding the most grievous sins, and having Abraham on their sides. They feel pretty good about their situation. After all, if it was good enough for their parents and grandparents, it should be good enough for them.
Jesus challenges their preconceived notion that just because they’re Abraham’s descendants, they’re not grandfathered in. Jesus is the Son of God and has the right to pardon and free those who are slaves to sin, and then welcome them into God’s family. The catch is this. If you are outside the family, this sounds like a good deal. But if you think you are already inside the family, thanks to Abraham, Jesus’ words are threatening. “What do you mean, Jesus, that this isn’t enough?”
Think of how Jesus’ teaching was understood by those who felt they were already good enough. How would it feel to learn that just being a descendant of Abraham isn’t enough? How would Jesus’ words go over today? Do we in America, who proudly proclaim our freedom, find Jesus’ promise of freedom enticing? Or would we be like first century Jews, thinking that we already free?
Are we? Are we really free? The majority of working Americans work in jobs they don’t enjoy but can’t leave because they have to pay the bills. How free is that? We’re trapped like the miner in Merle Travis’ song, “Sixteen Tons.” Sixteen tons and what do you get? Another day older and deeper in debt. St. Peter don’t call me for I can’t go, I owe my soul to the company store.” Too many people only work to get things they can enjoy when they are off work. Is this the way things should be? We work, not because we enjoy it and feel called to it, but so we can afford a lifestyle and enjoy a retirement. Wouldn’t our lives be more wholesome if we felt better about work? Wouldn’t we feel better knowing we’ve all been called to help make this world a better place? Wouldn’t it be better to understand that Jesus gives us life and we don’t have to struggle for it, that we just accept it?
Jesus tries to get people to see beyond their own self-interest by shattering our reality. He represents the truth which is not bound by anything in our material world. Jesus represents a greater reality, but can we accept him? If we accept him and live as if he is the most important thing, those things that ensnare us and entrap us may still be a threat, but they no longer have any power. If we accept Jesus and hang with him, we know that whatever happens to us, in life and in death is going to be okay for we belong to Jesus Christ.[8] We are a part of his family. As Howard Thurman, the Civil Rights leader once said, “To be free means the ability to deal with the realities of one’s situation so as not to be overcome by them.”[9]
You know, if we accept Jesus into our lives, we must still pay the bills, go to work, and take out the trash. After all, God created us for work. It’s important that we do what we can to earn our daily bread and to offer up our labors for God to bless. Doing so, we’re freed from thinking what really matters are those things we worry about day in and day out. In the grand scheme of things, they don’t matter. We’re freed from looking out upon the world and seeing it as something to be conquered or earned. That’s not Biblical. Instead, we’re free to look out upon the world and accept it as a gift from a gracious God. And most importantly, we’re free from the guilt and shame of our past. Sin no longer eats at us because we’ve been accepted by Jesus. And, unlike our freedom, Jesus’ offer is something no one can take away.
Jesus is the truth. He shows us the way to the Father. If we accept him and stick with him, we’ll be alright. Let’s do it! Amen.
©2019
[1] Quote used by Brad Braxton in his commentary on John 8:31-38 found on theafriicanamericanlectionary.org, He obtained the quote from William K. Klingaman, Abraham Lincoln and the Road to Emancipation, 1861-1865 (Viking: New York, 2001), 234.
[2] Ephesians 6:6
[3] Adopted from a story told by the Rev. Dr. Alan Meenan, titled “That You Might Believe,” preached at Hollywood Presbyterian Church in California in April 2003.
[4] Augustine, Confessions, 1.1.
[5] Dale Bruner translates this verse as “those who (previously) had” to capture the strength of the Greek construction and to emphasis these are former believers. Frederick Dale Bruner, The Gospel of John: A Commentary (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2012), 529-530.
[6] Luke 18:18-30.
[7] Bruner, 531.
[8] From the first question of the Heidelberg Catechism.
[9] Howard Thurman quoted in My Soul Looks Back, ’Less I Forget, Dorothy Winebush Riley, (New York: HarpersCollins, 1991), 149.
Joy Harjo, Conflict Resolutions for Holy Beings: Poems. (New York: W. W. Norton, 2015) 139 pages.
I picked up this book after learning that Joy Harjo has been appointed poet laureate for the United States. It’s exciting because she’s the first Native American to serve in this position. In addition to being a poet, Harjo is also a jazz musician. Her poetry blends music with longing for a home that seems evasive. In different poems, the reader is taken an “Indian school” in Oklahoma, to the hunting grounds of the Inuit people in northern Alaska, and through airports and other locals in between. She alternates between more free-form poetry to “prose poems.” Many of the poems draw the reader into the experience of modern Native Americans, who, having lost a homeland, are not sure where they belong. We also are reminded of the realities within Native communities of alcoholism and suicide. Yet, a thread of hope weaves through these poems, as we (as well as all creation) are encouraged to be blessing to others. I find her poems accessible and easy to understand. I’m sure I will reread many of them as I continue to ponder their messages. .
Archibald Rutledge, My Colonel and his Lady, (1937: Indianapolis, The Bobby’s-Merrill Company, reprinted 2017), 92 pages.
In this short book, the former poet laureate of South Carolina, Archibald Rutledge, writes a memoir of his parents. His father had been the youngest colonel in the Confederate army. His father joined the war in North Carolina (the family kept a mountain home to escape to in the summer). He was wounded three times, involved in many engagements and served as best man for General Pickett, when he married. Archibald was the youngest child of the family (for which, his father often called him Benjamin, for Jacob’s last son). He was born in 1883, nearly twenty years after his father’s military experience had ended. Rutledge was in awe of his father, whom he saw as a kind, gentle, and loving man. His father shared with him the love of all things wild-hunting and fishing and just walking in the woods. He also shared his love of the creator whom he saw revealed in nature. His mother, the colonel’s lady, was also a kind but strong woman. As her husband was often away, she had to take control as she did directing the successful efforts at fighting a fire in the great house (when water had to be drawn from the river by buckets) and shooting to scare away intruders who were looking to steal from their rice barn. She also impressed the young Rutledge with her love of books and her care of others (she often served as a medical resource in a community that often had to go without physicians).
One interesting fact I learned about the low country was a tsunami struck South Carolina following the great earthquake in Charleston in 1886. The family was staying at their “beach home” in McCellanville, South Carolina and Archibald was only three. Suddenly the water started rushing in and his mother quickly put him and a sister on a table and went to make sure the other children were safe. The water rose several feet before rushing back out to the ocean. I knew of the earthquake and its damage, but not the coastal damage from wave action.
The Rutledge family lived on a plantation that had been in the family since the 17th Century. It survived the war (it was outside of Sherman’s march through South Carolina). Of course, by the time Archibald Rutledge was born, there was no longer slaves working the fields, but sharecroppers and those who gave a day’s work a week to “rent’ their cabins. I appreciate the way Rutledge describes his encounters with the natural world, but he does display a paternalistic view when he discusses those former slaves who lived on the plantation. This book provides a glimpse into another era and the reader should remember that its view is somewhat nostalgic and romantic. This is the third book I’ve read and reviewed by Rutledge.
Sebastian Junger, The Perfect Storm (W.W. Norton, 1997, audible 2014, 9 hours and 25 minutes.
I watched the movie, “The Perfect Storm,” many years ago, but really enjoyed the book. Junger has mastered a style used by Herman Melville. Through Melville’s novel, Moby Dick, Melville blends an exciting tale with the explanation on how the crew lived, sailed and hunted whales. Junger, in telling the story of the demise of a swordfish boat, provides enlightening detail into the method of longline fishing along with metrological details and the role the Coast Guard and other rescue groups perform when the weather turns rough. Writing about a particular weather event that occurred in 1991, he primarily focuses on the men of the fishing boat Andrea Gail. He introduces his readers to the crew and their families and the “Crow’s Nest,” a favorite bar back in Gloucester, MA, from where the boat sails. In addition to the problems faced by the Andrea Gail, which was lost at sea and never found, he speaks of some dramatic rescues that were made by the Coast Guard as they rescued three from the sailboat Satori, deal with other floundering boats such as a Japanese fishing ship, and also rescued all but one of an Air National Guard helicopter crew that ditched after a refueling attempted failed. One of the members of the crew was lost at sea. This is wonderful writing and an exciting read (or, my case, an exciting listening event). I highly recommend it.
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
June 30, 2019
Luke 9:51-59
As I was pondering the direction of today’s sermon, I came across this quote: “We do well to remember that the Bible has far more to say about how to live during the journey than about the ultimate destination.”[1] In our passage today, which comes at a turning point in Luke’s gospel, we find Jesus leaving behind his Galilee ministry and heading to Jerusalem. Luke uses this travel narrative as a unifying theme for the middle section of his gospel. [2] Jesus doesn’t arrive in Jerusalem for another ten chapters. During this journey, there are lots of opportunity for Jesus to teach the disciples. Today, we’ll look at one such lesson of how we’re to live during our journeys.
Earlier in this chapter, Jesus with the handful of the disciples experienced the “Transfiguration.”[3] It’s a high point of the gospel, ranking up there with Jesus’ baptism.[4] Interestingly, Luke follows both these “high points” with a story of rejection.[5] Jesus was baptized, then endured forty days of temptation, only to be rejected by his hometown.[6] Jesus was transfigured, seen in his full glory, and then rejected by a Samaritan village. Jesus teaches his disciples about rejection and how discipleship is hard. Are we willing to risk rejection in order to be a disciple? Think seriously about that question as I read this passage. Our scripture is Luke 9:51-58.
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When I was hiking the Appalachian Trail, I came into Gorham, New Hampshire for the evening. It’s a small town near the Maine border. I needed to resupply for the trail ahead. I was down to only oatmeal to eat, but I didn’t have enough fuel for my stove to even prepare that.
On my hike I carried with me a multi-fuel stove that could burn regular gasoline. The benefit of such a stove is that I didn’t have to buy gallon containers of white gas, of which I’d only need a liter. It saved me on gas. I’d only spend a quarter or maybe 30 cent to fill up my bottle. It was a lot cheaper than Coleman fuel, and both fuels were cheaper back then. So I stopped at a local Exxon station on the edge of town, set my pack down next to the pump, and pulled out my fuel bottle. As I reached for the nozzle, the cashier ran out of the store yelling obscenities and telling me I couldn’t fill up my bottle.
“Why,” I asked?
“You might spill gas.”
“I’ll be careful. I haven’t yet spilled any and have filled this bottle at least a dozen times.”
“We don’t allow it,” she said.
I was mad. I told her it’s a good thing I didn’t have a car with me, for I would run out of gas before I filled up at her station. Looking back, it seems that even without gasoline, I was able to throw some gas onto what was becoming a fire. She began to curse me and said that she wished all us hikers would go back to where we came. In response, I pulled out my journal, wrote down the name of the station, and asked her for its address. I promised to send letters to the Chamber of Commerce and to Exxon Corporate Headquarters. She had a few more choice words for me as I walked down the street and filled up my fuel bottle at the next station.
Having been rejected, I found myself steaming. As I left town and hiked north, I began to craft the letters I was going to write… but then I realized I was putting way too much negative energy into this situation. I decided to let it be and I never sent those letters. Had Jesus been among us hikers, I think he’d told me to do just that. Drop it. Harboring such feelings is never good. It just eats at you. We cannot control how other people react to us; we can only control how we react toward them.
Jesus is heading to Jerusalem, taking the disciples with him. The text that he “sets his face” to go to Jerusalem, a phrase echoed throughout the next ten chapters. On this journey, we learn things not mentioned in the other three gospels. Jesus is not just walking, he’s teaching and healing. But Jesus doesn’t go directly to Jerusalem. If he’d had a GPS and set the destination for Jerusalem, the machine would have been constantly squawking “recalculating, recalculating” as he wanders around. It’s in this wandering we find some of our most beloved parables, such as the Good Samaritan and the Prodigal Son. Along the way, Jesus stops and teaches people about who God is and how they should relate to their neighbors.
But not everyone is ready to see Jesus. Luke informs us that the Samaritans don’t want anything to do with Jesus because he has set his face towards Jerusalem. The Samaritans, who do not see Jerusalem as holy and who worship on another mountain, have grown weary of self-righteous Jews trampling through their land on their way to Jerusalem.[7] They’re just like the gas station attendant, who was tired of hikers coming through her town. In Biblical times, many Jews from Galilee would take the longer away around Samaria in order to avoid such encounters.
The disciples trying to arrange food and lodging for the journey are upset at the reaction they receive. Likewise, I was upset at the station clerk. “Let’s nuke ‘em!’ “Let’s blow them to smithereens!” “Let’s get them in trouble with their boss, or the corporation.” Ever hear people talk about enemies like that? Two of the disciples, James and John, whom Jesus nicknamed “Sons of Thunder,”[8] ask Jesus if he wants them to do away with this village… “You know, Jesus, just a little fire from heaven to melt their hearts.”
Jesus doesn’t take rejection personally and encourages the disciples to get over it. Too often we forget that vengeance isn’t ours![9]
Then there are people wanting to join Jesus on this journey. We’re not told if Jesus turns them away, but he certainly uses no ad agency to sell his trip. “I have no place to lay my head,” he says. The Message translation here has Jesus saying “we’re not staying at the best inns, you know.” Following Jesus isn’t easy. Jesus makes a demand on our lives. “Are you ready to follow me,” Jesus asks? “If you want to follow me, I have to be first and foremost in your lives,” he says. “Nothing can come before me!”
Do we put things before Christ? Think about your life and the things you value. Are you willing to give it all up for Jesus? Is Jesus at the center of your life? Is he what’s most important?
There is a tension between the first and second part of this passage. In the first part, we’re told not to be so zealous that we forget the mission. Jesus came to save, not to destroy. Among his followers there is not to be revenge against or violence toward enemies.[10] In the second half of the passage, Jesus says that following him is tough, but if we decide to do so, he’ll demand our total allegiance. We can’t jump halfway in, it’s all or nothing.
What does this passage say to us today? One thing we can gleam is this: If we want to be a follower of Jesus, we must be willing to stand up against the contempt that is so prevalent in our society today.[11] Jesus didn’t allow the disciples to have contempt toward the Samaritans, and I don’t think he’s happy about how we treat others.
Contempt for others seems to have started in national politics where groups of people are identified as deplorable or sick or with some other adjective that says we want them to just go away. Thanks to cable news, it’s ubiquitous. These Ad hominem attacks, which is what they are—a basic fallacy in debate, is used to dehumanize others. Ad hominem means “against the man,” and it refers to one not attacking an issue, but belittling the person on the other side of an argument.
Just think about this. When we hear something we agree with, we jump on the bandwagon without thinking. It then becomes easy for us to let our contempt rule. “Let’s call down some fire from heaven.” Sounds good, doesn’t it? It has gotten so easy to wish those we don’t like would disappear or go away.
We not only see this tendency in our national politics, but locally, even in our own neighborhood. Just recall the way the island divided over the issue of incorporation. Many of the harsh words said had nothing to do with the issue, but was an attempt to discredit the other side. And it happens within churches, between friends and even within members of a family. When we know we’re right and assume they’re not only wrong, but are also evil or stupid for thinking that way, we quickly slide into thinking we’d be better off without them. We are showing contempt. We’re like James and John in our story today. Sadly, it’s easy to mouth off. And our words risk creating a larger divide between us and the other. But the Christian faith isn’t about creating divisions. It’s about bringing people together. It’s about standing up for others, even those we may not agree with. It’s about not spouting off at the mouth. It’s about thinking before we speak.
Let me draw your attention to the quote I attached to the flyleaf of the bulletin. Take it home and ponder it this week. If you want to change the way we treat others in the world, don’t wait for our national leaders to take the initiative. It’s up to you, and to me, to live as Jesus taught. We’re to love others, even our enemies.
Today, I think back to that encounter in Gorham, New Hampshire, so many years ago. I wonder what would have happened if I had gone back to that cashier at the Exxon station and apologized. I wouldn’t have to say she was right, but I could have acknowledged that my response and my thoughts about her were misguided. As humans, we can’t be responsible for what someone else does. We can only be responsible for what we do and how we react. Amen.
©2010
[1]This quote came from a Facebook Meme posted by the Clergy Coaching Network and was attributed to Philip Yancey.
[2] See Fred B. Craddock, Luke: Interpretation: A Biblical Commentary for Teaching and Preaching (Louisville: John Knox Press, 1990), 139-142.
[3] Luke 9:28ff.
[4] Luke 3:21-22.
[5] Craddock, 142.
[6] Luke4:16ff.
[7] Norval Geldenhuys, The New International Commentary on the New Testament: Gospel of Luke (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1982), 292-3
[8] Mark 3:17
[9] Deuteronomy 32:35, Romans 12:19, and Hebrews 10:30.
[10] Geldenhuys, 292.
[11] See Arthur C. Brooks, Love Your Enemies (New York: HarperCollins, 2019).
Cypress Forest along Ebeneezer Creek
I spent last week at a church camp at the Ebeneezer Retreat Center near Rincon, Georgia. I led the outdoor activities for the youth, which included taking the middle and high school youth on a canoe trip. While they paddled in the channel, I would often paddle through the cypress to get ahead of some of them. With the water low, some of the cypress trunks reminded me of the broad hoop dresses women wore in the middle of the 19th Century. Cypress also have “knees” which pop up around their trunks, which explains their presence in the poem below.
The Ebeneezer Cotillion
Like a rugrat
I dart between the hoop skirts
of stately maidens-cypress-
bumping into their knees,
zigzagging across the ballroom,
as the top of the trees sway gracefully
in the summer breeze.
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
1 Kings 19:1-15
June 23, 2019
As a music tradition, the Blues rose out of the African American experience of slavery. In song, they cried about their plight as they longed for freedom. The song, “Go Down Moses,” captures this desire for freedom. But this tradition is found throughout scripture. For of all the Blues’ singers that’s lived, Elijah may have been the best.
In our passage today, from First Kings, Israel has been in a drought and Elijah, the prophet of God, is feeling alone. There’s been a show-down where Elijah challenges all the prophets of Baal. “Let’s see who can call down fire from heaven to consume an offering on the altar.” Elijah succeeds and the people turn on the prophets of Baal. Then, Elijah forecast the end of the drought and rain comes upon the parched land. You’d think Elijah would be a hero. But he’s not. And the queen is not happy.
“Hot Jezebel!” The queen’s name has found itself on an appetizer made of fruit preserves, horseradish, mustard and pepper.[1] You spread the concoction over cream cheese and serve with crackers. The sweetness of the preserves and the bite of the horseradish grabs your attention. It’s appropriately named. Jezebel must have been sweet on Ahab for the king to put up with her, but she also had a tempter hotter than horseradish. She wasn’t the type of lady to cross. She could carry a grudge.
In this passage, we’ll hear how Elijah cries out to his God about how unjustly he’s being treated as he flees from Jezebel’s wrath. Read 1 Kings 19:1-15.
Have you ever felt you were all alone in the world? That everyone was out to get you? If so, you can identify with Elijah’s plight. Twice in this passage, once even after he encounters the Lord, Elijah proclaims his righteousness and cries out about Israel’s apostasy and how all the prophets have been killed except him. It was the same cry he made in the previous chapter on Mt. Carmel.[2]
Elijah overstates his case a bit. We know there are others in Israel who are faithful. In the last chapter, we’re told that Obadiah, one of Ahab’s servants who remained faithful to God, has hidden 100 prophets.[3] Furthermore, we’re told there are at least 7,000 in Israel who will be spared by God because they have not worshipped Baal.[4] But when he singing the blues, Elijah doesn’t care about the details. It sounds better to say, “I alone am left and they’re after me.” We are a lot like Elijah and have probably overstated our troubles, too. Overly dramatic sometimes gets folks attention.
It’s also interesting how quickly Elijah’s depression follows his triumph. Any satisfaction Elijah received from having upstaged the prophets of Baal is short-lived. For as soon as Jezebel hears about the demise of the prophets of her gods, she sets out to kill Elijah. It probably like that for us, too, as we go from the elation of being on a mountaintop to the fear of descending into a valley of dark shadows. Hopefully, we don’t have a mad queen on our tails.
The Beatles hit record back in the mid-60s, “Yesterday,” comes to mind when I think about Elijah’s predicament. It a kind of a mellow blues tune that goes something like, “Yesterday, all my troubles seem so far away, now it looks like they’re here to stay. O, I believe in yesterday.” Elijah could relate to these words. Perhaps we, too can relate. In the last verse of the song there is the line: “Now I need a place to hide away.” That’s Elijah! And we’ve all been there. The glory of yesterday is gone and we need a place to hide. Elijah flees south into Judah where he’s safe from Jezebel’s reach and then goes off by himself into the wilderness where he finds a bit of shade under a broom tree and lays down to die.
While asleep, an angel brings bread and water for Elijah. Obviously, Elijah assumes this is his “last meal.” He enjoys it and then, awaiting death, goes back to sleep. Again the angel wakes Elijah. Some people just don’t like getting out of bed. Elijah’s informed that he has a long journey so he’d better eat up and get on the road.
Elijah sets out on a forty day journey to Horeb, the mountain of God. Forty is one of those special numbers used throughout the Bible to indicate a purifying process or a time of preparation. It rained for forty days while Noah was in the ark; the Israelites wandered in the desert for forty years; and Jesus spent forty days in the wilderness preparing for his ministry… Elijah was being prepared to meet God in his forty day journey. Forty, the number that reminds us that our troubles are not always instantaneously solved.
Arriving in Horeb, Elijah seeks shelter in a cave. There, the voice of the Lord asks him what he’s up to. Elijah repeats his tale of Israel’s unfaithfulness and how he is the only prophet left alive. Instead of answering Elijah’s complaint, he’s told to stand before the mountain, as the Lord is about to pass by. Then our story takes a surprising twist. There’s a great wind, but the Lord is not in it. There’s a powerful earthquake, but the Lord is not in it. Then there is a fire, and likewise, the Lord is not in it.
Three great events, all which are used in other places to describe God: the word for God’s Spirit means wind; on Sinai, the mountain shook as an earthquake to indicate God’s presence; and during the exodus God appeared as a fire, leading the Hebrew people. All three of these events could have represented God, but not in this incident. Here God is presented in a unique fashion. Silence. After all the commotion, there’s silence. Sheer silence. A silence so terrifying that it pierces Elijah’s ears and he pulls his jacket up over his head and wraps it around his face in an attempt to hide.
Again, a voice asks Elijah what he is doing on the mountain. Once again, Elijah cries the blues. But the Lord doesn’t grant Elijah sanctuary. Elijah is not told, “Just stay here, I’ll take care of you.” God isn’t finished with Elijah. There is still work to be done, so he’s sent back to Israel through Damascus. Along the way Elijah is to anoint the King of a neighboring nation, an illustration that the God of Elijah cares for and controls not just the events in Israel but throughout the entire world.
This story is rich in meaning. The eerie silence is often how God reveals himself in the wildernesses of our lives. God tells us, through the Psalmist, “to be still and know that I am God.”[5] Barbara Brown Taylor, in the published version of the Lyman Beecher Lectures at Yale University, speaks about God’s silence being a defense against our idolatry.[6] Too often we make God out to be in our image. As Mark Twain once said, “God created us in his image and we returned the favor.” But God is not in our image. The church, throughout the last two millenniums, has taught that God is beyond our comprehension.[7] We only know God when God decides to reveal himself to us—which is revelation. It is a revelation that’s complete in Jesus Christ!
Elijah, in the 18th and 19th chapters of 1st Kings, has two different revelations of God. The first occurs on Mt. Carmel when Elijah’s sacrifice burst into flames to the astonishment of all who were present. Elijah must have thought that he and God were going to make a great team. But God is beyond our control, as Elijah discovers. The Mt. Carmel experience was a one-time event. God would still be present with Elijah, but many times this presence would take on the form of an eerie silence.
There is a lesson in this for us. All of our spiritual journeys have ups and downs. There are times we feel close to God and other times we feel as if God is far away and doesn’t care what happens. Elijah is like this. From his spiritual high on Mt. Carmel, when there was no doubt God’s spirit was with him, Elijah slips into a depression and begins to sing the blues. “It’s just me Lord, and there ain’t much I can do.” He feels so sorry for himself that he’s ready to die. So God reveals himself again to Elijah, but in a different manner, in a most common fashion: silence.
Aren’t we like Elijah? There are those times when we know we’re filled with God’s spirit and we’re on a natural high and the blues seem so far away. These are the times we know God is real—they’re our Mt. Carmel experiences. But then, there are occasions when things do not go right, when we feel sorry for ourselves, and God doesn’t seem to be present. It’s during these times we need to slow down enough to listen for God in the silence. It’s in the silence that we can come to trust that God is with us always. It’s not something we can explain or even demonstrate. Its faith: faith and a longing for that which lies beyond our grasp, that which we cannot control, but without which we can’t live.
Ricky Porter, the pastor in Dublin, was our Bible Study leader this week at Savannah Presbytery’s camp. The theme was “Power Up,” and was about prayer. Thinking of the term “power up,” we have a vision of getting all excited about God. But there’s a paradox here paralleling what we see with Elijah. Prayer isn’t just about being all excited and telling God all we think God needs to know. It’s also about listening. To “power up,” we need to be silent and open for God to reveal himself. So each day, Ricky had the campers spend longer periods in prayer, splitting the time between talking to God about our needs and concerns, and just sitting in silence, listening and meditating. Quietly listening is a good practice for all of us, and perhaps the only way we can truly experience God’s presence. Amen.
©2019
[1] Hot Jezebel Recipe: Combine in a bowl:
- A 12 ounce jar of apricot preserves
- 2-3 teaspoons of horseradish
- 1 tablespoon of dry mustard powder
- Coarse ground pepper to taste
Place in refrigerator to chill. Then spoon it over a block of cream cheese and serve with crackers.
[2] 1 Kings 18:21.
[3] 1 Kings 18:4.
[4] 1 Kings 19:18.
[5] Psalm 46:10.
[6] Barbara Brown Taylor, When God is Silent (Boston: Cowley Publications, 1998), 38.
[7] See the Westminster Confession, Chapter II.1.
From my recent readings. They’re all different!
Anjali Sachdeva, All the Names They Used for God (Siegel & Grau, 2018), 257 pages.
This is a collection of short stories and the first book by Ms. Sachdeva. I heard Sachdeva read from her book last summer when I was at the Iowa Summer Writing Festival. She held a reading at the Prairie Lights bookstore. I was impressed with her writing and that she’s from Pittsburgh! I purchased a copy of her book, read a couple of stories and put it down. Almost a year later, I picked the book back up and reread some of the stories along with the others. Each story is a surprise..
The stories are all unique with a bizarre twist. Some are darker, such as Pleiades,” which tells the story of a scientific couple who, in the interest of science, gives birth to seven twin sisters. Then slowly, they all die off. In “Killer of Kings,” she tells the story of an aged John Milton as he writes Paradise Lost. While this is the only historical character in the stories, even this story has a twist with an angel sent as a muse and scribe for the blind poet. Some stories seem more normal, like “Logging Lake”, where couple set out hiking in Glacier National Park. But she disappears, leaving everything behind. Did she run off with the wolves? “Robert Greenman and the Mermaid” tells the parallel story of a mermaid who is drawn to a shark while she lures fishermen. The details of the commercial fishing shows Sachdeva’s research into the stories. Another story, “Manus,” is a dystopian world controlled by aliens. The story that provides the title of the book, “All the Names for God,” recreates the lives of the girls in Nigeria who were kidnapped by Islamic terrorist and, because of their special powers, are able to exact revenge. While all the stories have twists, they’re all different, but a delight to read and leaves the reader with something to ponder.
###
John Vigor, Things I Wish I’d Known Before I Started Sailing, (Dobbs Ferry, NY: Sheridan House, 2005), 187 pages.
Maybe I should have read this book ten years ago. Instead, when I started sailing, I picked up a copy of John Rousmaniere, The Annapolis Book of Seamanship, which is very serious and covers a little of everything. Since then I picked up a few other books that deal with sail shape and racing techniques, which I can only take in small chunks at a time (or I can read them and quickly fall asleep). But this book was fun to read. It’s sort of a dictionary to random things about sailing. Each entry, which appear alphabetically (there are approximately 200 of them), covers different topics. By drawing from a variety of entries, one learns incredible things. Like the chance of a boat being hit by lightning is 6 in 1,000 (according to the insurance industry). But you’ll probably not be hurt, but you might if you’re hugging the mast or holding on to a wire shroud. But it’s more likely that lightning will blow out your electronics. However, occasionally it’s been known to blow a hole through the boat in which case you’re really screwed because a 2 inch hole a foot underwater will allow 4000 gallons of water an hour to seep into your boat (and what self-respecting lightning bolt only blows a two inch hole into anything). But 4000 gallons of water an hour is about a 1000 gallons more water than a good bilge pump can remove, so you’ll be playing a losing game. But that doesn’t matter because with your electronics fried, your bilge pump won’t work. This led me to look at his recommendations for life jackets (or PFDs, and there’s no entry for what is essentially an important piece of equipment when you have a two inch hole in the hull). There is, however, an entry for life rafts. The author basically says they’re worthless. Despite this, there’s some good information in this book and it’s conveyed in a humorous manner.
Just in case you wanted to know, there are also some formulas that are obviously provided as a way to make celestial navigation seem easy. To determine how much water will be flooding into a boat, one only has to take the diameter (in inches) times the square root of the height the water must rise to equal the outside water level (or how far below the water level the hole is). By the time you’ve done this calculation, you’re probably no longer breathing air. Another helpful formula predicts the resistance of a given boat to capsizing. All you have to do is to divide your boats displacement (in pounds) by 64, find the cube root of that number. Take the beam (in feet and tenths of a foot) and divided it by the cube root above. If your answer is less than 2 you boat is relatively safe from capsizing. It would be advisable to do these calculations before you sail into a rogue wave, and regardless of your boat’s number on the capsizing scale, you might want to put on your PFD while the wave is still on the horizon. Remember the Poseidon Adventure!
Of course, don’t think this is a technical book. The author also discusses luck and suggest that the most valuable instrument in sailing around the world is a depth finder. And there is ideas for a “boat renaming” ceremony to placate the ocean gods.
###
Alice Outwater, Wild at Heart: America’s Turbulent Relationship with Nature, from Exploitation to Redemption, read by Joyce Bean (2019), 9 hours 31 minutes
Outwater has written a history of America’s relationship with nature, and how we have moved from seeing nature something to be conquered and tamed, to something with value to be preserved. She begins by discussing how several Native American tribes approached nature. The Hopi saw themselves as guardians of nature. The Abenaki sought balance with nature. And the Chinook gave thanks. I was beginning to think she was going back to an idea that we just had to go back to how the tribes lived, but that was not her purpose. Instead, she sat out the beginning of our thoughts about the environment. Then she moves on to discuss the idea of the “commons.” What isn’t owned by an individual, but is seen as owned by everyone and about to be exploited. At one time, land was seen in this way, until it was “claimed” and “used.” The air and the water, until more recently, was seen this way, which led to people dumping all kinds of stuff into his “common” space. But over time, we realized how it is all interrelated.
I found it interesting how the pollution of our rivers began as an attempt to “clean up” urban areas as we tried to get sewage out of the streets. Treatment centers came about relatively recently and have resulted in much cleaner rivers. The same is true for air.
I had a sense that she was attempting to make a political wake-up call for Republicans. From Teddy Roosevelt, to Nixon, Reagan, and the first Bush, she lifted up achievements in how they have worked toward or approved attempts to save wilderness, to clean water and air, to reduce acid rain and save the ozone layer, all which have been somewhat successful. But the danger of rolling back such gains for short term profits, as she has more recently seen, is problematic. Instead of being a doom-day prophet, she calls for rational approaches to the use of resources. She sees the removal of dams, the attempts to rebuild species that have been nearly wiped out by hunting or habitat loss, as positive signs that we can move quickly to address climate change.
This is a good book to understand how our views of nature has shifted over the years. I listened to the Audible version of this book.
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
1 Corinthians 2
June 16, 2019
Who likes to dance? I’ll admit that I have two left feet and am not exactly graceful on the dance floor. But thankfully, when it comes to the eternal dance, the only one that matters, I don’t have to depend on my own grace. That’s the good news.
It’s Trinity Sunday. “So what?” You might think. “What does the Trinity have to do with me?” If we just think of God as some force up in the sky, then the Trinity wouldn’t mean much to us. But thankfully, that’s not the way God works.
On the flyleaf of the bulletin, I placed a quote from Brian McLaren, who describes the Trinity as a divine dance.[1] If we think of the Trinity in this fashion, it does matter. For as the three members of the Trinity, who are mysteriously one, dance, they reach out and invite us to join them. God the Father, the Creator of all that is, wants us to enjoy his handiwork. Jesus Christ the Son, the Redeemer, the one who pays the price for our sin, wants us to make the most out of the new life he offers. The Holy Spirit, whose presence remains with us in this world that can often be daunting, draws us into this dance. And once we join the dance, we are to draw others, as God is praised.
The Trinity reminds us that at the very center of God is about love and relationship. God invites us into a relationship. Do we accept the invitation to dance?
Our passage today is steeped in theology. Paul lays down a foundation for the Trinity and how God is working to reconcile us back to himself. Read 1 Corinthian 2.
###
“New and improved!” It’s a marketing cliché we hear all the time. Yet, it gets out attention. Whether it is laundry detergent, automobiles, cell phones, computer play stations or soft drinks, our ears perk up and we rush out to buy. This is also be true for churches. We start a new program, there’s a new minister, the music is new, and so forth. We’re drawn to what’s new. By the way, this isn’t anything new! Paul faced this in Greece. The Greeks coming onto the scene. When he was in Athens, Paul was given the podium to speak before the philosophers about his faith.[2] But Paul knew that his message wasn’t based on the sophistication of his argument, but on a deeper truth that mere humans cannot understand without divine intervention. So Paul tells the Corinthians he came knowing nothing but Jesus Christ and him crucified.
Paul presents himself in weakness, in fear and trembling.[3] He doesn’t depend on his words or his rhetoric to make the case; instead he depends on God’s Spirit. But this doesn’t mean that Paul talks to the Corinthians as if he’s a country bumpkin. He’s not, as the detail of his arguments illustration. It’s just that Paul is referring to God’s wisdom, which is beyond human understanding.
God’s wisdom is eternal and hidden, yet it’s revealed to us. God is free to do that. In verse 8, Paul refers back to Jesus’ crucifixion. The people who crucified the Savior were bright people, but they did have true wisdom. They did not know God; for if they had they would not have crucified Jesus.
Paul is affirming here the Reformed doctrine of Irresistible Grace, or as it is known in the Westminster Confession “Effectual Calling,” which acknowledges God’s hand in our belief and understanding of the work of Christ.[4] What this means is that God gives us even the faith we need to believe! God’s Spirit works through our spirit to bring us to faith in Christ.
As we read in Verse 9, we can’t imagine that which God has arranged for those he loves. God’s love for the world is beyond our comprehension. The beginning of our Christian faith isn’t belief, its love![5] God’s love! And as we continue reading, we learn that God lets us in on the secret of his great love. God’s Truth is shown in the person of Jesus, a truth that for those who don’t understand seems foolish.
In Ken Bailey’s commentary on 1st Corinthians, he points out how Paul is affirming the doctrine of the Trinity throughout this passage. God the Father has all things under control; in Jesus, God comes to us as a man, in a manner that we might understand; and God’s Spirit, working through our own spirit, reveals this to be true. We see the three persons of the Trinity at work here. Although Paul doesn’t use the term Trinity, through rhetorical exegesis, Bailey cites six occasions in these verses where Paul alludes to the Trinitarian concept. Bailey, who taught most of his career in the Middle East, tells of a time he was a part of a Christian-Muslim dialogue. After dinner, one evening, one of the Muslim scholars questioned him as to the Trinity, asking for his help to understand this Christian doctrine. Bailey took the scholar to this passage and spoke about God’s work as shown throughout these verses. [6]
What does the Trinity mean to you? Do you see the mystery of the doctrine of the Trinity important to your understanding of the faith?
One popular phrase among Presbyterians is “The Church reformed, always reforming.” It is often cited as a reason for us to change, but it has nothing to do with that and the way it is often cited leaves off an important part of the phrase that came out of the Reformation and proclaimed, “The Church reformed, always to be reformed according to the Word of God in the power of the Spirit.”[7] The fullness of the phrase proclaims the truth of both God’s word, which is grounded in Jesus Christ, and God’s Spirit, which works through us to reclaim us into God’s family. At the heart of our faith is the work of the Triune God., who makes such reform possible. Without God, we’d be blow to and fro like a sailboat without a rudder.
Sometimes we think too much of ourselves, as if we’re self-sufficient and can do it all. In my reading for this sermon, I came across this line which popped out at me: “The church lives not by what we’re able to do, but by what God has done and continues to do in Jesus Christ by the power of the Holy Spirit.”[8] Do you see the interactions of the three persons of the Godhead here? Father, Son and Spirit, they’re all present. What’s ultimately important isn’t what we do, but what God does. Yet, often what God’s does is done through us.
I have always appreciated the insights of Alexander Schmemann. He’s deceased but when he was alive, he was probably the top American theologian in the Russian Orthodox tradition, one of those groups that describe the Trinity as a divine dance. In his masterful work, For the Life of the World, he wrote about how we, as humans, tend to meet the need we have for God with empty human endeavors. We need to experience God, but we often go for some design we concoct and which fails to meet our needs.[9]
Essentially what Schmemann goes on to say, and what Paul also says, is that we need to experience a god that is not forced into our secular beliefs, but the God who transcends all so that he might reach out to everyone in love. Paul is referring to a God that is so big he can’t be contained in our human constructs. As believers, we need to be open to God speaking in and through us. And because we love God, we should seek to do that which God loves. For that is why we’ve been created.
Back to my opening point about new and improved… When it comes to the gospel there is no such thing. The gospel is eternal and does not depend on our efforts to be improved. The gospel depends on God’s triune efforts to reach out to us in love. It’s a simple message that we are to humbly proclaim. Like Paul, we believe in and proclaim Jesus Christ. He is our Lord and Savior, our comfort in times of trouble and our hope in the future. Are we willing to join him? Are we willing to join the dance? I assure you, it doesn’t matter ifyou have two left feet. Amen.
©2019
[1] Brian D. McLaren, a Generous Orthodoxy (Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan, 2004), 55-56.
[2] Acts 17:16-21.
[3] I’m borrowing language here from the New Revised Standard translation of the Bible for 1 Corinthians 2:2-3
[4] Westminster Larger Catechism Q. 67
[5] Alexander Schmemann, For the Life of the World (1963, Crestwood, NY: St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press, 1988 ), 105.
[6] Bailey, 115-118
[7] Book of Order, F-2.02
[8] Mark Achtemeir, “The Lordship of Jesus Christ,” in a Passion for the Gospel: Confessing Jesus Christ for the 21st Century, Mark Achtemeier and Andrew Purves, editors (Louisville, KY: Geneva, 2000), 20.
[9] Schmemann, 134.
This is my third and final post about a 5 day, 4 night paddle in the Okefenokee Swamp. The map shows our route as we started at Kingfisher and paddled to Maul Hammock platform. I wrote about this on my post for Day 1. From there, we paddled to Big Water on Day 2 and to Floyd’s Island on Day. This is covered my post on Days 2 & 3. Counting the extra miles I paddled on Day 4, I paddled a little over 50 miles in 5 days, covering a variety of wilderness settings.
The storms clear out early Sunday evening while we camp on Floyd’s Island. After dark, we can see the stars overhead, through the trees, along with hundreds of lightning bugs, more lightning bugs than I’ve seen since I left Michigan. Of course, there are also mosquitoes and biting flies. In fact, the biting flies are so bad that when away from the fire, I find myself wearing a bug net over my head. But things are fine once I crawl into my hammock where I read and catch up with my journal before falling asleep. On Monday, we plan to make it an early start as Gary needs to get back home in order to be at a meeting on Tuesday morning.
East side of Floyd’s Island (notice the cart for hauling gear)
We wake early and begin to pack up our gear. As we’d portaged our kayaks across Floyd’s Island the day before, we quickly eat some fruit and granola and haul our gear down to the boats. After loading up, we cast off into a narrow trail clogged with cut chunks of logs. The last time I was here, this trail wasn’t even open. A hurricane several years earlier had clogged the trail with down trees. It appears as if someone came through with a chainsaw, cut the down trees into firewood lengths of logs, and left them floating in the water. Because the logs are small, we can pushed them under the bows of our boats or push them off to the side. While it is hard work, it’s doable. After a hundred or so yards of difficulty, the path clears from logs
Like the path into the island from the west side, the east side was fairly narrow, but is only a mile or so long. It’s also fairly shallow and we follow (chase?) a rather large alligator (13-14 feet) for a while. He’ll come up, look at us, and then swim fast for a ways, before stopping. I’m pretty sure it’s male, for females don’t generally grow this large. As we paddle straight ahead, we soon close back in on him, and he takes off again. He does this several times until he finds a place to leave the channel for the swamp. All I can figure is that water is too shallow to dive and let us pass over top, which is what the alligators normally do.
Egret in Chase Prairie (on the edge of Floyd’s Island)
After thirty minutes of paddling, the heavy vegetation departs as we entered Chase Prairie. A few hundred yards later, we came to the point where the trail runs back up through Bluff Lake to Kingfisher Landing (where we had started our paddle on Friday). I have been to this spot a few years before, on a solo trip with an overnight on Bluff Lake platform. But instead of turning north, we turn south toward the Suwannee Canal, 2 1/2 miles away. Along the way we pass the turn off for Round Top platform, where I plan to camp for the evening. It’s just three miles down the purple trail. I decide to go around the long way to make sure that Gary finds the Suwannee Canal, which will take him back to the main entrance to the swamp.
Chase Prairie
This is my third time in Chase Prairie and, like the other times, there are plenty of alligators around. The prairie is fairly open with lots of pitch plants and irises in bloom. There are also a number of egrets and herons around. In the distant, I can hear the calls of a sandhill crane.
When we reach the canal, the path opens up with the tall trees forming a nice canopy blocking the sun. We paddle south, and shortly after the 9 mile marker (the mileage to the main entrance where Okefenokee Outfitters is located), Gary and I say goodbye. He continues paddling on straight, while I slip through a channel that takes me back into Chase Prairie. I have a reservation for one more night at Round Top platform, which is about two miles back into the prairie. The sun is up and its warm, but the paddling is easy and a little before 11 in the morning, I arrive at the platform. I’d stayed here once before and it is by far my favorite place to camp in the swamp as it has nearly 360 degree views of the swamp. Getting out, I set up camp, fix an early lunch and then catch up with my journal. Later I start reading. I’m only half way through David Halberstam’s The Fifties and with nearly 400 pages left, I have plenty to do to occupy my time.
late afternoon paddle
After an afternoon of reading and napping (I found myself enjoying two nice naps), I put the kayak back in the water and paddle north on the purple trail which takes me, after three miles of paddling, back to where we had been earlier in the morning. I had not paddled this section before and am glad I decided to make the effort for its beautiful, especially as the light softens late in the day. On the way down, I see an alligator catch a duck by the tail. The duck is flapping and the gator, which is in very shallow water, drags the duck toward the channel, where I am located. Seeing me, the gator pauses and the duck quickly flies away. I assume the gator had planned to drown the duck in the deeper water and enjoy duck for dinner. I also spot a pair of sandhill cranes.
paddling back in the early evening light
mileage sign on purple trail
As I come back after a six mile paddle (three up and three down), I notice the crescent new moon is in the west. Most of this trip was in the dark of the moon, but not that I could tell it as the clouds had pretty thick. In the east, the sun sets as I snap a few photos. Then it is time to fix dinner, some noodles and canned pork. Twenty minutes after the sunsets, the mosquitoes appear as soon as I can finish my dinner and clean up, I crawl into my hammock, under the safety of my bug net. I wake up in the middle of the night and step to relieve myself. In the south, Scorpius and Sagittarius are just above the horizon. But the mosquitoes soon find me and I crawl back into my hammock.
Around 3 AM, I wake again, as I was the first night, to what appears to be the sound of a chainsaw attempting to be started. Soon, all over the prairie, alligators are bellowing and making this weird sound. I listen off and on, between snoozing. They are so loud (one sounds as if it might be underneath the platform), that I can’t hear the mosquitoes buzzing just outside my netting. They continue on till dawn, and by the time I get up, they are quiet.
In the morning, I fix coffee and oatmeal for breakfast and enjoy eating slowly, taking in the sights. I leave around 9 AM and paddle to Coffee Bay platform, where I stop and rest, taking time to read a few chapters in my book, before resuming my paddle. I don’t see anyone until I run into a couple fishing in a jon boat a mile or so from the entrance into the swamp. They are the first people I’ve seen well over 24 hours. I am back to entrance at 1:30 AM. After loading my gear in the car and putting my boat on top, I am soon heading north to Savannah.
pitcher plants (in bloom)
This blessing was read at the end of worship yesterday, June 9th, as we honored Hazel for all she has done for our community. In the afternoon, the Landings Association held a reception for Hazel at the Sunset Room at Delegal Marina.
For Hazel Brown
Out of Mid-America you came, four decades ago.
The church was still in the fire barn
and the island mostly uninhabited.
You came with your husband,
looking to enjoy retirement,
as you exchanged the prairie wind
for salty air and water
and the dreams of sailing.
Over the decades you have seen many changes,
as houses were built, an island populated,
and finally even a new bridge constructed.
All the while people came and went,
some moved on and others left this life.
But through it all, you remained positive,
always smiling, never making enemies,
serving as a beacon of hope.
And though retired, you have remained busy.
You cared for a husband and then, after his death, another.
You served as the president of the Landings Association,
secretary of the Kiwanis Club,
a leader of the Coastal Botanical Gardens,
an Elder in your church,
and chair of a pastor’s nominating committee.
Hazel, may you know your years of service made this a better place.
We are grateful for what you have done.
And now as you leave us, to return back to mid-America,
to Arkansas, near your daughter, you are entering another stage of life.
Know that we will miss you as we cherish the time we had.
As hard and as sad it is, we understand and send you off with our blessings.
We pray for our Heavenly Father to look upon you with mercy and grace
and to keep you safe until that day when you are called to our true home.
In that new age, when Jesus reigns as our glorious king,
may we be reunited and look back to these days on Skidaway,
a speck within eternity,
and smile.
-Jeff Garrison
June 9, 2019
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
John 14:8-17
June 9, 2019
Today is Pentecost, the birthday of the church, a day to wear red in remembrance of those tongues that appeared as flames announcing the arrival of the Spirit. But instead of preaching on the Pentecost passage in Acts, I want us to look at the gospel lectionary passage for the day. Here, Jesus first promises to send a special friend (an Advocate, a Helper, better known as the Spirit) into the Christian Community. In the gospel of John, Jesus reiterates this five times.[1] The sending of the Spirit is a big deal.
Our reading this morning from the 14th chapter of John’s gospel takes place around the table of the Last Supper. The part of this chapter before our reading involves our friend, Doubting Thomas. He asks Jesus how we can know the way to where he’s going if we don’t know where he’s going. In the 6th verse, Jesus gives his classic statement, “I am the way, the truth, and the life, no one comes to the Father, except through me.
But Thomas isn’t the only one asking questions this evening. In our reading, Philip chimes in with a statement that we could have all made. “Just show me, Jesus, and I’ll be satisfied.” Let’s listen to God’s word. Read John 14:7-17
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Over a period of a few weeks, a minister listened to a parishioners tell the same fish story many times. Each time the fisherman told the story, the fish took on a different dimension. Sometimes he made the fish out to be a whale and other times it seemed to be just a lively bass. Finally, the minister felt he needed to confront this fisherman about his habitual lying… After worship one Sunday, he called the man aside and told him about hearing the same story told in different ways to different listeners… “Well you see,” the fisherman explained, “I have to be realistic. I never tell someone more than I think they will believe.”[2]
You know, we can only understand and comprehend so much and it seems that in the passage I just read, Jesus overloads his disciples. He attempts to teach them about the unique relationship between him and God the Father, and our relationship to them though the Holy Spirit. From this passage we learn that our knowledge of God comes from our knowledge of Jesus Christ. Through the life of Jesus, we are able to see God. Furthermore, we learn that through prayer, obedience, and the Holy Spirit we are empowered to carry on Jesus’ work and can experience his peace. This is a passage that deals with the work of the Trinity: God as Father, Son, and Spirit. It’s a lot to comprehend, but Jesus knows his time is short and he needs to prepare the disciples for what’s ahead.
This passage starts off with Philip begging, “Show us the Father and we will be satisfied.” It’s a natural request. Philip’s descendants must have ended up in Missouri, the “Show Me State.” You know, Philip easily answered Jesus’ call at the beginning of his ministry, as John shows us in his first chapter.[3] But it appears he wasn’t sure why. Perhaps Philip feels he needs some kind of grand demonstration of God’s power, or an encounter like Moses had on Sinai. Such a presentation was not forth coming.
Think about Philip’s question. Don’t we all want to know more about Jesus? Wouldn’t it be nice to have more evidence? Wouldn’t it be great to just see God and get it over with? Then everyone would believe…But it doesn’t work that way. Jesus tells his disciples that the way they, and everyone else, will encounter God is through him. The way God reveals himself to us is through the man named Jesus. Maybe instead of demanding more evidence like Philip, we need to accept what Jesus has to say.
It may seem a little strange, but after living with Jesus for three years, the disciples still don’t understand his unique relationship to the Father in heaven. We must admit, it’s difficult to imagine Jesus being a man and God. Our minds struggle with such a mystery. As a creature of God, we do not have the ability to understand God… Before being able to understand anything about God, we must be willing to accept our human limitations. When we do, we can relate to God through another human being… Jesus Christ.
Jesus asked his disciples to believe that he was in the Father and the Father was in him, and that his words were the words of the Father. The disciples, being normal logical people, had a hard time understanding how the Father and the Son could be the same. As they wondered, Jesus tells them to just believe, and if they couldn’t believe because of what he said, to believe because of the works that he performed. In other words, there are two ways for them to engage with Jesus’ special relationship with God. They can accept his word or be moved by his work.[4]
Jesus covers his relationship to God the Father because he wants to get on to what’s going to happen after he departs. After all, this is a conversation around the dinner table the night before the crucifixion. Jesus is preparing the disciples for when he’s no longer going to be present with them.
Jesus makes the shift between focusing on his relationship to the Father and to his continuing relationship to humanity in verse 12. There Jesus promises something strange, telling his disciples those who believe in him would be able to do even greater works after he had gone to the Father. Of course Jesus gives some ground rules for these works… The greater works would be done to glorify God the Father and would be accomplished through prayer, obedience, and the Holy Spirit.
If we pray to Jesus, asking the power to do something that glorifies God, then, he promises, our prayers will be answered. Jesus also promises that God’s Spirit will be with us forever. In other words, we are not abandoned. We are not alone. God is with us. And think about how this has been fulfilled over the centuries. Jesus and his band of disciples made an impact on a small corner of the ancient world, between Galilee and Judea. But within a generation, his followers were planting seeds—from India, to Ethiopia, and to Europe—that would make a significant difference. In 300 years the church would be established all over the region and from there go out into the rest of the world.
In the 17th verse, Jesus tells his disciples that they’ll be accompanied by a true friend that only they will know. It’s the Spirit that abided with the disciples after Pentecost and now abides with us. In other words, just as the Father is in Jesus and Jesus is in the Father, so we are in the Spirit and the Spirit in us. Knowing he’s not going to be around much longer, Jesus wants to assure the disciples (and us) that they (and we) will be taken care of. Through the Spirit he’ll continue to nourish our souls….
Let me point out one interesting thing here. The Spirit, as spoken of in verse 17, isn’t to us as individuals. When Jesus says the Spirit abides in you, it’s plural, not singular. In other words, the access to the Spirit is found within the fellowship of the church. It’s within the fellowship that Jesus commands us to love one another, as we abide in God through the Spirit and abide in one another through love.[5] This passage doesn’t support an “individual” being caught up in the spirit. Such experiences occur within the community.
Jesus’ purpose in this discussion is to give comfort to the disciples who are going to miss him. Jesus encourages them with the promise of God’s continual presence through the Holy Spirit. Through this promise, he’s preparing them to go out and build a church, which they did because they knew two things: that Jesus and the Father are one and that he’s still with them in Spirit. Even though Jesus isn’t present in bodily form, he remains with the disciples (and us) by answering prayers and through the presence of the Spirit. The work of the Trinity involves the Father, Son, and Spirit, but through the Spirit, it also involves us.
The early disciples found comfort in Jesus’ words, and we can too. Though Jesus we can know God, and more importantly, we can be forgiven and found to be righteous so that we can enter God’s kingdom. Furthermore, it is comforting to know God’s Spirit, which was first manifested on Pentecost Day so many years ago, is still with us today, ready to lead the church into the 21st century. As a church, our life must be grounded in the Spirit that abides in us. For this reason, the church always has hope. Despite persecution or indifference from the world in which we live, we have something the world doesn’t. We have God’s Spirit, and we need to trust this gift, because it is all that matters. If we abide in the Spirit, we’ll be okay.
Rejoice, today is Pentecost. Be bold, for God is with us. Amen.
©2019
[1] John 14:16-17, 26; 15:26, 16:7-11 and 12-15.
[2] Snappy Steeple Stories, compiled by Oren Arnold, p. 43
[3] John 1:43.
[4] Gerald Sloyan, John: Interpretation: A Bible Commentary for Teaching and Preaching, (Atlanta, JKP, 1808), 180.
[5] Frederick Dale Bruner, The Gospel of John: A Commentary (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2012), 836
Preparing to leave Maul Hammock
This is Part 2 of a 3 part series on a recent trip through the Okefenokee Swamp. Click here for part 1.
It is amazing how tired one can be after a day of paddling. Last night, we both were in our hammocks about 30 minutes after sunset, when we were suddenly bombarded by mosquitoes. For a while, I tried to read, but found myself falling asleep to the sound of night, frogs croaking and insects singing. The most bothersome insects, mosquitoes, were just inches away, on the outside of the hammock’s netting. I wake only one during the evening, to find my left arm pressed against the netting. Several mosquitoes had already feasted upon me through the net. The next time I wake, it is getting light. I hear the mating roar of a few alligators around the edge of the lake. They sound like someone trying to start a two cycle engine, such as an old boat motor or a chainsaw. I get up. With long pants and a long shirt and a little repellant, the mosquitoes aren’t too bad. I decide to fish a bit while Gary slept in. There were only a few open places around the hammock where I am able to drop a popping bug on a fly rod. After a few casts, a fish rises for the bait, but doesn’t take it and soon, I have an alligator friend, a small dude about four feet, watching me. Knowing what I’m doing, like a good friend, he’s ready to help me take any fish off a hook without me getting my hands all slimy. Sadly, for him, I don’t have another bite and, when I put my rod away and began to make breakfast, he heads back under the lily pads in search of his own breakfast.
Gary paddling in Maul Hammock Lake
With only a little over ten miles to paddle to the next platform at Big Water, we take our time getting ready. The morning is gray with a light breeze. As soon as the sun rises, the mosquitoes mostly disappear. We enjoy a breakfast of oatmeal and coffee, finish drying out our clothes from the day before, and pack up. At ten, we leave the platform and paddle toward what we thought was the exit from lake only to find that we’ve missed it. In the high lily pads, it takes us several attempts to find the narrow channel that leads us back to the red trail. As it was with the last five miles the day before, we are often paddling through lily pads that are high and require and extra effort to push our boats through. It’s exhausting work and soon I’m sweaty.
Shortly after leaving Maul Hammock, the trail begins to look more like a regular stream bed as we are entering the headwaters of the Suwanee River. We spend the rest of the morning and into the early afternoon fighting through the lily pads, making a measly mile and a half an hour. The highlight of this day is seeing a large owl fly out from the trees just over me and down the river, where he gains elevation until it’s above the trees and then it turns and leaves the channel and flies into the swam. At one in the afternoon, when we break for some lunch, which we eat in our kayaks. We’ve covered less than five miles. Shortly after lunch, we arrive where, sometime in the past few months, they’ve cut back the lily pads with a machine mounted on a small dredge that chops up the lily pads roots. These roots or rhizome, when floating on the surface, look a lot like an alligator. Despite the looks of the floating rhizomes, the paddling is now easy.
A selfie with Gary in background
We arrive at Big Water platform at 3 PM. There’s a group of three guys who’d paddled up from Stephen Foster State Park. They are taking a rest before paddling back out, as they were not planning on staying the night. They have a cooler with them and offer us a cool beer. I enjoy not just drinking it, but putting the cold can on my sweaty forehead. This platform is on the western edge of a wide spot in the river, with nice views of the cypress line stream in both direction. Later that evening as we prepare dinner, we notice how the bullfrog chorus will seemingly start in one direction and slowly make its way up or down the river, almost like a wave makes itself around a ball park. There are also a number of alligators and we watch several of them argue over territory (or mates). I spend a few minutes fishing but have no luck, but as it was in the morning at Maul Hammock, an alligator stands on point, waiting for something to bite my line so he (or she) might help me keep my hands clean by relieving me of any fish I might catch. There’s a journal in the shelter register and someone suggests that if you hook a fish, you have to reel very fast if you want to keep it away from gators. With all the good food we have with us, we are not going to starve without fish. Instead, we enjoy a peaceful dinner along with a couple of ounces of Woodford Reserve Bourbon (Gary brought the good stuff) as we watch the light fade in the evening. Again, soon after the sun sets, the mosquitoes are back out and we head to our respective hammocks.
Big Water Platform (notice privy in the background)
Sleep isn’t quite as deep this evening. I leave the fly off my hammock in order to get maximum airflow, but at 1:30 AM, a storm is approaching. I get up and put my fly on (while we are under a tin roof, it’s not that wide and the rain will be blown under the roof). Next, I make sure that everything is put up and secured and won’t blow away. Once done, I watch the approaching lightning turn the swamp into a magical place as the cypress and their bearded Spanish moss are silhouetted by the flashes of light. Soon, instead of flashes, we there are streaks of lightning dancing across the sky. I’m in awe. The wind picks up and I get back into my hammock in order to stay dry. Soon, I’m asleep, but wake up several more times as more storms move through the area.
Paddling through Big Water
When I wake in the morning, there is still thunder to the south. But the birds are singing throughout the swamp and the heavy humidity is moderated with an occasional cool breeze. Gary has brought along a can of corn beef hash along with eggs. We have a feast for breakfast, taking our time as we have a fairly short day paddling to Floyd’s Island.
Notice young cypress growing in a burned over area
We leave Big Water at 10 AM. The river stays wide for the next mile or so, then it narrows up into channels where there is some flow of the water, but with tight turns that I often have to stop and backup to get my big kayak (18 foot) through the passage. We paddle through areas that have been burned in fires. Over the past two decades, there have been several summers in which the swamp and surrounding areas have experienced massive fires. But the good news is that the cypress is coming back and are standing eight to twelve feet tall. But it is still sad to see many of these burned out areas, but fire is a natural part of the ecosystem and they open up opportunities for new species of plants and animals to thrive.
Five miles south of Big Water platform, we come to the cut off trail to Floyd’s Island. Both Gary and I have been here before, when we paddled into Floyd’s Island from Stephen Foster State Park. The canal pathway takes us across the bottom of Floyd’s Prairie and then narrows up into a tight tunnel like passage where paddles are used for poling instead of paddling. It rains off and on, but never very hard. Before we know it, we pull up on the sandy beach. We are at Floyd’s Island and it wasn’t even 1 PM. We’d paddled 7 ½ miles.
Floyd’s Island Cabin
Floyd’s Island is named for the leader of the Georgia militia who invaded the swamp during the second Seminole war in 1838. His men found and burned a Seminole village, and named the island for him. They then continued to bushwhack through the swamp. As they headed into the swamp, they were in good condition and well equipped. When they came out on the other side, having done something no Europeans had done, they were ragged, but they had conquered a vast unknown section of the country. Floyd was both intrigued and horrified at the swamp. He called it a most beautiful and an infernal place.
With all afternoon to kill, we haul our gear up to the old cabin on Floyd’s island. We string our hammocks and set up a living room on the front porch. The back of the cabin is blocked off because a huge pine had fallen and crushed part of the back of the cabin. The last time we were here, in 2015, Gary and several others (there was a group of nine of us) slept in the cabin. I decided that night I would stay in my hammock. After hearing about the rats, I assumed I’d made the right decision.
We eat lunch under the front porch during a downpour. A turkey and a fawn with spots make their way through our camp as we wait for the rain to clear. Later in the afternoon, when the storms have cleared, we move our kayaks, portaging over the quarter mile or so of the island, so that we’d be ready for the next day’s paddle. That evening, we cook over an open fire. The smoke helps deter the biting flies. We enjoy crackers and cheese, party nuts, along with some Johnny Walker Black Label. Again, I’m impressed with Gary’s beverage selection. I’m saving my cheap bourbon. Tomorrow, Gary will paddle out of the swamp while I will stay for another night.
Write up of Day 1
A final view of Big Water
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
1 Corinthians 15:51-58
June 2, 2019
I’ve seen the bodies of Ho Chi Minh in Hanoi and Lenin (not John) in Moscow. Walking pass their preserved flesh, I got chill bumps. It was frigid in the mausoleums. I felt a bit sad for Ho. He wrote specific instructions that his body was to be cremated and the ashes scattered all over Vietnam. But when you’re gone, what happens to your body is no longer in your hands. But there was something else I experienced at these mausoleums. Regardless of what you think of these men who were no saints, they are dead. Sooner or later, we’ll all cease to exist. Our current bodies will become useless and eventually revert back to the dust. But that’s not the final word.
Today I’m concluding a series on the resurrection that began on Easter Sunday. Paul, in this passage, celebrates what’s to be. Listen as I read 1 Corinthians 15:51-58.
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Paul ends his resurrection essay on a high-note. He began this essay which takes up the entire 15th chapter with a hymn. Now, he concludes the essay with another hymn celebrating victory over death.[1] We can’t help but to be lifted up with this passage of hope. It’s often read at funerals. “Death has been swallowed up in victory. Where, O death is your victory? Where, O death is your sting.” Victory comes not through our actions, but through our Lord Jesus Christ. Because of him we have hope.
There are a couple of issues raised in this text that I want us to explore this morning. Paul begins almost as if confiding a secret to a friend, “Listen,” he draws the Corinthians in, “let me tell you a mystery.” Paul is writing about something he admits he doesn’t understand; it’s a mystery, but in this mystery resides hope. “We will not all die, but we will all be changed.” Now, there is a question here about what Paul means when he says we will not all die. Who are the “WE?” Some argue that Paul believes Jesus’ return is going to be soon, during their lives. We see a similar thread in Paul’s first letter to the Thessalonians where he comforts those who are concerned about their friends and family members who have died and what will happen to them after Christ returns.[2] If Paul thinks he and some of the Corinthians are going to be alive at Christ’s return, then he changed his mind by the time Paul wrote 2nd Corinthians.[3] However, a more logical interpretation is that Paul looks forward into history and realizes that not all believers are going to have died when Christ returns. The faith is going to still be alive and there will be believers here to welcome Christ when that trumpet of all trumpets sounds.[4]
In this passage, Paul emphasizes the necessity of change. Nothing can stay the same. We have to give up the familiar, our mortal bodies, in order to be resurrected in a new immortal body. Interestingly, Paul insists we will be clothed with immortality which was not taught in the schools of the day. The Greeks assumed immortality was our natural state and it was covered with our bodies; therefore the ideal was the soul, not the flesh covering it. But Paul challenges this notion, for our bodies are, in and of themselves, good.[5] We are, after all, created by God. But, with the resurrection, we obtain the imperishable, that which we cannot obtain in this life and in these bodies.
The putting on of the imperishable clothing, the donning of immortality, may have created in his hearer’s mind an image of the investiture of a king or emperor. When crowned, they put on new robes. They are the same in that they have the same body, but the new clothing makes them also a new person.[6]
As I noted earlier, it’s interesting how Paul book-ends his essay on the resurrection with fragments of what was most likely an ancient hymn. Paul uses lyrics which were probably sung by congregations in order to connect with something familiar to his readers. Paul’s speaking of a mystery and music has a way to say more to us than just the lyrics, so it is appropriate that Paul incorporates such a hymn as he concludes his treatment of the resurrection.[7]
As Paul comes to the end of our passage for today, he makes a powerful statement. In the last two verses, he uses the term “Lord” four times. The modern British theologian, N. T. Wright, suggests that “like a warrior triumphing over a fallen enemy, Paul mocks the power that has now become powerless.” The victory is in our Lord Jesus Christ! He is a Lord in a manner that Caesar can never be![8] Paul lifts up Jesus’ victory as a way to call everyone in Corinth back to what is important.
Paul brings this essay to a conclusion with a final statement in which he calls the Corinthians, “my beloved.” It’s like saying, “My dear friends.” As he’d shown at the beginning of the letter, Paul is fond of the Corinthians even though throughout the letter, he’s been admonishing them for their disunity, their toleration of grievous sin, their lack of order within worship and their mockery of the Lord’s Supper. Yet, Paul still likes these people. He’s not ready to write them off, as we might be. There’s a lesson for us here! Don’t consider anyone beyond redemption! This passage which Paul has been looking into the future ends by bringing the Corinthians back to the present and to what they need to be doing.[9] It’s not too late to get things right.
When I was in college I lived in a garage apartment about a mile off campus. It was a nice place, on a side street with just a few homes and this one garage with an apartment above it. There was a porch, with stairs that ran down to the ground. The porch was large enough for a chair and a couple of potted plants. On Saturday mornings when the weather was decent and I wasn’t off paddling a river somewhere, I could be found sitting in a chair, my feet propped up on the railing, reading or just pondering while I had my morning coffee. It was the good life. I enjoyed birds flying by and singing in the trees. It was a dead-end street, so traffic didn’t bother me. It was also a safe neighborhood as the Chief of Police lived at the end of the road.
One Saturday, I had visitors. The Jehovah Witnesses were going two-by-two, door-to-door, one group on each side of the street. The two who came up the steps to my porch were an older white man, probably about the age of my granddaddy, with a younger African-American woman who wasn’t much older than I was at the time. I was intrigued. This was in the late 70s, and this was the South and I remember thinking this sight wasn’t anything I’d see in a Presbyterian Church (not that we’d be seen going door-to-door). Furthermore, I was pretty sure I’d not see such a sight in a Methodist or Baptist or any of the other churches within the city. There was something refreshing about the two of them and I recalled the song I’d learned in Sunday School: “Jesus loves the little children, all the children of the world, red and yellow, black and white, they are precious in sight…” Judging from how Paul had scolded the Corinthians for their divisions, such a sight would have brought a smile to his face.
We talked for a bit about everything wrong in the world, and at the time there was plenty wrong, as there is now. When I asked what they thought we should do about the sufferings in the world, the man smiled. “We don’t need to do anything as this means Jesus is coming back soon and he’ll take care of everything.” It sounded like a cop-out to me. We debated. When they finally left, we were at an impasse. Neither of us changed our minds.
Had I, as a twenty year old, spent much time with this letter from Paul, I might have brought up this passage. Even though the future is out of our hands, it doesn’t absolve us of the responsibility to try to make a difference in the world, of trying to make things better. That’s what I think Paul means at the end of the chapter where, drawing upon all he’s written here about the resurrection, he concludes by reminding everyone, to “be steadfast, immovable, always excelling in the work of the Lord, because you know that in the Lord your labor is not in vain.”
Paul wasn’t always successful in his work. As far as we know, he didn’t establish a church everywhere he travelled, though he tried. Many if not most of the congregations he created were small. This doesn’t sound like what we might define as “excelling,” which may be why the Message paraphrase translates it this way, “Don’t hold back. Throw yourselves into the work of the Master, confident that nothing you do for him is a waste of time or effort.”
For Paul, as I hope you have understood in these five sermons, the resurrection isn’t just a doctrine that gives us hope for the future; the resurrection provides us the excitement for God’s work in the present. As disciples of Jesus, we have something to look forward to. Our last breath in these bodies isn’t the end. We shall all be changed and that should give us confidence and make us unafraid of taking risks and doing what is good and noble today. Amen.
[1] Kenneth E. Bailey, Paul Through Mediterranean Eyes: Cultural Studies in 1 Corinthians (Dowers Grove, IL: IVP Press, 2011), 468.
[2] 1 Thessalonians 4:13-17
[3] 2 Corinthians 5:1-10
[4] Bailey, 472.
[5] William F. Orr and James Arthur Walter, The Anchor Bible: 1 Corinthians (Garden Grove, NY: Doubleday, 1976), 350, n53
[6] Bailey, 473.
[7] Bailey 472-473
[8] Bailey 474-475.
[9] Bailey, 476-477.
Paddling through a prairie (before Double Lake)
Old Railroad logging skidder
We leave our vehicles at Okefenokee Adventures where we have arranged for a shuttle to our put-in site some twenty-five miles to the north. In five days (four for Gary, who will leave a day before me), I’ll come out of the swamp here. Our shuttle driver is a retired mechanic from CSX railroad. As he drives us to Kingfisher Landing, he points out old Hard-shell Baptist Churches that still sing shape-note music. When he hears that our first night will be at Maul Hammock, he tells us the story of the first reported account of Bigfoot, which occurred in the early part of the 19th Century near where will be camping. Seven men went into the swamp and were attacked by a huge hairy beast. Supposedly, the beast was killed but not before he killed five of the men. The other two fled before any of Bigfoot’s friends could finish the job. A hammock, in this country, is a piece of high ground with trees. The “Maul” part comes from the supposedly attack by Bigfoot. When we arrive at Kingfisher Landing, he points us over to the woods opposite the canal, where the rusty remains of an old logging truck designed to run on rails sits.
Preparing to launch
We push off from Kingfisher Landing a little after 10 AM. The air is hot and heavy with humidity. There are some clouds in the sky. Our trail, an old canal, is mostly straight, fairly wide, and runs eastward into the swamp. We pass a few alligators. Occasionally a frog jumps into the water as we approach. At the two mile mark, we take the red trail to the northeast and skirt along the northern edge of Cedar Prairie. The water is low, as it often is this time of the year. I am a little worried that we may have a hard time in places, but the first five or so miles, to where there trail folks with a side trail running to Double Lakes, is clear and easy to paddle. This area is open to boats with motors under 10 horsepower. It seems the fishermen have kept the channel clean. I hope they bring plenty of shear pins for their prop, for the lily pads would do a number on them. I’d thought about paddling up into Double Lakes, but there’s now clouds in the sky and thunder is occasionally heard in the distance. We are only halfway to Maul Hammock, where we will spend the evening on a platform above the water.
It’s good that we didn’t explore because after the turn-off to Double Lakes, the trail becomes more difficult. In places, lily pads and other weeds fill the channel and often seem to grab and hold on to your paddle. It’s a workout, but we keep paddling. The lily pads include the elegant blooming white lotus plants and some of the more bland yellow blooms. Along the sides of the path, where it is open, are hooded pitcher plants, purple swamp irises and pickerel weed with its purple torch-like flowers. At places, bladderworts, odd flowering plants that grow in water, are seen. Like the pitcher plants, they too are carnivorous. With so many insect eating plants, you’d think bugs wouldn’t be a problem. The abundance of these plants are an indication of the poor soil, so they have evolved to obtain nutrients from other sources. And there seems to be plenty of mosquitoes and biting flies to feed these plants, as we’ll later experience.
Finally, the trail turns to the southwest. We still two miles to go, but the thunder that’s been rolling for the past hour or so has moved closer. We pick up the pace, but paddling through thick vegetation is exhausting.
the start of the rain
We leave the prairie and paddle through tall cypress and bay trees, with briers and other vegetation lining the channel. There are few lily pads to fight, but the channel is so tight that we must keep the paddle up and down, close to the sides of the boat. The thunder becomes more intense and we hear it crackle across the sky. When we enter another prairie and have a better view, clearly defined lightning bolts are popping all around. It’s beginning to rain. Soon, the bolts are striking only a few hundred yards away, followed by a nearly instantaneous boom that vibrates across the swamp. We paddle harder as the rain comes. The drops are think and heavy and drown out the sounds of the swamp. As the rain becomes heavier, the lightning moves further away. We continue to paddle harder and after an intense 20 minute downpour, that soaks us both and, since neither are us are wearing spray skirts, drops a few inches of water into our boats.
Gary setting up his hammock at Maul Hammock Platform
As the rain subsides, we pump out some of the water from the boat and paddle on toward the side trail to Maul Hammock platform. We enter a lake filled with lily pads that, in places, are up to our shoulders. The platform is to our left, at the edge of the lake. We head toward it as the water continues to drizzle. As we are pulling the boats up onto the platform, we notice a few stray bolts of lightning on the backside of the storm. It’ll be good to get into dry clothes, to fix a drink and dinner, and to rest. It’s been a long day as we’ve covered nearly 13 long miles.
Sunset from Maul Hammock Platform (right before an air force of mosquitoes descend)
David Halberstam, The Fifties (1993, New York: Ballantine Books, 1994), 800 pages including index’s and notes, plus 32 pages of black and white prints.
The decade was 70% completed when I was born. I have no recall of the 1950s, even though I was born late in the decade. Having now read this massive history, I now feel as if I lived through the decade.
Halberstam begins his story with Truman’s election of 1948, the Soviet test of a nuclear weapon in 1949, and the beginning of the Korean War in 1950. The short time the United States had as the leader of the world and the only nation with nuclear weapons had come to an end. We were beginning a new era, the Cold War. The uneasy situation with the Soviets would remain throughout the decade and Halberstam ends this book with the story of the U2 being shot down over Russia (which ended Eisenhower’s quest for a nuclear treaty) and the planning for the Bay of Pigs invasion of Cuba.
A lot happened in the 1950s and, as Halberstam points out, much of what occurred in the 60s had its roots in the 50s. From music to Vietnam, civil rights to foreign policies, the sexual revolution to television, space and science to the rise of suburbia, McCarthy to Kerouac, the 60s (and 70s) grew out of seeds planted in the 50s. Halberstam follows these developments through vignettes, stories of what was happening. In ways, the stories can stand alone, but taken together they paint a picture of vibrant decade that too often has been portrayed as sleepy.
Many of the people whom Halberstam writes about are well known and became even more famous in the 1960s (Richard Nixon, Hugh Hefner, Marlo Brando, Marlyn Monroe, Elvis Presley, Martin Luther King, among others). Others were less well known, but their ideas caught on as they developed fancy car designs, hotel and restaurant empires, housing tracks, and pushed America into a consumer culture. As I approached the end of the book, I was shocked to see one such individual that I knew personally. Kensinger Jones (pages 629-635) spent his retirement years on a farm south of Hastings, Michigan. He was a member of First Presbyterian Church in Hastings while I was pastor. Unfortunately, he was unable to be very active due to health issues, but I often visited with him and his wife Alice and enjoyed our conversations. Ken Jones was responsible for a series of Chevrolet ads that weren’t designed to “sell cars, but to sell dreams.” These ads were essentially a mini-story told visually as the consumer was encouraged to “See the U.S.A. in your Chevrolet.” While Ken certainly appreciated the power of the image, as Halberstam notes, he also appreciated the written word. After he could no longer attend church, he would read my sermons and often wrote notes of appreciation. And he was an author himself. I have two of his books on my shelf today.
Toward the end of Eisenhower’s presidency, there were those who suggested it was a shame there was the 23rd Amendment that kept a President from running for a third term. Eisenhower, whom it seems in Halberstam was never sure if he wanted to be President, would have nothing to do with such talk. He didn’t want a third term nor did he think anyone should be President over the age of 70. I wonder what Ike would think about our last election with both candidates over the 70 mark?
This is a wonderful book with many great stories. Even those who have no memories of the 1950s will find themselves entertained and will learn how this decade influenced future decades in America.
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
First Corinthians 15:35-50
May 26, 2019
Today, I’m in my fourth of five sermons on the 15th Chapter of Paul’s first letter to the church in Corinth. That may sound like a lot of sermons, but it’s a long chapter! Two weeks ago, we talked about the ethical consequences of the resurrection. For Paul, the resurrection isn’t just something that only affects us in the future; the resurrection is the reason for us to live for Christ in the present. In this section, Paul returns to his discussion about Christ and Adam as he discusses the “resurrected body.”[1]
It appears Paul’s reason for this discussion is to convince those in Corinth who question the resurrection. They may have formerly been Jewish Sadducees. The Pharisees, if you remember, believed in a resurrection, but the Sadducees taught that this life was it. Paul addresses such disbelief in the first half of his response. Now, as he moves toward his conclusion of the topic, he addresses what he anticipates to be the follow-up question. Having maintained that there is no resurrection, these critics of Paul’s teachings might come back to Paul’s challenge and ask, “Well, Mr. Big Shot, since you say there is a resurrection, how is this going to happen and what are we going to look like?” Let’s hear what Paul has to say. Read 1 Corinthians 15:35-50.
Have you had an experience where you dreaded what was to come and then found yourself unexpectedly pleased by what happened?
I woke up at 6 AM to the sounds of the Star Spangled Banner blaring from the radio. It was the day after Labor Day, 1988. KECH with its whopping 58 watts of amplification began the day’s broadcast up and down the Wood River Valley. The station was off air between midnight and 6 AM, so instead of setting an alarm clock, I just left the radio on at night. I went to sleep to music and woke feeling patriotic. I had become accustomed to getting up in this manner during the summer at Camp Sawtooth in the Boulder Mountains of Idaho. As the music played I’d wash up, brush my teeth, dress, and head down to the dining hall where I’d build a fire to ward off the morning chill. Throughout the summer, when I came into the dining hall, the cooks would already be in the kitchen, fixing breakfast. The smell of coffee perking and bacon frying would fill the air. It had been a near perfect summer. But this morning was different.
I dreaded getting out of bed. The cooks were gone for the season. I had to fix my own coffee. Yesterday, the last weekend group for the summer had left and camp became eerily silent. If you have ever worked at camp for a summer, you’ll know the feeling I’m expressing. There were only three of us left in that canyon, and we’d all be heading out after lunch. The morning would be busy draining pipes and closing up the camp for winter. When it came time to leave, we’d lock the buildings and gates and our summer in the valley under the tall lodgepole pines between even taller mountains would be over.
After listening to the news and the weather (it was below freezing in the mountains, but would warm up and be another sunny day in paradise) I reluctantly crawled out of bed. I made coffee for Jack and Evelyn, our caretaker and his wife. I laid a fire in the wood stove one final time.
It wasn’t just leaving camp that I was dreading. I was worried about what was ahead in my life. That spring, I had agreed to spend a year in Virginia City, Nevada. It sounded exciting back in March: to be a student pastor, preaching every Sunday, and living in this desert town. Now the time was at hand, I wasn’t sure I was up for the task. First of all, I had to come up for a sermon every week. And then, I’d be living in Nevada. This was back in the 80s, before casinos dotted the landscape. Having been raised to consider gambling a sin, it made me nervous to be where it was in your face.
Furthermore, Storey County, in which Virginia City sits, had legalized prostitution, a troublesome idea that made me wonder how I’d relate as a pastor, a public representative of God. Finally, even the drive to Virginia City seemed daunting. Much of it was on two-lane roads through mountainous deserts. The last leg included the infamous forty-mile desert where there isn’t a drop of water to be found. I’d just read a book on this stretch the pioneers dreaded and even though I’d be flying through that part of the trip at freeway speeds, there was something about going through this desert that made me nervous. It didn’t get any better the next morning, when I stopped in Lovelock at the edge of this desert and noticed one of my tires going flat. I took it to a shop and sure enough there was a nail in the rubber. It was good I found it when I did; however, it seemed a bad omen. Have you ever been there where you just dreaded what’s next?
Of course, with the exception of that nail, the trip was uneventful. I arrived in Virginia City and after a week or so of feeling out-of-place, it became home. As much as I had enjoyed the summer, I really enjoyed that year in Nevada, as most of you have probably surmised from stories I’ve told. The dread turned into a blessing. Have you had such an experiences?
We have a God who loves to surprise us. Ours is a God who invites those at the back of the line to come to the front. He’s a God of love who’s willing to forgive and to allow us a chance to start afresh. He’s a God of protection and refuses to abandon us. He’s a God of glory who shares his majesty through the beauty of a sunrise or a rainbow after a thunderstorm. God can take what we dread and provide a memorable experience. And the resurrection is the ultimate example.
We all dread death, don’t we, but our hope is in the resurrection, which can only be experienced after death. In the resurrection, God reverses our fortune and we’re changed from dead to eternal. Just don’t ask me how. It’s just God’s way. But before I go to what Paul has to say, I should note that such dread of change can be an issue in all areas of our lives. We even find ourselves having such feelings in the church. As people, it seems we like to resist change even though it’s the only thing certain in life… Yet, we’re always nervous about the future. This shows our lack of trust in others (which can be expected, for we’ve all been let down at one time or another). But it also displays a lack of trust in God. We seem to forget that God has things under control; it’s not really up to us.
You know, we’re involved in a Strategic Planning process and this passage speaks to the fear we have of such a process. None of us like change? But to loosely summarize what Paul says here: “sometimes things have to die so that something new and better can come into being…”
As I said before reading this passage, Paul begins asking what probably had been a follow-up question by those who were denying the resurrection. “Just how are the dead raised, Paul? What kind of body will they have?” Paul doesn’t mince his words here and replies with a passionate response, “Fool.” You can’t be much more emphatic than that! He continues by noting what is planted as a seed has to “in essence” die (as it’s buried in the earth) in order to come to life as a new plant. He also notes there are different kinds of flesh and different kinds of bodies as he points to other animals and even to the heavens… We live in a wonderfully unique world.
Of course, this world to come, this resurrected body we’re to inherit, is still a mystery. But it will be amazing, according to Paul. Our bodies are perishable, but after the resurrection, they’ll be imperishable. Due to sin, our bodies have been dishonored, but the resurrected body will be glorious. Our bodies today grow weak, but in the life to come our bodies will be strong. The resurrection will result in a new spiritual body—which by the way doesn’t mean we’ll be ghost-like, for Paul insists that we’ll have bodies.
Next, Paul returns to the topic he’d brought up earlier in the chapter: Adam and Jesus. Adam is the man of dust. God created him as God created us. If there was any question about Christians believing in reincarnation, Paul negates such ideas here when he insists there is no spiritual beginning for us. This idea was no doubt prevalent in Corinth as it is found in Platonic thought. At the end of Plato’s classic work, The Republic, he describes how spirits leave one world to be born in this world.[2] But this isn’t a Christian idea. Many New Agers as well as Mormons, Hindus and Buddhists believe either in some form of pre-existent spiritual presence or reincarnation, but such thoughts are not a part of our theology. As Paul shows, we are from the dust.
But there is one who transcends the dust, the one who in Revelation is known as “the alpha and the omega, the first and the last, who is and who was and who is to come.”[3] Although this man was from heaven, he set aside his glory and power and assumed a life in the flesh.[4] With Adam, the man of dust, we share his sinful imprint. However, with Jesus, the man of heaven, we too will share his imprint, and it will be glorious. But that’s in the life to come and we’re all going to dread what it takes to get there, for our perishable bodies must return to the elements before we can arise with glorious new and eternal bodies.
Does Paul tell us what heaven is going to be like? No, not really, except that we will have bodies. Instead, he places his trust in a loving God that has our best interest at heart. And he encourages us to do the same. Yes, there is a resurrection and whatever lies on the other side of death is going to be far more glorious than we can ever imagine in this life.
As followers of Jesus, we shouldn’t spend too much time fretting and worrying about the future. “Don’t worry about tomorrow,” Jesus tells us.[5] God’s got it under control. Yes, life is going to be full of changes, but such changes won’t even begin to compare to the transformation we’ll experience at the end. Living with the confidence of the resurrection should mean that we fear changes less in this life, for the long-term forecast is for things to be incredible. Amen.
©2019
[1] Compare this to 1 Corinthians 15:21-24. I am basing my thoughts upon ideas set forth by Kenneth E. Bailey in Paul Through Mediterranean Eyes: Cultural Studies in 1 Corinthians (Dowers Grove, IL: IVP, 2011).
[2] See Plato, The Republic, Chapter X
[3] Revelation 1:8. See also Revelation 21:6 and 22:13.
[4] See Philippians 2:6-8
[5] Matthew 6:25.
Yesterday’s worship service focused on our responsible use of social media. Here is a review of a book that reminds the church how we might use such media in a positive way. Click here to read yesterday’s sermon, “A Light in the World”
Meredith Gould, The Social Media Gospel: Sharing the Good News in New Ways, second edition (Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, 2015), 180 pages, index and notes.
This easily read book encourages churches to support social media as a way to expand their communication and outreach. Sadly, it is four years old. The digital world is rapidly changing as new venues come online and changes are made to existing ones. The author, a committed Roman Catholic, writes for an ecumenical audience. She often quoting those from other Christian traditions. The forward for this edition is even written by the Reverend David Hansen, a Lutheran pastor in Texas.
The book consists of three sections with a number of helpful appendixes. In the first section, which I found most helpful, she debunks the idea that social media destroys community. Instead, it creates new types of communities. She also has a brief chapters on generational differences, learning styles, and personality types. She helpfully points out that what one person finds annoying could be what draws another person into the community (22). Such a reminder is helpful, for it is too easy to let the most outspoken critics drive us, which often leading to inefficient efforts that fail to accomplish anything. A little grace by all of us goes a long way toward accomplishing the church’s mission.
Gould provides an interesting take on the old 80/20 rule. She suggests that 80% of our content on social media should be about building community and only 20% to be about promoting and reporting on the news of the organization. I have heard similar ideas from several other sources writing about business use of social media, one of which suggested that you try to build up your reputation (or brand), offer five helpful solutions for every “sales pitch” you make. A second interesting “rule” (which she credits to Jakob Nielsen) is the 90/9/1 Rule. 90% of the people observe your social media presence, 9% occasionally participate by commenting or interacting, and 1% dominate by providing most of the content and comments. She suggested the 1% are important for they are our ambassadors/evangelists, but that we also don’t forget that we may be reaching a lot more people than those who participate. (26)
There were a number of other gleaming I found helpful in Gould’s opening section. She suggests that technology provides a means to prepare people for the sacraments, but it does not replace or provide the sacrament. (10) There is still need for real presence within the community. I also found it helpful how Gould describes the development of online communities. Online, things move approximately three times faster than in the real world. People engage much quicker and they also stay engaged shorter periods of time than they might in the face-to-face world. (31)
The second section of this book offers guidelines into developing a social media strategy and provides a basic overview for top mediums of social media: blogging, Facebook, LinkedIn, Pinterest, Instagram, Twitter, YouTube, Snapchat. For each of these groups, she provides suggestions on ways the church might use them to further its mission. While she does not suggest that the church attempt to use all of these mediums, but to pick those which would best for the church’s situation (there are helpful questions that can guide such decisions), she is a big fan of Twitter. While she doesn’t suggest that Twitter is for everyone, she tells of her “conversion.”
The final section of the book is titled “Making Social Media Work.” There are several helpful chapters here that focus on how social media can be integrated into a church’s communication strategy, how to develop content (and share it on multiple platforms), handling burnout, best practices for social media use and how to handle online conflict. As for creating content, it needs to be short (according to her suggestion, this review is about 250 words longer than it should be J).
While I found parts of this book dated and a little elementary, Gould provides useful tools to help congregations discuss this new world in which we live. And, as for it being elementary, I must remember that may not be the case for everyone. After all, I’ve had a blog for over 15 years, have served churches with websites for 25 years, and have been on Facebook for nearly a dozen years. Others may find this book to be right at the level as they began engaging in this new online world.
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
Matthew 5:14-16
May 19, 2019
Over the past year, Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church has invested a lot of money along with both volunteer and staff time to help our congregation improve its technology. Last summer, we added the monitors, getting rid of the screen, that eye-sore behind the chancel that was hard to see. We also added cameras to record the service and other events held in our sanctuary. Then we started streaming our services over the internet, which is popular among those unable to make it to church because of traveling, being home bound, or in the hospital.[1] We’ve even offer a way to give online. All of this is a way to help us better connect to our community. Let me now put a plug in for a discipleship opportunity: we are always in need of people to help us with this ministry. If you would like to volunteer, speak to one of the volunteers in the sound booth or see Jim Brown or me.
Our world is changing. We are more mobile. We are living longer and the last years are often more restricted. As a congregation, this investment helps us continue as a beacon of hope in a dark world. After all, that’s what Jesus calls us to do as we’ll see in today’s reading. I am going to take a break from working through the resurrection passages in 1 Corinthians and look at some Jesus’ thoughts from the Sermon on the Mount.
The Sermon on the Mount begins in the fifth chapter of the Gospel of Matthew and continues for three chapters. We’re told Jesus is on a hill and the disciples and other followers have gathered around him. He begins teaching with a series of nine beatitudes: blessed are the poor in spirit, the meek, the peacemakers, and so on. Then, there’s a bridge between the beatitudes and the commands that fill out his sermon. This is the “you are” section, from which we will read today. There are two “you ares”: salt and light. I should also note that the “you” here is plural. Jesus is saying, “You folks,” or as we say down here, “y’all.” Y’all are the salt and the light. This isn’t only for individuals. This is a community task, it’s the role of the church, as we’ll see.[2] Read Matthew 5:14-16.
###
What does it mean today to be a light to the world? And what did this mean to those in the first century?
In early 2000, I spent several weeks in Korea where I had been invited to preach and, conveniently, as my parents were living there at the time, to visit them. I was able, as the old cliché goes, “kill two birds with one stone.” I flew into Seoul at night. This was the old airport that the city had grown up around. I was shocked as the plane made a low approach over the city to see numerous neon and lighted crosses on buildings. They were all over the place. Is this what it means to let your light shine?
The Koreans borrowed this idea from the West. In the old villages in Europe, a church and its steeple was the center of town. You could see the steeple from far off. In America, we adopted such ideas. Consider a New England village with the tall steeple in the middle. Or look at the downtown Savannah skyline, with large steeples rising high over the trees, providing visibility and, in many cases, a maintenance nightmare. The purpose is to keep everyone mindful of the church as the center of our lives, where together we focus and praise God. Jesus talks of a city built on a hill that can’t be hidden, so if you build a city in a valley, you put up a steeple to make it more visible.
I’ve told you before about our family’s exile from North Carolina when I was 6 years old and how I spent the first three years of school in Virginia. I still remember one of the churches we attended there—Second Presbyterian Church in Petersburg. It was an old church in the downtown area that had endured much. During the Civil War, its tall steeple was hit by a Union canon ball.[3] They had a hard time with the tall steeple and after it was blown off in a tornado and hurricane, so they opted for a shorter tower. The church I served in Ellicottville, New York used to have an 80 foot spire on top of the bell tower that soared over the city. But after being hit by lightning, they opted for a stubby top. Is this the way we shine light on the world? Or, is our light through our actions?
As I pointed out, Jesus is making a transition from the blessings he’s offered to the more instructional part of the sermon. I encourage you to read these entire three chapters to see what’s happening. In a way, he’s giving this humble and struggling collection of people a great compliment. They are to be his light in the world. God chooses the marginal. The poor and the powerless are instilled with an important mission. Jesus, the light of the world, takes such a motley group and sets them off on an important assignment. Through our good deeds (we’re a part of this group), others watch and hopefully are impressed and seek out God. They, and we, are not to do good works to be praised, but so that our heavenly Father will be praised.
Note this: Jesus makes a point to say, “your heavenly Father.”[4] He repeats this emphasis in the next chapter in the Lord’s Prayer, where we begin “Our Father.”[5] From the very beginning, Jesus sees us as a part of his family. God is not just Jesus’ father.
So, are we a light to the world? That’s a question we should ask ourselves as I turn this sermon back to the focus of the morning—our use of technology.
In our Old Testament reading, we hear the story of the “fall.” In the story of the Adam and Eve eating the forbidden fruit. It wasn’t that they picked a bad piece of fruit, it was that they were trying to be like God as they disobeyed a direct command from the Almighty. Much of our knowledge is morally neutral. It becomes problematic only when we use it in the wrong manner or for the wrong reasons, such as playing God. Technology is full of examples. Nuclear energy can be used to treat cancer and produce power and it can be used to blow the planet up. The same can be said for the internet. It’s a great tool for research, but we can also spread untruths and confusion. And social media, it’s a great tool to connect with others, but we can also use it to spread gossip. We can use these tools to be a light to the world or, as there’s always a downside, to cast darkness.
Jesus calls us to be a light. I pray our use of technology here at SIPC is doing that, helping us to be a light as we share the message of hope to the world. But we need to go deeper for we are all a part of this body. Because of this, we all need to take our own inventory of how we are letting your light shine? You know, if you have the church sticker on your car, it would be a good thing to be polite when you drive. Otherwise, people will have the wrong idea of what we teach in church.
You don’t won’t to like the guy who was pulled over, arrested, and hauled off to jail for stealing a car. He protested continually. After an hour of checking his story, the police apologized. “I couldn’t believe it was your car,” the officer said. “You have all these bumper stickers about loving Jesus and following you to church. After you gave the finger, shouted obscenities, and laid on your horn at the driver who was obviously lost, I just assumed you had stolen the vehicle.”
Our actions often speak louder than our words.
If you use social media, do you use it in a way that brings God glory? Before you post something, ask if God is being glorified. You don’t have to make everything about God, but if you post or share something that is untrue or of a questionable nature, you are not being a light to the world. If you belittle those with whom you disagree, you are not being very Christ-like and your light isn’t shinning.
As the church enters the technological world in which we live, I also encourage you, if you use such technologies, to do so in a way that will help further our light in the world. Online, we Christians can respectfully answer questions about our faith, we can offer comfort to those who grieve or live in fear, we can help meet the needs of others, we can help empower others to further God’s work, we can help create loving digital communities, and show the love of Jesus in a compelling ways.[6]
Just “liking” or “sharing” posts about our church helps us share our message with others. Don’t let this new world scare you. And there’s more you can do. Help a neighbor who is homebound reconnect with church through our streaming services. Feel free to share a gleaming you gathered from a sermon, or tell of your feelings of a piece of scripture, or how a hymn or choir anthem spoke to you. But whatever you do, do it in a way that will bring a smile to Jesus’ face and help us reflect his face in a positive way to the world. Remember, as we heard in the chancel drama, Jesus has no online presence, but yours. No blog, no Facebook page, but yours.[7] Amen.
©2019
[1] To watch the streaming on Sunday mornings at 10 AM, go to our www.sipres.org and click “watch live”.
[2] Frederick Dale Bruner, The Christbook: Matthew 1-12 (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2004), 192 and Douglas R. A. Hare, Matthew: Interpretation, a Bible Commentary for Teaching and Preaching (Louisville, KY: JKP, 1993), 44.
[3] This is what I remember being told as a child. For this church in the Civil War (in which it was one of two to stay open throughout the siege of Petersburg, see: https://emergingcivilwar.com/2016/12/08/petersburgs-second-presbyterian-church-and-the-final-christmas-of-the-war/
[4] Bruner, 163.
[5] Matthew 6:9ff.
[6] I modified this list from one created by Rachel Lemons Aitken, “Digital Discipleship” Ministry (May 2019), 23.
[7] This is a contemporary take on St. Teresa of Avila’s prayer, “Christ has no body:”
Christ has no online presence but yours,
no blog, no Facebook page but your,
Yours are the tweets through which love touches this world,
Yours are the post through which the Gospel is shared,
Yours are the updates through which hope is revealed.
Christ has no online presence by yours,
no blog, no Facebook page but yours..
By Meredith Gould, The Social Media Gospel: Share the Good News in New Ways, 2nd Edition (Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, 2015), 9.
I’m catching up on my reading… I keep thinking I’ll write short reviews for posts like this and I never do! These are some of the books I’ve read over the past month.
Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, Purple Hibiscus (2003, New York: Random House/Anchor, 2004), 309 pages.
This is the first novel for Adichie, a Nigerian author. The story is set in her country during a politically unstable time. Kambili, a fifteen year old girl, is attempting to makes sense of her world. Her father is rich, generous, powerful, and a devout Catholic. In addition to factories, he owns a newspaper that isn’t afraid of speaking out against the corruption of the government. But at home he’s a tyrant. He makes his children live by a strict schedule and demands perfection. If they are not first in their class, they’re punished. He leads his family in saying their rosary and in prayers daily, but even these times are strict and rigorous. He’s highly thought of in the church, but is cruel and abusive with his children and wife. Kambili and her older brother Jana are treated terribly. In anger, he deformed one of Jaja’s fingers and at another time made his children stand barefooted in the tub while he pours hot water from a tea kettle on their feet.
Java and Kambili are granted a respite from their troubles when they are allowed to stay with their Aunty Ifeoma for a few weeks. He sends them with his driver, the trunk loaded with extra bottles of gas for her stove and sacks of rice and other foot stuff. Their aunt is also religious but she has a much more gentle faith, even praying that her family might experience laughter. She is a professor at the university, but there is unrest even there. At the aunt’s home, Kambili falls for a young priest, Father Amani. She is coming of age and is shocked to learn that all the women are interested in him. There, they also spend more time with their grandfather, whom their father has essentially disowned because he still worships in the old (non-Christian) ways.
They go back to their aunt’s after Kambili is severely beaten by her father and spends time in the hospital. This sets up the conclusion of the story, which has twist that I won’t spoil.
This book explores many themes. The tension between old traditions and newer (European) ways, the problems experienced by post-colonial countries like Nigeria, the lure of the West (Aunty Ifeoma ends up moving to America and Father Amani is sent to Germany). The book also deals with themes of abuse, corruption, and how a man like Kambili’s father can be brave and generous and evil at the same time. Adichie’s writings draw heavily on the setting and one can smell the flowers blooming and the downpours in rainy season.
I recommend this book! I think it is important for us to look into other cultures and in this era of debate over immigration, Adichie’s provides insight into what native people in a post-colonial country thinks about Europe and America.
Rick Bragg, The Best Cook in the World: Tales from My Momma’s Table (2018), 19 hours and 17 minutes on audible.
I listened to this book, read by the author. It’s a treat to listen to Bragg read his own words as his accent brings the book alive. However, this will be a book that I also plan to buy and keep as a hard copy, for the stories are wonder and every chapter ends with a recipe or two.
Over the past twenty years, Bragg has told many of his family stories, but this book tells the stories from a different focus, the kitchen table. Every dish he writes about comes with a family story, some going back to his great-grandfather. He was a wild man who, at the request of his son, taught his daughter-in-law (Bragg’s grandmother) how to cook. While Bragg never knew his grandfather or great-grandfather, both who died before his birth, he did know his grandmother and wrote about her and her husband in his book, Ava’s Man. As he tells of hard times and the good food that sustained the family, we are treated with wonderful stories. Bragg can make his reader lust after pig feet (I remember my mother’s mother eating pickled pig feet and all it took for me to try it). Many of his stories are about how to procure pigs and cows to eat. His family was involved in some minor incidents of larceny, which long after the guilty have passed on, can be quite humorous. And then there are the chickens and how the roosters who enjoyed pecking at the ankles of his grandmother were soon destined for Sunday dinner.
Some of his stories have a familiar ring to them. He speaks of baking possum on a hardwood plank and then throwing away the possum and eating the board. I’ve heard this same story many times in cooking shad, a fish that runs up rivers along the East Coast. Shad was to be nailed to a board and then the board consumed. Another familiar story is a variation of “stone soup,” where his grandfather made “ax head soup” for a bunch of hobos. But he also had meat and some beverages to help complete their feast. It was his grandfather’s way to helping those who were in the same predicament in life as he had once been. There was a tenderness in this show of generosity.
Bragg gives inside into another southern treat, poke salad. Most people would have never heard of such thing had it not been for the song, “Poke Salad Annie.” But I remember poke salad from my grandma, my father’s mother. Although I don’t remember her fixing it, she talked about how you prepare the tender young leaves. The plant is poisonous, so one has to take the young leaves and boil it in several pots of water, throwing away the water that contains the toxins. When one has to take such care to rid toxins, it’s not worth it. I’ll stick turnip greens.
There are many other great stories around making biscuits, cornbread, greens, fish, fried chicken and deserts. This book will delight your taste buds and make you long for good home cooking.
Jack Kelly, The Edge of Anarchy: the Railroad Barons, the Gilded Age, and the Greatest labor uprising in America (2019) 11 hours and 15 minutes on Audible.
This book is in keeping with a long lists of books about America in the late 19th Century which I’ve read this past year. The book focuses on two key people, George Pullman and Eugene V. Debs. The late 19th Century was a period of unrest in this country as Kelly points out. This was the era of Coxey’s army marching on Washington, along with large strikes by workers and anarchist ready to toss a bomb (sometimes literally) into simmering conflicts.
Pullman was the founder of the “palace car empire” and a very wealthy man. Not only did he build sleeping cars, he maintained control of his cars by leasing them to the railroads instead of selling them. This way, he not only built the cars but provided staff that operated the rolling hotels and was able to shuffle cars between railroads, allowing customers to stay in a car as the train passed over multiple railroads. Pullman was innovated in many ways. He attempted to build an upscale company town. His idea was to attract better workers for building his rail cars, but it was still a town that he owned and controlled. In the 1890s, as deflation swept the nation, Pullman cut the wages of his workers, while maintaining the rents he charged in his town. During this time, he refused to cut the dividends his company paid or reduce his own and his top management’s salaries. This lead to unrest and eventually a major strike that impacted the entire nation.
Opposite Pullman was Eugene V. Debs, who was attempting to change the nature of unions from a craft guild that served particular skills (such as firemen and engineers) to a union that represented all railroad workers. As the strike at the Pullman plant grew, other railroads workers became involved, leading to disruption throughout the system. While employees refused to handle Pullman cars, the battle became greater as other traffic was delayed or stopped. Cities like Chicago were beginning to starve.
Kelly demonstrates the length the railroads went to in order to break the strike. One tool they had was the mail service. Debs and other strikers insisted that nothing was to be done to disturb the mail, which was a federal offense. Mail cars on passenger trains were generally at the front of the train, while the Pullman cars, which had to be available to be transferred from one line to the other, were at the back of trains. This allowed railroad workers, who were refusing to handle Pullman cars, to easily push them off onto sidings while allowing the railroad to continue operating. Knowing this, train officials starts making up the train, putting the mail cars behind the Pullmans, forcing the union’s hand. Eventually, the federal government was able to use the excuse of mail disruption to call in the army to break the strike. Soldiers who had been used to keep the peace in the West (or fighting the “Indian Wars”) were deployed to cities like Chicago and Sacramento.
Kelly tells the story of the strike and the era in an interesting way that keeps the reader engaged.
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
1 Corinthians 15:29-34
May 12, 2019
I have been reading Chimamanda Adichie’s novel, Purple Hibiscus. Set in Nigeria during a politically unstable time, it’s the story of Kambili, a fifteen year old girl trying to make sense of this world. Her father is rich, generous, and a devout Catholic. But at home he’s abusive and a tyrant. He makes his children live by a strict schedule and demands perfection. The family have their prayer time, but even that is strict and void of joy.
When Kambili and her brother are sent to their aunt’s home one summer, they experience a different kind of faith. As with the dad, her aunty leads the family in prayer. Kambili is shocked at the difference. Like her father, she prays for those who don’t believe. But her father prays only that they be saved for the torment of hell, while her aunt prays that they be blessed. And she ends her prayer asking that they all experience peace and much laughter.[1] This shocks Kambili, for laughter was something she never considered of asking for in a prayer. While her aunty isn’t her mother, in a way her “motherly touch” opens up a new way of understanding faith.
I hope you have had such mothers in your life, whether they were your birth mother or another woman like an “aunty”, who helps you experience the hope of our faith. My mother grew up poor and it made her sensitive to the needs and the feelings of others. She expected her children to always be kind to others. It seems, sometimes, that we learn about the gentleness of our faith from women. We should cherish such teachings for our faith is not grounded in judgment and fear, but in life, abundant life, everlasting life. This is why the resurrection, as we going to see today, is so important to our faith.
In my sermon today, I am going to continue looking at the 15th Chapter of Paul’s first letter to the church in Corinth, the resurrection chapter. Read 1 Corinthians 15:29-34.
###
There are those who see the resurrection as a “pie-in-the-sky” doctrine that allows us to endure life on earth, kind of like Karl Marx’s critique of religion being the opium of the masses. But for the Apostle Paul, this is not the case. The resurrection makes a difference in his life in the present. It’s why he can be so fierce and bold to act.
Today we are looking at the center of Paul’s argument for the resurrection. This is a rather problematic passage, especially the first verse which implies there are those who are being baptized for those who have already died. So let’s start out by digging into the text here. This is the only place there is any mention of baptizing the dead in the New Testament, which creates a problem. Should we be doing this, we might wonder? I don’t think so. The only groups who have baptized for the dead have always been considered heretical sects.[2] So what does this mean? No one really knows. As Kenneth Bailey points out in his commentary on First Corinthians, there are at least forty different interpretations of what this passage might mean.[3] But since it is the only place it occurs, we can’t be too sure.
But here’s a possibility. Perhaps Paul refers to a conversion of someone after the death of a believer. For example, someone in the faith dies: perhaps a spouse or a parent. The non-believing spouse or child then decides to be baptized and to become a believer in part in the hope to be reunited with their loved one after the resurrection. To get to the point Paul is making, if there is no resurrection, such an action would be foolish.[4]
The only religious group I know of today who baptize for the dead are the Mormons. But their cosmology, their worldview, doesn’t conform to the Christian tradition—be it Protestant, Catholic or Orthodox. Essentially, they believe that salvation comes through their particular organization, which is why they think even the dead need to be baptized into their church. But we don’t believe that. For us, baptism is not a requirement for salvation; it’s a sign of our salvation which is grounded, not in the church, but in Jesus Christ. We focus on him: on his death and resurrection. Paul is driving this point home in this section of First Corinthians.
From how this verse reads, Paul never says if he agrees or disagrees with whether or not the dead should be baptized.[5] Instead, he is using such a practice to bolster his argument that if there is no resurrection, the rest of the faith doesn’t matter. If God doesn’t have the power to bring Jesus from the tomb to life, God won’t have the power to bring us to life and, as he said earlier in the chapter, our faith is in vain.[6] Again, for Paul, the resurrection is not a “pie-in-the-sky” doctrine, but one that has implications for how he lives his life in the present.
Paul is getting to the heart of the meaning of the resurrection here in the middle of this chapter. What difference does the resurrection make?” Paul essentially asks. His answer: “it makes all the difference in the world.” Because of the resurrection, we can face life with confidence and should live lives worthy of this gift.
Notice how Paul builds his case, reaching a peak at verse 31 with his boast of Jesus Christ, in whose death we’re called to die through baptism so that we might live eternally with him… For Paul, everything is focused on the Lord. On both sides of this proclamation, Paul notes the danger the Corinthians and he face daily for their belief in Jesus Christ. And then on the outside of that, Paul is almost dripping in sarcasm as he begins and ends with a statement that includes “if the dead are not raised?” If there is no resurrection, why bother to do all this stuff? If there is no resurrection, why don’t we throw a party, eat and drink, for tomorrow we may die. But Paul doesn’t believe this as he shows in this central statement, his profession of faith in Jesus Christ. Therefore, he concludes with additional suggestions about how we’re to live our lives.
In verse 32 Paul suggests that if it weren’t for the resurrection, he’d not be fighting with wild animals in Ephesus. As we look back on this from our perspective, we recall Roman circuses and it is easy to imagine Paul fighting lions like other Christians who were taken into the coliseum in Rome. However, the practice of feeding Christians to wild animals in the coliseum didn’t start until a century later.[7] So what might Paul be referring to here?
Although Paul spent more time in Ephesus that anywhere else in his missionary journeys and wrote this letter from there, Ephesus was a difficult place to be a Christian missionary.[8] We see this in Acts, where the silversmiths in Ephesus have a problem with Paul’s preaching.[9] Paul’s message is bad for business, for they make their living selling statues of gods and goddesses. If such gods don’t exist, why would anyone buy such a statue? This led to some difficulty for Paul and his ministry in Ephesus, a conflict that was like fighting wild animals for he may well have been fearful for his life. It wouldn’t have taken much for one of the merchants or craftsmen whose business was suffering to arrange for Paul’s body to be found floating dead in the harbor.
Paul’s point is that because of the resurrection, he doesn’t have to worry about his own life. In his letter to the Romans, Paul shows this confidence when he writes: “If we live, we live to the Lord, and if we die, we die to the Lord, so then whether we live or whether we die, we are the Lord’s.”[10]
Again, for Paul, everything is focused on Jesus Christ. And it should be like that for us, too. Faith in the resurrection allows us to be committed disciples, without the fear of death.
After showing the importance of the resurrection in our lives, Paul concludes this section with two short proverbs. In the first, “Do not be deceived: ‘Bad company ruins good morals,’” Paul is possibly quoting the 3rd Century BC Greek playwright Menander. Just before this quote, Paul flippantly quotes from Isaiah: “Let us eat and drink, for tomorrow we die.” Paul, throughout this letter, draws upon multiple texts so that there is something familiar to both the Greeks and the Jews in Corinth who are reading his letter.[11] Paul wants to heal the divisions in Corinth and this is just another attempt at doing that—quoting two different sources, so that each group would have something familiar to help their understanding. Paul’s use of sources supports Christian preaching that draws on sources outside the Biblical canon for illustrations. Truth, wherever found, can be used to support the ultimate Truth.
Paul’s ending to this section of his letter reminds us there needs to be an ethical response on our behalf because of the resurrection. Because we have been promised this incredible gift, we should live righteously, avoiding evil and striving to do what is honorable.
Throughout this letter, Paul has pointed to the corruption and sin in the Corinthian Church, so his tag-on here comes as no surprise: “I say this to your shame,” Paul notes for the second time in this letter.[12] Paul expects the Corinthians to change. They are to unite and get over their divisions.[13] They are no longer to put up with outrageous sin.[14] They are not to make a mockery of the Lord’s Supper and they are to worship in an orderly manner.[15] If they accept and believe in the resurrection, they will change and live in a way that honors what God has done for them in Jesus Christ.
Does the resurrection make a difference in your life? It should make all the difference in the world; it should give us the boldness to live for Jesus. But does it? Reflect on the resurrection this week and ask yourself, what difference it makes? Hopefully, you will discover, like Paul, the importance of a core document of the faith that we’ll profess in a few minutes when we say the Apostles’ Creed. When you say the Creed this morning, focus on those last clauses: “I believe…. in the resurrection of the body and the life everlasting.” Amen.
©2019
[1] Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, Purple Hibiscus (New York: Random House, 2003), 127.
[2] William F. Orr and James Arthur Walther, First Corinthians: The Anchor Bible (Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1976), 335.
[3] Kenneth E. Bailey, Paul Through Mediterranean Eyes: Cultural Studies in 1 Corinthians (Downers Grove, IL: Intervarsity Press, 2011), 449.
[4] Bailey, 450, agrees with G. G. Findlay (1900) and Joachim Jeremias (1960), who both independently of each other argued for this interpretation of the verse.
[5] Hans Conzelmann, 1st Corinthians: Hermeneia (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1975), 275.
[6] 1 Corinthians 15:14.
[7]Orr and Walther, 338.
[8] See Bailey, 452.
[9] See Acts 19:23-41
[10] Romans 14:8
[11] Bailey, 453. See Isaiah 22:13.
[12] 1 Corinthians 6:5, 15:34.
[13] Focus of 1 Corinthians 1-4:16.
[14] See 1 Corinthians 5.
[15] See 1 Corinthians 11-14.
Bridge in New Mexico
This was originally posted in my other blog and written in January 2012, shortly after making this trip.
The air is crisp and Orion has dropped into the western sky as we make our way into the Flagstaff train station. The waiting room is nearly filled with passengers and baggage awaiting the eastbound arrival of the Southwest Chief. It’s 5:15 AM and we’re fifteen minutes before the train is supposed to arrive. I’ve parked the rental car in the city lot across the tracks, place the keys in the drop box and take a seat on the old wood benches. The train is running fifteen minutes late. Outside one of Warren Buffet’s Burlington Northern Santa Fe trains of containers race through town, on its way to Los Angeles and then to a ship to where ever. A few minutes later another train approaches from the west, heading east, with containers that probably originated somewhere in Asia, most-likely China. At 5:41, the time the train was to have departed Flagstaff, but we learn it’ll be another twenty minutes before it arrives. At six, everyone begins collecting their luggage. The station agent instructs those in coaches to head to the right and those with sleeper car accommodations to go left. We make our way to the 430 car where an attendant takes our tickets, helps us aboard and directs us to our assigned berths. . “The diner opens in 20 minutes,” we’re informed. At 6:10, the engineer blows his horn, signaling that it’s time to go. A few seconds later, the train begins to move into the darkness of the Southwest. In my compartment, I stare out into the dark sky as we leave the city. I nod off for a few seconds, but it’s hard to get back to sleep, so mostly I look out the window. To the southeast the sky is just a bit lighter and fewer of the stars can be seen. Slowly a thin red line is seen on the horizon and it gradually grows into a band of red. I can begin to make out the shape of what few trees grow in this country, the utility poles and lines of fence posts. As it becomes lighter, I notice I can tell the difference between the types of brush.
Service Stop in Albuquerque
A little before 7 AM, I head to the dining car for breakfast. The train pulls into Winslow, stopping only for a minute to let off and pick up passengers. I’ve been through this town several times and have yet to see “a girl in a flatbed Ford.” The waitress, a young Hispanic woman with a bright smile, brings coffee and informs us of the day’s special. I decide to have the omelet made with three eggs, spinach, onions and tomatoes with a side of grits and cinnamon raisin toast. It’s a filling breakfast and the chef liberally sprinkled oregano on the omelet, giving it a nice spicy taste. While at breakfast, the sun breaks the horizon and its rays immediately light up the desert floor. Along the interstate, silver trailers pulled by semis reflect the light. Fence posts and utility poles cast long shadows. As the sun rises, the shadows are reeled in. We pass numerous freight trains, mostly hauling containers, but there’s one with piggy back trailers, and unit train of coal cars, another with closed hoppers hauling grain and another of tankers, hauling chemicals.
Before I realize it, the train has cut through the Petrified Forest National Park and is running along the Pesrco River as it makes its way to the New Mexico border. Although Interstate 40 parallels this section of track, it was originally Route 66, the highway made famous by Steinbeck in his Depression era novel, The Grapes of Wrath. When I was in school in Pittsburgh, I met a retired dentist who told me about his family’s trip out west in 1923. The man was in his 80s at the time I knew him, but was only about ten when his dad, who was a physician, decided to take off the entire summer. He packed up the family in a large car he described as looking like something off the Beverly Hillbillies set. As this was before road trips were popular and motels and service stations dotted the landscape; the family had to provide for themselves. They mostly camped at night and cooked their own food (carrying tents and a stove). He said that from the time they left Kansas City until they arrived in Los Angeles, the only paved roads were in towns. They had to serve as their own mechanics, too, often fixing half-dozen or so flats a day. As they boiled under the hot sun of the Southwest, they complained to their dad as to why they were driving while others were zooming past their car, riding comfortably in the sleek trains along the Atkinson, Topeka and Santa Fe Route.
The train I’m on was the descendant of the Santa Fe Super Chief, which was introduced in the 1930s. At its time, the Super Chief was luxury on rail, featuring all Pullman sleeper cars powered by diesel engines. This was the train of Hollywood Stars and would later give the framework for the movie “Silver Streak,” which although it used a different name, followed the Santa Fe’s route between LA and Chicago and featured the comic antics of the young Richard Pryor and Gene Wilder.
We reach Gallup at 9 AM. From the sounds of the announcement, it sounds like the train crew is having problems with folks getting off the train to smoke and holding up operations. Gallup is just a quick stop to drop off and pick up passengers, but many have jumped onto the platform where they can legally smoke. The conductor wants to make up time and he tells people to only get off the train at scheduled stops. Since Amtrak went non-smoking twenty-some years ago, they have encouraged people who need to puff to take advantage of longer stops where they service the train. The next such stop is Albuquerque.
After Gallup, we climb. The wheels of the train squeak in the curves as they scrape against the side of the rails. To our north is a mesa that rises several hundred feet, the red Navajo sandstone is rich in the morning sun. To our south are lava fields, with the broken black rock only rising maybe fifty feet. Occasionally, in valley of sage is an ancient cottonwood, its huge trunk sprouting hundreds of scrawny limbs that twist every-which-way. This is Native American country. There are traditional southwest adobe housings along with many trailer and manufactured homes. Also, along what was once Route 66, are the ruins of motels and restaurants and trinket shops. For a hundred miles or so out of Gallup, the tracks parallel Interstate 40, alternating between being just north or south of the freeway. About fifty miles out of Albuquerque, the tracks drop to the southeast, before heading north along the upper waters of the Rio Grande. For the next three hundred miles, the tracks head north, paralleling Interstate 25.
During the morning, my daughter works with her violin and a keyboard on her ipad to figure out the notes to a favorite song. I spend my time writing in my journal, looking out the window and reading Janisse Ray’s book, Drifting into Darien: A Personal and Natural History of the Altamaha River. No one is in a hurry.
Northern New Mexico (notice reflection of Dining Car windows)
Our reservation for lunch in the dining car is at 12:30 PM. The nice thing about a sleeper is that all meals are included, which means I eat more than I should. I have a veggie burger, made out of black beans. It’s pretty good. Included are chips, ice tea and desert. I have a cup of raspberry sorbet.
We arrive in Albuquerque on-time, having made up nearly thirty minutes. Albuquerque is a long stop, nearly forty minutes, as the conductors and engineers change (the car attendants and dining car attendants remain the same the entire trip) and the train’s locomotives are fueled while the water tanks in the passenger cars are filled. During the stop here, I get out and walk up and down the tracks. On the edge of the tracks are Native American vendors selling jewelry and woven rugs and hats. We leave Albuquerque at 12:10, right on time. As we leave the city, the tracks take us through back yards that all seem to contain a wood-fired adobe beehive oven (something I’d always wanted). The houses all have satellite dishes. Some are traditional southwest looking homes, but many are not.
The Lamy station is the transfer point for those whose destination is Santa Fe. Ironically, although the famous town became the name of a railroad, the main line never made it to Santa Fe. The mountains were too steep to put the tracks into the town, so the town of Lamy was built. A short-line still branch off the mainline here, but those passengers desiring to get to Santa Fe, there is a bus. The train snakes through steep cuts in the pale orange sandstone as we leave Lamy. At times, the walls are so close to the tracks that if a window was open, one could reach out and touch the rock. Our progress is slow as the grade is steep as we move into the Sangre de Cristo Mountains, climbing up the Glorieta Mesa. According to the timetable, it’ll take us nearly two hours to cover the 65 miles between Lamy and Las Vegas. The snow is also deeper, pinion and gamble oaks are now mixed in with the juniper. The late summer blooms on the rabbit brush is now brown.
Once we reach the Glorieta sidings, the track isn’t quite as steep and the train picks up speed. The westbound Southwest Chief passes us; it’ll be in LA tomorrow morning. I head to the lounge/observation car where I spend the afternoon, looking at the scenery (here I can see both sides of the tracks) while writing and talking to fellow passengers. We parallel Interstate 25; when the tracks are level we make good time and when they are steep, we slow down. Here, on top of the mesa, there are fewer cuts into the rocks and as the train snakes, we can see the engines up front and the coach cars on the back end.
Las Vegas, New Mexico isn’t as glitzy as its named counterpart in Nevada. But it’s an older town along the Santa Fe Trail. Next to the typical mission style train station Castendada, an old hotel and “Harvey House.” In the days before dining cars, the trains would stop here and the folks at the “Harvey House” were assigned the task of feeding the entire train as quickly as possible in order that they could get back on the road. Leaving Las Vegas at 3:15, the tracks carry us along high plateau, mostly grasslands with the occasional windmill and ranch house. The sun is now dropping in the southwestern sky as the magic hour approaches. In the winter, the sun seems to hang on a little longer and everything is bathed in soft light. The brown grass turns golden. Yesterday, at this time, we were driving across Southern Utah and Northern Arizona, through the polygamous towns of Hillsdale and Colorado City as we were heading to Flagstaff to catch the train. Canaan Mountain, in its various bands of colored sandstone, was beautiful in the low light. Today’s landscape isn’t quite as dramatic but it’s still beautiful as the sun casts warm hues across the plateau. The sun finally gives up and drops behind the mountains a few minutes before we arrive in Raton.
Northern New Mexico
Raton is a longer stop and I get off the train and walk up and down the platform. It’s colder, now that the sun has set and we’re in higher elevation. In the summer, thousands of Boy Scouts get off here in order to visit the Philmont Scout Ranch, for a week or two of hiking in the Desert Mountains of the Southwest. I’m told that having a large scout group on the train can be a trying experience for the rest of the travelers, but we don’t have to worry about it as its winter. I’ve taken this route once before, during the summer of 1993, but since I had a sleeper, I was spared the experience as the scouts onboard were all in coach. When we leave Raton, we’re on some of the steepest track in the country. We’re five cars behind the locomotives, yet can hear them groan as they work hard to pull us up the grade. At times it seems we’re going no faster than I can walk. The track is so steep that a marble dropped on the floor would race to the back of the car. It takes nearly an hour to go from Raton, New Mexico to Trinidad, Colorado, a distance of only 24 miles. At the summit, the tracks are at 7588 feet, the highest point along the Santa Fe line. We rush through the Raton Tunnel and then begin our descent. But even the downhill is steep and curvy and the engineer maintains a slow descent. Its pitch dark by the time we reach Trinidad.
Our dinner reservations are at 6 PM and since we don’t have enough for a full table, we are seated with a solo traveler who introduces himself as “Dave, a hillbilly from West Virginia.” He’s quite a talker, telling about working in the coal mines as a kid and then leaving the state and doing various jobs around the country including working behind the scenes in the movies. He’d gotten on in Santa Fe and is heading back to his home country where he’s planning on retiring. For dinner, I have a chipotle beef tip with apricot sauce, roasted vegetables, rice and a salad. I’m not a big beef person, unless the meat has been spiced up some. This was delicious! After dinner, the train stopped in La Junita, Colorado. We’re fifteen minutes early. Since the engineers and conductors change here; we have nearly a 30 minute break. But it’s cold, 14 degrees, so after walking the length of the train a few times, I seek the shelter of the car, where our attendant is busy putting down the beds. I’d talked to him earlier today. He’s been an attendant for Amtrak for 35 years. He started working with them during the summer, when he was a grad student working on a photojournalism degree. He stayed with it, taking on average three six-day trips a month (a trip from LA to Chicago with a layover day and then back to LA is considered a 6 day trip).
Through this section, I have a good data signal and spend the next hour updating my facebook page and reading and commenting on blogs. We stop briefly in Lamar, to let off and receive passengers. As we leave, I put away my laptop and pull the covers over me. Outside, it’s cold and snowy. The stars are bright and Orion and his dog seem to be just outside my window. We pass a number of grain elevators and enter the Central Time Zone. It’s now 10:30 PM and I call it a night.
Old Burlington Route Steamer Galesburg, Illinois
I sleep well, waking up only once, at 5:15 AM. We’re at Topeka, then. The station is on the other side of the train, and from my window I look out at a rather sizable rail yard. Freight trains are being assembled. The lights are so much that I can barely see the stars, but I pick out what I think are the two bright stars that make up the arrow in the archer’s bow, but then realize I shouldn’t be seeing that constellation this time of the year and that it must be Cygnus the Swan. As we begin to move out, I fall back asleep. At 7 AM, the announcer comes on and says we’re in Kansas City, a fifteen minute stop. I pull on a gym suit and walk outside for fresh air. When the engine whistles and the conductor calls “all aboard,” I jump back onboard and go to the diner for breakfast. This morning I take it easy, enjoying a bowl of steel cut oatmeal along with some fruit and toast and, of course, coffee. We’re seated with a woman from Royal Oak, Michigan, who has been visiting family in Kansas. She’ll be on the same train we’ll take out of Chicago, although she’ll have two and a half more hours of travel, arriving at her station at midnight (if the train is on time). As we eat, we cross the Missouri River. A unit train of grain hoppers passes us, heading west. There is no snow here in the Midwest, just brown fields and bare trees. The tracks cut through the northwest corner of Missouri and the southeast corner of Iowa, as we race along through farmland and wooded areas and the occasional town. Broom sledge, brown and dry, line the tracks thought much of this section. We stop in La Plata, Missouri. This is a small station and we have to make two stops, one to let off the sleeping car passengers and again to let off those riding in the coaches on the back end of the train. Over half of the passengers appear to be Amish in their traditional dress.
As we approach Fort Madison, Iowa, along the Mississippi River, we pass the factory where they make the large electrical windmills. Hundreds of blades are stored around the buildings and some of them are on secured to flat rail cars, awaiting shipment. Fort Madison is a “smoke stop” and I get off to get some fresh air (there seems to be only one smoker in our car and he walks far away from the train to light up). I walk around a bit, but we are only stopped for a few minutes before the engineer blows the whistle and the “all aboard” call is made. It’s okay because they have already called the 11:45 AM dining reservations (it’s only 11:15). We’re about 10 minutes behind schedule, but all bets are on that we’ll make that back up as we race into Chicago. In the dining car, as we pull out of the station, the tracks parallel the Mississippi River. A paddle-wheeled riverboat is tied up at the docks and I pose to get a shot when we go by, but just before we get there a pair of orange, black and yellow Burlington Northern Santa Fe locomotives on the next track blocks my view. It’s a unit of cars filled with automobiles. Soon, the tracks make a right hand bend and we’re on the trestle over the Mississippi and into Illinois, the final state of our journey. This is farm country. The dirt is black and the fields of corn and soybeans are fallow in the winter. Along the edges of the fields are farm houses and barns.
For lunch, I have the chef’s special. I am not normally a big macaroni and cheese fan, but his mac and cheese includes cauliflower, corn, garlic and chipotle sauce. It was good and has a spicy bite to it. The meal is especially filling since it includes a salad and a dinner roll. When we leave, we say goodbye to the dining staff as they’ve treated us well this trip.
Our first stop in Illinois is Galesburg, a railroad town. Tracks merge here before heading into Chicago. At the station, many of the Amish get off the train along with a few other passengers. Next to the station is the Galesburg Rail Museum. Someday I need to make a stop here. On display is a Burlington Route steamer with a couple of Pullman cars. There have been a number of old steam locomotives on display in the various towns we’ve traveled through. In this part, they’re always the over-sized Burlington Route or CB&Q (Chicago, Burlington and Quincy) steamers designed for fast transportation across the plains. On the other side of Kansas City, they’re Atkinson, Topeka & Santa Fe locomotives, most of which are smaller and better on the curves. Riding through this country of farms and small cities, we see the backyard of America, filled with clothes lines and swing sets. Many of the streets that run out from the tracks have wooden two-storied box-shaped homes and are lined with trees. But it doesn’t quite look right as there is no snow on the ground, which is usual for January.
We pull into Chicago’s Union Station on time, at 3 PM. We’ve covered 1699 miles in 33 hours, having traveled through deserts and mountain, through reservations and many small towns and a few larger cities, crossed the great rivers and the rich farmland of America’s heartland!
With a three hour layover, we head to the Great Room. It’s still decorated for Christmas. We camp out on the wooden bench seats. As I finish reading Ray’s book, Drifting into Darien, a police officer stops to ask what I’m reading. I try to explain the book and he asks if it’s like the book they made into a movie with Brad Pitts about two boys and their father a Lutheran minister in Montana. “You mean, A River Runs Through It?” I ask. “That’s it,” he says. I correct him saying that the dad wasn’t Lutheran but Presbyterian and explain the differences between the books. Although I am enjoying Ray’s writing, it’s nothing like MacLean’s masterpiece. I tell him a bit about Ray and her writing about nature in the South. He acknowledges the number of great southern writers and notes the rising number of southern crime fiction authors. I admit I haven’t read much in that genre unless Carl Haaisen’s writing could be classified in the genre. I’m surprised that he knows Haaisen, and he asks if I’ve read Thomas Cook. I haven’t and he tells me about a crime fiction book Cook wrote that’s sent in Birmingham, during the days of Bull O’Conner. As we talk, he seems to know a lot about Cook and the setting and I ask if he knows Cook and he admits that he’s talked to him a number of times, saying that he plays in the crime fiction genre. When I ask if he’s published anything, he acknowledges that he’s shopping a novel, but has a non-fiction book in print titled Just the Facts: True Tales of Cops and Criminals.
At five, an hour before departure, we head into the crowded waiting room. I talk a bit with an Amish man who’s just travelled here from central Pennsylvania to see a couple families off to Mexico. At 5:30, the make the first call for the Wolverine, the train that’ll take us to Kalamazoo and home. We board, climbing up iced-over stairs. The train is crowded. We start slowly, going through the maze of tracks south of Chicago, before circling around the south shore of Lake Michigan. It’s a short trip, just two and a half hours (plus another hour due to the change of time zones). At Niles, I call my friends where I’d left my truck. They tell me they’ll be there at the station. It’ll be nice to be home as I hear it’s been snowing. At 9:30, right on time, the train stops in Kalamazoo and we carefully make our way down the icy steps. After a thirty minute drive, our trip will be over.
Looking back at this post, I am now surprised to find I am living 40 miles north of Darien, the book I was reading about on this section of the journey!
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
1 Corinthians 15:12-28
April 28, 2019
In a devotion for last Sunday, Easter Day, Richard Rohr, reminded his readers that “Easter isn’t celebrating a one-time miracle as if it only happened in the body of Jesus and we’re all here to cheer for Jesus.” Sadly, he concludes, that’s what a lot of people think Easter is about. Rohr places the seeds for Easter in Christmas, with the incarnation, which I will discuss in my sermon this morning.[1] If God can become flesh (in the incarnation), the resurrection seems to follow naturally.
We’re continuing to think about the resurrection today. I want you to ask yourselves this question: “What difference does the resurrection make for your life?” We started working through the 15th Chapter of First Corinthians last Sunday on Easter. As I stated last week, in this chapter, Paul provides the most detailed treatment of the resurrection found in scripture. It’s also one of the longer chapters in scripture. This morning, I will begin reading in verse 12. Here, Paul begins by pointing to objections being made about the resurrection. For Paul, the foundation of our hope in Jesus Christ is found in the resurrection to life everlasting. Yes, we will all die; we will cease to exist. But the grave is not the end! Later on in this chapter, Paul can ask: “O death, where is your victory? O death, where is your sting?”[2] He can be that bold because he believes, as we proclaim in the Apostles’ Creed, “in the resurrection of the body and in the life everlasting.” Read 1 Corinthians 15:12-28.
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People turn to the church when there is a death because we can offer hope for something beyond our frail mortal bodies. In all the work I did on the history of Western Mining Camps, one of the surprising things I learned was how at the time of death, even people who religiously avoided the shadow of the steeple, would be brought back for a funeral. The friends of Julia Bulette, Virginia City’s most famous prostitute, sought out the Presbyterian minister for her funeral. Mark Twain in Roughing It has a wonderful tale about Buck Fanshaw’s funeral. Fanshaw, a leader of the “bottom-stratum of society” and based on a real-life character who had a relationship with Bulette, died. The local roughs elected Scotty Briggs to “fetch a parson” to “waltz Fanshaw into handsome” (their word for heaven). The dialogue between the minister and Scotty is classic Twain.[3] Although funny, it’s a reminder that at the time of death, we want the comfort only the church can offer: the hope in life everlasting in Jesus Christ.
But let me suggest that such comfort isn’t just for those who are dying. It’s also important for how we live our lives. Having faith in the resurrection allows us to be bold. As we are Kirkin’ the Tartans today, we have to look no further than to John Knox, the great reformer of Scotland. Knox was convert to the Protestant faith through the preaching of George Wishart. Knox first heard Wishart in Leith on December 13th, 1545. Knox had already began moving toward the Protestant movement with his study of Scripture, but Wishart’s preaching accelerated the process. Knox immediately became Wishart’s disciple and spent the next five weeks with him. Knox stuck by Wishart, even though he knew that he was marked man. In early 1546, less than two months after the two met, Wishart was arrested and burned at the stake in St. Andrews.[4] Knox avoided such a barbecue, but ended up doing hard time as a prisoner, manning oars on a galley ship. Why would someone be so willing to risk their own life unless they really believe it’s worth it?
At death and in times of peril, the church is a symbol of our faith and the hope we have for something we can never fully comprehend in this life, the resurrection.
Let’s look at our text. In verses 12 through 19, Paul plays the devil’s advocate. If there is no resurrection, it’s all a big joke. If there is no resurrection, then we are people to be pitied. Of course, Paul doesn’t believe that.
In verse 20, Paul shifts his argument with a powerful “BUT.” This change of direction wipes out the objections he’d just raised. “But Christ has been raised,” Paul proclaims; this truth makes all the difference in the world!
Paul begins by contrasting two men who represent more than themselves. Adam is not just our first-umpteenth great-granddaddy; he stands as the primal man, the representative of us all.[5] The death that comes through sin is something we all share. Interestingly here, Paul does not cite Eve or blame her for the first sin, the eating of the forbidden fruit. In this way, Paul is more enlightened than he is often given credit. Within the rabbinical tradition at the time, as can be seen in the Apocryphal literature, Ben Sirach lays the blame for sin and death on the first woman. After all, Eve was the first to nibble on that sinful fruit.[6] But Paul doesn’t go there. Instead, by using Adam as an archetype for all humanity, he shows that we all share in the blame for sin and in sin’s consequence: death.
However, there is good news. Although death came through a human being, so too has the resurrection come through a human being. Paul lifts the Christmas doctrine of the incarnation. In Jesus Christ, God became flesh! Christ is the first-fruit of the resurrection, a term that probably meant more to Paul’s audience than to us today. For you see, the Jews were to bring the first of the harvest, their first-fruits, to God as an offering of thanksgiving. We tend to give God what is left, not our first-fruit, which probably says a lot more about our spiritual state that we’d honestly like to admit. However, this isn’t about our giving, it’s about God’s gift, for God the Father gave us his first-fruit, in that of his Son.
All this is a part of God’s plan in history, Paul notes. It’s all a part of the great plan to destroy all authorities and powers that defy or challenge God. At the end, there will be nothing to draw our attention from the Almighty. All idols will be destroyed, all that which we fear will be removed, the last of which is death itself. With the removal of that great enemy which has haunted the human race since the beginning, we can worship God without fear or distraction.
Kenneth Bailey, in his commentary on First Corinthians, goes into detail about the meaning of Jesus placing all his enemies (the last one being death), under his feet. Bailey suggests that verses 24-27 could be removed and the reader wouldn’t notice. You can try this yourself, at home, just leave the verses out and see how it reads. So why did Paul insert this little segue? It’s to make a political point: Jesus is Lord! If Jesus is Lord, that means Caesar isn’t Lord. He cites examples from the ancient world in which the ruler’s footstool often had engravings representing the kingdom’s enemies and when the ruler placed his foot upon the stool, he was making a statement about his power. When Christ has finished, there will be no possibilities of his enemies, including death, making a comeback![7]
In the winter of 2000, I had the opportunity to spend a few weeks in Korea: preaching, sightseeing and mountain climbing. I visited the imperial city in Seoul, where the emperor once ruled, his throne built on a hill that allowed him to overlook the city. In 1910, Japan invaded Korea. The Japanese decided it was too dangerous to destroy the ancient throne, so instead they built a modern government building to block the view from the city. I learned there had been a great controversy over what to do with this building that was architecturally significant. Many wanted to tear it down, which is what happened, but others wanted to relocate it. One of the more creative ideas, which caused a minor international incident with the Japanese, was to dig a hole and sink the building and then glass over the top. That way, the building would not be destroyed, but the Korean people could have the satisfaction of “walking over” or stomping on the visible representation of 40 years of Japanese occupation.
The idea of our enemies being under our feet is still strong in our imaginations, as we can see from Korea. Yet, we need to remember that in the eternal realm, we’re not conquerors, Christ is! We’re not the victors; we share in Christ’s victory. The enemies are not under our feet, but his. And they’re not our enemies, they’re his enemies. We might even be surprised to find some of our enemies on Jesus’ side. For those of us who have Scottish blood in our veins, we may even be shocked to find some English in heaven. After all, all things are possible with God. But the important thing isn’t who’s in and out, it’s whether or not we are on Jesus’ side. Consider this, if we are out, we could end up being a footstool.
Friends, we’re mortal and we’re going to die. We know that, even if we sometimes act as if we don’t. As for when or how we’ll die, we don’t know. But we live with hope. We’re told that Jesus is the first-fruit of the resurrection. The implication here is that Jesus will not be the only one raised. Jesus’ resurrection is not the exception to the rule. Jesus’ resurrection is the start of something new: all who trust and accept him will live with him eternally.[8]
And because we put our faith in Christ and through him have faith in the resurrection, we can live this life without fear. We can be like John Knox, following George Wishart to the stake. We can be bold on behalf of our Savior. Friends, live fiercely, in the knowledge that in life and in death, we belong to Jesus Christ.[9] Amen.
©2019
[1] https://cac.org/the-death-of-death-2019-04-21/
[2] 1 Corinthians 15;55.
[3] Mark Twain, Roughing It (1872), Chapter 47. See also Charles Jeffrey Garrison, “Of Ministers, Funerals, and Humor: Mark Twain of the Comstock,” Nevada Historical Society Quarterly 38, #3 (Fall 1995).
[4] Jane Dawson, John Knox (New Haven: Yale, 2015), 28-32.
[5] Hans Conzelmann, First Corinthians: Hermeneia—A Critical and Historical Commentary on the Bible (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1975), 268.
[6] Kenneth E. Bailey, Paul Through Mediterranean Eyes: Cultural Studies in 1 Corinthians (Downers Grove, IL: IVP Press, 2011), 443. See Sirach 25:24
[7] Bailey, 447.
[8] William F. Orr and James Arthur Walther, I Corinthians: The Anchor Bible (Garden City, NJ: Doubleday, 1976), 330.
[9] Taken from the opening question of the Heidelberg Catechism.
Notes on the Kirkin’ o’ the Tartans
Bruce Ezell, ©2003
With my daughter Caroline, both of us showing off our McKenzie heritage
These questions and answers on the Kirkin come from Elder Bruce Ezell, an elder at Laurinburg Presbyterian Church (North Carolina). It was written as a primer for their Kirkin’ so that everyone (Scots and non-Scots alike) could understand the symbolism behind the service. I have slightly modified this list to fit our situation on Skidaway Island. This program is republished thanks to the permission from Laurinburg Presbyterian Church. Photos are mine and have been taken at past Kirkin’ services at Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church. -Jeff Garrison
Mark Hornsby, whose hard work lines up all the tartan bearers!
Is the Kirkin’ o’ the Tartan, an auld Scottish Rite? Many people are under assumption that the “Kirkin’ o’ the Tartan” is an ancient Scottish Church Ceremony. Actually, nothing could be further from the truth. While based on Scottish legend and folklore, this ceremony is distinctly American. It traces its roots to the life and ministry of The Reverend Dr. Peter Marshall, a Scottish émigré. Dr. Marshal was a prominent minister in the Presbyterian Church, who served as the Chaplain to the United States Senate at the advent of World War II. In April 1941, while serving as the Pastor of the New York Avenue Presbyterian Church, Dr. Marshall titled one of his sermons “Kirkin’ o’ the Tartan.” This name soon became attached to church services that celebrate with pride their Scottish heritage. While more commonly celebrated by Presbyterian and Episcopal Churches, today this celebration is utilized by a variety of Christian denominations for Scottish heritage events.
What was the origin of the Tartan? The exact origin of the Scots’ love of the tartan is shrouded in the mists of ancient times. According to one common and widely held legend, St. Margaret introduced the use of the Tartan for clan identification purposes. This was a way of achieving unity (a rare commodity in Scottish History) within diversity. The use of the tartan in a generic sense was for all Scots. The particular designs for clan and familial identity did not begin, however, until the nineteenth century. Margaret was a gentlewoman of noble birth, who planned a religious vocation. She was persuaded, however, by Malcolm, King of Scots, to become his queen. Malcolm was a boorish man; he was uncultured and illiterate. Margaret softened his harsh ways, and led him to be a better king. It was said of Margaret that she “admonished the wicked to become good and the good to become better.” She remains a revered figure in Scottish history.
Thom Greenlaw with Laurel McKeith to his right
Why was the tartan banned? The Scots and the English are very different people, with different cultural origins and different traditions. Even today, a Scot may speak, with a twinkle in his eye, of England as “the auld enemy.” During the long course of Scottish history, the Scots and the English were to make war against one another many times. For the Scots, there were times of freedom, beginning with the revolts of William Wallace and Robert the Bruce, and times of subjugation. The last Scottish rebellion began in 1745, and ended in 1746 with the Battle of Culloden Moor, wherein the Scots led by “Bonnie adopted a policy of “cultural genocide.” This was known as the “Act of Proscription” of George II. The wearing of the kilt, the use of the Gaelic language, the ancient “clan system,” and all other elements of Scottish culture and nationalism were banned! These acts were meant to strip the Highland Scots of their cultural attributes, which further distanced them from their English speaking conquerors. While these bans remained in effect, memories of “things distinctly Scottish” were all but lost. Like warm embers from a long-dead fire, these Scottish traditions remained alive only in the memories of ancient grandparents. According to legend, during these trying times the Scottish people would secretly carry a small piece of their clan’s tartan to church on Sundays. Thus when the minister ended the service with the Benediction, that tartan was blessed and God’s favor was bestowed upon the Scottish people. King George III repealed the Act of Proscription in 1782. It was not until the 19th Century and the Reign of Queen Victoria, however that a renaissance of Scottish culture began. The Queen, strongly influenced by the romantic writings of Sir Walter Scott, sought to revive the wearing of the kilt and other Scottish traditions.
Why is the St. Andrew’s Cross Flag a symbol of Scotland? A white “X” shaped cross upon a blue field is known as the St. Andrew’s Cross flag. This standard is a symbol of Scotland. St. Andrew was one of Christ’s disciples. Andrew (known from only eight passages of scripture) is one of the more appealing figures of the twelve apostles. He seems to have possessed a boundless enthusiasm for bringing people to meet Jesus, yet he was content to remain in the background. According to a Christian (probably apocryphal) legend that dates from only the 14th Century, Andrew was executed. He was bound to a “Cross Saltire” (i.e: an “X” shaped cross) and crucified. In the 4th Century, some believe, his relics were transported to Scotland. St. Andrew is considered the patron saint of Scotland. St. Andrew’s Day dinners are commonplace among those who love Scotland, including the tradition of cooking “X” shaped shortbread cookies.
Why is the Rampant Lion Flag used at Scottish celebrations? A flag featuring a red “lion rampant” upon a yellow field is the royal ensign of Scotland, and thus used on state occasions when royalty is present. This royal standard is also flown from government buildings on official occasions. This flag, however, has recently been approved by the Lord Lyon for use at Scottish heritage and athletic events.
Awaiting the congregation after the service
Why is the thistle a symbol of Scotland? Once upon a time, a long long time ago, the Scots were about to be invaded by their “auld and ancient enemies,” the Vikings. Once they landed, all Scots knew the Vikings would be hard to stop. If only their landing sites might be located, however, there was the slim hope that the Viking warriors might be stopped on the landing beaches. Alas, a fog drifted into the area and the Scots gave up all hope of identifying the invasion site. About this time, a barefooted Viking warrior set his foot upon a thistle and gave forth a loud cry. The Scots then rushed to the sound of the footsore warrior, and defeated the Viking force. Thus, it might be said that the thistle, a lowly weed, saved Scotland! As the Welsh revere their leek, the Scots revere the thistle. The thistle was used by the early Kings of Scotland as their personal heraldic crest and is borne by the Arms of the Realm and by a number of ancient Scottish Clans and families as a part of their individual coats of arms. In 1687, James II instituted the Order of the Thistle as a distinctly Scottish order of Knighthood. This order is now the oldest of all surviving British Orders.
Why are there drawings of wild geese on some ancient Christian drawings from Scotland? The wild goose was the Celtic symbol of the Holy Spirit. Perhaps it was the freedom of the wild geese that stirred the island-bound imaginations of the folk who lived in coastal Scotland to think of the Holy Spirit in this manner.
What is “The Kirk?” In Britain and Europe, Presbyterian Churches are usually known as “Reformed Churches.” In Scotland, however, our tradition is the established and sanctioned Church of the Government of Scotland. Thus our Christian tradition is known as “The Church of Scotland” [in the same manner that the “Church of England” is the Anglican (i.e. Episcopal) Church. The Church of Scotland is commonly known simply as “The Kirk.” The British people have always had a marvelous ability to compromise. While in England, Queen Elizabeth is considered as “Head of the Church of England.” While in residence in Scotland, however, Her Majesty is considered a member of the Church of Scotland, and is attended by Chaplains from The Kirk. Jesus Christ is considered the Head of the Church of Scotland.
Blessing of the Tartans, 2018
What is a “Beadle,” and what service did he render the Kirk? During the Middle Ages and through the reformation, Bibles were rare among the common people. The Bible of the Kirk (i.e. the Church) was a treasured possession. The intrinsic value of the Holy Scriptures and the ever present possibility of theft led to the establishment of a special lay office known as the “beadle.” The beadle was usually elected by the Kirk Session, and he served for an indefinite period of time. The chief duty of the beadle was to preserve and protect the Kirk’s Holy Bible. His other duties sometimes included collecting fines, the summoning of accused parties to trial (before Session Court), and the issuing decrees of the Kirk throughout the parish. In some traditional Presbyterian Churches today, the beadle begins the worship service by carrying the Holy Bible ceremoniously into the sanctuary. On such occasions, the people rise in respect for the Holy Book and its Scriptures. The parishioners take their seats after the beadle has opened the Bible and prepared the pulpit for the advent of the minister.
Why does one observe Celtic Crosses in Presbyterian Churches? Throughout Scotland and Ireland, one may observe ancient Celtic Crosses in Churches and Christian Cemeteries. These crosses feature a scalloped cross, which is superimposed upon a circle. Modern Celtic Crosses feature long arms, but the ancient Celtic Crosses had short, stubby arms. The imposition of the cross upon a circle represents “Christ’s dominion over all the world.” Most Celtic Crosses feature elaborate decorations of intertwining vines and flowers rendered in bas-relief along their edges. If one traces these intertwining vines, you discover they are generally interconnected one to another.
Rev. Deanie Strength and Bagpiper Dan Ailes
Why are Psalms sung during the Scottish Heritage Worship Service? The Scots were among the last Christian Churches to adopt the singing of hymns! Until recently, the members of The Kirk sang only metrical Psalms for their church services. Indeed, the singing of hymns was considered by more than one wizened old Scot as the “invention of the devil.” Metrical Psalms are Psalms slightly altered to fit the meter of the melody. The musical psalms for today’s worship service are metrical Psalms, or music inspired by a particular Psalm. In the 18th and early 19th Centuries, American Churches along the frontier did not have Psalters from which to sing. They would have a literate person, known as the precentor “line” the Psalm. This leader would sing one line of the Psalm, and then the congregation would follow singing the same line. Then the leader would sing (or “line”) the second line. This procedure would continue until the entire Psalm has been sung. If there was no sermon on that day (as ministers were rare on the frontier), the worship service was simply known as a “Sam Sing” (sic.). Psalm 23, set to the tune “Crimond,” deserves special note. It is to the Scots what “God Bless America” is to Americans. It is sung at almost all memorial occasions in Scotland.
For the original publication of these notes, click here.
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
Easter Sunday, 2019
1 Corinthians 15:1-11
Resurrection Day! The most holy day in the Christian calendar as we celebrate the risen Christ! And what a glorious day we’re enjoying.
Today I begin a series on the resurrection, working through Paul’s final essay in 1st Corinthians? Some scholars divide 1st Corinthians into five essays.[1] Paul’s first essay, which consist of the first four chapters, focuses on the problem of divisions within the church. His answer is unity through the cross. So Paul begins this letter talking about the cross. His final essay is about the resurrection. Paul covers the bases in 1st Corinthians, from Good Friday to Easter Sunday.
The 15th chapter of 1st Corinthians provides the most detailed treatment of the resurrection found in scripture. In the gospels, we read first-hand accounts of Jesus’ resurrection. Here, Paul explores resurrection theology and its implication.
The focus of our faith is that Christ rose from the grave. Yes, it’s important that he paid the price for our sin on Friday. But if there is no resurrection, what difference would it make? The reason Friday can be called “Good Friday” and not “Black Friday” or “Sad Friday” or “We are Doomed Friday” is because Christ rose from the dead. And he promises the same to those who believe and follow him.
Fredrick Buechner visualizes the resurrection this way:
“Remember Jesus of Nazareth, staggering on broken feet out of the tomb toward the Resurrection, bearing on his body the proud insignia of the defeat which is victory, the magnificent defeat of the human soul at the hands of God.”[2]
The resurrection is victory over all that is evil and corrupt. It’s a victory over all that’s wrong with this world. It’s a victory over death! The cross is not the final word. We deserve death for our sin, but God cancels what is owed and through Jesus Christ, offers us life. Let’s hear what Paul has to say: Read 1st Corinthians 15:1-11)
It was about this time of the year that Elvira showed up at church one Sunday morning. It was during my first year as a pastor in Cedar City, Utah. She was a frail woman and asked that we pray for her son, Carl, who was battling cancer. We did. Over the next few weeks she kept coming and I got to know her better. She was living in an adult foster home as her daughter, who’d moved her from Nebraska to the daughter’s home in Utah, couldn’t deal with her anymore. I also learned that she had not seen her son in years, even though he was now living in Las Vegas, just a three hour drive away.
A few months later, her daughter who lived in St. George, about fifty miles away, came to see me. “I need to explain my mother,” she said. I felt she was looking for me to relieve her of guilt for having placed her mother in this adult foster home. She got more than she’d bargained for that afternoon. When she left my office, she more troubled than when she had arrived, and I can only credit it to God. For you see, as she was telling me about her mother, she started to talk about her good-for-nothing brother, the one for whom we’d been praying. She couldn’t understand why he mattered so much to her mother. As she talked, things began to click in my mind.
“Wait just a minute,” I finally interrupted. “Your brother, Carl, does he also go by Doug.” There was a period of silence. She turned pale. I had my answer. It was awkward.
His name was Carl Douglas and he had lived in Virginia City when I was a student pastor there. In the five or so years in between, I’d lost track of Doug, but I had been with him when the doctor had given him the bad news that he had cancer. When I last talked to him, it was in remission, but had come back with a vengeance. I’d been praying for this friend, without knowing it, for months. And now I was sitting across from his estranged sister. Unlike her, I had only good memories of her brother. New Year’s Eve 1988 was one. It was a Saturday and we both had plans for the evening, but when I was in the church practicing my sermon I heard water running and after checking found there was a busted pipe in the heating system, underneath the organ. Doug came right down and we spent a couple of hours fixing the pipe so that we might have heat for Sunday. That was only one example. He was known of his kindness, for being quick to offer a hand to those in need.
Soon after this meeting with his sister, I was in Las Vegas and was able to see Doug. He was pretty sick and knew he was going to die, but he was in good spirits and happy to see me and to hear about his mom. He asked me to officiate at his funeral. I agreed. A few weeks later, he rebounded a bit and some friends brought him up to Cedar City where he was reunited with his mother. We all had lunch together. It would be the last time Doug saw his mother. He died a few weeks later. His sister still didn’t want anything to do with him, even in death, so when I drove down to Vegas to officiate at his funeral, I took his mother along. Since Doug had lived there for less than a year, there were only a dozen or so people at the service—his mom, his son, and a few friends.
A
few months after the funeral, Elvira arranged to move back to Nebraska. When I think about all this, I’m amazed. I see God’s hand at work. What was the probability Elvira would end up in a church in a distant city where the pastor knew her son? There was actually a good chance her son could have died and she’d never seen him or even been able to attend the funeral, or even know of his death. Thankfully, she was able to see him and attend his funeral. God enjoys working to bring about surprises and joy!
This all happened 25 years ago. I doubt Elvira is still with us. She wasn’t in the best of health and in her late 70s at the time. But in a way, she got to experience a “resurrection” of her son and that’s something special. And the best of it. It was only an appetizer to the resurrection to come.
If you look at the first verse of this chapter, you’ll see that Paul begins this section of his letter by reminding the Corinthians of what he had proclaimed to them, what they had received, and upon which they’d taken a stand. One has to first hear the good news, then accept it, internalize it, believe it and share it. It’s all necessary to complete this process of being saved. But some in Corinthian must not have taken those last steps. They’d heard the gospel preached, they listened, but they never lived it, they never internalized it and now they are beginning to question the whole concept.
Imagine hearing this letter (there were only a few people back then who could read and furthermore, with only one copy of the letter, most people would be listening to it). Think about what it was like when it was being read. You listen. Some in the room maybe getting nervous for they’ve denied the resurrection. They’re feeling the point of Paul’s pen.
In the middle of verse three, Paul cites an early creed of the church. A creed is a summary of the faith. Sometimes we recite the Apostle’s Creed, but this creed is even shorter. It testifies to five things:
Christ died for our sins.
His death was accordance to scripture.
He was buried which indicates that he really was dead, not just passed out.
He then rose from the dead on the third day and finally,
He appeared to a whole bunch of people.
From the very beginning of the church, this creed testifies to the importance of the resurrection for understanding the faith. Without it, the church has no reason to exist.
The listing of those to whom Christ appears is interesting. Paul acknowledges that he’s a latecomer. Paul also doesn’t mention the women at the tomb, instead starts his list with Cephas or Peter. Some scholars have suggested this is because Paul is a chauvinist, but that’s probably not the case. Instead, if we went back to the beginning of the letter, you’ll see that one of the divisions in Corinth involved those who followed Peter instead of Paul. Most of these believers were Jewish, which is why Paul uses Cephas, Peter’s Jewish name. We also know that Paul and Peter had significant differences. By beginning with Peter, Paul may be trying to mend fences. Besides, the Corinthians know Peter, but they probably didn’t know the various Marys and others who were there at the grave.
In the spirit of mending fences, Paul tacks on Christ’s appearance to him at the end of his list. He humbles himself, acknowledges that before this appearance he didn’t believe. He had persecuted the church. When Christ appeared to him, he was most undeserving. But it’s that way with grace; we’re all undeserving (that includes you and me). Paul does mention that he has worked harder than anyone for Christ, yet even that he credits to the grace of God.
N. T. Wright, an insightful theologian from the British Anglican community says this:
“Jesus’s resurrection is the beginning of God’s new project not to snatch people away from earth to heaven but to colonize earth with the life of heaven. That, after all, is what the Lord’s Prayer is about.” [3]
We pray, “Thy kingdom come,” and the kingdom begins as Christ is raised from the grave. The cross is important, my friends, but the resurrection is what makes our life of faith worth living. In it, we have hope, for we know that our God loves to surprise us with joy. In the same book, Wright also writes:
“The message of Easter is that God’s new world has been unveiled in Jesus Christ and that you’re now invited to belong to it.”
In other words, because of the resurrection, we’re now invited to live as God intends as we join God in his work of transforming the world—a transformation that begins with the open tomb on Easter morning. Everything will be changed. Jesus has defeated death and inaugurates the reclamation of the earth for God’s purpose.
Will we believe? Will we allow ourselves to be transformed? God is working miracles in this world. I shared one such miracle at the beginning of the sermon. God wants to reconcile the world, not just to himself, but between mother and son, brothers and sisters, friends and enemies. Will we accept God’s invitation to proclaim the good news? Will we accept the invitation to hop up on the bandwagon and follow Jesus, out of the grave and into life? Let us pray:
Almighty God, who gives life to the dead, we thank you for Jesus’ resurrection and pray that you will help all of us to be his faithful disciples, sharing his life and his hope to a confused and lost world. We ask this in Jesus’ name. Amen.
©2019
[1] See Kenneth E. Bailey, Paul Through Mediterranean Eyes: Cultural Studies in 1 Corinthians (Intervarsity Press, 2011).
[2] Frederick Buechner, The Magnificent Defeat
[3] N.T. Wright, Surprised by Hope: Rethinking Heaven, the Resurrection, and the Mission of the Church
Easter Sunrise Services are held at Landings Harbor Marina this Sunday (April 21) at 6:30 PM. Below is an article that appeared in The Skinnie, March 16, 2018.
The Sun Will Come Up
The wake-up call came at 4:30 AM Sunday morning. I am staying at a hotel right across from Old Salem in present-day Winston Salem. Washing the sleep out of my eyes, I hear the music playing from the street down below. It was been warm when I left home in eastern North Carolina, but a cold snap descended on Saturday. I dress as warmly as possible, pulling on multiple layers. I realize I don’t even have gloves with me.
Home Moravian Church Photo credit: Brian Leon of Ottawa on Visualhunt.com / CC BY-NC-ND
By 5 AM, I am outside the hotel, walking with strangers, heading to Home Moravian Church. On most street corners, we pass brass quartets playing Easter music, calling people to come. By the time I reached the church, thousands are gathered, waiting in front of the steps of the church. A cold wind blows and the dark sky spits snow. In the distance, we hear the brass playing. We shuffle around trying to stay warm and waited. The anticipation of the crowd is high as we have all gathered to participate in the second oldest Easter sunrise service in North America. The honor for the oldest sunrise tradition belongs to the Moravians of Bethlehem, Pennsylvania, who began holding such services in 1754.
It was still dark when a light comes on inside the church foyer. Then massive wooden doors fly open and the pastor steps out, raising his arms and shouting, “Christ is Risen!” We respond, “He is Risen Indeed!” The Pastor and his assistants step out of the church and we follow them down Church Street to God’s Acre, the community’s cemetery. God’s Acre is actually many acres, large enough to hold the thousands who have gathered. We pack in and wait as the sky becomes lighter gray. A few stray flakes of snow still fall.
God’s Acre, Old Salem (with Winston Salem skyline in background) Photo credit: Flasshe on Visualhunt / CC BY-NC-SA
Then it starts. All those brass quartets unite and they march in from behind us playing Easter hymns. As they move to the front, we stand and began to sing. The ministers pray and read scripture. The pastor offers a brief message about the hope of the resurrection. Somewhere behind the gray clouds, the sun rises. A new day begins. The benediction is pronounced and we head our separate ways.
Arriving back in the hotel, I stop by the restaurant for breakfast. The place is packed with those coming back from the service. The poor lone waitress is running around trying to serve everyone. Most of us just want hot coffee and are willing to wait to eat as we warm up. She apologizes and says the management had forgotten that it’s Easter Sunday and hadn’t scheduled anyone else to work the shift. Several of us help out, taking turns making and serving coffee as she takes and delivers our orders.
The Moravians of Old Salem have been celebrating Easter Sunrise at God’s Acre since 1772, picking up on a practice that begin in Europe in 1732. In the town of Hernhut, which is now in the Czech Republic, the young men of the church gathered in the cemetery during the night and waited for dawn by singing hymns of the faith. The services are simple with hymns, prayers, scripture and a brief message that is all done to the glory of God. The sunrise service is now an established tradition within the Moravian Church and one that has been adopted by many other Christian denominations.
Of course, those Moravian young men were not the first to be up at sunrise on Easter. That distinction goes to the women described in the gospels who headed out before sunrise to anoint Jesus body before the tomb was sealed. They were shocked to find the grave open and Jesus’ body missing. As the events of that day unfold, they learn of his resurrection, an event that gives hope to Christians to this day.
I first attended an Easter sunrise service as a high school student. It was held in a cemetery off Greenville Sound, east of Wilmington, North Carolina. Unlike the year I was at Old Salem, the skies were clear. And just as the sun broke over the horizon, its rays reflecting off the water and bring warmth to the marsh grass, several ducks took the skies, their calls and the flapping of their wings drowning out the voice of the preacher. Even they celebrated the new day. In the years before seminary, I would attend many such services at a variety of locations. The message was always the same. Christ has risen!
Sunrise from Virginia City Cemetery
For obvious reasons, sunrise services seem to be more popular in the American South, but as a seminary student pastor, I brought the tradition to Virginia City, Nevada. There, we gathered on “Boot Hill” on a cold morning. The temperature was in the mid-20s and the wind was blowing hard over Mount Davidson. But we witnessed a glorious sunrise, the rays racing up Six Mile Canyon. Afterwards, we enjoyed coffee and warm pastries back at the church.
In my first call to a church in Ellicottville, New York, a community known for skiing, we partnered with Holiday Valley, the local ski resort, to host the service on a deck outside a clubhouse. It was even colder than at Virginia City, but most of us were dressed appropriately, wearing ski bids and parkers. A young woman volunteered to provide music on a keyboard. We started with a song and were going to close with the traditional hymn, “Christ the Lord is Risen Today.” As we began to sing, she missed note after note and I looked over to see what was wrong. The keyboard had frosted over between hymns and her fingers were sticking to the keys. Afterwards, with hot drinks and donuts inside the lodge, we had a laugh over the situation. The next year, she brought a blanket to lay over the keyboard.
This year, Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church will hold a Sunrise Service for islanders at Landing Harbor Marina on Easter Sunday, April 1, beginning at 6:45 AM. Sunrise is at 7:12 AM. We shouldn’t have to worry about fingers sticking to the keyboard or shuffling around to stay warm in freezing weather, but you may want to come prepared with bug spray, a jacket and a lounge chair. We’ll gather in the darkness and the service will conclude shortly after the sunrise. If it is raining, the service will move to Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church, located at 50 Diamond Causeway. There, in Liston Hall, we can experience a virtual sunrise on a video monitor while enjoying dry conditions. Last year, a large crowd enjoyed a glorious Sunrise and everyone is invited again this year.
For more information, call Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church at 598-0151 or go to the website, www.sipres.org.
Sunrise Service 2018
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
Mark 2:21-28
April 14, 2019
We’re coming to the last Sunday in our series, “Busy: Reconnecting with an Unhurried God.” I hope you have discovered a freedom to enjoy life and God and not be so hectic about things. Today we celebrate Palm Sunday. Are we too busy for a parade? In our text, today, we’re going to look at something different as we end this series. We’re looking at the Sabbath, which I’ve heard called the first labor law.[1] God realizes that we all need to rest, just as God rested on the seventh day. But we humans often have a way of taking a good thing way too far and screwing it up, as we’re going to see this morning in an encounter between Jesus and the Pharisees. Read Mark 2: 21-28.
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Do you think the Pharisees might have been picking on Jesus for the wrong reason? They get all over him for harvesting grain on the Sabbath, but don’t say anything about the fact Jesus and his disciples are in someone else’s grain field? Think about this for a moment as I go off on a tangent.
I inherited my Presbyterianism from my great-granddaddy McKenzie. He was a strong church leader who served as an elder at Culdee Presbyterian Church for over 40 years. It was the church his father and grandfather help establish in those dark days following the War Between the States. Like most churches in the day, it emphasized the fear of God and the preacher regularly reminded the congregation about God’s judgment.
My great-granddaddy often told stories about his life when he was a boy. Sadly, because I was just a boy, I never wrote them down. I wish I remembered them all, but a couple I do recall. One had to do with him goofing off one summer day when he happened by a neighbor’s watermelon patch. It was hot and those watermelons were tempting. My great-granddaddy took out his knife and cut one open. With his hands, he dug out the heart—that sweet center of the melon—and ate it. It was good, so good he decided to go for another. Soon, melon juice was running down his chin and staining his shirt. But boy, they were good. The few joys of a hot summer, in my opinion, are good tomatoes and watermelon.
Now, as my grandfather was stuffing himself, something strange occurred. It was becoming cooler and the sky was darkening, which was odd since there were no clouds in the sky. Then the birds began to sing as if it was evening. He looked up and to his horror saw the sun, high overhead, disappearing. He dropped the melon he was working on and ran, as fast as he could in his bare feet, home. “I didn’t want to be caught in another man’s watermelon patch on judgment day,” he told me. At the time, he didn’t know it was an eclipse, which was perhaps good since he seemed to instill him with a healthy awe of the Creator.
This brings me back to the subject of Jesus and the disciples munching in some farmer’s field on the Sabbath. The reason the Pharisees didn’t get on Jesus for his disciples harvesting food that didn’t belong to them was that Jewish law allowed one to pluck grain with their hands from their neighbor’s field. According to Deuteronomy, we’re told:
If you go into your neighbor’s standing grain, you may pluck the ears with your hand, but you shall not put a sickle to your neighbor’s standing grain.[2]
In other words, you could take what you needed to quench your hunger, but you weren’t allowed to drive a combine through your neighbor’s fields. (I’m not sure this applies to watermelons). This loophole in the law was necessary in the days before roadside restaurants. Those traveling had to have a way to obtain food. So the Pharisees don’t get onto Jesus for theft. Instead, they accuse him of laboring on the Sabbath. This labor involved harvesting (plucking the grain) and threshing (rubbing the grain in their hands to remove the chaff). Kind of picky, don’t you think? Jesus defends himself by recalling that David once ate holy bread when he was hungry. Ask yourself: “What’s going on here?”
Jesus is doing something knew. Our passage begins with an illustration about patching coats and wineskins. This is probably not something any of us have experienced for we either replace our coats or take them to the tailor on Montgomery Cross. And our wine is aged in barrels and tends to come to us in bottles. But back in the first century, you had to patch your coats, and skins were used to hold wine. So you made sure the cloth you used to patch something was preshrunk and that your wineskins were new so that it would stretch and not bust open during the fermenting process.
This illustration is followed by the story of Jesus and the disciples eating from a field on the Sabbath. Again, he’s doing something new and it doesn’t go over well with the establishment.
The Sabbath demonstrates God’s concerned for our well-being. To paraphrase Jesus’ remarks to the Pharisees, “The Sabbath was made for humanity, not the other way around.” The Jewish faith, at the time of Jesus, emphasized the Sabbath so much that it was seen as a mark of faith. However, there were those within the tradition that challenged this idea and reminded people that the Sabbath was made for them, not the other way around.[3] But the legalists would have nothing to do with that.
As the Sabbath is made for us, we should consider how it was understood in the early church. Paul tells the Romans that some think one day is better than another while others think all days are equal, and in Colossians he says we shouldn’t let ourselves be judged over the Sabbath.[4] From the writings of Paul, the early church felt it had the right to shift the Sabbath from the last day of the week to the first, in honor of Jesus’ resurrection. That said, Paul does not suggest we forget about the Sabbath. We still need rest. Only it’s not rigidly required that our rest occur on a particular day of the week. On the one hand this is good for it gives us freedom. Unfortunately, this freedom has led many to forget the Sabbath altogether.
Jesus is concerned for our well-being. He gets upset with the legalism of the Sabbath laws of the first century. One must eat, but the religious leaders of the day were making that difficult. Jesus’ teaches us here something about the gracious nature of God. There is a dangerous tendency to see the law and things like the 10 Commandments as restrictions on our freedom. But that’s not why they were given. God didn’t give the commandments as a test we have to pass in order to go to paradise. Instead, the commandments are rough guidelines within which we can enjoy life, starting now.
The Sabbath Command is a reminder that we are not able to run ragged 24/7. We need rest, both daily (which is why night was created), and for an extended period at least once a week. The Sabbath is a day we can put our employment concerns aside, and just enjoy the creation God has given us. It’s a day we can enjoy the families that God has given us. It’s a day we can catch our breath and look around and give thanks.
When I was a small child we lived on a parcel next to my great-grandparents farm. On occasion, we ate Sunday dinner with them. First thing my great-grandma did when she got home from church was make biscuits. Much of the dinner was already prepared but the biscuits had to be fresh. First, she’d take some kindling and light a fire in her wood burning stove. Don’t get the idea that we were hillbillies because my great-grandma had a perfectly good gas range sitting in her kitchen, it’s just that she preferred the wood burning stove for most of her cooking. After her death in the summer of ’64, the wood burning range was taken out, but before then I have good memories, as a five or six year old, gathering up chucks of stove wood my great-granddaddy had split. As the oven heated up, my great-grandma mixed up some flour, salt, and baking soda, cut in some lard, then added buttermilk. She’d knead the gluey glob till it was smooth, rolled it out, and cut out the biscuits. Soon a heavenly scent filled the room.
When the meal was over, if it was meal without pie, my great-granddaddy would get up and go to the pantry and come back with a jar of molasses or honey. He’d drop a big plop of butter in his plate, pour on the sweetener, and mix it up real good with his folk. Then, throwing away all manners, he’d sop it up with the left-over biscuits. It was good. Afterwards, we kids would run out and play while the adults retired to either the back porch or, if in winter, the parlor. When we’d come back in an hour or so later, they’d all be napping.
Jesus in this story doesn’t negate the Sabbath. He just encourages us to use it as it was created, for our benefit. Take a deep breath. Receive the Sabbath as a gift from a gracious God. Amen.
©2019
[1] I heard the idea of the Sabbath as the first labor law in a lecture by Dr. Dale Bruner.
[2] Deuteronomy 23:25.
[3] In a commentary on Exodus written around 180 AD, Rabbi Simeon ben Mensasy refers to an older saying, “The Sabbath is given to you but you are not surrendered to the Sabbath.” See William L. Lane, The Gospel According to Mark (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1974), 119.
[4] Romans 14:5, Colossians 2:16.
Arthur C. Brooks, Love Your Enemies: How Decent People Can Save America for the Culture of Contempt (HarperCollins, 2019), 243 pages, index and notes.
In this year’s January Series from Calvin College, I heard Brooks speak. Much of his presentation, it appears, was taken from this book which was released in mid-March. I’m glad it is in print for I was impressed with his talk and liked how he addresses the lack of civility in American political discourse. What bothers Brooks isn’t anger. Anger can be effective in the right circumstances. Nor is he bothered by arguments. That, too, can be productive. He doesn’t even want us to tolerate each other for that seems to be a way to look down on others. Brooks argues for us to love everyone, especially our enemies. What frightens Brooks about American society is the rise of contempt for “the other.” When we get to a point where we wish our enemies would disappear or go away, it’s easy to consider them less than human. Then we have a real problem. Brooks’ points out how this is a problematic for both sides of the political spectrum in America today. Looking back at the 2016 Presidential election, he points to Clinton’s comments about the “deplorable” folks behind Trump, and to Trumps many comments in which he belittled or attacked the dignity of “others.”
Brooks is an economist and the director of the American Enterprise Institute, which he describes as a “center-right” think tank. He often draws from economic principals in a making a case for having a diversity of opinions at the table. He believes in competition in both the business world as well as in the marketplace of ideas. When there are more ideas and choices being discussed and debated, the chances of us coming up with a better solution increases. But when voices are silenced and viewed with contempt, we will all lose because the best ideas may be kept from rising to the top.
Brooks begins his book by examining the rise of contempt in our culture. He draws from many fields to make his case. He insist that those on both sides of most arguments have values and to treat the other side as someone without values is the beginning of a culture of contempt. Our problem intensifies (and is undermined) when we use our values as weapons. He suggests that we all make friends and really listen to those with whom we disagree. Not only will this help us sharpen our own views, we might learn something. He also encourages his readers who feel they don’t like the other side to “fake it,” noting that just forcing a smile can help change our own outlook and help us to relate to others.
The book ends with five rules in which we can resist the culture of contempt in our society.
- Resist “the powerful” (especially those on your side of the debate). When you just listen to the politician or the news media you agree with, you are easily manipulated. He encourages us to stand up to those who belittle others, especially those with whom we agree. It’s easy to stand up to those with whom we generally disagree.
- Get out of our bubbles and listen to and meet those from the other side. How else will we hear diverse opinions?
- Say no to contempt and treat everyone with love and respect even when it is difficult.
- Disagree better. Be a part of a healthy competition of ideas.
- Tune out: disconnect from unproductive debates. Brooks sees social media as a problem for our democracy as we find ourselves in constant debates in which no one changes their minds. Sabbaticals from such dialogue can be helpful to our own well being.
Brooks is a committed Roman Catholic and while his faith is displayed throughout the book, he also demonstrates his openness to others. He is a good friend of the Dalia Lama from whom he has learned much. At the end of the book, he encourages his readers to become “missionaries” as we help with love and kindness to provide an alternative for the contempt in our society. This is a useful and timely book. I highly recommend it and hope it becomes a best seller. Interestingly, Brooks is donating all the profits for his book to the American Enterprise Institute. That’s an example of someone living the missionary life!
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
Ecclesiastes 3:1-15
April 7, 2019
Now that we have heard the first eight verses of the third chapter of Ecclesiastes, let’s now listen for the next seven verses as I read from The Message translation. Read Ecclesiastes 3:8-15.
This chapter is a wonderful poetic break in the middle of a book that’s often considered depressing. After all, Ecclesiastes begins by pointing out the vanity of everything, and it’s here we find such wisdom such a living dog is better than a dead lion.[1]
This is not recommended reading if you needed a pick-me-up, but since the book has found itself as a part of both the Jewish and Christian Canons, we have to deal with it. What are we being told here?
Our Lenten series encourages us to slow down, take a deep breath, and reconnect to an unhurried God. How might this passage encourage us to make such connections?
Our reading today begins with a thesis statement: “For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven.” If there is a time for everything, maybe we shouldn’t be so concerned about trying to do everything at once. The author, assumed to be Solomon even though his name is not used,[2] then provides us with fourteen pairs of opposites. We experience birth and death, planting and harvestings, and so forth. No values are given to either side. The couplet’s are like the Chinese Yin and Yang, both sides necessary for completeness.
Most of the opening couplets are self-explanatory, but not all. Verse five is traditional translated as a time to throw away stones and gathering stones together. We might wonder why gather stones if you are just going to toss them out. This appears to be related to ancient Israel’s laws around cleanliness and when a husband and wife might have sexual relations.[3] You didn’t expect that, I’m sure. The Message, from which I read this morning, captures this in its translation: “A right time to make love and another to abstain.
Verse seven speaks of a time for tearing and time for mending. Again, what’s up with this? Why rip up clothes only to repair them? This probably refers to the ancient tradition of ripping one’s clothes during periods of mourning and then repairing them once the mourning period is over. There is a time for sadness, grief and mourning, and a time to get on with life.[4]
This list reminds us that, like the seasons, there is a cycle to our lives. If Solomon had lived by the ocean, he might have added the tides. The cycles of life are all around us, but some are experienced more frequently than others. If we accept God’s sovereignty, there is no need for us to constantly be distraught over life’s ebbing and waning. We are freed to enjoy what we can while trusting and having faith that things won’t always be bad.
We can look at this list hoping we might understand life, but there is no wisdom to be discovered in such patterns.[5] While it’s evident that the human experience is a part of each of these couplets, we realize that we have no control over when or how they’re experienced. That’s left up to God.[6] The author of this book often reminds us that we live our lives in God’s domain and “under the sun.”[7] If we think we can ultimately have control over everything, we’re going to be disappointed. We’re not God, as this passage reminds us.
While we don’t discover any secret patterns in the first eight verses, we are given keys to understanding how we should live our lives in such a random world in the second part of our reading. We make the best of it, and we enjoy what we’ve been given.
We can be relieved that even though the patterns of life often seem vain, the author does find meaning in a life centered in God. After searching for meaning in the patterns of life, he comes to the conclusion that God wants us to enjoy life. Verses 12 and 13 reads, “we can never know what God is up to, whether he’s coming or going. I’ve decided that there is nothing better to do than go ahead and have a good time and get the most we can out of life.”
Tim Keller, writing about marriage provides insight:
“The world goes on and we must live in it. We must take thought for tomorrow. Yet our assurance about God’s future world transforms our attitudes toward all our earthly activities. We should be glad of success, but not overly glad, and saddened by failure, but not too downcast, because our true joy in the future is guaranteed by God. So we are to enjoy but not be “engrossed” in the things of this world.”[8]
The author of Ecclesiastes, who lived long before Christ, doesn’t share the same hope we have—that one day we will live eternally with our Lord. But even without such assurance, he was wise enough to know God wants us to take pleasure in life.
In our series on our need to reconnect to an unhurried God, Ecclesiastes reminds us of two things: let God be God and enjoy what God provides.
In his acknowledgements at the beginning of his book on aging which I read this past week, Parker Palmer, a spiritual author from the Quaker tradition, writes:
We grow old and die in the same way we live our lives. That’s why this book is not about growing old gracefully. My life has been graced, but it certainly hasn’t been graceful—I’ve done more than my share of falling down, getting up, and falling down again. The falling down is due to missteps and gravity. The getting up is due to grace, mediated by people to whom I owe great debts of gratitude.[9]
It’s all about grace, and accepting God’s grace should lead us to gratitude.
There are cycles to our lives. Some things change frequently and we experience them over and over. I find myself more and more constantly following the stars at night, knowing where favorite constellations are at for a particular time of the year. For me, this all began when surf fishing at night on Masonboro Island, where in the fall I watched Tarsus, the seven sisters, Orion and Canis Major with the bright dog star all rise over the ocean. We experience the cycles of the moon, the tides, and the seasons. Likewise, the church year is filled with cycles as we long for Jesus’ coming in Advent, celebrate his birth with Christmas, remember his suffering and death during Holy Week and celebrate his resurrection on Easter and every Sunday morning.
We live life within cycles, but we have little control over when they happen. Of course, some of our cycles in life are only experienced once. We are only a child once. Unless there’s a hiccup in our learning, we only finish the first and second and on to the twelfth grades once… We have a period of working and building a life, then a period of retirement and aging. It’s all a part of how God knit together this world. Instead of fighting against the changes of life, we should graciously accept what loving God provides and trust him to see us through.
We can’t control when the cycles of life happen, but we can control how we respond to them. Receive them as a gift, as grace. Amen.
©2019
[1] Ecclesiastes 1:1, 9:4.
[2] The author is named as “Qoheleth” which is traditionally translated as “Preacher”, but is identified as the Son of David, king of Jerusalem (See Ecclesiastes 1:1). This fits Solomon, but David had other sons, too.
[3] Robert Gordis, Koheleth: The Man and his World, a Study of Ecclesiastes (New York: Schocken Books, 1968), 230.
[4] Gordis, 230-231.
[5] While there have been attempts to link the first eight verses with astrology, it has generally been treated as “far-fetched.” See Gordis, 229.
[6] William P. Brown, Ecclesiastes: Interpretation, A Biblical Commentary for Teaching and Preaching (Louisville, KY: John Knox Press, 2000), 40, 42. As for patterns, see Robert Davidson, Ecclesiastes and the Song of Solomon, (Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1982), 22.
[7] The “under the sun” phrase is used 27 times between Ecclesiastes 1:3 and 9:11. In 4:7, it’s tied with the vanity of life.
[8] Timothy Keller, The Meaning of Marriage: Facing the Complexities of Commitment with the Wisdom of God (New York: Dutton, 2011), 176. Keller is writing about marriage and not directly commenting on Ecclesiastes.
[9] Parker J. Palmer, On the Brink of Everything: Grace, Gravity & Getting Old (Oakland, CA: Berrett-Koehler Publisher, 2018), ix.
I am heading to a conference at Ghost Ranch, a Presbyterian Conference Center in North New Mexico, so there will be no sermon this week. Instead, let me catch up by providing three short (for me) book reviews of works I recently read (or listened to the unabridged audio book).
Richard White, The Republic for Which It Stands: The United States during Reconstruction and the Gilded Age, 1865-1896 (Oxford, 2017), 928 pages
This book is a part of the Oxford History of the United States collection. Richard White is a noted Western United States historian and author of It’s Your Misfortune and None of My Own: A New History of the American West (Oklahoma, 1991). It’s a massive book that begins with the death of Abraham Lincoln and ends with the election of William McKinley.
White merges together two eras that are often separated by historians: reconstruction and the Gilded Age. He makes the case that the two should be connected. This was the age that America was rising to its world prominence. It was also an age where the country was growing rapidly, especially through immigration. As a uniting theme for this period, White choses the home. The home found itself under attack as the country shifted from the home being the basis of the economy dependent on small farms to a nation of industry where workers toiled for wages. Although politicians on both sides of the aisle would lift up the home as the ideal, the home (as the White Protestant ideal) was under attack and rapidly changing during this period. Economically, this was the period of the gold standard. White’s knowledge of the West, where mining had a vested interest in bimetallism (using both gold and silver for currency), helps him to navigate this debate. Another economic concept that was highly debated was the meaning of labor. As the economy changed from farming to industry, who free were corporations and workers to collectively bargain. This leads for long discussions about court decisions, especially around the 14th Amendment.
In the book’s forward, it was noted that a grammatical change occurred within America following the Civil War. Before the war, people would say, “The United States are…” After the war, people would say, “The United States is…” During this era, in which America filled in the vast territories of the West with states, the United States became the country we know. Only a handful of states were added after 1896.
I enjoyed this book, but then this is the period I have studied the most. My first college class, taken in the summer between high school and college, was a history class that focused on United States and Europe from the 1870s through the First World War. And I would later write a dissertation in this era, focusing on the church’s role in the Nevada mining camps. White covers a lot of material in this book (and his lists of sources at the end of the book could keep a historian busy for a lifetime). This is a wonderful addition to the Oxford History of the United States collection.
Les Standiford, Meet You in Hell: Andrew Carnegie, Henry Clay Frick, and the Bitter Partnership That Changed America (Broadway Books, 2006), 336 pages
I listened to an unabridged copy of this book.
This was my third book by Standiford and I have enjoyed them all. I have twice read Last Train to Paradise, which is about Henry Flagler and the building of the East Coast Florida Railway to Key West. I have also read The Man Who Invented Christmas which is about Charles Dickens and the publication of A Christmas Carol. As with his writings of Flagler, in Meet You in Hell, Standiford turns again to industrial titans of the late 19th and early 20th Centuries, looking at the partnership between Andrew Carnegie and Henry Clay Frick. When Carnegie merged his steel empire with Frick’s coal and coke (a purified form of coal used in steel making), a mighty industry began that eventually led to the corporation known as United States Steel. But it wasn’t a smooth partnership. The two were willing to stab the other in the back, which led to bitter conflicts in both business and in politics (their last great rivalry was Frick opposition to what became the League of Nations, while Carnegie supported the effort to bring nations together in order to end war. Although a “peacemaker”, Carnegie made a lot of money supplying steel plates for the American navy.
The title comes from a request from Carnegie to meet with Frick shortly before his death. Frick’s responded back, “I’ll meet you in hell,” noting that he felt that was both of their destinations in the life to come.
The highlight of this story is the 1892 Homestead Strike. The strike occurred while Carnegie was summering in his native Scotland. Frick played hardball with the miners, bringing in Pinkerton’s which led to a bloody stand-off. Frick himself was even shot, but not by a striker. An anarchist attacked Frick following the strike. To the workers Frick became a hated man. Many thought it would have been different had Carnegie had been at the helm. In fairness to Frick, Standiford points out how Carnegie also undermined unions even while speaking positively about them.
In addition to providing insight into their business partnership, this book provides short biographies of both men and covers their life after they had made their fortunes. Carnegie went on to build libraries and establish foundations. Frick established a top-notch art gallery in New York and also a large park in Pittsburgh.
In the last chapter, Standiford attempts to link the early 21st century with the ending of the 19th century. While there are similarities (little wage growth for workers, few union members, expansive growth and income for corporations and management), I think he’s stretching it as we are in completely different economies. Still, as one who has read several books about Homestead, I enjoyed and learned much from this book.
Craig Childs, Atlas of a Lost World: Travels in Ice Age America (Pantheon Books, 2018), 270 pages.
Like the above two books, this is also a history book, but it goes back a lot further and covers a time frame that extends from roughly 30,000 years ago to 12,000 years ago, at a time where North America big game hunters were going after mammoths animals that make the modern day bison appear puny, The book is also a travelogue in which the author spends time on the Bering land bridge and popular hunting areas from the Pacific Northwest to Mexico and east to the Florida panhandle. At each site, Child’s informs the reader about the tools used to hunt the animals and theories as to how they lived, while imaging what it the area would have been liked during the ice age. Childs and his companions suffered to cross Alaskan mountain ranges and to deal with a buggy and wet campsite in Florida. On another occasion, they play-act the last great hunt of the beasts who were gone from the Americas over 13,000 years before Europeans arrived. At another site in Northern Minnesota, Childs freezes his butt off camping in the winter.
Atlas of a Lost World was interesting. I learned a lot about tool making and Childs personal relationships (he and his wife split up somewhere between Alaska and Florida, I’m not sure where), but I felt the book lacked a purpose that could have strengthened it. Childs does attempt to link the dying off of the great mammals with climate change, but that seems a little stretched. Certainly, the reader comes away from the book understanding that change is constant on earth, as species die and others adapt.
Childs is an accomplished outdoorsman, but I question his knowledge of poisonous snakes in the Southeast. He seemed to be overly concerned with the deadly poisonous cottonmouths (water moccasins) dropping from trees into boats. These snakes aren’t known for climbing trees. There are several types of water snakes, some with similar markings to the cottonmouth, who do climb trees, but they are not poisonous. Of course, it’s more exciting to worry about a poisonous snake dropping in one’s boat. A cottonmouth might still fall into a boat, but not from a tree. They are known to sun on logs and if you bumped the wrong log with your canoe, the snake might slide off in an attempt to get away from you and end up where you don’t want him.
This is my third book by Childs, who is by training a water hydrologist. The first book I read of his is my favorite, The Secret Knowledge of Water. I later read The Soul of Nowhere In this work, he studies another long-gone group of people, the Anasazi, whose civilization flourished until around the year 1200, when they seemed to die out, although they are probably the ancestors of the Hopi, Navajo, and other Native American tribes in the American West.
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
March 24, 2019
Luke 10:38-42
Our morning Gospel reading this morning stands in contrast to our Old Testament lesson. In our first reading, we heard about a Shunamite woman who, out of the goodness of her heart, shows hospitality to Elisha.[1] Not only did she feed and give him lodging, she adds a guest room on to her house so he can stay in comfort… Contrast this to the story of Mary and Martha. During a visit by Jesus, Mary sits at his feet while Martha spends the afternoon in the kitchen. Martha isn’t happy with the arrangements and asks Jesus to order her sister to help. Do you remember Jesus’ response? The woman in the Old Testament reading was rewarded for her hospitality, in the New Testament reading Martha, who tries to be hospitable, is critiqued. What’s up with that? Let’s check it out. Read Luke 10:38-42.
A recent article in Fortune Magazine, reporting on the 2019 World Happiness Report, claims the United States is the unhappiest it’s even been. I don’t believe that statement is quite right. I’m pretty sure they weren’t conducting such research at the height of the Civil War or Great Depression, but the article points out we’ve been dropping in the happy list for the past several years. We’re still in the top quarter of the pack, but we’re not doing as well as we once did. By the way, we don’t want to be at the bottom of this list, which is populated with war-torn regions like the South Sudan, Central African Republic, Afghanistan, Yemen and Syria… We’re way ahead of them, which isn’t hard to achieve. But ahead of us are all the Scandinavian Countries, many European Countries along with Canada, Australia, New Zealand, and Costa Rica.
While prosperity is rising, we’re less happy. As the old cliché goes, money can’t buy happiness. But there are many other factors playing into this study. One of the study’s co-authors noted that the United States is a “mass-addiction society.” This isn’t just addictions to drugs and alcohol, which I think we would all agree brings unhappiness. But there’s a host of other addictions: “gambling, social media use, video gaming, shopping, consuming unhealthy foods, exercising, engaging in extreme sports, and risky sexual behaviors.” All of these create problems for happiness. Addiction is on the rise.[2] Let that sink in for a minute.
Arthur Brooks, one of this year’s Calvin January Series speakers, had a new book come out this month. I read the first half of it this past week. It’s titled, Love Your Enemies: How Decent People Can Save America from the Culture of Contempt. I highly recommend it. Brooks’ points out that anger isn’t our problem. What he sees as a problem is contempt. When we are angry, we are generally wanting something better. When we hold someone in contempt, we are essentially wishing they didn’t exist. In a chapter titled “The Culture of Contempt,” he suggests that much of America, even though we hate it, are addicted—there’s that word again—to political contempt. We don’t like what this contempt does to us (not to mention those we disagree with), but we can’t seem to get enough of it. Like a junkie, we “indulge” in the habit. And the media, who has economic interest in our addiction, is more than happy to feed us.[3]
How do we break this cycle? How do we realign ourselves? How do we get back in line with what it means to be an American? To be a Christian? To be a follower of Jesus?
Do any of you remember the old movie, City Slickers? It doesn’t seem to be old, but the movie was released in 1991. It starred Billy Crystal who, with a group of his friends from the city, decide to go out west for a few weeks to help round up cattle. In one scene, Crystal is riding on a horse beside Curly, an old fashion cowboy who could have been the Marlboro Man. When Crystals asks about his secret to being content in life, Curly points his index finger and says it’s this. Crystal is confused and asks, “You’re finger?” Curly shakes his head and replies it’s just one thing. Of course, Curly isn’t able to tell Crystal what’s his one thing is, that’s for him to find out. This “one thing” is now known as Curly’s law.[4]
I suggest that the one thing Jesus points out to Martha was himself. Serving others is good, doing a good deed such as feeding visitors is commendable, but there is a deeper human need and if we don’t ground ourselves there, we burn out. As humans, we have a need to connect with others and as a Christian, our need includes a connection to Jesus. How do we go about this? Let’s see what our text says.
Our morning text comes on the heels of the Good Samaritan.[5] In that encounter, Jesus tells a teacher of the law, who was having a hard time understanding what Jesus was saying, a story. The message: be like the Good Samaritan, and “go and do likewise.” As with our Old Testament story, we get the idea that we’re to be about serving others. Now Jesus encounters a woman, Martha, who is so busy serving others that she can’t understand Jesus’ teachings. Jesus offers her an example, her sister. Martha needs to “sit down, listen and learn.”[6] Are we to be about serving? Or listening? Or both?
Jesus isn’t telling Martha to be inhospitable. Hospitality is an important trait of Christians. We are told in the book of Hebrews: “Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for in doing so some have entertained angels without even knowing it.”[7] We are supposed to welcome the stranger, after all we have the example of the Good Samaritan. In his parable on the last judgment, Jesus tells us that we will be judged by how we react and treat those who are poor, hungry, naked, sick, or in prison.[8] Hospitality is important; it’s imperative for us Christians to be courteous and gracious, warm and generous. But it’s not the only thing.
Let’s look at the story. Jesus is traveling and stops at Martha’s home. This passage shows us a radical side of Jesus. Ignoring all the common customs of the first century, Jesus stops in the home of a woman, who is there with her sister, and even offers the women an opportunity to sit at his feet as a disciple and listen to his teachings… This would have been a scandal in the first century. Mary takes Jesus up on his offer. She sits down and listens to what he has to say. Martha, as the host, has work to do. We can assume she’s preparing some kind of fancy dinner… As the afternoon progresses, Mary became more and more intent on listening to the saving words of Jesus while Martha became more and more disturbed that she had to make all the dinner preparations.
Finally, Martha has enough. Here, she is fixing a nice sit-down dinner, and while she’s working, her sister enjoys Jesus’ company. Perhaps, Martha’s a little envious… She tries to get Jesus on her side by appealing to his compassion. “Lord, doesn’t it bother you that I’ve had to do all the work?” she asks. Reading between the lines, we get the idea she really wants to say, “Tell Ms. Couch Potato to get in here and help…” Do you sense the contempt is rising in Martha?
Jesus is moved by Martha’s plea. He responds, repeating her name twice. I imagine he speaks softly, slowly and tenderly, “Martha, Martha.” With the right inflection, it would be like saying, “Calm down, Martha, its okay.” Then he goes on, telling her she’s worried and distracted about so many things when there was need of only one thing… Remember Curly, riding high in the saddle, and saying there’s just one thing.
There’s some question about what Jesus meant when he said that there’s only need of one thing… Is he talking about the meal? “Martha, forget the turkey and ham, the dressing and trimmings, the potatoes and beans; just fix a simple casserole or a sandwich, that’s all we need.” Or is Jesus referring to himself here. After all, he is “the way, the truth and the life.”[9] He is all we need. And, as Jesus quoted the Old Testament to the Devil earlier in Luke’s gospel, “We don’t live by bread alone.”[10] “Martha,” he may have continued saying, “forget the dinner, you only need me, you only need to learn about my peace…”
Actually, both interpretations may be right. This is not an either/or situation. It’s a both/and situation. Certainly Jesus never denied the importance of eating… He feeds the 5000 and centers our remembrance of him at a meal around a dinner table we call communion.[11] It’s important for Mary and Martha and Jesus to eat. Jesus never denies this. Yet, he is concerned over Martha’s fretting over how long the turkey has to cook. You see, as long as Martha is whipping up potatoes, she’s not able to visit. A simple meal is sufficient. A simple meal would allow them time to talk and enjoy each other’s company. With a simple meal, Martha still could be hospitable and also have a chance to sit at Jesus’ feet and learn.
Are we like Martha? Do we worry and become distracted over so many things that we are unable to see what’s truly important? Do we keep our lives so busy that we have no real quality time to spend with friends? (I’m guilty). If so, we just might be missing something important… After all, Martha missed a chance to spend time listening to our Lord’s teachings. Don’t forget about hospitality, but remember that it’s not the only thing.
You know, this is a busy time here at Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church. The Session has begun working on a strategic plan for the future. A small group of Elders have spent a lot of time on this project. This week, the rest of the Elders will join in the process, and then we’ll be asking for your help and ideas. This is good and needed work, but I encourage us to not be distracted from that which we truly need… Jesus Christ. Without Jesus, what we do will mean nothing. He’s our reason for being, for he calls us together in communion with him. So remember the main thing. Make sure to take time to spend with Jesus, daily. If you do, the rest will fall into place. Amen.
©2019
[1] 2 Kings 4:8ff
[2] Grace Dobush, “The U. S. Is the Unhappiest Its Ever Been,” Fortune Magazine (March 20, 1019). See http://fortune.com/2019/03/20/u-s-unhappiest-its-ever-been/
[3] Arthur C. Brooks, Love Your Enemies: How Decent People Can Save America from the Culture of Contempt (American Enterprise Institute, 2019), 28-29.
[4] See http://rebelzen.com/2008/08/curlys-law-how-a-fictitious-hollywood-cowboy-showed-me-the-meaning-of-life/
[5] Luke 10:25-37.
[6] Fred Craddock, Luke (Louisville: John Knox Press, 1990), 151-152.
[7] Hebrews 13:2
[8] Matthew 25:31-46.
[9] John 14:6
[10] Luke 4:4 (Deuteronomy 8:3)
[11] The Feeding of the 5000 and the Institution of the Lord’s Supper can be found in all four gospels. 5000: Matthew 14:13ff, Mark 5:30ff, Luke 7:10ff and John 6. Lord’s Supper: Matthew 26:26ff, Mark 14:22ff, Luke 22:15ff and John 13:21ff.
Belden C. Lane, The Solace of Fierce Landscapes: Exploring Desert and Mountain Spirituality (Oxford University Press, 1988), 282 pages including notes, index, and some photos included within the text.
This is a complicated book. Lane weaves together personal experiences in the mountains and deserts, along with his mother’s dying, reflections on his vast knowledge from early Christian history, and the theology of an unknowable God. The writing is dense and I found myself reaching for both a regular dictionary as well as a Dictionary of Church History. His thesis is that “apophatic tradition, despite’s its distrust of all images of God, makes an exception in using the imagery of threatening places as a way of challenging the ego and leaving one at a loss of words” (65). Apophatic theology, also known as “negative theology.” focuses on what we don’t and can’t know about God. As Lane points out, this is the God of Sinai represented by a dark cloud over a mountain. Such theology causes one to empty oneself (as the desert and mountain’s force us to do) as we seek God. Apophatic theology is the opposite of kataphatc theology (positive theology). Lane places kataphatic theology on the mountain of transfiguration, where Jesus with Moses and Elijah, were revealed in their glory. While these two traditions are in tension, Lane focus is on the former as he explores the “fierce landscapes” of the Sinai, South Asia, the Ozarks, and to the desert southwest of the United States.
Lane ends his Epilogue with the story of western travelers to California who became lost in what is now known as Death Valley in 1849. Most of the group died of hunger and as they finally found their way out of the basin, they said, “Good-bye Death Valley. He links that to a Spanish term used also to describe the place, la Palma de la Mano de Dios or the “the very palm of God’s hands” (232). While “fierce landscapes” may seem like places where God is absence, that’s often not the case. From scripture stories about one finding strength in the wilderness, to story of the early desert fathers, to our own walks through desolate places, we may find that instead of being abandoned, that we were all along being held in God’s hand.
This is my second book by Lane. Twenty-some years ago I read an early book of his, Landscapes of the Sacred: Geography and Narrative in American Spirituality. I found much to learn in both.
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
Psalm 23
March 17, 2019
Let us pray:
“Where there is darkness, give us light.
Where there is ignorance, give us knowledge.
Where there is knowledge, give us wisdom.
And for those of us that think we have the truth, give us humility.” Amen[1]
We’re looking at the 23rd Psalm today. It’s a prayer of faith not often heard on Sunday mornings; we save it for funerals. Wayne Muller in book, Sabbath, Restoring the Sacred Rhythm of Rest, points this out:
“This is the psalm we sing when people have died. This is the psalm we save for death, because in the world of progress, you do not rest in green pastures, you do not lie beside still waters, there is no time. Never in this life. Only when we get to the promised land.”[2]
Muller’s sarcasm questions why we save the best for last. Good question. God wants us to enjoy “abundant life,” today. This “Busy” series is about embracing God’s gifts now, not just waiting for them to come to us in heaven.
Of course, this Psalm also provides us with “poignant words of trust” to say at the time of death.[3] As Paul reminds us, death is the last of our enemies to be destroyed.[4] So the Psalm gives us comfort at a time of grief, but the words only ring true if we have trusted and experienced God’s intervention in our lives. So, this morning, ask yourself what this Psalm say to you? Let’s listen carefully for a fresh understanding. Read Psalm 23.
The Northeast Cape Fear River broadens and deepens as it flows through Holly Shelter Swamp. In this area, on a high bluff on the east bank of the river was my scout troop’s favorite camping site. The ridge was forested with tall long-leaf pines. Lining the banks along the river were dogwoods, tupelo and cypress, their branches adorned with Spanish moss. The leisurely pace of the river invited us boys to sit on its banks and throw sticks into the water, watching them slowly float away. It’s the type of life Mark Twain wrote about on the Mississippi, a life of ease beside peaceful waters that seem to hold some mysterious power to heal, to forget our troubles, and to be renewed.
In the late afternoon, things would change. As the sun dropped in the west behind trees, it created long shadows on the black waters. An eeriness descended. Spanish moss now appeared as the long beards of men whose mysterious and untimely death occurred in the backwaters of Holly Shelter Swamp. We had been warned.
Every Saturday around a campfire, we listened our scoutmaster, Johnny Rogena, tell us another story about a man who lost his hand in an accident in an old saw mill that stood nearby. This hand took on an evil life of its own, and had been terrorizing the swamp ever since.
Such tales were frightening, especially for an 11 year old boy. As the fire died down, we were sent back to our tents. We stayed together. When a bobcat squealed, we jumped. But soon, we were in our tents and hunkered down in our sleeping bags—the only safe place. These were convenient stories to tell young scouts for it encouraged us to stay in our tents. Sometimes at night we’d see the shadow of the hand stretch across the canvas of the tent, an effect caused by older scouts using a flashlight to project the larger than life reflection. A year or two later, when we were the older, we showed “the hand” to scare the new Tenderfoots. On those first few camping trips, we were scared and afraid to move. It took forever to fall asleep. That night, we knew what it felt like to be in the valley of death. In the morning we’d wake up and feel blessed to have made it through the night. As another Psalm reminds us, “Joy comes in the morning.”[5] We experienced such joy!
Yea through I walk through the valley of the shadow of death.” This most beloved psalm, as I pointed out, is ubiquitously used at funerals and mostly overlooked on Sunday mornings. This is unfortunate for the psalm tells us about a life lived well—a life lived in complete trust of God the Father.
Psalm 23 is attributed to King David and it certainly brings to mind key elements of his early life. As a young shepherd, he knew what it meant to lead sheep through dangerous mountainous terrain. As a mere boy, he was willing to face the giant Goliath on the battlefield. As a young man, he was being chased by the armies of King Saul, who knew he was God’s anointed. And even as an old man with many enemies, he knew the pain of having his own son attempting to take his throne. Of course, we know David had many short-comings, but he made up for them by putting his faith in God’s hands. David was a man, the scriptures tell us, after the very heart of God.[6] We can imagine David, who trusted God even when he screwed things up penning these words.
The opening verse captures the essence of the Psalm. “The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.” The Psalm begins with a powerful metaphor of God as a shepherd. Of course, God is more than just a shepherd, which was a lowly occupation in ancient Israel. God is the Creator, the judge, the warrior, the righteous one, the ancient one. All these images remind us that God is greater than just a mere tender of sheep, but like a shepherd who is devoted to his sheep, God is devoted to his people, which makes the shepherd image the perfect depiction of our relationship with God the Creator.
That opening verse ends with this statement: “I shall not want.” It can also be translated, “I don’t need anything” or “I lack nothing.” The rest of the Psalm expands upon what the Psalmist is not lacking. The Psalmist enjoys rest, refreshing water, wholeness, protection, comfort, and an abundance of food and oil.[7] This Psalm speaks to those of us who have experienced salvation, who’d heard God (or an Angel from God) say, “Fear not, I am with you,” or “Fear not, favored one.”[8] When we know that God is with us, we can be comforted despite the challenges we face, whether a made-up hand roaming the swamps of Holly Shelter, or the real challenges we face: illness, abandonment, aging, financial ruin, being falsely accused, among others. We can face these trials because we know that even though everyone may abandon us—friends, allies, and family—we also know that God will never abandon us. God is with us through thick and thin. That’s a promise to hold tight!
There are two great images at the end of this Psalm. First, there is a table set in the presence of our enemies. Royal banquets are often used in scripture to point to an eschatological future, the promised heavenly banquet where Jesus is at the head of the table and serves us. Perhaps the presence of our enemies is an invitation for them, too, to come to the table. They, too, have been created by a God who delights in bringing about reconciliation and encourages us to seek out peace with our enemies.
The second image is the cup running over. Back in the 70s and 80s, Brim decaffeinated coffee had a series of advertisements about filling our coffee cups to the rim. We don’t serve Brim in the fellowship hall. The ad world is a perfect one and no one that I remember in those commercials spilled coffee on the rug, even when the cup couldn’t contain another drop. But here, in Psalm 23, we’re promised something even greater that being filled to the rim. Our cup overflows! This is a promise of abundance.
God’s goodness is the foundation for this Psalm. Just as a shepherd wants what is best for his sheep, God wants what is best for his people. God can be trusted. Yes, there are times we may suffer. Sometimes, as when I was a Tenderfoot Scout, our fears are irrational. At other times, our fears are very real. There are people who want us to fail, thinking that it would make them look better or at least make it easier for them to succeed. There are illnesses that can take our lives. There are dangers and temptations faced by those we love. But even when we face such real fears, we can place our trust in God’s unfailing love.
When things are looking down, when life is busy and we can’t seem to get a break, we can go to this Psalm and be reminded that we are not alone. God’s goodness abounds. God’s goodness will overflow in our hearts and lives, giving us a new perspective on the challenges we face. Amen.
©2019
[1] Prayer by Rev. Ray Nott, given at the New Wilmington Missionary Conference in 1971. Marcia Bell shared this prayer with me. See note at bottom of: http://skidawaypres.org/pastor/?p=1575
[2] Wayne Muller, Sabbath: Restoring the Sacred Rhythm of Rest (New York: Bantam, 1999), 79.
[3] James L. Mays, Psalms: Interpretation, A Biblical Commentary for Teaching and Preaching, (Louisville, KY: John Knox Press, 1994), 119.
[4] 1 Corinthians 15:26.
[5] Psalm 30:5.
[6] 1 Samuel 13:14.
[7] See Mays, 117-118.
[8] Genesis 15:1, 26:24; Deuteronomy 20:1, 31:8: Isaiah 41:10, 41:13, 43:5; Matthew 1:20; Luke 1:30, 2:10.
Dan Janal, Write Your Book in a Flash: The Paint-by-Numbers System to Write the Book of Your Dreams-Fast! (TCK Publishing, 2018), 180 pages.
I was skeptical as I began flipping through this book. I was easy to skim and in 30 minutes, I had hit the highlights. Could it really help a writer accomplish a goal of publishing a book? I decided to read the book closer and to do the opening exercises with a book project I had considered several years ago.
You may or may not know that I have had the experience of leading two different congregations as they left an older landlocked facility and built a new campus. Both experiences were a blessing as I saw people catch the vision and experience what can only be described as miracles. While I don’t want to do this again, at one point I had considered consulting other churches considering such a move. Write the Book in a Flash was what I needed to help focus my thoughts. The book is written primarily for people who are involved in consulting and contract work to build their legitimacy. While I am not sure I would enjoy such consulting today, a book about moving churches could be a gift to the larger church, helping others in their own building projects.
I was amazed at how Janal’s methodology helped me frame my thoughts and ideas as I wrote my 400 word executive summary, a 50 word back cover summary, came up with a working title, profiled my ideal reader, and outlined the chapters. I feel confident that if I had a block of uninterrupted time, perhaps two weeks, I could complete this book and the final project would run between 125 and 150 pages. Write Your Book in a Flash is a workbook designed for the person interested in conveying their knowledge in a particular field.
Write Your Book in a Flash is not going to help you write the great American novel. This isn’t about creative writing. It’s about technical writing that can help your reader and, if you so desire, help you reach more clients. The book assumes its audience can already write clearly (and the book doesn’t cover grammar and plot lines and other necessities). This is a book to help people in further their influence and build their “brand.” Janal practices what he preaches as this book is an extension of his efforts to work with potential experts in different fields develop their own books. At the end of the book are advertisements for his other endeavors.
To find the book: http://geni.us/writeyourbookm
Publisher’s website: https://www.tckpublishing.com/
For full disclosure, I received a free copy of this book in exchange of an honest review.
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
March 10, 2019
Matthew 11:28-30
Jig Pendleton is crazy on religion. He’s a character in Nathan Coulter, a Wendell Berry’s novel. Jig lives alone in a shanty overlooking the Kentucky River. Like some of the original disciples, he makes a meager living fishing. When not fishing, Jig spends his days holed up in his shanty reading his Bible. Over and over again, from cover to cover, he reads the Good Book. He knows it by heart, yet he’s consumed worrying about sin. You see, Jig believes if he can just purify himself enough the Lord will dispatch a chariot of fire, and like Elijah, take him up to heaven.[1] But there’s a problem. Jig can’t quite purify himself enough. It’s too great of a task. Sooner or later, he always throws in the towel and goes on a big drunk. Then, he starts his quest all over again.[2]
You know, when it comes to religion, we often think it’s about being good, or good enough. We think we need to be like Jig in one of his purifying stages. We see religion as hard work which is why many people don’t want to be bothered with it. We forget about the joy of salvation.[3] I wonder if at times we spend way too much time on the Great Commission found at the end of Matthew’s gospel,[4] where Jesus tells his followers to go out and make disciples of all people. The operative verbs here are “go” and “make.” We see religion as making something, either out of ourselves or someone else. We’re caught in the trap of thinking the way to heaven is by hard and difficult work. We forget that long before the Great Commission, Jesus issued the Great Invitation.[5] Instead of inviting us to labor, Jesus first invites us to come to him and take a load off our backs—to take a break—to catch our breath—to find the right tempo. 
The Christian faith isn’t supposed to be hard; it’s supposed to be joyous. Life is hard when we try to do everything by ourselves which is why Jesus calls us, “Come to me, all you who are weary.”
Are you weary? (What a question to ask at time change?) Who among us isn’t a bit weary? Who among us isn’t a bit heavily burdened? In this passage, Jesus addresses a crowd of people desperate for someone to come and lift their spirits. I envision Jesus looking into the faces of weary men and women tired from the legalism of first century religion. He observes the fatigued bodies of hard working men at dead end jobs, who are sick of paying the heavy taxes imposed by the Roman rulers. He sees the broken hearts of the women who deal, day in and out, with squalling children and distant husbands. He sees the sad eyes of children without a future. Like us, who among this group isn’t a bit weary? Who isn’t carrying a heavy burden? It’s refreshing to hear Jesus say “Come to me.”
You know, Jesus doesn’t bring an end to all their problems. When those who had gathered around him woke up the next morning, many things had not changed. The men still have to go to work and the women have to take care of the children and prepare the family’s food. They still have letters from Roman IRS agents calling them in for audits and creditors banging on their doors. They still have squalling kids and screaming bosses. So just what does Jesus offer when he invites the crowd to come to him? What are we offered in this passage?
It’s easy to think that Jesus’ promise in this passage refers to our eternal rest, but that would also be very disappointing and not at all what I think he’s talking about. The primary concern for the Christian faith (along with the Jewish, as Jesus was talking to Jewish folks) isn’t our reward in the next world. Yes, the promise of eternal life is real, but when it becomes our sole focus, we prove Karl Marx right in his classic cliché that “religion is the opiate of the masses.” If we focus only on an eternal rest, then religion easily becomes a force to keep us in line and what fun is that? A state sponsored religion might be about social control; but a faith grounded in Jesus Christ is about freedom and transformation. The goal of the Christian faith isn’t to maintain status quo in individual lives or within a society. Instead, the Christian faith promises abundant life.[6]
So when Jesus says, “come to me all who are weary, and I’ll give you rest,” he’s talking about something that happens in the present. He’s promising us a new outlook on life—with him at our side. Instead of a life preoccupied with the pressures which surrounds us, he wants us to live a life thankful for what we’ve been given. We’re called to a new tempo, one that he sets, which is freer than the hectic world around us. Instead of a faith that worries if we are good enough for God, he offers a faith that gives thanks for God’s goodness. God’s goodness is what’s important, because we ourselves will never be good enough. We need to accept and be thankful that God loved us first. Our faith starts with God calling us, not the other way around and the first thing about caring for ourselves is to understand this distinction.
So Jesus invites us saying, “Come to me; take my yoke.” He’s not talking about a single yoke, one that he gives us and we wear around so that we might haul a heavy load. Instead, I think he offers a double yoke, one that he helps share the load. One in which we are able to watch him and learn how to live graciously, to appreciate beauty and to give thanks for the blessings of life. Our translation tells us Jesus’ yoke is easy, but it could also be translated as kind[7], or “easy to carry.”[8] Sure, we’re created by God for work, but we achieve more when the yoke is comfortable, just like an ox or a mule can pull longer if it has a well-fitted yoke. Since few of us have had any dealings with yokes, let me use another example.
My first real experience at backpacking occurred when I was in my first year of college. My uncle, who is a few years older than me, had just gotten out of the Navy and was also attending college. We decided to hike a new trail that ran along the crest of the Uwharrie Mountains in central North Carolina. It was 30-some miles long, not too long. I had a pack, “The Kilimanjaro,” one of the best packs K-mart sold. With a name like “The Kilimanjaro,” it sounds as if was a serious pack. We made the trek right after New Year’s, since we had a week before school resumed. With food and gear and plenty of warm clothes, we set out.
Unlike the other photos, this wasn’t in my sermon slides. Instead, I showed the backpack.
Halfway through that first day, I was in trouble. My shoulder straps were digging into my shoulders. The padding didn’t hold up. Instead of the straps displacing the weight over their width, they buckled and pulled right in the middle, making it feel as if I had a rope sawing into my shoulders. Compounding the problem was the lack of a waist band, without which I had no way to relieve the weight on my shoulders. I ended up improvising a waist band with some rope, which helped a little. By our first night, we were both hurting. Yet, we continued. When I got back home, I started saving money and before I tried anything else like that, I purchased a brand new Kelty pack. It didn’t have a fancy name like my other pack. It was the D-4 model, a staple of Kelty’s packs for years! I still have it. I threw that Kilimanjaro pack away a long time ago. With the D-4, I’ve done the entire length of both the Appalachian and John Muir Trails. I can assure you, a waistband and well-built, nice fitting shoulder straps make all the difference in the world. Had I continued hiking with the Kilimanjaro, I’d given up on the sport like my uncle did. Either that or I’d be crippled by now. We need an easy yoke if we’re going to accomplish what God plans for us.
J
esus calls us to come and learn from him how to enjoy life. He calls us to relearn our priorities, to set the right tempo. Instead of having to work hard to earn God’s grace, we accept it and thereby joyously labor not for God’s grace but to praise God for having been so good to us. We don’t have to be so rushed, because we know God is in control. We don’t have to do it all, for we trust in God’s providence. We don’t have to pretend to be God. Let that burden go!
Jig Pendleton had it all wrong. Religion isn’t about working hard; it’s about looking around and gratefully receiving all we’ve been given. It’s about accepting our position in creation and giving thanks.
Take care of yourself. Reorient your life to a new perspective, one with Jesus, as the face of God[9], at the center. Drop the guilt and long faces, slip on that easy yoke, and (most of all) enjoy the journey. Amen.
©2019
[1] 2 Kings 2:9-12.
[2] Wendell Berry, Nathan Coulter (New York, North Point Press, 1960, 1985), 15-16.
[3] Psalm 51:12.
[4] Matthew 28:16-20.
[5] Douglas R. A. Hare, Matthew: Interpretation, A Bible Commentary for Teaching and Preaching (Louisville, John Knox Press, 1993), 126.
[6] John 10:10.
[7] Hare, 129.
[8] Frederick Dale Bruner, The Christbook: Matthew 1-12, (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2004), 540.
[9] Bruner, 537.
Courtney Hargrave, Burden: A Preacher, A Klansman, and a True Story of Redemption in the Modern South (New York: Convergent Books, 2018), 227 pages, no photos or index, 22 pages of notes and sources.
Michael Burden, a troubled young man, came under the spell of John Howard, a leader in a section of the Ku Klux Klan. Howard had purchased an old movie theater across from the courthouse in Laurens, South Carolina. With Michael’s help, they partly restored the building and opened within it a Ku Klux Klan museum, a store called the “Redneck Shop,” and a center for Klan meetings and recruitment. Standing in opposition to the theater was David Kennedy, the African-American pastor of the New Beginnings Missionary Baptist Church. The confrontation between the church and community against Howard and his museum and store made national news in the 1990s. This is their story.
This is a story with a twist. When Michael Burden falls out with John Howard after his marriage to a woman with two children, he finds himself without a job and locked out of his home. Broke and with nowhere to go, the Reverend David Kennedy steps in to help. This act of grace is the centerpiece of this multi-dimension story of redemption. The story caught the attention of Andrew Heckler, who had a vision of bringing it to the theater. The movie was also released in 2018
Courtney Hargrave, a journalist and former ghostwriter, researched and wrote the book that was released in conjunction with the movie. Heckler wrote the forward for Hargrave’s book. Hargrave’s writing is crisp and reads easily. She provides enough background to the various phases of the Klan to help the reader understand the fractured history of this homegrown American terror group. She provides local historical background of white supremacy in Laurens, a town named for a slave trader and the location of lynching activity in the first half of the 20th Century. She delves into the relationship between Burden and Howard providing a case study of how older Klansmen befriend and then use lost youth to further their misguided mission. Her accounts of Reverend Kennedy’s actions show the struggle of those within the African-American community to provide the needs of their own constitutes while showing love to their enemies.
I would have liked to have learned more about the thoughts and feelings of white residents who were not involved in the Klan, especially white churches. Hargrave primarily focused on the New Beginning Church, making the battle between them and Howard. I found myself wondering if more churches, African-American and Caucasian, were involved. Although she doesn’t say so in the book, I know the author’s time was limited as she was under pressure to publish the book before the movie was released. I question if the lack of time and also the movie’s plotline (which needs to simplify the complexity of the story) might have played a role in the way she tells this story.
Hargrave’s writing reminds the reader the role race plays with groups that feel disenfranchised in America. Laurens is an upstate South Carolina town that has been gutted of its industry and hasn’t received the influx of new industry as have other communities in the region such as Greenville and Spartanburg. For those with little hope, it is easy to fall prey to organizations like the Klan. I recommend this book. Not only do we witness someone radically living out the gospel and fulfilling Jesus’ command to love and do good to our enemies, we also gain insight into how a person like Burden might be drawn into an organization like the Klan.
I doubt I would have read this book had it not been for meeting Ms. Hargrave at a reading in Savannah late last year. The story caught my attention. I’m glad I picked up a copy and I hope the book finds a wider audience. I recommend it.
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
Numbers 11:21-30
March 3, 2019
I’ve been out of the pulpit here for two weeks—it seems like a long time. Last week Deanie preached and the week before was the Presbytery pulpit exchange. You got to hear Pete Ullmann from Jessup while I preached at First Presbyterian Church in Brunswick. Don’t worry about missing anything; it was a sermon you all heard back in January. It’s good to be back in this pulpit, this morning.
We are coming to the end of our series on the “Land Between,” and our study from the 11th Chapter of the Book of Numbers. Next week, we’ll begin our Lent Journey, as we make our way toward Easter. Our theme for our Lenten series will be “Busy.” It’s a timely series; we all struggle with busyness. As a way of catching our breath, we’re going to be encouraged by scripture to reconnect to an unhurried God. As a warning, we’ll be doing a few different things in worship. It’ll be exciting, so come and invite others who feel hurried in life to join us for a refreshing break each week as we gather on Sunday.
Now, let’s go back to the “Land Between,” that desert setting we’ve been traveling over since the end of January. We have seen how this barren land in which we all travel at one point or another is fertile ground for us to complain and even have a melt-down. It’s also a place where we learn to trust God to provide what we need, and where God might discipline us. All of this, our being in the “Land Between” and God’s response, helps us grow. In the Sinai desert, God was forging the Hebrew people into a nation. When we find ourselves in such situations, we should ponder what God might be preparing us to do. What’s God’s future for us? For our text today, we’re going to look at Numbers 11:21-30. Listen: 
Little Tommy was riding in the backseat as the family came home from church. “What did you learn in Sunday School today,” his father asked.
We learned about Moses and the Israelites crossing the Red Sea,” Tommy said.
What about it?” his dad asked.
“Well, the Israelites had their back against the sea as Pharaoh’s army approached. It looked like it was going to be a slaughter. So Moses quickly summoned his combat engineers to throw together a pontoon bridge and they hastened to get everyone across. And as the Egyptians followed them across the bridge, Moses called up his Air Force and had them scramble jets who strafed and then bombed the bridge, sending Pharaoh’s army to the bottom of the sea.
His mother almost had whiplash as she turned around in her seat and looked back at Tommy. Her face was red. “Was that what your teacher taught?” she demanded. “Did she tell you all that?”
“Well, not exactly,” Tommy hesitantly responded. “But if you don’t believe my story, you certainly won’t believe hers.
Moses might be the earthly leader of the Israelites, but he’s not the one in charge. It is very clear from the beginning that God is calling the shots. God freed the people from slavery. God saved them from the Egyptian army when their backs were up against the sea. God provided food and water for his people in an inhospitable land. Moses may be the leader of these people, but he knows it’s not within his power to do any of this. God has been active.
This also applies even to the church throughout history. The key to our success isn’t from the strength of our leaders, but from the humbled willingness of God’s people to allow God to work through us to accomplish his purposes. When we are aligned with God, we can do great things. When God is against us, even the most skilled leader will be ineffective. By the way, our mission isn’t success in worldly standards. Our mission is to be faithful to the God who resurrect the dead.
Now back to Moses. He’s the face people see. And because they still aren’t sure what’s up, he’s the one who receives all the complaints. He’s weary and needs help. But unlike the people who have questioned God’s goodness, thinking the Almighty led them into the desert to die, Moses trusts the Lord. After all, God has always comes through. When Israel’s back was up against the sea, it wasn’t Moses who parted the sea. He might have lifted his arms as we see in the movies, but it was God, the one who watches out for Israel, who saves the day.
God has plans for this group of people. God doesn’t just want them to just exist. Nor, I believe, does God just want us to exist. God wants them (and us) to thrive. God wants them (and us) to grow and to be a community in which all the world is bless. So let’s look at our text for today and see how this works.
We have already seen how God provided for the people’s dietary needs, with manna and quail, as well as for Moses well-being, with others that shared the leadership burden. God has Moses bring seventy leaders into the tent and endow them with some of Moses’ spirit, giving them the power and responsibility to help lead the people. But when we looked at this text earlier (on Scout Sunday where I spoke about the patrol method and how the 70 were like patrol leaders), I cut the text off before getting to the part about how the experience of these leaders extended beyond the 70. What we find in this text is that we worship a God of surprises, and that people 3,500 years ago were no different than today. They don’t like surprises; they don’t like changes; they’re jealous when someone outside their group has a special experience.
Let’s look at the text. After the elders were commissioned, they received the spirit and prophesied. That was all well and good, and expected. But what happens next is that there were two men, who were not in the assembly, who showed signs of having the spirit placed upon them. They, too, prophesied. This was disturbing, for these were not ones who were supposed to be doing this. A runner (a 14th Century BC tattle-tale) was sent to Moses saying, Eldad and Medad are prophesying in camp. Joshua was ready to have them stopped but it didn’t bother Moses. “Let them be,” Moses responded. “Are you jealous for me? Wouldn’t it be nice if all God’s people were prophets?”
Moses shows us what a mature leader comfortable with his relationship with God looks like.
You know, a similar thing happened in the ministry of Jesus. The disciples learned that there were others casting out demons using the name of Jesus. Some of the disciples, like Joshua, was ready to defend Jesus’ power and honor and put an end to the practice. But Jesus said, “No, don’t do that. If they’re using my name, they be for us and not against us.”[1] Mature leadership provides a calming presence and rejoices when others do well.
What can we take from this passage? How might it apply to our topic of growth? There are two things that come to mind. First of all, as we see in the story of the Exodus, we have to take the risk to follow and to trust God. It can be scary at times, but if we are willing to take that risk, God will protect and watch over us. Faith isn’t about certainty; if it was, it wouldn’t be faith. Faith is about trust. Do we trust God enough to take a risk that will allow God to show us that he’s with us? When God’s church grapples at what its future might be, those who are willing to take a risk are the ones rewarded. It’s easy to sit back and do nothing, but that’s not the type of followers Jesus calls. As the Session of this church works on our strategic plan for the future (and this is a process), I hope you will be open to new directions. God calls us to risk in faith, not for our glory, but for God’s. Are we up for taking risks? We can’t keep doing the same thing that might have worked for us 30 or 40 years ago. Times change and new strategies are required. We are called to be people of faith and we must live into our calling.
Secondly, we learn in this passage that we’re not in control and we need to let God’s Spirit work. Those who were upset with Eldad and Medad show a human tendency to have preconceived ideas of what it looks like when God shows up. We have to be ready for surprises, for God’s ideas may be different from ours. God has this incredible love for all people, not just those who look, think and act like us. We might be surprised what God is doing in our midst and it might make us uncomfortable. Someone might come up with a new idea that we’ve never tried before, or that was half-heartedly tried years ago. Is our first reaction to immediately reject it? Or are we willing to see if God’s Spirit’s is leading us in a different direction? The truth of Jesus Christ never changes, but how we live out that truth within a changing culture will be different.
Remember, it’s not about us. We’re called to have faith, to trust, and to follow Jesus as we move through the “Land Between.” And if we have faith, we will experience growth in our own lives and within the community. We might not know what that growth really looks like until afterwards, but when we are there, we will know that God has been with us. Amen.
©2019
[1] Mark 9:38-39, Luke 9:49-50.
Early December harvest: cauliflower, cabbage, lettuce, kale, chili peppers (hanging on from summer) and turnips
I am loving my winter garden. It is the only advantage of living where there is no real winter. In the fall, I planted cabbage (red and green), cauliflower, brussel sprouts, kale, swiss chard, mustard greens, three kinds of lettuce, beets, onions, rutabaga, and turnips. The brussel spouts didn’t do very well, and only a few of the beets came up, but everything else has been wonderful. I’ve enjoyed roasted root vegetables (turnips, beets and rutabaga), lots of cauliflower dishes, salads, various dishes with mustard and swiss chard, and my favorite, turnips. I have grown even fonder of turnips. I eat them raw. I will grate them and sauté with just a pinch of sugar, or prepare them like mash potatoes. Turnips are also my favorite greens. After washing the greens to get any dirt off, I will boil them in a large pot of water with some ham or bacon added for an hour or so. Then, about 30 minutes before eating, I will add some of the turnip root that I’ve peeled and diced to the greens, bringing it back to a boil and cooking until the root is soft. I’ll dip out and drain off the greens and root, place it on a plate and drizzle the greens with some hot vinegar (vinegar infused with chili peppers). That’s good eating!
Turnips destined for the pot (waiting to be cleaned)
The turmeric is in the front. This was taken in early November as the winter garden is being planted.
Some of you have followed this on Facebook, but I thought I would compile the process here.
What started with a neighboring farmer offering a couple of turmeric rhizomes (the tubers from which spice is harvested and which also grows new plants) ended up last weekend with enough dried turmeric for a year or so (8 ounces).
Turmeric takes a while to grow. Last March we were given to rhizomes which were planted at the edge of our garden plot. The soil must have been good (the plant likes soil with lots of manure) for the plants grew and by early summer were a foot high. Turmeric takes ten months to grow as the growth isn’t about the leaves above ground but the rhizomes below. In mid-January, the plant above was turning brown, so I dug up the ground under it and found a nice harvest of rhizomes. For the next few weeks, I was adding fresh grated turmeric to everything, especially eggs. But I knew the turmeric wouldn’t last long, so I saved a few rhizomes for planting and the rest I prepared for making turmeric powder.
Boiling rhizomes
After reading up on drying turmeric, I found that most suggested the rhizomes to be cleansed and brushed thoroughly to get off all dirt (and manure) off the tubers. Then, they are placed in a pot with just enough water to cover the rhizomes and boiled for 30 minutes. Once done, they are taken out and sliced thinly (they are not pealed). Then they are dried. As we have been having a wet and humid winter, I opted to dry them in the over for several hours at 175 degrees. Afterwards, the sliced and dried rhizomes are frozen solidly (most say to freeze overnight, but I froze them for a longer period because I was waiting for a time to finish processing the turmeric. The freezing helps make the grinding easier.
Rhizomes ready to dry
Grinding into powder
When ready to grind, you can use a food processor or a coffee grinder. I tried both. It takes a long time of constantly pulsing either one to turn the chips into powder. This process also tends to stain your food processor, but in the end you have nice powder that I stored in two 4 ounce mason jars. Turmeric can be stored for years if sealed and stored in a dark place.
Final product
After this adventure, I’m thinking about raising ginger, too. At least this turmeric is not corrupted from bad soil or added with things like lead (which has been known to be added to the dangerous for the consumer). Some of the spice that comes from India is known to be corrupted.
Next year, maybe I’ll try to grow ginger, too, as it is in the same family. .
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
Numbers 11:31-35
February 10, 2019
We are on our fourth week of looking at the Hebrew people in the wilderness. We have seen how they have complained about the food, how they have driven Moses almost mad, and how God has provided for their needs. This week, we’re going to look at a case of tough love. Yes, Israel’s going to have the meat they’ve demanded, but along with their bellies being full, God is going to punish them for their disobedience and lack of trust. We learn that we have to be careful for what we want. As Sheryl Crow sings in her song, “Soak Up the Sun:” It’s not having what you want. It’s wanting what you’ve got.[1] I’m sure the Hebrew people didn’t want what they got. Read Numbers 11:31-35.
Robert Ruark began quail hunting with his granddad at the age of eight. The opening story in his wonderful book, The Old Man and the Boy, is about a quail hunt. To the chagrin of his mother and grandmother, his grandfather, “the Old Man,” brought him a 20 gauge shotgun. They headed out into a pea field with two dogs. Quickly, the dogs were pointing and the Old Man gave him a shell and told him to load up. He broke open the barrel, slipped the shell into the breech, and snapped it closed. Then as his pulled the gun up to hold at a forty-five degree angle across his chest, to be ready for when the birds flushed, he quietly slipped the safety off and stepped toward the dogs.
“Whoa, Give me the gun,” the Old Man demanded.
Shocked and a bit hurt, the young Robert Ruark handed his gun to his granddad, who set the safety, then headed out to the dogs. As the covey flushed, he shot a bird. When he came back, the boy yelled, “Why’d you take the gun away from me? It’s my gun. It ain’t your gun.”
At this point the Old Man gave the boy a lecture. “Safety catch,’ he said.” The boy didn’t think his granddad had heard or saw him slip off the safety. The Old Man continued: “No reason in the world for a man to go blundering around with the catch off his gun. You don’t know the birds are going to get up where the dogs says they are. Maybe they’re running on you. So the dog breaks point and you stumble along behind him and fall in a hole or trip over a rock and the gun goes off…’”
Feeling bad, the boy said: “You got to take the safety off some time if you’re planning to shoot something.”
“’Habit is a wonderful thing’, the Old Man said. ‘It’s just as easy to form good ones as to make bad ones. Once they’re made, they stick.’” The Old Man continued, as he taught the boy how the safety stays engaged until he brings the gun to his shoulder as he follows the bird in flight.[2]
I wonder what the Old Man would have thought about the way the Israelites hunted quail. He probably wouldn’t care for it, but I expect he would understand God’s intention of teaching the Hebrew people some good habits such as placing their trust in the Lord. The land between is a good place to learn good habits.
The Hebrew people wanted meat in their diet and in this text we see that they got what they wanted. We’re told that a wind blew the quail into the Hebrew camp. Quail often migrate through the Sinai in the spring and fall. So, perhaps as these birds were transient, God blew up a storm and blew them toward the place where Israel was encamped.[3] And it’s not just a few birds. With quail, in which each bird produces about 5 ounces of delicious meat, you’ll need a lot of birds to feed so many people. But Israel gets more than a lot. The least anyone collects is ten homers. A homer is supposedly about 6 bushels, so each person has a truckload of birds. This is an absurd amount. I’m sure that soon there were fires going and birds grilling as the rest were being dressed out to dry and to store for later.
It’s almost as if God decides to overwhelm the Hebrew people with quail as a way to show them his power. They should have been thankful that the birds were quail and not ravens. Had it been the later, Alfred Hitchcock’s movie, “The Birds,” would could have been Biblical. But instead of the birds attacking, they are easily caught by the Israelites.
It’s as if God is asking, “You think I can’t take care of you?” “Let me show you.” But that’s just part of God’s response for there is divine anger brewing because of the people’s lack of trust. (See, those quail could have been ravens). As the people dress out the quail, eat their fill, and begin to pick the meat from between their teeth, God’s anger rises and a plague descends upon the people. Did the quail contain some pestilence? We’re not told, nor are we told how many died, but enough died that they named their encampment in remembrance of those who “had the craving.” And they quickly moved on to another camp. We’re left wondering if they took the drying quail with them or if they left them in the sun to dry and for the creatures of the desert to devour.
This is just one of God’s punishments of Israel in the wilderness we find in the Book of Numbers. A few chapters later, the people will revolt and suffer the consequences.[4] And later in the book, they’ll complain again against God and snakes will come after them.[5] The Book of Numbers provides lots of ideas for a horror flick. But what do we see? Over and over again, God cares for the people, yet they do not trust the Lord to look out for their well-being. Over and over again, the people are disciplined.
I’ve been reading Eugene Peterson’s collection of sermons on Jeremiah, a prophet at a time when Israel was again facing some discipline. We don’t like the idea of discipline or judgment, do we? But it’s a frequent topic in scripture, probably because we (as humans) are so hard headed. Listen to what Peterson says about the topic:
Judgment is not the last word; it is never the last word. Judgment is necessary because of centuries of hardheartedness; its proper work is to open our hearts to the reality beyond ourselves, to crack the carapace of self-sufficiency so that we can experience the inrushing grace of the healing, merciful, forgiving God.[6]
Scripture discusses judgment and discipline a lot. Some of you may think there’s too much judgment and discipline in Bible, but as Jeff Manion reminds us in his book, The Land Between, we have an advantage. As Paul wrote to Timothy, “Scripture is useful in building us up,” and if we allow Scripture to work in such a manner, we can learn from the mistakes of others.[7] That’s a benefit to cherish.
Yesterday afternoon I was sailing in a race. There was J-105, a much larger and faster boat than any of the rest of us. This boat set the mark. We were coming back up the river, against the tide, which is a time that you try to keep your boat out of the current as much as possible. One way to do this is to hug the side of the channel where the current is less. But there’s the risk of running aground. We watched that J-105, knowing that its keel was much deeper than ours. If it had problems with shoals and ran aground (which would have been the only way we could have caught it), we would know to steer clear. Scripture is like that, we get to see the mistakes of the Israelites and the early disciples, and can steer clear of them. We can learn from their discipline!
There are many Proverbs that speak of the need for discipline.[8] We have all heard the saying, “Spare the rod, spoil the child,” and assume it is from the Bible. We’ll, not exactly. However, there are many Proverbs that do speak of the need for discipline, the one that comes closest to such a saying is Proverbs 13:24, which speaks of those who refuse to discipline their children, hate them. Paradoxically linking permissiveness and hatred is an attempt to drive home the message that discipline is required.[9] Corporal punishment isn’t necessarily required and certainly punishment that borders on abuse is condemned.[10] Discipline may be unpleasant, but if we are not taught what is right and wrong, how are we to know?
This Wednesday issue of the Wall Street Journal had an article by Robert Hamilton, a pediatrician in Santa Monica, titled “The Right Way to Spank a Child.” While he was careful to differentiate spanking from abuse, as he was writing against a recent ruling from the American Academy of Pediatrics that had expressed its opposition to all forms of corporal punishment, he made the case for mild spankings. This would be spankings that strings but doesn’t come anywhere near injuring the child. He set ground rules that I’m sure many of our parents didn’t abide by, such as only a two or three whacks, done privately so as not to humiliate the child, and administrated as soon as possible after the offense. The main thrust of his column wasn’t to defend spanking as much as it was to emphasize the necessity of effective discipline in raising children to be responsible adults.[11]
In the land between, we see that God, our Heavenly Father, disciplines his people in order for them to grow into a nation. When we are disciplined by God, we need to remember that God is loving us. God is correcting our behavior so that we might grow in our love and trust of him. Sometimes discipline is hard. I don’t know why so many people had to get sick and some of them had to die. But the God who gives us the breath of life can also take it away. But as we see, God wants his people to trust him as they are led through the desert and into the Promised Land. It’s an important lesson, for if they don’t trust him, the people will be lost. And that goes for us, too. If we don’t trust God, we are lost. Trust God; accept his discipline as a sign of love. God wants something better from us and for us. Amen.
After note: After preaching this sermon yesterday, I attended a sail club potluck dinner last night where Mike, one of the members of the group, brought quail! There were a few there who had heard my sermon and thought it was funny.
Mike’s quail
©2019
[1] Sheryl Crow, “Soak Up the Sun” (2002)
[2] Robert Ruark, The Old Man and the Boy (1993, New York: Henry Holt and Company, 1957), 11-12.
[3] Philip J. Budd, Numbers: Word Biblical Commentary #5 (Waco, TX: Word, 1984), 129.
[4] Numbers 16.
[5] Numbers 21.
[6] Eugene Peterson, Run with the Horses: The Quest for Life at Its Best (Downer’s Grove, IL: Intervarsity Press, 1983), 173.
[7] 2 Timothy 3:16-17 and Jeff Manion, The Land Between: Finding God in Difficult Transitions (Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan, 2010), 133.
[8] Proverbs 19:18, 23:13-14, 29:17.
[9] Richard J. Clifford, Proverbs: Old Testament Library (Louisville, KY: Westminster, 1999), 140.
[10] Exodus 21:20. See also https://www.crosswalk.com/faith/bible-study/what-does-spare-the-rod-spoil-the-child-mean.html
[11] Robert C. Hamilton, “The Right Way to Spank a Child,” Wall Street Journal (February 6, 2019), A15.
Ron Chernow, Grant (New York: Penguin, 2017), 1074 pages including bibliography, an index, and 16 pages of black and white photos.
U. S. Grant is an amazing story. Even how he came upon his name (which was latter joked to be Unconditional Surrender Grant) is an interesting story. At the dawn of the Civil War, Grant was broke, having failed in several business attempts. He had been dismissed from the army due to his drinking problems. Eight years later, after having led the Union forces to victory, Grant is the President of the United States. In this massive biography, Ron Chernow tells Grant’s story. Chernow challenges many of the presuppositions that are often held about Grant such as his military achievement was due to his superior numbers and that he, like his presidency, was corrupt. While acknowledging the truth of the Union superiority in numbers and the corruption of his administration, Chernow believes that Grant was a superior officer and he, himself, wasn’t corrupt. Grant’s greatest fault, according to Chernow, was his loyalty to friends. It appears Grant best action and clearest head was in the chaos of battle. In his private life he often overlooked the faults of his friends and was too trusting. In battle, he had no problems removing ineffective commanders.
Grant is certainly a study in complexity. His father was overbearing, a successful businessman, and a strong abolitionist. His wife, Julia, came from a Southern Planter family and his father-in-law remained an unrepentant Southern even as he lived in the White House during Grant’s presidency. The two families hated each other. His father, who was critical of his son’s failures before the war, was proud of his son during the war even while he attempted to use his son for economic gain. His father, in business with two Jewish merchants, sought to benefit from Grant’s position in the western theater in order to acquire cotton. Grant became so mad that he banned all Jewish merchants from the army’s camp (a ban that was later rescinded). Grant would have to deal with embarrassments from his family for much of his life.
Grant was a graduate of West Point and served in the Mexican War (and later admitted that he felt the war was unjust). After the war, he served in California and Washington Territory, before coming back East as a civilian. At the beginning of the Civil War, he volunteered as an officer and joined in Ohio.
Grant rose to prominence following his wins in the Western theater of the campaign (where he became close to Sherman), he didn’t meet Lincoln until he was being made the General of the Army. In this position, Grant was able to coordinate the movements of all the armies of the North with a goal of not defeating the South on the battlefield, but of defeating the Confederacy. While much of the war had been fought with armies working independently, Grant, in 1864, coordinated the attacks on all fronts, a strategy that kept the South from shuffling troops from one front to the other and led to the end of the war.
Grant knew many within the leadership of the Confederacy. He had been a good friend of James Longstreet since their time at West Point and after the war, the two continued their friendship. He had met Lee in Mexico, but unlike other Union generals wasn’t intimated by him. Grant’s strategy was to always keep pushing. Even if he lost a battle, he would quickly regroup and attack again, before his enemy was able to rebuild his troops. Often, in battles such as Shiloh, the first day was lost but because of continuing the attack instead of withdrawing from the field, victory (or at least reaching objectives, which he saw as more important) were achieved on the second day. During the war, Grant despised the guerrilla tactics of John Singleton Mosby, but after the war he, too, became friend and supporter. Mosby would later become the United States ambassador to Thailand. Grant and Lee had only one additional meeting after the war. Lee called on Grant about a railroad project and didn’t laugh when Grant suggested the two of them had done enough destroying of railroads for them to become builders. While Grant wasn’t intimidated by Lee, neither is Chernow, who challenges a lot of presumptions held about the Southern General.
I found many interesting insights into this book. One was how Lincoln feared that Grant might decide to run for the presidency in 1864, something Grant denied. In many ways, he was a humble man. But he was married to a former Southern Belle, who delighted in the spotlight. I was also amazed that after Hayes’ presidency, who had announced early on that he would only serve one term, Grant considered (and other pushed him) to return to the White House. But his attempt at a comeback failed when the Republicans chose Garfield.
While Grant’s presidency had its corruption, which Chernow deals with, I felt he tended to sweep allegations of Grant being beholding to business leaders (many of whom had given him homes and money) under the table. Chernow paints a picture of the President who was concerned about Reconstruction and the danger of losing that which so many men had given their lives. He was very concern about the way the “old south” was rising through the Ku Klux Klan. As a General, Grant found that black soldiers were just as good as white soldiers. It bothered him when he learned of former black soldiers being lynched in the South, yet he was also concerned about overusing force. Interestingly, Sherman, who was seen as less generous than Grant as he swept across Georgia and South Carolina during the war, took the side of the South after the war. Sherman suggested leaving states to work out their own laws. Grant knew that such a tactic would end up with a South in which African-Americans would be no better off than before the war and saw the government had a role to play in reducing violence.
It was interesting to learn how Grant had his eyes on the United States acquiring Santa Domingo (today’s the Dominican Republic). He was also ready to go to war with Mexico, if necessary, to force the French out. Others in his cabinet had eyes on Cuba and it was even suggested that Great Britain give the United States Canada as payment from the damages of the British built Confederate ship, Alabama.
After his second term, Grant became the first American president to make a round-the-world trip. It started out as a rest in Europe, but ended up being a diplomatic mission as Grant visited Egypt, India, Thailand, China and Japan. Coming back to the United States, Grant saw what financial security he had to evaporate overnight in a Ponzi scheme. Friends stepped in which allowed him to have a house in which to live. Mark Twain, who had befriended Grant, worked with him to write a biography. Grant, suffering from throat cancer, finished the book right before his death. Twain, who published the book, was able to present Julia with the books royalties of nearly half a million dollars, making it one of the most successful books of the 19th Century.
Chernow deals with Grant’s drinking, suggesting that during the war he generally refrained from drinking in front of his troops (his drunken accounts were when he was away from the front). Grant had aides and a wife who worked hard to keep him from drinking. It appears Grant was mainly a binge drinker. As long as he avoided alcohol, he was okay, but once he started drinking he continued until he was extremely drunk.
This is a well-researched study. Some may suggest that Chernow, in challenging many of the Grant myths, is playing in revisionist history. But it’s important to remember that many of the Grant myths that rose in the 19th Century at a time when the United States wanted to move beyond reconstruction. At this time, revisionist histories such as the “Lost Cause” movement became popular and united “white” America behind myths such as benevolent masters and the states’ rights.
If you have time, I recommend this book. I listened to this book on audible (48 hours long—that’s a lot of time in the gym), but also read sections of the book at the same time.
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
Numbers 11:16-20
February 3, 2019
We are currently working our way through the 11th chapter of the book of Numbers. Some may wonder, “why Numbers?” After all, it’s an obscure book in the Old Testament, filled with whinny, self-centered people. What could Numbers have to do with us? Well, we’re not much different. We complain, we whine, we focus on our wants and desires, as we struggle trusting God…
In this chapter of Numbers, the Hebrew people are in a crisis. They are in the land between, a hostile place between their former lives as slaves in Egypt and their promised future in the land of milk and honey. But they haven’t yet arrived and, in this in-between land, God forges them into a nation. They learn about temptations. In the last two weeks, we saw how it’s easy to be greedy and to complain in this land. The people’s complaints demonstrate their lack of trust in God. Moses, caught in his own land between, is being pulled apart by a grumbling people who want him to do their bidding and a God who expects him to lead the people. Although Moses also complains, he takes his complaints to God. “Believers argue with God,” I quoted last week, “skeptics argue with one another.”[1] Be a believer!
Today, we’re going to see how God answers both the complaints of the people and the honest prayer of Moses. Read Numbers 11:16-20. 
The foundation of the Boy Scout movement is the patrol method. The purpose of the scouting program is to develop and build leadership. Each troop has layers of boy leaders, from scribes and quartermasters, to patrol leaders and assistants, up to the senior patrol leader. Of course, there are also adult leaders who monitor the program, but successful adult leaders don’t get overly involved. They let the boys make decisions and mistakes. They don’t step in to stop such mistakes unless it’s too dangerous or carries too great a consequence. The boys learn, even from their mistakes.
My first patrol leader was Gerald. He always seemed so mature even though he was probably 14 when I was 11. It rained on our first camping trip. That night Gerald gave his tent to two boys whose tent was flooded. Gerald said he would sleep in their tent. “Wow, this guy cares about us,” we thought. Of course, he was partly guilty for he suggested our tents to be lined up in a straight line and equal distance from one another. This one tent happened to be in a low spot. The next morning, Gerald was up early, helping build a fire. He was full of energy for one who had slept in a wet tent. We later learned he slept in the scout trailer which was even drier the rest of the tents.
Several of us in this group went on to become patrol leaders and, having learned such unselfish values from Gerald, we also strove to be responsible leaders who took care of the members of our patrol. We’d made out duty assignments so each member took turns cooking, cleaning and bringing in the firewood. Those were good days and they remain as good memories.
In our text today, we see God answering Moses’ pleas for help. God consecrates leading men of Israel. They’ll serve essentially as patrol leaders. Moses, with only his brother Aaron to help, has become weary by attempting to take care of everyone’s needs. Moses is like a scoutmaster without patrol leaders or an army general with no junior officers and no NCOs to implement the plan. To address Moses’ weariness, God has Moses pick seventy leaders from among the people and then takes some of the Spirit that was on Moses and gives it to those seventy. A new generation of leadership is established. This is the way the scouting program works. Those in leadership positions are constantly training new ones as younger scouts slowly take on the responsibility of the troop. And it’s the way the church is to work. As new leaders are elected, they are ordained by the church with the older leaders laying their hands on the new as a sign of ordination.
Moses, in the text, sees that his concerns are being address. He faithfully cried out to God, trusting God’s goodness and mercy. He now will not have to carry the burden of all Israel on his shoulders. Many shoulders make a light load!
The people who have been complaining will also experience God’s answer to their prayer. Moses is to have them to get ready. They’re going to be eating meat! Of course, because they haven’t trusted God, they’ll eat so much meat they will get sick of it. It’ll be coming out of their nostrils, which isn’t a very pleasing picture. They had thought God had brought them into the wilderness in order that they might die, but now they’ll once again experience God’s power. God is able to answer their prayers and, in this case, will answer it in a way that they’ll wish God hadn’t.
You know, it’s amazing I still love peanut butter. One day, when I was in the second or third grade, I was hungry after the academic rigors of the classroom. I came home from school and went into the kitchen in search of nourishment. I spotted a large jar of peanut butter, a three pounder. It’d just been open. It was full. Seeing no one around, I unscrewed the lid and dug out a finger-full. I licked it off my finger. It was so good! Then went for another scoop. I bet none of the Scouts have every done this, have you? About the point that I had dug out a second finger full of peanut butter, my mom walked into the kitchen and yelled a few chosen words that I had not known were in her vocabulary.
Now, my mom could have been proud of me for not bothering her with a basic need, such as food, and taking matters into my own hands. But that’s not the way she operated. Sanitation was akin to godliness in our house. Seeing my finger covered with peanut butter, she grabbed the jar and yanked it from my hand. “What do thing you’re doing?” she asked. Without giving me time to respond, my mom went from police officer to the judge (forget the Constitution, under my parent’s roof, the enforcement and judicial branches of government were intertwined). I was sentenced to hard time. For the next month or so, before I could eat whatever was being served, I had to eat a peanut butter sandwich. No jelly, just peanut butter on a slice of bread, until that jar was empty. Remember, this was a large jar, and it was now mine. I had to eat it all. Before Thanksgiving dinner with turkey and dressing and all the trimmings, I had a plain peanut butter sandwich. Before Christmas dinner with a ham and sweet potatoes, I ate a peanut butter sandwich. By New Years, it seemed as if the stuff was coming out of my nose. I felt a special kindship to the Hebrew children in the wilderness. And I’ve never stuck my finger into a jar of peanut butter again.
In the wilderness, God provides for the people. Leaders are provided who could take the burden off Moses. Food is provided to nourish the Hebrew people. But because the people do not trust God. They are punished, which went even further than being sick of the food, as we’ll see next week. By the way, that’s a teaser for what’s coming next.
God has what’s best for us in mind. Sometimes, what is best is nourishment. Other times, discipline is required. In the land between, both are necessary. What about us? Are we willing to trust God to provide? Are we willing to trust those whom God has called to lead us? And are we willing to learn from discipline?
When we are in the land between, there are plenty of opportunities to experience and learn from God’s graciousness. This is true for our scouts and all the rest of us, for we are in the land between, often, throughout our lives. We are all on a journey to a promised land, to the promised kingdom, to the heavenly banquet. And along the way, we should learn what we can. Amen.
©2019
[1] Eugene H. Peterson, Run with the Horses: The Quest for Life at Its Best (Downer’s Grove, IL: Intervasity Press, 1983), 103.
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
Numbers 11:10-15
January 27, 2019
This is our second week exploring the “land between,” that place where we find ourselves between a rock and a hard place. When we are in the land between, it is easy to become exhausted and disheartened. We feel like we cannot go on. We want to give up. But we must remember that God might be preparing us for something. In the wilderness, Israel was trained to trust, to have faith in God, in preparation for becoming a country. In our own journeys, we should ask God what we should learn. Read Numbers 11:10-15
###
Last week, we saw how the “land between” was a dangerous place. Not only are there the obvious ones. For the Hebrews in the wilderness, such dangers included thirsting, starving, or dying by snake bite. For us, the dangers may be an illness, financial ruin, the loss of a relationship, the death of a loved one. These journeys are stressful. Israel had been called into this place by God, who is trying to teach her to trust him. But what if God doesn’t show up one day? What if God doesn’t provide? Of course, because God has called them into the wilderness, they should trust the Lord. So for two years, they have been trusting God for daily food and during this time, God has not failed them. This leads to the second danger, which we saw last week, which occurs in the land between: complaint. Instead of being grateful, the Israelites become greedy. They bicker and grumble about the quality of food. Such complaints fires up God’s anger, forcing Moses to intercede.[1]
This week, our text focuses on Moses. He’s the leader of these bickering people. Moses is in his own “land between.” He’s caught in the middle. God is on one side and an ungrateful people on the other. It’s a lonely place. All those complaints are getting to him. He can’t please the people. God wants him to be the leader and the people just want him to do their bidding. He’s God’s servant, but the people are looking at Moses as if he’s their errand boy. 1400 years later, Jesus will remind us that we can’t serve two masters.[2] Moses is a living example of this truth. As a result, he has a meltdown.
In the first class I lead on the book this series is based upon, The Land Between (and I encourage you all to get involved in such a class), the conversation veered into the topic of suicide. The land between is certainly a place where such action may occur. It’s an uncomfortable place. If you reside there too long, despair sets in. One loses hope. One loses perspective. We saw last week how the people suddenly forgot their struggles and cries in Egypt and remembered only the food they enjoyed there—food that was only given to them so that they would have the energy to do the work their Egyptian taskmasters set before them. It’s easy to forget how things really were.
While we are not told that Moses contemplated suicide, we do witness in today’s text that he’s ready to die. He has certainly thought about death. It seems more desirable than continuing to live in the desert where life is hard enough, but is made unbearable by a bunch of whiners. Death seems better than to live in the middle and be pulled into two different directions at the same time. Moses has had enough. I like how The Message translation handles Moses’ complaint to God:
Why are you treating me this way?
What did I ever do to you to deserve this?
Did I conceive them? Was I their mother?
Why dump the responsibility of these people on me?
Questions after questions, Moses asks God. Moses ends his complaint in this manner: “If this is how you intend to treat me, do me a favor and kill me. I’ve seen enough. I’ve had enough. Let me out of here.” Leadership is often hard, as Moses experiences. You can’t please everyone. Many people are going to second guess you. Most think they know better than you. People will bicker and complain behind your back. You know what, things haven’t changed much in 3400 years.
In addition to leadership being hard, often leadership is thrust upon people. Moses never asked to lead Israel out of Egypt. If you remember, he begged God to find someone else. He came up with all kind of excuses. “Lord, they’re not going to believe me.”[3] “God, you want me to address Pharaoh? I don’t talk good.”[4] Often times we are called to step into leadership positions in the church or at work or in our community. And even if it isn’t something we covet, as ones who follow Jesus, we are to do our best and to be honest and ultimately, be faithful to our Lord. And sometimes, just being faithful means we get caught in the land between. Think of prophets like Jeremiah and Ezekiel and the Apostle Paul.
Last week, we saw how God responded to the people. God was ready to incinerate them. Next week, we’ll see how God responded to Moses. But before we learn of God’s response, let’s let it simmer a while. But I assure you the Almighty doesn’t send a lightning to singe Moses and ends his meltdown. God answers, not always immediately, but God hears our prayers and responds.
Let’s ask ourselves this: “if God was ready to incinerate the people, yet responds positively to Moses plea, what’s the difference?” Ponder this: “Why the different response between how God responded to the people and to Moses?” “Why is God ready to be done with the people, yet listens and responds to Moses?”
While you are thinking about this, let me tell you about a bear encounter I had while hiking in the High Sierras. A friend and I was hiking the John Muir Trail. One evening, toward the end of the trail in Yosemite National Park, my friend stayed in camp, while I had hiked about a ½ mile to a place with a lovely overlook to the west. There, I watched an incredible sunset. When it was done, I started to head back to our campsite on Cathedral Lake. Once I got back into the trees, it was fairly dark, but I could make out the trail, so I walked without a flashlight. Then, suddenly, I froze. There was a bear coming at me. It quickly stood up on his back legs, just ten feet or so in front of me. I stood straight and waved my arms, trying to look larger than the bear. It looked at me for a second or two, then turned around, dropped to all fours, and took off through the woods. Of course, I was shaking, but realized I was going to be fine. I had responded properly. When you encounter a large wild animal, especially one that likes to chase and hunt, you don’t turn and run. You can’t outrun the beast and it’ll often delight in the chase. Instead, you hold your ground and then slowly move away, never turning your back on the animal. Had I turned and ran, things might have been different.
Israel, instead of confronting God, was willing to run from the Lord. They wanted to high-tail it back to Egypt. They didn’t want anything to do with the mountain where Moses met God. It was scary, all that fire and smoke.[5] If they couldn’t run from God, they would cowered before him. Now, maybe I am pushing it too far to suggest that God is like a wild animal—like a bear or a cougar—in the wild. Or maybe not, for God is metaphorically referred to in Scripture as a lion,[6] another animal that it’s not recommended humans run from.
Instead of running from God, Moses stands up to God and is very honest. Is this dangerous? Of course. God is the Creator who can give and take away life. But it’s less dangerous to stand up to God than to turn our backs on God or to act like God doesn’t matter. Unlike the people who try to run away, Moses relates to God and that’s what God desires. Even though the people had experienced great miracles, they still doubt God’s ability to intercede. Their complaining betray how they question God’s goodness. Rumors are spreading that God might have brought them out into the desert to die. But Moses is different. He never turns his back on God. He’s like a hiker in the wild who encounters a bear or cougar and holds his ground. And instead of complaining behind God’s back, he takes his complaint directly to the Lord.
Eugene Peterson, writing about how Jeremiah argued with God notes that our anger can be a measure of our faith. “Believers argue with God; skeptics argue with each other,” he writes.[7] Get that? “Believers argue with God; skeptics argue with each other.”
Throughout the Old Testament, one common form of prayer is that of lament. The prophets lamented. Throughout the Psalms, you’ll find laments.[8] In such prayers, and that’s what we have here with Moses, those praying are very honest to God. They confess their challenges. They are not shy about admitting the frustration they feel.
I know when I have been in such places of difficulty, my prayers to God are raw. And God listens. When we are honest about our feelings, God doesn’t get upset with us. God listens. And, as I have often found, if you put your burdens on God’s shoulders, you will feel light enough to get back up and continue on.
Yes, Moses had a meltdown. But God wasn’t mad at him. The next time things seem hopeless, take your burdens to God. Offer up your raw emotions. Don’t try to run and hide. Instead, face your challenges and trust God. Answer Jesus’ invitation to let him take your yoke.[9] He will lighten your load. Amen.
©2019
[1] Numbers 11:1-3.
[2] Matthew 6:24 and Luke 16:13.
[3] Exodus 4:1.
[4] Exodus 4:10-17.
[5] Exodus 19:16.
[6] See Isaiah 31:4, Jeremiah 2:3, 4:7, 5:6, 25:38, 49:19; Hosea 5:14, 11:10, 13:7-8 and especially Revelation 5:5 where Jesus is the “Lion of Judah.” Of course, this is metaphorical as a lion is also used for our enemy as in 1 Peter 5:8 and Revelation 13:2.
[7] Eugene H. Peterson, Run with the Horses: The Quest for Life at Its Best (Downers Grove, IL: Intervarsity Press, 1983), 103.
[8] For more discussion on such laments in Scripture, see Jeff Manion, The Land Between: Finding God in Difficult Transitions (Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan, 2012), chapter 6.
[9] Matthew 11:28-30.
Billy Beasley, The Preacher’s Letter. (Little Elm, TX: eLectio Publishing, 2018), 265 pages
Troy Dawkins is a middle aged kid trying to figure out life. He lives a solidarity life with his dog, Max, working as a bouncer at a bar in Carolina Beach, North Carolina. He’s a man with secrets in his past, who keeps most people an arm’s length away. At the insistence of his mother, he attends church one Sunday where he hears the new minister give a message that he finds disturbing and lacking of grace. While many in the congregation love their new pastor, Troy suspects something is wrong. Writing to the new minister, he receives a reply that is so upsetting to Troy that he barges in to his office and confronts the minister to his face. By the end of the book, the minister is knocked off his pedestal and Troy has a new love interest. And it’s Christmas.
While my short summary of the book may sound corny, as if it could be a script for a Hallmark Christmas movie, Billy Beasley is a talented storyteller. As the story unfolds, we learn more about Troy’s past and how a freak college injury kept him from playing professional baseball. And also we learn about a woman he once loved and the tragedy around her death. We also learn about the angels who look over Troy: David, from a former pastor, and Mabry, his college English professor who owns, with her husband, the bar where Troy works. Tory also befriends Suzanne (or she befriends him), who is the wife of the minister, and Stacey, a rising star in the world of Christian music. Billy weaves everyone’s story into the book, along with some real life places on Carolina Beach such as Britts Donuts (if you ever had one of their donuts, you’ll never forget it) and Snows Cut Bridge. The story is filled with wonderful descriptions of coastal North Carolina.
My main critique of Billy’s story is that the two main characters are presented as good and evil. The preacher, Alan Matthews, appears one-dimensional. He’s almost Puritanical in his lifestyle, although we learn late in the book that things are not always as they seem. Alan has an over-sized ego that craves the spotlight. He wants to be seen as right. He likes his high salary. We get a hint that Matthews wasn’t always this way, from conversations he has with his wife, but at the time this story occurs, he appears to be uncaring and sinister. Standing opposite to the minister is Troy. While there are more dimensions to his character, he comes across as almost always doing the right thing. He mostly responds in a manner that is well thought out and considerate of others, traits that serve him well as a bouncer. While Troy is a likable character, few people are so good nor are few as sinister as Alan. Most of us live our lives somewhere between the two extremes.
This work of fiction addresses the trough question of what the church is to be about. Matthew’s puritanical views on sex and alcohol are contrasted with those of the former pastor, David, who lifts up a vision of a loving community caring for people. Readers who have suffered from the hands of churches that seem more concerned on behavior and appearances instead of loving and accepting people will find much hope in this book. Of course, on the opposite end, those who argue for the church to maintain strict purity standards may find their position challenged.
As a disclaimer, I have known Billy Beasley since the fourth grade. This is his second book and I have enjoyed both of them.
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
Numbers 11:1-9
January 20, 2019
As we worship in his beautiful sanctuary on a mild, yet wet and windy winter day, we should acknowledge and be thankful. Not everyone gathering for worship this morning are enjoying these conditions. In Pakistan and other countries, Christians gather in fear.[1] Yesterday, in Alabama, a Presbyterian Church built in 1858 was destroyed by a tornado.[2] And in much of our country, Christians are gathering in less than ideal circumstances as blizzards roam across much of our nation. Preparing for worship in such a setting, Linda Olin rewrote a version of the Doxology for this morning. It goes:
Praise God from whom all blizzards blow, Alleluia!
When snow comes down and cold winds blow! Alleluia!
Praise God for shovels, gloves, and plows,
When four-foot drifts surround your house!
If more snow falls, Praise for snowballs.
Alleluia! Alleluia! Alleluia! [3]
I have no idea who Linda Olin is, but I applaud her effort to make the best of a difficult situation. When we find ourselves in situations beyond our control, we need to fight against the tendency to complain and learn to count our blessings, even if such blessings are only gloves, shovels and snowballs.
Starting today and for the next five sermons, I am going to preach from the 11th Chapter of the Book of Numbers. The Hebrew people are in the wilderness, but unlike Ms. Olin, they’re not counting their blessings. They’ve been eating manna for nearly two years now, and are sick of it. In Exodus, we find the people complaining about a lack of good water. God provides a way to purify it. Later they complain of the lack of any water and God provides a pouring spigot from a rock.[4] Let’s face it. Those were legitimate complaints. Without water, we die. But now, we hear that the Hebrew people are complaining about a bland diet. And yet, remember, Jesus tells us to pray for our daily bread.[5] In other words, if we have enough to get by, we should be thankful even if we are working for something better.
As illustrations for this series, I’m using some photos I took on a trip into Central Utah with a friend of mine, the late Ralph Behrens. I told you more about one of these photos in my e-news yesterday—if you don’t receive that newsletter and would like to, see me.[6]
Ralph grew up in Goler Gulch in the Mojave Desert. He escaped that hard-scrabble life thanks to the Army Air Corp, spending the final few weeks of the Second World War in the Pacific. Afterwards, on the GI Bill, he earned a chemistry degree, but having grown in a mining camp, he remained interested in the industry. Because of this, he took a special interest in my dissertation on role of the church in the Nevada mining camps.
Ralph and I would often travel out into the desert looking at old camps. On these long drives, he would tell stories of growing up in such a place. One of the stories he told was when his father would go to work at the mine, he always said he was going to “Make Beans.” And that was it. He made enough money to buy beans for dinner, which was most of their diet during those hard years of the Great Depression. Few of us have that kind of hardship or exist on such a bland diet. If we have, I’m sure we’d be complaining, as we will see that the Hebrew people did when they were in the wilderness. Let’s look at this text. Read Numbers 11:1-9.
I was reading a novel on a flight from Boise to Chicago back in 1990. It was an early flight and arrived mid-morning in the windy city, a city that lived up to its name that day. As we began the approach, the pilot came on told the attendants to quickly prepare the cabin and to take their seats as it was going to be a rough. It was. The plane bounced all around as we came into a landing. Why he decided to attempt the landing was beside me for on the ground the wind was blowing like crazy and tarps were flying across the runways as ground crews tried to protect luggage. We stepped off the plane with water flowing through the gap between the plane’s body and the walkway.
When I arrived inside the terminal, I headed off into the direction for my flight to Pittsburgh. I had plenty of time, so when I came upon a bar with a hundred people or so crowded around it, as if it was happy hour, I decided to check it out. It was only 10:30 in the morning, so I was pretty sure it wasn’t a happy hour special. Instead, everyone was glued to the monitors above the bar, tuned to a local TV news.
That morning, tornadoes were ripping through the western suburbs of the city, not far from the airport. I felt blessed to be on the ground, and again wondered why the pilot tried to land. Ours was one of the last flights to touch down before they closed the airport. With only a book in hand (this was before the airlines nickeled-and-dimed you over luggage so I had checked everything), I made my way to the gate where I would spend the next 18 hours. Of course, I didn’t know I’d be stranded so long. Had I known, I would have had a few more books.
We have all been there, haven’t we? Maybe not out in the desert eating only beans or manna, or in an airport with just one book to read, but we have all been in situations where we had to wait, where we just spend time in boredom. We wait, hoping for a better future, a better diet, a quicker flight, a new job (or a better one or maybe just any job), or long for healing, or to get over grief.
Waiting is hard. And when there is no variety, it becomes boring. We start to complain. It’s natural to complain, or is it? Let’s look at today’s text.
It’s been two years since the Lord led Israel out of Egyptian slavery. They left Egypt with a vision of this new land promised to Abraham, a good land flowing with milk and honey. But instead of taking the direct way, up the coast line, the Way of the Sea, and on into the land of Canaan, God has Moses take a right hand turn that leads into the rugged and inhospitable wilderness of Sinai. Why would God do that? Of course, God provided for them. Manna every morning, more than enough to sustain their fill.
But people are weary. They are tired of a life in the wilderness. They are tired of a bland diet. They begin to bicker and complain, so much so that God becomes enraged and his anger is kindled and fire burns toward the people. Panicking, they cry to Moses. Moses prays, and the fire are extinguished.
In verse four, we are told that that rabble had strong cravings. The word rabble is interesting. This is the only place it occurs in scripture and it appears imply not only a group of people, but a mob-like group led by their “sensual appetites”[7] This group’s “cravings” drive their behavior. They think back to all the good foods they enjoyed in Egypt: the fish, vegetables, and spices. Now they have just manna.[8]
In the Book of Exodus, we’re also told more about manna, the collecting and gathering of this substance. The word manna means, “What is it?” Both books tell us it tasted like coriander seed.[9] Many of us have coriander in our pantries. It’s a wonderful spice to use in breads and stews, but only in moderation. Have you ever tasted it? Coriander comes from the seed of cilantro, another wonderful spice. The seeds are ground up. A recipe might call for a teaspoon of the spice, or maybe a little if you’re preparing an Indian recipe. It’s kind of bitter. I can’t imagine eating bread where the ground seed of cilantro replaces the flour. If you have an interest in seeing what coriander tastes like, I have some in this mortar that I’ll place on the communion table. After the service, if you are curious, you can take a spoon and put a pinch of the powder in your hand and try it.
It sounds like I justified Israel’s anger over their diet, doesn’t it? Certainly, it is not anything we would want to endure, right? But the point is that at some time or another in our lives and in our Christian journey, we’re going to be in the Land Between. We are going to be at the point in which all seems old and bland and that all there is to do is to wait. At such a time, we’re going to think like me in O’Hara: “how much longer can I endure this boredom?” Instead, I should have been thankful I was safely on the ground. It’s easy for us, like Israel, to fall into the trap of complaining. “Oh great, manna again.” Like Israel, it’s easy for us to start blaming. “Moses, why did you bring us out here, we had plenty to eat in Egypt? Did you bring us out here to die?”[10]
Remember, sometimes God calls us, like Israel, into a transition. While we are tempted to throw up our hands in disgust or anger, we should remain faithful and ask God what we should be learning while we trust that God is preparing us for something new. Knowing that God is good, we should trust that God has something better in store for us. Now it may not be immediate or even in this life, but we go forth trusting.
Hear this, the Land Between can be a dangerous place for our souls. As we transition to a new normal, we have to guard our hearts against the spirit of despair. If we go down the direction of despair, we easily end up believing that God is not good. Then we become bitter. Or we give up on God. Instead, we need to be patient and believe that God is preparing us for something better.[11] We worship a God of life, of new life. Let’s remember, it’s only after death that we can experience resurrection. The Christian message, the gospel, is to not give up on God. It is to trust that God is working to make all things new, in our lives, in our community, and in our world.
When we enter this Land Between (which we must all travel sooner or later—as individuals and as a part of the communities in which we live), we must look around and give God thanks for the blessings we enjoy. We must be content and patient. We’re Christians, we should be the hopeful ones in the crowd. Israel should have been thankful they were no longer enduring the whips of their former masters and that, even in the wilderness, God was providing for their needs. In the wilderness, where God was actively working to forge them into a new nation, God sustain them. And God will sustain us.
When you enter a period of transition, don’t be like Israel. Believe in God. Trust in God. Give thanks for that blessings, however small they might be, that you have been given. And wait in hope, because you have faith in God. Amen.
©2019
[1] https://www.persecution.org/2019/01/08/pakistani-christians-fear-new-security-mandate-may-lead-church-closures/
[2] https://www.usatoday.com/story/news/nation/2019/01/19/wetumpka-alabama-tornado-causes-significant-damage-downtown-storm-injuries-buildings-damaged/2627450002/
[3] Linda Bonney Olin “Praise God from Whom All Blizzards Flow: A Doxology for Those Blessed with Both Wintry Weather and a Sense of Humor.” (2019). Set to Geistiche Kirchengesanger, 1623; harmony Ralp Vaunghan Williams, 1906, Lasst Uns Erfreuen. Found on Facebook.
[4] See Exodus 15:22-27 and 17:1-7.
[5] Matthew 6:11.
[6] You can email me at jeff@sipres.org
[7] Philip J. Budd, Numbers: Word Biblical Commentary (Waco, TX: Word, 1984), 127.
[8] Interestingly, in Exodus 12:38, we are told that they left Egypt with large herds of animal. Here, no herds are mentioned. Had they eaten all their herds? Numbers doesn’t provide an answer.
[9] Exodus 16:31, Numbers 11:7.
[10] Exodus 16:3.
[11] Jeff Manion, The Land Between: finding God in difficult transitions (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2012 ), 38
Arriving on Little Tybee
Needing some “me” time, I took off Sunday afternoon and paddled over to Little Tybee Island, where I camped, returning on Monday. The weather was marginal, as it had rained in the morning and was still gray at 3:30 PM, when I loaded my kayak and set off. A strong wind was blowing out of the west, which with the outgoing tide, allowed me to make good time as I headed toward the mouth of the Wilmington River and then crossing Wassaw Sound, arriving on the backside of the island around 5 PM. Quickly securing my kayak well above the high water mark, I set up camp behind some dunes that provide a little protection from the strong wind. After getting camp set, I walked back out to the water’s edge to watch the sunset. I feared I’d missed it, but then was surprised when the sun dropped below the cloud bank, providing a short but incredible sunset. The tide was way out, but with the strong wind from the West, I was afraid that it might rise higher than normal, so I pulled my boat up even higher.
Sunset, looking toward Wassaw and Romerly Marsh
Heading back to camp, I started to prepare dinner. Nothing fancy, just a can of beef stew and some fruit. That’s when I learned the pump of my stove wouldn’t prime and the gasket had died and cracked. I ate the stew from the can, cold, along with the fruit, downing it all with a bit of bourbon and caught up with writing in my journal. I was tired and the wind keep blowing strong, so at 7 PM, I decided to climb in my hammock and to get some sleep. I slept an hour and a half, about the length of my normal Sunday afternoon nap. At 9, I woke, thinking it must be early morning. I was wrong by several hours. Lying in the hammock, I began rereading Belden Lane’s The Solace of Fierce Landscapes.
my overnight shelter
At 10 PM, I decided to try sleeping again. I vaguely remember waking a time or two to rearrange covers as the wind was blowing underneath the hammock’s fly and there were cold spots on my back. But I didn’t truly wake until 1:30 PM. Nature was calling and knowing that high tide was approaching, I decided to get up and check on my kayak. The clouds were gone and the sky was beautiful. It was chilly for this part of the country, temperature in the low 40s. Overhead, Orion, the great hunter of the sky followed by his faithful dog appeared as an aggressive matador chasing Taurus the Bull out of the sky. To the north, the Big Dipper was high above the horizon. “Red sky at night, sailor’s delight,” I thought recalling the sunset. Yet, the wind continued to howl. But even though it was near high tide, the water wasn’t anywhere near my boat. I went back to bed, knowing I’d have a boat for my trip back to the mainline in the morning.
Early morning on south side of Little Tybee, looking toward Wassaw
I woke again at 6 AM. It was still dark and the wind still blowing. I was thinking about getting up but fell back asleep. When I checked the time again, it was 7:30 and daylight. I got up to see if there would be a sunrise, hiking for a bit along the water’s edge as I made my way around the sound side of the island to the ocean side. There was no sunset. Fog and clouds had moved in and it was still windy.
Heading back to my camp, I collected an armload of wood. While I could get by with a cold dinner, the lack of coffee and hot oatmeal just wouldn’t cut it. I built a small fire and in no time I water boiling for oatmeal and coffee percolating. The weather was calling for the winds to subside, so I waited around after breakfast, sipping coffee, reading, and some writing in my journal. I had thought I would have been on the way back earlier, but I wasn’t looking forward to fight the winds. Finally, about 9 AM, I extinguished the fire, packed up and a little before 10 AM, was ready to paddle.
Calmer waters as I approach Cabbage Island
Pushing off from shore, I broke a paddle! Thankfully, I had another, so I pulled it out and continued paddling. It was hard as the wind was coming right in my face and the rising tide was flowing into the Bull River, pushing me in the wrong direction. The waves and wide was coming in at a forty-five degree angle, pushing me off course and, with the tide current, making my paddle strenuous. But I keep at it, heading to Cabbage Island. About half way across I heard a foghorn and looked out to the northeast and there was a large container ship heading toward port on the Savannah River. It appeared as a ghost through the fog, but even at this distance, I could tell it was one huge ship. Once I crossed over to the lee side of Cabbage Island, I began to make better time even if I was paddling directly into the current, but when I turned into the Wilmington River, I had both the wind and waves directed at me. I had hoped I could make it back about as fast as I had paddled out, but it took twice as long! As I was approaching Landings Harbor Marina, the wind began to subside.
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
January 13, 2019
Psalm 29
Upcoming!
Starting next week, I will be preaching a series of sermons from the Book of Numbers. In this series, we’ll look at the Hebrew people in the desert during the exodus. They have a choice. They can continue ahead into the Promised Land or they can go back to Egypt. As we do this study, I encourage you to read Jeff Manion’s book, The Land Between. They’ll be avaible this morning, in Liston Hall, for $15. I also encourage you to join a study group working through this book, which will be mirroring the topics I’m preaching. By hearing the sermons, discussing the topics in a small group, and reading the book, you’ll get more out of this series as we learn how to handle change and transition
We’ve just finished focusing on Jesus’ humble birth with the celebration of Christmas. Born in Bethlehem, God came into this world in like all of us. This morning, let’s for a moment contrast the humility of Jesus’ birth with a vision of God from the 29th Psalm. This Psalm, which lifts up God’s glory, orients us to the proper way to approach God. In God’s presence, like the wise men and shepherds, we can only stand in awe.
The Reformed Tradition, in which the Presbyterian Church stands, has always maintained a high view of God. Worship is based upon scripture and directed toward the Almighty. We are skeptical of making too many claims about God, for we understand that God is outside of our control. God is totally other. If God was anything less, he’d not be Almighty and we’d really be in trouble for we’d be depending upon a being that doesn’t have the power to do what we need. In scripture, we learn that God comes to us, drawing us into a relationship with him. God’s grace always precedes any action on our part. When we are truly in God’s presence, we’re speechless. We stand in awe. We’re like those in the Psalm, who can only mumble in amazement, “Glory!” Read Psalm 29.
There is nothing like an electrical storm to remind us just how our lives are fragile. I’ve been caught in many such storms: hiking in the forested woods of the Appalachians, backpacking above tree-line in western mountains, in a boat offshore of North Carolina, paddling a kayak in our sounds, and even once—as a kid—playing golf with my grandfather on Pinehurst #2.
I can assure you, there were plenty of thunderstorms the summer I hiked the Appalachian Trail. With the exception of when above tree line in New Hampshire or Maine, the best thing to do when no shelter was around was to keep on trucking. If it was cold, I would pull on a rain suit, but most often when summer hiking in the heavily forested eastern mountains, it’s was warm enough that you can just get wet. After all, I was probably in need of a shower. Of course, before the storm got too close, I’d stop and put on a pack cover to keep everything inside dry.
I lived through many such storms. The wind picks up. I’d begin to feel vulnerable. The trees start to bend and sway. Occasionally a branch breaks. But the wind is just a warning. Sound of the thunder increases. Soon the lightning is no longer just a flash in the distance, but well-defined streaks. It’s getting closer. Bolts begin popping trees nearby and the smell of burning ozone fills the air. If hiking with others, you spread out. That way, if one is struck, someone else could try CPR, or at least not everyone would be fried and would live to tell the story. After a brief intense period of lightning and deafening thunder, the rain comes. Like the electrical display, it’s short and intense, but quickly passes. Then it’s over.
As the storm moves off eastward, each boom of thunder is a little less intense. It’s hard to tell when the rain stops as the leaves keep shedding their water a good thirty minutes after the storm has past, even after rays of sun break through the canopy, which provides another glimpse of awe. In a few minutes, the storm seems to be a distant dream. In camp that evening, you build a fire and attempt to dry out socks and boots as you discuss shared experiences. Everyone was scared, but are glad to have gone through it. Storms are awe-inspiring.
Did the Psalmist have such an experience? He must have. The description of God’s glory being seen in a powerful storm that breaks trees and shakes the wilderness. In the face of such power, all one can say is “Glory!”
I love this Psalm! We live in a narcissistic world, yet the Psalm reminds us of our limited abilities. In the face of such a storm, in the presence of our God, all stand in awe. The power of this Psalm drowns the choruses of “me, me, me” and “I, I, I” that dominate the sound waves of our lives. We can’t think too much of ourselves when we truly contemplate the power and the glory of our God. When we truly consider the omnipotence of God, a God shown in the 29th Psalm to have power over creation, we are left nearly speechless. The majesty of God drives us to our knees.
I may have told you before about the cocky scientist who thought it wouldn’t be too hard to create a human being. If God could do it, he could do it, or so he thought. So God issued a challenge. He accepted. On the day of the event, the scientist went down to a creek bank and dug out clay and rich dirt. He then began to mold it into a body. It was looking pretty good. But before he could try to blow life into his body, a lightning bolt shattered this creation and a voice from heaven boomed, “Hey you, Mr. Scientist, go get your own dirt.”
In a profound way, the 29th Psalm humbles us before our Creator. Notice that in these 11 verses, humanity remains inactive. The Psalmist remains a passive observer. The Psalm is attributed to David and we can image him as a young man, out herding sheep, having such an adventure. While we are inactive, the Psalm opens with a call for us to worship God, but when we get into the meat of the Psalm, God provides the movement, not us. We just watch as God’s glory is revealed in a violent storm that breaks the strongest trees known in that part of the world, a God over fire and earthquakes, tornadoes and floods. At the end, after tiring himself by proclaiming the wonder of God, the Psalmist expresses hope that God will give us strength and peace.
You know, we are all on a journey in this world. We are here for only a short time. And while we are here, God has something for us to do. We refer to this as our calling and those of us in the Reformed Tradition understand this calling to be more than just what we do within the church. In fact, worship is more than just what we do here on Sunday morning. Our whole lives are to glorify God, so our vocation—whether in the church or in the secular world—is important to God and the furthering of his kingdom.
On Monday, in our Calvin January Series lecture, some of us were blessed to hear Dr. Jimmy Lin talk about the “good news” in the battle against cancer. Those who heard the lecture may have been shocked that before Lin talked about cancer, he discussed his relationship to God, referring to himself as a “scientific doxologist.” As you know, the doxology is a praise of God. Dr. Lin suggested that the most important thing for all of us to do is to praise God. In other words, we are all called to be a doxologists. Yet, we live out our lives in different ways. He is a scientist, so he calls himself a scientific doxologist. When we all think of the labels we place on ourselves for our journey through life, all of us should strive to include the title “doxologists” with our description. “I’m a business doxologist, an engineering doxologist, a banking doxologist, a lawyer doxologist, a retired doxologist, a preaching doxologist…” You get the idea, don’t you?
Interestingly, with all this discussion this morning about storms, Martin Luther, the great Reformer, religious vocation began with a thunderstorm. A nearby lightning strike threw him from his horse. Scared, he prayed and vowed that if saved, he would become a monk.[1]
In his Small Catechism, Luther began his explanation of the Ten Commandments with the phrase, “We should fear and love God.”[2] Most of us probably don’t think of these two terms, fear and love, together. They seem paradoxical, especially to our modern or postmodern minds. We have an idea that for true love to exist we have to be on an equal footing, otherwise one party will dominate the other. This may be partly true in the love between individuals—even though it is not always so. Certainly the foundation of love between a parent and an infant is not built on equality.[3] The child is totally dependent on the parent. The same goes for our relationship to our Heavenly Father. We’re totally dependent on God.
In our relationship with God, there is a dialectical tension between fear and love. We fear God because of our alienation due to sin. And yet, God draws us back to himself, through Jesus Christ, showing us love. Therefore should praise God always.
It’s with fear and love that we approach God and we can see both emotions in the 29th Psalm. Certainly the experiences of storms and natural disasters described in verses 3 through 10 are fearful. But isn’t it reassuring that God’s power extends even over these calamities, and that the God whose power extends over nature is the same God who gives us strength. Such a God is to be the focus of our worship; such a God is to be the focus of our lives. We’re called to join in with the heavenly host and praise him.
The trust of the Psalmist as he contemplates God’s power revealed in a fierce storm is the type of trust Jesus encourages us to have when we pray, “your will be done, your kingdom come.”[4]
When we encounter storms on our journeys, and sooner or later we all will, we should remember that it’s only in God Almighty that we find security. When it comes to the bottom line, there is nothing you and I can do unless God either wills it or allows us the freedom for it to happen. This may seem as a restriction on our sovereignty, but true freedom can only be found by humbling ourselves and by placing our faith in God as revealed in Jesus Christ.
Friends, as you leave this morning, go out into God’s world living up to your calling. Go out into the world and be a doxologist! Amen.
©2019
[1] Roland H. Bainton, Here I Stand: A Life of Martin Luther (1950: Mentor Books, 1961), 15.
[2] Marva J. Dawn, Reaching Out without Dumbing Down: A Theology of Worship for this Urgent Time. (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1995), 97. See all the Lutheran Book of Concord, pages 343ff.
[3] For a discussion on how love changes as we mature, see Erich Fromm, The Art of Loving (1956: Harper & Row, 1974), 41ff.
[4] Matthew 6:10. See also Luke 11:10.
Olivia Laing, To the River (Edinburgh: Canongate, 2011), 281 pages, a few black and white photos.
The first sentence of this book, “I am haunted by waters,” jumped out at me. I’d read it before. It’s the ending line of Norman MacLean’s novella A River Runs through It. I was shocked that she doesn’t list MacLean in her bibliography even though in a later chapter she links him with Hemingway with “swift trout.” (55). Even if she hasn’t read the book, she’s probably seen the movie. It took me a while to get over this neglect (or was she snubbing) of an American author. A second problem I had getting into this book is that I expected her to be traveling through York. After a while I googled and learned that Laing’s river is one of a number of rivers in Great Britain named Ouse. My lack of knowledge of British geography led to this confusion.
Laing sets out to walk the banks of the River Ouse in Sussex. It’s not a long river and in a roughly a week’s time she covers the river that has been altered extensively in history. The one black and white photo of the river in the book looks like an irrigation canal in the American West. Over time, the river has been straightened. Its outlet has also been altered as Britain’s, for centuries, tried to create a usable harbor at its mouth. Silting and the longshore current quickly blocked such harbors. However, this altered river has played a major role in English history. Under her waters, Virginia Woolf drown herself by pocketing stones in her dress to pull her under. In the 13th Century, the Battle of Lewes was fought along its banks. At one time, it was thought to be a location of a fossil providing scientists a link in human evolution, but eventually the “find” was proved a forgery.
Laing walks the banks of the river, staying in old homes and lodges near its bank, musing about history and development, nature and literature, religion and archeology. Laing’s writings displays a depth of knowledge as she not only has an understanding of a battle in the 1200s, but expresses a horror that the bones of many of those who were buried in mass graves ended up in the fill used by those constructing railroads in the 1800s. She introduces her readers to authors such as John Bayley and his wife Iris Murdoch, who both swam in this river. Bayley wrote about his wife’s Alzheimer’s, which allows Laing to explore the role of memory. She’s been doing throughout her walk as she explores the “ghost” along the river. She does not limit her discussion of memory to humans as she also explores how sea trout move up fresh water rivers to spawn. Another author she explores Kenneth Grahame, allows her to explore the role of grief following the author’s son, who like Virginia Woolf, also committed suicide. In addition to modern authors, she also ties in stories of Greek gods along with older British author’s such as the Bebe and the author of the ancient Domesday Book, published shortly after the Norman Invasion. As she weaves other stories into her own, Virginia and Leonard Woolf are always a close by as a common thread that ties everything together.
The deeper I read into this book, the more I enjoyed Laing’s key insights into the world in which she was traveling. She glimpses birds and animals, observes the changing of the weather, and watches other people as she makes her way along the path. She also brings in her own history and relationships into the story. The Ouse, she confesses on the first page, is a river that she has returned to many times. Her historical understanding of all that has happened along the Ouse is refreshing and made me want to keep going. For a river that I knew nothing about, I am glad to have taken this journey and recommend it for others.
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
Matthew 2:1-12
January 6, 2019
This Sunday is Epiphany. In the Christian calendar it marks the end of the Christmas season as we see the decorations disappear. Epiphany means a surprise encounter or a manifestation of God. The root is from the Greek word for sunrise or dawn, although the word was also used in reference to an appearance of a god. In the Eastern Church, Christmas is celebrated on this day with an emphasis on the incarnation—the surprising way God came to us, “in the flesh.”
Traditionally, for those of us in the Western Churches, Protestant and Catholic, this is the time we hear the story of the Wise Men or the Magi, who follow the star that leads them to the infant child. They experienced firsthand the light coming into the world.
As I have done throughout this Advent and Christmas season (with the exception of last Sunday), we will look at these traditional seasonal passages through the lens of Richard Foster’s book, Streams of Living Water.[1] Foster identifies six different streams or traditions in which we encounter and respond to God. With each of the streams, we have explored a different character within the Christmas story. For contemplation, we looked at Mary. Joseph was our example for holiness and John the Baptist for social justice. The shepherds served as our example for the charismatic stream and, of course, Jesus is the supreme example for the incarnational stream.
Our last stream is the evangelical tradition. The word evangelical, which has been often misused, comes from the Greek word evangel or good news. Sadly, when we hear the word evangelical today, people either think of it in a political realm or as a group of Christians who are against things. That’s not a fair way to think about this tradition. It’s not about politics or what we are against. Being evangelical, in a true sense, is about what we’ve experienced in Jesus Christ and a desire to share that experience with others. It’s about being for Jesus. Today, as I conclude this series, we will look at the wise men or magi as an example of the evangelical stream. Read Matthew 2:1-12.
There are a number of angles we can approach the story of the wise men coming to Jesus. This morning, I would like to highlight three:
- The wise men made it a priority to seek Jesus.
- Finding Jesus, they responded with gifts of thanksgiving, without expecting anything in return.
- Having encountered Jesus, they knew their loyalty was to a higher power.
Let’s look at each of these.
We don’t know what was so special about this particular star. It appears only the wise men noticed the star and followed it. Why weren’t others following it? We don’t even know who these guys are. It’s generally assumed they are from Persia. Some scholars suggest they were Zoroastrian priests who spent time studying the stars. And God placed this star (or a conjunction of planets, or an unfamiliar comet, or a supernova, or whatever it was) into the sky to catch their attention and draw them to Judea.[2] It’s obvious these guys are not Jewish, for if they were, they would have known the Messiah was to be born in Bethlehem. Instead, they had to stop and ask direction. They knew something special was happening and wanted to check it out even if it meant a long trip to a distant land.
They took a risk. It was important for them to find Jesus, as it is with us. Responding to Jesus’ call to follow him is the most important decision we will make. It overrides all other decisions. And when we decide to answer this call, like the wise men, we are off on a journey in which we have little control. We are no longer our own; we belong to the Lord.
What might we learn from the wise men’s search? They first go to Jerusalem, the holy city, a place of excitement. Herod’s there; the temple’s there. The streets are packed with pious folks carrying out the work at the temple and with pilgrims who have trekked there to worship. But that’s not where they find Jesus. Instead, they are led to a small dumpy town five miles away. A poor suburb, inhabited with shepherds and goat herders. The town supplied meat and animals for the appetites and sacrifices of those in the capital. Flashy isn’t one of God’s traits. God humbled himself by coming to us as Jesus and, I would suggest, we’ll often find Jesus in humble circumstances. To encounter Jesus, we have to be humbled. Being splashy or among those who are popular isn’t a guarantee that Jesus is present. Jesus comes to those who humbly admit their need for a Lord and Savior over their lives.
Following Jesus is the most important decision we have to make. But we can’t do it unless we are humbled.
Now let’s look at this passage from what it tells us about giving. One of the most important lessons for a Christian is to learn that giving is as much a blessing as it is an obligation. You know, we feel good about ourselves when we give, especially when we give without expecting anything in return. The wise men show the importance of giving without being asked and without expecting anything in return. If you think about it, this is a story of foreigners giving gifts to a child they don’t know. It would be like someone from Romania dropping by the maternity ward at Memorial Hospital and handing out gifts.
Contrary to the popular carol and the ubiquitous nativity scenes, we don’t know for sure that there were three wise men. Instead, we’re told that they had three gifts, so it’s natural to assume three bearers of the gifts, but they may have been more (or less). Gary Larson, author of the Far Side comics, suggested there were four wise men. The fourth was turned away for bringing a fruitcake.
Over the years a lot has been made about the three gifts. It’s natural to associate gold with a king. Myrrh, which was used as an anointing oil for priest was appropriate for the Messiah, the anointed one. Frankincense, used in the sanctuary where prayers were offered to God, may indicate Matthew saw the gifts as foretelling a time when the baby Jesus would be worshiped with God the Father. However, this is only speculation. The gifts may have just been those worthy of a king.[3]
The wise men knew they needed to worship something greater than themselves. They knew they needed to worship God who considered them so precious that he came in the flesh. In coming, although they had no idea of this, they fulfilled the passages from Isaiah about the light of Israel rising and the nations and kings coming to see the glory. In fact, it’s from Isaiah that we get the transformation of wise men or magi into “kings.”[4]
Finally, think about the loyalty of the wise men to a higher authority. Herod provides a counter-plot to the wise men. He reminds us that even though the Messiah has come, evil remains a threat. Herod’s false humility almost fooled the wise men. But then, after being warned in a dream of Herod’s intentions, they skip out of town without letting Herod in on the secret. The wise men are a reminder that our first loyalty is to God. Although as Christians, we’re called to obey those in authority, our allegiance has its limits and our commitment to God always comes first.
Now, let’s think of the wise men or magi in the context of the evangelical tradition. This stream within the Christian faith places a high priority on the proclamation of the gospel, the centrality of Scripture, and the confessional witness of the early Christian community.[5] This good news, the grace of God’s work in Jesus Christ, calls us to follow Jesus. As with the wise men, it calls us to respond out of gratitude, and it also calls us to a new way of life in which God becomes first. We see this twice in this passage, first with the gifts they gave and, secondly, when they follow God and ignore Herod’s request that would allow him to carry out a great evil.
For those of us in the evangelical tradition (and that would include Presbyterians for I am speaking of the true meaning of the word, not how it is used in political discourse today), the need to tell others about Jesus fueled our missionary efforts to spread the good news to other nations and people. We always do this with God at the center. For the wise men, it’s God who calls them to Bethlehem. The wise men become the first converts to worship Jesus outside of his parents and a few shepherds. They represent the first fruit of an evangelical zeal that will spread the gospel to all the world. Friends, we need to rekindle that zeal.
I started this sermon with three things we learn from the wise men. I am going to add one additional thing to this. There are four things that I want you to take home today and to ponder throughout the week: Seek Jesus, give graciously, know that God always comes first, and remember that we’re called to spread the Good News of Jesus Christ. Amen.
©2018
[1] Richard Foster, Streams of Living Water: Celebrating the Great Traditions of the Christian Faith (New York: HarpersCollins, 1988). The idea for this series came from Peter Hoytema, “Six Biblical Characters, Six Traditions of Faith” Reformed Worship #65 (September 2002).
[2] For a detailed treatment of the various ideas around the star, see Raymond Brown, The Birth of the Messiah (New York: Doubleday, 1993), 167-173.
[3] Douglas R. A. Hare, Matthew: Interpretation Commentary (Louisville: John Knox Press, 1993), 14.
[4] See Isaiah 60:1-6 (especially verse 3 for kings and verse 6 for their camels). See also Psalm 72:10-11. Brown, 187-188 has a detailed account on how the wise men or Magi were transformed into kings.
[5] Foster, 219.
Scott Stillman, Wilderness: The Gateway to the Soul (Boulder, CO: Wild Soul Press, 2018), 198 pages.
I really wanted to like this book. I thought I would enjoy it. After all, like Stillman, I have done many wilderness trips, both overland and on water. I’ve solo backpacked, off-trail and cross-country, in some of the same areas in which he explores in his book. Wilderness is a collection of accounts of Stillman’s mountain, desert and backwoods trips across the American West. Sadly, I found many of his stories to be flat. Too many lacked suspense and a plot line. To me, Stillman’s book reads like my journals (in which I scribble and make notes of my experiences, and like him occasional composing a line or two of poetry). But I don’t share my journals, I save them and later will distill from them what will go into a story. Instead of his journals serving as the source of ideas, it appears Stillman is offering up slightly edited journal entries.
My favorite story in this book was in the second chapter (Sycamore Canyon Wilderness, Arizona). The author is hiking through the Arizona desert, from Cottonwood to Sedona. In this story, I could feel the suspense and even some thirst as he struggled to find water. I would have liked to have felt such thirst (or sore muscles or fear) in all the stories. The wilderness can be a place many of us go to find healing, but we must also realize that it’s a dangerous place. Only when we are willing to take the risk can we experience the transformation that such places offers.
It appears to me that Stillman has some good ideas about the role of wilderness (many of which I share). But instead of developing the idea from the experiences contained within a story, these ideas are dropped in as a “truth.” Instead of the allowing the reader to gain from the struggles and the joy of being in the wild, coming to their own conclusions as we experience through words his experiences, Stillman tells us what to think. These are all solid ideas that I have held, such as it doesn’t take a lot of
In my opinion, Stillman also overuses lists (this is the second recent book I’ve reviewed and made this observation). He will drop a series of one word descriptions describing the weather, what he’s seeing, among other things. While occasionally a list can be a beneficial technique for emphasis, I felt many of these lists could be woven into the story and used as a way to draw the reader into his encounter within the wild. Stillman appears to strive for a minimalist style of writing (as in his hiking) by using short sentences and even many one-word sentences (which create a list).
Stillman has done a wonderful job advertising his self-published book. Using his incredible talents as a photographer, with a clever line or two from the book, I was sucked in. It’s too bad that Stillman didn’t publish a book of photographs with one or two line reflections. Such a book, while expensive to produce, would be a thing of beauty. There are no photos in this book except for those on the cover. In his advertisement copy, there is a quote comparing Stillman to Edward Abbey. While it is no doubt that Stillman, like Abbey, loves the wilderness and wants to protect it, his writings lack Abbey’s wit and “reverent irreverence.” Abbey always presented himself as a bit of a contraction (driving old gas guzzling cars and tossing beer cans out onto the desert floor while fighting against those threatening the environment). Stillman appears to have everything worked out neatly in his head, even before he has such experiences. His trips into the wilderness only confirms his beliefs.
I recommend everyone to find a way to appreciate the grandeur of the world in which we live. Such experiences help us understand ourselves better. But I cannot, in good conscience, recommend this book. Hopefully, the author will follow his hero, Edward Abbey, and continue to hone his craft. Abbey’s first book, Jonathan Troy, was not very well received, but when his second book, The Brave Cowboy came out, he had found his voice. The West is a complex place (which may be why I’ve yet to write about it outside of a few academic and historical pieces). To understand the West as a place which can help us to understand ourselves better requires so many different levels of thought: human and natural history, geology, hydrology, weather, botany, forestry, animal science, industrial development, economics, among other studies.
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
Psalm 90
December 30, 2018
INTRODUCTION
This is an in-between time. We’re still in the Christmas season, but all the present have been open. And we’re just a day and a half away from the beginning of another year. Should we sing carols or hymns like God of the Ages? So today, we’re going to try to catch it all as we sing a few carols and then reflect on our time on earth at the changing of the calendars.
This season is a time of looking back and all that happened in 2018, as so many of the news shows have been doing this week. But it’s also a time to look forward into 2019. I am always amused at the comic depictions of the New Year which show and old man on the 31st and a young baby on the 1st. I don’t know about you, but that’s not exactly how I find time marching on. But, I suppose, the humorous strips indicate this is a time to reflect back and forward.
In case you’re wondering what happened to the streams of tradition in which we encounter and respond to God, let me give you a heads up. Next week, which is the second and last Sunday of Christmastide in the Christian calendar, I will end with my sixth and final sermon on the streams of the Christian tradition as we discuss the wisemen and the evangelical tradition. Since there are only six “streams” and seven sermon opportunities between the Advent and Christmas tradition, I thought I would take today to reflect on the end of one year as we begin a new one.
Another change for today… Instead of doing a traditional sermon, I am going to offer three short reflections on Psalm 90, as a way for us to ponder a life of faith in the presence of an almighty and all-loving God. I will also offer you some time to ponder the meaning of this Psalm for your life. Psalm 90 will be divide it into three parts: God’s eternal nature, human fragility, and our need for God’s compassion. In this Psalm, we are reminded of our limits, but also of God’s eternal nature in whom we find meaning and hope. In addition to a unique way of approaching this text today, we will also sing a variety of hymns and carols. Let us now greet one another with the peace of Christ. May the peace of Christ be with you.
GOD IS ETERNAL (Exodus 15:1-2, 11-13; Deuteronomy 32:3-4, 39, 43)
Verses 1 and 2 are a praise chorus that we’ll repeat over and over this morning as they set the context for the Psalm. “Lord, you have been our dwelling place throughout all generations. Before the mountains were born or you brought forth the earth and the world from everlasting to everlasting, you are God.” In repeating this chorus, we’re reminded that our lives may be fleeting, just a speck of time in the history of the world, but we live our lives in God’s presence, which makes all the difference in the world.
The 90th Psalm is attributed to Moses, which is why we begin with readings from Moses’ songs as found in Exodus and Deuteronomy. Moses was God’s chosen leader for the Hebrew people, who led them out of Egyptian slavery and during the period of the Exodus. But it wasn’t Moses who freed them the Hebrews. God is the liberator, who gave Moses the ability to do things he never imagined he could do. Moses was a mere man (a wanted man, no less) who probably stuttered. At the very least, he wasn’t an eloquent speaker. But God called him to a task which he performed and which marked a significant step in the history of human salvation. Yet, in the eyes of God, Moses’ life was just a speck, as are our lives. God is eternal, we’re not.
As the Psalm begins, we find our dwelling place in God. Other translations say that God is our refugee. The eternal God, who existed before even the mountains, even before the earth, is where we find solace and peace. Take a moment and ponder this for a moment: “We worship a God that is so much more than us…” You might even share it quietly with someone sitting beside you…
Prayers of Confession and Petition
Almighty God, as we stand at the end of the year, we look back at the
troubles of 2018 and pray for guidance. We know our world is in trouble. We don’t get along with one another and it is easy to categorize people into groups that we quickly dismiss. Forgive us. Many people in this world live without opportunities, face daily violence, corrupt or brutal leaders, or struggle with natural disasters. Help them and help us to be compassionate. Others have done wrong and now find themselves in painful situations with broken relationships and lives behind bars. Forgive them and help us to be compassionate. Others have suffered from the crippling effects of illness and accidents. Heal them and help us to be compassionate. Some are grieving over the deaths of loved ones. Give them peace and help us to be compassionate.
BUT WE’RE SO FRAGILE (Psalm 90:3-12)
When we think of God’s powerful sovereignty, it is easy for us to realize our limitations. The second part of this Psalm, which is addressed to God, reminds us of our position in the created world. Are we special? Not really. We’ve made of dust. We’re like a grass that perks up in the morning and is scorched by the sun’s heat by evening. Life is transient.
The Psalmist understands our fallen nature. We live out our lives before God who is angered by our sinfulness. We must accept and deal with God’s wrath. We must deal with toil and trouble, sadness and heartbreak; yet, before we know it the whistle blows and life is over. This middle section of the Psalm draws us into a reality that we don’t want to accept. We are fragile and we are limited. One day, it’s all going to be over, so the Psalm asks that God teach us to count our days, to give our hearts wisdom, so that we might make the most of our lives.
Come tomorrow night, 2018 will be over. We can’t go back and relive or redo any part of it. But having a wise heart means that we can learn from our mistakes and more forward. Perhaps this is a place where resolutions, which are often made and joked about during this season, can play a role in strengthening our faith. What did you learn from 2018? What would like to do differently in 2019? Take a minute and think about this. Make notes for yourself or silently share your ideas with a neighbor.
SO WE NEED GOD’S COMPASSION (Psalm 90:13-17)
While our Psalm has been realistic on the human condition, it ends by turning back to God and asking for compassion. There’s a bargaining going on with God. While the Psalm pleads for God to turn back, to show compassion and love, it gives reasons for God to fulfill this request. Those singing this Psalm promise that they’ll praise God and be joyous servants of the Almighty. They also promise that God’s deeds will be remembered by their children for generations to come. So instead of leaving us under the wrath of God, the Psalmist leaves us with the hope of a God who intervenes in history, as was done in Jesus Christ. Jesus removes the stain of our sin and offers us new life. Although this Psalm was written down generations, centuries before Jesus, those of us who live on this side of resurrection knows that God has shown his favor to us. God has answered the pleas of the Psalm. God’s wrath isn’t the final answer. Jesus came to show divine love to us. So as we make this Psalm our prayer, we should include a thanksgiving for the work of Jesus that wasn’t just limited to 2000 years ago, but continues on today and to the end of history. As we move into 2019, let us thank God for his compassion and love. Let us pray:
Prayer of Thanksgiving
Almighty God, as we stand at the beginning of a new year, we look forward with anticipation, for we know you are a God of hope and surprises. We thank you for all you have done for us in the past and we trust you as we move into the future, knowing that you’ll be with us regardless of what happens. Your creation provides for all our needs. Your love as shown in your Son, our Savior and Lord Jesus Christ, provides us with opportunities to be forgiven and to begin again as well as to enjoy life everlasting. And your ever-present Spirit encourages us when we struggle. O Great Triune God, we are humbled by your gifts of grace and eternally thankful.
©2018
Jeff Garrison
Homily for Nicky Pipkin’s Funeral
December 22, 2018
Psalm 100
Billy Beasley, Nicky Pipkin, Jeff Garrison. 2012 This picture hangs in my study.
I first met Nicky at the beginning of the 4th Grade when we were both assigned to Miss Freeman’s classroom. A shy boy, he was by far the smartest person in the class. Later, as school boundaries changed, Nicky and I attended different high schools. However, we kept up with each other because his father, Bert, was the manager of Wilson’s Supermarket where I worked in the afternoons. And for many years after I left that job, I would stop by the Supermarket when in town and his dad would tell me about Nicky. Bert was so proud of his son for graduating from Carolina, going to medical school at ECU, studying to be a heart surgeon. Thankfully, about six or seven years ago, I was able to reconnect with Nicky. As you all know, he was a wonderful man.
For my homily, I will use the 100th Psalm, one of Nancy Jo’s favorites. It’s upbeat, a psalm full of joy and music, the opposite of what many of us are feeling this morning. But Nicky enjoyed music, singing in the choir and playing the guitar. Nicky also kept God at the center of his life, which is what the Psalmist reminds us to do in this “song of thanksgiving.” Listen:
Make a joyful noise to the Lord, all the earth. Worship the Lord with gladness; come into his presence with singing. Know that the Lord is God. It is he that made us, and we are his; we are his people, and the sheep of his pasture. Enter his gates with thanksgiving, and his courts with praise. Give thanks to him, bless his name. For the Lord is good; his steadfast love endures forever, and his faithfulness to all generations.
Scholars suggest this Psalm was most likely sung at the entry way into the temple. The first two verses could easily be a call to worship. Imagine the chief priest standing at the gates of the temple in his finest robe. Suddenly, trumpets blast, quieting the crowd. Then, in a loud voice, the priest steps forward to summon the crowd for the awesome task at hand. “Make a joyful noise,” he begins. “Worship the Lord with gladness.” We can imagine the gathered congregation responding as they sing, “To God be the glory.”
Verse three, “Know the Lord is God and that he made us and we are his, we are the sheep of his pasture,” reminds us (as well as those who had gathered at the temple) of our primary purpose. We’re created to worship God. God is our king! Those who first heard this song, as they were preparing to enter the temple, are reminded to put away thoughts of grandeur for themselves, to put away petty differences they might have with each other. They’ve come here together, united, in worship. The fourth verse reminds us to focus on God as we enter the gates singing praises. The Psalm closes with the reason behind our worship: “God is good. God’s love endures forever. God is faithful to every generation.”
This may be a short psalm, but its pack with a wonderful message reminding us to have God at the center of our lives and foremost in our thoughts. God is faithful, even at a sad time like the present.
Nicky believed. He didn’t fully understand why the cancer was happening to him, but he trusted God. He had accepted Jesus and placed in his faith in Savior. Dr. Ken Griffin, a colleague of Nicky’s from Savannah, told me how Nicky was so respected in the medical community and how the “light of Christ” shown through his practice of medicine.
I visited Nicky a few days after Thanksgiving. He told me how he could feel God’s leading his life, often times taking him on a different direction than he’d planned. But God was faithful as he was able to fulfill his childhood dream to become a Doctor. He might not have fully understood why he was sick, why all this happened to him (none of us do), but he felt God’s presence. Nicky confided in me that he had never felt alone since his teenage years. When he was 14 and his parents had split up and his family seemed to be unwinding, he found that God was with him as he was becoming the man we’d know. Even toward the end of his life, when he admitted to having more “bad days than good,” Nicky knew he was in God’s loving arms. He trusted in his Savior and knew his destiny.
Certainly Nicky wanted more time on earth, but it wasn’t just time for himself. This was not a selfish desire. He wanted to take care of his family and to enjoy their presence. Nicky loved Nancy Jo, his wife and high school sweetheart. He adored his daughters Mallory and Madison, and his grandchildren Maisy, Cutler and Brandynn. He cared for his sisters and his extended family.
Over the past few days as I’ve talked to some of Nicky’s friends and read a host of comments on Facebook, many from those of us who knew him at Bradley Creek Elementary School. Everyone commented first on his kindness. Nicky was quiet and shy back then, unlike many of us in those days. Even then, his compassionate nature was witnessed as he spoke up in defense of those who were bullied. He had a tender heart and was generous with his time, his friendship, and his resources.
“The wonderful thing about Nicky is that he never changed, noted his friend Billy Beasley. Billy told me about when they first reunited after decades of not seeing each other, Nicky had asked Billy if he had done anything in school for which he needed to apologize. Billy, the lead knucklehead in a class filled with knuckleheads, couldn’t believe Nicky was asking this. Nicky was always the kind and considerate one.
I spoke with Allen Bosson, his pastor when he lived in Savannah, with whom Nicky had attended several mission trips to Panama and Jamaica. Even though he was a highly skilled surgeon, Nicky helped set the example. He never complained when eating strange food and while staying in hotels which, if they had been rated, would have received a black hole instead of a single star. Allen told of a young girl he was treating, whom he had to refer to the hospital. Afterwards, Nicky was visibly upset because he couldn’t do anything more and was afraid the child would die. Nicky’s compassion, first witnessed when he was just a child, remained with him throughout his life. He didn’t go into medicine to make a lot of money, Nicky wanted to help people and used his God given talents to do that.
Nicky was humble. He never felt special. He didn’t introduce himself as Doctor or Nicky Pipkin, MD. It was always Nicky. Dr. Keith Cobb told me how Nicky volunteered to help him plant a pecan orchard. Keith had also hired some migrant workers and when they were taking a break, one asked Nicky if he did this kind of work often. “No,” Nicky said, “I’m just doing it for the exercise.” The other worker then asked what he did and laughed when Nicky said he was a surgeon. The migrant worker thought this hard working man must be joking.
In his medical practice, Nicky’s skill as a surgeon saved many lives. He also saved one of Keith’s horses who’d snapped a ligament. Keith had tried to sew it back together, but the repair didn’t hold, so he called on the skill of his surgeon friend Nicky. They put the horse to sleep and Nicky used his talents to repair the tendon. They then put a cast on the horse’s leg. After it had healed, the horse recovered beautifully.
Nicky seemed to understand that God had given him gifts that didn’t make him special, but instead were his to use quietly to help others. Whatever the task at hand, Nicky didn’t think it was below him to join in and help out, whether it was sweeping a floor or serving in some other way.
I think it was in August when I talked to Nicky shortly before he went on medical disability. He was torn. He wanted to keep working to be able to better provide for his family. But he knew he needed to make sure he was able to provide the kind of care his patients needed. Shortly after that conversation, Nicky decided to go onto disability and to leave Arkansas and move back to North Carolina. If there was a place in Nicky’s life for pride, it was in his grounding in the Old North State and being a Carolina graduate.
Sadly, his journey back to North Carolina was made only a week before an unwelcomed visitor, Hurricane Florence, came calling. It seemed as if all kinds of storms were raging in Nicky’s life, but as he did throughout life, he didn’t complain. When he had energy, he took care of business and, through it all, was able to enjoy his last few months on Wrightsville Beach listening to the sound of the surf.
We’ll miss Nicky. Carl Mason, Nicky’s childhood friend and high school soccer teammate said to me the other day, “Nicky was the type of individual who inspires us to be a better person.” Yes! And we should draw from the lessons Nicky showed us in his life and strive to be the type of person that looks out for others, one who is always kind, who loves family and friends, and who works to make this world a better place. Furthermore, we should also draw from his private but a very real faith that reminds us, as does the 100th Psalm, that we are not alone in this world. We are loved by God and for that reason, even when we are at the grave, we can sing “to God be the glory.” Amen.
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
Christmas Eve 2018
John 1:1-14
Throughout Advent, we’ve been reading traditional seasonal passages about the coming and birth of Christ using the various Christian traditions outlined by Richard Foster in Streams of Living Water as our lens.[1] So far we have explored four great themes: the contemplative, the holiness, the social justice, and the charismatic. This evening, we are going to look at a fifth way of encountering God, one that all the other streams flow into. That’s the incarnational tradition.
Our Scripture reading for my homily this evening comes from the first chapter of John’s gospel. John doesn’t talk about Bethlehem or mangers. There are no shepherds or wisemen. Instead, John’s gospel is all about the incarnation—Jesus Christ is God in the flesh. And our question tonight is what difference does Jesus coming make in our lives? Read John 1:1-14.
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I am old enough to remember when the cheesy animated movie, “Rudolph, the Red-nosed Reindeer” came out. It was 1964, I was just starting school, and it was a big event because this was the first show I saw on TV that was in color. We didn’t have a color TV. Most of my friends didn’t have a color TV. But there was one family in the neighborhood that had taken the plunge and purchased a color TV. They invited the whole neighborhood over. A hoard of us kids crowded into their living room and sat on the floor around their wonderful television. We rooted for the misfit reindeer as he fought with rejection, faced horrible blizzards, and battled the evil snow monster. To a kid, it was scary. I had to smile at just how cheesy the movie was when I watched it again, decades later.
Over the years, I’ve been cynical when I’ve thought about this show. After all, Rudolph, like too many of our Christmas traditions, was created in a marketing department. In Rudolph’s case, it was Montgomery Ward’s. The character outlived the institution that created it. I know there are some who think there’s a major onslaught against Christmas in our culture and in some ways they may be right, but I’m not sure they really understand the. Commercialism has been an enemy of the holiday ever since Protestants in America began celebrating Christmas in the mid-19th Century. And this movie is an example. There’s nothing in the movie about the birth of a Savior.
But maybe I’m a bit harsh. Yes, it is true that the movie takes the focus off the Christ-child in Bethlehem and places it on Santa’s workshop at the North Pole. But Christ-like values are seen throughout the film. The misfits find a place to fit in. You have an elf that wants to be a dentist, a reindeer with a bright red nose, toys that are exiled on an island for misfits. If you’re not perfect, you don’t fit in. If you’re not perfect, you’re bullied, which is still a problem in our schools and in society. Yet, in the movie, all these misfits find their place. The dentist elf pulls the teeth of the feared abominable snow monster. Rudolph’s nose allows Santa to fly in inclement weather. The misfit toys find homes. And even the feared snow monster becomes tame and is able to help out, placing the star upon Santa’s large tree without a ladder. There’s a place for everyone. Yes, it’s a kid’s movie, but it’s a movie about redemption which is, after all, at the heart of the Christian message.
God’s great gift of coming to us in the flesh—the incarnation—opens us up to the possibility of transformation, to the possibility of incarnational living. Our calling, which is more than just how we make a living, is to produce good in the world.[2] Here at Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church, we have a slogan. We’re to reflect the face of Jesus to the world. That’s what the incarnation is all about, sharing a smile, helping out a neighbor or a stranger, caring for those around us and doing it in the name of Jesus.
As some of you know, I made a quick trip to North Carolina on Friday and Saturday in order to officiate at the funeral of a childhood friend. Although a hurried trip, I was blessed to gather stories about Nicky from both childhood friends and those who worked with him. Nicky became a heart surgeon and over the years many of us lost touch with him, but about 10 years ago thanks to Facebook, many of us reconnected.
Nicky Pipkin in the middle. Billy Beasley (the mutual friend) to the left and me to the right. 2012
One of our mutual friends noted, after reuniting, that Nicky was the same then as he was when we were in elementary school at Bradley Creek. Another classmate noted how Nicky stepped in to stop other kids from bullying. Many of his former patients sent notes about how he had saved their lives. Nicky didn’t go into medicine to make money. He was interested in helping people. He also had a strong faith and had told me when we’d last visited how he felt God’s leading in his life. In a way, Nicky is an example of an incarnational life. I’m sure you known such people in your circle of friends. They don’t wear their religion on their chest, but they live the faith and their works are seen in the good they do.
As John reminds us, through Jesus we have experienced God’s glory that’s full of grace and truth. And those of us who have experienced such grace should share it with others as we reflect the face of Jesus to the world. Like in the Rudolph story, we need to stand up against bullying and to help everyone find a place where they belong. In that manner, we fulfill our calling to be disciples of God’s Son. In that manner, we’ll share Christmas cheer year around. Amen.
©2018
[1]Richard J. Foster, Streams of Living Water: Celebrating the Great Traditions of the Church, (New York: HarpersCollins, 1998). The sermon series idea came from Peter Hoytema, “Six Biblical Characters, Six Traditions of Faith” Reformed Worship #65 (September 2002).
[2] Foster, 263.
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
Luke 2:8-20
December 23, 2018
This Advent and Christmas season we have explored the traditional passages of the season through the lens provided in Richard Foster’s book, Streams of Living Waters. Foster outlines six different Christian traditions.[1] As I’ve noted, you can find support within scripture for each. Yet, each one has a different way of encountering and responding to God. Today, we’re going to look at the Charismatic tradition through the Shepherd’s role at the nativity. Charismatic might be a word that causes us to be uneasy. It conjures up images of wooden white-washed Pentecostal Churches: talking in tongues along with extremely enthusiastic worship running the gambit from passionate singing to dancing to even (on the fringes) snake handling.
But that’s not really what being charismatic is all about. It’s about being open to the leading of God’s Spirit, and while there are excesses as with any of the traditions, all Christians should be open to the Spirit. Let’s see what this stream means as we consider the role of the shepherds. Read Luke 2:8-20.
The shepherds were folks on the margin.[2] They were the cowboys of their day, spending extensive amount of time out with the flocks, watching over the animals to keep them safe from poaching or wild beasts. When they came to town, they probably wanted to tie one on. Instead of heading to a synagogue or the temple, they would have stopped by at the first available saloon serving cheap booze. “Give me a bottle of rotgut,” they’d demand. Even though Israel celebrated their Shepherd King, David, and they likened God’s guidance to a shepherd (as in the 23rd Psalm), real live shepherds were look down upon. After spending a week or so on the range, without baths and in an age without deodorant, shepherds weren’t exactly embraced when they came into town. Being a shepherd was to be at the bottom of society, yet it’s to them that God chose to reveal himself as a child.
For many people, God’s decision to announce the birth of God’s son to unlikely, ordinary and underserving people didn’t make sense. Those in Herod’s court, or the priest in the temple, or the lawyers or business men made better sense. But instead, there are two groups that God choose to share this secret: shepherds and wisemen. The Christmas story reminds us that even the lowly, the despised, and the foreign can be used by God to carry out the divine plan.
When the angels appear to the shepherds, their first words are “Fear Not.” When God chooses to be revealed, it’s not an occasion for fear even though it’s frightening. The correct response is to rejoice, as the angels encourage the shepherds with their song of praise. Their song has two great themes: glory and peace. Glory is all about God in heaven. Peace is possible on earth because of God’s glory in heaven. And Jesus is the pivot where the heavenly glory and earthly peace are joined.
Historians tell us that he shepherds were living in a peaceful age. In 31 A. D., Octavian, known also as Caesar Augustus, defeated Mark Anthony, a victory that ushered in an almost 100 year period of peace for the Roman empire. During this time there were no major wars or even major revolts. Pax Romana or the peace of Rome allowed prosperity across the empire, but it wasn’t a pretty peace. The Romans ruled with a brutal iron fist over their conquered territories. The cross helped them maintain their so-called peace. That’s not the kind of peace Jesus brought into the world.
It’s a good think our Lord’s birth wasn’t first announced among the Roman authorities. After all, they felt they had peace and, as Matthew’s gospel tells us, would to go to any extreme to maintain that peace including killing potential challengers to the existing order. But the shepherds, whose marginal lives did not benefit from the Roman prosperity, were able to experience peace at the manger. For them, Jesus’ birth was Good News.
Now let’s think about the shepherds from the perspective of the charismatic stream. For those of us in the Reformed Faith, charismatic experiences might seem far-fetched, but I’ll let you in on a secret, there are a few Pentecostal Presbyterian Churches.[3] More importantly, we shouldn’t get hung up on the emotional pull of Pentecostalism, but instead realize that the Holy Spirit plays a significant role in our own tradition.
There’s a Reformed slogan you may have heard… Anytime anyone wants to change anything within the church, they’ll liable to shout, “The Church Reformed, Always Reforming,” claiming it as support for doing something new. While it’s important for the church to do new things, we need to understand that favorite quote is actually misquoted. “The church reformed, always reforming” sounds than all reforming is good, but it’s missing a key part of that Reformation saying.
The correct quote is “The church reformed, always to be reformed according to the Word of God and in the power of the Spirit.”[4] In other words, we reform as we see our faults through God’s Word and are led by the Holy Spirit. Catch that? We are to be led by the Spirit—that’s charismatic! We are to be open to God’s Spirit guiding our sanctification. That’s what being charismatic is all about—it’s embracing the gifts that God gives, that comes from God’s Spirit.
“We do not live our lives ‘under our own steam;’” Richard Foster writes. “We were never created to do so. We are created to live our lives in cooperation with another reality.”[5] As believers, we must be open to following where God’s Spirit leads. Like the shepherds who abandoned their flocks to check out what the angels had revealed to them, and who praised God when they encountered the baby in a manager, we have to be open to where God might be leading us.
Foster provides four benefits of this tradition. Being open to the spirit helps us correct our attempts to domesticate God. This can be a problem. We like to put God in a box. It allows us to pretend we have some control over God. We forget that Jesus teaches that God is like the wind, free to blow where he chooses.[6] We can’t control God or the wind. Secondly, when we are open to God’s Spirit, we can be pulled out spiritual doldrums. It’s easy to be satisfied with where we are at spiritually, yet not be growing. Since none of us will obtained a perfected sinless state in this life, we are all called to continue growing spiritually. Being open for charismatic gifts helps us mature as a Christian. And finally, this stream empowers us to witness to the great things that God can do through us when we are open to his Spirit.[7] As Jesus teaches, with God, all things are possible.[8]
Of course, there are some perils to over-emphasizing the charismatic stream. If we think ours is the only way to encounter God, we discount other experiences of the divine as we focus only on that which we’re comfortable. We also risk focusing mainly on the gift, not the giver. This stream, by itself, also risks the rejection of the rational and the intellectual. We can also emphasize the Spirit’s gifts so much that we forget about the fruit of the Spirit, those places in our lives where we show evidence of God’s on-going sanctification. Finally, this tradition seems to have been the source of many end-time scenarios that lack theological and even Biblical foundations.[9]
Again, just because we draw upon the charismatic stream doesn’t mean we’ll talk in tongues or become faith healers, although we shouldn’t outright dismiss such practices even if it’s not for us. There is a lot we can learn about being open to the Spirit. We can try to be more open by laying our hands on those over whom we pray. We can strive to be freer in our worship experiences. The shepherds were called that evening outside of Bethlehem to leave their positions of comfort as they laid on the hillside, probably by a fire, warming themselves while listening for sounds of danger within their herds. That was a life they knew. Yet, they are called to leave, for short while, their life on the pasture and seek out a child coming with the promise of peace. As they sought Jesus, they experienced God in a new way.
Charismatic means being open to the Spirit. The shepherds were. Are we? Amen.
©2018
[1]Richard J. Foster, Streams of Living Water: Celebrating the Great Traditions of the Church, (New York: HarpersCollins, 1998). The sermon series idea came from Peter Hoytema, “Six Biblical Characters, Six Traditions of Faith” Reformed Worship #65 (September 2002).
[2] It has also been noted by historians that many of the early members of charismatic and Pentecostals were also on the margins of society.
[3] There were two in the Presbytery of Western New York when I a pastor within that presbytery (1990-1993).
[4] Presbyterian Church USA, Book of Order, F-2.02.
[5] Foster, 125.
[6] John 3:8.
[7] Foster, 128-130.
[8] Matthew 19:26, Mark 10:27.
[9] Foster, 130-131.
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
Luke 3:1-20
December 16, 2018
Let’s watch a video…[1]
Those of us who anticipate the coming of something great during this season may, once again, be sucked in by Madison Avenue. If the magic of Christmas is nothing more than a soda, we’re a poor lot indeed. The message of Advent is that something is coming, something is happening, but it has nothing to do with a convoy of trucks. Coca-Cola, which has heavily invested in Christmas commercials for nearly a century, can make us thirst for a syrupy drink, but it can’t quench our thirst.[2]
What are we to anticipate? Have our senses been so numbed that we’re forgotten? This is the season we remember God coming to us as child born to homeless parents in a stable in Bethlehem. God comes to us as a family who will soon find themselves as refugees as they flee Herod. The coming of the Messiah had been anticipated for generations when Jesus came. And those of us living between the first coming and the second still anticipate a more righteous world. This leads us into our third stream in which people encounter and respond to God with a longing for social justice. Today we are going to look at the character of John the Baptist through the lens of this desire for things to be made right in the world. Read Luke 3:1-20.
With all the hecticness of the season—the shopping, cleaning and cooking—we’re liable to forget about love. And when we read our New Testament passage for today, we’re not exactly reminded of it. Let’s be honest, John the Baptist does not give us warm fuzzy feelings. A wild man ranting and raving in the desert, calling people vipers and snakes, doesn’t sound like love to me. If it’s love, it’s “tough love.”
But John caught people’s attention with his unusual tactics. Although he preached judgment, when he got down to application, his message really wasn’t that tough. He told those who would listen that they couldn’t depend on the faith of their ancestors and that a certain level of behavior was expected from them. His message was to share and take care of one another and not to steal or cheat. If you think about it, he even supported the rights of soldiers and tax collectors to do their jobs. They just couldn’t use their position to extort money. Soldiers and tax collectors were hated because they worked for Rome, but that didn’t bother John as long as they are honest. And it must not have bothered most of those who listened because we are told they were rather excited about what he said. The exception to this was Herod. John bothered Herod, but to most, his message was refreshing. He lifted up hope for one who’s coming, the one from whom he’s preparing the way.
It’s interesting that John was able to pull off his message. After all, he preached to the chosen, those God hand-picked to be a light to the world. He tells these folks who feel secure in their covenant with God that they’d better shape up. He calls them to a new sense of righteousness, one envisioned by the prophets, a law written in their heart.[3]
In other words they, like us, need to be converted. We to clean up our act so we can begin to anticipate what our God can do for us as opposed to what we can do for ourselves. We need to make room in our hearts for God’s desires, not our own.
Years ago I clipped a Christmas meditation from a church newsletter which read:
“All I want for Christmas!” Isn’t that just like our human hearts? What do I get out of this? As Christians, we know this isn’t right even though we are so enculturated by the traditional celebrations of the Christmas season that is somehow seems all right… kind of. What does God want? God asks for only one thing—my heart.[4]
Advent is a time of preparing ourselves for something big. It’s a time to prepare our hearts for God. That means we must hear the messages of judgment and the call to repentance. And what better way to catch out attention that John the Baptist, who, like junkyard dog, growls at us.
Years ago, in my mid-20s, I was living in a small house in Whiteville NC that had a basketball goal in the backyard. My neighbor kept a dog in a pen on the boundary between the houses. From what I could tell, this neighbor who was seldom home, fed and watered the dog, but otherwise mostly neglected him. Often, in the afternoon when I was done with work, I’d go out and shoot some hoops and the dog would bark and growl. I was patient and talked softly to the dog. Over time, I’d bring out a treat. In a few weeks, the dog calmed down and when I went out to shoot hoops, instead of growling, he be excited and yip and pant until I came over to give him some attention.
Likewise, John demands our attention and then, once he has it, softens his message to tell us to do what we’d expect from anyone. Be honest, be fair, and be generous. If we live such a way, we’ll be in good standing when the Messiah comes (or, in our case, when he returns).
Before leaving the text and moving on to discuss the Social Justice stream, let me say a bit more about what we read here. Luke, as he did in chapter two with Jesus’ birth, places the ministry of John the Baptist into historical context. We learn who’s in charge in Rome, as well as in the sub-kingdoms of Judea and Galilee and the surrounding area. We also learn who’s who in the temple. Luke then contrasts those in positions of power to a lone voice in the desert. We’re reminded here that one doesn’t have to be in a position of power for God to use to bring about major change in the world.
The social justice stream within the Christian tradition goes all the way back to the prophets who called Israel to change her ways, to take care of the poor, the widowed, the orphan, the foreigner. It’s a stream a lot of us would like to ignore, which is why we have to deal with John’s preaching before we get to Jesus’ teachings.
There are those who want to discount the Christian role in fostering Social Justice. That’s unfortunate. To ignore calls for social justice in scripture is to understand only a portion of the good news.
Sadly, in the early 20th Century, there was a split within the Protestant movement that created two different camps. In the 19th century, the Protestant movement in America tended to be evangelical regardless of denomination. This movement brought about great changes in society, from public schools to working to abolish slavery. All kinds of parachurch organizations flourished, supporting ideas as diverse as women and worker’s rights, anti-child labor laws, temperance and such. Then, especially after the First World War, some of the groups became more radical while others called on the church to just focus on saving souls. The divorce that followed (and there were both camps within most denominations) led to the fundamentalists who emphasized personal salvation and others who mainly focused on improving society. Sadly, neither camp has the full gospel story.[5]
The strengths Foster outlines for this tradition includes an emphasis on the right ordering of society. This world isn’t the way God intended it to be and as followers of Jesus, we must do our part to foster a better world. Secondly, the call for social justice reminds us of our connection to all people. We are all created in God’s image and called to work for a vision in which everyone is treated well. All of us have the divine imprint stamped into our DNA. A concern for social justice bridges the divide between personal and social ethics. We can’t push for one and ignore the other. We are to treat our neighbor next door well, but that doesn’t mean we should ignore our neighbor a continent or two away. Concern for social justice provides relevance to love, saving it from sentimentality. It raises concerns for ecological issues as we seek peace or shalom for all of God’s creation. And finally, a concern for social justice keeps an impossible ideal (God making the world new) relevant. We can’t fulfill this desire by ourselves, we must depend on God.[6]
Of course, if we stick to just this stream of faith and ignore the others, there are dangers. We risk making social justice “an end in itself.” This can lead to burnout, while causing us to ignore God’s activity in other areas of our lives. Another danger is that we become so focused on the dream that we forget the necessary work within our hearts. We risk become legalists, or being judgmental against those who hold different views. And finally, the biggest danger is that we risk being coopted into the political agendas of others.[7] “If you are anti-abortion, you must be one of us…” or “if you’re pro-human rights, you must be one of us…” Sadly, this is how the world works. I think this is why Jesus said to the disciples when he sent them out into the world to be wise as serpents,[8] for he knew that his message could be used for other agendas.
We must see the importance of social justice through the scriptures. Our God advocates on behalf of those oppressed, from the Israelites in Egypt, to the concern of the prophets who cried out on behalf of the marginalized, to the New Testament Church and its concern for the well-being of all its members.[9] Those who call us to be concerned for others can’t easily be dismissed when seen in such a light.
John reminds us to do what is right. Prophets have been giving this message in Israel for ten centuries. Most were okay hearing such a message as long as it applied to someone else. But John’s message, as we see this morning, cuts across lines. He calls on all people to do what is right. Those with abundance are to give to those without. Those with physical power, are not to abuse, nor are those with financial power to be greedy. They are to live just and honorable lives. And so are we. Amen.
©2018
[1] A piece of this ad was shown with an ending message reminding us that Jesus is the reason for the season. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ccNzBhTcehs
[2] I wrote about this for the Presbyterian Outlook in 1999. See http://skidawaypres.org/pastor/?p=2178
[3] Jeremiah 31:33.
[4] This meditation was written by Kathy Terrion in the 1990s. She was a pastoral assistant at Mt. Olympus Presbyterian Church in Salt Lake City.
[5] This is a bit of a simplification. There were other issues, too, such as the rise of communism, the use of Biblical criticism, and the teachings on evolution. For more information see George M. Marsden, Fundamentalism and American Culture: The Shaping of Twentieth-Century Evangelicalism, 1870-1925 (London: Oxford Univ Press, 1980) and Understanding Fundamentalism and Evangelicalism (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1991). As for both camps lacking the full understanding of the gospel, see Jack Haberer, GodViews: The Convictions that Drive Us and Divide Us (Louisville, KY: Geneva Press, 2001).
[6] Foster, 176-178.
[7] Foster, 179-181.
[8] Matthew 10:16.
[9] As examples, see Exodus 2:24-25, Amos 1:6-8, Acts 6:1-2.
A version of this article of mine appeared in the Presbyterian Outlook, volume 181, #42 (December 20, 1999.
Jeff Garrison Photo taken in Cartersville, GA, September 2017
The elevator inside the over-sized Coca-Cola bottle whisks us up to the fourth floor. As we step out and back into the 1930’s, we are greeted by Harry. With his starched white uniform and hat neatly arranged, he stands at attention behind the soda counter. We’re invited to take a seat on one of the stools and introduce ourselves. This is going to be a communal experience. As we talk, Harry carefully squeezes an ounce of syrup into a six ounce glass and fills the glass with cold carbonated water. After stirring the concoction, he holds out the glass for us to sniff. The glass is cold and the black drink fizzles. It looks and smells like the real thing. Then, surprisingly he pours it down the drain. After getting us in the mood for a Coke, he says he’ll make us one for just a nickel. My throat is parched and I, along with the rest of my new found friends, search our pockets for the correct change. As the nickels drop on the counter, Harry shows us how to make a Cherry Coke and informs us of the various favors available. Again, we salivate over a cold glass only to have him pour it down the drain. We are told if we want our drink a particular flavor, we must pony up another penny. Again, we dig into our pockets. Most of us around the counter drop a penny down. Harry begins to collect our money but, upon examining the coins, rejects them. It’s the 1930’s and he’s not going to be fooled into taking counterfeit coins dated in the ‘90’s. We all watch as our drinks are poured down the drain. I’m about as parched as the desert around Las Vegas and ready to come over the counter and fix a glass myself when he informs us we can have all the Coca-Cola products we want on the third floor. We thank Harry for his entertainment and leave the soda fountain with tongues dragging the floor.
Lights blind you on the Las Vegas strip. Its two and a half miles of neon, free flowing drinks, scantly clad women with peacock feathers, exotic tigers, exploding volcanoes, battling pirate ships and the treasures of Egypt and Rome. All the glamour gathered in one place in order to seduce people from hard earned money. In the midst of this most hedonistic zone is the World of Coca-Cola, one of the few places along the strip without slot machines and cocktail waitresses. An old fashion Coke bottle, four stories high, serves as the entrance. They claim it to be the largest Coke bottle in the world, but it is overshadowed by glitter of the Boulevard and the MGM high rise directly behind it. I came down on the strip to ride the new spectacular roller coaster at New York New York (the name of a casino, not the Broadway play). High winds closed the coaster so I strolled up the strip looking for something else to pass the time. That’s when I saw the bottle of Coke. Not knowing that I was getting into, I crossed the Boulevard and entered the World of Coca-Cola for an educational evening. It wasn’t what I’d expected to find or do on the brightest street in America.
After leaving the Soda Fountain, I stop next door where a local garage is set up. It’s now the late 1950’s and, in real time, I would have been still riding in a car seat. Just inside the garage is the familiar looking red Coca-Cola cooler with its rounded edges and side mounted bottle opener. I’d seen many such coolers in my life and was amused to learn this one was built in 1957, the year of my birth. 1957 was also the year the interstate highway system was proposed. It seemed appropriate to have a garage in the World of Coca-Cola since the drink and the automobile are linked in our minds. Aunt Liddy had such a cooler in her store at the corner of Murdocksville and Juniper Lake Road when I was a kid. With my granddad, we’d stop at her store for a refreshing drink. We’d each pick an empty bottle from the bed of his pickup, in order to save the two cent deposit, and exchange it for a full bottle out of the cooler. Bottles of Coke were just ten cents apiece in those days. After paying, we’d pop the cap from our bottle and begin refreshing ourselves as we crawled back into the cab. Looking at the cooler, I realized with sadness this American icon has been replaced with glass fronted counters and canned drinks.
My throat is still parched as I leave the garage. I quickly found my way down to the fountain on the third floor. Coke products are flowing freely and we are told we could drink till to heart’s content. I do. First, a cold glass of Coca-Cola, the real thing, and then a sampling of several other drinks they market in other parts of the world. Finally, I go back to the real thing in order to cleanse my mouth of some gingerly tasting drink from India.
There are also two theaters on this floor. In one, I learn about Coca-Cola’s advertising history. I hadn’t realized the jolly old man in red we know as Santa Claus is a trademark of Coca-Cola. This familiar Santa was introduced in the 1920’s to sell a soft drink. As I considered just how well-known this version of Saint Nicholas happens to be, I’m appalled. Could one corporation control our imaginations to the point where they invented the modern Santa? This became even more frightening when I think about how, for many people, Santa has become a model for God. In a round about way, the Coca-Cola Corporation has the power to influence theology.
On the second screen, I watched the development of Coca-Cola advertising on television. I find myself singing familiar jingles and am shocked to realize how many have remain etched in my brain for decades. My favorite is the kid who comes up to a football player, Mean Joe Green, following a tough game. Tired and sweaty, Mean Joe doesn’t have time to be bothered. A look of rejection comes over the kid, but he offers his Coke anyway. Mean Joe accepts and the audience feel the relief that comes to his throat as he chugs down the drink. As the rejected kid walks away, Mean Joe strips his jersey off and tosses it to him. A big grin comes over the kid’s face. “Gee thanks,” he says as he catches the jersey. There is a positive message in this ad. The generosity of a young boy has the power to change someone as tough as Mean Joe Green. Such generosity could also change the world, provided one has a Coca-Cola to offer. Another commercial illustrated this point. Filmed on a hill in Italy in the mid-1970s, hundreds of people from all over the world, clothed in native dress, sing about offering the world a Coke. While selling its product, this commercial also reminds us how generosity could create a better world. The commercial was introduced about the time I graduated from high school. I was working in a grocery store at the time and had been given a Coca-Cola tee shirt with the products name written in a dozen languages on it. Wearing the tee shirt, I felt as if I was a part of a movement. With the optimism of those hundreds of people gathered on that hill singing, we could change the world for the better. All we needed were a few billion bottles of Coke.
I leave the “World of Coca-Cola” with mixed feelings. I am upset to learn a corporation created the modern Santa. This is almost as disappointing as when I learned, after having kids of my own, that Santa doesn’t exist. However, I also find myself admiring the work of Coca-Cola as I recall the positive message of some of their commercials as well as their willingness to take on Las Vegas. In the middle of the Strip, sexually charged and well lubricated with booze, they proclaim their product as “the real thing.” Not only do I wish the church could be so bold, I also find myself envious of Harry, the soda jerk. Harry was able to make me thirst for a cold glass of dark syrupy water. Wouldn’t it be wonderful, I think, if sermons made congregations that thirsty for the one who gives everlasting refreshment?
One of the keys to Coca-Cola’s success is the way they tie their advertising to our lives and dreams. The gathering of small town folk around the soda fountain, the lure of the automobile, as well as our desire for peace and the love of Jolly Old St. Nick are all connected to the refreshment potential of cold bottle of pop. The goal of Christian proclamation is to make similar links between Jesus Christ and our every day lives. There is a lot we can learn.
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For a more comprehensive look at Coca Cola and its Christmas branding, click here.
Joseph D. Small, Flawed Church, Faithful God: A Reformed Ecclesiology for the Real World (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2018), 242 pages including indexes and bibliography.
It has been suggested that ecclesiology, the doctrine of the church, is the weak link in Reformed Theology. The Reformed Tradition’s strength is found in a strong doctrine of God, a realistic understanding of the human condition, and the role of Christ in mediating the divide that exists between God and humanity. Doctrines dealing with God’s Spirit and with the institution of the church appear less well developed. John Calvin, in his Institutes of the Christian Religion, spends the least amount of time writing about the church. He includes it in his shortest volume, number 4, where he also deals with civil government and the sacraments. Charles Hodge, the 19th Century American theologian, never completed the fourth volume of his systematic theology. It was to be on the church. In Flawed Church, Faithful God, Joseph Small, the former director of Theology and Worship for the Presbyterian Church (USA), has made a commendable effort to develop a better understanding of Reformed ecclesiology.
The title captures the thrust of this book. The church isn’t perfect, it never has been and, as long as it exists on earth, it never will be. But God is perfect. Of course, there is much more to this book.
Small begins his investigation of the church making the case of its necessity even though it is a flawed human institution. Quoting Calvin, the church is important because it is our “common mother,” and “there is no other way to enter into life.” (2). He discusses what the church is including comments on how theologians since Augustine have attempted to “redeem” the church by dividing it into the two parts: visible and invisible. Calvin acknowledged our human limitation to distinguish between those who belong to each part, so he and others emphasized the church we know, the visible church. However, in the 19th century, theologians such as Friedrich Schleiermacher and Abraham Kuyper lead a new interpretation of this division, so that today, most see the “invisible church” as the body of Christ. This has its consequences such as loss of loyalty to particular congregations and denominations. (15) While Small acknowledges the church has never been “one,” he does acknowledge that within the diversity of the church, there is a unity within a “confession of the grace of the Lord Jesus Christ, the love of God, and the communion of the Holy Spirit.” (16). Small goes on to discuss our approach of church within the “market forces” of today’s world in which the church is often seen as a volunteer organization among many and is treated as a commodity. Today’s churches market themselves as much as any secular organization, highlighting what is unique about each, a stunning reversal of Paul’s proclamation that we proclaim not ourselves, but Jesus Christ. (2 Corinthians 4:5, pages 18-20). These modern trends concern Paul, who makes the case that we need to explore the church as it is and as it is called to be.
After making the case for the study of the church, Small delves into chapters on what the church believes, the role of word and sacrament, and the communion of the Holy Spirit. I especially appreciated his chapter on “Body Language” in which he explores Paul’s writings on the meaning of the church as the “body of Christ.” Small notes that his powerful metaphor has become a “cliché.” (87). Paul wasn’t saying that the church was like the body of Christ, but that the church was the body of Christ. (88). I found Small’s discussion of body and the gifts of the Spirit to be especially helpful.
In his chapter on “The People of God,” Small details the church relationship to the Old Testament and to the Jewish people. Again, this is a helpful chapter in which we are reminded of our common heritage. Understanding this background shows the error of the antisemitism of the past, especially where the Jewish people are blamed for Christ’s death (we are all to blame).
Small concludes his book discussion with the hope for the church or the future. While the church depends on hope grounded in the divine and God’s Spirit in our life and future, such hope is not passive, but active. Understanding God’s involvement within the church provides us the confidence to take risks as we strive to strengthen and grow the church.
There is much in this book from which a preacher can draw. I’m sure the next time I preach on Paul’s letters (where he develops his theology of the church around the image of the body), or preach on the work of the Holy Spirit, or on the sacraments, I will pull out this book for further study. At one point, Small ponders the difference between asking, “What Would Jesus Do?” and “What is Christ Doing?” (112) Certainly the latter requires us to be more engaged in God’s work in the world which we do through the church.
I was scheduled to preach at an anniversary service for a church in Wilmington, North Carolina, on Sunday, September 23. Unfortunately, I was not able to make it as all the roads had flooded thanks to hurricane Florence. Furthermore, the church had cancelled the service. Since I already had my pulpit covered, I decided to use the time to take off an explore, via kayak, the north end of Cumberland Island. In the recent issue of The Skinnie, I tell about my experiences there. They’ve published a number of my writings, but this time used only a few photos. Below are a sampling of other photos from that wonderful trip.
Click here to read more about the trip. My article begins on page 8.
Paddling over to Cumberland Island
Ruined boathouse near Plum Orchard (with a wild horse)
Plum Orchard
Preparing coffee
African Baptist Church where the Kennedy wedding took place
Outside the African Baptist Church
The Beach on Cumberland Island
Roads on the island
Late in the day
Setting sun
Rising sun on paddle back to mainland
Submarine dry dock appearing “Noah Ark-like” in the morning light
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
Matthew 1:18-25
December 9, 2018
This Advent and Christmas season we’re exploring seasonal scripture passages through the lens of various traditions in which we encounter and respond to God. As I pointed out last week, the way we experience and respond to God are not the same. We started with Mary and the Contemplative tradition. This week we’re going to look at her husband, Joseph and the Holiness tradition.
For Presbyterians, a church within the Reformed Tradition which emphasizes on the sovereignty of God and human sinfulness, holiness might seem a stretch. I was reminded of this earlier in the week when I read an article recommended by David Brooks of the New York Times and author of The Road to Character. The article was based on a psychology study from Great Britain that highlighted what I might call “the roots of our depravity.”[1] Had it been a theology article, it might have ended with hope. Despite our failings, God hasn’t given up on us—that’s the good news of Christmas. Instead, the article was a little bleak. That said, holiness is still our aim.[2] But we have a ways to go.
The six streams or traditions we are exploring this season are from Richard Foster’s book, Streams of Living Water: Celebrating the Great Traditions of the Christian Faith.[3] While not all traditions apply totally to us—and I’m sure there are very few here who feel exceptionally holy—it’s important to understand that all of these streams have Biblical foundations. Even if we might not draw heavily from one of these streams, we can learn from them. Our Scripture for today’s sermon is the Christmas narrative in Matthew’s gospel. Read Matthew 1:18-25. 
There was a youth group once doing a Christmas pageant. These were older kids who had not learned their lines so there was a lot of improvising. On the day of the pageant, Joseph with his pregnant wife, Mary, a pillow stuffed under her dress, stumbles up to the door of an inn. There was a sign that clearly said, “No Vacancy.” Joseph knocks anyway. A rude innkeeper barges out, points to the sign, and asks, “Can’t you read.” “Yes,” Joseph says, “I can read, but we are so desperate. Can’t you see that my wife is pregnant?” “Well, that’s not my fault,” the rude innkeeper shouts. “Well, it ain’t mine, either.” Joseph responds.
Actually, Joseph is the quiet one. In scripture, he’s not given any lines, including a snarky one like the improvising Joseph in the pageant used. Of course, he had to ask if there was a vacancy, but we’re not provided with the words of his question. We’re not told about what he said to the magi or the shepherds, although we can assume he talked to them. Instead, in Luke’s gospel, he’s shown leading leads Mary to Bethlehem. Later in Matthew’s gospel, when God speaks to him through a dream, warning him of Herod’s plan to kill baby boys, Joseph gathers his wife and child and flees to Egypt, beyond Herod’s reign. Although Joseph makes numerous appearances early in the Gospels of Matthew and Luke, and is mentioned in Mark’s gospel, he never speaks.[4] More importantly than speaking, Joseph listens, and when he hears God’s voice, he acts. As we all know, actions speak louder than words. If we are full of praise for God and treat others with contempt, we’re not living a holy life. We’re hypocrites.
Back to Joseph. He becomes a lost character in the drama around Jesus’ birth. In a sense, he’s only the stepfather of Jesus. Yet, he truly cares for the son entrusted to him. In the gospel of Luke, we see Joseph being amazed at the prophecies concerning Jesus following his birth.[5] He beams with pride. We often think about the task God assigned Mary and are amazed that such a young woman could be so competent. But Joseph also has an important task: keeping his family safe from Herod’s henchmen and helping Mary search for the lost Jesus in the temple. Interestingly, every glimpse of Jesus as a child, Joseph is present. But Jesus grows up and Joseph drops out of history. Did he die? Was he left behind to keep the family’s carpentry business going? We don’t know.
But Joseph plays an important role in Jesus’ birth and early life for he’s a vehicle through whom God communicates. He’s the earthly father who looks out for Jesus’ welfare and raises him safely to adulthood. Joseph is an example of someone seeking God’s will, and for that reason he’s an important person for us to study and learn from and see what we might gleam from his struggles.
Can you imagine the conversation Mary had with Joseph: “Do what? You’re what? By whom? How?” The news came as a surprise. The woman he was engaged was pregnant and he wasn’t the father. Matthew doesn’t tell us Mary’s side of the story, only Joseph’s. Taking Matthew’s account at face value and not peeking over into Luke’s gospel, we cannot be sure if Mary knew the divine nature of her pregnancy at the time she tells Joseph about her condition. Joseph only learns about the divine nature of Jesus from a dream.
For a minute, go back before that dream. Think of how you would feel if your fiancé dropped such a bombshell… If we can put ourselves into such a position, we might begin to get a sense of the hurt and humiliation Joseph must of felt.
Even though Joseph probably felt about as tall as an ant when he received the news, he’s still a good man. Scripture tells us that Joseph didn’t want to publicly humiliate Mary by exposing her pregnancy—an action that might have resulted in her death by stoning—as is still sometimes done in that part of the world. Yet, if Mary was exposed, then people would feel sorry for poor Joseph, who had been wronged. They might even be those willing to set him up with their own daughters. But Joseph was a man of grace. Instead of taking the route of vindication, Joseph swallows his pride and decides to take care of things discreetly so as not to embarrass or endanger Mary.
The insight we have of Joseph’s thinking about how to respond to this situation shows us that holiness isn’t just abiding by the law. For the law provided Joseph a way out. His willingness to “do the right thing” and protect Mary is an indication of his holiness. Instead of following the law to the letter, Joseph wants to do what was right and best for all involved.[6]
Holiness, as defined by Richard Foster, isn’t perfection. Perfectionism along with works-righteousness are some of the dangers of over-emphasizing this tradition.[7] Instead, it’s doing the right thing. It’s developing habits that foster virtue. It isn’t just about obeying rules and following regulations, but about having the right attitude in our heart that guides us to do what’s right. “A holy life simply is a life that works,” according to Foster[8]
We foster a holy life when we strive to develop a deeper relationship with our Savior. It’s been said that the “goal of the Christian life is not simply to get into heaven, but to get heaven into us.”[9] Striving for Holinesses helps develop character. As we improve our spiritual life, the results will be seen by those who are around us and the world will become a better place. So it’s not just about trying to stay off Santa’s bad list, it’s about becoming there best person we can as we allow Christ to redirect our hearts. To recall a theme of the late President Bush, we are to be one of those “1000 points of light” shinning in the world.
There are a number of denominations that refer to themselves as “holiness,” most of whom came out of the Methodist tradition in the 19th and early 20th Centuries. However, despite my early comments to the contrary, there was also a group within the Reformed tradition that placed a lot of emphasis on holiness: the Puritans. They emphasized training, guarding the heart, rooting out evil and replacing it with goodness, and developing virtuous habits.[10] Puritans were known to keep journals to help them along this tasks and interestingly, such journals, have been suggested to being the forerunner to the modern novel.
We are given no insight into how Joseph developed his holy life, but there are some ways we can gleam truth from this stream within the Christian faith. First of all, we must train ourselves and build up the spiritual resources necessary so that when the moment arises, we will do what’s right. If we struggle with pride, we need to immerse ourselves in service. If we lack hope, we need to develop a prayer life that draws us into the life of God. If we obsess over possessions, we should fast and learn to do without. If we lack faith, we should worship and focus on what our God has done for us in the past as we anticipate what God is doing in the present and future. With other struggles, we should seek out friends and mentors to be accountability partners. And finally, we must remember that we are not perfect and when we fail, we need to embrace the forgiveness offered by Jesus, brush ourselves off, and get up and start over.[11]
Ultimately, we should remember that while we will never be completely holy (or sanctified) in this life, [12] we follow one who is holy. Jesus is holy. As the Bible says, God is purifying us.[13] One day, not in this life, we will be perfected, and for that we should rejoice. Until then, we live in faith.
As for what we can learn from Joseph… Listen to God and act on what we are told, actions are more important than speaking. Amen.
©2018
[1] https://aeon.co/ideas/the-bad-news-on-human-nature-in-10-findings-from-psychology
[2] Matthew 5:48.
[3] Richard Foster, Streams of Living Water: Celebrating the Great Traditions of the Christian Faith (New York: HarpersCollins, 1988). The idea for this series came from Peter Hoytema, “Six Biblical Characters, Six Traditions of Faith” Reformed Worship #65 (September 2002).
[4] In addition to his appearance in the opening chapters of Matthew and Luke, Joseph is identified as a carpenter in Mark 6:3.
[5] Luke 2:33.
[6] See Raymond E. Brown, The Birth of the Messiah (1977, New York: Doubleday, 1993), 125-128 and especially 127c.
[7] Foster lists pitfalls for each of the Streams. Those for holiness include legalism, Pelagianism (attempting to earn grace), and perfectionism. Foster, 91-94.
[8] Foster, 82.
[9] Foster, 85.
[10] Foster, 86.
[11] Foster, 95-96.
[12] Presbyterian Church, USA, Book of Confessions, Westminster Confession of Faith, 6.076
[13] Zechariah 13:9, Malachi 3:2, 1 Peter 1:7, and Revelation 3:18.
Harrison Scott Key, Congratulations, Who Are You Again? A Memoir (New York: Harpers, 2018) , 347 pages including five appendices and no illustrations except an ink figure of a dog drawn by Beetle, the author’s daughter, while I waited for him to sign my book.
Over the years I have enjoyed reading memoirs by authors as I learn how they approach the craft and gleam advice for myself. Annie Dillard’s The Writing Life, Eudora Welty,’s One’s Writer’s Beginning, Robert Laxalt’s, Travels with My Royal: A Memoir of the Writing Life, and Dee Brown’s When the Century was Young are books that come to mind. I’ve also read many “how-to” books by authors who tell us how to approach the craft. Without looking at my shelf, I can recall Stephen King, On Writing; William Zinsser, On Writing Well; Ray Bradbury, Zen and the Art of Writing; and John McPhee, Draft #4. All these authors of memoirs and how-to books have an impressive list of publications under their belts when they sat down to give advice on writing. Harrison Scott Key decided he’d write his how-to memoir immediately following the publication of his first book. But then, his first book won the Thurber Prize. The real question is “why, after having read so many books on the topic, I haven’t published a best seller?” I’m not going to answer that and will stick to critiquing Mr. Key’s book.
I enjoyed Congratulations, Who Are You Again? even though I am not sure I would have called this a memoir. I’m not sure what it is. Part of the book reads like a “how-to” manual for becoming famous and having a best seller. Part of the book is the author’s quest to discover his life’s purpose as he charges through much of his 20s and 30s like Don Quixote. Part of this book appears to be a sure-fire way to receive a summons to divorce court. Another part of this book is Mr. Key’s depository for lists. And just in case you didn’t have your fill of lists within the text, Key fills his appendices with lists. What is it about all these lists? I was wondering why he didn’t include a grocery list, but concluded that maybe his wife, out of gratitude for now having more than one toilet in the house, has volunteered to shop for the family. But my hunch is that Mr Key’s lists are actually passwords. What a better way to keep them close at hand than to have a book he can pull off his shelf and quickly recall his password for Facebook or Twitter or maybe even First Chatham Bank.
And, one final “what is it…” What is it about depressed people and pelicans? Key speaks of his interest in these “freakish and ungainly” birds while depressed. Personally, I find pelicans graceful. A former professor of mine, Donald McCullough, while dealing with depression, actually published a book titled The Wisdom of Pelicans. Like my former professor, I find pelicans graceful, not freakish. I’m not sure what’s wrong with Mr. Key. If pelicans are so depressing, maybe I should give up watching the birds. But that sounds too depressing.
That said, this is a funny book. And writing a funny book is one of Mr. Key’s life goals. He’s now achieved this goal twice, first with The World’s Largest Man, and now with Congratulations. Although Key acknowledges his indebtedness to a host of authors, he never mentioned the fabulous 1940 movie, “Sullivan’s Travels,” staring Joel McCrea and Veronica Lake. In “Sullivan’s Travels,” McCrea plays a movie producer who wants to make a movie about the seriousness of the Great Depression in order to move people to respond in compassion. But after a misfortune, he has an epiphany and realizes people also need to laugh. Sullivan learns this wisdom after at the end of the film. Key comes this conclusion on page 49.
My third complaint about Key’s writing (In case you weren’t keeping count: #1: Lists. #2: Rude remarks about pelicans) is his overuse of misdirects. Key will begin describing the great things that follow his things such as being published. Following such good news, Key rambles on about all the invitations to TV and radio shows for him to make an appearance. He seems to have a healthy crush on NPR’s Terry Gross. Others ask him to give keynote speeches. He’s also mugged by admirers on Savannah’s streets. Just when the reader is about to believe that there is a god who rewards hard work, the reader is redirected into what really happened. Usually nothing. The exception is an actual mugging on Savannah’s streets. Actually, Key never wrote about being mugged, but it could happen. These redirects were funny the first 57 times this reader fell for this comic technique, but the 58th time was just too much. As I was coming to the end of the book, I thought that if there was one more redirect, I’d rip the book apart and toss it out the window. Thankfully, being near the end, I was reading lists and it’s pretty hard to redirect a reader from one list to another. Who knew lists could be funny?
Complaints aside, I thoroughly enjoyed this book and laughed a lot. My biggest take-away from Mr. Key is that writing is like giving birth. I’ve heard that before, but Key attaches his unique twist that refreshes this platitude: “Writing is like giving birth, and it is, it is just like giving birth, in the Middle Ages, when all the babies died.” (114). Writing is hard work, and such hard work in this case produces a book that the reader can easily read and enjoy.
And one final comment for clarification. I am not the minister who accosted Keys in a restaurant asking to be included in his next book. Such a request is foolish for if Keys says the things he does about his wife and children, whom he obviously adores, what would he say about a coveting minister. Of course, the minister did find himself in the book, only he’s not identified. What fun is that?
A blessing for Walt and Carol
Walt and Carol, when you first came here,
I am sure you had no idea what this place would hold:
the joy and laughter,
the celebration of holidays,
the seriousness of the study of God’s word,
the terms both of you served on Session,
the rotation of ministers in the pulpit,
and the love around the table during fellowship dinners
When you first came here in search of community,
you never knew all this place would hold:
the sadness, grief and tears
shed during funerals and memorial services,
the concern experienced over terrorist attacks
and violence on our streets,
the ups and downs of the economy,
along with your own struggles with health and wellness.
I pray that through thick and thin,
this has been a sacred place filled with God’s word and loving friends,
and its memory will forever be a part of you.
And now, as you leave us to be closer to your children in California,
know that the God who brought you here
is still with you as you set your face toward a new destination.
God will continue to be with you
until the shadows no longer lengthen
and your earthly breath ceases;
then you’ll be called into your eternal home
where, at some point, we’ll all join you,
at that place where there will be no more grief and loss
just joy.
Until then, be well and go with our blessings.
-Jeff Garrison
Presented to them at the end of worship on December 2, 2018
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
December 2, 2018
Luke 1:46-55
The sanctuary at Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church is magical this time of the year. I hope you have a chance, when driving by at night, to enjoy our trees as they shine out into the darkness. Remember, as followers of Jesus, we too are to shine the light of hope and love into a dark world. Better yet, I invite you worship with us this season and experience that love.
As a child, the best thing about the Christmas tree were the presents sitting underneath. As Christmas approached, more presents were added. Anticipation rose. Each of the wrapped boxes contained a present loving given by a parent, grandparent, or child. They were all different, but what was important were the gifts inside and the thoughts of the person who gave the gift.
Big gifts, small gifts, gifts elegantly wrapped, they all help build the anticipation of the season. Seeing these gifts of different sizes reminds me of something that’s important. As there are a multitude of gifts under the tree that are all different, all of us experience and respond to God’s great gift of Jesus Christ differently.
In my preaching this Advent and Christmas season, we’re going to explore the different ways we experience and respond to God’s as we look at the Biblical encounters with the Christ-child.
It doesn’t matter that they were different. All these ways are valid ways of experiencing God. Each way responds to a different tradition within the Christian family. Mary’s contemplative approach, Joseph’s interest in holiness, John the Baptist’s call to Social Justice, the shepherd’s charismatic experience, Jesus bringing us the incarnation of God, and the Magi’s evangelical approach.
All these traditions together help make up a complex church centered on Jesus in the manager. My question to each of you, this season, is how do you experience and respond to God? I hope you join us here at Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church as we embark on this Advent Journey.[1]
Today we are going to consider Mary and what we might learn from the contemplative tradition. The six traditions of the Christian faith that we will explore this Advent and Christmas season are outlined in Richard Foster’s book, Streams of Living Water,[2] which I recommend. Today’s text will be Mary’s song, sung during her pregnancy with Jesus. Read Luke 1:46-56.
This is going to be a different type of sermon series for me. While I will be using traditional Advent and Christmas scripture passages, I will do so through the lens of various traditions found within the larger church. I should state up from that this was not something I came up on totally by myself. This idea of a sermon series based on the traditions of the church as outlined in Richard Foster’s Streams of Living Water came from a friend. Peter Hoytema, a former classmate of mine and a pastor in Ontario, presented this idea the journal, Reformed Worship.[3]
One of the reasons I was drawn to this idea of looking at the different traditions of the Christian faith through the lens of those who encountered the Christ Child, is that—too often—we think our experience is the only or the right way. But there’s a problem with this approach. First of all, it’s not even Biblical. If we believe we have the only way to encounter God, we limit God. Jack Haberer, in his book GodViews, makes the point that there are a lot of ways to encounter, worship, and respond to God. Each have Biblical support. When we limit ourselves to just one or two ways, our spirituality is impoverished. It takes all types. Just because someone else experiences God differently, shouldn’t be threatening to us. Instead, embrace it as an opportunity for us to learn about a God who is so much more than us.[4] Too often the church has tried to limit diversity, yet just by looking at our world we should understand that God delights in diversity.
When we can accept others, we participate in Jesus’ call to be peacemakers. And this Christmas season, the world needs a little more peace. Don’t you agree?
So we begin with the contemplative stream. What is it, you might wonder? It sounds a lot like navel gazing, doesn’t it? And that’s one of the dangers. As the old cliché goes, we can become so heavenly minded that we have no earthly value. But when we over-emphasize one tradition, we risking misusing it.[5]
The contemplative stream is grounded in a pray-filled life that, as Foster writes, “is the steady gaze of the soul upon the God who loves us.”[6] The contemplative stream calls us into deep prayer. We don’t just ask God for stuff, but we listen, meditate, and reflect on God’s love, peace, and beauty. It’s a life that empties itself as it seeks to be filled with God-given fire, wisdom, and transformation. And, of course, such blessings are not just for the delight of the contemplative, they are gifts that can be used within the community and which can bring hope into the world.[7]
So let’s think about Mary as an example of how a contemplative life can bring us closer to God and help us be a part of God’s work in the world. 
Mary wasn’t rich or famous or powerful or popular. According to worldly standards, she was the most unlikely candidate to be the mother of Jesus, the mother of God. She was young and unmarried, probably poor, from a second rate town in an obscure corner of the world. As far as we know, she had no education and there was no royalty within her blood. Nor did Mary seek fame. Instead, she was absolutely dependent on others. She was dependent upon her father to find her a husband and then would be dependent upon her husband to provide for her and her children. Later in life, she’d be dependent upon her children. She had no control over her life.
Mary was just a poor women, like 1000s of other poor women, in a dirt-poor town in an obscure providence of the Roman Empire. She was just like 1000s of other women, except she was chosen to bear the Son of God. It almost sounds like a fairy tale princess story, does it? Yes, it sounds like a fairy tale until we learn that Mary never inherits a castle. Instead, her story goes downhill. She gives birth to her son in a stable, the family flees to Egypt where they live as political refugees, and three decades later she’s there by the cross watching her son die.[8] She is a woman of sorrow, yet despite the sadness she experienced, her song is one of the most beautiful in scripture.
Mary realizes her position. She’s a lowly servant of God and any honor she has is due to God’s action within her life. Everything is God’s doing, not hers. She is not the cause of redemption; she’s just a vessel God using to bring the Savior into the world. Mary didn’t go around boasting of her accomplishments and lining up book deals; she isn’t saying, “look at me, I’m the mother of God.” Instead, as Luke tells us at the end of the Christmas narrative, Mary pondered all that had happened in her heart.[9] She’s the model of true humility. As a contemplative, her life was directed toward God who gave her the strength to raise her son.
Mary’s song gives us an insight into how God operates. God chose her, an unlikely candidate, to be Jesus’ mother. God lifts up the lowly while pronouncing judgment upon the powerful. Those who are not willing to acknowledge God’s sovereignty are not going to find salvation in Jesus Christ. They’ll be too busy looking out for themselves and pretending their own resources are going to save. They don’t realize the need for a Savior.
All of us need to learn to depend upon God and, by doing so, we can make Mary’s song our own. Can we prescribe all our praise to God? (Or, do we want to save a little for ourselves?) Can we acknowledge God’s power and sovereignty in this world? (Or, do we believe in our individual grandeur?)
Mary’s song provides us a model of prayer. If Mary, a woman of sorrow, can sing such a song, why can’t we? In all we do, we need to see how God is working in our lives and then give thanks. We need to take Paul seriously when he says to pray without ceasing.[10]
Some of you may be true contemplatives, talking to God as you take walks, delighting in God’s beauty around us, and having a fixed time to reflect on God’s word. Mary, we can conclude from the passage we heard this morning, was, as one commentator noted, “Steeped in the poetical literature of her nation, and accordingly her hymn also bears the unmistakable signs of it.”[11] In other words, “Mary knew her Bible and how to apply it to what God was and is doing in the world.”
In ages past, contemplatives were often the type of people who gave up everything and moved into the wilderness, but that’s not what this tradition is really about. If, through your prayer life and your study and your quiet time, you are able to connect with God, I encourage you to keep up the good work.
However, if the contemplative practice is foreign or difficult for you, that’s okay. There are other ways to connect and respond to God as we will see over the next five weeks.[12] But let’s also take what we can from this tradition. Try praying through the Psalms. Or practice intentional reading of a passage of Scripture several times, pausing in-between each reading to ask God to open up your mind to his will and then spend a few minutes in silence before returning and rereading the same passage. Do this a few times and see if God is speaking to you through your chosen passage.[13] Or, read devotionals. Advent is a good season to make devotional reading a habit. If you’re looking for a good devotional booklet that’s free and online, check out my e-news from yesterday where I had a link to a devotional from the community at Pittsburgh Theological Seminary.[14] 
In writing about the contemplative life, Thomas Merton, an American mystic, notes how none of us want to be beginners, but we must convinced we will never be anything but a beginner when it comes to this life.[15] But to a true contemplative, that’s okay, because such a person have grounded their being within the life of God. They know it’s not about them, it’s about God. Because Mary was in tuned to God’s action in her life, she was able to serve in a marvelous way. While none of us will have that opportunity, all of us can be of benefit to God’s Kingdom when we open ourselves up to God’s call. Amen.
©2018
[1] This first part of the sermon was videotaped with the Christmas tree as a background. The video will also be used to promote this season’s sermon series.
[2] Richard J. Foster, Streams of Living Water: Celebrating the Great Traditions of the Church, (New York: HarpersCollins, 1998).
[3] Peter Hoytema, “Six Biblical Characters, Six Traditions of Faith” Reformed Worship #65 (September 2002).
[4] Jack Haberer, GodViews: The Convictions that Drive Us and Divide Us (Louisville, KY: Geneva Press, 2001).
[5] Foster also recognizes the dangers of each stream. The contemplative streams has four dangers: 1. Tendency to separate faith from ordinary life, 2.. Asceticism (or focusing too much on God and on pressing social issues), 4. Tendency to devalue intellectual efforts, 4. Tendency to neglect the community of faith. Foster, 53-56.
[6] Foster, 49.
[7] Foster, 48-51.
[8] See John 19:26.
[9] Luke 2:19
[10] 1 Thessalonians 5:17.
[11] Norval Geldenhuys, The Gospel of Luke, (Grand Rapids: Eerdman, 1982), 85.
[12] The six traditions we’ll explore are the contemplative, holiness, social justice, charismatic, incarnational, and evangelical.
[13] This ancient practice (goes back to the 6th Century) is known as Lectio Divina (Divine Reading). See https://www.contemplativeoutreach.org/category/category/lectio-divina
[14] https://www.pts.edu/devotional_1
[15] Thomas Merton, Contemplative Prayer, (Garden City, NY: ?image Book/Doubleday, 1969), 37.
Worship Symposium Setting overlooking Tahoe
I haven’t written anything about my travels West in late September and early October. We flew into Las Vegas and drove up for a few days in Cedar City, Utah, where we saw many friends and spent time with our son and his family. Then we drove across Nevada, stopping and spending a couple of nights in Virginia City, Nevada before going on to Zephyr Point Presbyterian Conference Center where I attended a seminar on multi-sensory worship. Then, as the story below describes, we drove back to Las Vegas for our flight home. I love traveling across the vastness of the American West.
Fall colors in the Spooner Summit area
We leave Zephyr Point on Lake Tahoe late in the morning under a damp gray sky, heading south along the lake shore. Just before entering the city of South Lake Tahoe, we turn onto the Kingsbury Grade. The road twists down the eastern slope of the Sierras, leaving behind the tall pines as we enter into valley of sagebrush. Bands of rain from what had been Hurricane Rosa had move through, leaving the pavement wet. At Gardnerville, we headed south on US 395. It’s not the direct route to Las Vegas, but giving that we have a day and a half before catching a flight, it’s the route I chose. We gas up, but we’re not really hungry so we set our sights on Walker or Bridgeport for a late lunch stop. We pass Topaz Lake and enter California. The road parallel’s the Walker River. The country is wide open and the sagebrush glistens from the rain. We pass a sign for Monitor Pass and the turn-off for California 88. I’d driven that road before. In a way, this is haunted land. As the highway winds through the valley, the river off to our left, there are many. There are many charred acres from recent fires and some of the campsites along the river have been closed due to damage. It’s ironic, as I turn on my windshield wipers frequently as we pass through rain bands, to think of how this area has been in such a drought and have experienced horrific fires over the past decade. Twenty-some miles after the turn-off for Monitor Pass, we arrive at the junction for Sonora Pass. The Sierras are now closer, towering over us to our right. I’ve taken that road, too, a favorite pass over the Sierras. Highway 395 turns sharply to the southwest and works its way up over Devils Gate (one of many passes with this name in the American West).
Bridgeport Inn
We continue on to Bridgeport, a western cow town sitting in the afternoon shadow of the Sierras. There we stop for lunch at the old Bridgeport Inn which sits next to the highway. The inn, with a downstairs dining area and rooms upstairs, has been around for a while, having started as a stagecoach stop in 1877. Sitting by a window, we watch what little traffic there is pass by on this dreary and rainy day, as we enjoy our sandwiches and listen to a man at the bar try to arrange a pickup of his brother’s wrecked motorcycle. Forty-five minutes later, we’re back on the road, heading south. We pass the turn-off for Bodie, an old mining town that sits high up in the mountains to the east, just west of the Nevada border. I’d like to revisit the town, but there’s not enough time and the rain would make it pretty miserable.
Mono Lake from Conway Summit
View from Conway Summit
At Conway Summit, I pull off the road and get out in the misty rain, enjoying the cool damp air that enhances the smell of sage. The clouds pushing through Sierras keep the light constantly changing, providing unique views. Below us is Mono Lake. Like man lakes in the Great Basin, it has no natural outlet as the water the flows into the lake is left to evaporate as it does in the Great Salt Lake to the east and Pyramid Lake to the north. With no natural outlet for the water to flow, the water evaporates and leaves behind a concentration of minerals.
After a few minutes of walking around, I continue driving on toward Mono Lake. We stop at the new museum on the north side of Lee Vining. I don’t think this was here the last time I was here. Afterwards, we drive through town and I pass the western turn-off for California 120, which winds up Tioga Pass and into Tuolumne Meadows. It’s one of my favorite drives and it has been 20 years since I last made the drive after having completed hiking the John Muir Trail. But there is no time today, so I continue south and five miles beyond the town, turn east on California 120.
South Tufa Area, looking west toward the Sierras
At the South Tufa area, we stop and take the mile long hike through some of the unique tufas, which have been created by calcium springs bubbling up in the alkaline water of the lake. The resulting reaction creates limestone sculptures under water. The tufas become visible when the water level drops, exposing the torturous sculptures.
South Tufa Area, looking east (notice rainbow in middle of photo)
For much of the last 100 years, the water level has dropped even more dramatically, as the streams flowing into the lake have been tapped to quench the thirst of Southern California. In the mid-1990s, after years of court battles, environmentalist won a lawsuit that has forced Southern California to restore some of the water coming into Mono Lake so that the eco-system can remain in tack. This is an important rest stop for migrating birds that feed on the brine shrimp that flourish in the water and the brine flies that hover around the edge of the beach. As we walk around the tufa field, the clouds begin to break up and with the sun dropping in the east, partial rainbows are seen in the east.
Leaving the tufas and the lake behind, we continued west on California 120, passing the Mono Craters. This small range is considered one of the newest mountain ranges in the world and volcanic activity here has been as recent as 300 years ago. The highway runs through Inyo National Forest, passing young Jeffrey Pines as the more mature trees were cut and transported to Bodie where the timber were used to build the town and to sure up the mines. This road has the feel of a roller coaster with many short rises and drops that gives my gut the sensation of rising above the car as it the vehicle drops. Highway 120 comes to an end shortly after Benton Hot Springs. This small town was once a retreat for miners, and there’s still a small rustic resort here. As daylight is waning, there is no time to stop, but in the past I have spent time here enjoying a nice soak. Instead, we take a left, turning onto US 6, and begin climbing over Montgomery Pass back into Nevada. As we climb, I notice the cuts where the old Carson and Colorado Railroad once ran. This line was scheduled to be abandoned in 1942, but after Pearl Harbor it received a short reprieve as the government felt the country could use it as a north-south rail line safely east of the Sierras if the Japanese attacked the west coast. After the war, the line was abandoned. The sun begins dropping behind Boundary Peak and the White Mountains.
The highway merges with US 95, which runs from Reno to Las Vegas. This is barren country and radio stations are few and far between. Finally, up above next to Sawtooth Mountain, we can make out the lights of Tonopah. In 1900, Jim Butler, a local rancher, supposedly picked up a rock to throw at his stubborn donkey to get it moving. Noticing the rock was heavier than expected, he saved the rock (and thereby saved his beast from a stoning) and had it assayed. It contained silver and gold. Another legend is that a friendly Native American told Butler were he could find such rocks on the ledge of Sawtooth Peak, which led to the discovery. By whatever means, Tonopah boomed after the discovery and soon the mountainside was dotted with claims. One of the richest, claimed by Butler’s wife, was the Mizpah, a name taken from the Bible. As the town boomed an extension from the Carson and Colorado ran into the town from the north. Soon, two more rail lines came up from the south, the Las Vegas and Tonopah (which roughly follows the route US 95 takes today, and the Tonopah and Tidewater, which ran up through Death Valley Junction.
Throughout the 20th Century, Tonopah had many booms and busts. After the mining played out, the military moved in as the city sits just east of the Nevada Test Range. There were nuclear test and later the B1 bomber was tested near here. Each of these events led to a renewal of activity for the town. The town is also a halfway point for those traveling by highway from Las Vegas to Reno.
We stop at the Mizpah Hotel for the evening. I had eaten at this hotel a few times in the past, but the last couple of times I’d been through the area and was hoping to stay there, it was closed. I learn the Cline family, who own California vineyards, had brought the hotel, after remodeling, had opened it back up. The place is magnificent and looks as it might have appeared in the early 1900s. Supposedly the hotel has its own ghost, of a woman who was killed by her lover. The murder supposedly occurred on the fifth floor and since our room is on the fourth, we didn’t have the pleasure of meeting her.
We eat in the dining room and afterwards, I go out and take a stroll up Main Street before coming back and enjoying an Irish Red brewed by the Tonopah Brewing Company, which is just down the street from the hotel. Talking to the bartender as I watch baseball playoff game on the television, I learn that the same family that owned the hotel has also established the brewery.
In the morning, we decide to make a quick run to Las Vegas in order to get there in time to “meet the team” as the Las Vegas Knights arrive for their first game of the NHL season. The four hour drive takes us through Goldfield, Beatty, Indian Springs and then into vast metropolis of Las Vegas. While I’m not the hockey fan, my wife and daughter are. I take a position opposite Donna, so to get a different view of the players and coaches as they enter the arena. I snap at least a 100 photos as every 10 or 15 minutes another player or coach arrives. Afterwards, we have dinner and catch part of the game at an outside bar at the New York, New York Casino before heading to the airport for a red-eye flight back home.
I’ll leave you with a few more photos:
Fans coming in for the opening game
Watching the pregame at New York, New York
A player taking a selfie with a young fan
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
2 Corinthians 8:1-15
November 18, 2018
Today, I want us to look at Paul’s second letter to the church in Corinth. The Corinthian letters show us that conflict within a Christian community isn’t something new. Paul addresses many such issues in the two letters that are a part of the New Testament. But in the midst of trying to defuse conflict (against the advice of any fundraising consultant), Paul also issues a fundraising appeal. He leverages the gifts of another Christian community, a poorer community, to challenge the Corinthians.
This is a tough letter. And even though Paul deals with many theological issues, but expresses his desire for the Corinthians to step up to the plate and participate in the global church. He encourages generosity. As we seek to be Christ-like, giving should come naturally. Read 1 Corinthians 8:1-15.
Not long after China began to tolerate religion (I say tolerate because churches and religion aren’t exactly encouraged over there and persecution persist to this day), Mrs. Chang, an Chinese-America woman attended a meeting of the Chinese Christian Council. She had been born in China, but was living in Los Angeles. The meeting was held in Nanjing, the city that experienced horrible atrocities by the Japanese in World War Two.[1]
On Sunday, the delegation split up and attended churches all over the city. Mrs. Chang visited a church across the river, in a poor farming region. She was asked about her church in America and told the congregation about the building project upon which they had embarked. At the end of the service, she was surprised to be called back up front and presented an envelope containing the equivalent of 140 American dollars. She was told this was to be used by her church for their new building. Of course, that much money wasn’t going far in LA, but it represented a true sacrifice by some very poor Christians. Their joy at being in fellowship with a Christian from another country “welled up in generosity, and they gave beyond their ability.” It also served as a reminder to the church in Los Angeles at what true sacrifice entails.[2]
That poor church on the outskirts of Nanjing sending a gift to its well-to-do sister church in California is analogous to the Macedonians supporting the saints in Jerusalem. And while those rich Americans in Los Angeles may feel shocked or reluctant to accept this gift, to do so would have destroyed the self-esteem of those who gave and perhaps discourage future acts of generosity.
I told you this story before, but it’s a favorite of mine. When I was a pastor in Utah and a leader in Presbytery, I spent a lot of time traveling back and forth to Salt Lake City. On this particular evening, I was tired and ready to get home. I’d gotten up before dawn and caught the 6:45 AM flight to Salt Lake City, where I had spent the day in meetings. Finally, I was heading home at 9 PM. I was relieved when the gate attendant finally called my flight and I, along with 20 or 30 others, headed out onto the tarmac to cram into one of those SkyWest Airline cigars. It was the type of plane someone even my size has to duck to get into. I was sitting in the row with single seats. Next to me, across the aisle, was a young girl, maybe three years old. I stashed my briefcase, pulled out a book and began to read. The plane took off, climbing up into the night.
When we reached our cruising altitude, the flight attendant handed out peanuts. I tore into my bag and shook them into my mouth, downing the bag in no-time flat as I continued to read. Then the attendant brought us drinks and I had to stop reading to lower the tray and when I did, I noticed the young girl looking over at me. “Here,” she said, smiling and holding out a peanut. I smiled and for a split second thought about shaking my head, “no.” After all, this peanut had been in the hands of a toddler. But then I thought better of it. I took the peanut and said, “Thank you.” She watched me intently as I threw all health advisories out the window and popped the peanut in my mouth. She beamed, dug down into her bag, and offered me another.
Scripture tells us, “A little child shall lead them.”[3] I’ve discovered that to be true in so many ways. I was glad I didn’t squelch her willingness to share. It’s good that the same was true for the church in LA as it was Paul receiving gratefully the gifts of the Macedonian Churches.
As Paul reminds those in Corinth, “our Lord Jesus Christ, though he was rich, yet for your sakes he became poor, so that by his poverty you might become rich.” The foundation of our faith is that Jesus has given to us, even when we are unworthy, therefore if we want to be more like him, if we want to grow into Christ-likeness, we too should be gracious and generous.
In the early and mid-fifties (I know some of you remember the fifties, but I’m not talking those fifties, but the fifties of the first century), the Apostle Paul devoted a significant amount of time and energy to raise funds for the suffering saints in Jerusalem.[4] In Macedonia, to the north of Corinth, he found a receptive ear. Like many Christians of the era, the church in Macedonia was poor. Furthermore, the Macedonians had been through some kind of ordeal; perhaps they had faced strong persecution. But when they heard the need of their fellow believers, they gave generously, begging even for the privilege to give. Listen to this again—they begged for the privilege to give! That’s certainly not an attitude we see today and from Paul’s surprise, I don’t think it was common in the First Century either.
An additional reason that this gift by the Macedonian Christians is so special is that its destination is Jewish Christians, many of whom still maintain their bias against Gentiles. These Jewish Christians aren’t overly excited about having Gentiles in the church. This is an example of someone truly giving from the heart and going against what might be their self-interest. In a way, they’re like the Good Samaritan.[5] They don’t have to help out; after all they’re of a different race of people.[6] No one expects them to pitch in, but they do!
Furthermore, Paul doesn’t have to help out those in Jerusalem. After all, they have often tried to thwart his efforts to reach out to the Gentiles. In a way it’s almost as if they are helping their enemies. Of course, this is Christ-like living as Jesus demands we pray for our persecutors and love our enemies.[7] And what better example of love than gracious giving to your enemies during their time of need?
But the Corinthians weren’t like the Macedonians. Yeah, they said they were going to give, but they’ve yet to step up to the plate. I’m sure they don’t want to hear from Paul about it. Whoever went out to the mailbox and found the letter with Paul’s return address probably mumbled, “Oh, it’s him again. What does he want this time?” It appears, from what Paul writes later in the letter, some in Corinth have accused him of profiting from his ministry.[8]
Paul’s greatly offended by such accusations, yet he feels the need to encourage the Corinthians to give to help out those in need. Of course, their giving doesn’t just help those in Jerusalem, it helps the giver become more Christ-like.
Paul wants the church in Corinth to give, but he’s not going to demand it. In verse 8, he tells them he won’t command that they give, but he is going to test and see if their love is genuine. Here is a church that excels in most things—faith, speech and knowledge—but do they also excel in love and in generosity? Love and generosity are the tell-tale signs of a Christian. Paul doesn’t try to make them feel guilty by saying that God has given it all to you so the least you can do is give back something. That’s true. We can never repay God; we can never out-give God. Paul knows he’s balancing on a tightrope here as he tries not to sound too judgmental, while encouraging the Corinthians to give. It’s hard. By throwing up the example of the Macedonians and by reminding them of the gift of Christ, it’s hard for those in Corinth not to feel some pressure. But, as Paul reminds them in verse 12, he wants them to be eager to give. Paul wants them to have a grateful heart. Too often we give for the wrong reasons. Instead of being grateful for the privilege, we grumble inside, feeling it’s an obligation.
Paul goes on to remind the Corinthians of a Biblical principle. We’re to give based on our abilities. Going back to the law given to Moses, the Hebrew people were reminded that giving should be proportional. That’s the foundation of the tithe.[9] Those who have more, give more; those who have less, give less. Everyone gives! When I was running a building campaign a decade ago, the motto we used was “not equal gifts, equal sacrifices.”
Paul closes this section of the letter with a quote from the Book of Exodus. Drawing back to Israel’s experience in the wilderness, Paul reminds them that everyone was given what they needed in the form of manna. Those who did not have enough manna, after their morning collections, found they had enough and those who had more than they needed, found they only had what they needed.[10]
The Corinthians were rich, at least in comparison to other first century Christians. They were the Americans of the day! Paul wants them to step up to the plate and live out their faith.
Although I know Paul was trying not to shame the church in Corinth to give, I’m not sure he succeeded. It’s hard not to feel a bit guilty when you’re blessed and others are not. But Paul isn’t trying to scold; he wants to remind us of God’s abundant love and generosity. He wants us to live God’s abundance.
Yes, it is true; we can’t out-give what God has given us in Jesus Christ. But we can joyfully participate with God, helping those who are in need and sharing the love that we’ve been given. And in doing so, we become more Christ-like.
Today, we’re asking you to estimate your giving to the church for the next year. As you heard Thom Greenlaw explain last week, we’re asking you to consider taking a step up in your offerings. In doing so, you can grow in generosity as you give thanks for how God has blessed you in the past and trust God to continue to bless you in the future? Amen.
©2018
[1] See Iris Chang, The Rape of Nanking (Penguin, 1997).
[2] Heiko A. Oberman, ‘Begging to Give” The Christian Century, (June 13, 2003.
[3] Isaiah 11:6
[4] C. K. Barrett, A Commentary on the Second Epistle to the Corinthians (Peabody, MA: Hendrickson Publishers, 1973), 217.
[5] Luke 10:25-37
[6] For a discussion of the differences between Gentile and Jewish Christians and this collection, see F. F. Bruce, Paul: Apostle of the Heart Set Free (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1977), 321-2
[7] Matthew 5:43-44.
[8] 2 Corinthians 12:14-17. See also 1 Corinthians 9:3-15.
[9] Leviticus 27:30-33; Deuteronomy 14:22-29; 26:12
[10] Verse 15 is a paraphrase of Exodus 16:18
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
Acts 28:17-31
November 11, 2018
Me, MK, Punab, Cody Watson at Franklin Creek
This past Wednesday at the mission dinner, many of you took advantage to hear M K tell the story of his conversion to the Christian faith and how he and his brother are now doing incredible work planting churches in North India. M K was a Hindu, from the class that used to be known as “the untouchables.” When his older brother became ill in 2000, they thought he was going to die. They’d taken him to the best doctors they could afford in Delhi, who sent him home instructing his mother to care for him in his final days. But then they met two Christian missionaries who began to pray. He became better and eventually was fully healed. The family embraced Christianity and the two brothers have a vision of planting tens of 1000s of home churches across North India.
I tell you this snippet of his story, especially for those of you who didn’t have a chance to hear his testimony, because I want you see how the Book of Acts purposely doesn’t end. God’s Spirit continues to be active in our world, calling new people into a faith with Jesus Christ.
I began preaching on Acts in the winter of 2015. We’re at the end. After this morning, during the three periods I’ve focused on Acts, I will have delivered 52 sermons from this book. Let me review a few things that I hope you have gleamed from this series.
- While this book is often titled, “Acts of the Apostles,” it really should be “The Acts of God through the Apostles”
- The challenges of the 1st Century aren’t that much different from the challenges of today as we, like them, are proclaiming a message to a mostly indifferent world.
- The church is never promised an easy existence.
- It’s God’s Spirit who motivates and directs the church.
- The gospel flourishes despite persecution and challenges.
My desire by our going through this book is to demonstrate the hope we have in Jesus Christ. God has entrusted his church with the message and calls us to participate with the Holy Spirit in telling the good news and bringing the kingdom of God closer to a reality. The book of Acts comes to an end, but the work of the church empowered by the Spirit continues. Read Acts 28:17-31.
Acts ends with Paul living in Rome under house arrest. Why doesn’t Luke, the author, tell us what happened to Paul? After all, we know what happens, don’t we? Paul was martyred in Rome. It’s generally accepted that he was beheaded. It was the more preferable method of execution, generally reserved for citizens of the Empire. While still bad, at least it didn’t create the horrific suffering that came from the Roman’s other methods: crucifixion or burning in tar. Tradition has it that Paul’s execution came during the persecution of Christians following the burning of much of Rome in the year 64.
It was thought by many that Nero had part of the city burned so he could rebuild it to his liking. Kind of like those wildfires out west, it got out of hand. The emperor didn’t appreciate the scuttlebutt. He felt people were pointing their fingers at him. As a way to deflect their criticism, Nero used Christians as a scapegoat. As politicians are apt to do when they come under scrutiny, Nero blamed the fire on “them.” In this case, the “them” were Christians. While we can’t be sure that Paul died under these circumstances, it seems plausible. Furthermore, the date and approximate timing fits other reports from the first century that speak of Paul’s death.[1]
All this is interesting, but why doesn’t Luke tell us what happened? Even if he finished this book before Paul’s death, by the time of the second edition came out, he could have easily added another chapter. What does Luke’s failure to speak of Paul’s death say to us? And what should we take from this passage to apply to our lives and to the church today? I’ll come back to these questions, but first let’s dig into the text.
One of the first things Paul does when he gets to Rome, this he does on his third day there (after cleaning up and catching his breath) is to call the Jewish leaders together. We have seen this throughout Acts. If there are Jews in the city he’s visiting. It’s the first thing he always does. Paul reaches out to the leadership of the synagogue.
Paul goes into this meeting somewhat on the defensive. “I’ve not done anything wrong,” he says. “I’ve not done anything against our people.” Either Paul feared that the Jews in Rome had heard about his problems in Jerusalem, or maybe since he’s still a prisoner he felt he needed to be defensive. After all, he’s standing before them in shackles saying, “I’m innocent.” It appears the Jewish leadership in Rome are not familiar with Paul’s issues. Afterwards, Paul who is confined to his home, begins to preach as people visit. Furthermore, we’re told, Paul provides his own expenses. We don’t know what he did. He could have continued making tents or had gone into some other business, as he had plenty of time while awaiting trial. A few of those who came and listened became believers, but many just argued. In verses 26 and 27, Paul quotes from the Prophet Isaiah and interprets this to apply to his preaching. The Jews don’t listen, but the Gentiles do. Paul continues to boldly preach, without hindrance and while welcoming everyone, we’re told, for two years. And with that, the gospel firmly grounded within the gentile community and having been proclaimed in the greatest city of the world at that time, the Book of Acts comes to an end.
Back to that question I asked earlier, “why does Luke end the story here and not with Paul’s death?” I think Luke did it purposely. The story concludes while on-going. Luke knows the story won’t come to an end with the death of Paul or Peter or any of the other Apostles. After all, we’ve already survived the death of Stephen and James.[2] But this isn’t really a story of the Apostles. Acts takes up where the Gospel of Luke ends. This is the story of the resurrected Christ whose Spirit empowers the church to continue to proclaim his message to the world.
And in this manner, we fit into the story when we participate in spreading the good news. Whenever we do something good for another because of our faith in Jesus, we add chapters to this book. M. K. and his brother are continuing this story in India as are countless others across the globe. Luke ends the story, calling others to join the effort.
Today is the day we honor veterans, and it’s also the 100th anniversary of the armistice taking effect at the end of World War I. Let me draw a parallel here to those in who have led the church in the past and us in the present by considering military cemeteries. One of the things I appreciate about our National Cemeteries is that rank holds no privileges, at least not in death. The graves are all the same. Generals and admirals are buried beside soldiers, marines, airmen and sailors. They are all marked with the same type of tombstone. We don’t honor just the top brass; but everyone who served. In the end, it’s not individual bravery that’s important but the experience of the freedom obtained by their collective sacrifices. Something similar is true in the church. What’s important isn’t individual actions, but what God’s Spirit has done and is doing through the church in the world.
Luke ends his story, not by focusing on Paul and directing our attention to his death, not by singling him out as a hero, but by inviting us into the story as we continue to lift up Jesus Christ as the hope for the world.[3] We’re all a part of this story and in the end the faithful will all be there in white robes before the throne.[4] It doesn’t matter if we are a Paul, or one of those preparing to join the church this morning, or some unknown soul sitting on the back pew, we’re all called to do God’s work. That’s why, I believe, Luke ends the book in this manner. Instead of neatly ending with an exciting conclusion, Luke wants us to write our own endings. What are you going to do to continue the story? What are we going to do? Amen.
©2018
[1] See F. F. Bruce, “The Last Days of Paul: History and Tradition”, in Paul: Apostle of the Heart Set Free, (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1977), Chapter 37: The Last Days of Paul: History and Tradition, 441ff.
[2] Acts 7:54-60 and 12:12.
[3] See William H. Willimon, Acts (1988, Louisville: WJKP, 2010), 190-193.
[4] Revelations 7:9.
Stephen Kinzer, The Brothers: John Foster Dulles, Allen Dulles, and Their Secret World War (New York: St. Martin’s Griffin, 2013), 402 pages including notes, bibliography and index plus 8 plates of black and white photographs.
Two of the most powerful men in America during the 1950s were brothers. John Foster Dulles served as Secretary of State under Dwight Eisenhower until Foster’s his death in 1959. His brother, Allen, was the CIA director through Eisenhower’s and the first half of Kennedy’s Presidency. The two had remarkably similar paths to power. Both were Princeton graduates. Both were Presbyterian. Both had spent their civilian careers working for Sullivan and Cromwell, a New York law firm that represented major American interest overseas. Together, seeing the world through a lens of good and evil (good being capitalism and evil communism), their influence was felt around the world and has effected world politics to the present. The two worked together to overthrow a democratically elected government in Guatemala and Iran. They forced out a popular African leader in the Congo, attempted to push out the elected president of Indonesia, and moved America into Vietnam as the French were withdrawing. After Foster’s death, Allen playing this role in foreign governments as the CIA attempted to overthrow Castro in Cuba, leading to the Bay of Pigs fiasco. In addition the brothers also had a talented sister, Eleanor, who played her own role in international affairs, especially in Europe.
Kinzer does a commendable job as he draws sources from across the globe to create a portrait of the Brothers at work. The two brothers were raised within the Presbyterian manse. The father was a pastor, who would later become a professor at Auburn Theological Seminary. On their mother’s side of the family, they were descended from two former Secretaries of State. Ironically, their beloved “Grandfather Foster” had been the American Secretary of State who helped overthrow another government, the Hawaiian monarchy. This allowed the American annexation of the islands. Of the two brothers, Foster settled down quickly (marrying a woman his younger brother had rejected). He lived his life devoted to her. Allen, on the other hand, was always having affairs (his wife even became friends with two of his mistresses) and his many liaisons probably ncluded the Queen of Greece.
Both brothers began their international interest in the aftermath of the Great War (World War I). In the 1930s, Foster was supportive of Germany (Sullivan and Cromwell had many German clients as well as representing American business with German interests). This led to the one time the two brothers had an open disagreement with Allen asking Foster how he could consider himself a Christian and support what the Germans were doing to the Jews. But soon, this became a moot issue as America was drawn into the war. During the war, Allen, who was always interested in covert work, headed the American spy network in Switzerland. After the war, when the OSS was disbanded, Allen was without a job. In less than a year later, the CIA was organized and he was brought on as second in charge. In the early 50s, he became its director. At the same time, his brother served as the Secretary of State.
The idea of two brothers in such key roles, not to mention their legal ties to many leading international businesses, is easily seen today as clearly a conflict of interest. However, such a breach of protocol wasn’t much of an issue in the 1950s when the country felt it was in a battle between good and evil. Whatever it took to win was seen as necessary. While the Soviet Union certainly presented challenges to the Western World, new research indicates the challenge wasn’t nearly as great as it was thought to have been. Kinzer points out the blunders of both sides in Africa, where neither side understood the continent. The Soviets even sent snowplows to a country that had never experienced snow and wheat to the Congo, a country without a flour mill. Kinzer’s view is that the Brothers (and in some way, all of America) were so colored by the Cold War that they were unable to see beyond their own assumptions and thereby missed opportunities to build a more peaceful world.
As divided as the Brother’s saw the world, Kinzer points out how they clearly avoided direct conflict within the Soviet and Chinese spheres. When the Romanians revolted in 1956, they watched as Soviet tanks moved in to crush the rebellion. While there was espionage behind the “Iron Curtain,” such as U-2 flights over Russia, the real battle was waged in smaller counties, many of whom attempted to remain neutral during the Cold War. The Brothers didn’t believe neutrality was possible.
The strength of Kinzer’s thesis is in his research and in his accessible writing style. However, there are weaknesses within his logic and the application of his research. Several times he refers to Foster and Allen’s “missionary Calvinistic background.” Granted, Kinzer isn’t a theologian (he even confuses Princeton Seminary with Princeton University). But a bigger problem is his use of “missionary Calvinism” in a negative (almost ad hominem) manner. First of all, I am not sure what he means by this description (nor am I sure what that he knows what he means). While many Calvinists have been missionaries, some would point out that Calvinism hasn’t displayed the missionary zeal of other theologies. But more importantly, Calvinism, with its view of human depravity, may be more applicable to the situation with the Dulles brothers. The emphasis on depravity is a belief there is a stain on the soul, in the heart of all people, that’s so deep that only God can remove. Such a doctrine stands in opposition to the dual world view of good and evil. Calvinists understand that we (the human race) have fallen. There are not those who are good and those who are bad. The only one good is Jesus, the rest of us are only righteous by his actions. Because of this strong view of how we, as people, seek out own on interest instead of what God desires, Calvinists encouraged from the beginning a system of checks and balances to keep individuals from claiming too much power. Certainly, the Dulles brothers lacked a desire to have such constraints of their power. If anything, it wasn’t Calvinism that cause their blinders that kept them from seeing a more nuanced world. It was either their ignorance of Calvinistic theology or their ignoring of the teachings of their church. The complexity of the human spirit and its complicity in sin can be seen clearly in Allen. He could be noble as in challenging his brother’s support of Germany in the late 1930s while practicing serial adultery and later, approving of covert campaigns in countries striving to be neutral during the Cold War.
The author also places Reinhold Niebuhr, one of America’s leading theologian during the 50s, in conflict with the Brothers. In his concluding chapter, he quotes Reinhold Niebuhr’s critique of the Brothers’ “self-righteousness” and lack of nuance in understanding right and wrong. However, I am not sure the conflict was as divided as Kinzer makes it out to be. Niebuhr is a complex man who wrote prolifically. While Niebuhr understood sin and the dangers of pride, from my understanding, he also supported America in opposition to the Soviet Union throughout the 50s. So while Niebuhr critiqued their self-assured swagger and unchecked power, he may have been supportive of their long-term goals.
Despite the author’s lack of understanding theological nuances, I still recommend this book. It shows the impact American business had on foreign policy. Was the overthrow of the Guatemalan government necessary in the fight of communism or was it convenient ploy that allowed the brothers to help a former client, United Fruit? The danger of ignoring such obvious conflicts of interest is revealed throughout this book. The book demonstrates just how powerful these two men, who are mostly forgotten today, were in the 1950s. They were even able to “force” Hollywood to change movies (George Orwell’s Animal Farm and Graham Greene’s The Quiet American). In both movies, the script departed from the book in a manner that made the story fit the Cold War mentality of the 1950s. Both authors were incensed at Hollywood’s interpretation of their books.
This book provides a portrait of the man for whom Washington’s International Airport is named. Having read this, I would like to read more about Foster’s children. His son, Avery, converted to the Catholic Church and became a Jesuit priest. He would go on to become an American Cardinal. His sister, Lillias, attended seminary and was one of the first women to be ordained in the Presbyterian Church in 1957. He had one other son who was a mining engineer. The family dynamics must have been fascinating. .
This book speaks to our current age and our tendency to demonize our opponents. There are always dangers of seeing the world clearly divided into good and evil, especially when we see ourselves on the side of good and our enemies as always evil. While the Christian faith teaches of a cosmic battle between good and evil (God and Satan), that battle is also taking place within each of our souls, which blurs the battle lines. Furthermore, the victory within the cosmic struggle has already been won at the cross. We pervert Jesus’ teachings when we see ourselves as only good and others as only evil. The human race is much more complicated that this simplistic understanding that leads to a division between “us” and “them.” When we quickly demonize others, we risk denying the image of God instilled in us all.
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
Acts 28:1-16
November 4, 2018
As we have seen over the last couple of months, Paul knows he’s supposed to be in Rome. He wants to preach the gospel on Caesar’s doorsteps. But it has not been smooth sailing. We saw that last week as Paul along with the crew and passengers on the ship he was sailing are washed up along the shores of Malta. For a while, it didn’t look like they were going to make it. After being pulled ashore, cold and wet, things started looking up. We now expect Paul to have no further complications in his travels; after all, he’s suffered enough. Of course, that’s not what happens. At times, things we really want to do or feel we are called to do, are difficult. But just because we have setbacks doesn’t mean we should give up.
Today Paul finally makes it to Rome. But there’s still one more challenge in his path. For those of you keeping count, I have just one more sermon on the book of Acts! Our text today is from the 28th chapter, the first 16 verses.
In the “Man Who Would Be King,” a movie made from one of Kipling’s short stories, Sean Connery plays Daniel Dravot, a retired British soldier who is out to seek his fortune. Let’s watch a clip…[1]
Daniel is mistaken as a god because he survived an arrow to his chest. Of course, the arrow stuck in his gear and didn’t penetrate his heart. The people in this remote land, the story is set in 19th Century Afghanistan, flock to him as a god that was sent by Alexander the Great (whom they also saw as a god). Unlike Paul, who was probably horrified by people thinking he’s a god, Connery’s character uses this confusion to his benefit. And, of course, when discovered that he’s not a god, that he bleeds red like the rest of us, things don’t work out well for him. But it does make a great plot for a story, doesn’t it?
We don’t generally have a problem equating humans with gods these days, or do we? It’s easy to overestimate people’s abilities. There is a human desire for saviors and those who can fix things which is why we blindly trust doctors, politicians, managers, and even sports heroes, who show promise. That is, until we realize they, too, have problems and are human. Their blood is red, just like ours. None of us are perfect and even the best of us have flaws, which should humble us all. This is your first application from this text: “we don’t need any saviors for we already have one.”
Let’s dig into our text. Once Paul and his shipmates wash ashore and finally begin to dry out, it begins to rain. It’s cold. They can’t get a break. But the residents of the island display a wonderful talent for hospitality. They build a fire and encourage everyone to gather around and warm themselves.
I remember hiking the Appalachian Trail on a wet and rainy day. It had started to rain the night before. We’d packed up in the rain; we hiked in the rain. Our goal was a shelter about a fifteen miles away. The last few miles involved a long climb up a very muddy Bly Gap. Muskrat Creek Shelter was just after we got to the top. It was a three-sided lean-to with a fire pit in front. Another hiker was there before us. He’d skipped hiking in the rain that day, deciding to stay in the shelter where he started reading Dostoevsky’s Crime and Punishment, a book someone had left behind. And he had a blazing fire. He invited us to join him around the fire as he whipped up some Martha White Cornbread mix and fried for us some hoecakes over the fire. We nicknamed him “Cornbread.” Like the residents of Malta, he was an example of hospitality.
If you’re ever caught in a storm, I hope you come across such angels! They’ll make your day better. Better yet, and this is your second application of the text for the day, if you find someone in a storm, why don’t you become their angel and show them hospitality. Such behavior will help make the world a better place.
After we warmed up that afternoon at Muskrat Creek Shelter, several of us went out to gather more wood to add to Cornbread’s fire. It was the neighborly thing to do. Likewise, Paul also pitches in to help, going out to collect some wood. Only he manages not just to come back with twigs and sticks. He picks up a snake which may have been somewhat lethargic due to the cold. Snakes are cold blooded, you know. When chilled, they can’t move and have to depend on the sun (or in this case a fire) to warm up their bodies so that they can move. This may explain why the snake was confused with a stick. But when Paul brings the wood over by the fire, the snake warms up and isn’t too happy at its relocation.
This snake, we’re told it’s a viper, latches on to Paul’s hand. Paul dislodges it by shaking it off into the fire. Those observing this immediately think Paul must be a really bad dude. After all, why would he survive a shipwreck only to be bitten by a viper? You know the comic idea of the Greek gods up on Olympus, sending out lightning bolts to zap someone they’re displeased with. Think of them aiming at Paul, lightning bolt after lightning bolt, till they finally zap him. That’s what’s going through their minds. But when Paul doesn’t show any ill effects from the bite, the people change their thoughts. Now they think Paul must be a god. Why else would he have survived?
Why was Paul saved from the snake bite? Certainly, Paul has a larger mission before him, of going to Rome, but more immediately, he’s also able to bring healing to those on the island. He heals the father of one of the leading citizens of Malta. Others come to him and Paul continues his healing ministry.
The people are so grateful that they provide all the provisions Paul and his friends need when they head to Rome three months later, after the winter storms have passed.
The rest of Paul’s journey is easy. Again, Luke provides us with great detail, including a description of the ship’s figurehead, the twin brothers whom we know as Gemini, a constellation that’s easily identified in the night sky and important to navigation. They sail north from Malta to Syracuse on the coast of Sicily, then pass through the gap between Italy’s boot and football, and on up to Puteoili, near present day Naples. There, Paul would have seen Mt. Vesuvius, which would blow its top in a little less than 20 years, as it buries Pompeii. A group of Christians put Paul and his friends up for a week. From there, they make their way overland, north to Rome. The word is out that Paul is coming and Christians from Rome travel down to meet Paul and his companions half way.
Luke tells this journey in a manner that almost allows us to forget that Paul is a prisoner. He’s being sent to Rome so that Caesar can hear his case and make a ruling. It appears Paul, who has befriended the Centurion in charge of his transport, has enjoyed much freedom during this journey. Even when they arrive in Rome, instead of locking Paul in a jail, he’s allowed to live on his own with a Roman guard watching over him. This arrangement would be like those today who get out of prison but have to wear an ankle tracking bracelet.
God is faithful and that angel who spoke to Paul during the storm that battered the ship was truthful. Paul has arrived safely in Rome. His adventures on this journey show us that while, if God has something for us to do, God will protect us, but it won’t necessarily be easy. The Christian life will have bumps along the way. Paul endured chains, a terrible storm, an attempted munity and murder, a shipwreck, and a snake bite. But God continued to use him, despite the challenges, to bring healing to those in Malta and to offer hope the Christians in Rome.
Does God have plans for you, for us? And if so, what perilous journey are we willing to embark upon? And here’s our last application from the text: as followers of Jesus, we’re not promised an easy path, but we are promised that a faithful God will watch over us and give us strength when needed. And that, should be enough for us to willingly follow our Lord. Amen.
©2018
[1]The clip was from the first minute of this section of the movie: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3dJf5rO0-BM
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
Acts 27:27-44
October 28, 2018
Today we’re reminded of God’s presence, even in the midst of the storms of our lives. But before we get to that, let’s again call on our own Gilligan and MaryAnn (Gene Pinion and Mary McKee) to set the stage as they present the slightly revised parody of the “Ballard of Gilligan’s Island.”
Just sit right back and you’ll hear a tale,
A tale of a fateful trip,
That started from this tropical port
Aboard this tiny ship.
The mate was a mighty sailin’ man,
The skipper brave and sure..
A group of passengers set sail that day
On a long and fateful tour.
On a long and fateful tour.
The wind began to howl one day,
the sailing ship was tossed.
If not for the prayers of Paul to the Lord
all members could be lost.
So join us here next week, my friends.
Be sure to hear the facts,
as Pastor Jeff completes the tale of the marvelous book of Acts.
The Acts of The Apostles….
and nothing rhymes with apostles!
Last week, we left Paul and his companions on a boat as they were sailing from Fair Haven, on the west end of Crete. Those in charge of the boat (actually a ship for we’ll learn there are 276 people on board), decided they’d like to move to the east side of their boat during winter. This was when shipping on the Mediterranean became too dangerous. But as they make their way along the south of Crete, “the gales of November came early.”[1] Their ship is blown off course. They are unable to turn it around and make headway against the wind. The storm was so bad, they can’t see the sun or the stars. They have no way of navigating and are unsure where the wind is taking them.
The 46th Psalm, which was read earlier, describes how chaos often fills our lives. There are natural disasters such as earthquakes and storms on the sea, along with human disasters such as war. Despite all that, we are told that we should not fear, because God is present in the center of it all. The Psalm ends, calling us to take a break from the whirlwind that surrounds us, to sit still in silence and to know that God is with us, that God is our refuge and strength. Paul may have quoted the 46th Psalm to assure his shipmates.
Paul encourages everyone to keep up their courage, telling them an angel visited him during the night. This angel, Paul said, “belongs to the God I worship.” At other places, Paul might have said the angel belongs to “The God of Abraham,” but here Paul is addressing a crowd that is mostly pagan. He refers to God in a way they can understand. The angel, this messenger from God, told Paul not to be afraid. Paul is assured that he will safely arrive in Rome, and that everyone on the ship will survive, even though the ship itself will be lost.
This is where our reading begins this morning. Open your Bibles and read along with me from Acts 27, beginning with verse 27 through the end of the chapter.
Have you ever been in a position like that of Paul’s shipmates, where you lost hope? Where, in the words of Gordon Lightfoot, “the wind and the waves turn the minutes into hours.”[2] I hope not. But if you have, I hope there was someone like Paul beside you. When itis dark and hope fades, we need encouragement. We need someone to challenge the despair and remind us of God’s abiding love? By the way, this is what the church is to be about. We’re to offer hope when all appears lost. We’re to be the voice crying out in the storm, encouraging everyone to trust, to have faith. We can do this because we worship a Lord who was, as we say in the Apostles’ Creed, “crucified, dead and buried.” But that’s not the end of the story. The creed doesn’t end there, it continues, “On the third day, he rose from the dead…”
We have hope because we worship a God who raises the dead! We have hope because our God created this good world, and although the devil and his minions may challenge God’s reign, God is still in control. God is all powerful, but more than that, God is good and just, loving and graceful. As part of God’s family, we have no reason to fear. We have hope, eternal hope. Yes, bad things may happen (and they do), but in the end God holds us in his loving hands. This goes for us as individuals as well as congregations and denominations. Not everything that happens is good. And that’s okay. After all, if the church was that perfect, where only good things happen, they wouldn’t have any of us as members.
Recently, I’ve been reading Joseph Small’s wonderful book on Reformed Ecclesiology, Flawed Church, Faithful God.[3] Ecclesiology comes from the Greek which blends together “word” and “assembly” to create the Greek word for church. Add to that the –ology ending, meaning study, and we have ecclesiology is the study of “church.” Small’s title—Flawed Church, Faithful God—says it all. He captures an essential truth about the church. We’re flawed, we’re not perfect, but we have been brought together by our faithful Savior Jesus Christ and while we struggle to get it right, we follow one who gets it right. So today, as we recall the past, and all the good times we’ve enjoyed, don’t make the mistake to confuse the past with the kingdom of God. For we, the church, is being called forward into a new kingdom where the redeemed in Christ will live eternally. But, like Paul in our story today, we’re still on a journey. There’ll be good days and not so good ones.
Let’s explore our text. Paul and his fellow shipmates have been at sea for 14 days. It’s been stormy and the winds have pushed them far off course. They’re no longer envisioning a nice winter in Phoenix. By reducing their load, they’re just hoping not to capsize. Seasickness is rampart. People aren’t eating. Everyone, it seems, have given up. Everyone except for Paul. Paul’s the cheerleader.
Finally there is some hope. In an era without depth finders, they drop a weight on a string overboard to take a sounding. They realize the water is now only 20 fathoms, or roughly 120 feet. They drop it again, and it’s only 15 fathoms. Although it’s night, they sense land must be near. The sailors dropped anchor. Interestingly, instead of dropping anchors off the bow, as is generally done so the vessel can swing into the wind, they drop four anchors off the stern. Perhaps this caught Paul’s attention, and alerted him that something wasn’t right. For when sailors lower a boat into the sea for the said purpose of setting an anchor off the bow, Paul’s alarmed. In the middle of the ocean, this doesn’t make sense, for you want the ship to be able to move and stay into the wind, lest you risk swamping the vessel with a rogue wave. Paul goes to his friend, the centurion, whom we met last week. Remember, he’s a good guy. Paul tells him that he thinks the sailors are going to abandon ship to save their own necks, so the soldier cuts away the lines holding the boat. Now everyone is stuck on the ship.
Then, in the early dawn, just before daybreak, Paul encourages everyone to eat. We have essentially a communion service here, except that there is no mention of wine. But the language is similar. Paul gives thanks for the bread and then gives it to everyone, all 276 of them, and they eat. And as they are eating, Paul reminds them that they’ll not lose a hair from their head—quite a promise for a group that has been floundering at sea for two weeks.
When the sun rises, they find themselves off an unfamiliar land. They cut the anchors, hoist a foresail, and are blown toward a bay. All seems to go well. It looks like they’ll be saved. THEN, they strike a reef. The ship begins to break up. Salvation was so close, now it seems it’s so far. Once again they are in peril. And there is another problem, one even more ominous.
The soldiers, we’re told, plan to kill the prisoners. They fear that if they the prisoners swim ashore, they’ll escape. If that happens, they’re in trouble. They, themselves, might face death. Remember the jailer in Philippi, who had Paul and Silas locked up. When that earthquake opened the doors of the prison, he was going to commit suicide, for he was afraid that his prisoners had escaped.[4] Letting prisoners escape was a serious thing in these days. 
Thankfully, again Paul’s friend, the centurion, intervenes. So those who can swim, jump in and head for the beach while others float on wooden pieces of the boat. As Paul predicted, the ship is lost but all souls are saved.
Last week, I told how this story stands in in the tradition of that ancient genre of seafaring stories. But here, the ending is in contrast to some of the other stories of the day. In the Odyssey, only Odysseus survives. His crew perishes. By saving not just Paul, but everyone, Luke tells the story in a way that reminds his readers of the power of God, a power that extends not only over the sea, but far surpasses the power of the gods that others worship. We also learn of God’s desire to save.[5]
This story teaches us that while God desires to save us, there are going to be bumps and storms along the way. Yes, Paul is supposed to go to Rome to preach before Caesar, but getting there is not easy. There are things God wants us to do, as individuals and as a community, but that doesn’t mean those things will be easy. As the church, as Jesus’ body in the world, we are called to endure and to be a beacon of hope.
After a week like this past one, with attempted bombings of political figures and a mass killing in a Jewish synagogue, one of the things we’re called to stand up to the hate. As people of God, we’re to show the world a better way, a new way of relating to one another. But it’s not easy. It takes faith. It takes courage.
Our final hymn, which we’ll sing in a few minutes, reminds us that the church exists “‘Mid toil and tribulation…” Things are never easy. But the hymn continues, reminding us the church waits for the fulfillment of the kingdom, for “peace forever more.”[6] The Christian life is not a life free of storms. It’s a life where we endure the storm because we know God is with us and because we know the future. God is going to be victorious over death and evil. In the meantime, we take hope in Jesus’ words that he’ll be with us until the end of the age.[7] We remind ourselves, as we heard from Psalm 46, that God is present even in the middle of a storm. These promises should instill confidence for us to live boldly into our next forty years. So be it. Amen.
©2018
[1] From Gordon Lightfoot’s “The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald,” 1976.
[2] Ibid.
[3] Joseph D. Small, Flawed Church, Faithful God: A Reformed Ecclesiology for the Real World (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2018).
[4] Acts 16:25ff.
[5] William Willimon, Acts, (1988, Louisville, KY, WJKP: 2010), 185.
[6] Samuel J. Stone, “The Church’s One Foundation” verse 3. (1863)
[7] Matthew 28:20.
Larry Larance, A Better Looking Corpse: and other Southern Short Stories (Savannah, GA: Windchimes Press, 2007) 203 pages
I haven’t meet Larance, but we live on the same island (Skidaway). I was lent a copy of his book by one of his friends. They’re both part of the same writing group. These are thirteen enjoyable short stories set across the rural South. Many are from Arkansas, but there are some from Georgia and from Louisiana. Laramie provides an interesting header for each story that includes the town’s name and population. I would have suggested he also provide a year, as the stories are set over a 50 year or so period. However, it doesn’t take long in a reading one of these stories to know what decade they’re set. The author acknowledges his desire to capture the southern speech patterns. Not only does he do this, he does a good job with it so that you have a sense you’re sitting inside the story.
Larance’s stories generally leave the reader feeling good, through there are a few exceptions. In one, someone trying to take an easy way out by running drugs and stashing them in an old couch. He receives his “just reward” when his grandmother surprises him with a new couch and sends the old one to the dump. But most of these stories are about those who struggle and find hope. There’s the man who was going to kill himself who befriends a hobo who saves him. I couldn’t help but to think of George Bailey meeting Clarence in the movie, It’s a Wonderful Life. There’s a story about a bunch of old-aged good-ole-boys ready to set a younger man straight over his drinking and the way they perceive him treating his wife, only to discover there’s more to the story than they knew and they end up offering their help as he tries to get his life back on track. These stories take place in all kinds of settings: a barber shop, the Plantation Club of the Landings on Skidaway Island, a church recreation room, a “boarding house, a class reunion, and upon the waters of Wassaw Sound.
While most of the stories end with the reader feeling good about what’s happened, there are a few that leaves the reader pondering the future. In “No Forwarding Address,” a successful businessman who, on a rebound after his wife’s death, marries a woman who is cleaning him out financially. He plans and executes an escape as he disappears in South Florida. While it seems his new wife might receive her due, we are left to wonder about him. But, as in all the stories, hope is possible. And sometimes that’s what we need, a little hope. These stories may be simple and straight forth, but the reading is good.
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
Acts 27:1-12
October 21, 2018
Last Sunday we focused on Paul’s speech before Agrippa and Festus. Some scholars suggest that speech is the climax for the Book of Acts. Paul lays out his history, theology and a summary of his actions. Paul is convinced of the resurrection and has placed all his trust in Jesus, his Lord. The remaining two chapters in Acts are almost anti-climactic, as Paul lives out his confidence in Jesus, fulfilling the prophecy that he will take the gospel to Rome.[1]
In today’s reading, Paul finally sets sail for Rome. We’ve been waiting for this journey for a long time. There are only two more chapters in this book… After today, we have three more Sundays and we’ll have completely covered this book.
At this point in the story, the church has been established throughout the Roman Empire and Paul isn’t organizing any additional churches. Nor does Luke, the author of this book, provide any additional theological insights. Instead, what we have is a story of a journey. Like another journey that started from a tropical port that we’re all familiar with, they begin in optimism, but that soon wanes. As an introduction to the 27th Chapter of Acts, let me call on Gilligan and MaryAnn. (That’s Gene Pinion singing and Mary McKee accompanying as they present the “revised Ballard of Gilligan’s Island.”).
Paul is a seasoned traveler and has taken enough Mediterranean Cruises and racked up enough sea miles in his missionary journeys that he could have easily been a member of the Captain’s Club. Interestingly, in none of these earlier journeys has Luke given this kind of detailed information. We’re provided with the names of several of the travelers, the home base of the ship, all the ports of call, and the route the ship takes as it responds to the weather. What is Luke, the author, trying to accomplish with all this detail?
In a way, Luke has slowed the action down. Way back in Chapter 19, Paul has been focused on going to Rome.[2] But he first had to go to Jerusalem. This appeared to be just a quick trip to the Holy City, but obstacles were continually placed in Paul’s path. It’s finally a relief that Paul is able to begin moving toward this goal of his, to be in Rome, the city that dominated the ancient world.
What do we learn as Luke slows down his telling of the story? First of all, from the beginning, we learn that Luke and Paul are back together. Notice in verse 1, “When it was decided that WE were to sail to Italy.” We (those of us who are reading this today) don’t know what happened to Luke, but he last included himself in the narrative back in Chapter 21, just before Paul went into the temple in Jerusalem.[3] Now it appears, Luke has rejoined Paul, as have at least one other believer, Aristarchus. Some scholars have suggested that these two may have traveled as Paul’s slaves, not only to help take care of Paul’s needs, but to elevate Paul’s status, which may be why he seems to receive special treatment by his guard.[4]
The journey begins with Julius, the centurion who is there to guard Paul, arranging a ship for the journey. This ship is from northwest coast of Asia Minor and was probably just a coastal vessel that sailed from port to port, never far from land. As it is late in the year for shipping, this ship is probably heading to its homeport for winter. The first stop is at Sidon, and there Paul is granted freedom to go find friends who are able to help provide provisions for him. Undoubtedly, those aboard were responsible for their own food. This was a kind gesture by a Roman soldier who could have told Paul to tighten his belt instead of giving him freedom to seek out grub. Because of the wind, we’re told, the ship sails on the leeward side of Cyrus. Luke is building suspense here. The weather is changing. After several ports, they come to Lycia, where Julius finds another ship bound for Rome.
This second ship, which has sailed north, across the Mediterranean from Egypt, probably hauled grain.[5] It’s well known that at this point in history, Rome’s breadbasket was Egypt. So ships would ply the waters from Alexandria to Rome. With this ship heading to Rome, it appears Paul has a straight shot to make it. But not so quick.
We’re now told it is after the Fast, meaning it’s after the Day of Atonement or Yom Kippur, which falls in late September to early October. This is a problem because we are now in a marginal season for sailing. By November, all shipping would come to a close[6]. Now is the time for ships to find a safe harbor and wait out the winter winds. Paul understands this and argues that they remain at Fair Havens, which sounds like a wonderful place if you’re facing a winter storm.
But Paul is not in charge of this ship. The ship’s owner and the sailors all prefer to winter in Phoenix, a harbor a little further down on the south side of Crete. Who knows why? Fair Havens appears to have been just an inlet, maybe Phoenix not only had a better harbor and a more exciting waterfront that could provide better entertainment for the sailors. So, with Paul’s warning ignored, they set sail and we’ll pick up the story from here next week.
In a manner, this story is told differently than other stories of Paul’s travels. Instead of focusing on Paul’s work, Luke is now focusing more on Paul and the journey. While this is different from the rest of Acts, his writing in this chapter may have been included to please his readers. The human race, at least since Homer first wrote the Odyssey, has had a fascination with sea travel.[7] The sea is a great mystery and still is in some ways. We know way more about the ocean today than then, but what goes on in the depths still baffles science. Perhaps, as one scholar suggested, including this sea journey was the same as a modern author including a chase scene in an adventure movie.[8] It wakes us up and gets our heart racing.
Even if Luke’s intention is to provide levity with this story, are there some other things else we learn from this story? What can we take from this that we can apply to our lives? I think there’s still truth here to grasp. And to understand this, we should go back to Jesus calling the disciples. Interestingly, he first called those who worked the seas on their fishing vessels. What did Jesus say to Peter and the others? You know the answer. Jesus said, “Come, follow me.”[9]
The call to faith is not a call to remain where we are at. It’s a call to follow, it’s a call to a movement. As I’ve often reminded you as we’ve gone through this book, the early church didn’t have names like “The First Presbyterian Church of Antioch.” The church was first known as “The Way.” The journey is important whether or not we actually leave the place we live. At least metaphorically, we are all called to leave behind the past and to move forward into a new life with priorities that are based on Kingdom values.
“Follow me,” Jesus says. For Paul, that means he had to leave behind being a Pharisee, his Jewish heritage, the Holy City of Jerusalem, and head to Rome which was, in the first century, the center of the world. Paul was called as an Apostle to the Gentiles and that requires him to be willing to go where they were living. It also means, as we see in this text, that even though Paul was reluctant to go forward at times, wanting to take the safe way, sometimes we are dragged along and have to go on faith.
You know, it used to be said of churches that “if you build it, they will come.” But that day has long past. Today, most people advising churches on how to engage the culture is saying that we can’t expect people to come to us; we have to go to them.[10] As I have tried to inform you through this series, there are many great similarities between the church of today and the church of the 1st Century. We both are called to do what we can to reach people where they’re at and in most cases that means we need to leave the pews and go be the church into the world.
Where is God calling you? What need in the world is God calling you to help address? Is there someone that could use a friend that you could reach out and share the love of Jesus? Are there people who need to hear the message of hope that has been entrusted to the church? Are there ways you can become involved in the movement to building Jesus’ kingdom? Do you need to talk to someone to help you figure out your journey? If so, come talk to me or seek out a faithful friend. Being on a journey means we must get out of the pews and go and love and serve the world. Amen.
©2018
[1] Beverly Roberts Gaventa, Acts (Nashville: Abingdom, 2003), 349.
[2] Acts 19:21.
[3] See Acts 21:17.
[4] F. F. Bruce, The Book of Acts (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1986), 501.
[5] Gaventa, 351.
[6] Ibid.
[7] Gaventa, 349. William Willimon Acts (Louisville, KY: WJKP, 2010), 182-183.
[8] Gaventa, 349.
[9] Matthew 4:19, Mark 1:19, and John 1:36, 45.
[10] In Lasting Impact, a book the Session of SIPC is studying, the author discusses these trends and how the church should respond. See Carey Niewhof, Lasting Impact (Cummings, GA: The rethink Group, 2015).
David Gessner, Return of the Osprey: A Season of Flight and Wonder (Ballantine Books, 2001), 289 pages, 1 rough map.
I purchased this book (along with an alumni sweatshirt) ten years ago at the University of North Carolina at Wilmington’s bookstore. It’s the school where I did my undergraduate work and where Gessner now teaches. I started reading and just didn’t get into it at the time. I put it down after 20 or so pages. Since then, I have read a couple more of Gessner’s books (My Green Manifesto and All the Wild that Remains). Late last month, as I was looking for something to read while I was spending a few days kayaking and camping on Cumberland Island, I decided the try the book again. This time I fell in love with it. There, I spent part of an afternoon on the banks of Brickhill River, alternating between reading this book and watching an osprey fish. Gessner’s prose is wonderful. There is a relaxed tone to the book as he draws us into a season he spends on Cape Cod observing these magnificent birds. This book is part memoir, as we learn about the author’s recent bout of cancer, which he uses to draw us into the story of how chemicals (especially DDT) almost wiped out the osprey population. But they have made a comeback. Personally, I encounter osprey almost every time I paddle out of Delegal Creek, heading to Wassaw or Ossabaw Island. Perhaps these experiences helped draw me into Gessner’s story.
As he watches the osprey return from South America to their nesting grounds on Cape Cod, Gessner informs us of the birds’ habits. He draws on experts, such as John Hay and Alan Poole. He also carries on a discussion in his narrative with broader ecological writers including Henry David Thoreau, Rachael Carson, John and Mildred Teal, Wendell Berry and Scott Russell Sanders. He explores the dynamics of his own family. He regularly visits his father’s grave while his mother spends the summer with Gessner and his wife. Also, for shorter periods of time, his troubled brother visits, followed by a more delightful visit of his sister and her son, Gessner’s nephew. Reflecting on his own family allows him to also ponder the family dynamics of osprey. As the book goes from late winter to early fall, the reader joins Gessner in cheering on each stage of development during the osprey’s nesting season. First they select and build a nest, then lay the eggs, then the hungry newborns to feed. As the season begins to wane, the young fledglings’ take to the sky and then, before it is time for them to migrate, begin to master fishing.
Ospreys are often called sea eagles and they obtain almost all their food from fish. I was glad, however, to learn that occasional on Cape Cod they will eat an occasional muskrat. I once saw an osprey near my home here come back to the nest with what appeared to be a marsh rat.
I recommend this book. It’s great nature writing. It reminded me of Edward Abbey’s Desert Solitaire and Annie Dillard’s A Pilgrim at Tinker Creek, even though both of these authors wrote their stories as if they were living alone (both had a spouse or significant other with them at the time, something I think I learned from a lecture given by Scott Russell Sanders). Gessner, by including his family into his anrrative, is able to take us out of the “lone nature lover” situation to one who, like the Osprey, live lives with others. A good read.
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
Acts 26 (19-32)
October 14, 2018
One of my goals over the past three years have been to preach through the book of Acts. Part of the reason is my belief the church in the first century isn’t that different than the church of the 21st century. We’re both living in an era where the world is somewhat indifferent to the church. Sadly, there are those willing to use the church as a political pawn, but the message of Jesus, the grace, love and forgiveness of God the Father, is easily sidelined when the church serves such purposes. The great question to the church today is how we are to live our faith in an indifferent world. That was also the question of the church in Paul’s day.
We know this book as “Acts of the Apostles,” but as I have often suggested, it really should be called “The Acts of God through the Apostles.” For each of the miraculous deeds, while done through the Apostles, happen because of God’s power and presence as the early church grows throughout the Roman Empire. This is counter-intuitive, but Paul and the early Christians understood it. The church is always its strongest when the world is against it and the only thing the church can do is depend on Jesus Christ. As Paul reminds the Corinthians, “The weakness of God is stronger than human strength.”[1] With apologies to Allstate, when we trust ourselves to God’s hands, we are in good hands.
Now let’s catch up with our story from Acts. After the end of Paul’s third missionary journey, he returned to Jerusalem, where he found himself attacked by the Jewish leaders. Roman soldier’s saved his life and he’s whisked off to Caesarea, where Paul spends two years waiting in jail. As we’ve seen, God’s hand is still there with Paul, working out the Kingdom’s larger purposes, despite the Apostle’s imprisonment.
The Romans, as I’ve pointed out over and over again, didn’t know what to do with Paul. They don’t think he’s guilty of anything. And Paul, being a Roman citizen creates a problem for them. If they punished an innocent Roman citizen, they’ll be in trouble. But if they let Paul go, they’re going to make the Jewish leaders mad. Looking back on this event from the present, we can see we are just a few years before the Jewish revolt. Things are unsettled in that part of the world. The Roman leaders are doing all they can to maintain the peace.
Instead of facing another trial before the Jews, Paul has appealed to Caesar. But before he goes to Caesar, there is one more hearing, before Herod Agrippa. While we don’t learn anything new about the charges against Paul, we are able to watch how Paul gives his witness before the Roman’s authorities. As we reflect on the 26th chapter of Acts, we can ask how we might give our testimony if called upon. Paul has been falsely accused. If someone was bringing false allegations against us, how would we act? Would our response be like Paul’s? Think about this as we listen to the end of Paul’s last great speech recorded in the Book of Acts. Read Acts 26:19-32. (note, verses 1-18 were read earlier in the service)
Paul has been locked up unjustly. The Romans can’t find anything that he’s done to deserve such treatment, yet they don’t want to upset the Jewish leadership, so Paul remains a prisoner. Now he has a chance to speak before a king. If you were in this situation, what would you do? I’m sure most of us would complain by how we’ve been treated unfairly. We might say nasty things about our accusers, or go on and on about who’s out to get us. We’d grumble about the prison food. We’d whine about the rusty shackles. We’d let ‘em have it.
But that’s not what Paul does. Paul is brought before a king and he is respectful and courteous. And instead of focusing on himself, Paul proclaims the truth he has come to know in Jesus Christ. Paul doesn’t give a defense; he proclaims Jesus Christ. It has been said that the only real defense the church has against allegations by those on the outside is proclamation. Paul might have found relief by focusing on his mistreatment, but would he have been faithful?[2] When our backs are up against the wall, are we willing to proclaim Jesus Christ as the risen Lord? When we are challenged and treated unjustly, do we act like we trust in Jesus? Does our response demonstrate that Jesus is the only thing that matters?
In his first letter, Peter encourages his readers to consider themselves blessed if they suffer for doing what is right. He goes on to say that they should be ready to proclaim, in gentleness and reverence, the hope they have in Jesus Christ.[3] Contrary to what some people seem to think, righteousness indignation is not a Christian virtue! Arguing and blaming others doesn’t further the faith. Humility and respect is what’s expected from followers of Christ. I know it’s hard. I know I don’t always live up to this standard, but there it is. Even when facing false allegations, we are to be calm, trusting in the strength that comes from our Savior’s presence. Even when we are persecuted, we are to see it as an opportunity not to escape but to witness to the power of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.
The speech we’ve heard this morning can be divided into three parts. Paul first tells about his early life—his education and his zealous desire to defend the Jewish faith from those who are followers of Jesus. Paul insists that he did what the Jewish leaders are now doing to him. Then, in verse 12, Paul tells of his conversion. Jesus called him personally to help open the eyes of others, so that people might turn from darkness to light.[4] Then Paul tells of his efforts at proclaiming the truth of Jesus Christ, whose death and resurrection was foretold by the prophets. Paul goes to great lengths to ground the Christian experience in the ongoing tradition that goes back through what we know as the Old Testament.
At this point in his speech, Fetus, the Roman governor who’d invited Agrippa to hear this case, interrupts Paul. “You’re crazy,” he essentially says. “You’ve been hitting the books so much your brain is fried.” Remember, Fetus is an outsider. He’s not Jewish and doesn’t really understand this new territory to which he’s been assigned. Listening to Paul with his Roman worldview, it’s not surprising that Festus responds in this manner. Paul claims his sanity before Fetus, then turns to Agrippa. You must also remember that Agrippa is a part of the Herod line. While Roman, he’s also Jewish. Whereas Fetus wouldn’t know one prophet from the next, Agrippa has a good understanding of the Jewish Scriptures.
Paul attempts to put words in the king’s mouth. “Agrippa, you know this stuff… you believe the prophets.” Agrippa is in a difficult place. If he disagrees with Paul about the prophets, he will have problems not just with Paul but also with his fellow Jews. You’re not to say bad things about the prophets. But if he agrees, then he feels he’ll look silly to the Fetus and the Romans, who have no idea what Paul is talking about. So the king doesn’t answer Paul directly, but asks, almost sarcastically, “Paul, are you trying in this short period of time to make me a Christian?”
Paul’s response to Agrippa is classic. Yes, that’s his intention, to lead Agrippa to Christ. Paul is praying that God will open up Agrippa’s and everyone’s eyes. He wants Agrippa to become, like Paul, a believer. At this point, the meeting breaks up as Agrippa leaves the proceedings. Perhaps his conscience is pricked, and he wants to get out of the room before he has to make a decision concerning Jesus. As Agrippa departs, he acknowledges Paul’s innocence. In his eyes, Paul has done nothing to deserve death. He also indicates that if Paul had not appealed his case to Rome, he could have been set free. It appears this appeal now works against Paul, for he is to be taken to Roman as a prisoner. The stage is set for Paul to make his last great journey.
What is it that we should learn from this passage? How should we apply what happen to Paul to our lives? Like Paul, as followers of Jesus, we’re to desire the best for everyone, including our enemies, including those who judge us, and including those who accuse us. In the face of troubles, we are to place our hope, not in our abilities to argue or to attack, but in Savior Jesus Christ.
As I’ve suggested, our society has become more apathetic about the faith. In other societies, there is even opposition. We just seen the release of Andrew Brunson, a long held Christian pastor in Turkey.[5] Even more troubling is the Death Penalty sentence for blasphemy against the Koran handed out to a Christian woman in Pakistan. It’s been appealed to that’s country Supreme Court, but one shouldn’t have to suffer in such a manner as has this woman.[6] There are Christian farmers in Nigeria whose villages are being wiped out.[7] There are churches being closed in China.[8] We need to keep our brothers and sisters around the world in our prayers and hope that when they are persecuted that can, like Paul, display their trust in Jesus Christ.
Hopefully, none of us will face such persecution, but how we live and respond to the world demonstrates our allegiance. Paul put his Savior before everything else, including himself. While there were no converts made on this day, Paul wasn’t being judged by worldly standards. His respectful approach to Agrippa displayed his confidence in his Savior. Paul was being judged by Kingdom values. He remained faithful to Jesus Christ? Will we? Will we place our trust in Jesus even on those bad days when nothing seems to go our way? Amen.
©2018
[1]1 Corinthians 1:25.
[2] Beverly Roberts Gaventa, Acts (Nashville: Abingdon, 2003), 348.
[3] 1 Peter 3:14-16.
[4] Acts 26:18.
[5] https://www.washingtonpost.com/politics/trump-to-meet-evangelical-pastor-brunson-after-he-was-freed-from-turkish-jail/2018/10/13/352faf66-cef9-11e8-920f-dd52e1ae4570_story.html?noredirect=on&utm_term=.f89809b81850
[6] https://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-6260057/Daughter-Christian-woman-Pakistan-sentenced-death-blasphemy-speak-struggle.html
[7] https://www.premier.org.uk/News/World/Something-needs-to-be-done-or-the-church-will-be-destroyed-says-Nigerian-Christian
[8] https://www.premier.org.uk/News/World/6-churches-closed-down-in-China-in-a-week
Installing new flat screens monitors at SIPC
This summer Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church made a major investment in our sanctuary to both enhance our worship with four large screens and to broadcast our worship with three remote controlled cameras. Out thanks to everyone who played a role in this transition, especially Lars Ljungdahl, Jim Brown, Sam Eskew, and the late Bob Harris.
We have been slowly working into our use of this technology which allows us to show high quality images and video during worship, to stream our services live, and to record our services for future play. Over the past two months, we have had “Beta Testers” watch the service from computers in their homes and apartments, on tablets in the hospital, and on a beach in Nova Scotia. I even was able to catch most of Deanie’s sermon recently while camping on the north end of Cumberland Island. Unfortunately, my signal strength wasn’t the best, but I was able to catch most of her excellent message.
While we would love to have you worship in person with us each and every Sunday, we know that we are often busy or traveling or, heaven forbid, sick or in the hospital and unable to be present at 10 AM on Sunday morning. For those Sundays you are not able to be here, we encourage you to worship with us via streaming over the internet. This you can do on any computer or tablet. Just go to www.sipres.org/watchlive. or click on the link below. Of course, if you are traveling in a different time zone, you’ll need to make sure that you go to this site at the time we are worshiping (currently it’s 10 AM Eastern Daylight Time on Sunday morning). This time would be 3 PM in London, 7 AM in Los Angeles, or 5 AM on Monday in Malaysia). To check out the correct time, go to https://timeis and search for Savannah, Georgia USA.
I invite you to join us here on the island, or remotely, wherever you might find yourself this Sunday morning.
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
Mark 9:38-50
October 7, 2018
It’s World Communion Sunday and Christians around the globe gather around this table to celebrate. But why? What are we to be about?
A definition of a Christian I like is that we’re to make flowers grow in a dark world. Are we doing that? Have you planted or shared any flowers lately? Have you done something else to make someone smile? To brighten up the world?
Philip Gulley, a Quaker Pastor in Indiana, is the author of some delightful and humorous books about life and ministry. In Front Porch Tales, he introduces us to Doc Foster, a man in the town in which he was raised. Doc wasn’t a physician. He was a trash collector and the only African-American in Gulley’s hometown.
For a dollar a week, he pulled up at our curb in his pickup truck, climbed out, threw our trash in the back, and drove away. If we forgot to set our trash out, he’d drive back to our barn and get it himself. When he had a truck full, he’d drive out to the town dump on Twin Bridges Road, unload, wet his finger, and put it in the air; if the wind wasn’t blowing toward town, he’d commence to burning…
Gulley goes on to tell of other “good deeds” done by Doc Foster such as helping college kids out with their tuition so that there could be more teachers in the community. He sums up Doc’s work this way:
When out-of-town visitors would complement us on our town’s cleanliness, we would swell with pride as if we ourselves had swept up the trash the dogs had scattered. Doc did what all good people do—made the rest of us look better than we really were.[1]
Did you catch that definition of a good person? A good person is one who makes everyone else look better. As followers of Jesus, that’s what we’re to be about. When we come to this table, we come as servants, serving the Lord and one another. We come as people whose purpose is to make others look better. But we don’t like to think ourselves that way, do we? We’re not alone, neither did the disciples.
Today we’re going to look at some of Jesus’ more difficult sayings. Let me put this passage in context. Jesus has just intervened in one of the disciples’ disputes over who was going to be the greatest. Jesus broke the news. If you want to be great, you have to first be a servant. Then he called forth a child and says, “Whoever welcomes one of these little children in my name, I will welcome.”[2] It’s a message the disciples have a hard time grasping, which we’ll see as we pick up the reading from there. Read Mark 9:38-50.
It’s been about a dozen years since we were all shocked at a story that came out Canyonlands National Park in Utah. A young solo climber, Aron Ralston, was descending into a canyon when an 800 pound boulder slipped and trapped his arm. He did everything he could to get free, but nothing worked. After three days, he ran out of water. On the fifth day, he made the drastic decision that saved his life. He rigged up his climbing gear so he could repel one-armed down the canyon as soon as he was free, tied a tourniquet to his pinned arm, and then, using his knife, amputated it.[3]
Aron was not the first person to perform such drastic measures in other to survive. In 1993, a fisherman in Colorado cut off his leg at the knee after being trapped by two large boulders while fishing in a remote canyon stream. Yelling for hours, no one heard his cries and the weather was deteriorating. Using hemostats from his fishing kit, he closed the severed arteries and crawled half-a-mile back to his truck.[4]
Such incidents cause many of us to wonder if we could do the same thing if caught in a similar situation. I don’t know, but I know that being in such a position requires drastic action. If you want to live, there may be no other choice. And maybe that is what Jesus is saying in this harsh passage.
Sin, which leads to death, requires drastic action. Now I don’t think he means that we’re to actually cut off our hands or pluck out our eyes. After all, if you use such logic, that would mean if your sin begins in thought in your head, you should chop it off or at least sign up for a lobotomy. Obviously, Jesus’ intention isn’t to create a bunch of handicapped, self-mutilated Christians. That would go against Scripture’s teaching that our body is a temple in which we invite God to dwell.[5] So instead of taking this passage literally, we have to figure out what Jesus’ intention was here, what he’s trying to say.
I believe Jesus uses outrageous examples as a way to get his disciples (and our) attention. Jesus is forcing us to deal with our own sin. If we look at this passage as a whole, from verse 38 through verse 50, we’ll see that Jesus extends charity to those who might have been considered “outsides” while putting a heavier burden on those who are “insiders.” Another way of getting at this is Jesus’ saying that we’re to take the log out of our own eyes before we try to retrieve a speck out of someone else’s eye.[6] Let me explain.
Our passage starts with the disciples trying to look good. That should indicate something… Pride has this way of messing with us.[7] “Jesus,” John says, “we stopped this guy from using your name to expel demons. He wasn’t one of us so we set him straight.”
John’s expecting a pat on the back. “Way to go, John,” he expects to hear. “You’ve helped maintain my good name.” But that’s not what he hears! “Don’t stop someone from doing good,” Jesus says.
He then gives two examples. “If someone gives you a cup of water in my name, they’re on our side and God will notice their good deeds.” In the second example, he speaks of us giving a hard time to someone on the outside, or as it has been traditionally translated, “if you put a stumbling block in front of a little one who believes in me, you’d be better off to have a millstone tied to your neck and be tossed into the sea.” Such dreadful experiences might have been on the disciples minds for it is known that he Romans recycling worn millstones by tying them around the necks of their enemies.[8] The resulting consequences of these two actions may seem out of portion. A cup of water gets a nod from God, while tripping someone (we’re not even told that they fell), is serious enough that we’d be better off dead. Consider, however, what Jesus is doing here. He extends charity to those on the outside while setting up tougher standards for those who are on the inside.
Jesus next gives a series of hyperbolic demands, commands that seem so outrageous. These are not given as an absolute requirement, but as a way to drive home a point. We need to take seriously our sin. “If your hand or foot causes you trouble, cut it off. If your eye distracts you, pluck it out.” Sin requires serious attention! “Don’t worry about who’s in and who’s out,” Jesus is saying. “Don’t spend your time worrying about the sin of others. Worry about yourself and what you can do to avoid sin.” Good advice, for we can only change ourselves. We can’t change someone else, a lesson all of us who are married should have learned a long time ago. But it’s a lesson that just doesn’t sink in very deep.
Then Jesus closes this section with a reminder that we all need to be “refined by fire.” Take actions to preserve yourself, we’re told and then preserve the peace with one another. Kind of an interesting way to end this set of troubling teachings, don’t you think?
Let me suggest a way for us to apply this passage. Jesus is saying that we need to go easy on others (those on the outside). If we should hard on anyone, we should be hard on ourselves. This will keep us humble. We need to avoid comparisons and thinking “my sin ain’t as bad as their sin.” That’s the logic of three-year-olds and politicians! If we go easier on others than ourselves, we avoid being hypocritical, a problem that seems to especially infect religious people. If we harder on ourselves than others, we will be more gracious and humble and the church can become a place where people care for one another. We’ll be like old Doc Foster, making others look good!
Karl Barth, the great Swiss theologian, had a favorite story about a horseman who became lost in a snow storm. Spurring his horse on, he galloped across a frozen lake. Later, in the comfort, warmth and safety of home, he learned of his fool-hearted action and how he galloped across thin ice. The man then broke down in horror and fright. In a way we’re to be like that. For you see, it’s only after the horseman was saved that he realized his peril.[9] That is also true for us. We realize the danger once we have experienced the grace.
I hope you know that sin leads to death, but that you also know that we are to let our sins die on the cross as we accept God’s grace, love, and forgiveness that’s offer through Jesus Christ.[10]
Yes, we should take our own sin seriously. But we should also go easy on others and their sin. By living this way, we’ll be making the world a better place for all. Amen.
©2018 (this sermon was adapted from a sermon I preached at First Presbyterian Church, Hastings, MI on 10-1-2006)
[1] Philip Gulley, Front Porch Tales (HarpersSanFrancisco, 2001), 31-33.
[2] See Mark 9:33-37.
[3] http://latimesblogs.latimes.com/thedailymirror/2010/11/aron-ralston-the-real-story.html
[4] https://www.mountainzone.com/2003/news/html/030502_amputate-arm.html
[5] 1 Corinthians 6:19.
[6] Matthew 7:3-5 and Luke 6:41-42.
[7] See Proverbs 11:2, 16:18, and 29:23.
[8] William L. Lane, The New International Commentary on the New Testament: The Gospel of Mark (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1974), 346.
[9] Story told by Ralph Wood in Flannery O’Connor and the Christ-haunted South (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2004), 152.
[10] See Romans 6.
I will be away for the next two weeks, so I thought I’d leave you with a blog post that I wrote in June 2011, when I was on Sabbatical and traveling mostly by train across Indonesia and then from Singapore to Europe. In this post, I am cross the island of Java.
Crossing Java by train
The heat and humidity is stifling here. I sweat, even in an air conditioned train, the Taksaka 1 from Jakarta Gambir Station to Yogyakarta. The sun pours through the glass. I could close the curtains, but then I’d not see the countryside, so I sit with sweat beading up on my forehead. The back of my shirt has been soaked for some time and clings to the seat.
The train races past vast rice fields, in different stages of production. Although large, each field is divided into manageable plots, separated by dikes allowing for flooding of the paddies. Here, six degrees below the equator, it is endless summer and the fields produce two crops a year. In some paddies, the green rice is tall and I occasionally see a farmer wandering through with a backpacking, spraying what I assume is insecticide. Other fields are muddy, in the process of being cultivated for a new crop. In the paddies that are currently being planted, bundles of rice plants have been placed and workers in six inches of so of water are busy transplanting the young grass into neat rows. In other paddies, they’re harvesting rice, cutting stalks and feeding them into a thresher or, in some cases, beating the stalks on the ground, separating the seed from the grass. And there are paddies in which the harvest has occurred. The stalks in these fields are burnt as they prepare the ground for another crop. The smoke from the burning paddies occasionally waffles through the train.
Slums on the outskirt of Jakarta
The train was nearly an hour late leaving the capital city. For the longest time, we rolled through the sprawling city, its poverty evident and on display. Trash was everywhere and the canals, which had gagged me when I’d walked across them on bridges, are filthy. In my reserve seat, I watch the crowded trains come into town, the only air conditioning that many enjoy come from climbing up on the top of the cars and riding out in the open. It’s dangerous. If the train hits a bump they might fall off, but they are also in close proximity to the overhead electrical wires. This is a country of great contrast with a few who are very wealthy and many who live in unspeakable conditions.
Slowly, we leave the city behind us and moved into the tranquil countryside, with farms and elaborate irrigation systems lining both sides of the tracks. We pass small stations, each with their station master standing out front in his railroad uniform and red and yellow conductor hat, observing us as we speed by.
Our first stop is Cirebon. As the train approaches the station, a host of merchants jump onboard the slow moving cars to sell food and drinks and other goods. There are women with a thermos of hot water and cups along with instant packets of coffee and chocolate. Others sell baked and fried goods, fruits, and packaged snacks and chips. These merchants don’t enter the coaches themselves, probably due to regulations as the railroad itself has plenty of their workers already doing that, but they stand at the end of the cars, in the doorways, crying out for their products. Others run down the track, tapping on windows, offering up their wares.
On the advice of the older Indonesian gentleman sitting next to me, I order a steak for lunch. It arrives as we leave Cirebon, a plate consisting of ground steak, some egg, boiled potatoes, carrots and green beans. It all cost 30000 IRD, a little over $3. It’s nothing fancy, but it is filling. I ask my traveling friend where the beef came from (I’d only seen one cow so far and it didn’t look like anything you’d want to eat). He laughed and said it probably came from Australia.
As I finish lunch, the train turns southward and snakes up the ridge of mountains that form the backbone of Java. Rice is still grown and higher up, we see more fields in harvest. But there are many other vegetables grown. Also, there are a few cows along with sheep and goats. I’m impressed by many of the fields, in which the dikes that cut up the rice paddies have a row of string beans staked on top. There are also plots of corn, sugar cane and melons. I am enchanted with the scenery and the neatness of the countryside. The irrigation works are even more elaborate here, the water running through masonry channels. The neat houses, all roofed with red tile, stand in contrast to the green fields and are shaded by tall palm trees, many loaded with coconuts.
I walk up to the front of the car and stand by the door, between coaches and try to get a better angle for a shot of the back of the train as we move through the turns. An attendant sees what I’m attempting and opens the door for me, allowing me to stick my camera out and photograph the back end of the train. Although careful, I know that it is dangerous and you’d never be allowed to pull such a stunt in the United States. I remember once standing in such a place where another traveler with a camera opened a window. The car attendant was furious with him! I stay in the doorway for a long time, enjoying the breeze and the ability to photograph without having to shoot through dirty glass. Although the car, with many cracked windows, doesn’t look like what we might expect from “executive class,” I am impressed with the tracks. Here in the steep section of the line, line is mostly double tracked with welded ribbon rail and there appears to be new ballast under the concrete ties.
After passing the town of Bumiayu, nestled in the shade of the forest are scores of small factories devoted to the manufacture of tiles for roofing. By each kiln are stacks of wood for the fires and the open air buildings have two levels of roofs, allowing for smoke to rise and clear the work area. The train begins to pick up speed. Soon, we’re out of the mountains. We stop in Purwokerto, the second stop of the trip (except for where we had to stop to allow trains to pass). Afterwards, we’re back in large fields of rice, racing on toward Yogyakarta. It is still rural, when my traveling friend tells me we’re entering town and only a few minutes from the station. We arrive at 5:20 PM, about 50 minutes late. I look for the Kiko restaurant, where I’m to meet a driver from the Green Gardens Bed and Breakfast. He’s not there, but as I turn around, a man is running up to me with my name written on a piece of cardboard. At least I won’t have to worry about finding a place to stay for the evening…
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
Acts 25:13-27
September 16, 2018
What a week! There’s been a lot of anxious anticipation. For a few days I wondered if we would even be here today. Perhaps, I thought, we’d be living out of suitcases somewhere higher and dryer. We have been spared from Florence. We must pray for those in the path of the storm and remember our obligations to help out as they rebuild.
Waiting in anticipation is what Paul has been doing as we work our way through the closing chapters in Book of Acts. Last week, we saw that Paul appealed his case to the Emperor, to Caesar. He knew the dangers of returning to Jerusalem and decided to stick it out with the Roman leadership. We’d think that Paul would be placed on a ship for Rome right away, but that doesn’t happen. Luke, the author of Acts, lingers. There’s a problem. Festus needs to indict Paul. Think of it this way, someone who’s not been convicted of a crime can’t go before the Supreme Court. Likewise, if Festus packs Paul off to Rome without some kind of charge, Caesar and the Romans are not going to be amused. They might take it out on Festus. As Festus ponders this, he’s visited by a neighboring king, another Herod. We’ve heard that name before, haven’t we? Luke seems intrigued by this family.[1]
There’s a parallel in Luke’s writings between Paul’s court appearances and those of our Lord. In his gospel, Luke tells about the attempts of Roman officials to avoid passing sentence on Jesus, a man they didn’t think deserved to die. As we heard earlier, Pilate tries to pass the buck by having Herod judge Jesus, but the King sends Jesus back to Pilate.[2] They can’t find anything serious enough to charge Jesus. But they are interested in keeping the peace. If that means Jesus has to die, so be it.
Sadly, such “collateral damage” doesn’t bother us as long as we can make it “one of them.” Human nature hasn’t changed. Look at our wars. We don’t fight other humans. We fight terrorist, Gooks, Japs, Krauts… When we can name someone as the other, we depersonalize them and are less bothered when there is a miscarriage of justice. So Jesus, to the Romans, was just another Jew, therefore expendable.
But with Paul, things are different. Yes, he’s another Jew, but he’s also a Roman citizen. With his citizenship comes certain rights. They can’t unjustly accuse and execute him as a way to appease the crowds. So Festus has to figure out what to do, and he calls on Herod Agrippa II.[3] Read Acts 25:13-27.
We’ve all heard the phrase, “pass the buck.” We all, at one time or another, have probably used this phrase. It means to pass our responsibility off to someone else.
The term, I’ve learned, comes from playing poker in the American West. When you had the same person dealing cards, it was easier for them to cheat, so each hand the dealer would change. To indicate who the dealer was at the table, a buck knife would often be stuck in front of them. Originally called a buck-horn knife, later it was shortened to a buck knife, so named because the handle was made from an antler. So when someone didn’t want to deal, he could “pass the buck” and move the knife and cards over to the next player, who would become the dealer.[4] A little warning for those of you who play poker at the clubs. Do not stick a knife in the table. That may be frowned upon. This ain’t the Old West.
Of course, this phrase that started in a card game changed over time. Language is fluid. Passing the buck began to be applied to someone who passes his or her responsibilities on to someone else.
Passing the buck, that’s what we see happening with Paul.[5] No one wants to take responsibility. Lysias, the Roman tribune in Jerusalem, could have let Paul go. So could have Felix. Both could have seen to it that justice was served, but they passed the responsibility on. Now we see Festus attempting the same thing.
Our passage today begins with a royal visit. King Agrippa and Bernice arrive. As neighbors, they probably came to pay their respects to the new ruler over Caesarea and Judea. Let me say a little bit about these two, for the Roman soap opera continues. Several weeks ago, we heard about Felix and his rather loose wife, Drussilla.[6] Well, let’s now see if you can keep this straight. King Agrippa, whose father was Herod Agrippa whom we met earlier in Acts, along with his queen Bernice and Drussilla, are siblings. Did you catch it? Agrippa, Bernice and Drussilla, all have the same dad. We only think our world is scandalous. Luke doesn’t go into the scandals, but Roman historians did.[7] A brother and sister together like that… Later Bernice would move up the food chain as she shack up with Titus, who led the Roman armies when they reconquered Jerusalem. She became his wife, but when he became emperor in the year 79, she was dismissed because the Roman people were horrified about her past. At this time, she’s with her brother and we don’t know what to make of their relationship. Perhaps Luke, who seems to be interested in placing all that happens within the church into historical context,[8] assumed folks reading this account in the first century would understand the scandal just by mentioning their names.[9]
So King Agrippa and Bernice stop by for a royal visit. For Festus, this is a chance for him to learn what he can do about Paul. Notice that at the beginning of the reading, Festus attempts to place blame on his predecessor. “Herod,” he said, “Felix left this dude named Paul in prison. And now he has appealed to Caesar. I’m not even sure what to do. In my opinion, he’s not guilty.” Herod, it appears, obviously had heard of Paul and is intrigued. He wants to learn more. With experience in governing, Herod is willing to hear Paul and offer Festus advice.
Starting with verse 23, we’re given the details of this royal gathering before whom Paul is to be dragged. This could be a movie set. Everyone that anyone is there, dressed in their finest. There’s the military brass standing at attention, there are the leading citizens, and the king and queen of a neighboring province sit in the middle. We can imagine palm branches and peacock feathers waving as slaves attempt to cool the crowd. This is a big deal. Again, Festus makes his case. If he’s sending Paul to Rome, he has to indicate what charges have been made against him. Festus throws this big party for this purpose.
In a couple of weeks, we’ll hear Paul’s speech before Agrippa, which is the last of his great speeches recorded in the Book of Acts.[10] For now, consider what we might learn from this passage? When those who have been vested with power refuse to use such power to bring about justice, then by their inaction, injustice flourishes. Sin isn’t just what we do. It’s also what we refuse to do.
I encourage you sometime to pick up the Westminster Larger Catechism. For each of the Ten Commandments, there are enlightening lists. For the fifth commandment, “thou shall honor thy father and mother,” the list contains not just how we treat our earthly parents, but also our superiors. It also contains sections about how our parents as well as our superiors are responsible to us.[11] Among the sins of the superior toward the inferior is neglecting their duty to those below while seeking our own ease, profit, or pleasure. These are things we’re forbidden to do, but there is equally as large list of things required of us.
It has often been said that leadership is a lonely job. But that doesn’t excuse us. Unlike the examples we have of Felix and Festus, we should avoid passing the buck. We must take responsibility. It may cause us to lose friends or influence, as these two feared. But the lives and well-being of others depend on our faithfulness and honesty.
Asma Jahangir was a Pakistani lawyer who died early this year. She was also Muslin. Back in the mid-90s, there was a high profile case in Pakistan, where two Christian men, a father and his 14 year old son, had been convicted in a local court of blasphemy for defacing the Qur’an. They claimed they were not guilty and it appears the whole thing was an attempt by neighbors to claim their land. They were sentenced to die. The cased was appealed to the Pakistani Supreme Court. This was a hot button issue and no one wanted to touch it, until Jahangir stepped forward. Her decision resulted in Islamic clerics condemning her. In their eyes, nothing could be worse than a Muslim woman defending infidels. This resulted in threats and two attempts on her life. Yet, she remained focused and won the case. As soon as the two were released, they were whisked out of the country and safely to asylum in an unnamed European state.[12]
What Ms. Jahangir did was to be a responsible and courageous leaders. It’s not the easy way out, but it’s the right way. Too often we look to do what is easy, what won’t cost us or what will help us receive the praise of the crowd. But being a responsible leader is more than seeking the approval of the masses. Being a responsible leader is more than building up one’s base. Being a responsible leader is doing the right thing because it is right.
Unfortunately, in these last couple of chapters in Acts, we’ve seen Roman leader after Roman leader avoiding doing what is right. They attempt to take the easy way out. Don’t be like them. When you feel led by God’s Spirit to speak out against injustice, to stand up against corruption, to support the weak, to confront a bully, or to speak the truth, don’t follow Festus’ example. Don’t pass the buck. Stand for what is right. Amen.
©2018
[1] While Luke doesn’t mention Herod the Great’s massacre of the innocents as Matthew does (Matthew 2), he does mention Herod the Great (Luke 1:5) as well as many who were second and third generation Herods. See Luke 3:1, 19-20; 8:3; 9:7ff; 13:31; 22:66; 22:7ff; and Acts 4:27, 12:1ff, 23:25.
[2] Luke 23:1-12.
[3] F. F. Bruce, The Book of Acts (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1986),481.
[4] This meaning of the phrase can be found many places on the internet: See https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Buck_passing or https://www.phrases.org.uk/meanings/pass-the-buck.html or https://www.infoplease.com/askeds/origin-passing-buck
[5] I found the idea of relating “passing the buck” to his passage from a sermon by the Rev. Dr. Peter A. Butler, Jr, “Providential Passing the Buck” delivered at 2nd Reformed Church, Irvington NJ on May 22, 2011.
[6] Acts 24:24-27. See my sermon on September 2, 2018
[7] See Bruce, 482, n.15.
[8] Luke is the one who sets the birth of Jesus during the reign of Augustus, when Quirinius was governor of Syria. See Luke 2:1-2.
[9] Beverly Roberts Gaventa, Acts (Nashville TN: Abingdon, 2003), 335-336.
[10] See Acts 26.
[11] Presbyterian Church USA, The Book of Confession, “Westminster Confession of Faith: The Larger Catechism,” Questions 127-130.
[12] Carnegie Samuel Calian, The Spirit-Driven Leader: Seven Keys to Succeeding Under Pressure (Louisville, WJK Press,2010), 82-83.
Last week, I spent three days at New Ebenezer Retreat Center, which is located near Rincon, about an hour west of her. I spent the time planning sermons for the coming year, some writing, and some reading. But since the center is located at the confluence of Ebenezer Creek and the Savannah River, I took a kayak with me and spent some time on Ebenezer Creek. While I paddled part of the creek before, this was the first time I was able to be there by myself and I wasalso able to paddle some new areas.
I set my standard to do 8 hours of work, then I could paddle, before coming back and doing some more reading in the evening. On Monday, I put in at Tommy Long Landing and paddled to the Savannah River and back. It was fairly late in the day when I launched (around 4 PM). I paddled down with a nice breeze and keep hearing thunder from pop-up storms that were all around, but never came close. I saw several small alligators but no snakes. I could tell I was getting close to the river as this area is still tidal and the weak current was moving upstream, and the last half-mile or so before the confluence, the water changed from black to brown, as silt in the river water was being pushed up stream by the tide.
On Tuesday, I set again around 4 PM and launched at Long Bridge Road. I tried paddling upstream, but was only able to go a couple hundred yards before I came to a log jam and wasn’t able to go further. I turned and headed south, under the bridge and was able to paddle maybe a mile before I could go no further. If I had a small handsaw, I could have cut a path and paddle a lot further, but I didn’t have a saw and didn’t want to get out in the muck and haul my kayak over the logs (that’s a lot easier in a canoe). So I paddled back and then did the loop again. Again, no snakes, but also no alligators. But I did see quite a few turtles and one curious kingfisher.
Just north of Long Bridge Rd
Long Bridge Road
This is a historic area. The New Ebenezer Community was the site of the Salzberger’s settlement that dates back to the 1730s. The Salzbergers were Lutherans from Southern Germany and in the early 18th Century given a choice to convert back to Catholicism, to die or to flee. They chose the latter and signed up with Oglethorpe who was trying desperately to populate his new colony of Georgia. Seeing an opportunity at hand, Oglethorpe decided to place the Germans as a buffer between Savannah and the Creek Indians. There is still an active church in the community, which is the oldest church building in use in Georgia. There is also a neat old cemetery and when I got back Tuesday evening, I spent some time walking around it.
On Wednesday evening, I came home.
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
Acts 25:1-12
September 9, 2018
In the quote on the flyleaf of the bulletin, we’re reminded that Luke, the author of both the gospel and the Book of Acts, is writing to a person. And that individual, no doubt, is a member of a congregation. And just what does this congregation need to hear when they receive this correspondence? The world hasn’t always a friendly place for Christians, and this was especially true in the first couple centuries of the Christian era. They need to know what it means to be faithful and that they can carry out their mission within the harsh world of the Roman Empire.[1]
Thankfully, we live in a better time, but there are always challenges. This morning, think about a time when you have been falsely accused of something? It’s happens a lot to me. Often, it seemed, in school, someone would do something behind the teacher’s back and when she turned around, I’d snicker, and she assumed I was guilty. There are times people try to make us into a scapegoat and take the blame for something we didn’t do. Or they accuse us as a way to cover their own shortcomings. Sometimes people are accused of serious things they did not do. Consider those who have been on death row, some for years, who have been exonerated thanks to DNA technology. Imagine how they must have felt when they walked through the prison doors.
As we saw last week, Paul has been locked up for two years. He’s innocent of the charges against him, but because of the political situation, he stays in prison. The Jewish authorities are unable to make a convincing case against Paul and the Romans don’t know what to do with him. They seem to think he’s innocent or at least he doesn’t deserve the death penalty, but they are not so willing to let him go. To do so, would create a problem with the Jews, and by this point in history, the Romans have enough problems with the Jews. So Paul remains in jail and there’s now a new governor. Read Acts 25:1-12. 
When I was sixteen years old, about six months after receiving my driver’s license, I was in a wreck. The best thing about this experience was that my mother was in the front seat. Seeing with her own eyes, she knew I wasn’t at fault. I had my seatbelt on but this was before shoulder harnesses and when the two cars hit, the seatbelt held my waist as I was thrown forward into the steering wheel. I hit it on the bridge of my nose and was knocked for a while. When I came too, I wasn’t exactly sure what had happened. I had been driving on a road with three lanes in one direction and a car had suddenly cut in front of me as it attempted to make a right-hand turn out of the left-hand lane.
I hit the car in the front quarter panel of the passenger side. Both vehicles were totaled. The police and an ambulance arrived and I was put on a stretcher and sent to the hospital. I later learned a neighbor came by. He happened to be a state trooper although he was not on duty. He took my mother and siblings home. My mother called my father and he met at the hospital.
Shortly after my father arrived, as I was being released, the police officer showed up. He handed me a ticket saying I’d been following to close behind the car I had hit. “You’re crazy I yelled.” It wasn’t one of my finest hours. Thankfully my father was there. He told me to calm down and then asked the officer the position the cars and where the damage was at. The officer said my car had struck the woman in the front quarter panel. My dad kept his cool and said, “There was no physical way he could have been following behind and hit her where he did.” The officer dismissed what my father said, saying that was his findings and if didn’t agree, we could go to court. We did, and won. It didn’t hurt our case that our neighbor, the highway patrolman, drew several diagrams of the accident to prove our case.
Calling a police officer crazy wasn’t the brightest thing I’d ever done, but I can assure you that being handed a ticket for something I was not guilty was one of the worst feelings of my short life. I was angry. I was mad. I wanted revenge. In the world of things, such a response may seem way out of proportion, but in my teenage worldview, this was devastating. However, I would have been much better served if I had not been such a hothead. My response basically put the officer in the position of an adversary and left him no way out without looking weak.
I am sure some of you saw yesterday’s women’s U. S. Open finals and how Serena Williams lost her temper with the chair of the match. By not being able to let go of what she considered an unfair penalty (and many agreed with her that it wasn’t the right call) she ended up losing a game and that match.
Let’s now consider how Paul responded to the injustice he faced. He’s been imprisoned in Caesarea for two years. For two years, he’s locked up. Perhaps his cell was close enough to the shore that he can hear the surf. Day and day, Paul might have wanted nothing more than to take a walk along the beach at sunset… Instead, he remains behind bars in a stinky cell. For those two years, as we saw last week, he could have greased the hands of Felix, the governor, and he would be freed.[2] But that would not be right. In such a case, Paul would be adding to the corruption which had become prevalent in the Roman Empire. Two years of waiting, but he maintains control. He remains respectful… When Paul writes to Timothy, recalling his patience and encouraging Timothy to be patience, we know Paul is talking out of experience.[3]
But then there’s a new governor. Felix is reassigned and along comes Festus, who reminds me of Matt Dillion’s sidekick in the old Gunsmoke shows. Festus served as governor of from approximately 60 to 62 A.D.[4] We don’t know much about him as compared to what we know about Felix, but from what we read in our text, it appears he wasn’t as corrupt as Felix. The first thing he does after arriving in the providence is to go to Jerusalem to meet with the Jewish leaders. He knows they are the source of his troubles, but he wants to make sure that he knows them and they know him. Perhaps, he thinks, he can do something for them to bring them around to his side. We are not even sure when he makes the trip to Jerusalem that he knows why Paul is rotting in jail. The leaders in Jerusalem enlighten him. Two years later, they’re still interested in killing Paul.
Festus doesn’t grant the Jewish leaders request to transfer Paul to Jerusalem, but he wasted no time in attending to the situation, inviting them to come to Caesarea and make their case against Paul. So Paul is once again hauled before the tribune. It appears at this point the case brought against Paul is so ridiculous that he can defend himself by just denying it. But Festus, wanting to do something for the Jews, asks if Paul would be willing to go with him to have the trial in Jerusalem. He probably knew nothing of the plots to kill Paul. Those assassins who had pledged not to eat until Paul is dead would have been beyond famished by this point.[5] Knowing this, Paul decides to claim a right that appears to have been the privilege of citizens. He asks that he be tried, not in Jerusalem but it Rome, before Caesar. [6]
Interestingly, at this time in history, around the year 60, Nero would have been Caesar. The name Nero strikes terror in us, 2,000 years later, but his first few years of office was actually pretty normal. It wasn’t until later that Nero became mad.[7]
Festus grants Paul his request. At least, he probably thought to himself, “I’ll soon be done with Paul.”
Paul shows us how to behave when we are accused unjustly. Unlike me with that police officer or Serena at the U. S. Open, Paul keeps his cool. He’s patient. He trusts the system, not because he has confidence in the system or the judge, but because he is confidence in the Lord. Paul shows us that following Jesus isn’t easy. It doesn’t mean bad things won’t happen. They will. They do. What’s important is how we act when they bad things happen. Do you trust in God’s providence and blessings? Or do we complain and act like we have lost all control and are doomed? Paul remains cool. He shows a willingness to accept the punishment if someone can prove that he’s guilty. Otherwise, he willing to remain in the Roman system of justice as his appeal is taken to Rome. And while this appeal is on-going, Paul can use his time to further the gospel. We’ll see more of this over the next few sermons. Paul doesn’t see this as a defeat but an opportunity to live out his calling for Jesus Christ. And maybe that’s our best lesson from this passage. Don’t let false accusations get you down, see how they might open up new possibilities.
You know, Martin Luther King found those times he was locked up in jail to be freeing. During the heat of the Civil Rights movement, things were so busy that he didn’t have time to even think. But when he was locked away for a few days, he was able to think and to write. It was during one of these periods that King was able to write what’s perhaps his best known piece, “The Letter from the Birmingham Jail.” Picking on his friend Ralph Abernethy after the Birmingham incident, King did say that the next time he planned to be arrested, he was going to make sure he did it with people who didn’t snore.[8]
Paul, too, used his time in chains to write.[9] Changing our perspective from seeing obstacles to seeing to seeing opportunity will help us find strength to get through such times. Furthermore, by being steadfast and faithful during such challenges, we demonstrate to the world our faith and hope. There are many people out there needing to see that Christians aren’t just all talk, that we really do have confidence in our Lord Jesus Christ. So we should take the high road, while trusting in the Lord and letting him receive the glory. Amen.
©2018
[1] William H. Willimon, Acts (1988, Louisville, KY: WJK, 2010), 174.
[2] Acts 24:26.
[3] 2 Timothy 3:10, 4:2.
[4] Beverly Roberts Gaventa Acts (Nashville: Abingdon, 2003), 332.
[5] Acts 23:12-15.
[6] There is debate among scholars if the right to appeal to Caesar was granted to all citizens. See Bruce, 478 and Gaventa, 334-335.
[7] F. F. Bruce, The Book of Acts (Grand Rapids, Eerdman, 1986), 479
[8] I am not sure where I read about King using the time in jail to think. His comment on snoring was quoted by Taylor Branch, Parting the Waters: America in the King Years, 1954-63, (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1988), 706.
[9] It is generally considered that Paul’s letters to the Ephesians, Philippians, and Colossians were written in prison. See Ephesians 4:1, Philippians 1:14, and Colossians 4:10.
Beth Lindsay Templeton, Uncharted Journey: On the Challenges of Getting Older and Other Transitions (Greenville SC: FPS Press, 2018), 169 pages.
This book consists of 42 letters written by a secret admirer to the reader. The letters vary in size, from one to six pages. Each begins with a quote that comes from a variety of sources. A number of the quotes are from the Psalms. Other quotes are from those familiar to me such as Anne Morrow Lindbergh, Henri Nouwen, Scott Peck, Reynolds Price, Richard Rohr and Barbara Brown Taylor. But there are many other tidbits of wisdom quoted by those I did not know. Following the quote, Templeton encourages readers as they deal with issues such as retirement, moving, children being distant, broken relationships, downsizing, divorce, and death. Her voice is gentle. Instead of giving definite answers, she opens up a number of new possibilities for the reader. Throughout these letters, the reader is encouraged to go easy on his or herself, to embrace limitations while maintaining a curiosity about the future. The past is to be cherished as a preparation for the future. Although I won’t spoil it, at the end of the book, readers learns the identity of their own secret admirer.
I met Templeton recently at a conference held by the Presbyterian Church USA Board of Pensions. In introducing this recent book of hers, she told about how the final proofs came just days after her own husband had died unexpectedly from pneumonia. Reading the proofs, she said she appreciated the advice that she didn’t remember writing. The book is published in memory of her husband who helped with editing and the cover photography.
While I am still six or eight years away from retirement, this book has given me a lot to consider. I can also think of many people who might find her words encouraging, especially retired persons who are moving into continuing care facilities or who have to make difficult decisions about loved ones or unhealthy relationships. While much of the book is tied to aging, there are lessons for everyone in transition. I recommend you check it out.
Bubba and Squirt’s Big Dig to China by Sherry Ellis
My friend, Sherry Ellis, has just published a new children’s book about two kids digging their way to China. In kicking off its publication, she asked her blogging friends to write about where they’d want to end up if they could dig through the earth to the other side. Of course, this isn’t possible. I think the Russians dug the deepest in the ground and it was only 40,000 feet, not even deep enough to break through the earth’s thin crust. This was done in Siberia, where they had a lot of available labor for digging (and drilling). They must have knocked off early in the afternoon and hit into the vodka, as they only had a mere 20,858,240 feet more to go to break through the other side. Why didn’t finish the task at hand?
If I could dig straight through the earth starting here in Savannah, according to a really neat website (www.antipodesmap.com), I just might find the missing Malaysian airplane (Flight 370). Of course, I better hold my breath when I pop up on the other side of the earth because I’d be about 1000 kilometers west of Perth Australia (where they think the plane went down) and under 1000s of feet of water. But wouldn’t that be something? Of course, there would be many issues to overcome such as the heat of the earth’s core. And then there’s the problem with breaking through the bottom of the Indian Ocean. And think of the dire consequences for our planet as water rushes into the core and cools it off. Imagine a giant geyser in the center of the Indian Ocean. I’m sure we’d see climate change like we never imagined. But enough nonsense. I don’t feel like digging this afternoon. I’ll put it off for a week or two. And when I do, I’ll have to angle my tunnel a bit and I can end up someplace fun (and dry), like Mongolia.
Of course, if you have kids or grand-kids who are curious enough to wonder what they’d find as they dig through the earth, check out Sherry’s book! It sounds like it’s a lot of fun. Here’s where you can find the book and a little more about the it:
BUY LINKS:
Amazon
Barnes and Noble
iTunes
Kobo
Books-a-Million
Amazon UK/ Amazon CA
BLURB: Squirt doesn’t believe Bubba can dig a hole to China. But when the hole swallows them, the kids find themselves in Xi’an, China, surrounded by Terracotta Warriors.
It gets worse when the ghost of the first emperor of China appears. He tells them they can’t go home until they find his missing pi. The kids don’t know where to begin until they meet a girl and her grandmother who promise to help find the pendant.
Soon they realize they are being followed. And they are no closer to finding the missing pi. Will Bubba and Squirt ever make it back home?
About the Author: Sherry Ellis is an award-winning author and professional musician who plays and teaches the violin, viola, and piano. When she is not writing or engaged in musical activities, she can be found doing household chores, hiking, or exploring the world. Ellis, her husband, and their two children live in Atlanta, Georgia.
Author Links:
Website / Blog / Goodreads
Facebook / Twitter / Amazon
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
Acts 24:24-27
September 2, 2018
What do we say when we are called or have an opportunity to speak to those in power? How do we behave? How do we act? Speaking to power is always dangerous but as Christians, we’re to speak the Truth, as we’ll see in today’s scripture.
A few weeks ago, before taking a break from our journey through the book of Acts, we saw that Paul was whisked out of Jerusalem by the Roman army. In Jerusalem, he was being hunted down by a group of over 40 assassins. Now Paul is safe in Caesarea, a Roman city along the coast. It’s here that the governor has moved his headquarters. During Jesus’ time, Pontius Pilate maintained his presence in Jerusalem. Roughly 20 years later, things are in turmoil. It’s just seven or eight years before Judaea erupts into war as the Jews throw off the Roman yoke. But that’s in the future. Now, to be safe, the capital is in Caesarea and the Romans are just trying to keep everything under control.
The Romans, wanting to get to the bottom of this conflict between Paul and the Jewish authorities, call them both in before Felix, the governor. Both sides makes their case. We heard in the previous scripture reading Paul’s side of the argument. Paul begins by acknowledging the Roman governor as the rightful judge and he’s willing to have his case heard before him. He tells how he is still worshipping the God of his ancestors and how those in the sect known as “The Way” (that being the church) are being persecuted because of their belief in the resurrection.
Felix, we’re told, was well informed about “The Way.” We know his wife, who’ll play a role in our message today, was a Jew. She was probably Felix’s source of knowledge about the faith. After having heard from both the Jewish authorities and Paul, Felix declines to make a judgment until he hears from Lysias, the head of the Roman forces in Jerusalem. He’s the man who kept Paul from being killed by the mob. So Paul remains in prison, although he is given some freedom. His friends can visit him and see to his needs. This is where our reading begins this morning.
How do we speak Truth to power? How do we stand up before those who have the power to stomp us and address issues that are not popular? This might be something we think doesn’t apply to us, but it does. We start out early, when we address our parents. Later on, it’s our teachers, the principal, and a police officer. We address power when we speak to our boss and later maybe to the Chairman of the Board. If we’ve ever been in court addressing a judge or talked with a politician, we’ve spoken to those in power.
There is an often-told story, and I’ve told it before, about Hugh Latimer. Latimer, one of the leaders of the English Reformation, was about to give a sermon. He knew that Henry the 8th was in the audience. As he waited to enter the pulpit he heard a voice say to him, “Latimer, remember you are preaching before King Henry, who has the power to take your life away.” But then he heard another voice, “Latimer, remember, you are preaching before the King of Kings.” It’s all about perspective, isn’t it?
Thankfully, I don’t find myself preaching before Kings and those with absolute power very often… Except, of course, every Sunday I’m standing before the King of Kings.
Our reading today may seem rather benign. On the surface, it appears as if it is just the factual accounts of what happened. But this is one of those passages in which a little understanding of its context opens it up wide for us to see the truth found within. When you read it on a surface level, you miss the Roman soap opera that’s going on behind the scenes.
Felix is an interesting man. He came from humble origin. His family appears to have originally been slaves. His brother, who was a freedman, worked for Claudius, who’d later become the Roman emperor. Felix became governor of Judaea and served in that capacity from 52 to 59 A.D. This was a time when the Jewish population was becoming restless and Felix was ruthless. He stomped out any threat to the Roman authority. He was so brutal that many moderate Jews who had been okay with Roman rule became (as we’d say today) radicalized. Brute strength has a way of doing that. In addition to his ruthless rule, Felix was also a charmer among women. He had three wives, all who were princesses. He took the cream of the crop. His first wife was the granddaughter of Anthony and Cleopatra. Of Felix, one historian noted, “He exercised the power of a king with the mind of a slave.”[1]
The artist must not have read Josephus’ as Drusilla isn’t exactly a beauty and appears to be much older than 19.
Sitting next to Felix in our passage this morning is his third wife, Drusilla. She’s Jewish and has obviously informed her husband about “The Way,” as the early church was known. Drusilla also has a backstory. She is the daughter of Herod Agrippa I, who if you remember back to Acts 12, had James, the brother of John, killed.[2] “She did exceed all other women in beauty,” according to the Jewish historian Josephus. She is still quite young, probably 19 at the time she and Felix sent for Paul. When she was even younger, she was married to the king of a small Syrian state. But when Felix set his eyes upon her, he did what he could to woo her away. Her first marriage was dissolved and she married Felix. They had a son, Agrippa, named after her father. And an interesting side note that helps put this in context of the time, her son would die in 79 AD at the eruption of Mount Vesuvius which destroy Pompeii.[3]
Now you have the backstory to our passage today. Paul is being called before two people who are guilty of adultery. One of them is guilty of serial adultery. Furthermore, Felix isn’t the most honest of governors. As Luke indicates in the text, he is hoping to get a bribe from Paul in order for Paul to obtain his release. While there were laws against bribery, by this era, the Roman government was becoming corrupt and those in power often expected their backs to be scratched before they granted a favor.
So Paul is summoned by a corrupt governor and his wife, both of whom are guilty of adultery. And they are asking him about his faith in Jesus Christ? What would you say in such a situation? If you are Paul, what do you say? If Paul plays his cards right, maybe they’ll let him go free. Paul could have talked about love and forgiveness and being nice… But that’s not what Paul does. As one commentator wrote, “Paul is God’s faithful prophet, who like the prophets of Israel boldly proclaims the truth of God, despite the possible cost.”[4]
Paul speaks to this corrupt governor about justice. Do you think that went over well to a man accustomed to bribes? Paul then moves on to self-control. How does that sound to a couple known for their adultery, especially Felix who has multiple experiences with the sin? And then Paul talks about the coming judgment. The couple who were curious about the Way, the Christian faith, are now squirming in their seats. I can envision Felix, his face red, the veins in his neck protruding as his blood pressure rises. Felix is usually the judge; now Paul warns him of an impending judgment in which he will stand before the throne. Felix calls the guards and orders them to take Paul away.
Felix could have confessed and repented and been forgiven. But that would mean he would have to humble himself. That would mean he’d have to give up extracting bribes (and procuring brides). That would mean he’d have to live only on his salary. He’d have to give up the goose that lays the golden egg, and that was just too much. So Paul remains in jail, as Felix attempts to put this encounter out of his mind while hoping to receive a bribe that never comes.
So how does Paul speak truth to power? If you go back to verse 10, you’ll see that Paul honors Felix. He’s been in power six or seven years at this point. But even while honoring Felix and his position, Paul speaks to his sin. Paul speaks truth to Felix and Drusilla. From what we know, Paul didn’t go around gossiping about the two. He didn’t belittle them behind their back, nor to their face. But when we was called before them, he told the truth. He told the truth even though it didn’t do him any good.
By the way, always beware when someone says they’re just telling the truth when you know it’s done to further their own goals. Most likely that a selective truth and that’s not what happens here. Telling the truth as a way to obtain something isn’t courage. Courage is telling the truth knowing the risks. Courage is telling the truth to King Henry, knowing he can have your head removed. Courage is telling the truth to Felix, knowing he can let you languish in prison.
Furthermore, in addition to telling the truth, Paul refuses to pay a bribe. He’s not going to become involved in the corruption that’s rampart within the Roman world. He wants to keep his conscience clear before God and all people.[5]
As Christians, we have an obligation to honor those in positions of authority. But we also have a higher obligation to God. When called upon, we’re to keep our conscience clean, to avoid corruption, and to tell the truth. Amen.
©2018
[1] Tacitus, Histories, volume 9. The quote (along with much of this information on Felix) is reprinted in F. F. Bruce, The Book of Acts (Grand Rapids: Eerdman, 1986), 472-473. Other sources of information on Felix include Johannes Munck, The Acts of the Apostles (New York: Doubleday, 1967), 229-231.
[2] Acts 12:1-3.
[3] Josephus, The Antiquities of the Jews Book 20, Chapter 7 (137-144).
[4] William H. Willimon, Acts (1988, Louisville, KY: WJK, 2010), 175.
[5] Acts 24:16.
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
August 26, 2018
John 6:60-69
I’m stepping away from our journey through Acts today and want us to take a look at a passage in John’s gospel. This passage comes at the end of the chapter that begins with Jesus feeding the 5,000. Think about it. Put ourselves back into time. Five loaves and a couple of fish feeding over ½ of the residents of Skidaway Island! It must have been a pretty decent meal. After cleaning up, with plenty of left-overs, there are some ready to crown Jesus king. But Jesus wasn’t interested in being this kind of king, so he slipped away.[1]
The next day, the crowd catches up with Jesus. And guess what, they want more bread. If Jesus isn’t going to be the king, at least he can be the head baker. Jesus, in turn, offers himself, as the bread of life. The crowd has a hard time hearing and understanding what Jesus is talking about. They want Wonder Bread, or maybe some pumpernickel, not some metaphorical loaf that refers to Jesus’ body.[2] That sounds gross.
Today I’ll read the end of John 6, verses 60 through 69, in which we see the fallout from the problem the crowd and the disciples have with Jesus’ teachings. It’s the day after the big picnic. In these passages, we witness Jesus’ rejection by the crowd and learn that although the disciples stick with him, even they have questions. This passage leads us to ask ourselves what we want from Jesus. Why do we stick with him? READ JOHN 6:60-69.
What a difference a day makes. A day earlier, the crowd was ready to forcefully take Jesus and plant him on the throne. A day earlier, the crowd had high expectations. A day earlier, everyone was on Cloud Nine. Now, the crowd thins out. They’re not liking what they’re hearing. Not only is there no more free bread, Jesus’ words challenge their sacred ideas about life and religion.
Imagine the scene. Jesus and the crowd are probably still on the beach. Jesus sits in the traditional rabbinical way of teaching, as the crowd gathered around him. They listen to Jesus talk about his body as bread for their souls and shake their heads. Slowly at first, a few begin to walk away, heading back to their boats, to their fields, or into the village. As Jesus continues, talking about the need for his body, more of the crowd depart. Pretty soon, all that are left are the twelve, the disciples who have been with Jesus for a while. And they’re not very happy. They’re mumbling among themselves. Small groups form as they conspire for a way to force Jesus’ hand. Is this guy really the Messiah? Hearing their rumbles, Jesus stands and walks over to where they are gathering and asks them point blank, “Does this offend you?”
“Does this offend you? Does the gospel offend you?” What a question! How would you answer? Interestingly, John doesn’t give us the disciples answer. Considering the situation, I think it’s safe to assume that even if they didn’t say anything, their thinking isn’t much different than those who have departed. Standing there, they shake their heads and kick the dirt, wondering just what kind of mess they’ve gotten themselves into.
What is so offensive here? Essentially, Jesus is saying that we have to depend on him for life. Jesus is not just some great teacher or a magic worker who can conjure up loaves of bread. He’s the very source of abundant life and unless we are willing to stand with him when everyone else backs away, we’ll miss out.
Jesus continues his teaching, asking the disciples what they’d think if they saw him ascend to where he was before. This really isn’t anything new. John, the author of the gospel, has been telling us all along of Jesus teaching that he’s come down from heaven. He’s come to do the work of the Father, to bring God’s message to people who are lost in the darkness. He’s come to bring life. Yet, not all believe him; not all accept his teachings. Quite a few, most in fact, don’t believe. Jesus even reveals that one of the twelve will betray him.
Finally in verse 65, Jesus reaffirms that nobody can come to him unless God, the Father, grants it. This idea has already come up several times in John’s gospel.[3] It affirms the doctrine of predestination, a teaching that’s not any more popular today than it was in Jesus’ day. We don’t like the idea of God being totally in control; it goes against our cherish belief of self-dependence, but we have to deal with it. The doctrine emphasizes what Jesus has been saying all along, that salvation isn’t something we do. God is the actor; we’re the audience.[4] Yes, like an audience, we respond, but if it weren’t for God’s action, we’d still be up the creek without a paddle.
Flashback to John 3: “Do you want to find new life,” Jesus asks? “If you do, you’ve got to be born again.” “What,” Nicodemus asks, “we can’t be born again.” “You’re right,” Jesus said, “You can’t do it; God has to do it.”[5] Throughout the Gospel of John, the emphasis is on what God does for us in Jesus Christ.
But do we accept it? Ultimately this is a question we each have to ask ourselves. Do we receive Jesus’ teachings and his gift? Or do we reject it? Maybe, because Jesus is now spiritually and not physically present, we try to get around the question by making it palatable to our tastes? We interpret his words so that they don’t offend us quite as much? We’re probably all a bit guilty here. It’s the same as rejecting Jesus. But those present in first century didn’t have such an option. The Master was right in front of them; their only recourse was to leave. But the 12 stayed. The 12 stayed because they knew there was something special about Jesus. Simon Peter sums it up when he says, “Lord, to whom can we go? You have the words of eternal life.” But I bet he was thinking, “Yeah, Jesus, your teachings are offensive, but we know they’re true. And since there’s no other place we can go, we’ll stick beside you. We don’t really want to but where else can we go?”
You know, the disciples’ decision to stick with Jesus was both bold and dangerous. It was bold because it wasn’t the popular thing to do. Everyone was deserting him. People were thinking this ship is sinking and it’s time to get off. The disciples, too, could have easily jumped ship, and one eventually did. In fact, that’s the easy thing to do, give up when things don’t look good. After all, it’s becoming dangerous because people are taking offense at Jesus’ teachings. Who knows where this is leading, the disciples must have wondered.
Jesus points out the hypocrisy of the crowds, of those who think of themselves as religious. Jesus is right. As he says in the next chapter; the world hates him because he exposes the sin and corruption that is so prevalent.[6] Whistle blowers are seldom popular. Jesus exposes the corruption of those who are supposed to be good, the religious folks, and they really don’t like being told they’re not toeing the line. It’s dangerous for the disciples to stay beside someone who is so hated, someone who is going to end up on the cross, but they stayed.
As I was looking over my sermon this morning, I couldn’t help but to think of John McCain who died yesterday and how he stayed as POW in North Vietnam even when he had the chance to come home early. By staying, he showed character, as did the disciples.
The church has come a long ways in the past two millenniums, but we haven’t been able to fully escape the tragedy of human existence that Jesus exposed. We want to think of ourselves as good and noble, and to be able to do it all by ourselves, but deep down sin lurks and we can never escape it by ourselves. We need help. We need to be united with Jesus.
We want to be able to save ourselves. We want to be good enough! But we can’t. Paul Scherer, a great Lutheran preacher of ages past, once said that the joy of religion is not being good. People get bored with being good. The joy of religion is trusting God in the presence of some great darkness and waiting for the light to break.”[7] Or, to put it in the context of our story today, the joy of religion is sticking with Jesus when the crowds disperse because you know in your hearts that there is nowhere else we can go to find life. Yes, we want to save ourselves, but we realize it’s a futile hope. We have to stick with the source of life; we have to depend upon God.
The crowds came to Jesus hoping to have their bellies filled. But being filled doesn’t last; hunger soon gnaws again. Instead of bread for the gut, Jesus offers bread for the soul. But even this bread isn’t an instant solution that solves all our problems. Nor should that be our goal. After all, Jesus said if you’re satisfied with yourself, you’re already received your award.[8] Instead, Jesus wants the crowd to thirst and hunger for a total transformation that could only come from God.[9] The crowd wasn’t interested. Many people today are not interested, as more and more people are dropping out of church and no longer seeing the importance of Jesus. But the question before is, “Are we?” Are we willing to stake everything—our reputation, even our lives—on Jesus?
We live in a fallen world and wrestle day in and day out with sin and evil. We all need to examine ourselves. Do we think we can take the burdens of life on by ourselves? Do we think we can be good enough? Or do we acknowledge our need for a Savior and cling to Jesus because only he has the words to eternal life? I opt to cling to Jesus. Even if everyone abandons him, where else can I go to find the words of life? What about you? What choice do you make? Amen.
©2018
[1] John 6:5-15.
[2] John 6:22-59.
[3] See John 3:18; 5:19-30; 6:27; and 6:39.
[4] In addition to the references above, see John 1:10, 3:16-18, and 5:17. See also John Calvin, Institutes of the Christian Religion, 1.6.2.
[5] John 3:1-15.
[6] John 7:6-7.
[7] Quoted by John H. Leith, The Reformed Imperative: What the Church has to Say that No One Else Can Say (Philadelphia: Westminster, 1988), 94.
[8] Matthew 6:2.
[9] Luke 16:15; 18:9-14. See Alexander Schmemann, For the Life of the World (Crestwood, NY: St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press, 1988), 79.
Carey Nieuwhof, Didn’t See It Coming: Overcoming the 7 Greatest Challenges That No One Expects and Everyone Experiences (New York: WaterBrook, 2018), 211 pages.
In this book Nieuwhof draws on personal events within his own life as he outlines seven challenges we all face. For each challenge, there is a chapter describing the problem followed by a chapter on strategies for pushing through the challenge and into a new and more vibrant way of living. All the chapters open with stories that describe in a personal way how the challenge arose or how it can be handled. The blend of stories, insights, and suggestions made the eading enjoyable.
The seven challenges and the antidotes for each are:
- Cynicism. (Be curious)
- Compromise (Develop character)
- Disconnection (Slow down)
- Irrelevance (Love the Mission, not the Method)
- Pride (Gratitude)
- Burn Out (Live today so you can thrive tomorrow)
- Emptiness (God’s Kingdom)
My own personal experiences did not always mirror Nieuwhof’s. He saw cynicism as a problem for those in their 30s, when he face this problem. As I read about it, I saw myself as a cynic in my late teen and early 20s. Have grown up when issues of race, integrations, Vietnam and Watergate were in the forefront, I was filled with cynicism. By the time I entered my 30s, I was becoming more hopeful. I agree with Nieuwhof that Christians should be the most hopeful people around, but we know that is often not the case. I also agree that curiosity can lead us beyond cynicism to a more hopeful future.
In his chapters on disconnection, he notes how technology makes an age old problem of being disconnected with others worse, but it is not the only reason we are disconnected. We have a need to slow down and to learn how to have conversations with others.
As he discusses irrelevance, he shows how we are wired to resist change and how the older and more successful we become the more conservative we are, which may lead to our own irrelevance. Addressing the church, he argues that we focus on the mission, not the methods. The mission never changes, but the methods are always changing. While the world around the church is always changing faster than the church, the church will need to change to have influence on the world.
With pride, Nieuwhof begins with a humorous story of spilling someone on a pair of pants and how he was so worried with how the person he was going to meet with was going to judge him. This allows him to make the helpful distinction between narcissism and pride. We all suffer from pride. Narcissism might seem to be pride on steroids, but it is actually a clinical condition that requires professional help. When we can foster humility and not be comparing ourselves to others, we can avoid the pitfalls of pride.
The chapters on burnout were very personal, as Nieuwhof describes going from a high (a once-in-a-lifetime experience) to the depths of depression. He admitted his thoughts on suicide and how normal things that used to bring him joy were hollow. While he encouraged spiritual connections, he also noted the need for trained counseling to help overcome depression.
Nieuwhof shows how one who has been very successful in his field (he is an attorneys and the founding pastor of one of Canada’s largest and fastest growing churches) will when at the top of their game feel empty. Too often that comes from us putting the focus on what we’re doing, not on what we are working for. We need to become excited about God’s mission, not our individual tasks within it. He correctly notes how people don’t become involved in a church to fulfill the pastor’s dream, but to become a part of God’s work in the world. This is a helpful distinction.
In his closing chapter (Calvin meets Hobbes) and to my pleasant surprise, he draws on the great theologian (John Calvin) who insisted at the beginning of his Institutes of the Christian Religion that without self-knowledge, we can have no knowledge of God. He suggests (as others have done before him) that Calvin is the alternative to the philosopher Thomas Hobbes belief that “life is nasty, brutish, and short.” Then he links Calvin’s internal exploration to Daniel Goleman’s idea of emotional intelligence (I highly recommend Goleman’s, Emotional Intelligence). We have to know not only ourselves, but how we affect those around us, if we want to be successful. Our self-awareness will draw us back into the arms of our loving Creator God.
My favorite quote and something to ponder: “‘The gateway to life is very narrow and the road is difficult, and only a few ever find it.’ If you read this text purely as a commentary on becoming a Christian, it’s inconsistency with the rest of the New Testament message, which says our salvation doesn’t depend on our goodness; our salvation instead depends on our trusting our lives to Jesus…” (51)
I was provided an advanced copy of this book for an unbiased review. The book is scheduled to be published in early September 2018.
John O’Donohue, To Bless the Space Between Us: A Book of Blessings (New York: Doubleday, 2008), 223 pages
In the winter of 2000, I bumped into a Buddhist monk at a temple outside of Sunch’on, South Korea. He immediately stepped back, put his hands together in a prayerful fashion, and bowed in the most reverent way. Even though he didn’t speak English nor did I speak Korean, and that we were of two different religious traditions, I felt blessed. Our world needs more blessings and I am glad to have been lent a copy of this book to read.
John O’Donohue was an Irish priest who devoted much of his life to understanding Celtic history and spirituality. In this book, he draws upon Celtic thought as he offers up numerous blessings as well as brief insights into various types of blessings. “It would be infinitely lonely to live in a world without blessing,” O’Donohue writes in his introduction. “The word blessing evokes a sense of warmth and protection.” Blessings are an invocation, he suggests, that call us to image the “fulfillment of our desires.”
The chapters in this book follow a cycle, from “Beginnings” to “Beyond Endings.” Each chapter begins with an explanation, followed by a number of blessings. Chapter 1, “Beginnings,” imagines the start of something new—a new day, a new year, a new home or position. Between the beginning and ending, chapters focus on “desires,” “Thresholds,” Homecomings, “States of the Heart” and “Callings.” I especially enjoyed the chapter on “Thresholds.” Each stage in life, we cross a threshold and have an opportunity to pause and receive a blessing for what we’ve experienced and what lies ahead.
This book would be a wonderful companion for those wanting to come alongside of others during significant times in their lives. Three are blessings for those going through hardships such as illness, imprisonment, and parenting children through difficult circumstances. At such times, when we don’t know what to say, a blessing can be encouraging.
The final chapter of the book encourages us to reclaim the “lost art of blessings.” As the Celtic world was steeped in the oral tradition, blessings were learned and handed down from one generation to the next. Each blessing marked occurence of an event or a time in life that was significant. Reading this book, I would hope that the reader would be encouraged to create his or her own blessings to offer to others.
Although the book is not overly religious, it does end with a lovely poem titled, “The Eyes of Jesus.” The late O’Donohue, a former priest, acknowledges that for him, the presentation of a blessing was a part of his ministry with followers of Christ. Anyone who is a follower of Christ would benefit from this book, but the book is not so overly religious so that that those from other traditions wouldn’t benefit. There is a gentle earthliness in this book which calls us all to be kind and to hold out for the best for others.
Below are parts of three blessings from the book that provides an insight into his style:
In Praise of Water
Let us bless the grace of water:
The imagination of the primeval ocean
Where the first forms of life stirred
And emerged to dress the vacant earth
With warm quilts of color.
The well whose liquid root worked
Through the long night of clay,
Trusting ahead of itself openings
That would yet yield to its hearing
Until at last it arises in the desire of light
To discover the pure quiver of itself
Flowing crystal clear and free
Through delighted emptiness.
The courage of a river to continue believe
In the slow fall of ground,
Always falling farther
Toward the unseen ocean….
Blessed be water,
Our first mother…
For the Prisoner
Caged in a cold, functional cell,
Far from the comfort of home
With none of your own things,
In a place that is gray and grim,
Where sounds are seldom gentle,
Amidst the shuffle of dumbed feet,
The crossword of lost voices,
The one constant note
Is the dead, trap-shut sound
Of unrelenting doors that
Make walls absolute.
Though you. Have lost the outside world,
May you discover the untold journey
That awaits you in the inner world. …
May your eyes look up and find
The bright line of an inner horizon
That will ground and encourage you
For that distant day when your new feet
Will step out onto the pastures of freedom.
For Loneliness
When the light lessens,
Causing colors to lose their courage,
And your eyes fix on the empty distance
That can open on either side
Of the surest line
To make all that is
Familiar and near
Seem suddenly foreign,
When the music of talk
Breaks apart into noise
And you hear your heart louden
While the voices around you
Slow down to leaden echoes…
Turning the silence
Into something stony and cold,
When the old ghost come back
To feed on everywhere you felt sure….
…Cradle yourself like a child
Learning to trust what emerges,
So that gradually
You may come to know
that deep in that black hole
You will find that blue flower
That holds the mystical light
Which will illuminate in you
The glimmer of springtime.
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
Acts 23:13-24
August 12, 2018
We often pray to God for help and protection. At least, I know I do. Hopefully you also trust the Lord enough to bring your troubles to him in prayer. But just how does God help and protect us? How are we saved? Not just from our sin which is through faith in the grace of Jesus Christ, but how are we saved from the danger we face daily? We’ll see an answer to this question in today’s text and sermon. God’s intervention into our lives is not always a supernatural event.
Last week, Paul was taken by the Romans to the Sanhedrin, the Jewish leaders in Jerusalem. The Roman commander is curious as to what they have against Paul. He doesn’t find out anything except that the crowd is about ready to tear Paul apart. The Commander orders Paul to be brought back safely to the barracks. That night the Lord came to Paul and assures him that he has done well and will now be allowed to take the gospel message to Rome. This is where we will pick up our reading. Read Acts 23:13-24.
In Alice Hoffman’s wonderful novel, The Dovekeepers, we meet four women whose lives intersect in Judean desert, at Masada, after the destruction of Jerusalem in 70 AD. One of the women is Yael. Her mother died when she was born. The lost broke her father’s heart and he often took it out on her. Her father, who was also devotedly religious despite his treatment of his daughter, was an assassin. Toward the time of the Jewish revolt against Rome in 66 AD, there were so many assassins that they could have formed a guild. These assassins did what they could to revenge deaths, to take out enemies, and to eliminate those who were too friendly with the Romans. They did their work in the dark, quietly and stealthy. They were feared for they could do their deed and slip away before anyone had an idea that a knife had been stuck into the back of their prey.
With this background, it doesn’t seem so surprisingly that there were 40-some assassins willing to sign up to do-in Paul. They felt Paul was a threat to their faith and they set out to have him killed. They even took an oath not to eat or drink before Paul’s dies. These guys are serious. With Paul being guarded by the Romans, they are willing to risk their own death and the death of many of their comrades. Getting to Paul, when he was surrounded by Romans, wasn’t going to be easy or something they could stealthy do. It was an assignment that could be fatal.
With so many people out to get Paul, we now turn to how God protected the gospel’s best known missionary to the Roman world. The Bible is full of stories of God aiding his people. God gave Moses the skill to confront Pharaoh, the ability to drown his army, stopped the sun at Gibeon so Israel’s armies could finish the battle, and fire from heaven consumed not just Elijah’s sacrifice but also the prophets of Baal.[1] But those are extraordinary events. Most often, God answers our prayers in a non-supernatural matter.
There was a man and family who climbed up on the roof of his house during a flood. When they were all safe, they joined hands and prayed for God to deliver them. Pretty soon, a neighbor came by with a row boat offering to take the family to safety. “Nah,” the man said, “God will take care of us.” Later, a sheriff deputy in a rescue boat came by and the man waved him off saying, “God will take care of us.” The water kept rising, but he waved off the Coast Guard’s helicopter that hovered overhead. When the man arrived at the Pearly Gates later that night, soaking wet, he asked God why prayers were not answered. And God said, “What more did you want? I sent a neighbor, a sheriff deputy, and a helicopter…”
While God can perform miraculous deeds, most of the time God stays behind the scene as he did when he saved Paul from the assassins. The heathen Romans might seem an unlikely source of salvation, but God used them to provide safety for Paul.
You know, we don’t know a lot about Paul’s family. But here, in this text, we have just a glimpse as we learn that Paul has a nephew in Jerusalem. Perhaps he is studying there, as Paul did. Anyway, this young man get wind of the conspiracy against Paul and shares this information with Paul. The fact that Paul can freely receive visitors shows how the Romans are not treating him like a common criminal. Paul has his nephew share his information with the Roman commander. The commander knows it is not safe for Paul to be in Jerusalem. Furthermore, he knows that if Paul, a Roman citizen, dies while in his custody, there would be trouble for him. The commander makes plans to move Paul to Caesarea, a Roman city on the coast. There, Paul would be much safer.[2]
As I tried to emphasis earlier, things in Israel at this time are unsettled. Because there’s a large group of hidden assassins operating undercover, the Romans are not taking any chances. Had it been anyone else, they would have problem sent them to Caesarea with just a few guards, but because there is the possibility of a real battle, the commander orders 270 soldiers into action. 70 are on horseback, and Paul is riding in the midst of them. Surrounding them are 200 soldiers with spears. The assassins will have a hard time attacking this group and perhaps that was the commander’s idea. Or perhaps, because Paul is riding in the middle of the group, the assassins might not think anything of this detachment, not even knowing that Paul is among them. It was just the army conducting military exercises, something they’d all seen before.[3]
This contingent of solders travel throughout the night. This is not the first time Paul has to slip out of a city at night. Early in his ministry, after his conversion on the way to Damascus, he had to slip out of that city, being lowered from a window in the wall under the cover of darkness, in order to avoid death.[4] This time Paul isn’t alone. He is surrounded by soldiers. The foot soldiers march through the night and when they are safely away from Jerusalem, they return to the city while Paul and the mounted soldiers continue on. They deliver Paul to Felix, who is the head of the Roman government for this region.
As you look back over your life, do you see ways in which God has been there working to save you from disaster? I bet if you spent some time thinking about it, you’d come up with something. Last week I told a story about not taking a call that, in hindsight, I knew would be a disaster. I remember once hitch-hiking to get back to my car after a four day backpack in the mountains of Idaho. I thought for sure this open air jeep would pick me up, but he speed past me and, after I did get a ride, we came upon the overturned jeep burning beside the road. I was saved and didn’t even know it to later.
Perhaps God saved you from entering a toxic relationship or accepting a troubling job or saw that you were out of the way before tragedy struck. Think of the blessings those workers in the Twin Towers who were running late on 911 must have felt. Hopefully they have pondered what God wants them to do for the rest of their lives? Often times, we don’t see God’s hand moving in our lives, but it is there. Certainly, we are not saved from everything, but if God has something for us to do, we will be protected.
The theological term for all this is providence. Of course, this word derives from the word “to provide.” As a good shepherd keeps his flock safe, God’s providence provides for his people. Now this doesn’t mean that things will always go the way we would like, but it does mean that God is there watching over us just as God was there to watch over Paul. Paul still has a mission, he is to preach in Rome! And God was to make sure this would happen.
You know, shortly after hiking the Appalachian Trail someone asked me if I had met God along the trail. My response was that I had not seen any burning bushes, but that I had experienced some incredible sunrises and sunsets, seen some incredible place, met many wonderful people, and had found the strength necessary to complete the walk. Yes, God was there, and God is here. We often fail to see God’s hand guiding and protecting us, but his hand is there. Instead of lightning bolts and miraculous deeds, God often works quietly and behind the scenes, using natural events and things at hand, such as the Roman Empire, to carry out his work.
This week, think of how God has been active in your life. What do such stories tell you? Hopefully they increase your willingness to praise and give thanks to God. In addition, such stories should strengthen your testimony. It’s important for us to recall them so that we can tell others of how God has been active in our lives. I promise, we don’t always see it, but God is working behind the scenes. Amen.
©2018
[1] Exodus 4-14; Joshua 10:12-13., 1 Kings 18:20ff
[2]F. F. Bruce, The Book of Acts, (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1986), 457-458.
[3]Johannes Munk, The Acts of the Apostles (New York: Doubleday, 1967), 226.
[4] Acts 9:23-25.
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
Acts 22:30-23:11
August 5, 2018
How do we sustain ourselves when we feel compiled to stand up for the truth when others around disagree? Our passage today answers this question.
Paul is about to end his time in Jerusalem, as we see today in our walk through the ending of the Book of Acts. The last two Sundays, we have seen how Paul has been attacked and abused by the crowd. The Romans saved him, but the commander of the Roman presence in Jerusalem wonders just what Paul has done to make so many people mad. Last week, he thought he could “beat it out of Paul,” but changed his mind when he realized Paul is a Roman citizen. Having not been convicted of a crime, such torture against a citizen would have gotten the Roman officer in deep trouble. So today, he tries something else. Let’s see as we read. Read Acts 22:30-23:11. 
Three strikes and you’re out. Ever since Paul left Ephesus in Acts 19, there has been tension about his upcoming trip to Jerusalem. Against the advice of friends, Paul made his way to the Holy City, knowing things would probably not go well. Paul’s trip to Jerusalem was kind of like it was for the Macon Bacons coming to Savannah this past Tuesday, in which 40 some of us were in attendance to cheer on the home team.
How can we endure troubles and unpleasantness when we find ourselves unpopular in the world? As we’ve seen over the last two weeks, there’s been rioting and an attempt to kill Paul. It’s going to get worse. Knowing the circumstances, we might ask, why did he go there? There’s something wise about avoiding trouble. Even the Book of Proverbs encourages us to avoid the snares of death.[1] But Paul was convicted by God. Paul knew he had to go to Jerusalem. And even though Paul faced troubles, he knew God was with him.
And what did Paul accomplish by going to Jerusalem? Paul’s batting average in Jerusalem wasn’t good. We’re not told of any converts made. No one seems to be persuaded by his preaching. Instead, he swings and misses. In a way, Paul was kind of like the slugger for Macon this Tuesday who struck out in the first inning, winning a free banana donut for everyone in the crowd. Although, as far as I know, no one received any such treats in Jerusalem.
Paul’s first strike was when he was attacked by the mob at the temple. (Actually, he received more than one strike, as they were beating him). His second strike was when he addressed the crowd after he was saved by Roman soldiers. They listened for a while, then they rose up against him and the soldiers had to pull to safety. And today, for strike three, he addresses the Jewish Council. Why did Paul endure this? What’s God up to?
As the book of Job reminds us, we don’t know what’s going on behind the scene, within the heavenly council.[2] We are mortals. We are to be faithful to our calling and to do that which we feel called the best we can. Paul may have even wondered why he was in are natural.
Four months before accepting the call to come to Skidaway, I had been offered another call. I agreed to come and preach before the congregation, but as the weekend approached, I realized all was not well in this land of new possibilities. There was a very vocal minority within the congregation who let it be know they had a problem with my more orthodox theology.
While I knew there were unsettled things before me, I went to that church for a weekend visit. Those who felt my position was too conservative came out in force and it made it a difficult few days. My words were twisted. I felt verbally abused. But strangely, I never doubted that I wasn’t supposed to be there. I got up that Sunday morning and preached, like Paul, with a clear conscience. I felt God’s presence. Members of the Pastor Nominating Committee were blown away. They had watched a dozen or so of my sermons, and liked what they had seen. Several of them told me this was by far the best and most forceful sermon they’d heard from me. But when it was over, I knew that if I had accepted that call, I would split the church. God let me know that I had done what I was supposed to do. So I turned down the call. It was hard. It was as if I was a dog leaving with my tail between my legs. I felt as if I was pawn in some cosmic chess match.
This week, when pondering this text, my experience in the winter of 2014 came back to haunt me. I expect that Paul, too, felt as if he was a pawn in some cosmic chess match. It happens. Ever have to stand up for what is right? Ever have to stand up for the truth when there is a hostile crowd in your face? Have you had to stand up to a bully. We might get a bit bloody, but we must remain firm because we know it is the right thing to do. Sometimes, like Job, we just don’t know what God is up to. We have to trust the Almighty and be assured that God is with us.
Our text begins with the Roman commander arranging for Paul to meet before the Jewish Council, also known as the Sanhedrin. The commander is charged with keeping peace in Jerusalem and Paul appears to be a lightning rod for trouble. Everywhere he goes, a riot nearly breaks out. Wanting to understand what’s causing this, he goes with Paul to meet with the Sanhedrin. The meeting doesn’t start well. Paul proclaims his innocence and his clear conscience, which doesn’t mean that Paul sees himself as sinless. Instead, Paul knows he has been cleansed through Christ.[3] He also knows that as a Jew, he was kept the law. That’s why he can have a clear conscience. But the Council doesn’t see it that way. Ananias, the high priest orders Paul to be struck in the mouth.
As a high priest, it should be noted that Ananias wasn’t well thought of, even by many of the Jewish leadership of the day. Josephus, a Jewish historian writing a few years later, spoke of Ananias habit of having priests beaten for not giving him all the tithes they’d collected. They were only required to give a portion and to use the rest to live on. The result of Ananias’ behavior, according to Josephus, is that a few of the older priests starved to death.[4] This dude was evil. He was corrupt.
Paul responds to the slap with a strange sounding Jewish curse, calling the priest a whitewashed wall. Paul suggests that the High Priest is like a dirty wall that’s been painted white to cover up the filth. Jesus says something similar in the list of woes against the scribes and Pharisees in Matthew’s gospel. “You are like whitewashed tombs, which on the outside look beautiful, but inside they are full of bones of the dead and all kinds of filth.[5] Paul’s response surprises the members of the council. Asking why he speaks in such a manner to the High Priest, Paul pleads ignorance. He didn’t know the man was the high priest, saying that if he had, he would not have spoken in such a manner. There is some debate as to whether Paul really didn’t know his identity, or if he was just implying that he High Priest wasn’t acting like one.[6]
Paul then tries another tack. The council is made up of two groups. The Sadducees did not believe in the resurrection. They saw this life as being it. But the Pharisees, of which Paul was one, did believe in the resurrection. So Paul claims he is being put on trial because of his beliefs in the resurrection. Paul has now created a classic relationship triangle, as he pulls the Pharisees on his side, over against the Sadducees. Pretty soon, another riot is about to erupt, and the Romans pull Paul from the room and take him back to the safety of their barracks.
From what Luke tells us in the Book of Acts, Paul struck out in Jerusalem. This is his last speech in the Holy City and we’re not told of any converts made. Paul must have wondered what he was doing there, but that night the Lord reassured him of his presence and of how that he has now bore witness in Jerusalem, he’s going to be sent to Rome, the center of the world in the first century. Jesus tells us that those who are faithful with a little, will be a ruler over much more.[7] Paul, who was faithful in this backwater town on the fringe of the Roman Empire, will now have an opportunity to testify before the people of the most powerful city in the ancient world.
You know, many of God’s witnesses have been abused. Paul wasn’t the first one, nor the last. Remember Stephen? He was stoned. Think about Jeremiah. He was thrown into a cistern. Many of the disciples died horrible deaths. The gospel is clear. Following Christ does not necessarily mean that we’ll have life without trouble. But it does mean that we will have a life in which we are never alone. We are to do what we know is right and be assured the Lord will be there beside us. Jesus will see to it that we are comforted and guided. We’ll be eternally protected and when this life is over, he will welcome us home.
Imagine what the world would be like if Christians were embolden to speak the truth. What if God’s people trusted God’s presence enough to help fulfil Jesus’ vision of a world of love and kindness and peace? As people of faith, we should be able to endure anything because we are never alone. If we all believed that, imagine the possibilities.
“Keep up your courage,” the Lord told Paul. Keep up your courage. Hold tight to the faith. If you’re doing God’s work, God will be with you. Amen.
[1] Proverbs 13:14, 14:27
[2] Job 1:6-12.
[3] Romans 8:1.
[4] Josephus, The Antiquities of the Jews, Book 20, chapter 9, paragraph 2.
[5] Matthew 23:27. Johannes Munck, The Anchor Bible: The Acts of the Apostles (New York: Doubleday, 1967), 222.
[6] Beverly Roberts Gaventa, Acts (Nashville: Abingdon, 2003), 313-314.
[7] Luke 16:10.
George Saunders, Pastoralia: Stories and a Novella (New York: Riverhead Books, 2000), 189 pages.
As I read the novella, Pastoralia, I was reminded of the trapped souls in Kafka’s writings. Here, two characters are a part of a primitive cave man display where they must prepare food over an open fire (when they receive a goat or a hare). They pick bugs and in the cave as they act as if they are real caveman. But behind the walls in their private quarters, where they can go when off-duty, there is a fax machine that is their link to the outside. There, they also have soft drinks and other luxuries that they are unable to enjoy while playing the part of a cave dweller. The people who run the theme park go to great lengths to save money (charging them for disposing their human waste) and making crazy arguments as why they have no other option. But the two employees are so dependent on the organization, so they keep playing the game, hoping each day to have a goat to roast.
In “Winky,” we’re taken to a “get-rich-quick” convention where those in attendance wear hats colored for how far they have come in the process of becoming wealthy. Like many such schemes, the message is partly religious, but instead of failure due to one’s lack of effort, it’s because of others are holding you back. “God doesn’t make junk,” they’re told. “If you’re losing, somebody’s doing it to you.” The scheme sets people up to focus on their needs and to challenge or remove those from their lives that hold them back. Getting ahead is the only thing that matters.
The short story, “Sea Oak” is about people trapped in lives from which they are unable to escape. It’s a world turned upside down. To make a living (in the hope of escaping to a better neighborhood), the protagonists works at “Joysticks,” where men partly strip and serve women (but they can’t completely strip) and earn titles. The best men become “pilots” although they are still stripping and serving as they parade around with their private parts slightly clad. The customers rate the men and when your rating falls to “stinker,” you’re out the door. Saunders has turned the world upside down as I couldn’t help but to think of a time when flight attendants were “sexualized” but instead of men looking at women, it’s reversed.
“Sea Oak” is the dumpy community where the protagonist lives. He’d like to escape, but there is no way out. To escape, there’s the television with reality TV-like shows such as “The Worst that Could Happen.” The aunt dies and the family struggles over how to bury her. They would be in debt for seven years to give her something nice, but the funeral home as other options such as painted cardboard boxes. But she comes back to life, only to fall apart, one body part at a time. Even the hope of resurrection is hollow in this story.
There are several additional stories in this collection. Saunders stories are funny, but sad. As they describe people trapped, I found them to be very Kafkaesque. Both writers describe hopeless situations. In Saunder’s stories, people place their hopes on bizarre schemes to escape, but no one (especially not the reader) believes they have a change. These stories, I found, are very political in a subtle way as if by telling them, those who are trapped with realize how the system is rigged against them and no longer play the game using rules that keep them from improving their lives.
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
Acts 22:17-29
July 29, 2018
Last week, in our walk through the final chapters of the Book of Acts, we left Paul on the steps of the Roman barracks, adjacent to the Court of the Gentiles and next to the temple in Jerusalem. Paul had been saved from the mob by Roman soldiers, but they assumed he must have been guilty of something since the crowd was beating him. The Romans, we learned, thought he might have been an infamous Egyptian Jewish assassin that had started a revolt, but when Paul speaks to the Roman in Greek, the commander realizes Paul is someone else. Then Paul asks for a chance to speak to the crowd. Again, as with the Roman’s Paul’s speech takes the crowd by surprise. He addresses them in their native language; they calm down and listen.
I’m not going to read all that Paul has to say this morning. I’ll skip over 16 verses, where Paul mostly recalls his background and conversion. From what we are told, the crowd remains silent and listens. But as Paul comes to the end of his speech, that changes, as we’ll see this morning. In this passage, we’ll learn the value of Paul’s citizenship and where his allegiance ultimately lies. Read Acts 22:17-29
What does it mean to be a citizen? It’s a privilege those of us who were born in America enjoy. When you are a citizen, you have rights the government can’t take away without due process. When you are a citizen, you are a part of something larger that yourself. When you are a citizen, you have something to be proud of. But there is also a burden. After all, we have to pay taxes and in a democratic republic like ours, we need to be involved in politics, at least to the point of being informed and making an effort to vote. And lastly, being a citizen means that when your country does things for which you’re not proud, you have to own it.
When traveling overseas, I’ve been curious and a bit envious of those with multiple passports. They are able to choose which one to use in order to avoid paying for a visa or entry fee when entering a new country. Furthermore, if there is some kind of international incident, they can use the more favorable passport. Most of us don’t have that luxury.
J. Maarten Troost, who carries both a Dutch and Canadian passport, tells about the burden of citizenship in his humorous book about traveling in China. If you remember, during the Bosnian War in the 1990s, we mistakenly bombed the Chinese embassy in Belgrade. Anti-American protests erupted and Troost observed American youth in China quickly sewing Canadian flags on their backpacks. Shortly thereafter, there was an incident with Japan. The Japanese government denied wrong doing in Nanking during World War 2. This time the outrage was against the Japan and Japanese students began to sew on Canadian flags.[1] As I said, citizenship comes with benefits and baggage. We can see this with Paul in today’s reading.
When Paul addresses the mob, he appeals to his Jewish heritage. He begins, if you read back earlier in the chapter, “I am a Jew.”[2] It’s in the present tense. Paul does not say, “I was a Jew, but now I’m a Christian.” Even though he is a follower of Jesus, he sees himself as continuing in the Jewish tradition.
Paul continues to reinforce his heritage. Although born in what’s today known as Turkey, Paul was sent to Jerusalem to study under Gamaliel. He had been a zealot for the law, just as those who are in the mob that tried to kill him. Paul goes on to recall how he’d once been a part of the mob that killed Stephen. But then Paul was changed when he encountered Jesus. The crowd continues to listen to him as he explains his conversion, and how instead of being a persecutor of the church, he becomes a member of the Way, a follower of Jesus.
The crowd is patient right up to the point that Paul talks about how the Lord sent him to the Gentiles. That was just too much for them to bear. For you see, those of the Jewish heritage saw themselves as better than the Gentiles. Paul’s focus on the Gentiles was seen by them as a denial of his Jewish citizenship. To their eyes, Paul admits being a traitor. They again demand his blood.
Like last week, we have another riot, although this time Paul is protected by Roman soldiers. They pull Paul back into the safety of their barracks. Here, we have another scene. The commander doesn’t understand why this guy is causing such a ruckus. He still thinks that Paul has to be guilty of something. So, as was the fashion in those olden days, he decides he’ll beat the answer out of Paul. As Paul is being strung up to be flogged, which was one of the worst punishments as if often killed or maimed the victim, he drops a bombshell. Luke tells us that Paul, facing the severity of Roman power, causally asks the soldier if it was lawful to flog a Roman citizen. It’s a rhetorical question. Paul knows the answer. There’s humor here. By keeping his cool, Paul claims his citizenship, takes on the Empire, and the flogging doesn’t happen.[3]
There are benefits of being a citizen and as such, Paul could not be flogged unless he had been found guilty of a deserving crime. So the commander has him released and they have an interesting conversation. The commander had purchased his citizenship while Paul was born a citizen, which meant that his ranking as a citizen was higher than the commander.[4]
Paul uses his citizenship as a way to avoid a potentially life-threatening torture, but his ultimate loyalty isn’t to the Jewish faith nor to Rome. First and foremost, Paul belongs to his Lord. We see this early in this reading, where Paul, having just returns from Damascus, thinks he’s the ideal candidate to bring the Jewish people into faith with Christ. But that’s over-ruled by God in a vision he had in the temple. Paul’s sent out to the Gentiles.[5] Paul’s ultimate allegiance, as we see, isn’t to himself (as he wanted to stay in Jerusalem). Nor is it to the Jewish tradition, or even to Rome. His ultimate allegiance is to God.
Paul may have thought he was a good candidate to stay in Jerusalem and convert the Jews, but his background as a Greek, a Roman citizen, and a Jew makes him an idea candidate to travel the Empire and share Jesus’ message.
Paul demonstrates how we can be both proud of our heritage (as he was of his Jewish background) and also use the privilege of citizenship (as he did to avoid torture), yet place God first in his life. The importance of it all is balance. It’s all about putting God and God’s mission first. It’s about using that which God has given us. God gave Paul a heart for the Gentiles, which didn’t please his fellow Jews because they didn’t want to share God’s flavor with others. But Paul’s purpose wasn’t to please his fellow Jews (or even Romans). It was to carry out the mission of his Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Furthermore, God saw to it that Paul was equipped for the mission he was assigned, as he was a Greek-speaking, Jewish, Roman Citizen.
What can we learn from this passage and apply to our lives? William Willimon, in his commentary on Acts, discusses here the difference between tradition and traditionalism. Paul plants his feet firmly in the Jewish tradition in which God often acts in a surprising way. Think about Noah and the Flood, Abraham and his wanderings, Moses and the Exodus, Jeremiah and the Exile… With all these individuals and events, God was doing something new. Paul is “willing to be surprised, to be led into strange areas of God’s grace. This is the tradition is worth defending… as opposed to the dry and often dead traditionalism which merely appeals to blind obedience to what we have always done.”[6] Where might God be calling us? What new thing might God be doing today?
Sometime we get caught up in the same game, defending traditionalism, and not the tradition. The Christian tradition isn’t about doing things the same way as we’ve always done it. It’s about bringing people into a relationship with a living Lord, it’s about working with God to redeem the world and fulfill God’s eternal purpose. We must be willing to separate the essentials from that which have served us well in the past. Worship style and music is something that has continually changed throughout history. We shouldn’t fight it. Instead, it should be evaluated by how it helps us connect to God and by how it furthers God’s mission in the world.
Christian education is another thing that changing. What’s important isn’t that we do something like it has been done for 200 years. By the way, Sunday School as we know it is only a little over 200 years.[7] What’s important isn’t how Christian education is done, but that it’s done! We must have a way to learn and to grow in our faith.
As it was in Paul’s day, the world at times seems to be in flux these days. Church attendance is dropping across North America. More people are claiming not to have a religious preference. It’s a frightening time, but these statistics don’t say anything about God. God is still in control. God is doing something new, we just don’t know what it is yet. But for those of us born into Christian families and in America, we have been blessed, just as Paul was blessed having been born a Jew and a Roman citizen. Such blessings provide us with abilities many others don’t have. When we understand, as Jesus said, “To those who have been given much, much is required,”[8] we should, like Paul, do what we can to further God’s work in the world and to be an example of what it means to follow Christ.
While we enjoy citizenship on earth, our ultimate allegiance belongs to God. And God is in control and for that we give thanks. Amen.
[1] J. Maarten Troost, Lost on Planet Chain (New York: Broadway Books, 2008), 117-121.
[2] Acts 22:3.
[3] William H. Willimon, Acts, (1986, Louisville KY: WJK, 2010), 170-171.
[4] Beverly Roberts Gaventa, Acts (Nashville: Abingdon, 2003), 310.
[5] Acts 22:19-21.
[6] Willimon, 169.
[7] See Anne M. Boylan, Sunday School: The Formation of an American Institution, 1790-1880 (New Haven, CT: Yale, 1988) or Robert W. Lynn & Elliott Wright, The Big Little School: 200 Years of the Sunday School (Nashville: Abingdon, 1980).
[8] Luke 12:48.
Rebecca Solnit, Wanderlust: A History of Walking (New York: Penguin Books, 2000), 326 pages, notes and some photographs. 13 hours and 58 minutes on Audible.
The title drew my attention. I’m a wanderlust and walker so this book was a delight. I don’t really know how to categorize it. The book is a kaleidoscope of many parts: anthropology, science, history, adventure, exploration, philosophy and poetry. There is a little of something for everyone, which may make the book overwhelming for some. But I found it a delight.
Solnit begins by taking us on a walk near her home in the San Francisco Bay area. Soon, she is exploring philosophers who think while walking and then she’s off discussing how we began to walk and how it helps us see the world. She discusses the idea of the garden and the British walking tradition, especially as it was experienced by poets like Wadsworth and Keats. There are pages devoted to private property and the battles, especially in the UK, over the battle of the right to walk across private property. As she expands walking, she focuses on the French Revolution and the role mass “walking” has played in protests. From France, she explores walking in the Civil Rights movement to the Tiananmen Square revolts in China in the late 1980s.
I was surprised at the beginning of chapter 10 (on Walking Clubs and Land Wars). She was at the breakfast table of Valarie and Michael Cohen’s cabin in June Lake, California. I’ve been there! I knew Michael from when he taught at Southern Utah University and one summer, when I was completing the John Muir Trail, Michael joined me for the Yosemite section. Michael wrote a biography of John Muir, which allows her to discuss Muir role in American walking. Before going west and establishing the Sierra Club (of which one of their missions was to take people walking in the mountains), Muir took a 1,000 mile walk from the Midwest to the Gulf of Mexico (he even travelled through Savannah and camped out in Bonaventure Cemetery.
In later chapters she discusses how the city began to destroy the need for walking, but then has provided a haven for walkers in places like Central Park. She also discovers the “underside” of walking such as women “walking the streets” to find clients as prostitution and how, in centuries past, women alone on the streets were assumed to be of that profession. She even discusses walking on a treadmill, which doesn’t allow you to see much of the world but does allow for needed exercise. I must confess to having listened too much of this book while in the gym.
While I listened to this book instead of reading it, I was so enamored with the quotes and insights that I picked up a hard copy for my library. When listening to the book, the reader starts out with quote after quote, which goes on for several minutes. It seemed weird to have so many quotes. At the beginning of each major section of the book, the reader goes on for some time with more quotes. This didn’t make sense until I purchased the book and realized that running along the bottom of the pages of the book are the quotes followed by the name of the author of the quote. The person reading the book would read these quotes for each section, then return and read the text. It was the only way to do this to make any sense. Otherwise, the reader would have only hit part of a quote that appeared on each page. While the quotes at the bottom of the page gave an artistic flavor to the book, I am not sure they added to the story.
If you’re a wanderlust, you might find the book enjoyable. But I am afraid that many readers may be overwhelmed in the variety of worlds that Solnit explores. That is both a strength and weakness of her book.
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
Acts 21:27-22:1
July 22, 2018
Last week we learned that Paul finally arrived in Jerusalem. There’s a warm welcome by the leaders of the church. They praise God for the work that has been done through Paul as he reached out into the Gentile world. But not everyone in Jerusalem was excited at seeing Paul and hearing about the work he’d been doing around the Roman Empire. Quickly, things go downhill as we see in this week’s text.
Today, we observe a problem that occurs when people gather and tempers flare. Often, when there is a mob, judgment and justice gets tossed aside. A crowd is easily riled up. Reinhold Niebuhr understood this flaw in human character as outlined in his classic work, Moral Man and Immoral Society. The book was first published in 1932, just a year before the rise of Nazism. It proved to be prophetic. How can someone who strives to live morally in his or her personal life get caught up in a movement that can be so corrupt and evil?[1]
The mob that beat Paul isn’t anything new. It was a mob that forced Pilate’s hand which resulted in Jesus’ crucifixion.[2] It was a mob that stoned Stephen.[3] And now, as we’ll see in the Scriptures, another mob is brewing.
As we read about how the mob attack Paul, we should ponder where we’d be in such a situation. It’s easy to think we’d be on Paul’s side, but would we? Or would we play it safe and go along with the crowd? Read Acts 21:27-22:1.
I’ve talked to you before about how my ninth year of school was a pivotal and difficult for me. It was the first year of cross-town busing and a year of transition. Instead of continuing on at Roland Grice Junior High as we’d planned, those of us who were entering the 9th Grade were packed off to Williston, a “9th Grade Center” located near downtown Wilmington. The school had formerly served as an African-American High School, and then for a few years was the inner-city Junior High. It was a tense year, as students who had formerly attended Williston, along with Sunset Park and Roland Grice Junior Highs were all tossed in together. Many of us from Roland Grice formed a gang and claimed the walkway on the second floor that ran from Williston to Gregory, which this year was a 5th and 6th Grade Center next door (originally, Gregory had served as the African-American Junior High). This walkway provided us with views of both sides of the school yard. From there, we got into all kinds of mischief.
It was late in the school year, a week or two before we were out of school for the summer. We’d already been through the riots for the year, and now things were settling down. On this particular morning, buses were dropping off kids, both 9th graders along with those in the 5th and 6th grade. People were waiting for the bell to ring before classes began. I don’t remember who came up with the idea, but dozen or so of us who had gathered that morning starting shouting “Fight, Fight, Fight” and pointing to the back side of the school. We ran to the other side of the walkway. It had the desired effect as soon the front yard of the two schools were cleared of students rushing across to the backside of the schools to see the fight. Of course, there was no fight. Seeing none, the crowd looked up and saw us laughing.
These days, I don’t recommend such behavior. But it shows a tendency (or weakness) of human nature. We tend to follow the crowd. Had I been in Jerusalem that spring afternoon in middle of the first century, would I have gone against the crowd? I’d like to think so, but I’m not so sure. How about you?
To understand this passage, it would be helpful to know a bit about the temple. To the Jews of the First Century, the temple was sacred. Inside the temple in the Inner Court was the Holy of Holies, a place where only the High Priest could go to offer sacrifices on behalf of the people. Around that was a court for the priest with the altar. Then, there was the courts for Jewish men and women. These were all sacred places—not everyone were allow inside.
Surrounding these courts was the Court of Gentiles. Gentiles were prohibited from entering into the temple proper and there were signs in several languages that warned of death to those who violated the boundaries. The Romans allowed the Jews to maintain the purity of the temple and even helped them keep the inner courts free of non-Jews.[4] Along the wall of the city by the Court of the Gentiles was a Roman garrison. There, soldiers were stationed in case there was any disturbance around the temple. This is why the soldiers were so quick to respond to the riot that occurred this day.
According to the text, in verse 29, we learn that the unrest began when word gets around that Paul had been in the city with Trophimus, a Gentile from Ephesus. Now, who would have known that this dude was a gentile? We’re told there were those in the city who were from Asia (that province where Ephesus is located) who are in Jerusalem for the festival. They assume Paul took this gentile into the temple. Remember, there are clear warning signs declaring death to any gentile that crosses the threshold. Had Paul done this, and we are not told that he had, this would have been a major breach in protocol. But, let me reiterate, we’re not told that Paul did this. Unfortunately, no one in the crowd stopped to investigate. Based on the uproar, they assumed Paul’s guilt and immediately join the mob. Nobody wanted to be seen as easing the Jewish standards of the day. They wanted to be seen as “tough on crime” and a gentile in the temple proper was a serious crime.
Note that in verse 30, when Paul is seized, the temple doors are closed. He can’t seek sanctuary there. Luke tells us how the veil in the temple rips when Jesus was crucified, indicating the opening up of the temple.[5] Now, with this verse, Luke indicates that the temple is being closed to Christians, to Jewish believers. The split between Christians and Jews continues to widen.
A mob and a misunderstanding led to Paul being beaten without mercy. We are left to assume that had the soldiers not intervened, Paul would have been killed. But the soldiers came in and they quickly broke the fight up. Then, they arrest the victim! How often does that happen? How often, even today, is the victim assumed to be guilty? Paul must have really done something bad to stir up this crowd, the commanding officer concluded. We often jump to conclusions don’t we? That unarmed man must have done something to cause the officer to shoot him… That victim within the #me too movement must have worn suggestive clothing or said something salacious to cause the man to take advantage of her… Or, he or she was guilty because of who they are with or where they were at… When a mob takes over, everyone jumps to conclusions, logic goes out the window, and irrational behavior ensues.
As we read on in our text, it is interesting that the Romans had also assumed the worst about Paul. They thought he was an Egyptian Jew who had led a revolt. Had he been, he would had been condemned and executed, but at least the Romans would have done it orderly and not by mob action. However, when Paul begins to speak, the soldiers are surprised to realize he’s actually a citizen from Tarsus. They are surprised to learn that he speaks Greek in addition to Hebrew and Aramaic. So, surrounded by soldiers, they allow Paul to address the crowds.
This passage shows us the danger of mob action and of making rash judgments about people. Of course, in the end God saw that things worked out for the best. The Romans save Paul from death and then, after having been arrested, Paul is able to appeal to Caesar. This allows him to take the gospel message all the way to Rome. But just because things worked out for the best, we can’t dismiss the behavior of the crowd. They are accountable for their irrational behavior.
As Christians, we must stand for what is right. Sometimes this means we must go against the crowd. We must defend the weak and those unable to support themselves. Throughout the Old Testament, God over and over again demands justice for the widow, orphan and alien.[6] And then Jesus comes along and tells us to love our neighbors as ourselves and to pray even for our enemies.[7] In the Old Testament, the three groups of people raised up (orphans, widows and aliens) had no one to advocate for their rights. God expected his people to stand in the gap. The same would go for Paul, who was alone and vulnerable before the crowd. With Jesus, we’re to think of others first! When the vulnerable are attacked, as followers of Jesus we are called to stand up. We are called to stand in the gap and remind the world that God is a God of justice.
Will we stand in the gap and insist that all people have dignity because they have been created in God’s image?[8] Will we stand in gap, against the mob, and remind the world that might does not make right? Just because we have the ability to do something doesn’t mean that we should do it. Will we stand in the gap and risk the crowd’s anger, knowing that we must answer to a higher authority?
While grace will cover the sins of the humble and contrite, we must still strive to do what is right in God’s eyes and not just follow the crowd. Stand in the gap! Amen.
©2018
[1] Reinhold Niebuhr, Moral Man and Immoral Society (1932, New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1960).
[2] Luke 23:18-24.
[3] Acts 7:54-60.
[4] F. F. Bruce, The Book of Acts(Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1976), 433-434 and Beverly Roberts Gaventa Acts (Nashville: Abingdon, 2003), 301-302.
[5] Luke 23:45.
[6] Deuteronomy 14:29, 24:17-21, 26:12-13, 27:19; Jeremiah 7:6, 22:3; Ezekiel 22:7; Zechariah 7:10, Malachi 3:5.
[7] Jesus quotes from Leviticus 19:18 when he says to love one another as we love ourselves. See Matthew 19:19 and 22:39, Mark 12:31, and Luke 10:27. This teaching is also taught in the early church. See Romans 13:9, Galatians 5:14 and James 2:8. In the Sermon on the Mount Jesus tells us to pray for our enemies. Matthew 5:44.
[8] Genesis 1:27.
Brendan McDonough with Stephan Talty, Granite Mountain: The Firsthand Account of a Tragic Wildfire, Its Lone Survivor, and the Firefighters Who Made the Ultimate Sacrifice (New York: Hachette Books, 2016), 178 pages plus an insert of 8 pages of prints.
Nineteen firefighters were killed in the 2013 Yarnell, Arizona fire, making it America’s most tragic wildfire in the terms of death of firefighters. Yarnell surpasses the King Mountain, Colorado fire in 1994 and the Mann Gulch, Montana fire in 1948. Everyone who lives in the American West, especially in non-urban areas, know the danger of wildfires and this fire hit a little too close to home for our family. One of the firefighters killed that June afternoon had, in the mid-1990s, been a member of a youth group at the church I served in Cedar City, Utah. He left behind a wife and two children. I read this book with Joe in mind.
This book is more about the author, Brendan McDonough, than it is about the fire or even firefighting. While he does covers what happens that afternoon, the whole story is seen through Brendan’s eyes. It is a story of redemption as Brendan goes from being a drug dealer and user to a member of an elite fire-fighting team. He is to be commended for having turned his life around and one can easily understand how he was so distraught after losing his “family” in the fire.
On the afternoon of the fire, Brendan was station as the team’s lookout. When the fire blew up, his escape route was different than that of the crew who were working below him in an area filled with bushy vegetation. For some reason, the Granite Hotspots didn’t take the escape route they’d planned. It was a fatal mistake. They were caught in a canyon filled with shrub. With the fire pushing in on them, they attempted to clear away shrubs and to crawl into their safety blankets in the hope the fire would burn pass them. They all died.
I was disappointed that I didn’t learn anything about the kid I once knew. Brendan only discusses a handful of the fellow firefighters who were a part of the Granite Hot Shot team. I would have also learned more about what investigators have discovered about the fire, but this is a personal story. The book does not cover the investigation that followed the incident. However, the story from Brendan’s eyes is well told and the book is easy to read.
With a new PBS documentary coming on our Mister Rogers, along with a movie starring Tom Hanks as Fred Rogers in the works, it’s a good time to look back on this gentle man and what he taught. For a couple of years I had a newspaper column that appeared every four weeks in the Daily Spectrum, a newspaper covering St. George and Cedar City, Utah. This column was written in April 2003,shortly after Mister Roger’s death. The photo on the left is of me and my daughter in San Francisco in 2002.
“Daddy, are you sad Mister Rogers died?” My five-year-old daughter, with a reassuring voice, played the role of a good neighbor as she expressed concern for my emotional well being.
Daddies don’t need to earn the admiration of their daughters. That aside, I discovered it was worth a few extra points to let my daughter know Mister Rogers, like me, was a Presbyterian minister and that we had both graduated from Pittsburgh Theological Seminary. In her eyes, that made Mister Rogers a personal friend of mine even though we attended the institution decades apart. We may not have been friends, but we were residents of the same neighborhood.
To many, Mister Rogers seemed old fashion. His trademark cardigan sweaters and slippers were often targets of ridicule. But if image ever bothered Mister Rogers, he didn’t let it show. He reached his audience with his simple caring ways. His show offered children, including my daughter, relief. Their worlds are often chaotic. In contrast, Mister Rogers would walk slowly onto the set, replacing his jacket with a sweater. He always hung his jacket in the closet. His entrance provided a welcome change of pace for kids use to parents coming in, throwing their jacket on the back of a chair and collapsing in the recliner. Rogers’ meticulous ways demonstrated a safe and orderly world where adults have time for children and treat them as if they are important.
In times like this, when we are bombarded with images of death and destruction, when terrorists long to destroy much of what we value, and when a virus has people afraid of traveling, our children need to be reassured that we are there for them. Even though we cannot control the future, they need to know that we have their best interest at heart.
In the carefully choreographed world of Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood, children learn there is an alternative to the madness they see around them. His messages were simple, clear and honest. Because of this, children trusted this man with his zip-up sweaters to safely explore with them, who they are and how they relate to one another. From him they learned that honesty and friendship are important and came to understand that their neighborhood is far and wide. Rogers taught that, in order to “feel the fullness of life,” we must have “a sense that we belong to our planet” and “that we belong in other people’s lives.” We all need to know “that we are loved, lovable, and capable of loving.”
When Jesus was asked, “who is my neighbor?” he surprised his audience by telling the story of the Good Samaritan. A neighbor is someone who cares. A neighbor is someone who takes our best interest to heart. In this world filled with fear and conflict, we need a few more Mister Rogers asking us, “won’t you be, won’t you please, please won’t you be my neighbor?” “Yes,” I told my daughter, “I’m sad about Mister Rogers’ death.” We’re going to miss him.
###
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
Acts 21:1-17
July 15, 2018
We continue our journey through the Book of Acts this week as we explore the third and final leg of Paul’s journey to Jerusalem. You can see the journey he takes on the map on the screens. As he has done so far on this particular excursion, Luke provides unique details (even down to unloading the cargo of the ship). When Paul last traveled to Jerusalem, his journey from Ephesus to Jerusalem took just two sentences.[1] Why does Luke go into such detail here? Is he slowing us down with details to highlight the importance of this trip? It’s something you might ponder as we read these verses. As Paul travels, he stays with believers along the way which provide us with an insight into first century hospitality and what it means to be on a Christian journey. I’m going to leave the map up while I read the text so you can have a sense of where these things are happening. Read Acts 21:1-17…
A few weeks ago I was driving back to St. Louis. I’d been in St. Louis for the General Assembly. I’d then travelled to Iowa City, where I had attended the Iowa Summer Writing Program. I was flying back home from St. Louis, and I built an extra day in my schedule to visit with some friends and see a few places along the Mississippi. This provided me the luxury of taking backroads. My plan was to cross over the Mississippi, from Iowa to Illinois, at Fort Madison. It’s a major rail town and I realized I had been through that town at least three times on Amtrak. It’s where the Santa Fe line from Chicago to Los Angeles crosses the Mississippi River. Knowing I would see plenty of trains along with barges on the Mississippi, I was drawn to the old Santa Fe depot, which is also a local museum. There, I talked to an old man passing time watching trains. He had worked for the Santa Fe, not on a train, but as a bridge tender over the Mississippi. He knew something about the railroad.
I arrived about the same time as Amtrak, as it was heading to Chicago. It came to a stop, but no one got off. I was told the Amtrak station these days was a couple of miles back, but that the train had to also stop here because the bridge was open. I couldn’t see that the bridge was open, but sure enough, a large set of barges were soon visible as they were pushed down the river. When the bridge closed, the train left.
A few minutes after that, a large container train made its way slowly by us. Then, as this was a double track line, a second container train raced around the first on the other line. It was booking. When I commented on its speed, the retired railroad guy said he thought it a land-bridge express, which hauls containers from Los Angeles to ports on the east coast, where they are reloaded onto a ship for Europe. These containers don’t go through customs and are sealed for the entire journey. Who knew!
One of my metaphors for the Christian journey that I have used before is of a train on a transcontinental journey. Every ten hours or so, the train stops and one crew gets off while another takes over. Each crew has their own particular run and responsibility. The guy at the throttle while they were crossing the Mississippi never sees the train being formed by the Pacific or its containers loaded onto a ship on the Atlantic. His or her job is to move the train safely from point A to point B. The engineer trusts that other engineers and conductors will see the train to its final journey.
When it comes to the church, our task is to faithfully move the church a little further down the line. The church, as well as us as individuals, are on a journey. We know, or we should know, that there will be bumps along the way. Journey has always been a popular theme within Christianity. From the early days, there were those who went on pilgrimages. These were journeys designed to draw people into a closer relationship with God.
While pilgrimages fell out of favor with the early Protestant movement, the Puritan John Bunyan brought it back in the terms of our whole life being a pilgrimage. Pilgrim’s Progress is his allegorical tale. His protagonist, Christian (what a convenient name), dreams of a journey from this world to the next. Christian lived in the City of Destruction, but his journey takes him to the Celestial City on Mount Zion. Bunyan reminds us that our ultimate citizenship isn’t to this world, but to God’s kingdom. In this fashion, we’re all pilgrims during our lives.
Paul, in our passage this morning, has the same sort of feelings. He’s making the journey because the Spirit compelled him to, even though others warn him of the danger. As he makes his way from the province of Asia to Jerusalem, Paul’s encounters echo many things Luke has already told us in his gospel and in the Acts of the Apostles.[2]
In Caesarea, Paul stays with Philip, the evangelists, one of the seven deacons. If you remember, as a deacon, Philip was assigned the task of seeing to it that the needs of all the members of the Way were well fed and cared for. One of the other deacons, with Philip, was Stephen.[3] It was at Stephen’s stoning that we first hear of Saul, later known to us as Paul.[4] So Philip and the former persecutor of the church, who watched with approval as one of his co-workers was killed, are now friendly.
Philip has four daughters who are prophetess, which remind us of Peter’s sermon on Pentecost when he quote Joel about sons and daughters prophesying.[5] When Paul first set out for Damascus, his mission was to bind up the Christians in Syria and lead them back to Jerusalem for trial.[6] Now Agabus, another prophet, shows Paul how this will be reversed as Paul is bound and taken away. Furthermore, the warnings Paul receives are akin to the warnings Jesus gives the disciples about going to Jerusalem.[7] For Paul, like Jesus, Jerusalem is a dangerous place.
Despite all the warnings, Paul feels compelled by God’s Spirit to go to Jerusalem, just as Jesus felt compelled to go there. It doesn’t seem as if Paul fully knows fully what’s ahead. He doesn’t die in Jerusalem, but he was prepared to die. However, Paul’s ministry takes a significant twist in Jerusalem, as he is taken from there, as a prisoner, to Rome.
I recently heard it said that when Christians are willing to die for the gospel, the gospel can’t be stopped. Paul knows that what he’s involved with is much larger than himself. Even though others want him to be safe, Paul knows his first loyalty is to Jesus Christ and to go to where Jesus wants him to go.
There are three highlights from this passage I’d like to offer. First of all, Paul enjoys the fellowship of believers wherever he goes. The first thing he does when he enters a town is to seek out Christians and he delights in their company. Secondly, they pray together. Whenever Paul is departing, they get on their knees. In the sharing of hospitality and prayer, both parties are blessed through what they give and receive. The Christian life is of both giving and receiving, of blessings and being a blessing.
The third offering for you to take is that Paul knows that imprisonment and perhaps death is ahead, but he does not fear it. Paul no longer sees himself as a free man. Paul accepts his role as a prisoner of God’s Spirit. Even though there are storm clouds ahead, Paul continues on because he feels he’s doing God’s will. It’s one thing to have trouble. Everyone has troubles. (At least I do. Don’t you?) But when we feel we are doing God’s will, we can more easily endure the pain because we know we are not alone and our purpose is larger than ourselves. It is no longer about what Paul is doing (if was about what Paul was to do). It’s about what God will do.
These three highlights from Paul’s journey (fellowship, prayer, and the focus on something larger than ourselves) correspond to three things within the Christian life. It’s my hope you will all strive to enjoy these. First of all, there is the joy that comes from fellowship with other believers. Secondly, when we pray together, we are connect with our Heavenly Father. And finally, we should realize that our efforts is just a small part of what’s God’s Spirit is doing in the world. We must be faithful and trust God’s Spirit to call on others to also be faithful.
Remember that train rushing from one coast to another. We have our own section for which we’re responsible. As the old gospel song goes, “We must keep our hand upon the throttle and our eyes upon the rail.”[8] It’s not about us, it’s about a larger mission. Let us pray:
Holy God, help us to be like Paul. When others strive to redirect us from your purposes, give us the courage to remain focused on your mission. Help us to enjoy the fellowship of believers and to be strengthened in the prayers of the faithful. This we ask in the name among all names, Jesus Christ. Amen.
©2018
[1] Acts 18:21-22, Beverly Roberts Gaventa, Acts (Nashville: Abingdon, 2003), 291.
[2] Gaventa, 292.
[3] Acts 6:1-6.
[4] Acts 7:58.
[5] Acts 2:17, Joel 2:28.
[6] Acts 9:2.
[7] Luke 9:22, 44
[8] Charles Tillman, “Life is Like a Mountain Railway.”
This article appeared in the October 22, 2007 issue of the Presbyterian Outlook. The photo is from the early 1990s and shows Brent and a younger me (I still had some hair) after a day of skiing in Ellicottville, NY.
I stayed at the home of friends the night before Brent’s funeral, in the hills on the north side of Pittsburgh, above the Ohio River. Unable to sleep, I listened to the lonely wail of trains on the tracks down below. Trains heading east slow down in this section, before heading over the trestle and into the city, their cars bumping into one another as the brakes are applied. Trains heading west pick up speed and their engines strain as they cut through the night, whistling at each crossing.
In the middle of the night in a strange bed, I recalled sitting in Brent’s living room late one evening. He had invited three of us over for dinner. Afterwards, we sat around the fireplace and talked late into the evening, catching up on each other’s lives. Hours later, the conversation paused. Then a train came by, quieter than the others. “That’s the Capitol Limited,” Brent noted, “Chicago bound. You can tell by the sound, you don’t have the clanging of the cars.” Every time a train came through that night, I thought of Brent.
Brent and I met in my last year of seminary. His church was looking for an associate pastor and I’d been recommended to fill the gap while the search was conducted. We quickly bonded. Working with Brent, I witnessed firsthand his gracefulness in dealing with people. He exhibited hospitality. He cared for people, showing compassion to the elderly and the poor and the young. He loved his congregation and the community to which he’d been called. His preaching was solid, biblical, theological, and filled with grace. He strove for excellence and loved life. Whether it was sailing, fishing, attending the symphony, or catching a Pirates or Steelers game, Brent was fun to be around.
Right before Christmas that year, Brent and I took communion to shut-ins. It was a grace-filled afternoon. I would read the Nativity story from Luke’s gospel, stopping with the words “Mary pondered all these things in her heart.” At one home, with a woman in her nineties, Brent repeated the last verse then talked about the woman’s own children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren, noting how she must ponder many memories in her heart. Then he talked about how we, like Mary, ponder our memories of Jesus, which remind us of the good and gracious nature of God.
We visited a number of folks that afternoon. Our last visit was a woman suffering from dementia. Although she didn’t know who we were, when Brent took her hand and began to recite the 23rd Psalm from the King James Version, she lit up. Her voice joined ours. Then we said together the Apostles’ Creed and the Lord’s Prayer. Later, as we were driving back to the church, Brent told me how those whose memories fail them frequently recall familiar passages from their youth. Throughout the afternoon I had witnessed Brent freely giving of himself, setting an example of incarnational ministry.
On September 30, 1990, Brent preached my ordination sermon. While I served a church in Western New York, we saw each other frequently. He’d come up to ski and later brought a sailboat to Lake Chautauqua and we’d meet there in the summer. He was still my mentor, but like a good mentor had also become a friend. We often discussed what was going on in my ministry. He’d listen carefully and offer gentle advice. A few years later, Brent officiated at my marriage, advising my wife and me to create a family that would be the salt of the earth, spicing up the church and offering a Christ-like presence to the community. In time, mostly because of distance, we saw each other less frequently. But we kept up, occasionally talking on the phone. When I was in Utah, he came out to ski and when I went back Pittsburgh, we got together. Later on, we met a couple of times at Continuing Education events and had planned to meet again at the National Pastor’s Sabbath last summer. Our relationship had become collegial. He still offered me advice, but also sought advice from me. A few weeks before his death, he and I discussed a new opportunity he had for a call to a church on the West Coast.
It was a Friday evening early in November when a friend from Pennsylvania called. She was upset and asked if I’d talked to Brent lately. “A few weeks ago,” I said, not wanting to say too much for I didn’t know who knew about his potential move. “Brent killed himself,” she blurted out after a pause. I was speechless. Over the next few days more details came light. A Pittsburgh television station had shown a teaser for an upcoming investigative report that was to air later in the week. Brent was shown coming out of a local adult bookstore. According to the teasers, the reporter had “uncovered illicit, possibly illegal, activity by a local minister, activities which, at the very least, violated the rules of his denomination.” Later on, details about a man that he’d had an affair with came to light. It appears this man set Brent up to be exposed by an investigative reporter. Before the report was to be broadcast, Brent disappeared. Undoubtedly because he did not want to face public humiliation, he took his life in an obscure motel room. The station never aired the report.
In notes left behind, Brent confessed of not being worthy of a funeral, a suggestion ignored as the church’s sanctuary and fellowship hall overflowed with those of us mourning. A long line of robed clergy, led by a bagpiper, processed into the service. Tears flowed freely as his friend, the Rev. Jean Henderson, read a letter she’d written to Brent. Presbytery executive Jim Mead also spoke of how he appreciated Brent’s ministry and told of the grief all in the presbytery were experiencing. Portions of Brent’s letters to the church and his colleagues in presbytery were read. He confessed how he’d struggled with his sexuality and how he’d been lonely. He encouraged the congregation to step up for the fall stewardship campaign and encouraged his colleagues in ministry to lead holy lives. After the service, I wanted to be alone for a bit and walked some of the streets I’d walked with Brent years earlier. They now seemed so empty and lonely. I realized I didn’t know the depths of Brent’s loneliness.
I’ve spent many hours over the past months wondering about Brent and the issues surrounding his death. We’re all a part of a broken humanity; we all have issues with which we struggle. Why did he not reach out to someone? Did his desire for excellence keep him from displaying his struggles and brokenness? Did Brent forget that God, the one whose love he often proclaimed to others, also loved him? Did he succumb to the Evil One’s great lie, that because of his actions God had abandoned him?
I’ve also wondered if there is any meaning to Brent’s death. From the side of Brent I knew, he would be disappointed if his death became a rallying cry for a political agenda within the church. Brent loved the church and he loved his Savior and he was content to serve both and tried to stay out of the political battles. The good news was too important to be overshadowed by political agendas. Grace is important; yet when things were crashing in on him, Brent seemed unable to find the grace he needed.
There were scores of us hurt in that Brent, who had helped so many, wasn’t able to talk to one of us about his struggles. Not knowing about his secret life, I wonder if I missed important clues that might have opened him up to the healing and wholeness that he spoke of for others. Ultimately, I had to admit there was a part of him that I didn’t know. But that doesn’t diminish the pain. He’s no longer available to be that trusted friend with gentle counsel. He’s no longer there to share a joke, to celebrate an accomplishment, or to grieve a loss. Yet I am grateful for having known Brent and for all that he taught me and for the way he modeled grace and unselfish service for the kingdom.
The world is a sadder place in his absence. Without him, I must depend even more on God’s grace, which I suspect would have also been Brent’s counsel. I wish he could have received such advice.
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
Acts 20:17-38
July 8, 2018
We’re back to Acts this week, the book in the Bible that informs us of the amazing feats of God. God took a measly group of disciples and built a world-wide church. Three weeks ago, in my last sermon from Acts, we were in Troas. There, Paul preached so long that poor Eutychus nodded off. The boy then fell out the window and had to be revived. It’s a colorful story with a deeper meaning that has to do with the church bringing people back into the fellowship, back into the light.
Paul’s on his way to Jerusalem. Since the last passage Paul’s sailed across the western side of modern day Turkey. Someone recently asked me to describe the places I am talking about better, so you now have a map that shows the places we’re discussing. Paul started this journey in Troas (which is highlighted in red). He then sails past Ephesus, where he had preach for three years. The boat stops at the port town of Miletus (also highlighted in red). Paul spends a considerable amount of time here, enough time to invite the Ephesian elders to meet him. It would have taken several days to send the invitation to Ephesus and then to have the elders travel down to meet Paul.
Some have raised questions about why Paul and his boat sailed passed Ephesus. Is it that after the silversmiths riot that he no longer felt safe there? Or maybe he thought his presence would be too disturbing to all the believers and wants to just meet with the leaders who have the responsibility for the flock? Or maybe it was a faster route.[1] We don’t know the real reason. But what we’re given at the end of chapter 20 is a farewell address from Paul to the Ephesians.
Luke, the author of Acts, is fond of sermons and speeches even though this one is unique. It’s the only sermon we have of Paul addressing a Christian audience. Generally Paul is the evangelists, speaking to non-believers. It’s also the last recorded sermon that Paul preaches as a free man, the next recorded speech he is a prisoner.[2] In this particular address, Paul prepares the elders for life without him. Some scholars have noted the similarity of Paul’s message to Jesus’ farewell discourse with his disciples as found in the Gospel of John.[3] Let’s listen and learn from God’s word to us. Read Acts 20:17-38.
Today, we’re also remembering our national Independence Day, which occurred this past Wednesday. Independence Day is a time to look back at what was done by the Colonists who fought for freedom, as well as a time to look forward to where we as a nation might be heading. Perhaps the best known “Farewell Discourse” of those involved with the Revolution was given by George Washington’s.” It was presented shortly before the 1798 election. Washington wasn’t going to run again for the Presidency, but before he returned to his beloved Mount Vernon and resumed the life of a private citizen, he had some advice to depart.
Washington was concerned and raised alarm on the dangers he saw in the future. He highlighted the dangers of sectionalism, as parts of the nation focus on themselves. 62 years, our nation would endure a Civil War. He was concerned over partisan politics, seeing political parties as distractions to the overall good of the Republic. Today such hopes seem to have fallen on death ears. And he was concerned with the United States become involved in the wars of other nations.[4] In some ways, his warnings seem prophetic. If you look at these three areas, it appears that we, as a nation, have struck out. Thankfully, God has watched over us.
George Washington was addressing our country at a time of transition. Many people may have been asking, “What are we going to do without George?” The same is true for the early church during our reading. They, too, were probably asking, “What are we going to do without Paul?” It’s a common question. We worry about changes in leadership. What’s going to happen when so-and-so is no longer with us? Are we going to be lost without him? Without her, who’s going to take us forward? Transitions are difficult and troubling.
Paul knows he has come to the end of his ministry, or at least this phase of his ministry. Up to this point, Paul has been free to decide, with the Spirit’s guidance, where to go and what to do. But God’s Spirit has impressed upon him that the future will be gloomy. He’s going to be arrested. He’s going to be in chains. But Paul isn’t regretful for what has passed or what is to come ahead. Paul has grounded his hope in the Lord Jesus Christ. He just wants to finish the work to which he was called, telling people of the good news of Jesus Christ. And even though he is in chains, Paul will continue to do this until his death. He will be arrested in Jerusalem, but he will take the gospel into the halls of power in Rome.
Paul begins this farewell address by recalling how he lived and worked among those in Ephesus. He had worked hard. He was faithful to his message even though he encountered opposition. There was those who didn’t like his message, who saw him as a challenge and sought to undermine his ministry. For Paul (and this applies to us, too), what’s important isn’t success but faithfulness. Am I doing what God has called me to do? Is my primarily allegiance not to personal satisfaction or the approval of others, but to God? To we live lives that, as the Doxology goes, “Praise God from whom all things flow.” When we focus first on God, we are able to endure the challenges and even persecution that might arise. When our focus is on God, we are aligned with a movement much larger than ourselves or any human effort.
In verse 22, Paul shifts to talking about what’s ahead, acknowledging that he has a bad feeling that things aren’t going to go well. Imprisonment and persecutions are to come. Yet, because Paul’s life is centered on God in Jesus Christ, he’s not worried. In verse 25, Paul informs the elders that he won’t be seeing them again, but looking back he feels good about his work. Despite opposition, he has continued to be faithful to the proclamation of the gospel.
Paul continues in verse 28, as he shifts to the topic of what they need to do without Paul to guide them. They are responsible for their own actions and for watching over the Christians in Ephesus. The elect are precious people, brought with the blood of Jesus Christ. Therefore, these elders need to be diligent. But it won’t be easy; it’s going to be hard. There will be those who’ll try their best to disturb the peace and unity of the church. There will be those who’ll spread a false gospel, who say to draw people away from the true message of hope. Some of this, as Paul notes in verse 30, will come from those within the church. So the elders must be careful and focused on the larger picture of building God’s kingdom. Paul then turns back to his own example and on the work he did with those in Ephesus, concluding with a quote he attributes to the Lord Jesus, “It is more blessed to give than to receive.”[5] Paul is driving home a leadership style Jesus made popular. A leader is a servant, the one who does the work of the Kingdom.
There was a wonderful column in the New York Times this week about Mister Rogers. It’s by David Brooks. I hope you know that Fred Rogers was one of us. He was a Presbyterian minister who sought to teach children through television. Brooks was commenting on Rogers’ teachings, as a new documentary is being released about Rogers’ life. In his column, he reminded his readers how Rogers’ lifted up the vulnerable as those who are closest to God, which ties into Jesus’ teaching about the last being first and those who want to rule over others must first become a servant.[6] Paul’s saying the same thing.
Once Paul’s farewell address ends, he humbly kneels and the elders gathered around in prayer. They grieved. Everyone understands they’ll not see other again, but life must go on. They then walk Paul down to his ship and we can image them watching as it sails over the horizon.
What are we to do when our mentor, when our teacher, when our parents, or when someone we’ve depended on, departs? This is the time we need to step up to the plate, Paul suggests. We can’t sit back and feel sorry for ourselves and what we’ve lost or what might have been. We can’t make it about us. We must continue forward, with our hope placed firmly in Jesus Christ.
If we focus on God and God’s work, and are faithful, we can have the clean conscience. Notice that Paul didn’t worry about those he was leaving behind. He was concerned for them, but as he wrote in verse 26, I’ve done my best, I’ve given my all,[7] I didn’t hold back. It may sound harsh when Paul says, “Your blood is not on my hands, but what he essentially saying is that you’re now on your own. I can no longer be responsible, you must take responsibility, but remember, God is with you.
For those of us who are leaders in the church, our responsibility is to prepare others to continue the work after we’re done. That’s the only way the church has continued throughout 20 Centuries. Paul saw himself as a servant of God and realized that the future is not in his hands, but in God’s. Let’s face it, if the future is in our hands, things are scary. But when the future is in God’s hands, we can relax. Paul gave his best and turned it over to God. We should do the same. Anything worthwhile, such as Paul’s work at furthering God’s kingdom or even George Washington’s parting words as our first president, acknowledge that we only play a small role in human history. For us to be successful in an eternal way, the focus can’t be on ourselves, but on something larger—on God!
So what do we do when Paul leaves? What do we do when our teacher, mentor, or parent dies? Yes, we cherish them. We learn from their example. And we continue on, doing what they taught and trusting in God. Amen.
©2018
[1]F. F. Bruce, The Book of the Acts (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1986) 410.
[2] Beverly Roberts Gaventa, Acts (Nashville: Abingdon, 2003), 287.
[3] William H. Willimon, Acts (1988, Louisville, KY, John Knox Press, 2010), 156-157.
[4] For a copy of the address see: http://avalon.law.yale.edu/18th_century/washing.asp
[5] This quote from Jesus does not appear in any of the gospels, so Paul must have had another source. A similar quote is found in the Apocryphal. See Sirach 4:31
[6] David Brooks, “Fred Rogers and the Loveliness of the Little Good,” New York Times (July 5, 2018). See https://www.nytimes.com/2018/07/05/opinion/mister-fred-rogers-wont-you-be-my-neighbor.html
[7] Words from The Message translation. Acts 20:25-27.
Eric Goodman, In the Days of Awe (New York: Washington Square Press, 1991), 288 pages.
It appears that Jewish Joe Singer has hit rock bottom. A talented pitcher is, at the end of one season, divorced and banned from baseball. He’s like Shoeless Joe, the famous ballplayer who was banned from baseball in the early years of the 20th Century. In this novel, a kid came up to Joe in a restaurant, saying “Say it ain’t so, Joe,” just as it supposedly happened to Shoeless Joe (as shown in the movie, 8 Men Out). There are several references to Shoeless Joe in the novel.
Joe lives in Hermosa Beach, California, where he continues to care for his body by running and exercising daily. He still believes one truth taught to him by his con-artist father: “Take care of your body and it will take care of you.” His primary social contacts are meals at the same restaurant, a couple of married women with whom he’s having affairs, and an occasional beach volleyball game. But Joe isn’t yet at the bottom. One of the married women is shot by her husband and dies in Joe’s arms. And now the killer has Joe in his sights. All this sets up a series of events that causes his life to spiral downward.
But at the bottom, in his first summer without baseball, Joe is ridden with Jewish guilt and begins to atone for his sins with acts of kindness. He volunteers at a runaway center and becomes a spokesperson for California ballot initiative that would require a wait period before buying guns, and he falls in love with Fannie. There are many twists and turns in this novel. Joe is shot by the other husband of the former married lover. He is reunited to his flim-flam father who seems to be turning his life around as he marries a rich widow. The future looks better. But will he and Fannie also marry? Will he be reinstated to baseball and, if so, can he recover from his wounds and play again? Goodman’s writings keeps the reader engaged.
Much of this book takes places in the Jewish “Days of Awe,” the seven days between Rosh Hashanah (the Jewish New Year) and Yom Kippur (the Day of Atonement). On Rosh Hashanah, names of those who have gravely sinned are recorded and a week later, on Yom Kippur, the book is sealed. During this period, Joe seeks forgiveness from those he has wrong and strives to atone for his sin.
There are a lot of things I related to in this book. One of Joe’s good memories of his father was his gift of a baseball glove with Don Drysdale signature. His father said he would have purchased one with Sandy Koufax’s signature since he was “one of the tribe (i.e., Jewish), but that Koufax was left handed. As a kid, I would pitch sidearm, like Drysdale. Also, one of the characters in the book, Des, is a minister. He wears a collar so that Joe thinks he’s Catholic, but is corrected and told he’s a “high church Episcopalian.”
The Days of Awe reminds me of the structure of Michael Malone’s Handling Sin, which take place during the Christian season of Lent. In that book, the protagonist also has issues with his father that need to be worked out. In both stories, things fall apart and then turn around for the beleaguered protagonists.
Eric Goodman, the author of this book, teaches at Miami University in Oxford, Ohio and was my instructor this summer at the Iowa Summer Writing Conference.
I enjoyed this book and feels it has much to offer about what it means to do the right thing and how we all have baggage from our childhood with which we must deal. This is not just true for Joe, for several of the other characters such as Des and Fannie are also dealing with issues from their past. However, it is a book for a mature audience. With all of Joe’s sexual partners, there is a fair amount of description of sex within these pages. I wouldn’t’ recommend this book for your fifth grader who’s interested in baseball.
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
Mark 5:1-20
July 1, 2018
Having been away for nine days and knowing I was going to be in a time crunch, I’m taking a break from our tour through the Book of Acts this week. Instead, I’m borrowing from a sermon I preached years ago, as I we explore the passage that follows last week’s scripture reading of Jesus calming the seas. In that text, Jesus and the disciples crossed the sea to a distant land. Jesus slept while a storm blew up. Thinking they were about to be swallowed up by the sea, the disciples woke Jesus. On his command the seas calmed. It was amazing. The disciples looked at each other and asked, “Who’s this guy?”
We know the answer to their question. But this was early in Jesus’ ministry and the disciples have not fully grasped the divinity of Jesus. After all, he appears normal. He tells good stories, does good deeds, teaches with authority, and there is an air of humility about him. The disciples enjoy his company, but they haven’t yet seen him as the Messiah, as the Son of God.[1]
Jesus and the disciples, in today’s reading, are on the other side of the sea, in Gentile territory. Here we have the second of four back-to-back miracles that Jesus performs in Mark: the stilling of a storm, the casting out of demons, the healing of a woman, and restoring life to a girl who’d died. Mark uses this section to emphasize Jesus’ power, the power of God, the power to save. When our lives are a mess, we’re to turn to Jesus. Read Mark 5:1-20.
As you know, I’m from North Carolina. It’s the land of smoked ham and pork barbecue, where pig pickings are a major social function and eating “high on the hog” isn’t just an empty phrase. With that in mind, I was shocked last week while in Iowa. I learned they produce about three times the number of pigs as my home state.[2] I couldn’t believe it. While in Iowa, there was only one restaurant I visited that didn’t highlight loin on the menu. That restaurant was vegetarian.
I’m sure if Jesus had visited Iowa and caused a herd of hogs to run off one of the high cliffs along the Mississippi, he’d also been asked to leave. 2,000 hogs. That’s 4,000 hams and another 4000 shoulders and enough spare ribs to feed all of Skidaway Island. All that good meat washed out to sea. Makes you wonder, doesn’t it, what Jesus had against pigs?
Of course, the answer is pretty obvious. He’s Jewish and the law prohibited consuming pork. Thankfully, as Christians, we have Peter’s vision at Joppa, where he learned that what God has made clean should not be considered profane.[3] Thanks to that vision, our menu expanded greatly as we added pork and shellfish and other goodies. Of course, as good as it can be, pork isn’t what our text is about.
Let’s get back into the text. Prior to crossing the sea, Jesus had spent a lot of time teaching the crowds. We can image how exhausting that was, which may have been the reason he decides to head across the lake. He is going to where he’s not yet known. As this is gentile territory, he can rest and take it easy. But that doesn’t happen. Like us, sometimes our best intentions are foiled. There was the rough weather as they crossed over the water, and then when they got to the other side, they were immediately confronted by a wild man. So much for a bit of peace and quiet.
Jesus and the disciples may have thought they were getting away, but there’s an ongoing cosmic battle between good and evil, between God and the minions of Satan. While the people might not have heard of Jesus, the evil powers have. Jesus is immediately confronted. There’s a man who couldn’t even be contained with chains. He lived among the tombs, probably because the city, out of concern for the safety of its residents, had banished him. At least the dead buried in the tombs, as far as we know, didn’t complain about a lunatic residing there.
The dialogue that occurs in our text seems, at the beginning, appears to be between Jesus and the man. However, it soon becomes apparent that it’s not the man but the evil spirits residing within him who’s doing the talking. Jesus is able to immediately identify the problem. We witness a jockeying of position of power. During Biblical times, names were thought to have special powers and the right to name implied domination. If you go back to Genesis, you’ll see that God allowed Adam the right to name plants and animals, implying humanity’s power over the earth.[4] With such an understanding of the power a name holds, consider how the demon addressed Jesus as the “Son of the Most High God.” It’s as if the demon hoped that by exposing Jesus’ divine identity, it could exercise some control over him. This jockeying for position continues on in verse 9, when Jesus asks for the demon’s name. The response is, “My name is Legion, for we are many.” We now learn something new. The name Legion is the same as a large unit within the Roman military. By using, “Legion,” the demon may have attempted to conceal his name while implying the man is filled with evil.[5]
Of course, as God, the power of Jesus is greater than all other powers. Jesus easily orders the demons to leave the man. Granting their request, Jesus sends them into that herd of swine that run off the cliff and into the sea. We witness a theological truth here. Jesus’ power is divine. Jesus has power over evil. And Jesus has the power to reclaim the man and set him back on the right track.
This great truth of Jesus’ power reminds us that when we have troubles we can call upon Jesus, who came as God in the flesh. This is the type of power we need to make our way through a world filled with evil. When we are overwhelmed, we should let our troubles rest with Jesus. Notice that the demonic man was freed of his afflictions and allowed to leave the tombs of the dead and return to the community of the living. Our God is a redeeming God and can cure the most troubled soul. That’s good news! That’s a God we can trust and in whom we should place our faith.
But there is a challenge to God’s goodness and power. Evil hates God and God’s creation. Evil longs to bring about death and destruction. Evil was going to destroy this man as it did the pigs. Evil destroys by consuming all that is good in life. We have plenty of examples of evil in the last century: Hitler, Stalin, Pol Pot, Ida Admen, Bin Laden, and scores of serial killers. But understand this. While scripture encourages us to take seriously the evil lurking in the world, it also shows us that it is not something we have to fear. When we are on God’s side, although we may appear weak, we have a power greater than any evil spirit. We’re not to fear those who can only kill the body, Jesus reminds us, for there is nothing more that they can do to us.[6] They can never take away the salvation we find in Christ.
The poor man in this passage is a victim. He should be pitied, not condemned. Being in need doesn’t necessarily imply guilt. Too often we want to place blame on the victims, but Jesus saw something the townsfolk who’d banished this man didn’t see. Jesus saw him as a man in need, as a man whose body has been filled with vile hate that comes from hell. And he was able to rid the man of such evil and cleanse him so that he could be restored to the community.
This week I read an article on the epidemic of loneliness we face. As we see in this passage, God through Jesus Christ brings us together. The forces of evil isolates us, as happened to the man in our story.[7]
If we believe in the power of Jesus, it should lead us to be careful about how we judge others. There are those in this world who have difficult burdens. We can banish them from our presence, send them to the tombs or some other desolate place, where we don’t have to deal with them. Or, we can be Christ-like and show some grace while relying on God to cleanse and renew them.
Jesus did not institute the church to be a place where believers gather Sunday after Sunday to be comforted in our own biases. The church is not a place where Scripture is to be contorted to soothe our soul. Such misuse of God’s word is eternally dangerous. Instead, the church was created to play a role in the reconciliation of the world.[8] We’re here to do our part to help restore those who have lost their way and to bring them back, through the power of Jesus Christ, into a relationship with the divine. We’re here to offer hope, the hope that can only come from Jesus Christ, who is our Savior. There is power in his name. Amen.
©2018
[1] It’s not until the 8th chapter that Peter identifies Jesus as the Messiah. See Mark 8:27-30.
[2] Iowa produces $4.2 billion in pork sales compared to North Carolina’s $1.46 billion. See https://www.agweb.com/article/bringing-home-the-bacon-top-10-pork-producing-states-naa-ben-potter/
[3] Acts 10:9-16.
[4] Genesis 2:19.
[5] William Lane, The Gospel According to Mark (Grand Rapids: Eerdman, 1974), 182-184.
[6] Matthew 10:28, Luke 12:4.
[7] Michael Lee Stallard, “America’s Loneliness Epidemic: How Should We Respond.” See: https://www.crosswalk.com/faith/spiritual-life/america-s-loneliness-epidemic-how-should-we-respond.html
[8] Presbyterian Church USA, “The Confession of 1967,Book of Confessions ” 9.06.
by Jeff Garrison
The 223rd General Assembly that met in St. Louis this June provided an opportunity for me to reflect back on ministry and the denomination. My first General Assembly, the 200th, was held in St. Louis in 1988. I had just completed my second year of seminary and was preparing for an internship year as a student pastor in Virginia City, Nevada. This was a time when commissioners were given reams of paper and the Assembly provided canvas bags in which you could tote supersized three ring binders needed to organize everything. Today, everything is done electronically and the commissioners no longer have to lug around reams of paper. When the Assembly was in session in 1988, seminary students acted as runners, taking slip of paper containing motions to the front. Today, even that is done electronically as motions are sent digitally to the podium and appear on large screens almost instantly as the person makes the motion.
It seemed to me that there was a lot more political maneuvering at the 1988 Assembly. Crossing the street from the hotel to the Convention Center, advocates for various positions would force papers on you. There were those wanting the church to take a stronger position against abortion and others wanting us to take a more liberal position. Abortion and homosexuality were the biggest issues of the day, (with abortion being highlighted as Mother Theresa spoke at a breakfast sponsored by one of the advocacy groups). Out in front of the hall, protesting the denomination he’d left in the 1930s, was Carl McIntire. Carl left to organize the Orthodox Presbyterian Church and then split with them to form the Bible Presbyterian Church. He was a relentless sight back then, protesting at every General Assembly and meetings of the National Council of Churches. And the maneuvering wasn’t limited to outside the halls, as a battle raged inside as to who would be the next stated clerk.
1988 was still the era when many of those who stood for moderator were white male pastors of large churches. Today, such voices are almost absent. It seems that instead of electing a well-known moderator who would then nominate a vice moderator, today people run together with another candidate as co-moderators. This Assembly, two of the three sets of candidates consisted of two women, a white woman and the other a woman of color. Elder Vilmair Cintron-Olivieri and the Rev. Cindy Kohmann were elected as co-moderators. The Rev. Kohmann was a classmate at Austin Theological Seminary of our Parish Associate, the Rev. Deanie Strength.
In 1988, the denomination had 3 million members, a large number of missionaries around the world, and skilled scholars producing Sunday School, evangelism and stewardship materials. Today, our membership is a little over 1.4 million and we have many fewer missionaries and scholars working on denominational resources. However, the percentage loss of membership over the past two years dropped significantly as fewer churches are exiting the denomination. Someone said (I haven’t been able to find the validity of the statistic) that since 2012, eight of our ten largest churches have left the denomination. I wish our denomination would take this decline seriously and spend time in prayer and discussion about how we can reach others with the gospel message that Christ is Lord.
The three most contentious issues at the General Assembly this year were a reorganization of the denomination’s structure as presented by “The Way Forward Committee,” a call for the divestment of fossil fuel investments, and a significant increase of per capita (the amount presbyteries must pay, based on membership, for the operation of the Office of the General Assembly). However, the battles seemed minor compared to previous Assemblies that I have attended. There is a sense that as a denomination, we are tired of fighting.
The “Way Forward” adopted reshapes the denomination structure and the relationship between the Office of the General Assembly and the Presbyterian Mission Agency. It also strengthens the Stated Clerk’s role of speaking pastorally for the denomination between Assemblies.
The call for divestment, while debated heavily, failed. Those fighting against divestment made the case that staying as a stock holder of such industries allows the church a voice at the table. Divestment was also discouraged by the Mission Responsibility Through Investment (MRTI) committee. Such a move would have been more symbolic as the denomination holds a minor stake compared to the volume of available shares. Moreover, the two largest investments funds within the denomination (the Presbyterian Foundation and the Board of Pensions) are both independent. While they are advised by the MRTI, the money they manage is held in trust for the shareholders (congregations and those invested in pensions).
During the winter, the Office of the General Assembly voted to encourage the 223rd General Assembly to significantly raise per capita by 40%. The per capita for 2018 is $7.73 per member. Eventually the Assembly voted to approve a more modest increase of 10%, setting the per capita for 2019 and 2020 at $8.50 per member.
Worship and Bible studies were two of the highlights during the week in St. Louis. The Assembly always includes creative worship leadership with a blend of new and old music. The Rev. Najla Kassab, president of the World Communion of Reformed Churches, called the denomination to continue its work toward transformation, reconciliation and peace. The offering from this service was given to the Deirminas Presbyterian Dispensary, which is operated by a church on the Lebanon/Syria border to provide medical supplies refugees fleeing Syria.
As this General Assembly was held in St. Louis, where police shootings of a young African-American in nearby Ferguson caused a national movement, there was much emphasis on what the church could do to bring about racial reconciliation. One thing enacted at the Assembly was a collection to be used for bail money for some being held on minor crimes (under $5,000) and who were unable to pay bail. Many of those held in jail with minor crimes lose their job or housing when they are unable to provide the required cash bail that often only a few hundred dollars. On Tuesday, after committee meetings, a large group of commissioners marched down to the courthouse to present this offering, an event that received much publicity in the local press.
As an observer to the Assembly, in addition to seeing the commissioners in action, I was blessed to be able to catch up with many friends and former colleagues and make new friends. On Thursday night, after the Assembly broke, I had to chance to meet and have dinner with the Rev. Nancy Pearson, the pastor of the church in Cedar City, Utah, where I used to be the pastor. It was fun to catch up about the exiting things happening in Utah.
While there are many things troubling our denomination, there’s still plenty of life. The leadership of the Board of Pensions and the Presbyterian Foundation is strong and hopeful. The Board of Pensions is looking to create ways to help small churches with limited resources to fund a called pastor. The Foundation continues to provide money for mission work around the world. We will continue to seek modern ways to be the Presbyterian Church (USA), but we will also place our hope—not to these organizations or the General Assembly—but to Jesus Christ, the Lord of the Church.
The title of this post might raise a few eyebrows. Let me assure you, such a summer has nothing to do with me as my Great-Grandparents were in diapers during the summer of 1884. That summer was a pivotal year for baseball. I thought about this book last week while at the General Assembly in St. Louis, where my hotel looked over the Cardinals ball park. In this book, you’ll learn about the team before they were named for the red bird. It’s a good way to work yourself up for SIPC’s summer evening trip to historic Grayson Stadium where we’ll watch the Savannah Bananas take on the Macon Bacons. (We’ve have a block of tickets reserved for July 31-call the office for details).
Edward Achorn, The Summer of Beer and Whiskey: How Brewers, Barkeeps, Rowdies, Immigrants and a Wild Pennant Fight Made Baseball America’s Great Game (New York: PublicAffairs, 2014), 259 pages of text and another 59 pages with statistics, notes and index. A few photos and drawings scattered throughout the book.
This was a delightful read! Baseball in 1883 wasn’t quite the game we know today. Although pitchers were no longer pitching strictly underhand, as in the early days of the game, they were required to release the ball below the shoulder. Pitchers usually stayed on the mound (which wasn’t yet a mound) the entire nine innings, Will White, who played for the Cincinnati Reds during the ’83 season, pitched in 401 major league games during his career and finished all but seven of them. (249) A batter had to take seven balls to be walked and they used the same ball throughout the game. By the end, it was often soft and harder to hit hard. Outside of the catcher, few wore gloves. Rules were often made up at the day of the game, such as times when the number of fans crowded into the outfield, the teams agreeing to count a hit into the fans as a ground-rule double. At this time, there was only one umpire, which made it easier for players to cheat. Even then players were known by nicknames such as Jumping Jack Jones (a pitcher who jumped with his release), Chicken Wolf (the only meat he’d eat was chicken of which he had 4 servings a day), Long John Reilly, and Old Hoss Radbourn. Achorn brings these characters to life as he tells the story of an exciting season.
In the early 1880s, baseball appear to be fading away. In the 1870s, a series of gambling scandals had rocked the game. The National League (the main league of the day) reacted by cracking down on gambling, but also beer sales at ballparks. With the hopes of attracting a more affluent crowd, they raised ticket prices to fifty cents (a lot for a working man). No games were played on Sunday. Then, in 1883, a new league was formed (American Association, not to be confused with the American League), which set ticket prices at twenty-five cents, allowed games on Sunday, and sold beer at the ball parks. Achorn makes the case that this league (known as the Beer and Whiskey League) helped save baseball. The tight pennant race of 1883, between Philadelphia Athletics and the St. Louis Browns, caught the public’s attention. At the end of the season, fans were gathering at empty ballparks to watch the scores being posted on the scoreboard as the results were telegraphed in. Achorn tells the story of the race in a way that brings it to life, capturing the excitement of the fans along with the personality of the players and coaches. Philadelphia won the pennant by one game, but they were floundering at the end of the season with worn-out pitchers. They were so beaten that they declined to play a series against the Boston Red Stockings, the winner of the National League pennant, which would have been the first “World Series.” They were welcomed home with a parade that rivaled the welcome given to veterans returning from the Civil War.
One of the key personalities in the story was the owner of the St. Louis Browns, Chris Von der Ahe. He was a German immigrant who owned a grocery store, then a beer garden. He risked it all on establishing a team, and made a fortune but later lost it. He is portrayed as impulsive, overbearing, but extremely generous. Interestingly, one of the players he recruited was Charlie Comiskey, who later founded the Chicago White Sox and who was remembered on their ball field (Comiskey Park) until 2003 when they changed the name to a corporate sponsor. Von der Ahe died in 1913. At his funeral, the “Reverend Frederick H. Craft wove baseball imagery into his homily:
“’First base is enlightenment; second base is repentance; third base is faith, and the home plate is the heavenly goal!’ He declared. ‘Don’t fail to touch second base, for it leads you onward toward third. All of us finally reach home plate, though some may be called out when they slide Home.'” (259)
Weaving into the larger story is the account of race relations at this stage of the game. There are two other African American ball players who played in the majors long before Jackie Robinson was born. Fleet Walker played for Toledo, a team that joined the American Association in 1884, and even before then William Edward White played for the National League’s Providence Grays. However, segregationist ideals were to win out and it wouldn’t be until 1947 when Jackie Robinson was called up to the Brooklyn Dodgers that the racial barrier was broken.
The American Association lasted only a decade. In 1892, the league’s top four teams joined the National League. These include the St. Louis Cardinals (formerly the Browns), the Cincinnati Reds, the Pittsburgh Pirates (formerly the Alleghenys) and the Brooklyn Trolley Dodgers (who joined the league in 1884 and are now the Los Angeles Dodgers). Achorn tells the story of how the Pittsburgh Pirates earned their name (given to them by sportswriters) after the “Alleghenys” tried to “steal” two ball players who had committed to play for the Philadelphia Athletics. (245). The Athletics eventually folded, but when a new team was organized in the city (which by then already had the Phillies), they adopted the name Athletics (which left Philadelphia for Kansas City and now are in Oakland). Another American Association team that must have had a similar reincarnation is the Baltimore Orioles.
I enjoyed this book. My only suggestion is that I would have liked to have seen the year put more into context of what was happening outside of baseball. Achorn does this a little, such as referring to a joke about a player who, the year before upon President Garfield’s assassination, was asked about the event. The ballplayer responded by asking what position Garfield played. He also mentions the shooting of Jesse James, in connection to the governor of Missouri attending a ball game. The governor had made it a priority to wipe out the James Gang and had recruited members of the gang to shoot Jesse. When Robert Ford was convicted of the murder of Jessie James, the governor pardoned him two hours after the trial and then sent him $10,000 in reward money.
If you love history and baseball, I recommend this book.
Michelle Layer Rahal, Straining Forward: Minh Phuong Towner’s Story (Maitland, FL: Xulon Press, 2018), 355 pages, 10 pages of photos.
I was introduced to Minh in 2011. I was preparing a sabbatical after leading First Presbyterian Church of Hastings (Michigan) through a building and relocation program. As I was going to be traveling overland from Asia to Europe, we attempted to find preachers from parts of the world in which I would be travelling. Through a connection I had at Pittsburgh Theological Seminary, I was introduced by phone to Minh. Although I have never met her in person, we talked several times by phone and became friends on Facebook. Of the international preachers the congregation heard that summer, Minh made an impression. Hers is a haunting story. She connected with several Vietnam veterans and touched everyone with what she had endured as a boat refugee who fled the country as a teenager after the fall of South Vietnam in 1975. This is her story, told through her friend and author, Michelle Layer Rahal.
This is a brutal and honest book which has come out at a time when refugees are again in the news. It is scary to be torn from family and to be alone and is especially dangerous for a young woman. Being a refugee is to be vulnerable. Minh’s story illustrates the dangers.
Minh’s world started coming apart long before she became a refugee. As a young child of a family that were well-off enough to employ servants, Minh was first sexually abused by the family gardener as a child. She attempted suicide. It would not be her first attempt and the thought of suicide would continue to run through her mind. Then, when she was ten, her father and two younger brothers were killed by Vietcong during the Tet Offensive. Minh’s family was thrown into chaos. She was sent to live with her grandfather, who was verbally abusive. Her mother and aunt kept trying to set her up with American soldiers. She was sexually abused again by other family members.
As the war was ending, her family tried to escape but was unable to get out of the country. The family split up with the idea that it would be safer. It was dangerous to attempt to escape Vietnam during this time and she and her brother were captured, imprisoned, and tortured by the North Vietnamese conquerors. She was selected to be the “mistress” of the prison’s captain who later helped her and her brother Thanh escape.
On their third try, she and her brother were able to make it out and were picked up by a Taiwanese fishing boat. They were taken to Taiwan. Although they had a chance to move to America, Minh had studied French at a Catholic School in Vietnam so decided they should take up an offer to move to France. She had an uncle who lived in France, but the living conditions were horrible. She eventually was able to relocate to Australia, where she became a nurse, married an American living there, and gave birth to two children. But it wasn’t an easy journey. She was raped both in Paris and in Australia. She struggled with English and then had to pass her exams. She was an exceptional worker, which allowed her to care for her family. But she suffered from Post-Traumatic Stress Disease (PTSD), which created many problems for her life.
Two threads that run through the book are her relationship with God and her struggle with depress, thoughts of suicide and abuse by others which exacerbated her PTSD. As a young child, she had grown up Catholic in Vietnam. It provided a spiritual foundation so that she would pray when things were bad. But from her experience, she saw God as angry and vengeful and wondered what she’d done to deserve such treatment. It took a lot of work for her to learn to handle her emotions and the way her past colored her world.
Minh and her first husband divorced. When he moved back to the United States, taking their youngest daughter, Minh decided to relocate, too. Living in Virginia, she remarried, became involved in Vienna Presbyterian Church in Virginia, and went to seminary. She was ordained in the Presbyterian Church this past year.
I would recommend this book. The ordeal Minh endured should remind us of how hard it can be for refugees and those without the protection of a country or a strong parent. Minh’s understanding of the role her past trauma played in her life and her coming to understand God as a gracious and loving Father should provide hope to those troubled in the world.
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
Acts 20:7-14
June 17, 2018
Today’s topic is sleeping in church. Some might think this is an appropriate topic for Father’s Day. I’ll let you be the judge of that one.
I assure you, I gave up sleeping in church when I moved to the pulpit. I’m not like my favorite preacher, the Rev. Will B. Dunn, who lived in the late Doug Marlette’s comic strip, Kudzu. One Sunday while preaching, he finds himself sleepy and finally nods off, dropping his head down on the pulpit. When he suddenly awakes, he thinks to himself, “It’s a terrible thing to fall asleep in the middle of one’s own sermon.” Then he looks out upon a snoozing congregation and thinks “What’s worse is when no one else notices.[1] I’ll try to stay awake this morning. I hope you do the same.
Last week we explored Paul’s final event in Ephesus, the riot of the silversmiths. Prior to that, we were given a glimpse into what lies ahead for Paul in Acts of the Apostles. Well spend the next couple of months in these passage as we follow Paul to Rome.
Paul makes a quick trip (about three months) across the Aegean Sea to Macedonia and Greece. Paul’s trip back to Europe is quickly covered in the opening verses of chapter 20. We’re given no detail and that may be because Luke, the author of Acts, was not with Paul at this time. Throughout the accounts in Ephesus and Paul’s travels in Greece, Luke uses terms like “he” and “they,” as if he’s recounting what he heard. Then, in chapter 20, verse 7, Luke returns to saying, “we.” This is generally thought to indicate that Luke has rejoined Paul. No longer is he reporting on what he’s heard, he now reports on what he experience.[2]
On the trip to Jerusalem, Paul’s first stop is Troas, a city that stands near the ruins of Troy. Today, this would be in northwestern Turkey, north of Ephesus. Paul has been here before. It’s a quick stop, but Paul makes the most of it as he worships with city’s Christian community.
We’ll learn about Paul’s time in Troas today. This is an important text. There are a lot of speeches recorded in Acts, but not here. Instead, this is one of the few places where we have insight into a first century worship practices. We will learn the importance of community worship, the breaking of the bread, preaching, and a concern for those who are on the margin. Read Acts 20: 7-12. 
I have good news for you. According to a recent study, scientists have confirmed those who attend church and other religious services regularly sleep better than those who don’t. I know some of you probably think you already knew this. Or maybe you’ve experienced it, especially when it comes to sleeping in church. But that’s not what this report is about. This is a serious study, conducted by Professor Christopher Ellison, at the University of Texas in San Antonio. It was published in the Journal of the National Sleep Foundation. In my younger years, one of the many answers I’d give when asked what I wanted to be when I grew up was to be a mattress tester. Wonder if the National Sleep Foundation hires mattress testers.
Kathy Spooner, the director of counseling and psychotherapy for the Association of Christian Counselors, affirmed the findings. “Just as a child will sleep peaceably in the arms of a good parent, that is—in essence—the kind of peace we can go to bed with,” she said. There you have it. The good news comes from trusting a loving God as your Father in heaven and such trust can help you sleep soundly.[3]
Now back to our text for today. This passage is often seen as kind of a humorous interlude into a long passage that lists the places Paul visited at the end of his third missionary journey. And there is some humor here. Eutychus falling asleep and falling out of a window into the shrubs could make a great comic strip. But the humor stops after he falls not one floor onto a soft landing of shrubs, but down three floors.[4] What began as a humorous event is now a tragedy. Paul stops preaching. He rushes down, bends over Eutychus and gives him a hug. Eutychus takes a breath. He is alive. Did Eutychus just have the breath knocked out of him and Paul’s hug help him catch it. If so, he lives up to the meaning of his name, “Lucky” or “Well-fated”?[5] Or, is this a resurrection passage similar to Peter raising Tabitha, or of Jesus and Elijah, both of whom raised from the dead the sons of widows?[6] The rejoicing of those in Troas indicate the later.
This passage is more than a humorous story of someone falling in sleep in church. As I suggested earlier, it provides an insight into worship in the first century. Look at verse 7. They meet on the first day of the week, not the Sabbath. Maybe they are still going to the synagogue on the Sabbath (our Saturday), but their day of worship is the day of resurrection, the first day of the week, which is Sunday.[7]
Meeting at night also shows us how the early church accommodated those who were on the margins of society. Slaves and laborers were expected to work when it’s light. It’s thought that the church in Troas may have had many members who would not have been able to make an 11 AM or 10 AM or 9 AM service.[8] Instead of meeting when it is convenient for the few, they meet when it was convenient for those who would normally not be able to be a part of the church. We should learn from this. The church isn’t to do what is easy, but to do what it can to bring more people into relationship with Jesus Christ. It’s not about our wants, it’s about God’s work!
The church has to be concerned with those on the margin. It has been pointed out by others that Eutychus was on the margin. He was certainly at the edge of the gathering as he hung out in the window. After he “falls away,” everyone is concerned and they bring him back into the safety at middle of the fellowship.[9]
Of course, everyone within “the Way”, the name of the church at this time, would have wanted to hear Paul. Being that they were meeting at night, in an age without electricity, they had to make due to torches and oil lamps. Much has been made about how, with so many lamps burning, the air would have been stuffy which would have made it easy to fall asleep, but that doesn’t fit with the story. Eutychus is sleeping by the window. It’s one of the few places where fresh air is available.[10] Instead, he was tired and Paul talk went long beyond his bedtime.
This story displays a contrast between light and darkness. The community meets under the light of lamps. Eutychus falls into the dark, but when Paul reaches out to him, he brings him back into the light.[11] And, Paul continues to preach throughout the darkness until the light of dawn arrives. There is a movement toward light within the story, just as we are to be drawn to the light, the source of our hope.
Then, after talking all night, Paul brings it to a close because he and his companions have a boat to catch.[12] This would be this community’s last chance to see with Paul. Both Paul and the Christians in Troas make the most of the time they have together.
Another thing we see here is the importance of breaking of the bread, or what we call communion, to this community of believers. They’ve gathered for this purpose, even though it appears that they didn’t actually participate in the Lord’s feast until well after midnight, when they bring Eutychus back into the room and give him something to eat. At this time, I’m sure this meal that reminds us of Jesus’ death and resurrection was even more meaningful as they had experienced new life through Eutychus’s fall and restoration.
What does this passage mean to us? First, I promise that I, unlike Paul, have no plans in preaching an “all-nighter.” I am not even interested in preaching to midnight. Many of you are relieved. Right?
I don’t want to be like Chaplain Staneglass in the Beetle Bailey comic strip. In one strip, the chaplain confronts America’s favorite soldier saying, “Beetle, I saw you asleep during my sermon.” The eternal private responds, “I’m sorry, sir, but it was a long sermon.”
“I didn’t think it was long at all,” the chaplain said.
“Guys that deal with eternity don’t think anything is long,” Beetle thinks to himself.[13]
But this is not a passage to warn preachers to keep it short. Instead, it’s a passage to show us that the church is to be a place where those who are on the margins and fall away are to be brought back into the fellowship, welcomed at the table, as we rejoice in the knowledge of restored life. As Jesus says, the Good Shepherd seeks out the lost, and there is rejoicing of the angels whenever a sinner is restored to life.[14] As a family of believers, we need to be willing to welcome those on the outside and to invite them into our fellowship. And as such a family, the gathered church should be the place where life and new life happens. We need to restore this vision—the church as a place of wholeness and acceptance.
The church needs to be a place of welcome and love for those who have fallen away. We need to be a place, like the church in Troas, where we are willing to experience a little inconvenience in order to be available for those whose lives don’t run on our schedule. We need to be a place of light that shines into a dark world and beckons others to come and experience the love of God in Jesus Christ. We need to be a place where people are encouraged to ask questions and are nurtured in their faith. We need to be a place where people are restored to life.
Hopefully you’ve understood that this passage isn’t about sleeping in church. That was just a teaser. This passage is about us being the church, a place of welcome, fellowship and life. This passage encourages us to catch God’s vision of us being something larger than ourselves. What are you going to do to make this vision a reality? Amen.
©2018
[1] Doug Marlette, “Kudzu.” This is from my memory. I don’t remember the date the strip was published.
[2] F. F. Bruce, The Book of Acts (Grand Rapids: Eerdman, 1986), 407, 409 n27.
[3] https://www.premier.org.uk/News/World/Going-to-church-leads-to-a-better-night-s-sleep-study-finds?utm_source=Premier%20Christian%20Media&utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=9573140_Daily%20News%2015th%20June%202018&utm_content=2&dm_i=16DQ,5P6OK,ND4HOH,M6PGX,1
[4] William H. Willimon, Acts: Interpretation, a Bible Commentary for Teaching and Preaching (1988, Louisville, KY: WJKP, 2010), 154.
[5] The New Interpretation Study Bible in the NRSV (Abingdon, 2003) note on this passage lists his name as “Lucky” This is confirmed in the Abingdon’s Strong’s Exhaustive Concordance of the Bible (1894, Abingdon, 1984), Greek Dictionary of the New Testament, 34. According to Strong’s the word derives from tugchano. There is no notion on the meaning of the name is found in Walter Bauer’s A Greek-English Lexicon of the New Testament and Early Christian Writings (1957, Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1979), 331.
[6] Acts 9:36-41, Luke 7:11-17 and 1 Kings 17:17-24.
[7] Beverly Roberts Gaventa, Acts (Nashville: Abingdom, 2003), 279.
[8] Bruce, 408.
[9] See Anna Carter Florence, “A Prodigal Preaching Story: Paul, Eutychus, and Bored-to-Death Youth,” Theology Today 64.2 (2007): 233-243.
[10] Bruce, 408. Gaventa, 279.
[11] Gaventa, 280.
[12] Verse 13 indicates that many of Paul’s group took the boat that morning, but Paul hiked over the land to Assos, where he met the boat.
[13] Mort Walker, “Beetle Bailey”, August 3, 1987, as quoted in http://www.bpib.com/comicsproj/religion.html
[14] Luke 15:3-7, 10.
Thomas S. Rainer, Autopsy of a Deceased Church: 12 Ways to Keep Yours Alive (Nashville: B&H Publishing, 2014), 102 pages.
Carey Nieuwhof, Lasting Impact: 7 Powerful Conversations that Will Help Your Church Grow (Rethink Group, 2015) 169 pages.
Both of these authors understand that churches today are struggling. Rainer is a former pastor and later served as the president of LifeWay Christian Resources. Nieuwhof is founding pastor of Connexus Church in Barrie, Ontario. Both are active bloggers seeking answers to the struggles churches face.
In Autopsy of a Deceased Church, Rainer and team interviewed former members and leaders in churches that have closed in order to understand what happened so that they can offer strategies for churches in trouble. Rainer believes that 90% of the churches in America are showing symptoms of sickness (that’s right, he only believes 10% are actually healthy). Of those with symptoms, he divides these into three groups. 40% of the churches are showing symptoms of illness, 40% are very sick, and 10% are dying. He lists ten symptoms of sickness: 1. Slow Erosion (of vision and ministry), 2. The Past is the Hero, 3. The Church Refuses to Look like the Community, 4. The Budget Moved Inward, 5. The Great Commission Becomes the Great Omission, 6. The Preference-Driven Church, 7. Pastoral Tenure Decreases, 8. The Church Rarely Prays Together, 9. The Church has No Clear Purpose, and 10. The Church Obsessed Over the Facilities. For each of these symptoms, Rainer provides a few examples, questions for reflection, and prayers to offer. This is a very easy book to read (I read it in one sitting) but it doesn’t go very deep. I also found it a little too pessimistic, but I think Rainer intends to fire a show across the bow of churches in order to get them to wake up to our changing world.
In Lasting Impact Nieuwhof focuses on seven conversation areas: 1. Why Are We Not Growing Faster? 2. How Do We Respond As People Attend Church Less Often? 3. Are Our Leaders Healthy…. Really? 4. What Keeps High-Capacity Leaders from Engaging our Mission? 5. Why are Young Adults Walking Away from Church? 6. What Cultural Trends Are We Missing? 7. What Are We Actually Willing to Change? In each of these chapters, Nieuwhof provides numerous examples as well as suggestions for turning a challenge into an opportunity. Like Rainer, he believes that the culture in which the church operates is no longer friendly toward churches. As a Canadian, he is living in a country in which the church’s relevance to daily life may be more like Europe than the United States (but we’re catching up on this trend, too). Nieuwhof also strongly believes the church’s best days are in the future. We’re a part of God’s mission and Jesus is still Lord. Each chapter has a series of discussion questions and practical suggestions for improving a church’s ability to reach out in a changing world.
Both of these authors understand that the world is changing which is creating a challenge for the church. The question is how can the church change in order to continue to fulfill God’s mission in the world.
Osprey and chick in their nest
heading out
I looked at Weather Bug or maybe it was Weather Underground Friday morning before setting off on a solo paddle to Wassaw Island. According to what I saw, there was a 30 percent chance of rain, which would diminish after 10 AM. There were a few storms coming inland from the sea, but nothing looked to ominous. The wind was to be out of the north at 4 mph and by 2 pm it would clock around to come out of the northeast at 7. Perfect conditions, as I wouldn’t have any headwinds paddling out and the wind would be behind my back when it was time to come home.
I put my kayak in the water at 9 AM, knowing I was not going to get much pull from the falling tide, but in time to make it to Wassaw before the tide turned at 10:30 AM. The tides was the only thing that appears to have lived up to its schedule.
Is that a funnel cloud or not?
When I launched, it was beautiful: calm and sunny. Before I got out of Delegal Creek (passing two sets of Ospreys and their nests), it was raining. It wasn’t hard but enough to keep me cool. I later figured out the 30% chance of rain meant it was raining about 30% of the time. But I didn’t mind. The cool drops of water were a relief. Because of the low tide, I had to paddle further out into Ossabaw Sound than normal and about half way to Wassaw I noticed what appeared to be a funnel cloud dropping from the black clouds ahead. It was moving south, away from me and extended down for a long period before disappearing. It sure looked like the beginnings of a waterspout. When I got to Wassaw, the first thing I did was pull out my marine radio which was stowed in my pack in my back compartment and listen to the weather. Sure enough, conditions were favorable for waterspouts. Furthermore, I learned there were going to be storms most of the day.
On Wassaw
I walked along the beach, watching bottle-nosed dolphins swim just a few feet off-shore. Ever since Hurricane Matthew, in which a lot of the pine trees were killed with salt water, the north end of the island has seemed to be under an assault. There were dead trees along the south side of the island. Pine Island, to the west, was even worse looking, as if it has lost a significant amount of land. .
Storm to the west, looking back across Pine Island
Chilling in a hammock
After walking, I hung my hammock, read a bit and caught up in my journal, and ate lunch. A storm was coming in from the north and I could hear the steady beat of thunder to the east. A few drops of rain fell. I napped and waited. It appeared that Skidaway Island was getting hammered (when I got home there was over an inch in the rain gauge). I walked around some more and when the thunder began to fade, launched and paddled back west. This time, the water was a little chopper and the wind still hadn’t clocked around to where it was coming out of the northeast, giving me an additional push. Several times it rained but never really heavy. I saw several rays jump up out of the water, creating a huge splash as they did a belly buster dive. As I came back into Delegal Creek, the ospreys in the two nest on the navigation markers greeted me with their squawking and flying away. I was back at the marina at 3 pm.
South end of Pine Island
South end of Wassaw
With the storms, I probably shouldn’t have gone but then I with all the rain on Skidaway there would have been no way I could have moved the grass or trimmed the azaleas, the other tasks I needed to do. It’s always fun to paddle in different kinds of weather.
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
Acts 19:23-41
June 10, 2018
The Apostle Paul spent between two and three years in Ephesus. Luke, the author of the Acts of the Apostles, provides us with several pictures of what happened during this time. One scholar suggests his style here is like that of someone doing a travelogue slide show with each slide illustrating a different event.[1] Last week, we saw three of these “word pictures.” There was the encounter with disciples who hadn’t heard of the Holy Spirit. Next was an account of hostility within the synagogue. Finally, we had the story of magicians using Jesus’ name and ending up in over their heads. This last event led to many of the magicians in Ephesus burning their books of magic and becoming believers. In other words, they gave up their livelihoods for the truth of the gospel. That event sets the stage for Paul’s final encounter in Ephesus. Paul’s preaching is cutting into their bottom line of some, as we will see today.
Jesus had a lot to say about money; nonetheless, sermons on the topic are not popular. Jesus was concerned that we not get too attached to material things. Such wealth won’t last beyond this world, which is why we are encouraged to store up treasures in heaven.[2] Most sermons you’ve heard about money centers on our need to give. Giving is a godly act. We emulate God by giving, for God has already given us everything we need. But our passage today isn’t about our need to give but about how we earn our wealth. This may even be a tougher message for us to hear. What kind of limits on earning is placed on Christians? We’ll have a chance to ponder this difficult question today.
This passage comes at a turning point in the Book of Acts. Paul is preparing to leave Ephesus. I will skip over a couple of verses which indicated that Paul going to make a quick trip to Greece, then head back to Jerusalem. Then he plans to go to Rome. The last 1/3 of the book is summarized here. Paul does makes it to Rome, but not in the manner he’d planned. He travelled as a prisoner and was thought to have been executed in Rome around the year 65.[3]
Read Acts 19:23-41.
Ephesus was a major city in the Roman World. In a way, it’s like Savannah. Ephesus was a seaport. Much of the traffic destined for central Asia passed through its wharfs. The city was located at the mouth of a river which, even in ancient days, created a problem with silting of the harbor. Today, the ruins of the city are some seven miles inland from the ocean as land has built up by the silt. In the first century, Ephesus was a bustling waterfront city. There was an amazing theater that sat 25,000 people. But the real attraction was the temple of Artemis. The city took pride in being Artemis’ “temple warden.” It was believed that the many breasted statue of the goddess had fallen from the sky. The city had worshipped the goddess for over a 1000 years. 400 years before Paul, they built a magnificent temple with 127 columns. This structure that housed the goddess was considered one of the seven wonders of the ancient world.[4]
People flocked to see Artemis. Although the equivalent to the Roman goddess, Diana, she more than just a beautiful huntress. Artemis was the mother goddess of this part of the world. She was seen as a mother to both humans and gods. She was also the goddess of bankers, so we can understand how this passage mixes business and religion.[5] Every spring, there was a huge festival around the equinox that drew crowds of people to celebrate.[6] Although we don’t know for sure, it may have been during this celebration that our situation in Ephesus occurred.
Let’s pause for a moment and think about the kind of trinkets we have as souvenirs of our travels? Maybe a mug with the name of the city? Or a replica of something like the Eiffel Tower or Mount Rushmore or those three monkeys that don’t hear, speak or see evil? Or maybe you pick up a book, as we often do, or better yet a Christmas ornament. Or maybe you’re the type that goes for a tee-shirt? I wonder if anyone was selling tee-shirts in the first-century that read, “Grandma visited Ephesus and I only got this lousy tee-shirt?” Probably not, but my point is that folks in the first century, just like today, who visited wonders of the world wanted to take something home with them. In their case, it’s a little handmade idol.
Paul, in his preaching, is monotheistic. Those who believe are no longer interested in idols sold around the temple. This cuts into their bottom line. Remember, last week we learned of the magicians discarding their books of magic. In other words, because of the truth, they are willing to find another means of employment. But these silversmiths are not willing to give up? Up until this point, most of the opposition to the Christian message has been from Jews. The Greco-Roman culture has tended to be more tolerant, but that ceases once Paul’s message threatens local civil religion.[7]
Let’s now bring this message into our lives. How would we act if our livelihood ran counter to the gospel? How would we feel if someone came to you and said, “Your idol workshop is unbecoming of a Christian?” Of course, none of us are silversmiths creating pagan idols. But we’re not off the hook. What if you’re a baker and the message someone wants on a cake goes against what you believe? That’s been in the news lately. But since none of us are bakers… What if you discover you’re investing in a business that’s making money off of slave labor in Southeast Asia? That’s not so far-fetched in our global economy.
In our story today, Demetrius, who seems to be the union steward for the silversmith guild, speaks up for his industry. The text makes it clear where his concern lies. He and his fellow artisans are losing money. There may have to be a lay-off, a cut back. His first priority is their livelihood. But then, almost as if it is an afterthought, he reminds people that what Paul and his friends are saying isn’t just cutting into their pockets, they are also dissing the goddess that has placed Ephesus on the map.
His first argument appeals to his union base, his fellow silversmiths, but his second argument appeals to the collective pride of the people of Ephesus. In a classic example of demagoguery, Demetrius knows how to motivate people. Raise up the flag! Point to the other as the enemy. Play the patriotism card. We’ve seen this throughout history.
One of the great missed opportunities of the past, which I remember learning in one of my first college classes, occurred at the beginning of what we now know as World War 1. As Europe headed toward war, socialist leaders around Europe met. They agreed to call a collective strike of all railroad workers if war was declared. This had the potential of someone calling a war and no one showing up because without the railroads, they couldn’t mobilize armies. But as July melted into August of 1914, nationalistic pride took over. No strike occurred and four years later, millions had died and after the war you had the rise of National Socialists, and we know where that got us.[8]
“Artemis is what made this city great,” Demetrius cries. “We have to protect her.” It’s a rallying cry that’s followed by a riot. Some of Paul’s companions are mistreated. Some Jews who, with their monotheistic convictions, are also singled out by the pagans. Paul wants to go in. Perhaps he thinks he can talk some sense into the crowd, but cooler heads prevailed. Finally, the town keeper is able to address the crowd.
The town keeper reminds them of something I wish all Christians could understand. If Artemis is truly a god, she doesn’t need help. That’s even truer of our God! His message also shows that Paul and company haven’t been badmouthing the local gods. So he saw no reason for the people to be upset. We should be so wise! We should focus on the good news, and lay off any badmouthing of he religious practices (or lack thereof) in others. If we complain about a Muslin or Hindi or someone who’s just indifferent to religion, we lose the ability to have a dialogue. We have to be able to befriend others in order to share with them. Take the high road. Be noble, don’t bad mouth others, and focus on the good news. We can see this type of strategy with the town keeper who restores peace and sends everyone home.
Now getting back to the primary message of this passage. What we do matters to God. Our lives are not easily separated into a religious section, a business section, a social section, and so forth as we might separate food on a cafeteria plate. Jesus demands to be Lord of all our lives, not just a section of it. This means the end doesn’t justify the means. How we make money is important. How we accomplish things is important. How we act at work (or on the golf course) is just as important as how we act in church. In this light, this passage gives us all something to ponder and to pray over. How do we reflect the face of Jesus when we are out in the streets?
There is another tread to this passage that I’d like to follow. The silversmiths were interested in maintaining the status quo. But the Book of Acts is about God’s Spirit blowing in the world and causing all kinds of changes. Resisting such change might put us into the silversmith’s camp. This can happen even in church. When we hold on tightly to the past, to that which we know and are comfortable with, we have a hard time following the Spirit’s leading. We’re to follow Christ, and you know the path he chose. We must be not be too content with the status quo. What’s important isn’t what makes us comfortable, but what makes us faithful to God. God’s mission is to reach out into a hurting world and to embrace those who are open to the good news. And we’re to be the hands and feet of that mission.
Over the past two weeks, we’ve seen two different reactions to the gospel message. The magicians were willing to give up their books of magic. The silversmiths weren’t willing to give up their business. I said this passage is about money, but not about giving. I may have been wrong for we’re left with the question, “What are we willing to give up for Jesus?” Ponder that, this week. Amen.
©2018
[1] F. F. Bruce, Paul: Apostle of the Heart Set Free (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1977), 289.
[2] Matthew 6:19-20.
[3] Bruce, Paul: Apostle of the Heart Set Free, 441.
[4] Bruce, Paul: Apostle of the Heart Set Free, 287.
[5] William H. Willimon, Acts: Interpretation, A Bible Commentary for Teaching and Preaching (1988, Lousiville, WJK, 2010, 152 and Beverly Roberts Gaventa, Acts (Nashville, TN: Abingdon Press, 2003), 271.
[6] F. F. Bruce, The Book of Acts, (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1986), 397-398
[7] Gaventa, 276.
[8] I’m not sure all the sources, but see Jack J. Roth, “Conclusion” in World War I: A Turning Point in Modern History, Jack J. Roth, editor (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1967), 116-121.
For the last few years I have been a part of a writer’s group, the Peacock Guild, that meets in the childhood home of Flannery O’Conner. Every year we hold a public reading on a Sunday afternoon. It’s the last of a series of lectures. Last year, I read section of memoir I’ve been working on. This year, I decided to read poetry. The first of these poems I wrote last fall. The second poem I wrote about a decade ago. I’ve added photos to help illustrate.
Resurrection, or a New Children’s Crusade
Hastings Cemetery
There is a section in the Hastings Michigan Cemetery where children who died during or before birth are buried. This area is at the back corner of the cemetery, on a ledge overlooking the Thornapple River. A few years ago during a spring flood, some of the graves were lost to river. This poem comes from thinking about those children and my own mortality.
Bury me with the children who died prematurely
and are planted in simple graves, at the back of the cemetery,
far from the gaze of the mourner, ‘cept broken-hearted parents.
Bury me under a huge sycamore,
whose broad leaves shade the ground in summer
and white bark appears ghostly on a foggy morn.
Bury me where the stream makes a sharp bend
its swift waters carving into the bank.
There, I can hear the river’s call as it rushes past.
The Thornapple River below the cemetery
Bury me close to the ledge where, in a few years or maybe a century,
a spring flood will free me and those kids
and I’ll lead them on a grand adventure.
In our box boats we’ll shoot through the gates of the Middleville and Irving dams,
forgetting the dangers for it no longer matters to the dead.
We’ll laugh as we catch an eddy below and float in circles.
At Alaska, the village-not the state, we’ll shoot the rapids
and when we meet the Grand we’ll chat with those fishing for salmon
and wave to the pedestrians on the bridges at Grand Rapids.
I hope it is night, with waves breaking over the piercing lighthouse,
when we leave the river at Holland, for the lake. We’ll float slowly,
watching the lights on shore fade from sight as we navigate by the north star.
Time will slow as we slip from one lake to another
and over those falls at Niagara that terrify all but the dead,
before making our way into Canada and down that great waterway.
And years later, if our wooden boats hold up, we’ll slip out the St. Lawrence
and into the cold waters of the North Atlantic ,along with ice bergs,
riding the Gulf Stream as it heads north and then east and back south.
We’ll bed down with wintering puffins
and watch whales play as they ply the sea, while we pass
Iceland and the Faroes, Scotland and Ireland, and on beyond the Azores.
Bury me with the children, in the back of the cemetery,
And in time the river will call and we’ll float
to where peaceful waters gather.
Spring along the Thornapple
Ode to Lovers Lost and Unknown
I never danced upstairs at the Lumina,
the spacious ballroom, exposed to offshore evening breezes
cooling guests jitterbugging and dancing the Charleston,
under the bright lights that guided ship captains
following the coastline ‘til ‘42,
when darkness prevailed and German U-boats prowled.
And I never laid in the sand on the beach
watching silent movies projected on a screen
beyond the breakers that provided a constant rhythm,
for the antics of Mr. Fields and company
‘til a nor’easter flatted the screen,
by then obsolete with the new talking shows.
And I never rode the electric trolley
the ten miles from the beach to Wilmington,
late at night under live oaks haunted with Spanish moss,
passing the new bungalows on Wrightsville Avenue,
the summer air scented with honeysuckle
and the sky filled with lightning bugs and Perseids meteors
But I did get to shoot some pool, a quarter a game,
in the shell of a building once called the Lumina
and I showered underneath the rotting timbers
rinsing my salty body in brackish water,
unaware of the splendor long past,
soon to be wrecked and cleared for condos.
Time passed me by
and I’ll never have a chance to dance with you at the Lumina,
to watch the light reflect in your eyes
and the wind blow your dress and toss your hair.
But if I had the chance, I’d pull you tight,
my arm around your waist, my chin tucked on your shoulder,
savoring every salty moment.
Old Postcards of the Lumina
Historical note: The Lumina was built by in 1905 by the Consolidated Railways, Light and Power Company. It was at the end of their trolley line that ran to Wrightsville Beach. The trolley stopped running in the late 1930s. The building was torn down in the 1970s. There is a good article on the Lumina in Our State magazine.
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
Acts 19:1-20
June 3, 2018
Back in 2015, I began preaching through the Book of Acts. That year we looked at the story of the church up to the beginning of Paul’s ministry. Then, a year later, we explored Paul’s first two missionary journeys. We saw the gospel make headways into Europe. This summer, I’m going to try to complete our walk through Acts as we look at Paul’s third missionary journey and his trip, as a prisoner, to Rome. This part of Acts is often overlooked. Most lectionaries, a list of suggested text for preaching, completely skips over these chapters. But there are some interesting stories: book burnings, shipwrecks, riots, and sleeping in church.
We pick up our story as Paul has just made a short trip to Jerusalem. The purpose of this trip was probably to deliver funds he’d collected to help those in Jerusalem suffering from a drought. Paul then heads back across central Asia Minor. He comes to Ephesus, a large city which is now stands in ruins in western part of present-day Turkey. There, Paul settles down for a few years. Let’s see what happens next. Read Acts 19:1-20.
Is that fourth plane Star Trek’s “Enterprise”?
Many of you have probably heard the news. Televangelist and prosperity gospel preacher Jesse Duplontis had a recent chat with God. I don’t generally make it a habit of talking about other ministries in the pulpit, but this one just iced the cake. In the interest of full transparency, Jesse recalled his conversation with the Almighty.
‘Jesse,” God asked, “you wanna come up where I’m at?'”
“What do you mean?'” the televangelist asked.
God then supposedly said, “I want you to believe in me for a Falcon 7-X.”
“OK, God, but “how am I going to pay for it?'” And then he recalled something God had told him in the past: “Jesse, I didn’t ask you to pay for it, I asked you to believe for it.”
In the hope of the 54 million dollar jet being fully funded, Jesse shared this conversation with his followers. He told them how with this jet, which has a range of 6,000 miles, would allow him to fly anywhere in the world with just one stop. It would even save the ministry money on fuel. And to further his point, he said if Jesus was here today, he wouldn’t be trampling around on a donkey, he’d be flying the friendly skies in order to spread the gospel.[1]
There are so many things very wrong with this. To start with, God’s ministry is different from Jesse’s idea of ministry. God comes to us, we don’t fly up to God. That’s what the incarnation, Jesus coming to earth, is all about. Jesus came and walked around Galilee and Jerusalem in order to gather disciples. And, filled with the Spirit, they were sent out in different directions to spread the good news. Ministry is not about one person covering the globe, it’s about those of us who trust in Jesus being a part of his ministry. We all have a part in doing God’s ministry in the place to which God calls us.
Secondly, it’s absurd to think of Jesus flying a jet around the globe. Even in Jesus’ day, when he did rode a donkey, he didn’t own it. He borrowed one.[2] That aside, Jesse Duplontis already has three other planes sitting in hangers. Thinking about his “request,” I thought, “You know, I’d be overjoyed with a used Piper Cub.”
By the way, that’s a joke. I’m not a pilot. I have no real desire to become one. There is something about crawling into a plane with an inexperience pilot that makes me nervous. I like my pilots to have hundreds (if not thousands) of hours of flight experience. I could never solo by myself. Besides, I don’t need any more hobbies that could kill me.
Jesse also told his followers, “it’s not about the possessions, it’s about priorities.” Ironically, he’s right. I’m not so sure he really believes it, but that’s for God to decide. Our passage today shows us the importance of priorities and of the dangers of misusing God’s power. Luke, the author of Acts, provides us with three examples of the effect of Jesus’ power:
The first group we encounter in today’s reading couldn’t pass a basic theology exam, yet their priorities are right. They are open and eager to learn. They have been baptized by John’s disciples and they’ve heard about Jesus, but they don’t know about the Holy Spirit. In this way, they are handicapped.
If you remember, as I preached through the first 18 chapters of the Acts of the Apostles, I often said this book should have been called “The Acts of God through the Apostles.” This book of scripture isn’t about what the Apostles did to build the church. Instead, the book is about the Spirit filling the Apostles and giving them the power of Jesus to carry out God’s plan. Now that these disciples in Ephesus have learned the truth, they are baptized as Jesus’ disciples. Afterwards, when Paul lays his hands on them, they’re filled with the Spirit. They experience the power of Jesus’ name, the power that fills us with the Spirit and allows us to do incredible things for the Kingdom.
The second way we see the Spirit’s effect is with the opposition in the synagogue against Paul and those who accept Jesus’ message. The power of Jesus’ name creates division. Jesus pointed this out.[3] While our goal is to bring everyone into a relationship with Christ, it’s not going to be accomplished this side of eternity. There will always be opposition. I am not sure why we are surprised when it happens, but from my experience whenever a church is doing something good and positive, challenges arise. Opposition grows!
Now look at how Paul handles this challenge. He doesn’t continue to beat a dead horse. After a while, he decides it is time to move on. He takes with him those who are interested in growing within this movement that was then known as “The Way.” They leave the synagogue and move into a lecture hall own by a guy named Tyrannus. There’s been a lot made over this name, which means tyrant. What kind of parent would name their child that?[4] Commentators have speculated that since he had this lecture hall, he must have been a teacher and perhaps this was a nickname given to him by students. I certainly had a few teachers in my life whom I considered a tyrant.
Back to the opposition to Paul’s teaching. It’s interesting that instead of fighting back, Paul simply moves. His priority is to build a congregation in Ephesus. To have put up a fight he would have missed out on his main purpose, teaching about Jesus. Those who stubbornly refused to believe isn’t worth his time and threatens to sabotage his ministry. Paul moves on. Jesus gave similar instructions to the 70 disciples whom he sent out two-by-two.[5] If they weren’t well received, they were to wipe the dust off their feet and move on. I wonder if today’s churches (both congregations and denominations) lose the vision of the mission when we spend time arguing over things that are not essential.
Finally, we learn about some fake magicians who, seeing there is power in Jesus’ name, decides to claim this power for themselves. Priorities are important, as Jesse said. And these dudes have their priorities mixed up. They aren’t interested in spreading the good news, they’re interested in what they can obtain for themselves. And they find themselves in over their heads. Luke may have included this story to remind his readers that being filled with God’s Spirit isn’t some kind of magic.[6] The power isn’t in what we do, but in the God who acts.
Our text tells us that these were Jewish magicians, but the text also raises some questions as to their true background. These seven sons of a Jewish high priest named Sceva smells a little fishy. First of all, there is no history of a high priest by this name. Furthermore, it’s not a Hebrew name, it’s Roman. A high priest of the Jewish faith wouldn’t be known by a Roman name. Perhaps these dudes aren’t even Jewish. Certainly, those from the Jewish faith reading this account in the first century would have known they are not related to real high priest. [7]
I expect these magicians tacked on this title as a way to sell themselves. There seems to be a human tendency to look for magic in the exotic. People are intrigued by these dudes, until they try cast out demons. At that point, they get themselves in trouble as the demons, who knows Jesus and Paul, attack. When it’s over their clothes are stripped off and, bloody and bruised, they steak through the streets of Ephesus.
Observing this, more people became convinced of the power in Jesus’ name and believe for the right reason. As the Gospel spreads, books of magic are discarded. Magicians give up their livelihood for the truth. Their willingness to accept the gospel stands in contrast to another profession in Ephesus. We’ll see about that next week. Stay tuned!
Sunrise, Wrightsville Beach, NC, 2008
What can we take from this passage? Two things: there’s power in Jesus’ name, but for that power to be accessed, it can’t be about us. We must have our priorities right. We must be focused on God’s work! That’s our challenge as followers of Jesus. Amen.
[1] https://www.usatoday.com/story/news/nation-now/2018/05/29/televangelist-wants-new-jet/653202002/
[2] Matthew 21:1-9, Mark 11:1-10, and Luke 17:28-31.
[3] Luke 12:49-53.
[4] F. F. Bruce, The Book of the Acts (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1986),388 n18.
[5] Matthew 9:14, Luke 10:10-11.
[6] William H. WIllimon, Acts: Interpretation, a Bible Commentary for Teaching and Preaching (1988, Louisville, KY: Westminster/John Knox Press, 2010), 147.
[7] F. F. Bruce, 390.
Cabbage Soup and Beet Soup
Last Wednesday evening was the final Bible Study class until fall. During these classes, someone volunteers to make soup and provide bread for a simple meal. As I am teaching, I don’t often volunteer, but as we were coming toward the end of this season’s classes I volunteered to prepare soups. It was a good way to get winter vegetables out of the garden while making room for summer vegetables. The beets, cabbage, carrots, and onions all came from my garden. I found recipes I liked on the internet and then altered them to fit what I had and the amount I need. I asked which soup they preferred and most everyone said the cabbage (a few people didn’t even try the beet soup, which was my favorite). Here are the recipes:
Beet Soup
Several onions, chopped
5 stalks of celery, chopped
3 carrots, chopped
6 cloves of garlic, chopped
3 cups of thin sliced beets
10 cups vegetable broth
Oil
Salt and pepper
Sour cream
Heat oil and then saute onion, celery, carrots and garlic till soft. Add beets and cook a couple of minutes more. Then stir in the vegetable broth, bring to a boil, then cover and simmer. Cook until the beets are tender. Using an immersion blender to mix soup together and serve with sour cream. I also tried this soup cold the next day and found it delicious, too.
Cabbage Soup
3 onions, chopped
6 cloves of garlic, chopped
Head of cabbage, cored and chopped
3 quarts chicken broth
1 quart water
2 cans of stewed tomatoes
Basil, oregano, salt and pepper to taste
Oil
Heat oil and sauté onion and garlic till transparent. Stir in water and broth. Bring to boil, then stir in cabbage and spices. Simmer till the cabbage is mostly done (10 minutes). Drain and add the stewed tomatoes and spices, bring to boil then simmer for 30 minutes
I prepared both soups on the stove, but then put the soups in a slow cooker to keep them warm while serving.
Alister McGrath, In the Beginning: The Story of the King James Bible and How It Changes a Nation, A Language, and a Culture (2001: New York: Anchor, 2002). 338 pages, a few illustrations, list of sources and an index.
While I do not think this book lives up to its subtitle, I thoroughly enjoyed and highly recommend it. Dealing with how the King James Bible changed a nation, language and culture was briefly covered in the last two chapters. McGrath goes into much more detail in the events leading up to the publication of the King James Bible. First was the impact of the Renaissance and the development of the printing press. Then there was the influence of the Reformation and the need for Bibles in the vernacular (the language of the people). Finally, there was the English Reformation and all its political turmoil. McGrath covers these broad topics masterfully as he sets the stage for the King James translation.
Prior to the publication of the King James Bible, there was the Geneva Bible. This was an English translation produced by a group of English Protestant in exile during the reign of Mary Tudor. This was the Bible of Shakespeare and the Pilgrims and those who settled the Massachusetts Bay Colony. This Bible included textual notes reflective of Calvin’s Geneva, including the political views of a republic. The notes in the Geneva Bible were seen as problematic by both the Church of England and the monarchy, for they acknowledged the rights of subjects to revolt against ungodly kings and bishops. The established church attempted to overcome the Geneva Bible with the publication of the “Bishops’ Bible,” but the Geneva Bible took hold. By the late 1560s, it was being printed in Scotland, and despite attempts to suppress the Bible, it remained the most popular Bible in England for a century.
Queen Elizabeth assumed the throne after Mary Tudor. As a Protestant, her long reign helped solidify the religious standing of England. However, during her reign, the Puritan movement challenged the established church. The Puritans were closely aligned to the Scottish Presbyterians. When James became king, having served as King of Scotland, it was felt he would be more open to the Puritan cause. But James feared the Puritans and hated the notes found within the Geneva Bible, viewing them as a threat to his divine rights as king. With a rise of religious tension, James called for a meeting of religious leaders at Hampton Court. There, the decision to authorize a new publication of the Bible was suggested by John Reynolds. Ironically, Reynolds was a Puritan leader.
Richard Bancroft, the bishop of London and an adherent opponent of both Puritanism and Catholicism, oversaw the translation. The Bible was divided up into six parts, with a team of people working on each section. There were two teams each from Cambridge, Oxford and Westminster. Bancroft provided a set of rules for the translation teams that encouraged the translators to give favor to the Bishops’ Bible over other translations. However, they were allowed to consult other translations including the Geneva Bible if they felt the textual reading wasn’t correct. By drawing on these older texts, some of the language within this new translation had already become obsolete within the English language.
Interestingly, when the King James Bible was first published in 1611, it wasn’t a big hit. For the next fifty years, the Geneva Bible continued to dominate the English speaking world. Even some of the translators of the King James Bible continued to use the Geneva Bible. With no money provided for production cost and only one printer with a monopoly for publishing the Bible, its price remained high. Cheaper Bibles were available and being published on the continent. The popularity of the Geneva Bible notes remained so great that there were even King James Bibles published which included the Geneva notes.
After James’ death, his son, Charles I, became king. Charles, along with Bishop Laud, began a battle against the Geneva Bible, which was a part of the political maneuvering leading up to the English Revolution. It wasn’t until after the Revolution and the restoration of the monarchy that the King James Bible was widely received. After the Revolution, all things Puritan, including the Geneva Bible, were shunned. McGrath notes that England quickly dropped all things Puritan in a way similar to how quickly Germany dropped Nazism at the end of the Second World War.
By the 19th Century, the King James Bible reigned supreme within the English world. Most homes in the English speaking world had a copy. It influenced literature and culture, as McGrath briefly demonstrates. Interestingly, the English language was in flux in the 17th Century, when the King James Bible was being created. As the Bible drew on older English translations, it helped keep alive some traditions that were falling out of use (such as the –eth endings). There are also a number of words that are found in the translation that would change their meaning, increasing the need seen for a new translation after World War I.
This is a fascinating book and I recommend it. McGrath does a good job explaining one of the mysteries separating Protestants and Catholics. Protestants add the “Doxology” at the end of the Lord’s Prayer (which is omitted by the Catholics). The line, “For thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, for ever,” was in the Greek Matthew text used for the translators. Today, it is widely accepted that the older manuscripts didn’t contain this line and in most modern translations it is not included. But the line was included in the Prayer Books and have become the way Protestants say the Lord’s Prayer. Although the translators were working with manuscripts no older than the 10th Century, and though were not trying to create a poetic language, but a Bible to be read in worship, the translation is still considered very good and its language is beautiful. While much more could be written about the influence of the King James Bible, the history of it deserves to be told and McGrath does a fine job telling its story.
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
May 27, 2018
John 3:1-17
In the liturgical calendar, today is Trinity Sunday. The Trinity, like God, cannot be fully understood by those of us who are mere mortals. It’s a mystery. Yet, it’s a key concept of the Christian faith. The doctrine developed out of an attempt to understand, as much as possible, God and God’s love for the world. The Father creates and loves the world; the Son, in love, redeems the world; and the Spirit, in love, draws us back to the Father and Son. In John 3, our passage for today, all three persons of the Godhead are witnessed. Most people know John 3:16, but there is a lot more in this chapter as Nicodemus comes to Jesus at dark. Read John 3:1-17.
Word has gotten around about Jesus. If you’ve read the previous chapter, you’ll know about Jesus changing water into wine and creating a commotion in the temple. Some are intrigued; others angered. To some folks, Jesus is the hero, a modern day Jeremiah willing to stand against the powerful and expose corruption. To others, especially those within the ruling elite, Jesus is a dangerous demagogue. But the boundaries aren’t quite so clear-cut. For there are some with positions of prestige at the temple, where feelings are running high against Jesus, who wonder about this teacher from Galilee. Nicodemus is such a man. As a member of the Sanhedrin, he’s a leader within the Jewish faith. He’s one of seventy members of this governing body that’s presided over by the chief priest. He’s the type of individual who has a lot to lose with episodes like Jesus’ cleansing the temple, yet he’s drawn to the Savior. “Maybe Jesus is right,” Nicodemus thinks.
One night when Jesus is in town, after everyone else is in bed, Nicodemus calls. There are a variety of reasons Nicodemus may have visited Jesus at night. Did he not want anyone to know of his interest in the Galilean? Was that the reason why he slipped over to see Jesus after dark? Or was it because nighttime, when the world is quiet, the preferred time for rabbis to study? In that’s the case, Nicodemus uses his study hall time to learn more about Jesus. Although I agree with the first interpretation (that Nicodemus didn’t want to be seen), John uses the night visit to reinforce his themes of darkness and light.[1] Nicodemus comes to Jesus during the dark, but he’s seeking the light.
Let’s look at this encounter between Jesus and Nicodemus. As I retell the story, I’m borrowing heavily from Frederick Buechner. In Peculiar Treasures, he has a wonderful account of this meeting.[2]
Nicodemus waits until all the neighbors are asleep before knocking. Even though it’s after working hours for most people, Jesus welcomes him. Nicodemus finds the Galilean to be patient and kind. But then after some chitchatting, Jesus drops the bombshell. “Nicodemus, he says, “the whole thing boiled down to being born again. If you aren’t born again, you might as well give up.”
“That’s all very well,” Nicodemus continues sarcastically, “but just how are we to pull something like that off? How can a man of sixty-five be born again when it’s challenging enough to get out of bed in the morning. Can a man enter his mother’s womb a second time, when it’s all he could do to enter a taxi without the driver coming around and giving him a shove?”
A gust of wind happens to whistle down the chimney at this point, making the dying embers burst into flame. “Being born again is just like that,” Jesus says. It’s not something you do. The wind does it. The Spirit does it. It’s something that happens.” Shaking his head, Nicodemus asks, “How can this be?” Jesus then really lets the old Pharisee have it.
“Maybe you got six honorary doctorates and a half a column in Who’s Who,” Jesus shouts, “but if you can’t see something as plain as the nose on your face, you’d better go back to kindergarten. I’m telling you like it is. I’m telling you what I’ve seen,” Jesus continues, “I’m telling you there are people on Medicare walking around with the love-light in their eyes. I’m telling you there are ex-cons teaching Sunday School. I’m telling you there are undertakers scared silly we’ll put them out of business.”
Nicodemus is speechless as Jesus proceeds. “I’m telling you God’s got such a thing for this loused-up planet that he’s sent me down so if you don’t believe your own eyes, then maybe you’ll believe mine, maybe you’ll believe me, maybe you won’t come sneaking around scared half to death in the dark but will come to, come clean, come to life.”
Nicodemus breath is quickening and his heart is pounding. He hasn’t felt this way since his first kiss, since the time his first child was born, or the time they told him he didn’t have heart attack, only a bout of ingestion.
Jesus continues on, talking about himself as he reminds Nicodemus of God’s love for the world, a love that God sends his only Son to redeem. God doesn’t want to condemn the world but to save it.
What can we learn from this discourse between Jesus and Nicodemus?
First of all, I wonder if most of us aren’t a little like Nicodemus. We hear about Jesus, perhaps we are somewhat interested, but don’t want to come out in the open to check him out. Most of us don’t want to do anything not considered “cool”—or whatever the word of the day may be. In a world where the self-sufficient survive, accepting the grace Jesus freely offers could be interpreted as a sign of weakness. So we either reject Jesus’ teachings, or we alter them in such a way that they are more palatable to our taste. An example of us making Jesus more palatable comes from an editorial a few years back that spoke of Jesus “bulking up.” According to the editorialist, Jesus now appears in popular culture looking more like a professional wrestler or an angry soldier. Such images “Speaks to a muscular evangelism tired of turning the other cheek.”[3]
Altering Jesus’ teachings in such a manner, just like rejecting him, keeps us in the dark, is wrong. If we want to accept him, we have to come out into the open. We have to “let our light shine,”[4] for it is only in the light that we are able to purge ourselves of all that has been corrupted and move toward holiness.
When we come to the light, when we come to Jesus, we are forced to see ourselves for who we are. Jesus confronts our innermost fears—the primary fear being death. I think this is one the reasons Jesus refers to Moses lifting up the snake and linking it to his own upcoming death. The Hebrew people during the Exodus were afraid of the snakes. What does God have Moses do? He has the people look at a bronze snake that he lifts up on a pole.[5] Only by looking at that which they fear are they able to be saved. Only by Jesus dying, experiencing our worst fear—death—is he able to save us. And for us to experience the salvation he offers, we too have to die, we have to let go of the past and move into his future.
But this isn’t something we can do on our own. The second thing we learn is that salvation is a mystery; it’s tied to God’s action. We don’t save ourselves. Nicodemus is right, there’s no way we can crawl into our mothers wombs and be born again. And that’s the point. There is no way we can do this! In the other gospels, Jesus makes says it is easier for a camel to go through an eye of a needle than it is for the rich to go to heaven.[6] Again, it can’t be done and that’s the point. This is God’s work, not ours.
It drives me nuts when someone talks about how we just have to accept Jesus and are born again as if it is just an easy intellectual decision. Such a person may lift themselves up as an example. But the truth is that by our own actions we can’t be born again. The only thing we can do is open ourselves up to that mysterious wind, to the Spirit which blows on God’s command. We can present ourselves as a sacrifice to God, we can say yes to God, but the hard work belongs to God.
Being born again, or being born anew, can also be translated as being born from above, as the New Revised Standard Version of the Bible renders it. And that’s what must happen. God has to act. God has to come down from heaven and enter our world. We can’t save ourselves: God must come into our lives through Jesus Christ and transform us. And when we’ve experienced this renewal, it’s not something we should brag about or think of ourselves as superior to others. Being born again is humbling!
Think about our encounter with Jesus Christ in this way. You fall into the Intracoastal Waterway and can’t swim. It’s not like you can quickly teach yourself to swim, and save yourself and be able to brag about your quick wits. Instead, you’ll be drowning and there’s nothing you can do but panic. Then, when someone pulls you out, and while you’re sitting, soaking wet, on dry ground, all you can do is to say humbly and respectfully, “thank you.”
Thank you Jesus for that wind that mysteriously blows into our lives at the right moment.
In addition to not bragging about our salvation, we shouldn’t look down on Nicodemus. It’s easy to think of him as being chicken, going to see Jesus at night. But the truth of the matter is that Nicodemus is a lot like us. He’s a seeker. Not only is he a seeker, he’s a scholar. He knows all about his Jewish heritage, what God has done for Israel, the-ins-and-the-outs of the Law given to Moses. His problem, at this point in his life, is that he can’t think outside the box. He’s trapped into his own little world and Jesus’ words just go over his head. This isn’t to say that Jesus is anti-intellectual. It’s just that knowledge alone isn’t enough for our salvation. If it was, all we’d need is to graduate from Sunday School. But we need so much more…
Nicodemus, if you follow his story, appears twice again in John’s gospel.[7] His interest in Jesus remains and maybe he did experience the movement of the Spirit. We can’t say for sure, but John’s purpose isn’t to give us Nicodemus’ story. John wants us to open ourselves up to the Spirit, so that we might accept and believe in Jesus Christ. Are we truly open to what God has, can, and will do through Jesus Christ? Or are we like Nicodemus, in our story today, confined by our own limited abilities and unwilling to accept the truth of the one who has the power to save?
Let us be open to that mysterious wind that blows freely. Accept God’s love and be humbled. Let us pray.
Almighty God, may we be open to the wind of your mighty spirit, blowing through our lives. May that wind blow us into a relationship with you and your Son, so that we experience the fullness of your love. May that wind fan a flame in our lives that expresses your love to the rest of your creation. This we pray in the name of the Triune God, Father, Son and Spirit. Amen.
©2018
[1] For a discussion of the various reasons the visit may have occurred at night, see Raymond E. Brown, The Gospel According to John I-XII: The Anchor Bible (New York: Doubleday, 1966), 130. Although I, and Brown, disagree with the interpretation that Nicodemus came at night because it was his study time, a minority of interpreters follows this line of thinking. See Patricia Farris, “Late-night Seminar,” Christian Century, January 30, 2002.
[2] Frederick Buechner, Peculiar Treasures: A Biblical Who’s Who (San Francisco: Harper & Row, 1979),119-121.
[3] O. Benjamin Sparks, “What the New Year Holds,” The Presbyterian Outlook, January 3, 2005. Sparks quotes from an editorial titled “What Did Jesus Look Like,” Richmond Times-Dispatch, December 9, 2004.
[4] Matthew 5:16.
[5] Numbers 21:4-9.
[6] Matthew 19:24, Mark 10:25, Luke 18:25
[7] John 7:50-51, 19:39.
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
Ezekiel 37:1-14
May 20, 2018
I pretty much thought I had the sermon all together Friday. Then, after the wonderful preschool graduation, I came home and learned about the latest school shooting. These have become all to frequent. As I had planned my sermon around Ezekiel’s experience in the Valley of Dry Bones, I realized I was not through with my sermon.
In our polarized world, there are all kinds of debates around how we are to “fix” the issue of mass shootings in our country. I am not going to offer a solution. But I want to tell you this: the message of Pentecost is that God can do incredible things through us. Get that, through us! We’re now God’s soldiers in the world. And we have to be willing to take risks and to trust in God’s divine spark, not our own wisdom or ideology. When we depend on ourselves, we quench the spirit and snuff out the flame. Come, Lord Jesus, Come and fill us with your Spirit. Set us on fire that we may call people to your kingdom of love.
We’ve already heard the passage about the disciples in the Upper Room waiting on the Spirit. Our Old Testament reading is from the 37th Chapter of Ezekiel…
Fresh out of college, Richard Rubin headed to Alabama where he worked for a newspaper and had a jazz show on a local radio station. One night at the station, he was handed an emergency announcement. A tornado had been sighted. He was in the midst of telling everyone to take cover when the twister hit the station’s tower and was knocked off air. A week later a temporary tower had been set up and they were back on air. The first night he was back at the mic, a middle aged woman called the station and shouted, “Praise Jesus! I reckoned you were dead.” I like that, “I reckoned you were dead.”[1]
Today’s scripture readings are all about people who reckoned they were dead being brought back to life by the wind of God’s Spirit.
Let’s take a trip to Babylon, that great city where the Prophet Ezekiel lives with a remnant of the Hebrew people. As a priest, Ezekiel has the unpleasant task of being the cheerleader for a beaten team. The Babylonians have not only conquered and destroyed Jerusalem, they are sending much of the population into exile. Homeless and without a temple, the people of God are lost. They feel if they are at the end of their existence. Life has left them. With the temple in Jerusalem destroyed, it feels as if they’re cut off from God. The temple had been their connection to the Almighty for centuries. As a people, they feel as if they are dry bones, slowly bleaching out in the hot desert sun.
The situation with the disciples and those gathered in the Upper Room on Pentecost may not have been much different. The followers of Jesus, who seemed to be confused when Jesus was present, have now been without his guidance for some time. They are weary, waiting, and beat. They are afraid they too might end up like Jesus, nailed to a cross. Scared, and unable to think clearly, they hid. They seem about as likely as a bunch of dry bones to start the Jesus movement.
And look at us. Are we any better? Too many people these days reckon the Church is dead.
It’s always easier to be pessimistic than optimistic. But in both of these Biblical passages, pessimism seems logical. After all, what hope can a defeated nation or a collection of poor Palestinian Jews have? Or what hope does the graying church in America have these days? We at SIPC are on the leading edge of that graying movement. Will people listen to us, to our message of love and hope, to our critique of a sinful world and our call to a new kingdom?
Events like Friday’s shooting hangs over us. We realize with all our resources, with all our skill, with all our prayers, things appear helpless… Batten down the hatches, arm ourselves, seal off the borders, be safe. There is no doubt that we live in a dangerous world, but our help, as the Psalmist reminds us, “is in the name of the Lord, who created heaven and earth.”[2]
Like Ezekiel’s audience, we’re in exile. We’re captives. We’re captive to our own abilities (of which we over-estimate). We’re captive to our own expectations (which are often low). And we’re captive to the expectations of others. We want to be liked and respected and more often are willing to do what it takes in an attempt to reach such objectives than to see where God is calling us. God calls is to the cross. God’s call is to the pain in the world, to comfort and to offer hope of a new and better world to come.
My question is will we ever faithfully fulfill the tremendous responsibility God has given us?
God’s people have always had its critics and quite often we’ve deserved them. There is much for which God’s people can be criticized. We are often hypocritical, saying one thing and doing another. Or we think we know what we should be doing and dive head first into the pool without prayer or consulting God’s word. That’s like jumping in the pool without knowing how to swim. You know, it’s a wonder the church still exists. After all, we didn’t even start off on the right foot. In that upper room there was Peter, who’d denied Jesus three times. There was Thomas, who’d doubted Jesus. There were others who’d ran when afraid. In Babylon, there was those who felt the faith tradition that had been handed down since Abraham and Moses was all done for… Yet, 4,000 years after Abraham, God’s people still exist in the world. Why? Because it’s not about us. God’s Spirit still moves in the world.[3]
You know, both the Hebrew and Greek word translated as Spirit derive from a world that relates to the movement of air, or wind.[4] To the ancient people, wind was mysterious. We know a bit more about wind today, everything from how ocean and land temperatures, jet streams, mountains and high rise buildings affect wind. But the ancients didn’t have a clue what caused wind. Like God, wind was a mystery, which may be why they used the word to as describe God’s Spirit. It’s why I often smile when I feel the wind on my face, I am reminded of God.
Between Christmas and New Year’s Eve, in my first year of college, my uncle and I decided to backpack a new trail that ran the length of the Uwharrie Mountains in central North Carolina. We picked one of the coldest weeks of a cold winter. The temperature at night dropped down below zero. But the stars were brilliant at night and the air still. When you exhaled into the cold, your breath seemed to hold together in front of your face for a few seconds. The last thing I wanted to do in that weather was to struggle to build a fire in the morning, so I carefully banked the fire and then put stones around and on top in the hope that in the morning, they’d still be some coals. I woke around two in the morning, startled. The wind had picked up and flames were shooting through the rocks and reflecting off the tent walls. The fire needed tending before our camp became an inferno. While my uncle slept, I crawled out of my warm bag and took care of it.
Just as wind can give new life to smoldering coals, God’s Spirit is with us and can bring new life. That’s what happens in both of our Scripture readings this morning. Ezekiel is shown a vision of a valley of dry bones and asked if they can live again.[5] Notice his answer. He doesn’t say, “Yes, Lord, you can do anything.” Ezekiel hedges his bets, saying, “Oh Lord God, you know.” At least he got that part right, if those bones live again, it’s only because of God’s intervention.
Then, Ezekiel is told to prophecy to the bones. We’re not told if he looked around to see if someone was watching. He prophesized and the bones began to come alive. In what would make a good zombie flick, muscles begin to attach to bone and skin grows on top. Pretty soon, there is a multitude of bodies… But there is no life in them, so he’s ordered to call out the breath of God, which upon his call comes forth the four winds. Now you have standing at attention, a vast multitude, an army for God, waiting for orders.
In our New Testament reading, God’s Spirit appears as flames that come upon a scared collection of people in hiding. The Spirit gives them the boldness to go out into the street proclaiming what God has done in Jesus Christ. The Spirit is the unifier, bringing God’s people together. If you read on a little further, you’d see that over 3000 converts are made that day. Although they had been depressed and pessimistic, when the Spirit came upon them, they no longer hid in the Upper Room, but go out and change the world.
These two stories show the power God has to change the situation. Nothing is hopeless if God is present. And God’s Spirit is still with us! Do you believe that? Things which seem futile to the human mind can seem quite minor when we are with God. If we believe God is with us, we can do incredible things. It’s not always easy, but if it’s worthwhile, it’ll be worth it. And let’s not forget, the reason the church survives is not because of our efforts, but because God is the one who gives us life. Things can become pretty bad, as they were in Babylon or after Jesus’ ascension, but God can always renew and restore. It takes but a breath upon dying coals to resurrection. It takes but a breath from God to set us on fire, to renew us for his work in the world.
Pessimism is a symptom, I believe, of trusting only in ourselves. As believers, we’re not to be pessimistic because our trust is not in us, it’s in a God who has the power to create and to restore. We can’t control what happens tomorrow, or even this afternoon. Realization and acceptance of this should humbly drive us to our knees. But when we realize the power of our God, we should then stand tall and be willing to step out in faith and work, with other believers, in building a better world.
I know the world often looks dark and it is easy to be pessimistic. But remember the saying we had on our sign a few weeks ago, “Courage is fear that said its prayers.” Friends, don’t be weary. Trust in God and step out in faith. The Spirit is with us. To the new elders, whom we’ll be ordaining and installing in a few minutes, remember that God’s Spirit is with you. Amen.
©2018
[1] Story was told by the Rev. Joanna Adams on the Protestant Hour, May 31, 1998. I added the jazz part after reading about Rubin’s stint down south.
[2] Psalm 134:8
[3] See Craig Barnes, “The Post-Anxiety Church,” The Christian Century (January 29, 2016). https://www.christiancentury.org/article/2016-01/post-anxiety-church
[4] The Greek pneuma comes from the verb pnewo meaning air movement: wind, breeze or breath. Likewise, the Hebrew “ruah” means wind, moving air, or breath.
[5] Ezekiel’s experience is often interpreted as a vision, but others suggest it might have been a trance or seizure. See Margaret S. Odell, Ezekiel, (Macon GA: Smyth & Helwys, 2005), 454.
Where there is despair, give hope.
Where there is darkness, bring light.
Where there is ignorance, grant wisdom,
And for those of us who have grasped the truth, give humility.
-Rev. Dr. Raymond Nott
One of the benefits and highlights of serving the Presbyterian Church in the Plains, Rocky Mountains and Great Basin of the American West was the opportunity to attend the Omaha Seminary Summer School of Religion in Hastings, Nebraska for a week during the summer. The Omaha Seminary closed in the depression, but the monies of the seminary were invested in the Omaha Seminary Foundation and used to further the education of those within the area formerly served by the seminary. These week long events featured great food, fellowship, lectures, entertainment, and preaching. It was at one of these events that I got to know the late Frank Harrington, pastor of Peachtree Presbyterian Church. I also privileged to study under people like Paul and Elizabeth Achtemeier and James Sanders. Paul taught New Testament and Elizabeth taught Old Testament at Union Theological Seminary in Richmond. James Sanders was known for his work on the Dead Sea Scrolls.
The seminars also tapped their sessions, which allowed me to re-listen to some of the more enlightening lectures and sermons. I was also blessed to find in my first office in Cedar City (before we built the new church) the tapes from previous summer seminars that my predecessor, John McCandless, had attended. During this period of my ministry, I often found my way running up and down Interstate 15 for meetings in Salt Lake City. Lot’s of long drives. I listened to all of these old tapes, too, and was especially intrigued by the sermons of Ray Nott. He was a long-term pastor from Wyoming, who upon retirement spent two years as a missionary in Bangkok. His sermons, which drew upon his experiences in the American West and Thailand, were funny and meaningful. I would have enjoyed meeting him, but never had the opportunity and he died about the time I moved from Utah. Before each sermon, Nott gave the above prayer. I no longer have those cassette tapes (and would struggle to find a player, if I had the tapes), but I remember the prayer.
Front of the house in Michigan. Interpret as you will, two paths, one four our four legged friend and the other to the driveway…
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
May 13, 2018
Psalm 1
We’re exploring the very first Psalm today. Before we get to the Scripture, I want talk a bit about Psalms.
Whenever I’ve preached from the Psalms, I’ve tried to impress upon you that the book was a hymnal and worship resource for the Hebrew people. When you read the Psalms, you may have notice many of them have Hebrews words like Selah written in the margins. It’s thought that this was an instruction for the musicians, maybe the point when a cymbal would clap or the tempo increased. We don’t know exactly what it means, but that’s the best guess of scholars. Many of the Psalms indicate worship, calling us to come into God’s presence, to sing God’s praise.[1]
I’ve been teaching a class on reading and understanding scripture for the past month. For those of you in the class, you’ll recall how we have to consider the historical setting for a text, along with its form and structure. We see the importance of this when looking at the Psalms and especially this particular one.
Those who study the Hebrew Scriptures generally date the coming together of this Psalms, and much of the Old Testament, to the Babylonian period. It was a time when the Hebrew people were in exile. During that era, away from the Promised Land, the now ruined temple and the holy city of Jerusalem, the Jewish people collected their writings as a way to preserve their religious heritage. Text that had been passed on orally were written down. Other texts, like the Psalms, which existed as fragments, were collected and put together into books. Individually, many of the Psalms themselves are much older, some attributed to David and to earlier era of Israel’s history. We can image that the collection of the Psalms was much like the publishing of a hymnal today. A group of people gathers and decides on the hymns used and their placement in the hymnal, and then sends a rough draft off to the printer. Same thing happened then, only they didn’t have a printer and had to send a copy to scribes who copied it by hand.
Let’s consider a few hymnals. I grew up with the Red Hymnal—it was published by the Presbyterian Church a few years before my birth and was the main hymnal in use for over 35 years.[2] The first hymn in this hymnal is “Praise Ye the Lord, the Almighty.” Do you think this hymn was chosen randomly? I don’t think so. It’s a fitting hymn for Presbyterians, the focus being on God Almighty and not on ourselves. Our own hymnal, the first selection is “Joyful, Joyful, We Adore Thee.” Again, is was it picked randomly? I don’t think so, for it calls us into worship with a joyful heart. In the same way, when the collection of Psalms were compiled, there was an intentional decision, as they were led by God’s Spirit, to place what we know as Psalm 1 at the beginning of the collection.[3]
This Psalm was picked to remind the Hebrew people, and us, that if our prayers and songs are to mean anything, our lives must reflect God’s will. Ponder what it says as we listen to God’s word. READ PSALM 1.
V & T Railroad, south of Gold Hill, NV
“Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,” the poet Robert Frost wrote in his famous poem first published in 1916.[4] Likewise, according to the Psalmist, there are two options for those of us who believe in the God of Abraham, the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. We can be on God’s side, rewarded by the one who gives life. Or we can take the road of the scoffers, the path that allows us to think we or something else is god, the path that will lead us away from the Almighty, the path to destruction. Two ways: God’s way which leads to life and the other road to death. Two ways, the choice is ours. Which one will it be?
You know, today is Mother’s Day and this psalm could have been written by my mother (and, I’m sure, by many of your mothers). Mothers worry about their children following the right path, and there is probably nothing more tragic than a mother dealing with the disappointment of a wayward child.[5]
Our psalm opens with a beatitude, promising us that if we’re good and on God’s side, we’ll be blessed and have a happy life. But the opening line also reminds us of competing claims within the world. Happiness comes from not accepting the advice of the wicked. Their guidance run counter to God’s word. The first verse makes it abundantly clear to the reader that we should we should avoid such people… Accept their advice? Strike one. Follow their paths? Strike two. And sit in their assemblies? Three strikes; you’re out. Instead, after making three negative suggestions, the Psalm reminds us that we’re to delight and mediate on God’s law.
The idea of delighting in laws is foreign for most of us. I mean, we’re running late and the speed limit is only 35 miles per hour, as it is on Landings Way South. We curse the car in front of us that’s maintaining the legal speed. We see laws as being burdensome; they hold us back, or so it seems. Of course, if we live on that street and have a child who plays in the front yard, we understand and don’t want anyone to drive by at 60 miles an hour. If we put ourselves in such a place, we see the rational of the law. We have to admit that most laws are for our benefit or for the benefit of society. Of course, I still can’t see the reason some states outlaw barefoot driving.
God’s law, like most laws of the state, provides a boundary within which we can live life abundantly. Within these guidelines, life flourishes. Outside them, life diminishes. If we understand the law this way, we should take delight in it. We should learn and take to heart God’s instructions on how to live abundantly and to relate to one another and to Almighty faithfully.
Psalm 1 is just one of several Psalms that extol the virtues of following God’s laws. Perhaps the best known, of such Psalms, is the 119, which is also the longest Psalm in scripture, going on for 176 verses. If I ever decide to preach on the whole 119 Psalm, I’ll give you advance warning so you can pack a picnic… Of course, that week, nobody will show up. Both Psalms, the 1st, which is rather short, and the 119, a marathon, encourage us to pay attention to the ways of the Almighty. Near the opening of the longer Psalm we’re encouraged to “delight in God’s decrees as much as we do in riches, to meditate on God’s precepts, to fix our eyes on God’s ways, to delight in God’s statutes, and not to forget God’s word.”[6] These positive verbs direct us toward God and an understanding of God’s laws.
Now let me clarify a point. We can get a bit carried away with our emphasis on the law. After all, the law does not have the power to save us. The law points to our need for Jesus’ salvation and by obeying them, we’re allowed to enjoy life here and now. Obeying the law isn’t going to save us, but it will make our lives better and that’s its purpose.[7]
I like this idea of mediating on the law that’s found in both the 1st and 119th Psalm. It doesn’t mean memorizing the 10 commandments (although that’s not a bad idea) or the 600 and some other laws found in the Hebrew Scriptures. Instead, to meditate means to internalize the laws so they become, by second nature, our guiding rule. Such meditation will allow God’s will to shape our will, and ultimately, that’s what it’s all about, us following God’s will.
If we are following God’s will, we’ll be like that tree by a stream. Such trees grow fast, drawing upon available water. Likewise, if we live in a way that allows ourselves to be nourished by God, our lives will indeed be blessed. We may not have the riches or the power that we once desired, but we will be content and at peace with ourselves and with God.
Spring along the Thornapple River, MI
Of course, this psalm presents parallel images. The righteous is like a well-watered tree. The wicked, however, have no roots. They’re like the chaff that comes off the wheat during the milling process. The chaff blows away, it easily burns and no longer sustains life. The choice we make, whether to follow or run from God, determines which image applies. Do we want to be a tree, or husk blown in the wind? These two images lead the Psalmists to conclude with a warning of judgment. The wicked, the chaff, will be judged. But the righteous, the one watered by the Lord, will stand tall.
The choice is ours. Whose side are we own? Those who compiled the Psalms placed this particular Psalm first, so that when someone began to read this book, he or she would be encouraged to make a decision to follow God and seek out God’s ways in all they do. In a way, Psalm 1 prepares us for the rest of the Psalms, which quite interestingly consist of five books, as in the Law, or the Torah.[8] The Torah called the Hebrew people to align themselves with God. Likewise, the Psalmist calls us to align ourselves with God, drawing upon the rest of the Psalms as that tree draws upon water.[9]
“Two roads diverge in a yellow wood…” Which one will you take? Psalmist calls you to take the way outlined in this book, to mediate and internalize God’s word. Amen.
©2018
[1] See especially Psalms 95-100 and 145-150.
[2] The “Red Hymnal” was titled The Hymnbook was published in 1955. There was a hymnal titled The Worship Book that was published in 1970, but it wasn’t received very well and many churches continued to use the “Red Hymnal” until the 1990 publication of The Presbyterian Hymnal.
[3] Eugene Peterson, Answering God: The Psalms as Tools for Prayer (San Francisco: Harper & Row, 1989), 25-28.
[4] Robert Frost, The Poetry of Robert Frost, Edward Connery Lathem, editor (NY: Holt, Rinehart and Winston, 1969), 105.
[5] See comments about mothers watching their sons die in a BBC article on the woman who served as communication director for the Texas Prison in Huntsville and who has observed more than 300 executions. http://www.bbc.com/news/world-us-canada-43995866
[6] Psalm 119:14-16.
[7] John Calvin and other reformers taught that the law had three purposes: to show our need for repentance, to help us live in God’s will, and to help keep the reprobate in check.
[8] The Torah consists of Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers and Deuteronomy. The five books of the Psalms, which each close with a benediction, are Psalms 1-41, 42-72, 73-89, 90-106, and 107-150.
[9] James L. Mays, Psalms: Interpretation, a Biblical Commentary for Teaching and Preaching (Louisville: John Knox Press, 1994), 40-44.
Helen McKenzie Garrison Wright 2016-2016
My grandmother was moved from her home of 70 years in 2008, to an assisted living facility near my Uncle’s near Hickory NC. In 2009, I was back visiting in NC and my Uncle brought my grandmother back to her home for a week. My daughter and I came down to visit her. It was a wonderful time and I could tell my grandma was excited being back in her own home. My grandmother’s house has also been a welcome retreat for me and for many others, for she has always been a gracious host. This was a post from a former blog written at that time. The poem, I realized, goes well with the passage for the sermon I’m working on based on Psalm 1 (where the Psalmist encourages his readers not to sit in the seat of scoffers). To read more about my grandmother, click here.
My grandmother came back home looking for a book of poetry. Finding the book, she was upset that it didn’t have the poem for which she was looking. She told me about making a booklet of poems when she was in the seventh grade. The assignment was to copy poems they liked and to draw pictures to illustrate them. The two poems she remembered are Joyce Kilmer’s “Trees” and one titled “The House Beside the Road.” She illustrated the first with a tree, the second with a house. Grandma asked if I knew the poem, but I didn’t. Then I got an idea. Pulling out my Blackberry, I googled the poem. I came up with a poem by Scarlett Treat and read it to my Grandmother. She didn’t think that was the one because it was sad and about a house falling down. The poem she remembered talked about how to live a life. With some further checking, I learned that Ms. Treat was born while my father was in elementary school, making it highly unlikely my grandmother was reading her poetry in the seventh grade. So I did some more googling and came up with the poem, “The House by the Side of the Road” by Sam Walter Foss (1858-1911). As I read aloud, my grandmother smiled and said, “Yes, that’s it.” She was also excited but couldn’t understand how I was able to find it on my cell phone…
In many ways, this poem describes my grandmother, who has sought to be a friend to all. Here is the poem:
The House by the Side of the Road
There are hermit souls that live withdrawn
In the place of their self-content;
There are souls like stars, that dwell apart,
In a fellowless firmament;
There are pioneer souls that blaze the paths
Where highways never ran-
But let me live by the side of the road
And be a friend to man.
Let me live in a house by the side of the road
Where the race of men go by-
The men who are good and the men who are bad,
As good and as bad as I.
I would not sit in the scorner’s seat
Nor hurl the cynic’s ban-
Let me live in a house by the side of the road
And be a friend to man.
I see from my house by the side of the road
By the side of the highway of life,
The men who press with the ardor of hope,
The men who are faint with the strife,
But I turn not away from
their smiles and tears,
Both parts of an infinite plan-
Let me live in a house by the side of the road
And be a friend to man.
I know there are brook-gladdened meadows ahead,
And mountains of wearisome height;
That the road passes on through the long afternoon
And stretches away to the night.
And still I rejoice when the travelers rejoice
And weep with the strangers that moan,
Nor live in my house by the side of the road
Like a man who dwells alone.
Let me live in my house by the side of the road,
Where the race of men go by-
They are good, they are bad, they are weak, they are strong,
Wise, foolish – so am I.
Then why should I sit in the scorner’s seat,
Or hurl the cynic’s ban?
Let me live in my house by the side of the road
And be a friend to man.
-Sam Walter Foss
Sun sinking in the west from a kayak.. In the far distance, Loggerhead Lighthouse can be seen. The pilings on the right are from an old Navy coaling station that was built on Garden Key
Most of us camping on Garden Key stand together on the beach watching the light fade from the western sky. The skies are mostly clear and the water surrounding the Key and Fort Jefferson ripples in from the southerly wind. There’s a group of four women from South Florida along with several group of bird watchers from around the country. Soon a star appears in the southwest, Sirius, the Dog Star as well as Venus just above the horizon in the West. A few minutes later, the sky is darker. Rigel and Betelgeuse, the red star in Orion, are visible. “There’s Orion, setting early after having been up high all winter,” I say as I point out the stars. Soon we can make out the stars in Orion’s belt. In the spring, it appears as if the hunter is falling face-first out of the sky. A little later, all the stars of Orion and his faithful dog, Canis Major, are clearly visible. Other constellations pop out: Auriga, the charioteer; the V in Taurus the Bull; and Pleiades, the Seven Sisters. In mythology, the seven sisters looked out for travelers. We’re all travelers here, enjoying a few days 70 miles from civilization. There are no signals on our cell phones and no way to connect to the internet unless someone brought an antenna a for a satellite hookup. I look back behind me, to the northeast, and see the Big Dipper climbing higher in the sky. From it, I can easily find the North Star, low on the northern horizon, just above the ramparts of the fort. I point it out to the group.
“How you know so much about the stars,” one of the women from Miami asks.
“I don’t know,” I say, “I just like spending time outdoors, especially at night.”
Our campsite from the top of Fort Jefferson
Slowly people drift back to their tents. It’s been a tiring day as my sister, father and I had gotten up at 4:30 AM, in order to have our gear and kayaks at the ferry terminal at 6 AM for the run from Key West to the Tortugas. Then we had to set up camp before a cooling snorkel around the outside of the fort’s moot. After dinner, we paddled out by Bush and Long Key. The islands are closed off due to nesting, but we are allowed to paddle by them as long as we stay 100 feet offshore.
Sooty Terns and Brown Noodles flying from Bush Key. My father is in the kayak.
While paddling by Bush Key, where tens of thousands of Snooty Terns nest, birds dotted the sky. I don’t know if any of these birds spend time on the nest. They mostly fly around the key and out over the water, constantly chirping with one another. On Long Key, frigates are nesting. These large birds are as graceful as any navy frigate and the males, who puff up a red pouch under their head to attract females are able to strut better than any sailor on shore leave.
At nine-thirty, I crawl into my bivy tent. The wind is blowing hard and the tarp, what we erected to protect us from the tropic sun, flaps constantly. I am soon asleep.
Sunrise over Long Key from the docks at Garden Key
I arise at 6:30 am. The eastern sky is bright red. My sister has already started the charcoal in my stove and boiled water for her tea. I put coffee and water in my camping percolator and in a few minutes can see the water turn into dark black coffee. When Dad gets up, we have breakfast. I’ve brought oatmeal. My sister has boiled eggs and precooked bacon and grits. We cut up some fruit and split it between us.
Loggerhead Key Lighthouse
Our plan is to paddle to Loggerhead Key, which is located three miles to the west of Garden Key, the location of a long standing lighthouse (that went dark in 2014 and is no longer in use). We pack lunches and snorkel gear. I have a marine radio, but the rangers insist we take at least one more and loan my sister one. Although the tide doesn’t vary much here (just a foot to eighteen inches) it does create a flow that runs the channel between the two keys, so we are warned to watch for currents. Unless a fog rolls in, which doesn’t seem likely in this weather, we’ll not have any problem as long as we stay focused on the Loggerhead lighthouse which rises 150 feet above the small strip of land. The wind is still strong and coming out of the south, which requires us to paddle harder than normal.
About a quarter way to the island, my sister complains of her hands hurting and decides to go back to Garden Key. We were told that on a calm day it’d take an hour to paddle to the island and generally two hours to paddle back. My dad and I keep paddling. It takes us almost an hour to paddle the three miles to Loggerhead, but that’s with a strong wind coming in at an angle, creating some swell. There, we’re met with two guys who took the dingy from their sailboat to the island to snorkel, along with the volunteer lighthouse tender. He has volunteered to stay on the island and watch over those who visit for a month. The park service provides him a home with electricity (they have huge panels of solar cells). He checks in with visitors (he provided us with tips on where to snorkel), and operates a water desalination system that provides water to rangers in the Tortugas. He’s responsible for his own food.
We walk across the island and snorkel on the west side. He points out some places to check out and we are blessed with seeing huge growths of brain coral along with large aquatic plants. I love the huge purple sea fans that half my size. I see plenty of fish: angelfish, butterflyfish, a variety of snapper and grouper, the seemingly ubiquitous “Sergeant Majors”, and several large barracuda. Hiding inside hollow parts of the coral are long-spined sea urchin. After an hour and a half of snorkeling (my dad gave it up much earlier), I join him on the beach for lunch (Vienna sausage, cheese and crackers, a pear, and plenty of water). After lunch, I go back out and snorkel for another 40 minutes or so, before packing up and heading across the island to our kayaks.
Barracuda
We leave at 1 PM. The wind has calmed and the paddle back is easy. We don’t rush it and find it only takes us a little over an hour and fifteen minutes, well less than the two hours we were told to expect. We make it back in time to buy some ice and ice cream on the ferry (it leaves at 2:45 PM). After resting, I join my sister with snorkeling around the fort. The wind begins to die and the sound of the flapping tarp is replaced by the squawk of the terns a few hundred yards to our east. We enjoy steak for dinner (they were frozen when we left but has since thawed), and steamed cauliflower that I’d brought from my garden. I am sure I’m the only person on this key eating homegrown cauliflower.
Inside Fort Jefferson
I spend some time in the late afternoon and evening inside the fort, finding a shady spot, where I read and journal. It’s been a long day and shortly after sunset, I’m in bed. There is no wind and it’s warm. I lay on top of my sleeping bag and fall asleep.
Nature calls at 5 AM, and I crawl out of my tent to take care of business. The ground is soaked with a heavy dew. As I look up at the morning stars. The summer constellations are out. They are not generally this bright due to light pollution, but without any artificial light, the sky is brilliant. I easily spot Scorpius. It’s much higher above the southern horizon than I am accustomed to seeing it. At higher latitude, the constellation is often only partly seen above the southern horizon. This morning, its pinchers are reaching out as if to grab Jupiter. To the left of the scorpion is the winged-horse archer, Sagittarius. Its arrow is drawn and aimed at the deadly cosmic insect. Mars and Saturn appear to be resting on its wings. I’m treated with three planets in close proximity within the morning sky. There is no wind, but there is no silence either. I don’t think any of the terns on Bush Key sleep as they’re still squawking. I crawl back into my tent and snooze for another hour.
Bush and Long Key from the ramparts of Fort Jefferson (they used to be three different islands, but they are now all connected)
My father, sister, and me, in front of the only entrance to Fort Jefferson
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
May 6, 2018
I John 4:1-6
A few weeks ago I preached on the first chapter of 1st John. I noted then that this a love letter written to a church of whom John cares deeply. Today we’re looking at Chapter 4, verses 1 through 6. These verses speak about the need of testing spirits and not believing all we hear. Within the letter this part stands between the end of the third chapter, where John gives one of his frequent encouragement for us to love one another, and the middle of the fourth chapter where John picks up again the topic of loving others. Yes, we’re to love one another (we get that, John), but we must also be careful to discern the truth.
As I emphasized in my last sermon on 1 John, one gets the sense there are those within the community John addresses who are trying to pull people away by false teachings about Jesus Christ. Hear this passage as I read 1 John 4:1-6 from The Message translation.
Some time in my first year in ministry, while serving a small church in Ellicottville, New York, I woke in a stupor between 3 and 4 o’clock in the morning. The room felt damp and cold, the type of cold that penetrates your bones. I laid flat on my back on the bed, and it seemed as if there were stalactites made of ice coming down from the ceiling and almost touching my skin. I couldn’t move, I couldn’t respond. I felt I was imprisoned in bed. It was dreadful. My heart raced and I panicked. It was as if I was in a cave, held by something terribly evil. Alone, I was single at the time, I felt trapped and in great danger. The only thing I could think of to do was to cry out, “Lord Jesus, help me.” As soon as I did, it all went away. I felt at peace and the room no longer felt damp and cold.
Was it a dream? Yeah, probably. But it was also very real. While experiencing this, I realized that the only way I could save myself was to call upon Jesus. That, in and of itself, is an important lesson. Calling on Jesus was all I could do. Otherwise those stalactites would impale me in bed. There’s evil in our world and it’s destructive as this dream illustrates.
One of the comforting truths about God is that the Almighty is both good and all powerful. If God wasn’t all powerful, calling upon Jesus would not have given me any relief. The good news is that even though evil exists, even though there are elements within the world that challenges God’s reign and strives to mislead us, God is more powerful. God’s in control. John clearly understood this which is why he doesn’t limit his discussion within the letter to the love of God and neighbor. The Beatles may have proclaimed that “all we need is love.” John would agree, partly. “Yes, we need love, but we also need a little discernment.”
In this passage, John seems most interested in countering false teachings about Jesus Christ. I read The Message version which deemphasizes the discernment of spirits and focuses on “God Talk.”[1]
As I said in my earlier sermon on this letter, it appears the church John addresses was being challenged by those advocating a heresy known as Docetism, which holds that Jesus only seemed to be human. In other words, Jesus wasn’t really a man; he was divine, but appeared to be a man and appeared to die on the cross. Now, I should say that those who have such beliefs about Jesus are often well intended. They think of themselves as having a “high Christology,” one that lifts Jesus up. And yes, we’re to lift Jesus up and worship him, but we understand that while Jesus is divine, he also became a man. Jesus became human, in order to both reach out to us, to share in our sorrows, as well as to atone for our sin.
So John tells his readers that they must not believe everything they hear. It’s good advice; my mother gave me the same advice when I was in kindergarten. I like the way Eugene Peterson, in The Message translates the first verse of this chapter: “Don’t believe everything you hear. Carefully weigh and examine what people tell you. Not everyone who talks about God comes from God. There are a lot of lying preachers out there.” Now, Eugene could have left out that last verse, but since he too is a preacher, we’ll let it slide. Besides, he and John are not just referring to clergy, but to anyone who talks or teaches or writes about God. We have to be careful how we discern what is right and noble and what is wrong and bad, lest we be misled. We live in world where we’re being bombarded with information at such a rapid level that we have a hard time discerning what is good and bad, right and wrong.
There’s a lot of questionable views out there that can problematic. The “Wealth or Prosperity Gospel”[2] which teaches that if you’re really good, have faith and, most importantly, tithe, God will materially bless you. (How’s that worked out over the centuries?) Teachers who put the emphasis on our actions and not on God’s grace are another example of those whom we should question what they say. And then there are those who ignore or contradict God’s word as if the 10 Commandments are the 10 Suggestions.
With the internet, we live in a world where it’s easy for people to get their message out, regardless of its validity. We hear a lot about fake news and while sometimes that charge is used as a red herring to discredit another’s position, we have to acknowledge there is a lot of bull out there that we come across. And, at least politically, it comes from all sides. We must understand that not every idea is good. Not everyone’s intentions are noble. There are those who will mislead us. Sometimes they may be misinformed, but often they are trying to get us to vote in a particular way, or get us to support a particular position, product or organization, or perhaps to drive up or down the price of a stock.
Buyer beware! This is a lesson the human race should have learned back in the garden when Eve had that little chat with the serpent. But the lesson hadn’t taken hold by John’s day, nor has it taken hold in ours.
There are two main points that John brings out here. First of all, to put this in the style of an English teacher instructing students on writing essays, “we must understand that misinformation abounds and we check our sources.” John’s concern is primarily in what people are saying about Jesus, so he tells his readers not to trust those who do not confess that Jesus has come in the flesh and is from God. Secondly, John reminds his readers that God has already won the victory for us and that God’s Spirit is stronger than any of the lesser spirits in the world—those from the antichrist—who are spreading misinformation about Christ.
John is mainly interested in Christology, what people believe about Jesus Christ. Do they believe that Jesus is both human and divine? In John’s day, it seems that some were erring on the side of divinity? Today, it seems as if the pendulum has swung and many folks instead of placing too much emphasis on Jesus’ humanity, deny his divinity. Both are wrong. Now, John is right in that we need to love others, including them, we just don’t need to follow them.
John’s advice here, not to believe everything we hear, is as useful today, if not more so than it was 2000 years ago. For not everything we hear is noble. Not everything is true. Not everything is good. We have to test the spirits, we have to test what we hear and discern if it is true and also good. Unfortunately, John doesn’t give us a lot of advice here on discernment.[3] His focus more narrow. He gives us a test as to whether or not a teaching about Jesus Christ is true. If such a teaching is true, it’ll assert that Jesus is God incarnate, which is a tension that we hold together, this notion that yes, Jesus is divine, but also yes, Jesus is human.
There are other places in Scripture where we can go to learn more about discernment. Jesus tells us to that we’ll know people by their fruits,[4] a teaching that presupposes the goal of evil to be death. If what one says and does brings life in the eternal sense, it’s true. If what one says and does brings destruction and death, it’s not true. In Galatians, Paul talks about the work of the flesh as opposed to the work of the Spirit in one’s life. God’s Spirit brings about love and joy, peace and patience and kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control.[5] Is the teaching true; is it life-affirming; does it result in better people? We need to ask such questions about that which we hear as well as our own beliefs. Remember that folk song that lifts up a simple truth, “They’ll know we are Christians by our love.”
Friends, we live in a tough world. It’s a world that wants to deny the Creator, the source of life. Hold fast to the truth that God so loves the world that in the life of Jesus Christ, he came to us as a man! That’s the truth; that’s the gospel; that’s what we’re to be about and what we proclaim at this table. Amen.
©2018
[1] The NRSV begins this passage, “Don’t believe every spirit. The King James and New International versions tend to follow the same path while paraphrases like The Living Bible and The Message emphasis what we hear from others.
[2] See https://www.thegospelcoalition.org/article/5-errors-of-the-prosperity-gospel/.
[3] Two books dealing with discernment: Thomas H. Green, S.J., Weeds Among the Wheat: Discernment: Where Prayer & Action Meet (Notre Dame, IN: Ave Maria Press, 1984) and Danny E. Morris & Charles M. Olsen, Discerning God’s Will Together: A Spiritual Practice for the Church (Bethesada, MD: Alban Institute, 1997.
[4] See Matthew 7:15-20 and John 15:1-6.
[5] Galatians 5:16-26. Quote from verses 22-23.
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
April 29, 2018
John 15:1-17
Have you ever asked yourself why we profess in the Apostles’ Creed to believe in the holy catholic church? “Didn’t we break away from the Catholics back in the Reformation?” Yes, in an institutional sense, we did. We are not part of the Roman Catholic (with a big C) Church. Furthermore, Presbyterians don’t believe that our particular institution has a corner on the religious market—we’re not the only “true church.” The “true church,” as John Calvin taught, is found “wherever the gospel is rightly preached and the sacraments administered.”[1] The word catholic (in the little “c”) does not refer to an institutional church, but to the church that is throughout the world, the church that is anywhere people come together in Jesus’ name.
Interestingly, while some people don’t like using the word catholic, thinking it makes us too much like the Romans, no one questions the use of the word “holy.” For me, that’s the troubling word. I’m sure all of us could give an example of the church acting in an unholy way. The church is made up of fallen, sinful folk. It’s far from being holy by most anyone’s standards. The word “holy” should need more explanation than “catholic.” Yes, we are holy, but not by what we do. We’re holy through our relationship to Jesus. It’s only through him that we can claim holiness! And we are!
Let’s now look at John 15. Here Jesus, on that night of his betrayal, discusses about the role of the church. Read John 15:1-17.
I’m sure many of you have read Shel Silverstein’s book, The Giving Tree. Considered a children’s story, it’s a parable for all ages. The story is about a tree’s relationship to a young boy who grows up. As a child, the boy plays under the tree and on her branches. As he grows up and needs money, the tree provides fruit that he can sell. As he grows older, she gives her branches for his house. And as he gets even older, she gives her trunk so that he builds a boat and sail far away. When he finally returns, he needs a place to sit, and the tree allows the boy, who is now an old man, to sit on her stump.[2] The story shows the graciousness of the tree and touts the benefits of sacrifice, for the tree is only happy when she is able to meet the needs of the boy. But there is a deeper meaning in the story, for the tree finds herself reduced to only a stump, having given all she could to satisfy a boy whose appetite could never be satisfied.
Jesus Christ is like that tree. He gave his all to us; as we’re reminded in this passage, Jesus as our friend was willing to lay down his life for us. But Jesus doesn’t tell us to be a tree. Instead, he describes the Christian life as being lived out on the vine. This is an interesting comparison, the differences between a tree and a vine. A tree, as in Silverstein’s story, stands alone. But as Christians, we’re not called to stand alone; we’re connected to one another which is why the vine is a more appropriate metaphor. Each branch of the vine must depend upon the vine itself for its life as it shoots out across the ground. We’re all connected to each other.
Jesus was probably thinking of grapes when he spoke about us being branches of a vine, but I wonder if Kudzu should be our metaphor. You know, the railroads brought kudzu over from Asia, a century or so ago, to help them maintain the banks alongside the tracks. It grows so fast you plant it by throwing the seeds as far as you can then running for your life. That’s the way the gospel should spread! Of course, unless you’re a goat, kudzu has no real useful fruit, so maybe we’re not to be like kudzu, gobbling up acres of land in a season. Instead, we’re to be like a grape vine that is tenderly cared for by the gardener as it matures.
Consider the grape. Its vine is gnarly and twisted, yet it is through the vine that the branches and leaves and fruit receive nourishment. One thing about the trunk of a vine is that it’s almost indestructible. You can cut it back, cut it down, but as long as there are some roots, it grows back even stronger (kind of like our Wax Myrtle). This should remind you and me of the eternal nature of God’s promises. The church has faced many difficulties in its history. There have been times the church has been pruned way back, and that may be what’s happening to the Western Church today. But the church always grows back stronger.
This morning I want to highlights three characteristics of our Christian life and faith that are apparent as we consider our life on the vine: openness, fellowship, and equality. Jesus tells us that we are not servants but friends because he has made known to us the Father. Our Christian faith is not to be shrouded in secrecy. Sure, we don’t know everything about God, but Jesus made known enough of God’s ways that we can find our way home, back to him. The knowledge of God which Jesus has shared with us is found in Scripture and is open for all people… As Jesus is open to us, we are to be open with God and one another about our struggles and pain. Only then do we make room for God’s help in our lives.
The second characteristic of the Christian life given in this passage is one of fellowship. The vine image shows our interconnectedness with each other through Jesus Christ. We are told to abide in his love and twice Jesus tells us in this passage to love one another. The church is about love! We are to love and respect and be in fellowship with each other. Yet, our love doesn’t stop with others who are on the vine; for our Savior tells us we must love and pray for our enemies[3] in the hope that they too will want to be grafted onto the vine. Love is essential for us to be a Christian. As individuals, we must constantly check our hearts to root out bitterness in order to be more loving.
The third characteristic of the Christian life is equality, which comes from the fact that we did not choose each other to make up a church, rather God chose us and put us together. God grafted us onto the vine for a reason. God chose us to bear fruit. In other words, God choses us to carry out the mission of Jesus Christ. Furthermore, our equality is grounded in the fact that Jesus doesn’t call us servants but friends. Since there is an equality in our relationship to Christ there should be an equality with our relationship with sisters and brothers of the faith. We must not look down on another, for our value isn’t in who we are, but in to whom we belong.
One of my favorite professors when I was in seminary was Dr. Douglas Hare. Doug died a few years ago, but before retirement to the woods of Maine, he was considered a leading scholar on the gospel of Matthew as well as the persecution of the church during the first two centuries of the Common Era. He wrote numerous books and articles on these topics. But there was something strange about him. Unlike most of his colleagues, he refused to allow students call him Dr. Hare or Professor Hare. He insisted on being called Doug and this was one of the passages he used to support his claim that we are all equal in the faith. “We may be at different places in our journey,” Doug said, “but in Christ we are all equal.” Unfortunately, Doug’s equality seemed to end on exam day…
Our equality in Christ is why I prefer to be called Jeff and often wonder who people are talking to when I hear Reverend Garrison or Doctor Garrison.
We may have different functions in the church, but we are all equal in the eyes of God and should be equal to one another. As I’ve pointed out many times, one of the great contributions of the Protestant Reformation is the “priesthood of all believers.” Everyone—man, woman and child—has access to God through Jesus Christ. For this reason the Protestant Church has no priestly office. Your prayers are just as good and effective as mine.
The “priesthood of all believers” impacts not only religious life, but also our political structures. The concept made democracy feasible. One historian described the beginning of the Protestant Reformation “as a protest against arbitrary, self-aggrandizing, hierarchical authority.”[4] The Reformers, especially the Swiss and Scots, wanted more local control.
The church is filled with folks like you and me who make up the “priesthood of believers.” The belief in the equality of all human beings in the eyes of God has the power to drive changes in both church and society. Jesus emptied himself making himself equal to us and calls us to accept others who believe in him as brothers and sisters. If we go back to that image of the vine, maybe we can now see how we are all connected together. And because of Jesus’ command to love one another, then we as the Christian family have responsibilities to each other.
I can’t faithfully discuss this passage without making some reference to judgment. Pruning plays an important role here, for those branches that are unproductive are cut away so that other more productive branches can grow and bear even more fruit. Judgment, we see, isn’t all bad from the perspective of new growth. It may hurt, but we have to be judged and to discard those things that keep us from Christ. Of course, judgment isn’t the main message here, the main message has to do with us living life on the vine, being nourished by Jesus Christ.
What does life on the vine look like? It’s a life filled with graciousness toward others. It’s a life of forgiveness. We acknowledge our own imperfections which are in need of purring, and because we know we’re not perfect, we don’t we expect others to be that way. Instead, we have a mellow heart, being willing to forgive. Secondly, we encourage one another to strive to do their best. We’re like members of an Olympic team who rejoice at a teammates achievements. Just as we’re cheered on by others who have gone before us, we’re to cheer on others running beside us. Finally, our lives are lived as we focus ourselves on the goal, on Christ.
I believe in the holy catholic church… The church is holy not because of us, but because of Christ. Friends, that’s good news! The church is catholic because it is universal, found throughout the world. And that, too, is good news and should give us hope. You are the church. We are the church and it’s only when we are together that we can abide with Christ on the vine. Amen.
©2018
[1] John Calvin, Institutes of the Christian Religion, IV.1.9.
[2] Shel Silverstein, The Giving Tree (New York: Harper and Row, 1964). For an interesting study of this story, see Susan Nelson Dunfee: Beyond Servanthood: Christian and the Liberation of Women (Latham: University Press of America 1989), 85-87.
[3] Matthew 5:44.
[4] Steven Ozment, Protestants: The Birth of a Revolution (New York, Doubleday, 1991), 19.
Marc A. Jolley, Safe at Home: A Memoir of God, Baseball, and Family (Macon, GA: Mercer University Press, 2005), 139 pages, a few photos.
This is a delightful book in which Jolley recalls childhood memories with his father on up to the time he became a father himself. Jolley links these life transitions together with his love of baseball and his growing faith. Like baseball with more strikeouts than home runs, Jolley’s story contains sadness along with joy. There’s the time he failed to make his high school team. Then there are the casualties experienced by those, like Jolley, on the sideline during a political battles between fundamentalists and more moderate members of his denomination (Southern Baptist). These were tough times to be in seminary as Jolley completes his MDiv and PhD. Jolley also deals with depression. Through it all, Jolley is supported by parents and wife. In the end, Jolley discovers that family is the medicine needed to help keep his depression under control.
As a white Southerner, I have never understood fellow Southerners who root for the Yankees. As a child, it was always St. Louis and then Atlanta, when the Braves moved there. The Yankees were despised. I recently learned this was also true of many African-Americans in the South (at least in the 50s). I would have thought they would have seen the Yankees as liberators (a good thing), but the New York Yankees was one of the last teams to integrate. Instead, African-Americans were drawn to the Dodgers, who brought up Jackie Robinson to break the color barrier in baseball.[1] That said, Jolley and his father were Yankee fans. He describes entering Yankee Stadium with his son to watch their first game with the details of an architect entering a cathedral. Reading about this trip, I was excited for him. I was almost as excited as I was three years ago when I saw my first game at Yankee Stadium. Like his son, a Diamondback fan who rooted against the Yankees, I attended a Yankee-Detroit cheering on the Tiger’s. Baseball has a way of bringing people together and providing a good time even though in my game it rained and the Tiger’s lost by 12 runs.
Jolley’s father’s love for the Yankees’ was tested when they pick up Reggie Jackson as a free agent. His father couldn’t stand Jackson saying he had no respect for one who bragged about himself and talked bad about others. But Jackson, Mr. October, backed up his loud mouth with homeruns. Sadly, Jolley was never able to attend a game at Yankee Stadium with his father. When he was able to take his own son, his father was in a nursing home. But his smiled and enjoyed the stories when he heard about the trip Jolley took with his son.
I also appreciated how Jolley wove in many of my favorite authors into his narrative. Will Campbell’s Glad River makes an appearance as he reflects on his father’s faith (even though he was never baptized). He quotes William Styron and credits him with getting through depression. Dante’s Divine Comedy makes an appearance as does W. P. Kinsella.’s classic, Shoeless Joe” upon which the movie “Field of Dreams was based.”
This is an enjoyable read and I highly recommend it. As Jolley points out in the quote below, there things baseball does better than the church in the disciple-making business:
I never learned to respect enemies at church. I learned a lot about hate and divisiveness at church. I learned nothing about a common goal, or a purpose. Not until much later did I ever figure church out. Playing baseball that year, I got a head start on what church was supposed to be. (Page 60)
[1] On race and team loyalty in at least one corner of the south, see Melton A. McLaurin, Separate Pasts: Growing Up White in the Segregated South (1987, Athens: UGA Press, 1998), 142-145,
Paddling Town Creek with my brother (late 70s)
Buck and Nancy were the youth group advisors at church during my Senior High years. They were both teachers. Buck, who’d done a stint with the Marine Corps as an officer in Vietnam, taught high school biology and Nancy taught in an elementary school. They were young and full of energy. We had a small youth program, a dozen or so students, but it was a tight knit group. We spent a weekend painting the youth room. The walls were blocked and we painted each block by hand: green, blue or yellow, in diagonal strips that ran up the walls. Then we went back and outline each block, painting the mortar black. When we were done, it was very psychedelic and very 70s! We met in that room every Sunday evening and once a year we’d take a weekend trip to Camp Kirkwood, which was always highlighted by a day-long canoe trip on the Black River.
The water was high and fast that early spring day in 1973. Or maybe it was late winter as the trees were still bare. Whenever we reached a bend in the river, water continue to flow straight, cutting through the swampy side of the river, making it difficult to navigate our canoes as the water pushed you out of the main channel. We struggled and paddled hard, especially at the bends and in the shoots through blow downs, where the force of water threatened to push us into trees that had fallen into the river. Buck and Nancy paddled up and down the line of canoes, offering suggestions and encouragement, trying to keep everyone together and dry. Most of the canoes had two paddlers, but there was one boat with three people. Billy, who always marched to his own drum and never worried about what others said about him, sat in the middle as Marge and Rosa paddled from the bow and stern. At one point, Buck was yelling for everyone to stop and Billy, thinking he would be helpful, reached up and grabbed a branch of a tree to hold the boat. His choice of branches wasn’t the best as it was rotted and a fell across the canoe. Luckily, they didn’t capsize. Seeing this large branch straddle the canoe, like out-riggers, gave us all a laugh. At lunch, on a high bluff overlooking a bend in the river, clouds began to come in and the temperature cooled. Buck hurried us on, saying we might be getting some rain. But it never did rain that day and by mid-afternoon, we were pulling our canoes out and loading them on the trailer for the trip back to Camp Kirkwood.
This was my first river canoe trip. I’d paddled a canoe on a lake at scout camp, but there was something about the river where every bend held new possibilities of seeing wildlife. The Black River gets its name from the dark water that’s stained by the tannin acid from the cypress and juniper that grow in the swamps around the river. Although I didn’t know it at the time, we’d canoed through swamps that contained some of the oldest trees in the Eastern United States. One tree there is over 1700 years old. But that didn’t matter, I was hooked. Not long after this trip, I began working at Wilson’s Supermarket and immediately started looking at canoes and saving some money. My dad suggested that before buying a new canoe I put an ad in the classified section of the Star News. It was a simple advertisement, “Wanted: A Canoe” and included our phone number. A few days later, while I was at school, a man from Southport called and left me a message. I called him back and in a day or two, my father drove me over to look at his Grumman Canoe. The man was moving and needed to sell it and offered it to me for $60. At this time, a new would have cost me nearly $400. I brought it and we tied it to the top of my father’s car and drove home, stopping along the way to buy paddles and life jackets. Over the next ten years, I got more than my money’s worth out of the canoe. That $60 investment was the best I’ve ever made as it provided me over a decade of explorations all over North Carolina, and into Tennessee and Virginia. But mostly I used it to paddle the black water swamps of Eastern North Carolina.
I was heartbroken in 1985, when I came home from the National Jamboree of the Boy Scouts of America to discover that during my absence, someone had stolen my canoe. However, the “replacement cost rider” on my insurance (partly due to a decade of high inflation) paid me significantly more than what I’d originally paid for the canoe and I upgraded to a Mad River ABS boat (which I still have).
Overnight fishing trip on the Black River, 1975 Photo by Donald McKenzie
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
Psalm 85
April 15, 2018
On this Sunday in which we celebrate our Scottish heritage, let me speak a bit about the Reformation in Scotland. Unlike the Swiss, German and English Reformations that were almost exclusively led by clergy, the leadership of the Scottish Reformation was mostly led by lay leaders within the church. Some of this filters down into the way the Presbyterians are governed to this day, with our emphasis on a church ran by elected elders.
While lay leaders carried out the Reformation, there were those like John Knox, who served as a mouthpiece for the reforms. He was a chaplain at St. Andrews and later a preacher in some of the more influential pulpits of Scotland. Knox may not have been a theologian in the ranks of Luther, Zwingli and Calvin for he only wrote a few minor tracts. Bur he was known his preaching. He was a firebrand who didn’t mind pointing the finger at those in need of correction.
Now, my beard is rather modest compared to the one Knox’s wore. Don’t worry, I don’t want one like his, for I’d be afraid I’d get it caught in an escalator or fan belt. That said, today I believe I can hold my own with Knox when it comes to pointing the finger. You’ve been warned. Watch out, especially those to my left. (In case you haven’t heard, I cut my left pointing finger on Friday and have 5 stitches in it, along with a huge bandage)
Our passage this morning is Psalm 85, a plea for the restoration of God’s favor. Read Psalm 85.
Robert Louis Stevenson’s classic novel, Kidnapped, is set a few years after the Scottish Jacobite Rebellion of 1745. In the story, the protagonist, David Balfour, has been “kidnapped.” This was arranged by his uncle who didn’t want him to cut into his inheritance. Balfour is locked up on the Covenant, a brig in Edinburgh harbor, bound for the American colonies. There, he’ll be sold as an indentured servant.
Aboard ship, Balfour befriends another passenger, Alan Breck Stewart, who was loyal to the Jacobite cause. Stewart is wanted by the English authorities who now control Scotland. Stewart is able to obtain Balfour released from his bondage. The ship upon which they travel is to make one more stop in Scotland before beginning the crossing of the Atlantic. Having sailed around the north of the country, they make their way through the Inner Hebrides, sailing around Iona and then head inland on the south side of the Isle of Mull. There, the ship strikes a reef and breaks up. Balfour and Stewart team up as they make their way across Mull and then across Scotland. It’s a dangerous time, with English Redcoats on the lookout.
As Balfour leaves the Isle of Mull on a ferry for the mainland, they spot a ship at anchor. At first Balfour fears it’s an English ship on the lookout for the French, who had supported the Scots in the revolt. But as they come closer, they hear the sound of moaning and melancholy songs as people are ferried to the ship. The ship is bound for the colonies, full of emigrants. “Those on board and those on shore were crying and lamenting one to another so as to pierce the heart,” writes Stevenson. They were leaving behind family and friends and their beloved homeland.[1]
Scotland’s history is filled of such accounts of people leaving and heading to other lands to seek their fortune. Scotland, in the early 18th Century, was one of the poorer areas of Europe and especially after the failure of the Jacobite rebellion, people fled. Then came the clearances, which in some ways can be compared to the Cherokee removal in our own country. Those who had lived for generations upon the land were forced off, many of whom headed to the Americas. Today, across the Highlands, you can see the ruins of cottages which once housed those driven off the land. Scotland is such a lovely country. It had to hurt to leave that beautiful land, not to mention their friends and family.
You might be wondering what this has to do with Psalm 85. There’s a parallel. Although the dating of this Psalm isn’t completely clear, the situation described fits the situation during or right after Israel’s exile in Babylon.[2] Here you had a nation proud its land of milk and honey, which had been given to them by their God. We see this pride in the first verse where they speak of God showing favor to the land. God restored the fortunes of Jacob who, if you remember had to flee to Egypt due to a famine. There, his descendants eventually became slaves. The Psalm looks back to a time when the people experienced God’s mercy. Likewise, those leaving Scotland could have called back happier days, before the loss at Culloden or before the clearances, when they were free to live on the land.
The Psalmist, who begins praising God, changes his tone in verse four. We quickly realize, as we read further, that things are not all pleasant for the Psalmist and his people. Something has happened. The situation is interpreted as the fallout from an angry God. The Psalmist and his people are in trouble. While he sees it as coming from a broken relationship with God, he knows only God can change things. God is the source of his salvation. In verse 6, he cries out for God to revive them if just for the purpose that they might rejoice and praise God. He knows that God is love and begs to experience, once again, that steadfast love.
There are things we might take to heart and learn in these opening two sections of the Psalm. The Psalmist knows he can call upon God because God has been faithful in the past. Having tasted God’s goodness reminds him that there is hope. The same is true for us. If we find ourselves struggling, remember back to a time when God was merciful and, in prayer, bring up how you felt then and ask God to intervene in the situation. Pray that the Almighty might once again let you enjoy the sweet taste of his mercy.
We know life is not always sunny. There are gray days, when we have to move on. There are stormy days in which we trudge. The people of Jerusalem had to move as they were sent into exile. And for those of us of Scottish ancestry, our forefathers and mothers had to leave behind the heather-covered crags and brave ocean storms as they sought a new life. When we find ourselves in turbulent waters it is good to remember what God did for us in the past. Recalling such grace reminds us that God will remain with us into the future.
If you look at this Psalm, you’ll see the divisions to which I refer. Verses 1-3 recall what God has done in the past. Verses 4-7 reminds us of the presence troubles for which we need God’s help. In verse 8, the Psalm takes another turn.
For a moment put yourself back in time, back before the coming of Christ. The Book of Psalms was the worship book of the Hebrew people. Imagine in worship, one group of the gathered (let’s say those to my right) reciting what God has done for them in the past. Then, those on the other side (to my left) cry out in response for deliverance from their current troubles. The liturgical breaks are easy to see in this Psalm. Now, the Psalm could have ended at verse 8, but we’d been left wondering what will happen. So it continues. An individual steps out from the gathered congregation in verse 8 and shouts: “Let me hear what God has to say.” In the next two verses, he expresses confidence that God will speak, that God will act.
This individual then, beginning with verse 10, provides a beautiful eschatological description of the world to come.[3] It’s a time when love and faith meet, when righteous and peace kiss, where faithfulness springs up from the ground like a fountain while righteousness looks down like the sun.
We need visions of hope like this today, with our complex problems. We long for peace in places like Syria, but we also realize that there is a justice issue. Peace can’t be brought by a tyrant gassing and killing his opposition with little regard to the death of children and innocent. That’s peace through elimination and it never works! Slalom, this Old Testament word translated as peace, is more than the absence of conflict. It’s a marriage of peace and justice, it requires harmony and righteousness. And we have such a vision in the closing verses of this Psalm.
The hope of salvation in this Psalm and within our faith is not in our abilities to wage war or to achieve great things. Our salvation can only come from God who chose us. If we depend on our own deeds of righteousness, we will be sadly disappointed. But if we place our hope in God, as revealed in Jesus Christ, we shall prevail and be given the strength to endure any hardship.
The Israelites endured hardships yet provided the setting for the birth of the Messiah. Our Scottish ancestors endured hardship yet many thrived in the New World.[4] We, too, will endure hardship, but God is faithful. One day all of us, all the elect, will enjoy the promise offered in this Psalm. Until then, we continue to trust. Amen.
©2018
[1] Robert Louis Stevenson, Kidnapped (1886: Oxford, UK: Oxford University Press, 2014), 97-98.
[2] While acknowledging the appeal of the Psalm as post-exile, Weiser makes the case that it could have been pre-exile. I suggest it could have also been during the exile. See Artur Weiser, The Psalms: Old Testament Library (Philadelphia: Westminster, 1962), 571-572 and http://seachurchesmedia.org/seachurches/wp-content/uploads/2014/07/Day-126-PSALMS-OF-THE-EXILE-Psalm-44-Psalm-74-Psalm-79-Psalm-80-Psalm-85-Psalm-89-Psalm-102-Psalm-106-Psalm-123-Psalm-137-September-19.pdf
[3] James L. Mays, Psalms: Interpretation, A Biblical Commentary for Teaching and Preaching (Louisville, KY: John Knox Press, 1994), 277.
[4] See Arthur Herman, How the Scots Invented the Modern World, (New York: Random House, 2001).
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
April 8, 2018
1 John 1:1-2:2
Today we’ll explore the opening of the 1st Letter of John. The letters of John have numerous similarities with the Gospel of John. Both begin talking about Jesus Christ as the eternal Word. As the Word, Jesus reveals God to us. Both use similar metaphors, such as connecting Jesus with light. He’s the light coming into the world, showing us the truth. This light shows us the right path but also exposes our flaws.
John did not write this letter just to give his reader a theological lesson. There’s something going on in the background that we don’t fully understand looking back from our perspective. You get a sense from reading this letter that people are leaving the fellowship. They are upset with what’s being taught and the way things are being done. As you’ll see in this letter, John thinks they’re wrong.
Some scholars believe those falling away from the fellowship may have been involved in an early church heretical movement known as Docetism, which comes from a Greek word meaning “to seem.”[1] Docetists believed Jesus Christ did not come in a real body, but only in a spirit form. Before the crucifixion, his spirit left his body. The doctrine refers to a belief that the humanity of Jesus was not real. Docetists saw Jesus as divine only; he only appeared human. According to them, Jesus was a divine being dressed up in human clothes, kind of like the Greek gods would sometimes do.[2] And if you remember those stories, when that happened, chaos erupted.
As people of faith, we believe that Jesus lived just like us. God became a human being in the life of Jesus, as a way to bridge the gap that exists between us and our Father in Heaven. Jesus came to show us how to live and how to get back on the wagon of eternal life. Let’s listen to this passage. 1st John 1:1-2:2
You know, being a teenager is tough. And one of the toughest parts about being a teenager is being in love. Perhaps it’s because life seemed fairly innocent then. Your feelings and the intensity of your relationships seem so strong at the time. There this strong desire to connect, but you don’t know what to do with all these feelings. And such love, as we know since most of us have been through it, seldom lasts. Sure, there are a few people who fall in love when they are in their early teen years, and live happily ever after. But for most of us, these early relationships fail after a matter of weeks or months.
My first real love was Cathy, a dark haired Italian girl, who sat in front of me in my sixth grade class at Bradley Creek Elementary School. She had gone to Catholic school through fifth grade. In the sixth, she made the jump over to public school. Her desk was in front of mine. I spent days gazing into her long straight hair that sometimes laid over the top of my desk. As we wrapped up the sixth grade and entered Roland Grice Jr. High, home of the Black Knights, the two of us were an “item.” We were inseparable for the next year, except of course for when her brothers were around. They were a couple years older and loved tormenting me.
One day, trying to act big and bad, I did something incredibly stupid. Cathy took offense and broke up with me. I was so devastated I drew upon all the literary skill I possessed as a 13 year old and wrote a letter to her to woo her back. I admitted mistakes and promised her the moon. We talked, but we never got back together. Soon, we went our separate ways. Summer break was just a few weeks away. The next year, due to the district’s realignment, she was in another school and we lost track of each other.
I’m sure some of you have had similar experiences in your own relationships, especially as a teenager. You may have even written letters from a broken heart.
John’s letter may have been written from a broken heart.[3] There seems to be grief in the opening paragraph. In the fifth verse John says, “We are writing these things so that our joy may be complete.” This expresses his sentiments. He’s concerned because there are those within the community of faith who have fallen away. They’re not holding close to the teachings of the Apostles. It breaks John’s heart. One of the strongest desires for us as human beings is a desire to be with others. When those we love and care about—whether a boyfriend, girlfriend, good friend, or someone we sit in the pews with—are no longer there, there’s a gaping hole in our hearts. How could John and his congregation feel joy without those they loved?
John writes out of concern. His letter is filled with examples of this love. He encourages the believers to have such love for one another. Jesus Christ showed us how to love and we’re to emulate it. When we are bound together in that love, we have joy. We don’t always have happiness, we may not always have all that we want or desire. But we can have joy when we know we are living as God would have us live.
“Restore to me the joy of thy salvation,” David prays in the 51st Psalm.[4] This is what John hopes will happen. Salvation is not just having a room reserved in heaven; salvation is about the restoration of relationships. John wants those who have fallen away to come back, and he wants those who are still part of the fellowship to stick together.
From the text we read this morning, the first four verses deal with John reminding his readers that they are witnesses to what God has done for them in Jesus Christ. Then, in verse 5, he shifts a little bit, and talks about the message of Christ, comparing it as in the Gospel of John to the coming of light. When we’re drawn into that light, our sins are exposed and we are therefore able to be cleansed and live in the light. But he warns, that if we long for the shadows, we deceive ourselves and others.
Three times in this passage, John begins, “If we say”, and goes on to expand upon a particular heresy or sin, which he refutes while continually offering the possibility of redemption. First, if we say we have fellowship, and we continue to walk in the darkness, we’re not doing what is true. But, if we walk in the light, we can be cleansed by the blood of Christ. Second, he says if we have no sin, we are deceiving ourselves, and we have no truth within us, but if we confess our sins, he who is faithful (Jesus Christ) will forgive and cleanse us. Thirdly, when we say we have not sinned, we’re making Christ into a liar, and his words are not in to us, but if anyone sins, we have an advocate.
John does not desire for people to sin, but he realizes sin is a reality in our world, and he wants to assure us of the redemption available through Jesus Christ. The possibility available from Jesus Christ through the confession of our sins and acceptance of his grace and love is that we’ll be forgiven. Christ has atoned for our sinfulness. Not only for our personal sins but for the sins of the world.
Expanding this thought about the reality of sin, John highlights the problem of hypocrisy. Hypocrisy is where our actions don’t jibe with our words. And sadly, at one time or another, all of us here, myself included, have been guilty. But it is a serious problem because it makes us, the church, look bad.
Thankfully, there’s Jesus who came to show us the way. John lifts up the purpose of Jesus Christ, who came as a human being, who was sinless, and who offered up his body on the cross to atone for all of our sins. Three things: the reality of sin, the danger of hypocrisy, both of which drag us down, and the redemption of Jesus Christ that lifts us up and offers us hope to get out of the hole we’ve dug for ourselves.
John reminds us that being good enough is not the goal. We can never be good enough. Instead of worrying ourselves to death about being good, John reminds us that Jesus has made us a good offer. Confess, step out into the light, and accept his grace, his forgiveness. If we do this, we don’t have to worry if we’re good enough. We can rejoice that in Jesus Christ, we’re righteous and are free to do God’s work in a way that will make the world a better place.
With the idea of us being freed to do God’s work, let me talk for a moment about Faith in Practice. I like the name of this group our congregation partners with for mission work: “Faith in Practice.” We don’t do mission work so that we can be good enough or to earn more brownie points to help us overcome all the demerits we have in God’s eyes. Instead, having been freed in Jesus Christ, we can support and participate such work out of gratitude for what God has done for us. Our mission efforts is a way we practice living out our faith.
When I was with Faith in Practice in February, I was with a team going out into the countryside. While the team did all kinds of medical check-ups including some procedures, much of the work they were doing was seeing patients who might need surgery, often provided by the surgery teams in Antigua.
On the second day in the village of Monjas, a small town in Southeastern Guatemala, a young woman of 17 came into the clinic. She looked as if she was going to give birth at any moment, but insisted she was not pregnant. Just looking at her, Dr. Aileen wasn’t so sure. She had her tested. To the physician’s surprise, she wasn’t pregnant. Then, because we had ultrasound equipment with us, the doctor was able to identify a huge fibroid growth in her uterus. This was a critical situation, for it was so large that if it ruptured, she would likely die before she could get treatment. As the doctor explained, in America it would have never got that far, that critical, without someone taking care of her. The staff of Faith in Practice made arrangements for her to be immediately taken to where she could have life-giving surgery. That’s the kind of things that can happen when people live out their faith. We’re not all gynecologists, but we all have gifts that we can use to make the world a better place. Your contributions and prayers helped save that young woman’s life.
John encourages us to act nobly. We’re to show our beliefs by what we do and how we act. Do we love one another, do we show the love of Jesus Christ? Of course, we’ll mess up now and then. But we don’t have to fret over it. God, through Jesus Christ, is a forgiving God. God desires us to live for Christ, and when we are united with Christ, we are cleansed to be a part of his community and to do his work in the world. Amen.
©2018
[1] As an example see Raymond E. Brown, The Epistles of John (New York: Doubleday, 1982, 57-58.
[2] Information on Docetism from Frances Young’s article “Docetism” in the Westminster Theological Dictionary, (Philadelphia: Westminster, 1983), 160.
[3] The idea that the letter is written from a broken heart comes from a sermon by Jana Childers on this passage, “That Our Joy May Be Complete.”
[4] Psalm 51:12. This Psalm is attributed to David after his affair with Bathsheba. In Psalm 51, the desire is for ones relationship to God be restored.
This week marks the fiftieth anniversary of Martin Luther King Jr’s assassination in Memphis, Tennessee. He was shot early in the evening of April 4th, 1968. In honor of the memory, I attended a Learning Center lecture held at First Presbyterian Church. The speaker was Dr. Robert Pratt. An African-American, he’s been a professor of history at the University of Georgia for the past thirty years and is about my age. He grew up in Virginia, raised by his grandparents in rural Essex County.
Dr. Pratt was ten years old when Dr. King died. He told the story about how, after dinner, his grandmother would go into her bedroom and watch TV while his grandfather retreated to the living room. Dr. Pratt normally sat on the edge of his grandmother’s bed and watched TV with her. On this night, the program they were watching was interrupted with the news that Dr. King had been shot. His grandmother cried. He went into the living room and asked if his grandfather had heard. He had and he was angry. The next day, he went to his segregated school. Instead of regular classes, everything was about Dr. King and what he’d been doing for his people. On their way home, his bus passed the white school and he wondered what those kids had spent their day doing.
This hit home. For the first three years of my schooling, we were in Virginia and I attended an all-white school. We lived in Petersburg. To this day I am amazed that when we left in the summer of 1966, to move to the North Carolina coast, I had no idea the city was 80% African American. It was that segregated. Not that North Carolina was all that much better, but there were a few African American students in the elementary school I attended there.
I don’t remember hearing about Martin Luther King Jr’s assassination on the night of April 4, 1968, but I must have. It just didn’t seem to have any effect on my life. I do remember the next morning, as we rode Bus #6 along Masonboro and Greenville Sound Loop Roads to Bradley Creek Elementary School. Some of my classmates joked about his death. It seemed insensitive, but my mind was on a Boy Scout camping trip. As soon as I got home from school that day, my mother drove me up to the church to meet up with other scouts in Troop 206. We were going to Holly Shelter Swamp for the weekend. My clothes and sleeping bag were packed up in a duffel bag which was thrown in the back of the scout trailer. We left town, and as the evening light waned, set up camp on bluff overlooking the Northeast Cape Fear River.
Our scoutmaster was a detective in the Sheriff’s Department. When we woke up the next morning, we learned he had been called back to duty that night. Somehow, in the days before cell phones, word had gotten to him that Wilmington was aflame. Another father took his place and we ran around in the woods and enjoyed our weekend, not really worrying about what was happening at home.
We came back into town on Sunday afternoon and the streets were empty. There was a county-wide curfew, even though the rioting was mostly in the inner-city areas. We were taken to our homes, where we stayed for the next week as schools shut down. That afternoon, there was a cookout at our house with neighbors. The man next door was espousing his racial views on what they should do to calm the city. He talked about an event unfamiliar to me and how, in 1898, the whites in the city rose up and put the blacks in their place and that the river ran red from blood. No one else spoke. My father quickly changed topics.
I would later learn more about the Wilmington Massacre. Around the 100th anniversary, in 1998, there were a number of books published about it. The atrocity reminds us of how inhumane we can be to one another. Thinking back on this as an adult, I realized how this event, which had been whitewashed from the city’s history, was still fresh in the minds of the African-American community. It had only been seventy years. As big of a deal as white Southerners were still making about the Civil War, this was much more recent. There must have been old men and women still alive in the black community who had experienced the terror of this event in their childhood. While I can’t condone the violence that broke out after Dr. King’s death, I can understand the rage.
In the questions following Dr. Pratt’s lecture, he was asked if racial issues of our nation will ever go away. His answer was that there would be no complete reconciliation until we all see by the same lens. Humbly following in faith the teachings of Jesus of how we love one another, and of Paul about how we are all the same in Jesus Christ, is a good starting part.
For books about the 1898 atrocity, click here.
Leon Prather, Sr., “We Have Taken a City”: The Wilmington Racial Massacre and the Coup of 1898 (1984, Southport, NC: Dram Tree Books, 2006), 214 pages, black and white photos.
“Politics, the old cliche goes, “makes strange bedfellows.” This can be seen in North Carolina politics of the late 1890s, when Republicans (mostly African-American and carpetbaggers in the party of Lincoln) joined with white yeomen farmers and workers to vote out the conservative politicians (who were Democrats) to elect “fusion” candidates. This threatened the status quo. Fearing threatened, the conservatives played the race card in order to split the fragile alliances and bring poor whites back into the fold of the Democratic Party and under the control of the conservative establishment. Within the rhetoric of the era, Wilmington, North Carolina’s largest city at the time, erupted in racial violence. When it was over, the African-American community was in shambles. At the same time, the conservatives who were working behind the scenes and used the events to bring about the only armed-coup in United States history, removing from office those who had been elected and replacing them with their own people.
In the late 19th Century, Wilmington, North Carolina had an African-American middle class. The community had their own newspaper, edited by Alex Manly, a mixed race man whose father had been the governor of the state right before the Civil War. Responding to a public speech by a Rebecca Felton, a Georgian who’d spoken out about the threat of rape that white women faced by black men and called for a campaign of lynching, Manly not only condemned such crimes by blacks, but extended it to white men abusing black women. He mentioned his own history, as he was mixed race descendant of a slave of a former governor. Excerpts of Manly’s editorial began to circulate and reappear in newspapers across the country. The fallout from it led to the events of November 10th. On this day, a group of white “redshirts” marched on Manly’s newspaper and burned the building down. Then, tension rose as a white man was shot, which provided an excuse for armed white men began to more into the black community where they faced minor resistance. A number of men were killed and most of the black leaders were rounded up and exiled from the city. Also exiled were a number of white leaders who’d participated in the fusion government that controlled the city’s politics.
When the events were over, those who had means within the African-American community left town and the white conservative establishment was firmly entrenched. Prather suggests the number of deaths, while significant, were probably been exaggerated. No official count was made, but there would not have been enough deaths to have turned the mighty Cape Fear River red with blood, as some have claimed. His work suggests that the conservatives used the lower class whites to do their bidding in the riot, providing them with the excuse to step in and remove the mayor, city council and police from power. The haunting part of this story is the number of names still present within the community. One of the ironic twist is that the grandson of John Bellamy, one of the conspirators, was the Superintendent of Schools who desegregation of the schools in the city in the 1960s. Hugh McRae, another, had his name on the park where I played ball as a child.
Prather sets the riot in historical context, comparing it with other race riots in American history. This riot came on the heels of “America’s Splendid Little War,” The Spanish American War. However, Prather doesn’t see that playing a role even though he points out parallels to other wars and race riots.
One area that I would have liked to have seen more study is in the role religion and faith played. Prather notes the doctrine of white supremacy was being proclaimed in the same pulpits that told Christ’s story (102). But outside of mentioning four local clergy (the pastors of the Presbyterian, Baptist and Black Baptist Churches and the Catholic priest), Prather doesn’t explore this thread further. However, two sources he draws upon were the Baptist and Presbyterian state newspapers, both of which supported the white revolt. The title, “We Have Taken a City” comes from the sermon by Peyton Hoge (Presbyterian) on the following Sunday, but nothing is said about the sermon and his source for the title came from a newspaper article. Interestingly, Manly was also a Presbyterian, attending Chestnut Street Presbyterian, an African-American congregation.
The events in Wilmington have been portrayed in a couple of novels. Charles Chestnut, a black author from early in the 20th Century, wrote The Marrow of Tradition based on the Wilmington story. A more modern retelling of the story is Philip Gerard’s Cape Fear Rising. I recommend Gerard’s story. He’d planned to write the book within the Creative Non-fiction genre, but because he wasn’t sure of some of the events, changed it into a historical novel. Another great source of information that came out around the 100th anniversary of the event is Democracy Betrayed: The Wilmington Race Riot of 1898 and Its Legacy. This book is a collection of essays edited by David Cecelski and Timothy Tyson.
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
Revelation 5
April 1, 2018
I can’t stand before you this morning without at least acknowledging the day. Yes, it’s Easter. But it’s also April Fool’s Day. This day doesn’t fall on Easter often. The last time was the year before I was born. The next time, I’ll be retired. Don’t worry. I don’t have any jokes or tricks to play on you, but it does seem to me that God played the perfect joke on the Jesus’ executioners. I’m reminded of a short collections of lectures by Frederick Buechner titled, Telling the Truth: The Gospel as Tragedy, Comedy & Fairy Tale. Some might take offense at the title, but it makes sense. As tragedy, the gospel begins with the crucifixion. As comedy, the reversal from death to life fits the classic understanding. And as fairy tale, we have the extraordinary things that happen to Jesus and his followers down to this day.[1] Happy April Fool’s and may we continue to be surprised by God.
When I was a pastor in Southern Utah, there were two families I knew I would not see in church on Easter. Both were involved in the sheep business and when you have 1500 pregnant ewes, all delivering during a three or four week period in early spring, they were busy. They lived during these weeks at the birthing sheds. They needed to be there in order to help the animals. It was quite an operation to see so much new life as these lambs tried out their legs and nursed at their mom’s bellies.
Lambs and Easter seem to go together. You can find chocolate lambs. Some people roast lamb for Easter dinner. During this past season of Lent, we’ve been exploring throughout Scripture the theme of “the Lamb of God.” It’s interesting how, in scripture, God’s people are equated with lambs such as in the 23rd Psalm and in Jesus’ and Peter’s conversation at the end of John’s gospel. Jesus tells Peter to feed his lambs and sheep.[2] But it’s not only us who are seen metaphorically as lambs. As we’ve seen over the past six weeks, Jesus is also seen as taking on the role of a lamb, the sacrificial Passover lamb, providing life for God’s chosen people.
Today, this series on the Lamb of God will close with the vision that we have of the victorious lamb in the book of Revelation. The fourth and fifth chapters of Revelation are a vision into heavenly worship. The worship is focused on the throne and there are hymns sung in praise of the Almighty. This is an appropriate Easter theme for we see Jesus in his full glory. Having offered his life for the salvation of the world, he now rules as a lamb! Interestingly, the phrase “Lamb of God,” occurs 28 times in the Book of Revelation![3] Read Revelation 5:
The scroll is the focus of the fifth chapter. Sealed with seven seals, it contains God’s plan for the future. John discovers in his vision, which fills the sky, that there’s no one worthy enough to open it. John cries. Without opening the scroll (without moving into God’s future) the powers of evil that have thrown themselves against the godly and have persecuted the church will prevail.
John has this vision at a time the continued existence of the church is in question. Persecution threatens. John, himself, is exiled to a deserted rocky island because of his faith in Jesus Christ.[4] He’s lucky. He could have been killed. But there on those rocky shores with the sound of lapping waves, John has a vison that fills the sky. It’s a vision that reminds him and us that God will be victorious. It might not have looked that way when John was dumped out on this island. It didn’t look that way at daybreak on the first Easter when the women make their way to the tomb to prepare Jesus’ body for the grave. It may not look that way for some of us who are troubled. But God has a way of surprising us!
One of the elders standing near to God’s throne points out that there is, after all, one who can open the scroll. Time in Revelation is not neat and chronological as we like. At the point there was no one worthy probably refers to the time before Jesus’ death. Seeing the condition of humanity, God decides to rescue the world by entering the human sphere in the life of Jesus Christ. Now, moving back to after the resurrection, there is one person worthy.
Now notice the difference between the fifth and sixth verses. Do you catch the humor? In the fifth verse, John is told to look at the lion, but in the sixth he sees a lamb. He expects to see a raging lion who has conquered evil by brute force. Instead, we see a lamb that has been sacrificed. April Fools! God didn’t choose to conquered evil by physical strength; rather, God chose to submit to evil through Jesus’ death on the cross. This sacrificial act shows the limitation of evil’s power. Jesus’ resurrection conquers death and demonstrates evil impotence. “Victory through sacrifice” is the central theme of the New Testament revelation.[5]
It’s important for us to remember that when John witnesses this vision, the church is in mortal danger. John’s vision isn’t to go and tell his fellow Christians that everything is alright. They knew good and well that things are grim and if something doesn’t happen they will all be exterminated. What John’s vision does for his readers is to assure them that God is in control. In the end God, through Jesus Christ, will reign triumphantly over evil and death and destruction. There may be suffering and persecution here on earth, but in heaven, they’re already celebrating victory won over evil when Jesus rose from the grave.
The lamb envisioned in Revelation 5 is a little weird. Seven horns, seven eyes (and seven seals). This isn’t to be taken a literally as to how the resurrected Jesus looked. Seven in the Biblical world represents perfection and holiness, attributes assigned to Jesus.
So Jesus Christ, the lamb that has been sacrificed, takes the scroll. You can one artist rendition of this on the cover of our bulletin, where the lamb sits on a book with seven seals (in this photo, he’s lost the seven horns and eyes and the scroll has updated to a book). God’s plan is moving forward. Having defeated death on the cross, he sets out to free the universe of all evil. This causes song upon songs to rise throughout heaven. Christ, the Lamb of God, is praised. He inaugurates a new era.
Think about this for a minute… Christ has in his possession the scroll containing the future. But we are only in the fifth chapter of the book of Revelation. There are 17 more chapters. There are stories of galactic battles and martyrs to come; at this point Christ who has mortally defeated evil has not yet fully conquered it.
Evil is still present in the world. We know that. We’ve seen it in Parkland and in dozens of other shootings. We’ve seen it in Syria. We see it in our community, though thankfully the number of shootings are not as high as they were a few years ago. We also see evil in many places in the world where the church is still under threat. This past week a Christian man was beaten to death in Pakistan. Two weeks ago, Boko Haram, the horrible terrorist group in Nigeria returned all the girls kidnapped except the one who refused to deny her Christian faith.
We don’t understand why God allows such evil to happen in the world. The question of why, if God is all-powerful, God allows such evil, has been around for thousands of years. The rabbis debated this question in Jesus’ day. The book of Job was written in an attempt to help us wrestle with this problem, but we’re left with what many consider an unsatisfactory answer. In Job’s search, he encounters God, and comes away only with a sense that God is greater.[6] It’s impossible to fully understand the Creator. But we are to sing, for we know the future. We know what is happening and will happen. So we join the multitude singing praises and trusting in the goodness of a God who raised Jesus from the dead.
Think about the building of the choir in Revelation 5. The singing begins with the four living creatures who guard the throne and the twenty-four harp strumming elders who represent the twelve tribes of Israel and the twelve apostles of the New Testament. Their music inspires a multitude of angels to sing. And the angels inspire all creation to join in the song of praise. Doxology! “Praise God from whom all blessings flow!”
Now, was all of creation singing praises to God during John’s day? Of course not. As I said earlier, time in this chapter is somewhat transitory—moving quickly from before Christ’s victory over death to the complete fulfillment of God’s plan for creation. A fulfillment for which we are long. But we know the ending. We know who’s in charge.
Friends, like those in this vision, be filled with the songs of Easter. May they give us hope. Death is not the last word. Evil will not have the last word. Jesus rose from the grave; there’s a new world coming. Rejoice! Amen.
©2018
[1] Frederick Buechner, Telling the Truth: The Gospel as Tragedy, Comedy & Fairy Tale (San Francisco: HarpersCollins, 1977), 7.
[2] John 21:15-19.
[3] Robert L. Reymond, The Lamb of God: The Bible’s Unfolding Revelation of Sacrifice (Mentor, 2006), 103.
[4] John 1:9.
[5] Robert H. Mounce, The Book of Revelation, revised, (Grand Rapids: MI: Eerdmans, 1997), 132.
[6] Job 38-41.
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
1 Peter 1:13-25
March 25, 2018
We’ve done a survey of passages related to the Lamb of God within Scripture during this season of Lent. Starting in the Old Testaments, we saw how God called for and then provided sacrifices. Last week we moved into the New Testament, listening to John the Baptist pointing to Jesus as the sacrifice as he cried out “the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world.” In the book of Hebrews, the author claims Jesus as the ultimate sacrifice. There is no longer a need for another sacrifice.[1] Our text for today, is from First Peter. Peter reminds his readers that we’ve been ransomed from our prison of sin by the precious blood of Christ, who offered himself up as a lamb without defect or blemish.[2]
While our passage today shows, like all the other passages, that God provides the sacrifice, it’s also calls us to respond. As with the Hebrew people who were enslaved in Egypt, we are purchased for a price. Redemption isn’t cheap. It should cause us to be thankful and to live in a way that pleases God. Israel, once redeemed from slavery, was called to live as God’s chosen people. What’s our calling? Listen, as I read 1 Peter 1:13-25 in the Message translation. You can look at the text on the screen, but I also suggest you turn your Bible or the one in the pews to this passage so you can refer to it during the sermon. Text below: .
From that which I just read, what is our calling? Or maybe I should ask this. In verse 16, what does this passage tell us about God? (I am holy). And what does it say about our calling? (We be holy). Of course, when it comes to being holy due to our own efforts, we’re a little behind the curve and we’re not going to catch up. Thankfully we have Jesus.
You know, there is always a bit of irony about this day we observe as Palm Sunday. Those who were there when Jesus entered Jerusalem certainly had different ideas about who Jesus was and what he meant. They were ready to crown him king, but when he didn’t behave as they liked, they were all too willing to have him crucified. I’m not sure we’d be any different. We like people who support our own ideas about how things should be. When someone deviates from our preset ideas, we react with anger or walk away with indifference. We should remember that we can’t control God and if we walk away, we’re the ones who lose.
We should remember that there are differences between those of Peter’s world and our world. Peter’s audience were folks marginalized by the pressures of a pagan world.[4] In describing the precarious existence of Peter’s audience, one scholar suggests they understood that “Christians don’t have to fear their temporary masters [those here on earth] because they fear God.[5] Jesus says something very similar: “Do not fear those who can kill the body…, rather fear him that can destroy both the body and soul.”[6] But we’re not to have a nightmare-like fear of the Almighty. God loves us like a father.
I like how Peter describes our life as a journey, but he reminds us that it must be traveled with a consciousness of God. In other words, we need to keep an eye on Christ. And this day in which we focus on the passion of Jesus, we’re remind that Christ might not take us where we want to go. The human Jesus didn’t want to go to the cross, as he prays, “Father if it is your will, please take this cup from me.”[7] At the end of John’s gospel, Peter learns first-hand that if he wants to be faithful, there’ll be a point he’ll be taken to where he does not wish to go.[8] With God, we can’t control the future, instead we trust God to be with us through thick and thin.
Have you ever started out on a trip, only to experience a flat tire or a busted water pump? Or maybe you started a new job with great expectations only to be fired or to experience a medical challenge that kept you for fulfilling your duties. Or you start out with an idea of a long life with a loving spouse only to have him or her prematurely die. We’ve all experienced such setbacks and disappointments, some more bothersome than others. But they are not reasons for us to give up on the faith. After all, Jesus headed into Jerusalem and, to the disappointment of the crowd, allowed himself to be sacrificed like a lamb. With the crucifixion, many people’s dreams died.
But that’s where our faith really begins—with the death of the old dreams. We shouldn’t despair for with the resurrection, God shows his power over the forces of evil and death. With the resurrection, we have hope not only in this life but in the life to come. Let’s look at this passage.
“Roll up your sleeves,” our translation begins. We’re being issued a call to action. Get ready. Jesus is coming back. Get ready, but I don’t think the emphasis should be on Jesus’ return as much as it is living the life we’re called to live. Get ready, don’t be lazy, and pull yourselves out of those evil groves that you were caught in during the past. A more direct translation is “Do not be conformed to the desires you formerly had.” We have been called, as I emphasized earlier, by a holy God for the purpose of being holy.
Verse 17 reminds us that we can call upon God and God, as any good father, will help. But like a father, God also sets standards and will be upset when we live in a way that is unbecoming to being a follower of Jesus.
In the next paragraph, we’re reminded that God paid the price. There’s a consequence to sin, to disobeying our Creator. Back in the garden we’re told that disobedience leads to death![9] But we’ve been redeemed. Christ serves as the sacrificial lamb, his blood paying for our sin. According to Peter, this was a part of God’s plan all along. From the beginning, God planned a way for us to escape our bondage to sin and evil. Through the Son, we have a way open to life eternal. Because of what Jesus has done, we have a hopeful future.
After making the case as to why we have hope, Peter returns to how we should respond. We’re to love one another. We should remember that we are no longer living by the old ways, the ways of the world. We have been born again through God’s living word. Our new life is conceived by God himself. We’re now caught up in God’s word which is eternal. Everything else will pass away, as Peter quotes Isaiah, but the Word of God endures forever.
Christoph Friedrich Blumhardt was a German pastor and theologian in the early decades of the twentieth century. He isn’t well known, but had a great influence on Dietrich Bonhoeffer and Karl Barth (who are better known). In one of his sermons, which has been collected in a book titled Action in Waiting, he says:
We do not gain much by just accepting that Christ died and rose again. Many people believe this, but nevertheless go to hell. This belief is of no help unless you and I experience Jesus as Lord. It is not the worst if some people are unable to believe that Christ rose from the dead – at least they still regard it as something tremendous, too tremendous to glibly confess. The sad thing is that so many people today claim to believe it, and yet it means so little to them. It has no effect in their lives.[10]
I think Peter would agree with Pastor Blumhardt. What purpose is there in Christ’s sacrificial death if we live as if nothing has happened? God loves us as shown in giving of his only Son. This Friday, we should recall such love as we contemplate what our Savior did for us on the cross. It’s a wonderful gift that should cause us to respond with gratitude, love, and a new focus in our lives. No longer should we live for ourselves. We now live for our Lord. To him be the glory.
Next Sunday, I hope you join us at dawn and against at 10 AM, to praise the one to whom all glory belongs. Amen.
©2018
[1] Hebrews 10:1-18.
[2] 1 Peter 1:19, New Revised Standard Version.
[3] 1 Peter 1:13-25, The Message. (note, The Message doesn’t number verses).
[4] David L. Tiede, “An Easter Catechesis: The Lesson of 1 Peter,” Word & World (St. Paul, MN: Luther Northwest Seminary, 1984), 194.
[5] Tided, 197. Tiede quotes Gerald Krodel, “The First Letter of Peter,” Hebrews, James, 1 and 2 Peter, Jude, Revelation by Fuller, Sloyan, Krodel, Danker, & Fiorenza (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1974), 74.
[6] Matthew 10:28.
[7] Luke 22:42.
[8] John 21:18.
[9] Genesis 2:17.
[10] See https://www.plough.com/en/subscriptions/daily-dig/even/march/daily-dig-for-march-23.
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
John 1:29-37
March 18, 2018
We’ve been looking at Old Testament passages which provide a background for our understanding of “The Lamb of God” over the past month. We saw in Genesis how, at the near sacrifice of Isaac, God provided a sacrifice. It was a ram caught in a thicket. We also witnessed how God provided a way out of bondage in Egypt through the Passover, a meal in which a lamb was on the menu. Although I didn’t cover all the texts, I alluded to other passages, especially from Leviticus, where God speaks of the need for a sacrifice to remove the stain of sin.[1] The Bible is a gradual revelation leading up to a complete revelation with God’s incarnation in Jesus Christ. Last week, in Isaiah 53, we saw for the first time in Scripture, the link between a vicarious sacrifice and a person who offers himself up. Today, we’ll see that person is identified as Jesus. This is where the rubber meets the road. John the Baptist prepares to hand over his ministry to the one coming. And just how does John identify Jesus? We’ll see in a few minutes.
In the verses before this passage, a group of religious leaders from Jerusalem meet John the Baptist in Bethany for the purpose of checking him out. They wonder if he’s the Messiah. This he denies. “Are you Elijah?” Again, he denies it. “Who are you, then?” they press on. “I am the voice of one crying in the wilderness,” he replies, drawing on the words of Isaiah. “Well then, why are you baptizing?” At this point, John confesses that there’s one coming to whom he’s not even worthy to tie his shoes.[2] This one is Jesus Christ, whom in our reading this morning is identified as “The Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world.” Let’s look at the passage. Read John 1:29-37.
###
I think we all need to be more like John. Now that doesn’t mean we need to dress like a wild man, hanging out in a waist deep muddy river, and eating a disgusting diet of bugs slathered in honey.[3] But there are two things John does that we should also do. First of all, we should admit that on our own, there is a limit to what we can do to help someone. John’s fierce preaching encouraged people to examine themselves and to confess their sins. “The unexamined life is not worth living,” Socrates supposedly said and John would agree. We should examine our lives and, according to John, we won’t like what we see. Because of sin, we fall short of the glory God intention for us.[4] If we want to get better, we have to understand the problem. John’s kind of like the “dental monitor” in the Lifelock® commercial, he points out the problem, but he can’t fix it. (Not even Lifelock® can do that).[5]
John is a prophet, not a savior. He could symbolically wash away the problem in baptism, but he wasn’t able to wipe the slate clean. The same is true for us. We can’t wipe away our own sin. And if we can’t do that for ourselves, we certainly can’t wipe away the sin of another. So like John, we have to be humble and admit our limitations. Dealing with sin is God’s work.
But there is something we can do. While we can’t wipe the slate clean, Jesus can. John, in our opening verse, points to Jesus as “the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world.” Here is the answer for whom we and others desire. Like John, we can also point others to Jesus.
In our passage, we see that John has some unique insights into Jesus. Although Jesus comes after John, he was there before. As we learn in the beginning of John’s gospel, Jesus is equated with the word of God and was present with God from the very beginning of creation.[6] Throughout this entire chapter, John the author (we’re dealing with two different John’s here) wants us to understand that John the Baptizer is not the main character. That’s Jesus. John is just the guy who might run across the stage in a high school play, holding a cue card so the audience will know what’s next. The guy or gal, dressed in black and holding the prop isn’t the star, just one to point out what’s getting ready to happen. Likewise, John lets us know what coming.
John goes on to explain that he knew Jesus was the one when he saw the Spirit of God descend like a dove and land upon him. Although John’s gospel doesn’t mention Jesus’ baptism, this statement parallels what all the other gospels say about Jesus at his baptism, that the “Spirit descended like a dove.”[7] John is here to testify that Jesus is God’s son.
Referring to Jesus as the Lamb of God, John informs us as to the identity of the suffering servant in Isaiah 53, the one who was afflicted with our sin and willing to offer his life as a way to pay for our sin.[8] It’s important to notice that the word sin is singular, not plural. Jesus is coming to take away not just the effects of our disobedience (our sins) but to cut away the root of the problem, (sin). It’s not just our bad deeds, but the gulf that our rebellion against God has cause to separate us from the Almighty. Our sin has been purged—the chasm between the creature and creator that has existed since the Garden of Eden, has been removed.[9] Jesus Christ is the bridge that reconnects us to God the Father.
Another interesting choice of words here is how John implies that Jesus is and will continue to take away the sin of the world. This ongoing action is not just limited to the cross (which is three years away from the time John proclaimed Jesus as the Lamb of God). Anytime someone comes into an experience with Jesus and feel their guilt and sin removed, they experience this ongoing work of our Savior and Lord.[10]
Twice in our reading John points out to those around him that Jesus is the Lamb of God. In verse 35, John again makes this claim. While pointing out Jesus as the Lamb of God, we’re told that two of John’s disciples leave to follow Jesus. Like John, we’re not on the earth to make disciples for ourselves. We’re here to do God’s work which involves making disciples for Jesus.
John’s message is simple. He points to Jesus, the Lamb of God. The Apostle Paul will later take a similar tack when he says that he preaches that he knows nothing but Christ and him crucified.[11] That’s my message, that’s our message, the church’s message. For answers, we can only point to Christ as God’s hope for the world. He is the one who can lead us from bondage and offer us life, eternal life.
There are two things we should learn and emulate from John. Like him, we are to be humble. We are not here to be Saviors. We’re to be willing to point others to the Savior of the world, to Jesus Christ, and give him all the credit. But you know, that’s hard to do. We want to be given credit for that which we do. We want to be paid our fair share.[12] But that’s not what being a follower of Jesus is about. We’re to point to the one who is willing to offer his life for ours. He is to be given credit for all our blessings; for he, the one who was there at the very beginning,[13] is the source of our blessings.
So let’s be willing to go out into the world and do good. When someone praises us, let’s not let it go to our head. Instead, point to Jesus and give him the credit. And when someone asks why our values are different that the world, why we insist on being honest, being fair, or standing up for those oppressed. Point to Jesus and give him the credit. We do it for him. And when someone questions our commitment to gather week after week for worship. There’s no need for excuses. Instead, we tell them what Jesus means for us. There’s no need to brag. As a theologian once said, “Evangelism is just one beggar telling another where to find bread. Like John, we’re point to the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world. Amen.
©2018
[1] See especially Leviticus 16.
[2] John 1:19-28.
[3] While the Gospel of John doesn’t provide this insight, two of the synoptic gospels make a big deal out of John’s dress (animal skins with a leather belt) and his food (locust and wild honey). Matthew 3:4 and Mark 1:6
[4] Romans 3:23.
[5] https://www.ispot.tv/ad/wgXM/lifelock-dentist
[6] John 1:3.
[7] Matthew 3:16, Mark 1:10 and Luke 3:22.
[8] Frederick Dale Bruner, The Gospel of John: A Commentary (Grand Rapids, Eerdmans, 2012), 83-84.
[9] Bruner, 81.
[10] See Bruner, 82.
[11] 1 Corinthians 2:2. See also Bruner, 100-101.
[12] See Matthew 20:1-16.
[13] John 1:2-4.
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
Isaiah 53
March 11, 2018
In Genesis, we learn that the consequence of sin and disobedience of God is death.[1] In the last two weeks, we’ve look at the scripture passages dealing with the Passover and the near-sacrifice of Isaac. In both situations, we see God providing a way out of the situation. While in bondage in Egypt, God tells the Hebrew people how to avoid the angel of death by putting the blood of a lamb over their doorways. With Abraham, God ultimately does not demand the sacrifice of Isaac, but provides a ram as a sacrifice. In passages we’ve not looked at, such as those in Leviticus, we learn God even provided a way in which sinful humanity could atone for their sins through the sacrifice of animals and the use of a “scapegoat.”[2] You know that term comes from scripture, don’t you? Originally, the scapegoat was to take away the sins of the people, not just cover up our own misdeeds as the term is often used today.
In the continuing revelation of God in Scripture, we move from the need of a sacrifice to ultimately understanding that Jesus has, once and for all, made the necessary sacrifice on our behalf.[3] Today, we’re looking at Isaiah 53, in which find for the first time in Scripture, a person serving as the sacrifice for others.[4]
Our reading is from what’s known as the Fourth Suffering Servant passage in Isaiah. The passage actually begins back at Isaiah 52:12.These suffering servant passages have been debated over the centuries. Jewish interpreters see the passage as applying to the suffering of Israel. Christian interpreters understand this passage as applying to Jesus. This interpretation goes back to Philip, in the book of Acts, who encounters the Ethiopian eunuch reading this passage and asking for help in understanding it. Philip leads him to see that this passage is about Jesus, who died for our sin.[5] Today, I’m going to read this passage in its entirety, from Isaiah 52:13 through chapter 53.
What are your thoughts about vicarious suffering? Should someone else suffer for our sins and misdeeds? Should we be willing to be punished for the misdeeds of others? What do you think?
Maximilian Kolbe, a Polish Franciscan priest provides an example of such suffering. Early in 1941, he was arrested by the Nazi’s for publishing unapproved literature and sentenced to hard labor. He was sent to a concentration camp, Auschwitz. That August, a prisoner escaped. As was the German policy, they took ten men out of the barrack from which the escaped prisoner was housed to be punished. The ten were to be placed in a starvation chamber where they would be left till they died. One of the men who was selected cried out about his family and not seeing his children again. Kolbe volunteer to take his place. For two weeks, he suffered with the other nine. At this point, only four of the men were still alive and the Germans, needing the chamber again, finished off the four with an injection of acid into their veins. Kolbe was one of those alive and he held out his arm to his executioner to receive the injection.[6]
What causes someone to willingly give up their life for someone else? We know it happens. Many of us, if provided the opportunity, would be willing to risk our lives for other. In the excitement of a moment, we might run into a burning building or dive into cold swift water to save someone. When situations arise, there are people willing to risk it all for a stranger. Parents are known to go to great lengths to save their children, and in times of famine there are stories of parents forgoing nourishment so their children survive. In most wars, there are examples of those who jump on grenades to save their friends, or who volunteer for suicide missions in order to give their unit a chance to survive. 
In the movie, “Saving Private Ryan,” the main character is sent on a mission to find a paratrooper whose three brothers had been killed in the previous days’ battles on D-Day and in the Pacific. Captain John Miller, played by Tom Hanks, is sent to find and keep Ryan safe so that his mother won’t lose all her sons. Miller, as well as many of his men, die in their efforts, which leads Ryan to ask his wife fifty years later if he had earned their sacrifice. That’s an awful burden to carry, the feeling that we must earn the sacrifice of another.
Our passage this morning speaks of one who carries our burdens, our sins. As I noted before reading this passage, up until this point in Scripture, God allows a way out of sin through the offering of sacrifices. But now, through the prophet Isaiah, we learn of another way. It is easy to see why those after Jesus’ death and resurrection were drawn to this passage. This is a popular passage to read on Good Fridays.
The suffering servant is filled with God’s saving power, but with human characteristics, he’s so meek we might overlook him. He’s innocent, yet willingly and obediently suffers. Jesus is God who has come in the flesh. He comes, not as a king born in a palace but as a child to parents who have no other place to place him but in a manger.[7] Although Jesus trembles before his Father on the night before his death and asks if this cup might be removed, he’s obedient and affirms his Heavenly father’s will.[8] There are so many parallels between this passage and Jesus’ life and death.
The suffering described by Isaiah also parallel’s Jesus’ suffering. He doesn’t complain to his executioners. His suffering is great because he is innocent and it’s our sins that he bears. Like Jesus, the sufferer described by Isaiah dies with the wicked and then is buried in a tomb of the rich.[9] He becomes an offering for sin, and will make many righteous (or as we might, many will be washed in his blood). As we’ll see in the next three weeks, as I continue this exploration of the “Lamb of God’ theme, through Jesus Christ, God has provided us a way out of our bondage, God has given us a sacrifice that is above all others.
Now, there are many passages in Scripture where I can say, this means we should do this. But this is not a passage about what we do, it’s a passage about what God does for us. The one who suffers on our behalf is done, not because of something we’ve do, but through the grace of God. God loves us so much that he has constantly, since our first sin, tried to draw us back to himself. That’s love; that’s grace.
Back to the question I asked earlier… What do you think about someone suffering vicariously for another? Do you think it is right or just? Regardless, if we accept Jesus, we are accepting his offer of suffering for our sin. Can we handle that? Can we admit that we can’t save ourselves need a Savior? Can we accept that what’s important isn’t what we do, it’s what God does for us? Can we humble ourselves that much?
The question is not what we must do to obtain such grace, but how we respond to such grace. God has been so good to us, not only in creation, but also in our redemption. Can we receive what God has done for us through Christ in humble gratitude and then, with gracious hearts, seek to follow Jesus. And knowing that our eternal security is in what Christ, we can live fearlessly in this life, willing to offer ourselves for the life of another.[10]
Our eternal security is grounded, not in what we do, but in the grace of our Savior. Those of us who follow Jesus should be fearless in the face of suffering and death. We know we’re in Gods’ hands. No one can take that away from us.[11] Amen.
©2018
[1] Genesis 2:15-17. See also Genesis 3. Paul drives this point home in Romans 6:23.
[2] See Leviticus 16.
[3] 1 Peter 1:19, Hebrews 9:11-14, 28.
[4] Robert L. Reymond, The Lamb of God: The Bible’s Unfolding Revelation of Sacrifice (Scotland: Mentor, 2006), 69.
[5] Acts 8:26-25.
[6] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Maximilian_Kolbe
[7] Luke 2:7.
[8] Luke 22:39ff.
[9] Jesus is crucified between two criminals and is given the tomb of a wealthy man. Luke 23:32, 50-53
[10] John 15:13.
[11] See Luke 12:5.
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
Genesis 22:1-14
March 4, 2018
Last week, I began a series of Lenten Sermons focusing on the theme, “Lamb of God.” This series will continue through Easter, when we meet the resurrected and victorious lamb as described in Revelation. Having not been in the pulpit the first Sunday of Lent (as I was with Faith in Practice in Guatemala), I skipped over Genesis and began the series looking at the Passover. But as I was writing the sermon at the end of last week, there was something gnawing at me about having skipped over an important passage in Genesis, known as the sacrifice of Isaac. As you know, in the end Isaac wasn’t sacrificed, but what happened there sets the stage for all that comes afterwards. God provides. That’s the message of the Lamb of God visions found throughout Scripture.
In a way, this is a horrific passage. I’m sure we all have a problem picturing ourselves as Abraham in this story. But the point of the passage, I believe, is not just Abraham’s faithfulness, perhaps reluctant but willing to carry out God’s commands. What’s important is that God provides. Let’s pray before listening to this passage.
Almighty God, we know the world and all that is in it is yours. And we know that you’re a loving God. Which is why we struggle with passages of scripture such as this one. Open our hearts, our minds, and our ears, that you might speak to us this morning. Amen.
In Frederick Buechner’s novel, Son of Laughter, which is about Jacob’s life, there is a part of the book where Jacob recalls his father Isaac, whose name means laughter, tell him about this event. In telling of it, he relives it. There is no laughter in the old man voice as he recalls how his father has haul him and a load of wood, along with a knife and a cup of coals from the morning fire, up to the mountain. Just telling the story is a torment to Isaac, who remembers how he allows his father to tie him up and place him on the make-shift altar and how the old man’s hands trembles as he raised the knife.[1]
There is always a danger of trying to force our understandings into that of the Biblical world. Things have changed. Abraham didn’t even have the Torah, the Books of Moses, to guide him. Even those who came after Moses still didn’t have the benefit of Jesus, who helps us see more clearly who God is and what God is up to. And even with the New Testament, our situation in the world is different. No longer is the church a persecuted minority within the indifferent and sometimes hostile world of the Romans. That being said, one of the goals of Bible Study and Biblical scholarship is to take us back into the world in which the text was conceived. To look at what the text meant to those who first heard it, and only when we understand that should we attempt to apply it to our world.
Perhaps no text demands such treatment as the one we’ve just heard. From our point-of-view, this is a horrific text. Would God really want Abraham, an old man, to sacrifice his only son, the son he loves (notice how the narrator underscores Abraham’s devotion to his son). Would God, who promised Abraham a great nation descending from Isaac, really want to knock off the heir? It goes without saying that the world in which Abraham roamed was different from ours. But let’s consider this story.
This is a story that had been told and retold in oral traditions for centuries before he was written down. The story is highly polished and very simple.[2] We’re not given Abraham’s thoughts while he was trudging up the mountain, or what Isaac thought when his dad tied him down and lifted him upon the wood. “All we want are the facts, Ma’am,” as Sgt. Friday would say. And that’s all we get here.
But Abraham’s mind must have been spinning.[3] Decades earlier, God called him. He gave up his past and an opportunity for a nice comfortable retirement in Ur for the life of wandering.[4] He’d given his past up for God, now God asks for his future. This child, who unknowingly hauls wood on his back up the mountain, is all Abraham has. In him, the old man has placed his hope that his descendants will be a great nation. And now God asks even that from him. Think about Jesus’ commands.[5] God demands our ultimate allegiance. Now this doesn’t mean God is might want us to do something as cruel as the story we have here, and I’ll come back to that. But ultimately, our allegiance doesn’t belong to ourselves, to our families, to our political party, to our country, or to our favorite baseball team. God comes first! God comes before all our petty loyalties of this world.
In the world in which Abraham lived, it wasn’t uncommon for people to believe that they should give god their best. We speak that language today, but in the ancient world, where children and the best animals were sacrificed, giving your best meant something more
As a kid, I remember being told that we were to give our best to God which meant being nice, placing the first-fruit of my puny allowance in the offering plate and wearing my “Sunday best” to church—which included a clip-on tie. I hated those ties. You had to button the top button of your shirt for it to hold. I quickly learned how to tie a tie so I wouldn’t have to wear the clip-on and could leave my top button open. But being nice, plopping a quarter in the offering plate, and sporting a clip-on tie doesn’t compare to what these folks were willing to give up to gain the favor of a pagan god.
This story, going back to when it was first told around a campfire on a desert night, explains several things. We learn the importance of the site of Moriah, which is later identified as the temple mount in Jerusalem.[6] This event makes that holy ground. They also discovered why their God doesn’t make the same demands as the gods of their neighbors were making. The Almighty, the God of Israel, the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, doesn’t expect that we offer the life of another to satisfy his demands. Finally, they learn of the ultimate freedom of their God. This is a God we cannot control or contain, yet a God that demands obedience. And this God is loving and provides us with the means to fulfill his commands.[7]
God tests Abraham, and he’s willing to do what God asked,. God becomes not only the one who asks for the sacrifice, God provides for the sacrifice in the ram caught in the bushes. A god (with a little g) who can command your first-born may seem to be powerful, but such a god is not nearly as powerful as the God who supplies the sacrifice.
We’re back to this Lamb of God image in scripture, where we see over and over again, God provides. Do we trust God to provide for our needs? Do we accept that God is over our lives and our world? Do we trust God even when all seems to be lost, as Abraham did when he climbed the mountain with Isaac?
Let me make one thing clear. While Abraham is commended for being willing to obey God, the text isn’t just about listening and obeying God. I want to make this point clear. There are many people who think they hear God tell them to do some weird stuff. Such people often end up on the front page of the newspaper. Or their portraits hang in the Post Office.
You have to consider that this story came from a long-gone era. We know more about God and about God’s intent for us than Abraham did. Two thousand years of revelation has given us new insights as has an additional two thousand years of interpretation. You can’t use this story as proof that God demands you to sacrifice someone.
Abraham’s world was different world from ours. He didn’t know what we know. He didn’t have the scriptures. He didn’t have the laws that were given through Moses that are pretty explicit, “thou shall not kill.”[8] He didn’t have the Old Testament where child sacrifice was considered an abomination.[9] He didn’t know of Jesus who would call the children to come to him.[10] He didn’t have the insight from the Book of Hebrews in the New Testament that reminds us that Christ is the perfect sacrifice and the only one required.[11] If we think God is talking to us, we need to be careful. If what we hear doesn’t stand up to what God says in Scripture in the entirety of scripture, we need to reconsider if it is God’s Spirit. In the first letter of John, we’re warned that not all spirits are from God and we must be careful to discern for something demonic may be speaking to us.[12] If you think God is calling you to do something that goes against what is in the Bible, think again! Or come talk to me!
So I hope you look at this text a little differently. Instead of it being a horrific text about a sadistic God demanding the sacrifice of an innocent boy, think of it as part of God’s ongoing revelation. Yes, we learn the hard truth that God is free. Following God faithfully can lead to anguish struggles. But we also learn why Israel didn’t participate in the sacrifices of her neighbors and that their God loved them enough to provide them what they needed. And that’s good news!
©2018
[1] Frederick Buechner, Son of Laughter, (New York: HarpersCollins, 1993), 9-20.
[2] Gerhard Von Rad, Genesis: Revised Edition, (Philadelphia: Westminster, 1972), 238. See also Hermann Gunkel, The Legends of Genesis: The Biblical Saga & History, (1901, New York: Stocken Books, 1964), 106.
[3] There are some scholars who said that Abraham believed that God would either spare or resurrect Isaac. I think this destroys the tension in the text and also, how could Abraham had conceived of the idea of a resurrection? See Robert L. Reymond, The Lamb of God: The Bible’s Unfolding Revelation of Sacrifice (Scotland: Christian Focus Publications, 2006).
[4] See Genesis 12.
[5] As an example: Matthew 8:18-22 and 10:37.
[6] See 2 Samuel 24:18-25, 2 Chronicles 3:1.
[7] See Walter Brueggemann, Genesis (Atlanta: John Knox Press, 1982), 185ff.
[8] See Exodus 20:13, Deuteronomy 5:17.
[9] For example see Leviticus 18:21, 20:2-5; Deuteronomy 12:31, 2 Chronicles 28:3.
[10] Matthew 19:13, 15, Mark 10:13-16, Luke 18:15-17.
[11] See Hebrews 10:1-14.
[12] See 1 John 4:1-4.
Brennen Arkins, The Magic Kings (2015), 259 pages.
The transition from elementary to middle school is a tough time for all students. For Alan and his classmates, it is made more uncertain by the 911 terrorist attacks that occurs at the beginning of their last year of elementary school. Alan’s life is filled with challenges. He’s being raised by a single mother. His father died when he was much younger. He’s now slowly coming to a realization of what it means to have a mother that is an alcoholic. Arkins tells this story through the eyes of Alan. As a pre-teen kid, there are a lot of things he does not clearly understand. Like Alan, the reader is slowly provided clues. Alan understands his mother is having problem with her former boyfriend, Art, who seems to be a good male role model for Alan. It appears Art and Alan’s mother both have issues with alcohol and even though they break up, Art helps her become involved with Alcoholics Anonymous.
As an escape from the confusing world of adults, Alan and his best friend Zak play in a fantasy world. Yet, they sense things are coming to an end (this will be their last year to “trick-or-treat” so they decide to make the best of it). But while they sense things are ending, they are excited about the fantasy world in which they create. They find a special spot on the other side of town (and across a dangerous bridge that they must ride across on their bicycles) in which they can live out their fantasies. There, Zak looks for his magic wand. But on their second visit, they are challenged by boys from the local neighborhood who have claim on the property. At this point, Zak decides they need a third king, and Joel joins them on their adventures.
As Zak and Alan play in their fantasy world, Alan’s mother begins to take him to church. Before, they had only occasionally attended church. Now they start going to Art’s church. His mother is concerned about Alan’s interest in fantasy and magic and suggests that it goes against the Bible. Their pastor isn’t as concerned as Alan’s mother, but she takes away his Harry Potter books as punishment for him riding over the bridge to their magic kingdom.
The book ends as Alan, Zak, Joel along with others including several girls, move into Middle School. Alan notices the changes as he is more interested in the girls and less in the fantasy worlds that he and Zak had created. Alan is also more interested in sports and in reading the Bible, which seems to have become his new “magic book.” And construction has begun on the land upon which they’d envisioned their magic kingdom.
I found myself curious about Alan as he navigates his changing world. His challenges kept me engaged. At first I found myself not liking the pastor (who told Alan the only book he read when he was a kid was the Bible). I didn’t find that believable. But I later liked him when he refused to tell Alan’s misdeeds to his mother, allowing Alan to take responsibility and to work it out himself.
This book could benefit a young boy troubled about his changing world (we’ve all been there, especially in those pre-teen years). The book could also help a boy with parents (or a friend’s parents) with drinking problems. The story shows the benefits of a religious community and organizations like Alcoholics Anonymous to help address such problems. However, I found myself concerned with seeing the Bible as a substitute for “magic books.” In this way, I agreed more with the pastor, who didn’t appear overly concerned about the magic books. I found myself wondering more why Alan’s mother was so concern. Adding to the confusion was Zak trying to be a good friend to Alan and giving him a copy of C. S. Lewis’ “magic books,” The Lion, Witch and Wardrobe. Lewis’ use of the fantasy genre as an allegorical way to understand Christianity is well known, and the gift shows that although Zak doesn’t get Alan’s interest in Christianity, he is supportive of his friend’s interests.
As for the Bible being some kind of magic book, I would hope that Alan would come to understand the purpose of Scripture is revelation. By showing us who God is and who we’re to be, the Bible helps bring us into a relationship with God. Maybe Alan’s new found interest in the Bible will help him appreciate it not just as a book with better magic or fantasy, but as a guide to a relationship with (to draw from AA language) a higher power.
I am curious as to how middle school boys might relate to this book. While those of us who lived through the terrorist attacks of 2001 understand the fear and uncertainty expressed by Alan and Zak, I wonder if this would be the same for those who were born a decade later (Alan and Zak would be in their late-20s today). If Arkins was to do a second publication, I suggest he consider how that event might be perceived differently by younger populations. The other issues that Alan face (a single parent with alcohol issues, fidelity to old friends while making new ones, and relationships with the opposite sex) are more universal than the 911 experiences.
The Magic Kings is easy to read. Arkins is an excellent storyteller and his style maintains the interests of the reader. I look forward to reading more books from him.
Disclaimer: I am in a writing group with Brennen Arkins and was given a copy of the book for review.
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
Exodus 12:21-32
February 25, 2018
I’m sure many of you have seen the movie Fiddler on the Roof. It’s about a poor Russian Jewish milkman named Tevye, who has an incredible voice. His family consists of a worried wife and five daughters. If I remember correctly, the movie opens with a comical fiddler, straddling the ridge of a roof, playing in the Sabbath at sunset. Tevye looks up to the roof and asks the audience, “And how do we keep our balance on the roof? One word – tradition.” From this, he launches into a song about tradition, after which Tevye provides the audience a confidential piece of wisdom. “Because of tradition, every one of us knows who He is (pointing to God), and of what God expects of us.”
Our faith is steeped in tradition. At times, tradition has taken a bum rap, some of it justified for we don’t worship tradition. But there are critical points to our faith that we must understand and accept or we’re not Christian. One of these non-negotiable items that tradition reminds us is that God provides a way out of our troubles and back into his family.
As you know, we’re in the season of Lent. This is a season of reflection on our mortality, our sinfulness, and our need for a savior. Or think of it this way… The season of Lent is a time for us to realize that we all have a bar tab we can’t pay. And God picks up the tab!
This Season of Lent, I am focusing on a traditional image found throughout the Scriptures, the sacrificial lamb. We can find the roots for this concept in the Old Testament, back even into the early chapters of Genesis.[1] John the Baptist identified Jesus as the “lamb of God” and in the book of Revelation, Jesus is revealed as the victorious lamb.[2] Living where we do, lambs aren’t often observed outside the meat counters in the grocery store, but they were quite common in Bible times and in many more rural places still today.[3]
Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Moses, and King David were all shepherds. Jesus refers to us as sheep when he tells Peter to feed his lambs and he presents himself as the Good Shepherd who goes after the lost sheep, building upon the idea in Psalm 23, of God as the Good Shepherd.[4] And during Holy Week, which comes at the end of Lent, we see that Jesus offers his life willingly, as a lamb, for our sins. But what does all this mean for us? We’ll examine this over the next six weeks.
Today, let’s go back into the Old Testament story of the 10th Plague and the Passover, as we begin our journey through the Biblical pastures where lambs graze and contemplate their sacrifice upon the altar. Tradition, as Teyve said, holds us up. The Passover, a central event for our Jewish friends, ties in with Jesus’ suffering and death. These traditions remind us that we have a loving God that will go great distances to redeem us from bondage. Read Exodus 12:21-32.
The tenth plague does it. Of the first nine, many of the plagues were like jokes: gnats everywhere (something we experience here on every nice day), frogs jumping around, and flies abounding.[5] These are all a nuisance, but what harm do they really cause? But here, in the 10th Plague, we see God not only as the Gentle Shepherd as described in Psalm 23, but a divine destroyer—a God of judgment and vengeance.[6] In our understanding of God, it’s important to remember that the Almighty is beyond our control. As Hannah, the mother of Samuel, proclaimed, “There is no Holy One like the Lord.” She goes on to point out that God breaks the bows of the mighty and grids the feeble with strength, and that the Lord kills and brings to life.[7] We can’t control God, for he already has things under his control. It’s a frightful thing to consider God’s judgment. Before it, we can only pray for mercy. But if God didn’t have such power, what good would God be to us?
At midnight it struck. The first-born in Egypt die. This includes the oldest child of Pharaoh, the man who rules over the Nile and was viewed as a god by his people. Pharaoh’s predecessor played god when he tried to kill all the Hebrew baby boys. Now the tables turn. Pharaoh awakes to death within his palace and the cries across his kingdom. All Egyptians experience sorry and pain. Not even the prisoner in the dungeon is spared. Those from all walks of life—from all occupations and social economic levels—suffer. To our mind, this doesn’t seem fair! Couldn’t the Hebrew freedom been accomplished with less death? Perhaps just the death of the brutal taskmasters, sparing their offspring? Why does someone locked up in the dungeon, someone who had nothing to do with Hebrew slavery, suffer?
We’re not given any answers here to the suffering question. Just as the Scriptures doesn’t tell us why Israel had to toil for 430 years as slaves in Egypt, we’re given no answer as to why the plague strikes those not guilty including livestock. We don’t comprehend why the first-born of the least of the Egyptians die, or even why in the third plague, the clueless frogs came up out of the Nile only to croak (in a figurative and literal sense). Instead of addressing the problem of suffering, the events of the plagues, especially the events on the night of the Passover remind us (as well as those in the story), that all life belongs to God. But even more deeply, this story reminds us of the cost of freedom.
For those of us who worship Christ, this should be of no surprise. The cross, like the events of the Passover, involves suffering. Whether we are enslaved by an Egyptian taskmaster or the burdens of our sin, our freedom from bondage is costly and to be cherished.
The Passover event, for the Hebrew people, could be compared to our Independence Day. We celebrate what happened on July 4th, 1776, but if we remember our history, it took another seven years of war for our nation to be free from Britain, and it would be another eight decades before there would be a movement to live into the document’s bold claim that “all men are created equal.” For the Hebrew people, there will be 40 years of forging a nation in the desert with many challenges ahead. But this is where their freedom begins. On the night of Passover, a vengeful God remembered his people and gave them a way to escape the angel of death that had descended upon Egypt.
As followers of Christ, we acknowledge the cost of freedom. Our freedom from sin and death did not come easily, as the Hebrews experienced and as we understand in the death of Jesus Christ. We must acknowledge the cries along the Nile this particular night as well as the cries from 1000s of other battles and gives thanks for the freedom we have enjoyed. Furthermore, as we see in the Hebrew Scriptures, that while such freedom is costly, God is the one who picks up the tab! God provides the Hebrew people in Egypt a way out.
I wonder what went through Israel’s collective mind that evening as they participated in this bizarre ritual—putting the blood of sheep on their doorpost, hurriedly eating roasted lamb as they huddled indoors listening to the cries of the Egyptians piercing the air. While they longed for freedom, I am sure many were emotionally moved by the suffering around them. Before the night was over, Pharaoh calls on Moses and Aaron and tells them to take the people of Israel out of Egypt. Pharaoh even acknowledges the supremacy of Israel’s God, asking for a blessing for himself. And so the Hebrew people are free to go, to escape the bondage of slavery. But they must remember that God is the one who provided them their freedom, and that is why they reenact the Passover, year after year, something they’ve been doing for over 3500 years. That’s a long time to thank God for picking up the tab, but grace should make us eternally grateful.
As you know, last week I was in Antigua, Guatemala. One of the traditions they have there is that on each Sunday during Lent, there is a procession from a church outside of the city to the site of the old cathedral by the city’s main square. These processions involve 100s of purple-clad men taking turn shouldering massive floats that weigh up to 2,000 pounds (it takes about 40 men just to hold up one of the floats). They come into town on streets decorated with painted sawdust and flowers, followed by a band playing mournful tunes. When it is over, all is cleaned up. By doing this tradition over and over, just as the Jews observe the Passover and we observed Holy Communion, we are reminded of how much God has done for us. We’re reminded that in Jesus Christ, God has picked up the tab.
God desires to free his people from their bondage to sin and death and to allow us a new life in Jesus Christ. God redeemed the Hebrew families from their bondage in Egypt. Through the salvific work of Jesus Christ, God frees us from our bondage to sin. Our God is a God of grace. Our God is a God who picks up the tab. Rejoice and be thankful. As a God of grace, we not called to earn our freedom, but to respond with a grace-filled life. We hold to the traditions, not because they have magic powers, but because they point to a greater truth found in the Almighty. They remind us who God is and to whom we belong. When we understand to whom we belong, we will live gracious and generous lives. Amen.
©2018
[1] Genesis 4:4, 22:13-14.
[2] John 1:29, Revelation 5:12.
[3] For a more detailed examination, see Robert L. Reymond, The Lamb of God: The Bible’s Unfolding Revelation of Sacrifice (Fearn, Roos-shire, Scotland, “Mentor Imprint, 2006).
[4] John 21:15-16, 10:1-18.
[5] Exodus 8.
[6] For a discussion of God as “Divine Destroyer” in Exodus, see Donald E. Gowan, Theology in Exodus (Louisville: Westminster, 1994), Chapter 6.
[7] 1 Samuel 2:2, 4 & 6.
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
February 4, 2018
Philippians 4:4-20
As a Boy Scout, I loved a good game of Capture the Flag. We often camped in Holly Shelter Swamp on the banks of the Northeast Cape Fear River. There would be two teams, the battle of the snakes. Cobra Patrol verses the Rattlesnake Patrol was a Cobra. We’d start the game as the light was fading from the sky and it’d continue till well after it was dark. The objective was to capture the other team’s flag and bring it back across the center line without getting caught. If you were caught (or tagged) on the enemy side, you were sent to a “prison” where you were held until the end of the game or until you were freed by being tagged by one of your teammates.
We played out this battle in a large parking lot for a wildlife ramp on the river. As we generally camped there in winter, there’d be few or no vehicles parked there, especially not at night, so the lot made an ideal set-up for the game. On one side was the river, two sides were swamp, and behind us was the bluff where we camped. During my first campout, as one of the young kids who didn’t know what was going on, I and several others were quickly caught and placed in prison. It wasn’t fun sitting there. There was nothing to do but wait and complain. I know a bit of how Paul felt in prison, although I can’t imagine how it must feel to be there day after day, week after week… In prison, you’re at the mercy of others. You can’t participate in what’s going on. There is a restlessness that grows inside of you.
We’re finishing our look in Philippians today. Here, Paul offers some good advice for how we’re to live as Christians. A lot of it is about our attitude, how we approach life. Are we optimistic? Are we gracious? Do we trust God? Our attitude goes a long way toward how we live our lives.
At the beginning of this letter, we learned that Paul’s circumstances are not ideal. He’s writing from prison.[1] There is a guard checking on him regularly, making sure the cuffs are snug, the chains secured, and the door bolted. Guard duty for a soldier was the pits. Boring. Some of the guards would take out their displeasure of having pull this duty on the prisoners.
If you were to write a letter under these circumstances, what would you say? How would you end your letter? I’m not so sure I could end my letter as Paul did, rejoicing in the Lord. Instead, I’d be begging for you to call a lawyer, to get me out, to raise my bail, or to slip a hacksaw blade in a cake and bring it to me…
Paul is attempting to calm the Philippians who seem to be stressed out. There is some bickering within the church in Philippi as you’d see if you read the beginning of this chapter. Over all, this is normal stuff. Someone is not happy about something, someone else is stressing out over something else… It still happens in churches, today. Paul wants the Philippians and would advise us to take a deep breath and then to joyfully continue the work they and we are supposed to be doing…
I recently read a story in the New York Times about how the most popular class at Yale this past year is about happiness. Almost a quarter of the freshman class signed up for the course. The professor suggested the class’ appeal is because the students are under so much stress.[2]
When my daughter was in Middle School, about the same age as many of these Boy Scouts here, she had a class that focused on stress. Consequentially, this stressed her out. She even had homework, to write a paper about what stressed her out. I suggested she write about homework (it sure was stressor during my childhood). In this class the teacher called for a “stress-free day” in which they did nothing. Not only did they not do anything, they were not allowed to do any other work such as homework for another class. Leaving the class at the end of the period, Caroline told the teacher that the “stress-free class” was the most stressful she’d ever experienced. That was the point. We don’t avoid stress by doing nothing and I think that’s one of the things we see from Paul in this letter. Keep doing the good work, keep rejoicing, and don’t let the circumstances get you down. Even though things may be bad in Philippi, at least they’re better off than Paul, whose chains rattle as he writes to the congregations he loves so much.
Paul begins this chapter, before our reading, mentioning several people who had been helpful in his ministry in Philippi. It seems they’re in a bit of a snit. They’re fighting, their arguing, struggling to get alone and Paul tells the good folks of Philippi to step in and help out. They ought to be “of the same mind in the Lord.” In other words, their focus needs not be on their internal struggles with one another, but on what God is doing in their community. When we focus on ourselves, we take things personally, but when we focus on the larger picture of what’s God’s doing in the world, there’s a lot all of us can get excited over. We should want to be a part of it!
Paul provides the Philippians with a number of suggestions as to how they’re to live the Christian life. First of all, they’re to rejoice in the Lord and as they do this, they’re to let their gentleness be known. You know, it’s hard to be praising God as you abuse others. Instead, if we lift up our hearts to God, we should also be led to deal gently with those around us, for we know from where our blessings come and to whom our future belongs. So take delight in God. Stand in awe of God’s wonderful creation, look to see God’s image in those around you, praise God in song and in prayer, with others and when you are alone.
Next, they’re told not to worry. Good advice, but how? The Philippians probably asked the same question, and then they thought about Paul and his tribulations. “If Paul ain’t worrying, why are we?” Instead of worrying, Paul encourages his readers to take their needs to God, the one who holds the world in his hands. Of all people, those of us of faith should not worry, but we all do. As followers of Jesus, we should be bringing a calming approach to our society, but I don’t often see that. We should do better.
Paul goes on to say that the Philippians need to focus on that which is true, honorable, just, pure, pleasing, commendable, excellent and worthy. Verse eight is a beautiful verse. Paul knows that if those who are bickering focus on what’s important, things will work out. Problems arise. However, when we get sidetracked, what should be minor irritants grows and if left unchecked can become a full-fledge war. Too much of what we fight and argue over is trivial—whether it is in our relationships and family, in the church or in our community, in our nation or between nations. If we only could focus on that which is good and pure and honorable instead of trying to always be seen as right, we’d be better off.
Finally, Paul lifts himself as an example. “Keep on doing those things you’ve learned from me, that which you’ve seen me doing,” he says. Again, Paul is writing this in chains and, by his demeanor, sets an example for the Philippians and for us. We can learn from Paul, just as we can be a model for others by the way that we handle our sufferings. Out Scouts know the importance of doing a good turn daily, and when they do such, they set the example for all.
Let me take you back to my prison experience while playing “Capture the Flag” along the Northeast Cape Fear River. Our patrol leader, a guy name Gerald, served as an example to me for what unselfish leadership is all about. In one of our early camping trips, he gave up his own dry tent to two of us who were wet when water rushed under our tent during a storm. That made an impression on me.
On this particular night Gerald decided to free us and make a dash for the flag. I told you the dirt parking lot in which played was surrounded by swamp on two sizes and the river on the third. Gerald slipped the river and quietly made his way unseen down the river till he was behind the enemy’s lines, then he slipped into the swamp until he was right behind where we were in languishing prison. With the enemy guard looking to the front, thinking his back was secured by the swamp, Gerald slipped out of the swamp, tagged us, and told us to run. As the guard and others started chasing us as we headed to safety, Gerald grabbed our enemy’s flag and, headed toward our lines. He was caught right before he was able to make it over. Then it was our turn to free him from prison. I don’t remember who won that game. It seemed to go on for hours, but at some point it was over and there was a campfire and a night sleeping along the banks of the river.
From Paul, remember to rejoice, to be gentle with one another, to be a good example, and to trust in a God whose love for us has been shown in Jesus Christ. If God loves us that much, we’re in good hands. Despite the chains, Paul knows he’s been freed by Jesus Christ, which allows him to rejoice even while locked in a Roman jail. If we can rejoice in his circumstances, so too can we. Amen.
©2018
[1] Philippians 1:13
[2] David Shiner, Yale’s Most Popular Class Ever: Happiness, New York Times (January 26, 2018).
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
January 28, 2018
I am aged 22, I have 5 siblings whom I love unconditionally which my mother did a great job on teaching us how to love, as well as tolerate each other. My family is supportive Christian Family and I consider myself one of the luckiest people to have such a great family. I believe in the one and only Messiah our Lord Jesus Christ of Nazareth. In Zimbabwe the majority of the people are Christian. On the other hand, there is a significant sum of people who still believe in our old ways of Ancestry Communication and Spirit mediums.
Zimbabwe is known to have been the breadbasket of Africa as it has rich and fertile grounds which gives a good produce of a wide variety of crops which include Maize (Corn), cotton and tobacco. Not only is the land good for farming it is also known for its rich mineral resources.
Growing up we were unsure of what it meant to be Christian as people claiming to be prophets were using supposedly miraculous acts to lure crowds. This caused us to move from church to church in search of the Lord’s presence. Opening the Bible was one of the best things that ever happened to my family and me. Gifted with the opportunity to see what the Bible had in store for us, it was comforting to go through verses such as John 16 verse 33, which states, “These things I have spoken unto you, that in me you might have peace. In the world you shall have tribulation: but be of good cheer; I have overcome the world.” Through Scripture, am comforted by knowing that God is faithful, and is always looking over us. He truly cares and is our protector and comforter in times of need.
I believe in God because I know not any other God or anyone better than the Father of the holy Jesus Christ, I believe in God because I choose wisdom over worldly positions as the Lord says in the book of Proverbs 8:19,“ My gifts are better than gold, even the purest gold, my wages better than sterling silver.” I believe in God because I grew to trust him wholeheartedly without question or doubting his glory and might. Perseverance was not much of a choice because failure was not an option for me and my family, stated in Galatians 6 vs 9 “Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up.” It always rang in our ears that everything shall come to pass and I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.
There was a day we barely had anything to eat and I asked my mom what we will do for tomorrow and she responded by saying God will provide. At a young age I did not understand her faith and it did not seem logical that we could rely on forces we could not see to provide food for us. She is a woman of unquestionable faith who led us in believing in God no matter the case. Even when we had no clue about what to expect as a single mother she carried our weight with trust and fierce faith in the Lord. I admire her for her belief and I am happy to say God has never let her down. She is a woman of faith. We went on with our daily activities and that afternoon we got food. And we were very happy.
After having experienced a fruitless night, I woke up one morning hungry. She looked at us and told us, “God renews your energy every morning with or without food.” She built a fighting and mental spirit in our lives that lives within us up until today. We never give up easily on anything we attempt. God’s grace and mercy have been prevailing in my life in ways I cannot describe. There is no other way than God’s way, which is why I live everyday according to his will.
“Jesus wept, was a short verse that meant a lot to me. Another one was from Psalms 23: “The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.” I did not memorize the whole Psalm but I best related to those verses. They had me marching from one open door to another. It had me understand that I am the one who fights my battles, with a God who guides and protects us.
However, there are still believers in the old ways of spirit mediums and ancestral practices commonly criticize Christianity. Such practices continue throughout the country. It is different with each tribe, but they believe there is communication between the deceased who can connect us to God. These practices have gone on for many centuries. It again became prominent during the struggle for independence among the guerrilla warriors who fought for The Republic of Zimbabwe. Their memories are honored by home brewed alcohol, which is shared amongst the elderly men and women.
To me being a Christian was the easiest choice because I understood that God had chosen me before I was born. With this in mind, I felt like it was everyone’s responsibility to help other Christians with their spiritual lives and share ideas on understanding of the Lord our God and his text. My friends and I then started Scripture Union, which is a Bible study group. We kicked off with 5 students and grew to an attendance of 40 people, consisting of students as well as teachers. I am proud of establishing this organization because it still runs. This organization was successful in completing several tasks such as redistributing old clothes to orphanages and teaching kids educational games.
With the Eskews, Brendan’s American Host Family
The day when my little sister learnt there was someone greater than all existence who had created the world, she asked how we could repay someone who owns everything we know and touch. I had to answer a question I did not fully understand the answer. I explained to her that our good deeds and pureness of the heart is what will make him happy. We have nothing to offer Him as he is the Great God who creates everything. We can only praise and worship Him in the best ways we can. She still reminds me of this teaching as one of the moments she had clarity on what was going on in her life and how she perceived the world.
I have come to accept and greatly appreciate God’s love. I also consider the gift of life to be one of God’s great gifts. I have lived and learnt that God’s knowledge is beyond anything anyone can comprehend but he loves us all unconditionally and he takes care of his own. If that is not enough for one to love, trust and believe in him I do not know what is. He has equipped us for every battle that we can fight and he even provided everyone with a conscience that helps in decision making showing how good our God is. Amen.
To learn more about Brendan, check out this article in The Skinnie.
Address to the Haggis
Jeff Garrison
Burns’ Night Talk
St. Andrew’s Society of the City of Savannah
January 26, 2018
Wow! In our program I am identified as a Rector. I’m not sure how to take this. Should I be honored? After all, the word comes from an old English meaning “to rule.” Or perhaps, because I’m in a crowd of Scots, I should be afraid. As you know, Scots are independently minded. I can assure you that you will not find a minister within the Church of Scotland, the mother church of all Presbyterians, referred to as Rector. You may find the headmaster of a school referred to in that way, but as for the Kirk, that’s way too English, way too Anglican.
Let me take this moment to share with you a bit of history. In the 17th Century, following the Scottish Reformation, the people of Scotland signed the National Covenant, which adopted a Calvinist theology and a Presbyterian form of government. This placed Scotland not only in opposition to the Roman Church, but also to the Episcopal form of government as advanced by the Anglicans.
There were a number of battles over these issues. The Scots don’t like being told what to do. They didn’t like being told that had to pray in a particular manner so they resisted the Anglican prayer book. The clergy didn’t like being told they had to dress all fancy when leading worship which led to the adoption of the Geneva robe. And the Scots had a problem with Bishops and clergy vested with lots of power, so they adopted a system of government that shares power between the clergy and lay elders. This didn’t go over well with the crown. They liked the idea of having loyal bishops who could help it control the Kirk. The church fought back and eventually a compromise was achieved. The Crown would be Anglican when they were in England, and when in Scotland, they’d be Presbyterian. In Scotland, the Queen has no Bishops to do her bidding and there are no rectors within the Kirk.
Now on to matters at hand—our remembrance of Mr. Burns. Sadly, I never studied him while in school. In college, the only poets of interest to me were musicians. Steely Dan was a favorite. They had some immortal lines back in the seventies and eighties, one of which comes to mind this evening. It’s from their hit song, “Deacon Blue,” and you may know it. “Drink Scotch Whisky all night long and die behind the wheel.” It’s a great line, but please, don’t try to live it out. The same could be said for many of Burn’s ideas and examples.
I was in Scotland this summer. As you’ve heard, I scheduled a couple days around Edinburgh with a friend of mine, Ewan. He’d taken time off to be with me, but as it happens in our calling, people are not always considerate as to when they die. On our second day together, I could go to a funeral for a woman I didn’t know or spend the day tramping around Edinburgh on my own. After that hospital visit, I chose the latter.[1]
I started out my morning being dropped off up by the castle. I’d toured it before, so I was interested in something else. In the shadow of the castle, I’d learned of a Writer’s Museum and, fancying myself as a wannabe writer, decided to visit. Besides, the admission is free which warmed my Scottish blood. But the museum is hard to find. I had to humble myself and ask for directions. Not only did I have to do this once, but several times as it appears not many people know of the museum. Finally, someone pointed me to a small alley and said I’d find it up there. There were no signs, but the alley opened up into a square and there was the museum. It’s housed in a very old but unique home with wonderful wooden spiral stairways. There are large exhibits on Robert Louis Stevenson, Sir Walter Scott and the man of the night, Robbie Burns. As a kid, I’d read Treasure Island, so I spent most of the time in the Stevenson’s section, while quickly running through the other parts. Had I known that I was going to be expected to talk about Burns, I would have lingered a little longer…
Leaving the museum, I worked my way across the city. One stop you’ll have to make is the Scott Monument, for the author not the people. If you’re not claustrophobic or afraid of heights, I recommend you climb it. From the top you are treated to one of the most incredible views of Edinburgh. I think it’s even more striking than the views from Arthur’s Throne. So the next time you’re in Edinburgh, if you are in reasonably good shape, have five pounds to spare and a few more to lose to exertion, and enjoy the snugness that comes from being confined in a straightjacket (as the stairwells are smug), check it out.
Don’t worry, I’m getting closer to Burns… By mid-afternoon I’d made my way to Canonsgate Church. It’s the burial site for Adam Smith and I wanted to pay my respect and do a Facebook selfie to dispel any rumors that I have socialist leanings. While there, chatting with a guide, I asked if there were others buried in the church yard that I might be interested in. “Oh yes,” she said, “On the other side of the church is the grave of Robert Burn’s lover, Clarinda.”
I’ve told you that I’m not a Burn’s scholar, right? But I knew enough about the man to know that he had more than a few lovers across Scotland. “I’m sure you’re not the only church in Scotland claiming a grave of a Burn’s lover,” I said. She took offense at my sarcasm and reminded me that Clarinda was special. What does that make his other lovers?
In Garrison Keillor’s novel, Wobegon Boy, the protagonist writes a poem for his wife as a wedding gift. Reading it she embraces him and it suddenly dawns on him why men have been writing poems all these centuries: “to impress a woman with the hopes she will sleep with you.”
Our friend Robbie wrote many such poems for Clarinda. The two of them lured each other with their poetry and correspondence even though they likely never consummated, in a physical manner, their relationship. But their letters and poems are to be cherish. Clarinda is the reason we have “Ae Fond Kiss” and “Clarinda, Mistress of My Soul.”
Of course, Clarinda wasn’t her real name. That was Agnes, but everybody called her Nancy. That is everyone but Burns, who gave her this beautiful nickname that is much softer sounding than Agnes and less common than Nancy. And, with this secret name, it was a safer way for Burns to correspond with a married woman.
We can speculate as to why Clarinda maintained her purity while Burn’s promised to conquer her “by storm and not siege.” Their relationship got off to a slow start because after first meeting, Burns had to cancel their next due to an accident that put him on crutches and in bed. But there were other reasons. Clarinda was pious and religious and even though her husband had run out on her, she wasn’t going to do the same. She would later travel to Jamaica in an attempt to win him back. And then there were a few other details. At the time they were flirting with each other, Robbie had already planted his seed with Jean Armour. When Clarinda resisted Burn’s advances, the poet set his eyes on her servant, Jenny Clow. Ms. Clow would also give birth to the poet’s child. Only a fool would be lured into his bed with the thought she’d have a long-lasting relationship with the man whose seed was germinating all over Scotland. Clarinda was no fool.
Clarinda and Burns were attracted to the others use of language. Both were gifted, and Clarinda was nearly Burn’s equal with the pen as these few lines illustrate:
Go on, sweet bird, and soothe my care
Thy cheerful notes will hush despair;
Thy tuneful warbling, void of art,
Thrill sweetly through my aching heart.
Now choose thy mate, and fondly love…
Although Clarinda probably never allowed Robert to take her to bed, the words the two of them exchanged were certainly intimate and salacious. As an old woman, she looked back fondly on their relationship and said she hoped to meet him in heaven. Of course, that’s assuming Burns made it… The Rev. John Kemp, Clarinda’s pastor, certainly had his doubt as to Burns eternal destination. Maybe he and Burns are sharing eternity together for it was later discovered that the Good Reverend had three wives at the same time! Had Burns’ lived, he would have enjoyed the satirical wit that situation offered. (I want to know how he managed to pulled off having three wives like that).
Clarinda, Jenny, Jean (not to mention Mary and a few others)… What would be Burns’ fate if he lived in today’s “Me Too” climate? I mentioned Garrison Keillor and we know what happened to him, along with a long line of other popular folk whose sexual indiscretions have come back to haunt them. I don’t know how this would affect Burns. It may not have had any impact. In his day, more than one minister chided Burns for his behavior. He didn’t seem to let their scolding’s worry him.
Poets are often great lovers. Their command of language is such that they can take words and draw our minds into new places and possibilities. Think of King David, a poet from the Bible. Many of the Psalms are attributed to him and, we’re told, he was a man after the heart of God. And like Burns, he wasn’t always honorable. This is speculation, but can you image the love note he sent down to Bathsheba? Of course, we know the pain that little affair caused. Poor Uriah. But we remember David, with his frailties, because we all have had our own shortcomings. David gives us hope and shows us the wideness of God’s mercy.
I am not sure Burns had the same desires for God as David, but we can still appreciate him. In his day, he brought humor to a serious society and pointed out social inequalities and hypocrisy. And today, he us still reminding us to look for beauty. Furthermore, Burn’s collection of poems and songs in the Scottish dialect gives identity to those of us whose ancestors left those rocky shores, yet whose hearts are still warmed by the beauty of heather blooming in the crags. And, furthermore, his poems are easily plagiarized when we court our sweethearts.
I did visit Clarinda’s grave that afternoon. It was covered with flowers—fresh flowers. She’s buried next to her cousin, Lord Craig, whose grave looks like it was last attended to during the Boer War. It’s been nearly two centuries years since her death and there are people who not only remember her, yet think highly enough of her to regularly place flowers on her grave. That’s quite an honor. Here’s to you, Clarinda.
Thank you.
Sources Consulted:
_________, Robert Burns in Your Pocket (Glasgow: Waverley Books, 2009).
Brauer, Jerald C., editor, The Westminster Dictionary of Church History (Philadelphia: Westminster, 1971).
Dawson, Jane, John Knox (New Haven: Yale, 2015).
Douglas, Hugh, Robert Burns: The Tinder Heart (Gloucestershire, UK: Alan Sutton Publishing, 1996).
Herman, Arthur, How the Scots Invented the Modern World (New York: Random House, 2001).
MacCulloch, Diarmaid, The Reformation: A History (New York: VikingPenguin, 2005).
[1] A story used in my introduction (story came from the Chic Murray Facebook site and “adapted” for this occasion:
This past summer, our speaker was visiting the Rev. Ewan Aitken, a friend of his in Scotland. Ewan asked if it was okay for him to run in and see someone at Edinburgh General Hospital.
“No problem,” Jeff said, and asked if it was okay if he went in, too.”
“Come on.” Ewan said. While Ewan was making his pastoral visit, Jeff decided to see what he could do to cheer up some of the patients. He stepped into a ward and went up to a bed and said hello.
The man looked up and said, “Far far yer honest sonsie face great chieftens o the puddin race a boon them aw you tak..
Oh for goodness sake, Jeff said and moved on to the next bed
“WEE courin timid beastie wad caused this panic in tha breastie…..” the patient mumbled.
Shaking his head, Jeff moved to the next bed.
“Some hae meat and canna eat and some hae nane and want it…”
At this time, Ewan was ready to leave and came over to Jeff who asked if this was the insane ward.
“Oh no,” Ewan, said, “this is the SERIOUS BURNS UNIT.”
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
January 21, 2018
Philippians 3:2-17
What’s our number one priority? What’s the most important thing for us to accomplish? What should we all be striving for? As followers of Jesus Christ, we’re to be thankful, generous, gracious, and focused on him. Our priority, as we’re going to hear from Paul in just a moment, is to be “in Christ.”
This morning I’m continuing to work through Paul’s letter to the church in Philippi. Read Philippians 3:2-17
It’s never too late to do what is right. That’s good news, although at times it may not seem like it.
I’m sure some of you have read Anne Tyler. She’s published twenty novels, several which has been considered for a Pulitzer and one which was awarded the prize.[1] I’m curious if any of you have read her novel, Saint Maybe?[2] It wasn’t considered for the Pulitzer, but a good book, nonetheless.
Saint Maybe is the story of Ian Bedloe. At the beginning of the book, he’s a high school student living in the shadows of Danny, his talented older brother. Ian looks up to his Danny and doesn’t know what to make of things when his brother quickly marries a woman with two children. She’s quickly pregnant with a third child, maybe too quickly. In time, Ian begins to have questions about Danny’s wife and one day, when he’s angry and feels he’s been taken advantage of by his sister-in-law, he shares his concerns with his brother. Danny becomes upset, flies out of the house in rage and is killed in an automobile accident. Or was it an accident?
Ian lives with a terrible secret. He graduates from high school and goes off to college. Along the way, his sister-in-law, who struggles with three kids, dies from an overdose. Again, was it an accident? Or intentional? The guilt builds, as his parents who are now aging and have health issues of their own, must take care of three small children. Ian is unsure as what to do and one night while walking around with his hands in his pocket, stumbles upon a storefront: “The Church of the Second Chance.”
He becomes friends with Reverend Emmett, to whom he confesses what he has done. Emmett assures him that he can be forgiven, but that he needs to take care of his brother’s kids. He drops out of school and for the next two decades raises the kids, putting his own life on hold.
Tyler’s story is about forgiveness and shows a tension that exists between forgiveness and consequences, penance and doing what is right. Certainly, there is much in the story that smacks of works-righteousness and later in the book, his sister-in-law’s oldest child, a bright but troubled teenager, labels Ian “Saint Maybe.” He certainly saw himself, not working out of gratitude but striving to earn forgiveness… Was he paying the price or accepting the consequences of his sin?
Paul, I believe, would disagree with Ian’s feelings that he’s got to carry this burden to the end to be forgiven. Our forgiveness comes through the atoning death of Jesus Christ. But, the grace God has shown us frees us to live in a new way; it frees us to finally do what is right and good and noble, not because we want to earn our salvation but because our relationship with Christ is all that matters.
Although I felt the “Church of the Second Chance” should have helped reassure Ian that he’s loved unconditionally by God, I credit them with helping him, just a kid in his late-teens, care for the three orphaned children. The church stands by Ian, babysitting and helping him bear the burden. And in the book, after years of struggling to raise these children who are not his, you see the fruit of the love they have for each other and their adopted father. Grace, along with love, does abide.
In our Scripture passage for today we get a sense Paul is in a battle with the Jewish Christians who wanted to burden Gentile converts with the Law handed down from Moses. Why else would he begin this section of his letter, in verse 2, with a warning for his readers to beware of dogs, evil workers and those who mutilate the flesh? This is nothing new for Paul. Unfortunately, if you read Paul, he always seems to be commenting on circumcision.[1] It was the big issue of the day for Christians in the Mediterranean region in the first century.
Paul has every reason to be proud of who he is and of his background. In our text, we hear Paul cite his resume. It’s impressive, the guy has credentials. But then he turns it around and in verse 7 says he regards it all as loss because of Christ. It wasn’t enough. It could never be enough. Paul affirms that our priority is to be in Christ. That’s all that matters. He’s running a race focused on Christ. His goal at the end is to be reunited to his Savior.
There are three points that I want to make today concerning this passage. First, consider what Paul uses, from his own life, as an example for others. Secondly, what is it that we value? What’s important for our lives? And finally, there’s the good news in this passage. It’s never too late to do what is right.
The Apostle Paul had a miraculous conversion on the Damascus road. Paul literally does a one-eighty; he starts out as a persecutor of the church and becomes the church’s greatest missionary. Such a change has set the pattern for what we, as Christians, see as the ideal conversion.[2] But interestingly, Paul doesn’t hold up his conversion as the ideal or even as the norm. It happened only because of the grace of his (and our) Lord Jesus Christ. Instead of talking about his conversion as a model for others, Paul lifts up his struggle to be faithful as the example. In numerous places, he uses the metaphor of a runner or an athlete to describe the Christian life.[3]
Too often, I think, we see one’s acceptance of Jesus as the goal. If someone can just accept Christ, all is well. I’m not so sure that Paul would agree with this modern way in which we’ve cheapened the faith. Paul saw himself in a long distance race, and the goal line wasn’t going to be reached in this life. Paul experienced grace, but that’s not the goal. Grace isn’t the end, it’s the beginning. Grace helps us prioritize what’s important and redirects our lives. Like Paul, we must continue to run, to hold tight to the faith as a runner in a relay might hold tight to the baton. The goal is to be with Christ, eternally. Paul tells people not to judge him by his past, for his life-long goal is to be faithful to his Savior. Nothing else matters. He’s looking ahead and encourages us to do the same.
This leads into my second point, “what is it that we value?” What’s important to you? How do you want to be remembered? Paul makes a definite point here. What’s important isn’t the past. His resume is impeccable, and he throws it out the window. “Whatever gains I had, these I have come to regard as loss because of Christ,” he writes in the 7th verse. Our accomplishments pale in comparison to what Christ has done for us. Even if we live a good life, we still have no room to brag and it’s all so trite when we think about the love shown to us.
Or maybe there are things in our past that overshadow our accomplishments. Some of us (perhaps many or all of us) are burdened with at least part of our past. We’ve done things and left things undone that we’ve regretted, things may still haunt us. That doesn’t seem to be Paul’s problem. With the exception of his stint as a persecutor of the church, his past is pretty remarkable. I expect for most of us, and I’m including myself, our past is a mixed-bag: some good and some bad and some indifferent. But Paul reminds us we can’t dwell on our past. We’re to start where we are and make our way forward.
This leads into my third point. The past is water under the bridge. We’re now on a new journey with Christ and we need to focus on him. The good news, as I said at the beginning, is that it’s never too late to do what is right, to change our direction, to find the peace that comes from knowing and accepting God’s grace and love.
Paul wasn’t ashamed of his past; there was much in his past of which he could be proud. Instead, he knew it didn’t matter. What was important is what Jesus had done for him and how he responds. The same is true for us—as individuals, as a congregation, as a community, as a nation and even as the collective citizens of the globe. If we spend too much time dwelling on the past—on the good we’ve done, the bad we’ve done or that which we left undone—we’ll miss out on what we can be doing now. How do we respond to God’s love in Jesus Christ? How do we live “In Christ?” That is what’s important.
We can’t let the past hold us back. Paul knows he has to move forward. He’s ready to run till Jesus calls him home. What about us? Do we trust enough to turn all the joys and accomplishments, the broken dreams and missed opportunities, over to Jesus, and to dedicate this day and every day forward to serving him and him alone? It’s never too late to start. Let us pray:
Almighty God, Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, we bow before you giving thanks for your grace and asking for you to help us run this race with Christ as our goal. May we live in Christ and in your good time die in Christ that we might be in Christ in your presence eternally. Amen.
©2018
[1] See Romans 2:25-29, 3:1, 4:11; 1 Corinthians 7:18-19; Galatians 2:12, 5:6, 5:11, 6:15; Ephesians 2:11; Colossians 2:11, 4:11; Titus 1:10.
[2] See Fred B. Craddock, Philippians: Interpretations: A Bible Commentary for Teaching and Preaching (Atlanta: John Knox, 1984), 55.
[3] See 1 Corinthians 9:24 & 9:26, and Galatians 2:2 and 5:7. The writer of Hebrews also uses the runner as a metaphor: Hebrews 12:1.
[1] Dinner at the Homesick Restaurant, The Accidental Tourist and Breathing Lessons have all be nominated for the Pulitzer Prize in Fiction. Breathing Lessons was awarded the prize.
[2] Published by Knopf in 1991.
I have used “Dwelling with Philippians, Reformed Worship #100 as a starting point for these sermons on Philippi.
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
January 14, 2018
Philippians 1:27-2:10
We’re continuing our journey through Philippians. Paul has a special place in his heart for this church. It’s in Philippi, on the Sabbath, that Paul, Timothy and Silas meets a group of women down by a river who’ve gathered to worship. Paul shares the gospel message and one woman, Lydia, is especially moved. She invites Paul and his friends to stay in her home. Paul accepts her invitation and organizes his first church on European soil.[1]
As I’ve mentioned, Philippi was also where Paul first experienced prison. In the middle of the night, there was an earthquake that broke open the jail. The jailer thought Paul and Silas had escaped and was ready to end his life, but Paul cries out to him and assures him that everyone is all present and counted for even though the bars are opened and the chains broken. This leads to the conversion of the jailer and his family.
Paul is pleased with how his work was blessed in Philippi and, as we saw last week, he keeps them in his prayers. Likewise, the Philippians are also fond of Paul, even sending a gift to relieve his suffering while he’s in prison. As I attempted to stress last week, joy is a theme that appears throughout this letter. This seems odd with Paul being, once again, in prison. In today’s reading, we learn that there are some difficulties facing the Philippians. Paul wants to encourage them as he draws upon Christ’s example. I am going to begin today’s reading at the end of the first chapter, beginning with verse 27. Read Philippians 1:27-2:13.
We know how to do this. We might forget sometimes, but we know that when we want to connect with a child, we get down on their level. Or we raise them up to our level. And the same goes with our pets. We get down on the floor and play, or if the pet is small enough, we pick them up and hold them close or place them on our shoulder. And if we’re trying to teach someone something, we don’t act superior and tell them to come to where we’re at, but we began on their level. It’s empathy. It’s walking a mile in someone else’s shoes. Such behavior is foundational if we want to build a good relationship. We might not always do it, but we know we should.
God shows us how this works. It’s why Christ came to us as he did, in a way that we can understand and in a manner in which we can related.
Our reading this morning begins with a plea for those reading the letter to live in manner worthy of the gospel of Jesus Christ. This is a goal we should all strive to meet. Paul has just given an update on his condition, and so he turns to the situation in Philippi. He wants the Philippians to stand together, to be of one mind and spirit so they will not be intimidated by their opponents. He even has the audacity to suggest that it is a privilege to suffer with Christ!
Our speaker at the January Series on Friday was Caroline Webb. She spoke on how to use behavioral science to improve our daily lives. One of the things she suggests is that by looking for the good in everything, our brains will catch on and focus on good. She seems to be echoing a bit of what Paul is saying here to the Philippians. “Sure, you’re suffering, but stand firm and focus on the good for you know God is bringing about your salvation.” Focus on the good!
Early in the second chapter, Paul gives some wonderful advice which stands in the tradition of the Golden Rule. If we could only live by this:
Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility regard others as better than yourselves. Let each look not to your own interests, but to the interest of others. Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus.
As Christians, we should ponder Paul’s counsel and consider what it means for us. The kingdom of God has no place for ambition or conceit. We’re called, as disciples, to work for the greater good of God’s kingdom, not to build our own little fiefdom. We should regard others better than ourselves which checks our tendency to be overly zealous and to look down on those who do not agree with us.
I am often asked about the Christian belief that the only way to God the father is through Jesus Christ. Lots of people have a problem with this exclusive claim, seeing it as not accepting the pluralism that exist within our society. Yes, our belief in Jesus Christ as the way, the truth, and the life, is exclusive.[2] The problem, however, arises when Christians begin to think ourselves, or of churches, as superior to others. Such thoughts cannot be attributed to Jesus or to Paul. Paul, who certainly believed in the exclusive claim of Jesus Christ, tells those in the Philippian church that being a disciple means they must be humble, they must be of the mind Jesus.
Think about what this means. Jesus Christ, if we recall, got along better with the sinners of the day than he did with the faithful. He accepted them. Furthermore, he didn’t try to control them. He gave them a choice to follow him or not and didn’t beat up those who didn’t choose him. The only time he got really angry was when he saw people being an obstacle to worship as when he attacked the money changers at the temple.
Another of our January Series speakers this week was John Inazu. For those of you who were not here, I hope that by mentioning these two speakers, you get a sense of what you’ve been missing… Inazu is a professor of law and religion at Washington University in St. Louis and a fellow in the Institute for Advance Studies in Culture at the University of Virginia. He didn’t tell us how about his travel schedule back and forth between Virginia and Missouri, but he did encouraged us to have confidence with our faith. For you see, it’s only when we are confident about what we believe that we can take the risk to befriend those who are different. Otherwise, we’ll see them as a threat and have a tendency to demonize them. But if we are grounded in our faith in Christ, we should be willing to accept others who are different for we know that they, too, are created in God’s image.
It is a heresy, I believe, for the Christian faith to focus on how we might dominate and subdue others. Our focus is to be on Jesus Christ. Christ, as Paul tells us in the beautiful poem that follows this section, emptied himself, humbled himself, and took on the form of the slave so he could reach a broken humanity.
The example I used at the beginning—of us being willing to getting down in the floor with a child—is what God does in Christ. God comes down to our level, which is what the Christmas story is all about.
We should apply Paul’s principles to our lives. Are we standing firm in one spirit, in one mind, in the same love? Paul certainly knows there is a need for diversity of thought and he’s not after a uniformity of opinion. Instead, he’s hoping, as one commentator on this passage wrote, the Philippians will “strive for an inner sentiment for one another that is full of love.”[3] That’s also my prayer for us. We’re not to flaunt or to brag about ourselves, but are to be called into the heart of Jesus Christ and into his service.
The Reformed understanding of call (and all of us here have been called by Christ) is twofold. We’re called for salvation and for service. We can’t laud over those outside the kingdom, for we’re not called to dominate, but to serve them with love so that, through God Spirit, they might come to know the truth.
Being a Christian isn’t anything special. Being a Christian means we’ve accepted a position of servanthood. It means that we don’t trust ourselves; we trust Christ and allow him to rule our lives. Are we living our lives, as Paul asks at the beginning of this passage, in a way that’s worthy of the gospel. Or, as we say here at SIPC, are we reflecting Jesus’ face to the world? If not, what might we do differently? How might we gain the confidence needed in our faith to be bold in befriending the world? Amen.
©2018
[1] Acts 16.
[2] John 14:6.
[3] Gerald F. Hawthorne, Philippians: Word Biblical Commentary (Waco, TX: Word Books, 1983), 71.
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
Philippians 1:1-21
January 7, 2018
For the next month, I’m going to focus on Paul’s letter to the church in Philippi. Unlike many of his other letters, where there were serious issues within the church that Paul addresses, this is a friendly letter. Yes, there are some issues in Philippi, but Paul’s primary concern is to strengthen their friendship and to remind them that he’s doing well in spite of being locked up in jail. At the end of the letter, he thanks the Philippians for a gift they’d sent him through Epaphrodi, a member of their congregation. We can envision Paul, accompanied by his co-worker Timothy, penning a quick letter to give to Epaphrodi before he trekked back to Philippi. Without a postal service, he would have provided a means to promptly return thanks for the gift they’d sent.
A few things about this letter. We’re not sure where or when it was written. We know from the letter, Paul was being held in a Roman city in which the Imperial Guard had an outpost.[1] It has often been assumed this was Rome, but could have been in other cities like Caesarea or Ephesus. As for the date, it could have been written most anytime within the 50s and early 60s of the Common Era.[2]
In addition to this letter being about friendship, it’s also about joy. Think about this: despite his situation, Paul is joyful. Are we joyful when facing troubles? Should we be? Listen as I read from the first chapter, Philippians 1:1-21
Most of us, I’m sure, want to avoid prison and if we were locked up, we’d not very joyful. But prisons have been places where powerful statements have been made. Think of Nelson Mandela in South Africa, Martin Luther King in Birmingham, Alabama, and Detrick Bonhoeffer in Nazi Germany. In the civil rights struggle, some leaders even saw jail as a welcomed escape from the busyness of the struggle. Behind bars, they had a chance to rest, catch their breath and collect their thoughts. From there, by letters, they could encourage their followers. Perhaps this was also true for Paul.
This book within the New Testament has become known as “The Letter of Paul to the Philippians.” But take a look at the opening verse. It’s not just Paul, but Paul and Timothy. Paul, with his usual humility, puts himself and Timothy at the same level. They’re both servants and slaves of Jesus Christ. While this is a letter of friendship, it’s a friendship that’s sealed in Jesus Christ. However, the personal nature of the letter and the continual use of the first person pronoun makes it clear Paul is the primary author of the letter.[3]
Philippians follows a traditional ancient form for letters. The opening lines tells us who’s being addressed within the letter, from whom the letter has come, and a greeting. In many of Paul’s other letters, he cites his credentials here. But with this letter, that’s not necessary. We wouldn’t write a letter to a spouse saying “I’m your husband or wife,” or to a child saying, “I’m your father,” or to a friend citing that I’m your friend, unless we were being very sarcastic or trying to make a cruel point. This letter is addressed to people Paul and Timothy know well. Although known to the Philippians, Paul doesn’t want the letter to focus only on himself so he greets his readers in the name of Jesus Christ. At its primary level, this is a letter about Jesus.
After the opening salutation, Paul follows with a section of the letter that is a tradition for him. In every Pauline letter, with the exception of Galatians, Paul has an opening section where he offers Thanksgiving for those he’s addressing.[4] Paul is fond of the people in Philippi, noting that every time he thinks about them, he offers a prayer of thanksgiving. In this section of the letter, we learn more of Paul’s gratitude and affection for the Philippians. Again, as in his salutation, the focus is ultimately not on the author or recipient of the letter, but on the work of God in Jesus Christ in which they’re involved. Yes, Paul is thankful they have stuck with him, even while he’s imprisoned. After all, he spent his first night in jail in Philippi![5] So Paul being locked up isn’t anything new for them. Paul finishes this section of Thanksgiving, as he often does, with a prayer for those to whom the letter is addressed.
The body of the letter begins with verse 12. Paul now addresses his situation. Instead of complaining about prison food or how the iron shackles are rubbing blisters on his ankles, Paul continues giving thanks. In fact, Paul now understands that his incarceration is having the opposite effect from what his enemies wanted. If they thought that locking Paul up was going to end his ministry, they were wrong. Instead, Paul now has an opportunity to preach and teach the Roman soldiers guarding him. And those believers who are near Paul witness the strength of his faith and therefore their faith is strengthened. Paul’s attitude, while in chains, is giving voice to others who are continuing the work of proclaiming Jesus Christ.
We learn that there are two kind of preachers who are filling the gap following Paul’s arrest. There are some who desire the spotlight and may even be secretly glad that the Apostle is locked up. To them, it’s a competition. They’re not really doing ministry for the right reasons. They’re more like the Pharisee Jesus pointed to, who prayed loud and publicly.[6] But there are others, coming behind Paul, who are motivated for the right reasons, out of love. Paul decides he’s not going to worry about the first group, and just be glad that those spotlight-grabbers are talking about Jesus. Of course, those in the second group, who love Jesus and want others to have what they have, warms Paul’s heart. But because both are preaching Jesus Christ, God can use them both to further his work. Sometimes, especially in my profession, people think that everything is on their shoulders and forget that God can take even our failures and use them for his glory and edification.
Paul is also at peace because he knows how things are going to turn out. God’s got this under control. Even while he is imprisoned because of his faith in Jesus Christ, Paul knows that the spread of the gospel isn’t up to him. It’s in God’s hands. God is going to make sure Jesus’s message is heard. Paul is so confident of his message that he is not worried if he lives or dies. If he lives, great, he can keep doing the work to which he’s been called. If he dies, great, he can be with Christ.
As followers of Jesus, we have a divine purpose. We are to be about seeking out and doing God’s will in the world. When we are jealous of others, it’s often because we are focused on ourselves and our own ego and not on what God wants us to be doing. God has given us each talents which are to be used in building up the kingdom. If we use them in purposeful way, we should be satisfied with and joyful in our work. We should also trust that God has called others to do the work of the kingdom. It takes all types.
There’s an attitude that Paul expresses in this letter that I wish we could all embrace. Think about it. We get uptight. We often see ourselves in competition. We want to be better and to be seen as better, which can be a good motivator as long as we want to do the best for Jesus Christ. When we want to be the best for selfish reasons, so that we look good, so that we look better than them (whoever “they” are), we miss the point. God still might use us to do important work, but in our hearts, are we really concerned for others? We are to do what we can, as did Paul, but we must trust the future to God?
A second thing we should learn from this passage is that God can even take our misfortunes and use them for a great glory. Bad can come from good. Hopefully none of us will ever experience prison for Jesus, and certainly not martyrdom, but in the course of human history those who have suffered so for their faith have been an inspiration. John Knox, the leader of the Protestant Reformation in Scotland, was fortified with zeal when his mentor, George Wishart, the man who led him to see the truth of Jesus Christ, was burned at the stake in St. Andrews. When others see that we hold true to our beliefs in Jesus, even when it means we suffer, we become a powerful testimony. As Paul states in this passage, even his guards are curious about this faith. They want to know why Paul is willing to suffer so for his beliefs. They listen to him with willing ears. God has a way of turning earthly misfortune into eternal treasure.
Think about this in the context in which we live. We don’t have to worry about persecution or imprisonment, at least not yet in America. But when others who are not believers see that we are true to our faith and watch as we seek to live as Jesus’ disciples, we make a positive witness. When they see us being honest and truthful, willing for forgo short-term gains because it would force us to act in way contrary to our faith, we reflect Jesus’ face to the world. Consider your actions? Do your deeds provide a good witness to Jesus? Think about your joy. Are you content with what God is doing through you to bring about a positive change in the world? Can you be happy, even when suffering, ‘cause you trust that God’s got this?
We must live noble lives, be thankful for what Jesus Christ has done for us, and trust that God has called us to a divine purpose. If we do, believe, and trust, we can experience joy despite our situation. Amen.
©2018
[1] Philippians 1:13.
[2] Gerald F. Hawthorne, Philippians: Word Biblical Commentary (Waco, TX: Word, 1983), xxxvi-xliv.
[3] Hawthorne, 3-4.
[4] Fred Craddock, Philippians: Interpretation, A Biblical Commentary for Preaching and Teaching (Atlanta: John Knox Press, 1985), 3.
[5] Acts 16:16ff.
[6] Luke 18:10-12.
I am basing this series on an article in Reformed Worship.
JEFF GARRISON
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
Christmas Eve Homily 2017
Luke 2:1-15
In this past Thursday’s Wall Street Journal, there was an article I hope you saw, titled “The Salvation of ‘Napalm Girl’”. When I saw “Napalm Girl,” I knew who this was although I didn’t know her name. Those of us old enough to remember anything from the early 70s remember that tragic photo of a young Vietnamese girl running and screaming, her clothes having been burn off by napalm. That girl, Ms. Kim, is now in her mid-50s. In the article, she tells about her bitterness. She still receives treatment for the burns. But she also tells about how, a decade after the event, when she would have been nineteen, she attended a small church in Vietnam on Christmas Eve. And she heard the pastor deliver a Christmas message that would be very familiar to us all. Christmas is not about the gifts that are carefully wrapped at placed under a tree. Christmas is about the gift of Jesus Christ, wrapped in human flesh… A change was coming over her life as she experienced peace for the first time.[1]
The story we are about to hear for the umpteenth time has that kind of power, the power to change lives. Listen as I read Luke 2:1-15.
###
It all seems so long ago…. The humble birth in a stable and the horrible death upon a cross… Even the glorious resurrection, as the stone of the grave was pushed aside, seems distant. Yet, something brings us back year after year. Tonight, all across our land and throughout the world, people are gathering to recall that wonderful night of so many years ago.
The year after I graduated from college, I was the night shift production supervisor in a bakery. There was something strange about going to work late in the evening, driving by houses as lights are being turned off. I would think about those people settling in for the night and would feel strange. I was the odd one, laboring throughout the night. From that experience, I know how the shepherds must have felt, as they sat on a hillside overlooking the city and watched the lights in the houses below slowly extinguish.
The night was lonely. Furthermore, being a shepherd wasn’t exactly a romantic job in first century Palestine. People looked down on them. If there was ever a group of people needing a Savior, it was the shepherds early in the morning, when the air was the coldest and they felt as isolated as ever.
Over and over again we hear the words of the angels to the shepherds: “Do not be afraid; for see—I’m bringing you good news of great joy for all the people, to you is born this day in the city of David, a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord.”
Perhaps the message was given to the shepherds because they were the only ones awake that night around Bethlehem. But more likely, since our God is merciful and all-knowing, the shepherds witnessed the angel’s song because they needed to hear it. They needed to experience something wonderful in their drab lives. Even though the shepherds continued to watch over sheep in the days and years afterwards, their lives were changed. After a storm, when the clouds were breaking and the moon shined brightly, they recalled another night when the heavens glowed brightly and would be warmed inside for they knew that God loved them.
But the herald of the angels was not just for the shepherds. The good was and is for “all the people,” for you and for me, for God has come in the flesh. Sometimes we are tempted to forget this wonderful news and need to be reminded. Such is the purpose of Christmas. It is a time to be remind of not only Christ’s wonderful birth, but also his death which atoned for our sins and his glorious resurrection in which we have our hope.
In a poem titled “The Cross in the Manger, Ann Weems, a Christian poet, writes:
If there is no cross in the manger,
there is no Christmas.
If the Babe doesn’t become the Adult,
there is no Bethlehem star.
If there is no commitment in us,
there are no Wise Men Searching…
Her poem continues on and ends:
For if there is no reconciliation,
we cannot call Christ “Prince of Peace.”
If there is no goodwill toward others,
it can all be packed away in boxes for another year.
If there is no forgiveness in us,
there is no cause for celebration.
If we cannot go now even unto Golgotha,
there is no Christmas in us.
If Christmas is not now,
if Christ is not born into the everyday present,
then what is all the noise about?
Let me tell you a story and give you something to think about as you go home this evening. Once upon a time a country ruled by a king was invaded by a foreign army. The king was killed, but his loyal servants rescued his children and placed them with peasant families in the countryside where they would be safe. The youngest daughter was just an infant and never knew she was the daughter of a king. She grew up with a family in poverty, digging potatoes for a living.
One day an old woman approached the now young woman as she was digging potatoes. The old woman asked, “Do you know who you are?” The young woman said, “Yes, I’m the farmer’s daughter and a potato digger.”
“No, no,” the old woman said, “you are the daughter of a king.” Then the old woman then disappeared into the forest.
“Am I the daughter of a king?” the woman asked herself. The next day, she still dug potatoes, but she dug them differently. She held her shoulders up high and there a light in her eye because she knew who she was. She was the daughter of a king.
Friends, because of Jesus Christ, we, like the shepherds, have been adopted as children of the Most High King. Being daughters and sons of the king is a high and holy calling which should be evident in our words and deeds. The way we carry ourselves and the way we celebrate should be a sign of God’s grace. Live as a child of the King. Take in this story and like Ms. Kim, let it change your life. Glory to God in the highest. Amen.
©2017
[1] Kim Phuc Phan Thi, “The Salvation of ‘Napalm Girl’”, The Wall Street Journal, (Friday, December 22, 2017), A15.
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
Fourth Sunday of Advent: Mark 1:1-8
December 24, 2017
This is a weird day thanks to the way Christmas falls this year. As with most churches, we celebrate Christmas on Christmas Eve at night. But this morning, we’re not quite there. Don’t jump the gun on your celebrations just yet. It’s not Christmas, but the fourth Sunday of Advent. We’re still waiting and as we’ve done through this season of Advent, we’re looking at passages from Mark’s gospel to give us a better view of this world in to which Jesus came. This morning we’re looking at John the Baptist. He plays an important role and if I’d followed the traditional readings of Advent, he’d take top billing for two Sundays.
One of the Spiritual practices I enjoyed this year was listening daily to the Advent readings and prayers developed by the Church of Scotland, our mother church. I highly recommend these short videos as they are well done. Before reading the gospel text, let’s watch this video about John.
Video Link:
Read Mark 1:1-8
I’m sure many of you know that Mark skips over the infant narratives of Jesus as found in Matthew’s and Luke’s gospels. In Mark, as in John, there are no stories of humble mangers, gawking shepherds, or gift-bearing Magi. But all four Gospels have stories of the wild man in the desert. Before we can get to that cuddly red-cheeked baby, we encounter John.
John’s not the kind of dude you’d invite to a Christmas cocktail party. Could you image him in such a setting? Not exactly dressed to impressed, his camel-haired clothing isn’t a fancy sports coat. And heaven help you if he brought a dish to pass. Expect it to be an appetizer consisting of dead bugs soaked in honey (and I bet there’s not nearly enough honey for my taste). And the small polite talk in the parlor will soon be interrupted as John starts pointing out people’s sins. He’s known to call folks a brood of vipers,[1] which wouldn’t exactly endear him to other guests. When he starts preaching and waving his arms, he’ll knock over drinks and offend guests. I’m pretty sure you won’t make the mistake and invite John back the next year. That’s probably be okay with him. He has problems with polite society.
“The beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God,” Mark’s gospel begins. From the very first sentence, we are told this is a story of Jesus, but as I said, gospel writer doesn’t take us there right away, we have to first encounter John. But before dealing with him, let’s look at this opening sentence which sets the stage. It’s important for us to understand this sentence in the context it was written. First of all, “the beginning” takes us back to “In the beginning,” at the opening of Genesis. We’re reminded that the beginning starts with God’s action leading to creation, just as the coming of Jesus is a God-act. God is doing something new.
God’s action is reason for the good news, or the gospel as it can also be translated. However, the Greek word here (evangel from which we get the word evangelical) doesn’t come from scripture. Before it was a Biblical word, it was a political word. We associate it with “joyful tidings,” but so did the Romans of the first century who would celebrate when Caesar approached. In year 9, decades before the Gospels were penned, a calendar found in Asia Minor noted Caesar Augustus’ birthday with the inscription, “the beginning of joyful tidings.” In the Roman world, this term marked a new political situation in the world. Drawing upon this, Mark makes it clear that Jesus’ coming is a new situation for the world to celebrate. Just as the church took the Roman cross, a symbol of torture and shame, and reinterpreted it as a symbol of freedom, the good news no longer applies to Rome but to Jesus.
It’s Jesus, not Caesar. Jesus is the good news. Drawing on the prophetic tradition, the gospel writer proclaims that Jesus is the promised one. But before Jesus comes, the world must be prepared and this is where John the Baptizer enters.[2]
The gospel of Jesus Christ begins, not in a manager, but out in the desert with this wild man.[3] Like a coyote, he’s a voice crying in the wilderness. He’s an Elijah, the prophet who was nurtured by ravens, the prophet who found solace in the desert. [4] He has come to prepare the way. He’s the prophet that calls us to leave all that is comfortable behind and to travel into the wilderness. And we’re not going to a spa. When we arrive at those muddy banks along the Jordan, we’ll have to confront our sin so that we might repent and be baptized. He’s also the prophet who knew his place. He wasn’t the one coming, just the one who opens the door for the Messiah.
John was a prophet who came into a silent world. Israel hadn’t had any prophets in centuries. Were their prayers being heard? Being answered? I am sure many of the Jews were wondering if they’d been abandoned as they felt they had for four hundred years in Egypt. But then John is heard bellowing in the wilderness, telling people to prepare for and to expect the coming of the Lord. His message was heard as people flocked out to the Jordan, where they were called to repent and, as they came up from the waters of baptism, to start a new life.
John was a humble man. He didn’t exploit his popularity. He stayed focused to his mission, noting that the one coming was so great that he wouldn’t be worthy to untie his shoes. John didn’t even think himself worthy of serving as Jesus slave. Yet, we know that like John, Jesus, too, was humble. Although born a king, he didn’t exploit his position but assumed the position of a servant, washing the feet of his disciples.[5] There’s a lot we can learn from these two men and how they handled the power bestowed upon them.
Advent is a season of knowing we’re in trouble and we need a Savior. But as the Savior came that first time, on his own terms, not in a way expected by the powers-that-be in Jerusalem, so too he will come to us on his terms. We must prepare ourselves. We must make room in our hearts in and our lives in order to receive the child born in Bethlehem. But we can’t stop there for we must remember that that child grew up and walked the dusty roads of Galilee, calling people to follow him. And that man taught the disciples and the multitudes to love God and neighbor, to show mercy, and to be at peace. Tonight we celebrate his birth, his coming, but for the rest of our live we’re called to follow him and to live as he taught.
John was sent with a mission. He was to point to Jesus. Jesus calls us for a mission, too. We are to point to him and to continue to do the work he started there is Galilee. This season, as we enjoy the lights and the joy around the tree and at the table, let us not forget that we are celebrating the birth of a King and a Savior. Let us not forget that we live for him. Like John, we’re not worthy of untying his sandals, but Jesus loves us enough that he’s willing to wash out feet, to wash our sins away. Jesus loves us enough he’s willing for us to be his adopted brothers and sisters. And Jesus is the hope we, as Christians, have for the world. Let us prepare a place for him in our hearts so that we can show his love, reflect his face to the world. Amen.
©2017
[1] Matthew 3:7 and Luke 3:7.
[2] William L. Lane, The New International Commentary on the New Testament: The Gospel of Mark (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1974), 42-43.
[3] Scott Hoezee, Elizabeth Steele and Carrie Steenwyk, “Living in Advent: Worship Ideas for the Gospel of Mark,” Reformed Worship #89 (September 2011), 10-11.
[4] See Mark 9:11-13. See also Malachi 4:5-6 and 1Kings 17:5-6.
[5] Philippians 2:6-7, John 13:3-11.
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
Mark 13:24-37
December 17, 2017
Sarah and her thirteen-year-old sister have been fighting a lot this year. This happens when you combine a headstrong two-year-old, who is sure she’s always right, with a young adolescent, who knows she’s right. Sarah’s parents, trying to take advantage of her newfound interest in Santa Claus, reminded the two-year-old that Santa’s watching and doesn’t like it when children fight. It has had little impact.
“I’ll just have to tell Santa about your misbehavior,” her mother said one evening as she picked up the phone and dialed. Sarah’s eyes grew big as her mother asked “Mrs. Claus” (really Sarah’s aunt) “could put Santa on the line.” Sarah’s mouth dropped as her Mom described to Santa (really Sarah’s uncle) how the two-year-old was acting. When Mom said that Santa wanted to talk to her, the toddler reluctantly took the phone.
Santa, in a deepened voice, explained to her how there would be no presents Christmas morning to children who fought with their sisters. He would be watching, and he expected things to be better from now on. Sarah, her eyes even wider, solemnly nodded and then silently hung the phone up. After a long moment, Mom (holding back laughter at being so clever) asked, “What did Santa say to you, dear?”
In almost a whisper, Sarah sadly but matter-of-factly stated, “Santa said he won’t be bringing toys to my sister this year.”[1]
I think we’re a lot like Sarah. We like to read into situations that we are in the right and they (a sister, someone else, or some other group of people) are wrong. But Scripture reminds us that there is a problem in the world (called sin) and we (as sinners) are a part of the problem which is why we need a Savior. We must be careful at making ourselves out as righteous and others as being in the wrong.
Today, we are looking at the ending of the 13th Chapter of Mark’s gospel. This chapter has an apocalyptic flavor. Last week, we looked at the opening where Jesus warned about the destruction of the temple in Jerusalem. He continued on discussing the tribulations that his followers would face during this time of the temple’s destruction. Then he moves to discussing the Son of Man’s return. This has generally be interpreted as Jesus’ return at the end of history, but if so, he doesn’t give us any clear understanding as to when it will happen, only that we are called to be ready.[2]
When you leave today, know two things. As sinners, we’re all in this together. As Christians, we long for Christ’s return. And we are to be ready for that event at the end of history. Read Mark 13:24-37.
Keep awake… As a child, that used to be so hard. Sermons were the worse. My eyes would be heavy. School was also another difficult time to stay awake, especially in a warm classroom. Keeping awake was hard, except for on Christmas Eve, when you were told to go to sleep. It was harder to fall asleep on Christmas Eve than it was when you had planted a tooth under the pillow! You knew something magical was happening. The anticipation was high; too much was happening while we were asleep. I’d roll and roll and when my parents looked in on us, pretend to be asleep, while the clocked ticked away.
Keep awake, you don’t know when this is all going to happen and when the Son of Man might appear. It’s been almost 2000 years since Christ left—that must be the reason there is a lot of insomnia going around. But we’re weary of waiting. It’s not something we’re good at doing. We fret when we are in the doctor’s office for too long. We stew when we get behind a slow driver along the Diamond Causeway. We brood if a waitress or waiter in a restaurant is inefficient. Waiting makes us feel out of control, unimportant, unwanted and helpless. Yet, we have to wait all the time. Children wait for Christmas morning. Parents wait on children to go to sleep. And the more we wait, the more our blood pressure rises. When is it going to all happen?
And then, Advent rolls around in the church calendar. A period of waiting, which is counter-cultural in itself, for we are a society of people who want instant gratification. However, most people probably don’t mind waiting for Christ’s return. After all, we can put off the important things in life for another time. But that’s risky, Jesus says. That’s a gamble we shouldn’t take.
Mark provides us with a pretty gloom picture in this chapter. Certainly most of the chapter is referring to the destruction of the temple which occurred in 70 AD. It was a period of false Messiahs and great upheaval. But in verse 24, Jesus moves to discussing his return. One way of looking at this passage is how, with the temple gone, the focus is now on the Messiah, the risen Christ. The Jesus who lives in our heart and is present in the church is how God is represented in our world today. So yes, Jesus is here with us now in Spirit, but he’s also coming back in person…
In a commentary on this passage, Scott Hoezee, a friend of mine writes:
“If the first advent of Christ has any meaning whatsoever, it is only because he is coming back to judge the living and the dead. If he is not coming back, then there is nothing to celebrate at Christmas…. If ditties along the lines of ‘Have a holly jolly Christmas’ could cure what ails us in this life, then there never would have been any need for God’s Son to go through the bloody trouble of coming here in person.”[3]
As I said earlier, there is a problem in the world. As sinners, we’re a part of that problem and Christ is the solution.
Our passage begins with a description of terrible days. The sun and moon will darken and stars will be falling out of the sky… Anyone see any of the Geminids meteors the other night? I only saw one meteor streak across the sky, while taking the dog out, but it was supposedly a pretty good meteor shower. Of course, we know meteors are not stars, but they look like stars and we can see why such showers were frightening to those in the ancient world. Mark envisions not just a darkening of the sky, but a collapse of things we take for granted.
Perhaps we need to look at this passage in a less literal way. What’s happening is that the lights need to be lowered as a way that all the light can be focused on the one coming—Jesus Christ. The distractions need to be removed so that everyone pays attention to what’s happening. The scene is scary and wonderful at the same time. It’s God’s great and final drama in history.
Think about being in a theater. At the beginning of a play or concert, the house lights are dimmed so the audience can only see the performance. The lights are dimmed so that everyone will be focused on Christ.
This return involves the gathering of the elect, the faithful, those chosen by God through Christ. Those who have been faithful are brought into Christ’s presence.
Jesus then returns to the question that started this discourse, about when these things (such as the destruction of the temple) will occur. He uses a fig tree as a lesson. Just a day or two beforehand, Jesus had cursed a fig tree that was not providing fruit, and the tree shriveled up and died.[4] The fig tree was often used by the Prophets as a symbol of Israel.[5] Now, instead of a fig tree withering, he speaks of when it blooms, which is later that most trees, in early summer. The budding of the fig tree is a sign of when this is happening, probably refers to Jesus the Messiah rising into prominence as the temple, which will soon be no more, fades from history. In the future, God will not be seen in relationship to the temple (for with the temple gone, where would that leave God?). Instead, God is seen through his Son, our Lord, Jesus Christ. The fig tree which appears dead in winter, puts forth new sprouts and is alive. Christ, who was dead, is resurrected.
Jesus doesn’t give an exact time for this to happen, instead he points to what will happen.
Our passage moves on to the final section where Jesus insists that what’s important isn’t that we know when all this will take place (much of which took place before the end of the first century). Yet, we are still waiting for his return. What’s important is that we are ready. “Keep awake,” this chapter ends, or as The Message translates the ending verse, “Stay at your post. Keep watch.” As one commentator on this passage writes, “vigilance, not calculation, is required.”[6]
The use of the story about the slaves or servants waiting on the master implies that they have assignments and must be willing to fulfill their calling while the Master is away. Interestingly, with this section in Mark’s gospel, relating to the Master’s return, there are no signs given. The slaves don’t know, so they must continue with their tasks… Likewise, each member of the church has work to do (by the way, we’re all called) and by doing that for which we’ve been called, we fulfill our obligation to “watch.”[7]
Christ has come, Christ will come again. But until he does, we are to be his hands and feet in the world, taking care of one another while telling his story so that others will catch a glimpse of the hope the world has in Jesus Christ and be ready. As The Message translation reminds us, “Stay at our post” so we might be ready when Christ comes. Come, Lord Jesus, Come. Amen.
©2017
[1] http://www.humormatters.com/holidays/Christmas/xmasjokes.htm
[2] Some scholars suggest that this passage is primarily focused on Jesus’ resurrected glory. See N. T. Wright, Surprised by Scripture: Engaging Contemporary Issues (New York: HarperCollins, 2014), 97.
[3] Scott Hoezee, Elizabeth Steele Halstead, Carrie Steenwyk, “Living in Advent: Worship Ideas from the Gospel of Mark” Reformed Worship 89 (September 2008), 9.
[4] Mark 11:12-14, 20-21. Morna D. Hooker, Black’s New Testament Commentaries: The Gospel According to Saint Mark (London: A. C. Black Limited, 1991), 320.
[5] See Jeremiah 8:13, Hosea 9:10, Joel 1:7, Micah 7:1. See footnotes for Mark 11:12-14 in The New Interpreters Study Bible (Abingdon Press, 2003).
[6] William L. Lane, The Gospel of Mark: The New International Commentary on the New Testament (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1974), 482.
[7] Hooker 322. See also Lane, 484.
This morning I was one of three wise guys to present a short seasonal talk at the Skidaway Island Kiwanis Club. I was honored to share the podium with Pastor Jason Talness of Messiah Lutheran (he’s from Minnesota and a Viking fan) and Rabbi Robert Haas of Mickve Israel (who is also a stand-up comedian).
Kiwanis Club Talk on Inspiration
Jeff Garrison
December 14, 2017
One of the occupational hazards of being a Presbyterian minister is that I cannot stand before a group of people to talk without focusing on a Bible passage. It’s what we do. If I was Baptist, I’d have a supply of water and probably be making an altar call. If I was a Lutheran from Minnesota, I’d probably be touting some made-up virtue of godless-Vikings and suggesting that the significance of the purple color of Advent is deeper than its liturgical meaning. And if I was Jewish, I’d be thanking God for one of those hats, a yamaka, like Rabbi Haas wears. I don’t understand our God. Robert has nearly a full head of hair and has to hide it. Me, well, I’m just trying to figure out how to make such a head covering a part of my religious tradition.
My Bible verse for the morning comes from the Hebrew portion of our Bible… See, Robert, I’m trying hard to earn one of those caps. Isaiah 11:6-9:
The wolf shall live with the lamb,
the leopard shall lie down with the kid,
the calf and the lion and the fatling together,
and a little child shall lead them.
The cow and the bear shall graze,
their young shall lie down together;
and the lion shall eat straw like the ox.
The nursing child shall play over the hole of the asp,
and the weaned child shall put its hand on the adder’s den.
They will not hurt or destroy
on all my holy mountain…
The painting I displayed as a backdrop was based on this verse in Scripture. It was one of over a hundred variations of “The Peaceful Kingdom” painted by the 19th Century Pennsylvanian artist Edward Hicks. With so many paintings of the same subject, you’d think he fell into a rut. But he was a Quaker, and in addition to oatmeal, peace is something they do a better job striving for than most of us. Hicks was captivated by this passage. Highlighted in each piece is a child (or in some cases, children) along with the animals depicted in the poetry of the prophet.
And a little child shall lead them…
Often, I think, we hear this passage and think we’re to follow that child. But that’s not the point. The child in Hicks’ painting as well as the one referred to in Isaiah is leading wild and dangerous animals. In our world, the parents of such a child would be charged with neglect. Who let’s their children play with wild animals? Our world is too violent, too dangerous, as was Isaiah’s. The prophet’s vision, his longing, is for the peaceful kingdom to come about, and that’s something only God can instill. For Christians, we see this beginning with a child born in a manager. We are to follow that child when he’s no longer in swaddling clothes, but crowned in righteousness, as we work to protect children and strive for a peaceful world as envisioned by the prophet. We have our work cut out for us.
For Christians, Christmas remains a season for children. My best memories of the season is as a child. I didn’t have to worry about sermons back then. And what few gifts I had to give were homemade and, I can assure you, a parent’s love is greater than a child’s skill. So for a moment, think about the holiday when you were a child.
How about that time you bravely climbed up into Santa’s lap and boldly told him you’d been a good boy or girl all year. And remember how the old man in red could still be heard laughing as your mother dragged you out of the store?
Or how about your first candlelight service on Christmas Eve, the mystery of the evening and the joy of the music filling the hour. Think about how especially proud you were when you were first able to hold a lighted candle by yourself. I know I thought I’d made the big leagues. And then, because we live in a fallen world, think about how you realized you could tip the candle just right and wax would drop, missing the guard, and plop on your sister’s hand she unsuspectingly rest it on the rail of the pew in front. I don’t know about you. I was married and with kids before my mother trusted me with another candle. My current congregation heard of my sin and took care of this problem by issuing battery powered candles.
Think of how excited you were as a child to wake up on Christmas morning and discover the treasures left under a tree. In my family, there were three of us and we’d have to all be ready at the same moment to enter the living room where the loot had been stashed by St. Nick. We never could understand how he managed this since we didn’t have a chimney.
What we did have was a Super 8 motion picture camera and my dad wanted to capture all the action. We enter the room together, only to be hit by the flood lights with an illumination of a small nuclear explosion. The camera recorded us raising our hands over our bleached out faces in order to shield our eyes. It would be another thirty minutes before our eyes adjusted enough to make out what was under the tree. But it was a magical day and we completely overlooked our parents’ exhaustion. (I never could understand why they didn’t go to bed like the rest of us on Christmas Eve.)
And those carefree Christmas Days were special. We’d play with friends and cousins, trying out everyone’s new toys. Early in the afternoon, we’d be called to a feast with an insane amount of food, which none of us were interested because we’d already been into the stuffing (that is the candy stuffed in the stockings Santa left).
That child born in Bethlehem serves as an inspiration for those of us who strive to follow him. And years later, when he was grown and wandering around the backroads of Galilee, calling the disciples and others to follow, Jesus reminded them (and us) of the importance of childhood. Jesus encourages us to hold on to the awe and innocence of a child, telling us that in order for us to enter the kingdom of Heaven, we must come as one.
As Kiwanians, thank you for helping children make and experience such memories. During this season, I encourage you to watch the children and capture some of their excitement. Then, hopefully, you’ll be inspired as Kiwanians to continue the kind of building Kiwanis is known to do with children around the world. Until God ushers in that Peaceful Kingdom, we have work to do. Thank you.
Jeff Gar
rison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
Mark 13:1-9
December 10, 2017
Advent is a time of waiting. Let’s face it; we’re not very good at it. Everything about our society wants to push us to go faster. We hear carols starting after Halloween. Why, cause some ad man or woman thinks it will lure us into buying presents. But the season of Advent tells us to hold on, to wait, don’t get all excited, not just yet. Remember, the Jews waited centuries for the Messiah. And we’re waiting for his return even as we wait to celebrate a birth that happened a long time ago.
Wait, be patient, things are happening that we don’t fully understand. Wait, be patient and trust for God has things under control. Wait, be patient, it’s a good spiritual discipline. Advent hymns express our waiting, our longing, our desires, our awe and our fear. “Come Thou Long Expected Jesus,” “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel,” “Let all mortal flesh keep silence, and with fear and trembling stand.” Yes, Christmas is a season of joy, but first, we have to prepare ourselves as we wait in awe of what God is doing.
This Advent I’m having us look at passages from Mark’s gospel that challenge us to be ready for the Messiah. You know, Jesus surprised people when he first came. That’ll probably be true for his return, too. In our reading this morning, we are reminded that following Jesus isn’t always going to be easy. We’re going to be tempted to turn away, to try to find a smoother road. But we are to endure, to remain faithful, to trust in our Savior.
There is an old Peanuts cartoon where Lucy and Linus are looking out of the window into the rain, kind of like many of us have been doing much of the past week. Lucy expresses her concern that the whole world might flood. Linus assures her that that won’t happen because of God’s promise in the 9th Chapter of Genesis, when the rainbow was placed in the sky. Lucy, relieved, thanked Linus for taking a great load off her mind. Linus responds, “Sound theology will do that.”
Sounds theology reminds us that God is in control and we’re to trust the Lord in all things. Read Mark 13:1-9.
Having made their way from Galilee down to Jerusalem, the disciples are kind of like Private Gomer Pyle on leave in New York City. Reading this passage, I can almost hear a wide-eyed Peter say Gawwww-leeeee, as he gawks and cranes his neck looking up at the skyscrapers. Stopping at every intersection, he uses one of those obnoxious sticks to take selfies with his cell phone. Or maybe he’d be like Jeffro Bodine, driving the Clampet family’s old jalopy from Tennessee to Hollywood in the Beverly Hillbillies. The “country bumpkin” who is amazed by urban Los Angeles. These old shows gave us plenty of laughs and sadly most of the actors are no longer with us. Jim Nabors, who played Gomer Pyle, died just a couple weeks ago.
In our passage this morning, the disciples are awe-struck at the temple. Like Gormer and the Jeffro, they’re the country-bumpkins” who’d come down from Galilee and are amazed. They had reason to be. Herod’s temple was built with massive stones measuring up to 67 ½ feet in length, 7 ½ feet in height and 18 feet in width.[1] In the days without heavy equipment, to see such massive stones incorporated into the temple’s beautiful construction was awe-inspiring. That is, awe-inspiring to everyone but Jesus. The disciples walk in amazement while Jesus just kinds of shrugs his shoulders and says it’ll end up a pile of rubble. “You got to be kidding us, Jesus,” the disciples probably thought. His words put a damper on the disciples’ enthusiasm.[2]
We can image the disciples following Jesus out of Jerusalem in silence, shaking their heads. They head to the Mount of Olives, where they have a panoramic view of Old City and the temple. There, four of the disciples pull Jesus aside. Still in shock, they ask about what he said and when is it going to happen. Interestingly, Jesus doesn’t directly answer their question and say this will happen in forty years. Or that in 70 AD the Romans, who’d been kicked out of Israel four years earlier, will come back with a vengeance. They’ll recapture the city, build hot fires under the stones so that they blow apart. And then, using captured Jews who had been enslaved, they’ll spread the rocks out so that nothing much remains of the temple.
You know, the Romans had a way of teaching their enemies a lesson, of getting rid of the icons of those nations who challenged them. Remember Carthage? They not only destroyed the city but sowed salt into the ground so that nothing would grow there. The destruction of the temple created a significant challenge for Jews and Christians. No longer did they have a central place of worship and focus. Until this time, the church and along with Jewish believers looked to Jerusalem. The church had been spreading throughout the empire, but after the destruction of Jerusalem and the temple, the focus for the church moved away from Jerusalem, to Antioch and Alexander and eventually Constantinople and Rome.
But Jesus doesn’t tell the disciples when this is going to happen. Instead he uses this moment to warn the disciples that the future will not be all rosy. There is going to be some serious trouble and he wants the disciples to be ready so that they’ll remain faithful and not be deceived by others who come along with a better proposal. When trouble happens isn’t important. How we face challenges, as Christians, is important. Do we remain faithful in times of trouble, or are we lured away from our Savior?
In a way, this is a passage about trust. Will the disciples place their trust in these seemingly indestructible walls crafted out of stone and laden with gold? Or will they place their trust in him, in Jesus? And where do we place our trust? In that which we build? In that which appears solid? Or in Jesus?
One of our problems (a problem of humanity) is that we tend to have short attention spans. Despite the advertisements about investing for the long-term, we tend to take short-term views. We want to know what someone is going to do for us right now, in the moment. We don’t like to wait. If someone promises us that we don’t have wait, that we can have it now, that we can have our cake and eat it too, we’re gonna listen and be tempted to follow. It may sound too good to be true (and probably is), but that’s what we want, that’s what we feel we deserve, or so we think. But Jesus wants us to be loyal to him, to trust him, and not be misled by false prophets and messiahs.
Interestingly, in our text this morning, Jesus tells us that there will be wars and rumors of wars, which has been pretty much true for all of human history. Yeah, we might get a decade or two without a major war, but that’s about it. But these wars, which happen all the time, don’t signal the end. Yes, nations will rise against nations, kingdoms against kingdoms, along with earthquakes and famines. We see it, don’t we? But when hasn’t the earth seen such troubles. Our only advantage today is that wars and the earthquakes (along with fires and volcanoes and other disasters) are brought into our living rooms on TV and through the internet. They’ve always been happening, it’s just that we’re able to know about them faster today than ever before. So we need to be careful about pointing to any set of events as being precursors to the end.
But get this. Jesus doesn’t say that the end of time will come on the heels of such disasters, but that such signs will just be the beginning of the birth pangs. Birth pangs… now we are taken back to Mary and that long journey to Bethlehem. Think about this. Although birth pangs are not pleasant (of course, as you know, I’ve not experienced them firsthand), they are actually a hopeful sign. Because after all the pain comes that cry of a newborn, a child, a new life. And with that cry comes joy. So instead of us worrying about the troubles we face, we rejoice for we know that there is something glorious is happening. From the perspective of a birth, this isn’t necessarily a gloomy passage. Yes, there will be trouble, but God’s got this under control.
Trust. Believe. Live in hope. But don’t be surprised if you find yourself persecuted and abused because of your belief. It’s just birth pangs. God’s got this! Jesus doesn’t want his disciples to be running around afraid, even though many of them were handed over to councils and beaten in the synagogues. Jesus wants them to trust in him and to realize that things are working out even when there appears to be no evidence of it.
What about you? Are you afraid of the signs of the times? Worried about the end? Or do you trust God in all things? It’s hard, but it is our calling.
Be strengthened by these words from Teresa of Avila, a Spanish mystic in the 16th Century:
Let nothing disturb you.
Let nothing frighten you.
Though all things pass,
God does not change.
Patience wins all things.
But he lacks nothing who possesses God;
For God alone suffice. Amen.
[1] Josephus gives two different dimensions in his writings. 45x5x6 cubits and 25x8x12 cubits. A cubit is roughly 18 inches. See Morna D. Hooker, The Gospel According to Saint Mark (1991, London: Hendrickson Publishing 1997), 304.
[2] See Scott Hoezee, Elizabeth Steele Halstead, Carrie Steenwyk, “Living in Advent: Worship Ideas for the Gospel of Mark, Reformed Worship #89 (September 2008), 7.
Archibald Rutledge, Peace in the Heart (New York: Doubleday & Co, 1930), 316 pages, no illustrations
Margaret Reagan introduced me to Archibald Rutledge and lent me this book. It’s the second of his books that I’ve read.
Rutledge was poet laureate of South Carolina for forty years. During his long life, he published nearly 50 books, mostly on outdoor life and poetry and wrote for a number of outdoor magazines including Field and Stream. Born in 1883 in McClellanville, SC, Rutledge grew up on Hampton Plantation. His ancestors include a long list of South Carolina royalty including a signer of the Declaration of Independence. As a child, his father, “the Colonel,” took him hunting and fishing. He attended high school in Charleston and later Union College in Schenectady, New York. Upon graduation, he taught English at Mercersburg Academy in Pennsylvania. While there, he made regular trips back to Hampton, especially during the Christmas break. In the 1930s, he moved back and devoted his life to the plantation and writing. He lived out his life at the plantation, except for the summer months when he headed to the beach or the North Carolina Mountains. Shortly before his death, he sold the plantation to the state of South Carolina. Today it is maintained as a park.
Peace in the Heart was first published in 1927. At the time, Rutledge was still teaching in Pennsylvania. There were a number of editions, the last published in 1947. Sadly it is out of print and hard to obtain. I was able to find copies of this book for sale (but with hefty price tags). There are a number of Rutledge’s other books that are still in print.
The book is a structured series of independent essays that follow the movement of the day and seasons. Rutledge starts at sunrise and spring and ends with night and winter. He finds God’s hand in the cycles of the day and the year. “[W]e who love Nature sense that all seasons are divinely ordered,” he writes. “God takes our hands gently in spring” (28)
Drawing from his keen observations of nature, Rutledge explores life. An example of his observations is seen in the interest he took in a mud-dauber” (a type of wasp) who built his dirt home on one of the beams of Rutledge’s porch. He kept knocking the dirt cave off his beams, but the wasp kept rebuilding it. Each load of sand that the wasp mined near the creek took him four minutes to obtain and with each rebuilding, the sand home took on a redder hue as the wasp increased the portion of clay, hoping to build a stronger home that would last (279-80).
Hamilton Plantation
Rutledge professes his Christian faith, but at times I wondered if his faith is more influenced by the natural world than the Word or Bible. “Face to face with Nature, we are face to face with God; and I for one believe Him to be the God of love as well as the God of law. That I cannot see Him troubles me not. I find him in His works, in His constant abundant blessings, in the nature of the human soul” (76). He thanks his Creator for supplying necessities and extras. Sunlight, air, water, food and shelter are necessities. Moonlight and starlight along with music, perfumes, flowers and the wind crooning through pines are extras to be enjoyed (15). He tells a friend who was dying, but miraculously recovered after hearing a bird sing. God “does not love us with words: He loves us by giving us everything we need in every way,” Rutledge notes. (16). While acknowledging his own sentimentalism and how nature writers are criticized for being sentimental, he wonders why it’s seen as a bad thing (68). Toward the end of the book, he reports on how a German scientist came to the conclusion that wild things cannot reason. Rutledge then sarcastically quipped, “Well, they get along remarkably in a world in which reasoning men have a pretty hard struggle to succeed” (283).
He finds the natural world so intriguing and peaceful, suggesting that nature plans for life and not death (243). Obviously he overlooks the life and death struggle animals have in the wild. Although a hunter, he doesn’t glorify the killing of animals and in one story in which he went duck hunting but left his gun on a tree by the launch, he muses how he was glad for often a man who takes a gun “eaves his heart at home” (110). He finds that by observing natural laws we can keep out of trouble, drawing on how animals know on instinct how to act (51) and that the natural world knows to obey such universal laws and not to attempt to make a bargain with the Almighty (56). While he has obviously learned much from scientists, he suggests that there are other types of questions that the scientists don’t ask. “What does this mean in terms of the spirit? What does all this beauty and intelligence suggest to the heart? What can I learn from my own soul by surveying in thoughtful love the sounds of God’s wild children” (253-4).
Moving through the day, he explores storms and issues that arises with high water levels. He finds his heart rises during storms, which is why he sees them as a blessing (78), while also providing us an opportunity to shelter others. Caring for others during their storms helps us “develop our sympathies” (86). After the storm passes, he notices how we can rejoice that we have survived and find peace (90). High water, especially where fresh water pushes into salt water, creates unique situations. He tells about a beach in South Carolina in which bathers were horrified to see a large alligator, washed out to sea in high water, delighting in riding waves in the surf (107). Interestingly, he does not include a chapter on drought and the unique ways low water levels open up new opportunities to explore.
A couple of chapters were devoted to two individuals who were influential in his life. Prince was an African American boy with whom he grew up. His family had live on the plantation as slaves. After emancipation, both of his parents worked at the plantation. His mother was the cook for 40 years and his father brought in the firewood and on the cool mornings would build fires in the hearths throughout the home. In Rutledge’s book, God’s Children, there are more stories about Prince.
The other individual to whom a chapter is devoted is Rutledge’s father. Colonel Rutledge fought in the Civil War and was the youngest Colonel in the Confederate army. He was wounded twice (at Malvern Hill and Antietam). While fighting, he had a slave with him, who saved him at Antietam, at risk of his own life and took him back to safety in Virginia. Rutledge tells of his father visiting him when he lived in Pennsylvania. They drove to the Antietam battlefield where a guide described the battle and mentioned, unknowingly, about the “gallant Colonel Henry Middleton Rutledge” of the 25th North Carolina Infantry. Afterwards, his father introduced himself to the guide (217-218). His father was a kind man and would often go to buy groceries and come back empty handed, after having given the groceries away to those in need. Living in admiration of his father, Rutledge wrote::
“What a man’s worth is in this world depends on the kind of wake he leaves behind him as he passes. If my Colonel came home empty-handed in a material way, it was because he had ‘bestowed all his goods to feed the poor.” His riches consisted not on what he brought with him but on what he left behind.” (208)
As for the slave who had saved his life, Rutledge tells his father’s story of a government agent visiting African-Americans that may have fought in the Civil War to determine their eligibility for a pension. This former slave told the agent (who was working on commission) that he was in the war all four years, omitting which side he had served during the war. To Rutledge’s father’s delight, he was granted a pension. After his wife died, he married a younger woman and at the time of the writing of this book, she was still receiving his pension (218-219).
Rutledge seems, however, to be most at home alone in the woods. He has a chapter on solitude and another on worship in the wild. He talks joy and delight in the world and the animals within it. He seems much more interested in the animal kingdom than plants, only mentioning flowers and trees in passing. But with his intimate knowledge of wildlife, he believes that God delights in the world and it’s just another example of God’s love for us. Although he doesn’t dwell on sin, Rutledge believes it’s only the human race that’s able to live “in opposition to his physical instincts” and to act as if he’s immortal (161). He does appears to have a concept of the incarnation, suggesting that the knowledge of God’s presence and love should be comforting as it means our foes are already defeated (177).
Like his book, God’s Children, there are paternalistic views that are considered politically incorrect in today’s world. This comes out mostly when he talks about his father’s friendship with his former slaves. Writing decades before the Civil Rights movement, Rutledge learned from his father that “while equality is often impossible, brotherhood never is” (210-211). He appears to accept unquestionably that equality is impossible, but his views were probably more enlightened than most during the 1920s.
I recommend this book (if you can find a copy) for I found Rutledge to be a keen observer of nature. I especially like the analogy he made between water lilies and human beings. Lilies appear to be floating on the surface, but what we don’t see is that they are tethered to the earth. We, too, need to be so anchored.
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
Mark 8:11-21, 27-31
December 3, 2017
This is a beautiful season as lights pop up around the neighborhood. I’m not much for over-top-decorations. We’re not the Griswolds.[1] But I do like to see lights. Especially simple decorations that seem to pierce the darkness of the season. On the southern end of the island, a number of people have small trees in their yards which back up to lagoons. These trees are lighted and then they reflect off the water. It’s something to behold. Looking at the reflections shimmering in the water, I pause to think of my own reflection of Jesus. I encourage you to do the same. Do our reflections pierce the darkness and offer hope?
Advent is a season for preparing for Christ’s coming. It’s comforting to think about Jesus’ first coming, the nights he spent in a manager as angels sang to shepherds and a mysterious star summoned the wise men. While Jesus started in a humble estate (and it’s important that God becomes a human), we can’t remain focused on that child sleeping on the hay. The Jesus we’re to follow doesn’t stay in the manger.
This Advent Season, we’re going to spend time with Mark’s gospel and struggle a bit with just who is this Jesus we’re called to follow. Mark doesn’t have a nativity narrative, like Matthew and Luke. Perhaps it’s because he wants to pull us away from the sleeping child to the man from Galilee. When Jesus first came, he surprised those he called and can still surprise us.
Today, we’ll begin this journey at the middle of Mark’s gospel, where we see people demanding Jesus for a sign. But will a sign make any difference? Let’s see… Read Mark 8:11-21, 27-31.
“If I can only have a sign, I’d believe…”Are we any different that the Pharisees? We want to be assured. We want to know if we’re on the right trail.
The Pharisees demand for a sign came on the heels of Jesus’ second feeding miracle (4,000 bellies filled with just seven loaves). Is that not a sign? Why is it that those who have front row seats to the greatest story on earth have a hard time believing?[2] And how about us? We don’t have a front row seat.[3] What do we need to trust Jesus?
And it’s not just the Pharisees. The disciples don’t get it either. When they leave in the boat, sailing across the lake, someone forgot to pack dinner. There is only one loaf. (Interestingly, we’re left to wonder if Jesus is this loaf. After all, he’s the bread of life.[4]).
As they sail, Jesus warns the disciples about false teachings, and the disciples are only thinking about their growling stomachs. In the ancient world, yeast was used as an illustration of sin and evil, that starts small and grows and corrupts. It’s kind of like how we say, “One rotten apple ruins the barrel.” But when Jesus mentions yeast, instead of thinking about corruption, the disciples think about bread.
Now, the text doesn’t tell us this, but I can envision Jesus standing in the middle of the boat, he’s got his sea-legs on, shaking his head. Then, after a deep breath, he asks, “Why are you talking about having no bread? Don’t you understand? Are your hearts hardened? Are your eyes not working? Are your ears clogged? Did you forget how we fed 5,000 with only five loaves and two fishes,[5] and how we fed 4,000 with just seven loaves?[6] They haven’t forgotten. They remember, but they still haven’t gotten it. They are still struggling to believe.
After they reach their destination, we have a healing story, one of a blind man regaining sight. (I skipped that in our reading.) Then Jesus leads his disciples to a gentile city, Caesarea Philippi. This Roman town, built to glorifying Caesar and filled with pagan temples, is away from the distraction of the Pharisees and other religious leaders. Interestingly, Jesus doesn’t talk about the prevalent idolatry. Nor does he condemn those who really don’t get it, the pagans. Why not, we might wonder, it’d make him and his disciples look good. We should learn from this omission! We take care of our own house first. We pull the log out of our eyes before trying to clean a speck out of the eyes of another.[7]
Instead, Jesus asks the disciples who people are saying he is. Their answer is enlightening: John the Baptist, Elijah, or another prophet. People think that Jesus is someone important. Then Jesus turns the question to them, that most important question we all have to answer, “Who do you say that I am.” It’s Peter who answers, “You are the Messiah!”
Peter’s right, you know. Jesus is the Messiah. Of course, Peter doesn’t fully understand what this means. Peter is not going to live up to his bold statement, but that’s a topic for another time.
You know, they’re lots of similarities between Christianity and the other great world religions. Our moral teachings are not much different than many of those teachings of Jews, Buddhists, Mormons, Hindus and even Islam. Most all faiths teach honesty and fairness, treating others well and taking care of the poor. As a follower of Jesus, we shouldn’t deny these similarities. Our Reformed tradition reminds us of God’s common grace given to all, believers and unbelievers. Even those who do not know Jesus Christ may do good and wonderful things and for that we should celebrate. But there is one difference that separates us from other faiths. Ours is a Christocentric religion. That is, Christ is our center. Our faith is based on the person of Jesus Christ. Our hope is in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ, the one who was both human and God. God’s saving grace is Jesus Christ. God’s truth is Jesus Christ.[8]
Our hope is not based upon a philosophy. Our hope is not based on a book, but on the revelation of Jesus Christ within this book. Our hope is not even based upon the church, as important as the organization is for getting the message out. Our hope is based solely on Jesus. And Jesus isn’t just a cuddly baby napping among the animals in a manager. That may be a Jesus we can hold in our heart. It’s okay to start out there, at the manager. But to follow Jesus means we must leave the manager. We must get up and walk behind Jesus, realizing he may go places we don’t necessarily want to go. As soon as Peter identifies Jesus as the Messiah, Jesus shoots holes in Peter’s understanding of Messiahship. For Peter, the Messiah is a King, not someone executed like a criminal. The Messiah is a warrior, not the meek Jesus who gives up his life that we might live. As Christians, our hope is in Jesus Christ, it’s all the church has to offer. Can we accept that truth? Can we handle it?
To become a Christian, we must admit our inability to save ourselves and place our trust in Jesus Christ, the Messiah. The second step is logical if we think about it. If we really believe Christ calls us, unworthy as we are, the only appropriate response can be obedience to his will. That is, we become a Christ-follower.
Henri Nouwen, a Catholic theologian, comments on these stages in his Latin American journals. “As soon as I say God exists, my existence no longer can remain in the center, because the essence of the knowledge of God reveals my own existence as deriving its total being from God’s.” [9]
What Christ asks us to do is to focus our lives on him and not on ourselves. He demands loyalty. He demands obedience. He demands that we trust him enough that we’re willing to take a risk. We’re not to seek our needs and glory, nor are we to do only that which is safe. We have to be willing to follow Christ wherever he leads. We can’t stay at the manger.
Think of following Christ from an economic perspective. If you really want to grow a business or to develop a market, you take risks. Our greatest returns, our most cherish rewards, involve risks. If we don’t take a chance, we find our competitors leaving us in the dust. If we don’t take a risk, we have little growth. It’s the same way with us personally as well as with our church. We got to have faith and be willing to step out trusting that Christ is with us. Churches always resist change, but it’s a part of taking a risk, of following where we sense Jesus is leading.
The late Will Campbell, who often referred to himself as a “Bootleg Southern Baptist,” was critical of today’s church for proclaiming, “Pick up your cross and relax.”[10] He’s right. We want a safe Jesus, snoozing in the manger. We want to wear a fashionable cross, one that’s sanitized, and feel good about it. But Mark calls us to a different Jesus.
Our faith is not easy. Yet, we’ve been given a sign. This communion table is the sign. It’s here (pointing to the table), that the man we’re to follow, nourishes us for the journey. It’s a journey that starts in a manager, but moves on the hard sunbaked path of life to the cross. Are we up to following this Jesus? Are we willing to take that risk? Amen.
©2017
[1] A reference to the National Lampoon Christmas Vacation movie, (1989) where Chevy Chase, playing Clark Griswold, wants the perfectly decorated house with enough lights it can be seen in space.
[2] The irony here is also found in John 6:30ff. Morna D. Hooker, The Gospel According to St. Mark, (London: A & C Black, 1991), 191.
[3] John 20:29.
[4] William L. Lane, The Gospel of Mark (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1974), 283.
[5] Mark 6:37-44.
[6] Mark 8:1-9.
[7] Matthew 7:3-5.
[8] John 14:6.
[9] Henri J. M. Nouwen, i Gracias: A Latin American Journal (SF: Harper & Row, 1983), 48.
[10] Will D. Campbell, Souls Among Lions (Louisville: Westminster/John Knox Press, 2002), 180.
The idea for this series based on an article by Scott Hoezee, Elizabeth Steele Halstead and Carrie Steenwyk, “Living in Advent: Worship Ideas for the Gospel of Mark,” Reformed Worship #89 (September 2008), 6-11.
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
November 26, 2017
Ezekiel 34:11-24[1]
Today is Christ the King Sunday. That may not mean much to those of us who grew up in non-liturgical churches. After all, Christ should be our king 365 days a year (366 days during leap years). You do believe that? Right?
As a day on the church calendar, Christ the King is relatively new. It didn’t come about until the mid-1920s when Pope Pius XI introduced it. Furthermore, the day was first shunned by Protestants for being too sectarian.[2] In time, however, many Protestant churches have adopted the day which falls on the last Sunday of the church’s year. Next week, with Advent, we’ll begin a new cycle in the church’s calendar.
When the Christ the King date was introduced, Pius XI was concerned over the rise of Mussolini in Italy and atheistic Communism in Russia. Both were demanding the worship of the state. A few years later, a handful of Protestants would take a turn at standing up to the state when a group of Reformed and Lutheran Church leaders in German published the Theological Declaration of Barmen in 1933. We’ll read from this Declaration as we profess our faith this morning after the sermon. For Christians, Christ is Lord and demands our ultimate allegiance.
Now, proclaiming Christ as King isn’t a new concept. Christ is proclaimed as king in scripture[3] and our Confessions lift up his kingly role as one of the three offices of Christ, the other two are the prophet and the priest.[4] To show the importance of putting Christ first, let me share a story from the past.
Hugh Latimer was the Bishop of Worcester in the 16th Century. As a Calvinist, he was a leader in the English Reformation. The King was Henry VIII, who (until he couldn’t obtain a divorce) was aligned with the Roman Catholic Church. One Sunday morning as Latimer was preparing to preach, he looked out and saw Henry sitting in the pews. “Latimer, be careful of what you say today. King Henry is here,” he heard whispered. But then, as he prepared to enter the pulpit, he whispered, “Latimer, be careful of what you say today; the King of Kings is here.”[5] Latimer would later suffer martyrdom at the hands of Mary 1, (also known as Bloody Mary). Today is a day to be reminded that we live out our lives in the presence of the true King, Jesus Christ.
My sermon this morning comes from a prophecy given to the Prophet Ezekiel. Ezekiel is addressing the Israelites in exile in Babylon and lifts up a vision of a new order, in which God becomes the “shepherd” of his people. Of course, we who live on this side of the resurrection know who the “Good Shepherd” is. Read Ezekiel 34:11-24
Do you remember Calvin and Hobbes? There was one strip where Calvin was swinging on the playground at school. The bully Moe, who looks to be twice Calvin’s age and as one who may have repeated more grades than he’d passed, calls Calvin a “Twinkie” and tells him to get off his swing. Brave Calvin responds, “Forget it, Moe, wait your turn.” Moe responds with a right punch that knocks Calvin out of the swing and onto the ground. Pulling himself together, Calvin thinks to himself, “It’s hard to be religious when certain people are never incinerated by bolts of lightning.”[6]
I expect the Israelites in exile felt the same. Where was their God when the Babylonians were storming the walls of Jerusalem? Some of the Israelites, I’m sure, lost their faith. But there were others listening and learning. Ezekiel lifts up a promise: no longer will those in power lead; no longer will those who bully and abuse continue. Instead, God will lead as a shepherd. As a true shepherd God will protect Israel. This passage contains both judgment and promise!
To fully understand this passage, we should look at the 34th chapter in its entirety. (Your homework assignment is to go home and read it this afternoon.) The whole chapter revolves around the “shepherd allegory.” Kings were often called shepherds in the ancient world. The shepherd image for a king implied one who cared and nurtured his subjects. Ezekiel uses this metaphor as a way to highlight the hypocrisy of Israel’s kings, shepherds who “enrich themselves at the expense of the flock.”[7]
A
perfect example of Ezekiel’s “bad shepherd king” would be the Czars of Russia. Not only did they ruthlessly exile those who challenged their position, they became the richest monarchs in Europe while ruling over the poorest country. I know many of you have been to the Hermitage in Saint Petersburg, Russia. The place is incredible. It’d take a week to really appreciate all the art work that was collected by the Czars. It’s one of the world’s great art collections, but as I thought (and have also heard others say the same thing after visiting the Hermitage), it’s no wonder the people revolted. A good king is not one who lives high on the hog while his subjects starve. Rather a good king is like a shepherd, one who helps protect his subjects from danger and leads in a way that they’re provided with fresh fields (or food) and running streams (or clean water). A shepherd is an appropriate name for such a leader.
Unfortunately, Israel didn’t have too many kings like this. Surely, there were some who did a better job than others, but most looked out for themselves and for their friends, allowing the abuse of their citizens. This chapter begins with a condemnation of such wicked rulers, the “shepherds who have eaten of the fat and clothed themselves with the wool of their flocks, yet have not fed the sheep.
This is what God promises beginning in the 11th verse. “I, myself,” God proclaims, “will search for my sheep.” God will be the shepherd. God will bring the people, who had been scattered at Jerusalem’s fall, back together. There will be a reversal of their misfortune. God will provide good pasture; God will strengthen the weak; God will heal the sick; God will bind the injured; God will seek the lost. By the beginning of the 16th verse, there seemed to be a balance between judgment and promise, but then there was a shift and God again speaks of judgment.
“The fat and the strong I will destroy, says God. Notice the shift: no longer is God talking about the shepherds, or the rulers. God is now addressing “sheep and goats,” members of the flock. Obviously, it’s not just the leaders who are abusing their power, but there are some “sheep and goats” who are abusing others.
Have you ever watched animals eat and notice how the weak are pushed aside by the strong? Sheep do the same thing. Sheepherders spend a lot of time with the weaker animals trying to strengthen them. If a ewe gives birth to more lambs that she can nurse, the ewe will push away the weakest lamb and the shepherd will have to take that lamb and find another ewe, another mother, for its nurse. The sheepherder has to encourage an “adoptive bond.”[8] Otherwise, the lamb will die. Likewise, when the animals are being fed, the strong ones often push away the weaker ones. Without a shepherd, strong animals are able to take advantage of the weaker animals. And we see such behavior even among us humans. Without a good teacher, bullies in the classroom intimidate other students. Without good leaders, those with economic or political clout can take advantage and oppress those without.
Now that God has judged both the shepherds who have ignored the needs of their flocks and the sheep who, in the absence of the shepherds, abused the weaker ones, God returns to the future promise of a new shepherd. God and his servant David will rule and guide the flock. David, the former shepherd who became a king, will return to be God’s prince. This is a Messianic Promise spoken to Hebrews living in exile hundreds of miles from their home. God will gather the faithful together and lead them back home, and a king like David will return and rule justly.
Have these promises of God been fulfilled? Yes, and they are continuing to be fulfilled! A new shepherd, the good shepherd, was born in the city of David—the one you and I proclaim as our Savior. We’ll celebrate his birth in five weeks! Yet, as we wait for Christmas, we’re reminded over and over that we’re still waiting and longing for the day proclaimed in scripture when Jesus Christ will rule, when all wars will cease, and every knee will bow and proclaim Christ as King. Until then, we pray, “Come, Lord Jesus, Come.”
There are a couple of things I want you to take from this passage. First, we’re reminded that there are bad shepherds and there are bad goats and sheep in the world. There are those who rule ruthlessly and those who use their power to exclude others. As followers of Jesus, we shouldn’t do that, nor do we owe such people any allegiance. Secondly, there will be a new day coming that will bring justice and hope. The bad shepherds and the bullies within the flocks will be brought to justice, as we heard in our New Testament reading from Matthew 25. We have no need to fear those who abuse, for our hope doesn’t rest in their hands, but in the hands of our loving Savior. Finally, as Christians, we’re longing for that day when Christ will return and his kingship will be visible for all to see. We’re to be lifting up this vision, reflecting the face of Jesus to the world.
If our allegiance really belongs to Jesus, if Christ really is our king, then we should be like Bishop Latimer and not fear the King Henry XIIIs who sits in our midst. Nor should we fear any other person who might be pushing us to ignore Christ and follow them. Nor should we fear the crowd who may mock our decision. If our allegiance really belongs to Jesus Christ, what is important isn’t what people around us think. We shouldn’t worry much about them. Instead, what is important is what our Lord thinks. What does our King want us to do? That’s a question we should all ponder, every day. What does Jesus want me to do? How can our lives reflect his? AMEN
©2017
[1] Parts of this sermon was taken from a sermon I preached on November 20, 2011.
[2] David I. Kertzer, The Pope and Mussolini (New York: Random House, 2014), 84.
[3] Matthew 27:11; John 1:49:1 Timothy 1:17, 6:15; Revelations 15:3, 1:9
[4] “The Westminster Larger Catechism” Questions 43-45.
[5] Robert F. Sims, “The Shepherd King,” in Under the Wings of the Almighty in “www.sermonsuite.com.
[6] Bill Watterson, Calvin and Hobbes (November 8, 1990).
[7] Margaret S. Odell, Ezekiel (Macon, GA: Smyth & Helwys, 2005), 432.
[8] When birthing lambs, a sheepherder will often smear the placenta from the lamb born of a ewe in order to entice her to accept a second lamb to nurse and feed.
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
November 19, 2017
Psalm 100
It is deer season. In other churches I’ve served, we had to schedule things like Consecration Sunday around opening day just to make sure we had some men in worship. The hunting might not start till sunrise on Monday, but there was a lot to do to get the deer camp set up; men starting disappearing early in the weekend.
One year, Bob and Tom, Bill and Fred headed out to deer camp. They camped at the base of a small mountain, at the confluence of two creeks that drained each side of the mountain. They’d their figured out their plan for opening day. Bob and Tom were to take the creek along the south side of the mountain. Bill and Fred would head up the other creek. They set out before daylight, using flashlights, searching for the perfect spot to see a big buck as he came out for a morning drink in the creek.
It didn’t work out that way for Bob and Tom. They didn’t see a thing all day. As the sun began to drop in the western sky, they headed back to camp. As they approached the confluence, they heard trashing in the brush nearby. Checking it out, they saw Bill dragging the largest buck any of them had ever seen. He called over asking for help and they obliged, dragging the deer back into camp. As they were stringing it up in a tree to gut it, Bob asked Bill, “Where’s Fred? Why didn’t he help you get this deer out of the woods?”
“Oh yeah,” Bill said, “We gotta go back and get Fred. Some other hunter mistook him for deer and shot him in the leg. He fell back and hit his head on a rock. He’s knocked out cold and lying next to the trail, about a mile back, near where I shot this fine buck.”
“Someone shot Fred?” Tom yelled. “And you just left him alone and unconscious while you dragged this deer carcass out?
Bill felt a little chastised. “Well, think about it,” he said. “Ain’t nobody gonna steal Fred.”
There are times we have our priorities mixed up. The 100th Psalm, which is my text for today’s sermon, reminds us what is important in life. It helps us to get our priorities right. When our priorities are right, things fall into place and we don’t forget the Fred’s of the world. Listen. Read Psalm 100. 
###
Joy is essential to the Christian life. It’s a gift from God and that makes it different from the pursuit of happiness we in American so cherish. What we consider as “happiness” is transitory and fragile, dependent often on external circumstances such as the Pirates winning the pennant. If that’s the case, I haven’t been happy in a long time. You see, human joy is often contradictory. Hope rises on the sound of a well hit ball. The crowd holds its collective breath as the ball sails deep. The centerfielder runs and leaps high with his glove extended as he crashes into the wall. He falls to the ground, and then stands up and grins as he pulls the ball from his glove. The home crowd moans and the batter kicks the dust as he heads toward the dugout. Some win, others lose. Some celebrate, others mope…
A friend of mine commenting on this Psalm wrote, “This Psalm tells us that the joy we find in God is unshaken and unchanging because it is based on something lasting and unchanging.”[1] Yes, there will be plenty of disappointments in life to weight us down, such as homeruns stolen by a talented centerfielder, but true joy has another foundation. True joy, of the everlasting variety, is found in God. To quote the prophet Isaiah, “the flower withers, the grass fades, but the word of God will stand forever.”[2] In other words, all we cherish and love in this life will come to an end. Flowers are beautiful only for a few days or maybe a week or two, youth lasts but for a season, friends and loved ones die. If we are looking for eternal happiness in our lives here on earth, we’ll always be disappointed.
Focus on God, on that which is eternal, and we’ll be ready to join the chorus marching into heaven making a joyful noise. “Worship,” as Eugene Peterson tweeted this week, “is the strategy by which we interrupt our preoccupation with ourselves and attend to the presence of God.”[3] We should want to worship God, to offer prayers of thanksgiving, to shout praises. Focus on God; true joy is knowing God and that we are loved by our Creator, claimed by our maker. Psalm 100 is about the joy in God which “is the motive power of faith” and which lifts up our hearts.[4]
This a Psalm of worship. It was probably originally sung by the Hebrew people as they gathered in the Jerusalem temple. The first two verses serve as a call to worship. Imagine the chief priest standing at the temple’s gate. Suddenly trumpets blast, quieting the crowd. Then, in a loud voice, the priest dressed in his finest robe summons the crowd: “Make a joyful noise, worship the Lord with gladness, and come into his presence with singing.” The crowd responds, breaking into a round of “Holy, Holy, Holy” or “Joyful, Joyful, We Adore Thee…”
Verse three, “Know that the Lord is God, that he made us and we are his, we are the sheep of his pasture,” reminds those who have gathered that they are present for one purpose: to worship God. God is king, but also a caring shepherd. Those gathered in front of the temple, preparing to enter, recognize they are to put away thoughts of grandeur for themselves. Furthermore, they are to put away petty differences between one another. This is not the place or time for selfishness or bickering. All who have come are to be together, in unity, in worship. We are to leave our petty differences at the door of the sanctuary. This isn’t about us; it’s about our God.
This may be a short psalm but it has a wonderful message for those of us who gather on a Sunday to worship. “Psalm 100 initiates worship and sets forth a theology of worship,” according to one commentator.[5] The focus of the Psalm, as we learn in the fourth verse is God. As the final verse indicates, we worship because God is good, loving and faithful.
The key to being a Christian is gratitude. It comes from us having our priorities right. Gratitude is not only good for our souls, it’s good for bodies according to an article in the Wall Street Journal this week. Let me quote this passage:
“Gratitude is good for us in many ways. Studies have shown that it strengthens our immune systems, helps us sleep better, reduces stress and depression and opens the door to more relationships. But to reap those rewards, we need to do more than feel grateful. ‘The word ‘thanksgiving’ means giving of thanks.’ says Dr. Emmons (a psychologist at University of California at Davis). ‘It is an action word. Gratitude requires action.’”[6]
Today we’ll receive your estimate of giving cards and this week we will be celebrating Thanksgiving. They go together. Both are opportunities to display our gratitude. Gratitude should lead into generosity. It’s a personal issue, one that we each need to struggle with and decide for ourselves. Are we generous? Are our lives gracious? Do we love God, our Creator, and want to praise him in thought, word, and deed? The Psalm calls us to worship, but our worshipful attitude should be more than just what we do on Sunday morning. Likewise, we should be thankful more than just on a Thursday late in November. Our thankfulness, our worship, should flow forth from our lives, from our hearts. It’s what should be most evident when others see us. It’s what helps us reflect Jesus’ face to the world. Amen.
©2017
[1] Laura Smit, “Come, Let Us Worship and Bow Down,” Reformed Worship, #52 (June 1999), 14.
[2] Isaiah 40:7.
[3] Eugene Peterson (tweeted @PetersonDaily, November 12, 2017).
[4] Artur Weiser, The Psalms, Herbert Hartwell translator, (Philadelphia: Westminster, 1962), 645.
[5] James L. Mays, Psalms (Louisville: John Knox Press, 1994), 321
[6] Clare Ansberry, “Cultivating a Life of Gratitude, The Wall Street Journal (November 14, 2017), A15.
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
Leviticus 23:9-14
November 12, 2017
Confession, the picture is not China, it’s Indonesia
There was once a Chinese rice farmer whose paddies were high on a hill overlooking the ocean. One day during harvest, there was an earthquake. He looked around and noticed the ocean had drawn back and was lurching like an animal ready to pounce. He knew this meant one thing, a tidal wave, a tsunami. Down below, in the lower levels, other farmers were also gathering their harvest, unaware of the danger. With no time to run down to warn them, he set fire to his drying sheaves of rice, sending up a plume of smoke. His neighbors, seeing the smoke, assumed his field had caught fire and rushed up the mountain to help him save his harvest. As they arrived, they look back down and saw the ocean sweep over their fields. He sacrificed his crop for their safety. They knew what it meant to be saved, and its cost.[1] Today, we’ll learn about the importance of sacrifice and sheaves of grain.
The 23rd Chapter of Leviticus sets up the various festivals and feast observed in ancient Israel. The chapter begins with the Sabbath, a day of rest. Then it reminds them of the Passover. In our reading this morning, we will hear about the Festival of the First Fruits. The chapter circles around the year with the Festival of Weeks, the Festival of Trumpets, the Day of Atonement, and the Festival of Booths.
For each of the festivals as well as for the Sabbath, they were to stop working. This was a gift, not only to the Hebrews, but to their slaves. By taking these days off, they demonstrated their trust in God. The Lord was in charge. The Lord watched over them and their crops on the Sabbaths, and during the festivals. You know, we make holidays about us. On Thanksgiving, we pig out with friends and family. At Christmas we give gifts. Even Easter is a time for new clothes and a ham dinner. And while the festivals in Scripture gave the people time to rest and to enjoy certain foods, the purpose of festivals was to point the individual to the God who provides. We will see this especially in the Festival of the First Fruits. We should do the same. Read Leviticus 23:9-14.
Thanks to my wife’s intuitive and hard work, we have a plot in the community garden. Last spring, when we were setting it up and planting, I couldn’t wait to start harvesting tomatoes. A large vine-ripened tomato is about as close to heaven as we’ll come to in this life. Planting the tomatoes, I could tasted them. I took care to wrap a piece of paper around the stalks of the young plants when I transplanted them, to deter cutworms. I watered them and watched the plants grown, envisioning a hefty ripe beefsteak tomato. I’d carefully peel the tomato, then slice it at least an inch thick. Next, I’d take some soft bread, lathering it up with mayonnaise, adding a good bit of freshly ground black pepper and make a sandwich. I’m a simple man. A good tomato sandwich is hard to beat. To bite into such a sandwich and have a little tomato juice run from the corners of my mouth, which has to be wiped away with a napkin, is to experience true joy.
Attempting not to add any more heat into the house, I did the canning on the back deck!
We had a good harvest of tomatoes last summer. The best ones, especially early in the harvest, I saved for sandwiches. Then I kept a bunch which I made into salsa and canned for winter. But the tomatoes kept coming and I was heading out of town. There wasn’t an opportunity for another canning session, so I brought a box of tomatoes to church and gave them away. According to Leviticus, I did all this backwards. Those first tomatoes, the big juicy red ones should have gone to God…
The Israelites were to bring their first fruit to the Lord. Me, I gave away what was left! Now, granted, the text doesn’t say anything about tomatoes (it mentions grain, lamb, olive oil and wine). I can only assume that tomatoes were unknown in the Promised Land during ancient times.
In a parallel passage in Exodus, we’re told to bring “our best first fruits” to the Lord.[2] There goes that juicy tomato. I might have to wait a day or two to enjoy that first tomato sandwich of the year.
Bringing our first fruit to God seems like a heavy demand. After all, why shouldn’t we tend to our own needs and desires first? You know, in our training as a firefighter, we’re always taught that our number one responsibility is to take care of our self… There is a reason behind this madness. If we are in trouble, then we are in no position to help anyone and furthermore we become part of the problem (and resources have to be focused on us, instead of the other victims or the fire). That makes sense, because we are not God! It’s when we get to the point to think we’re God that we have a problem.
Let’s look at this from another angle. What about the future? Shouldn’t our first action be to harvest seed in order to make sure we’ll have a crop next year? I mean, should we save some of that first seed before we give any away? That’s hedging our bets! But it’s not allowed, according to this passage.
The tradition of giving to God first serves to remind us from where our blessings flow. It’s a discipline that helps us trust in God, not in ourselves. When we give to God first, we are training ourselves to trust. We are admitting our limitations; we can’t do everything ourselves.
In ancient Israel, when the harvest was ready, a sheaf, or an armful, of the first grain (probably barley as it ripen before wheat) was brought to the temple. That, along with a perfect lamb, some flour and olive oil, was offered to God. Then the farmer was allowed to enjoy the benefits of his harvest.
The man on the tractor is my Uncle Frank.
There are two thing we should understand about this practice today. First of all, thanks to the marvels of industrialization, there are fewer farmers today than back then. Although a few of us may have gardens, whether vegetables or flowers, none of us to my knowledge are raising grain. So literally obeying the commands of Leviticus 23 is not applicable. However, we can meet the spirit of the text by providing flowers for church or giving vegetables to a homeless shelter (as the community garden does, but then its backwards as what’s given is excess, not first fruits).
Furthermore, Jesus Christ has made the sacrifice for our sin, once and for all.[3] For this reason, we’re no longer bound by such commands such as bringing the first-fruit into the temple. Maybe I can still enjoy that first tomato, after all. Today, when we give, we do so out of gratitude. We should realize all God has done for us and we be thankful and gracious.
We should ask ourselves why God has given us so much compared to others in the world. (At the same time, we should be praying daily, as I suggested last week, “God, How would you use me to further the kingdom of Jesus Christ?). David Platt, author of Radical: Taking Back Your Faith from the American Dream (of which I saw a few copies in the book exchange), asks, “Why not begin operating under the idea that God has given us excess, not so we could have more, but so that we could give more?”[4]
We’re not legally bound to the law we read in this passage and don’t need to worry about literally bringing an armful of grain to worship. However, we should learn from this text and use it as a guide. We give God first, out of thanksgiving, acknowledging that all we have comes from the Almighty.
When I was a child, I was given an allowance on Saturday, with a reminder that before spending it, I should give to God first.[5] A dime from every dollar was to go into the offering plate. Giving to God first is a good habit for us to develop. In doing so, we grow in our faith and become an example for others. It’s a habit we should also instill in our children and grandchildren. This year, as you consider what you are giving to God’s work through the church, ask yourself, “Am I giving to God first? Or am I giving God the leftovers?” Amen.
©2017
[1] Adapted from a story by Lafcadio Hearn in Thesaurus of Anecdotes (Edmund Fuller, editor, (New York: Crown Publishers, 1942) and included in God’s Treasury of Virtues (Tulsa OK: Honor Books, 1995), 285.
[2] Exodus 34:26.
[3] Hebrews 10:1-18.
[4] David Platt, Radical: Taking Back Your Faith from the American Dream (Colorado Springs, CO: Mulnomah Books, 2010), 127.
[5] This was easy to do for there were no stores close to us and I wouldn’t have an opportunity to spend it all before Sunday.
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
Ecclesiastes 11:1-6
November 5, 2017
We spent last month looking at the foundational themes of the Protestant Reformation. Can you remember them? (Grace Alone, Faith Alone, Christ Alone, Scripture Alone and To God be the Glory). It’s important to remember that grace comes first. God loves us before we can respond. God’s love is not something we buy or earn. It’s a gift. It’s up to us to accept it and respond. This month, we’ll look at how we respond as we lead up to our Consecration Sunday on November 19. That’s when we’ll make a faith promise, through an estimate of giving card, concerning our giving for the coming year. It takes money, helping hands and a willing heart to make a successful church. And you are very generous!
I am going to start this series in the wisdom literature found in the Old Testament, specifically the book of Ecclesiastes. Outside the third chapter, this is not an overly popular book. The third chapter is where we read about there being a time for this, that and the other, words that were arranged into a popular hit sung by the Byrds in the 1960s. But there’s more to this book than the third chapter, as we are going to see today.
Many see this book as sad and gloomy. After all, the book begins with “vanity of vanities.” Others translate this opening as “Smoke, nothing but smoke,” “it is useless, useless,” or “everything is meaningless, completely meaningless.” In our mind, the book doesn’t start off on the right foot! But there’s treasure here!
“Some scholars suggest Solomon wrote this late his in life and was depressed and looking back in regret. But no name is given for the author, except the Hebrew word Koheleth, which isn’t a name, but a title. It can be translated as “the Teacher.” I’ll use that term throughout this sermon. Solomon is also cited as the author because he was known to be wise and because “the Teacher” was a son of David. But David had a number of sons, it’s just that Solomon is the one known for his wisdom. However, the authorship doesn’t matter as much as the message.
The Teacher wants to instill a sense of urgency in the lives of the young so that when they are old, they will have made the most out of their time and not look back with regret. Our reading begins in the 11th Chapter. Read Ecclesiastes 11:1-6:
“Cast your bread upon the waters,” our reading begins, “and after many days you’ll get back a soggy mess.” In case you didn’t understand, the ending was my twist to this parable. What does it mean to cast bread upon the water? If it’s not eaten by the gulls or fish, what good would it be? Even burnt toast and hardtack, after a short time, would come back a soggy! Vanity of vanities describes tossing our bread on the waters. So what could this passage possibly mean?
There’s been much debate over its meaning. Imagine that! Some scholars think the Teacher is referring to trade, the sending of grain off to a foreign port where it can be sold for a profit. This goes with the second verse which suggests that the prudent farmer will diversify. Raise a variety of crops, send them to markets at different ports on different ships in order to hedge his bet against disaster. Don’t put all your eggs in one basket, or as is known in the investment world, diversify! Make sure your portfolio has both stocks and bonds, domestic and international, and a variety of segments such as technology, medical, transportation and consumer discretionary. Certainly, there is some profound truth in such an interpretation, but there’s another way to look at this passage.
The Message translation paraphrases this verse. “Be generous: invest in acts of charity,” it advises. “Charity yields a high return.” This interpretation fits with the historical interpretation of the parable as well as with many ancient proverbs. There was an ancient Egyptian saying that went, “Do a good deed and throw it in the water, when it dries up it you will find it.” An old Arabic proverb went, “Do good, throw your bread on the waters, and one day you will find it.”
I’m in this latter camp, suggesting that charity (or good deeds) is the focus on this passage; however, even here there is a problem. If we do good only because we expect something in return, are we really charitable? If my only reason to do good is in the hopes that someday someone will do good to me, such as a father being generous to his kids knowing they’ll be picking out his nursing home, are we charitable?
You know, as a congregation, we were incredibly generous in our giving to the Presbyterian Disaster Assistance for hurricane relief, giving nearly $8,000. If we give just because we expect such a gift after we are hit by a storm, would we be generous? Or would we be buying insurance? The act of giving implies that we are no longer in control of whatever it was that we gave to someone else. It’s like casting bread upon the waters. Maybe it will and maybe it won’t come back, but we do it anyway because generosity is about as godly as we can be.
We’re to be generous when we’re able. There may come a time that we can’t volunteer to build houses for Habitat (although President Carter is still doing it at the age of 93). We do what we can do knowing that sooner or later, thanks to aging and health issues, most of us will be in a position where we must depend on the generosity of others.
In the third verse, our text turns to a familiar theme in Ecclesiastes. We’re not in control. We can’t make it rain nor can we, as many sadly learned during Hurricane Matthew, cause a tree to fall in the right direction (away from our homes). But just because these things are out of our control, we are not to use them as excuses for a lack of activity. God is in control, and as we learn in verse 5, is working behind the scenes such as forming a life in a mother’s womb. The miracle of life. It’s a miracle because there is a lot we don’t know about it. But od is there, working behind the scenes, and we must trust in him.
Our reading concludes with a call to action. Go ahead and sow your seed in the morning (don’t use the wind or the lack of rain as an excuse). Keep working, for we don’t know how things will turn out in the end. God has created us to work. You may remember I talked about this last winter in my sermons on the opening chapters of Genesis. Work is good. The Teacher understands this and encourages his students and us, his readers, to stay busy and not to look for excuses.
So what might we take from this passage? Let me suggest three things. Be generous. Be diligent. And make the most out of each day as we trust the future to God’s sovereignty. Be generous because we belong to a gracious and giving God. Be generous, remembering Jesus’ words that we are to store up our treasure in heaven. Be generous, for we know what Christ has done for us as we’ve been cleansed of our sin and called to a new life. Be generous, while we can, because we know that sooner or later, we too will depend on someone else for help. Be diligent means hedging our bets as a way to prepare for the future. It’s the advice of every good investment manager. We are diligent and hedge our bets, but we know that ultimately the future is not in our hands. Our futures are in God’s hands. Our comfort comes not from making a profit by sending our grain to foreign markets or even upon the sprouting of a bountiful crop in the field. Our comfort comes from knowing that we are in the hands of a loving God, a God whom we trust and whom, in thanksgiving, we share what we have for the building of his kingdom.
On November 19th, Consecration Sunday, we’ll ask you to make a faith commitment to the church for 2018. I encourage you to take time and to ask God in prayer, over the next two weeks, how he might use you to further the mission of Jesus Christ. Let us pray together.
Heavenly Father, you give us the breath of life and all that we have. How would you use us to further the mission of Jesus Christ? Amen.
©2017
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
October 22, 2017
2 Timothy 3:14-4:5
Over the past couple of decades there have been debates over the visible presence of the Ten Commandments in public places like courthouses. This has brought out the worse on all sides, those in favor of and those against such monuments. As Christians, we need to realize what’s most important. It’s not the monuments.[1] It’s obeying the law. It’s allowing God to write the law in our hearts as we heard in our Old Testament reading.[2] Yes, God’s law is important. It drives us to Scripture, where we can understand our need for grace in Jesus Christ, in whom we’re to place our faith.[3] Do you catch that? In that sentence I touched on the first four “Solas” or themes of the Reformation.
Deanie and I have been preaching about the “solas” since the first of October and now we’re on the fourth Sola: ”Scripture Alone.” It’s time for a test! I want to see what you’ve remembered from this series. What are the first three solas? (Grace Alone, Faith Alone, Christ Alone). Today, we’ll speak of Scripture Alone, and next week we’ll wrap it all up with the overarching theme, “To God be the Glory.”
I encourage you to be here next Sunday as a professor of mine, Dr. Charles Partee, will preach. Dr. Partee was the most popular preacher of the faculty of the seminary I attended. Everyone made an effort to be in chapel on the days he was in the pulpit. You had no idea where his sermon might lead. But the message was always entertaining and grounded in Scripture.
Our Scripture for today’s sermon comes from Second Timothy. There’s some debate as to if this letter was actually written by Paul to Timothy. Maybe it was written by a later disciple of Paul’s, some suggest.[4] But for the importance of our sermon today, let’s take the authorship of the letter at face value while seeking out the deeper truths of the letter. The letter opens with a reference to Timothy as “my beloved child.” This is one of the most personal sounding letters in Scripture, written by a teacher who knew his time on earth was limited, so he wants to impress his star student to continue his work of evangelism, of telling others about Jesus.
We should understand that although Timothy is referred to as his child, he’s no longer a kid. He’s a grown man with responsibility over a number of churches. Let’s listen to God’s Word as I read from 2 Timothy 3:14-4:5.
###
The Westminster Confession of Faith, the key confessional document of Reformed Christians from the British Isles, which would be us Presbyterians, begins this way:
Although the light of nature and the works of creation and providence, do so far manifest the goodness, wisdom, and power of God, as to leave men (and that includes women) inexcusable; yet they are not sufficient to give that knowledge of God, and of his will, which is necessary until salvation…
In other words, although we can know of God and God’s goodness in the natural world, there is a limit. Nature doesn’t teach us how to obtain salvation in Christ. The Confession continues:
therefore it pleased the Lord…to reveal himself, and to declare that his will unto his church… to commit the same whole unto writing; which maketh the Holy Scriptures to be most necessary…[5]
In other words, we need a revelation! We need to understand God’s will and so God saw to it that we have the Scriptures.
The Bible is important and the Reformers knew it. It was through the Scriptures, especially Paul’s letters to the Romans and the Galatians, that Luther found hope in Jesus. All the Reformers held high regard for the Bible and strove to make the text available in the language of the people. Two centuries before the Reformation, John Wycliffe insisted that his English parishioners hear the Bible read in English and not Latin. Luther felt this, too, and translated the Bible into German. Once the printing press became readily available in the late 15th Century, Bibles were printed and people began reading. They no longer had to depend on the church to tell them what was in Scripture. This threatened the established church, especially as the Reformers insisted that authority belonged to God’s Word, not to the institutional church. Scripture Alone means that our trust is not in some human institution. It’s in God’s Word.
This passage can be divided into two parts. The end of the third chapter is concerned with the grounding of our faith. That is, how we come to know and to trust in Jesus Christ. The beginning verses of the fourth chapter deal with its applications for our faith. What we should be doing because we trust in Christ Jesus as our Savior?
Paul begins by reminding Timothy that his faith was built upon the teachings of those he trusted. Furthermore, Paul tells him that these teachings can be confirmed through Scripture. It’s important to notice here, according to what Paul says, good fuzzy feelings are not what confirms our faith. Such emotional feelings are transitory; our faith is to be grounded in something solid. To put what Paul says in theological terms, Timothy’s faith is grounded in tradition confirmed by the Word of God.
What teachings had Timothy received? Paul says he was taught by those he trusted. Here, we assume Paul is speaking about Timothy’s mother and grandmother, Eunice and Lois. Timothy’s grew up learning the Jewish scriptures from his mother’s side of the family. At some point in his childhood, after an encounter with Paul, his mother and grandmother accepted Christ. Later, Timothy followed their example and became a companion of Paul’s.
It’s the teachings of those whom he trusted that gives Timothy confidence in the gospel of Jesus Christ. We should all learn from this. The church has a role in teaching scriptures, but so do parents and grandparents. We are to share our faith with children. We are to show them the importance of the Bible in our lives.
In the second part of this passage, Paul moves on to Timothy’s task at hand—the preaching of the gospel. In the presence of Jesus Christ, Timothy is to proclaim the good news, regardless of conditions.
Timothy is like the man who didn’t want to go to church one Sunday morning. Trying to get to the heart of the matter, his wife asked him why he didn’t want to go. He spoke about those who didn’t like him at church. He complained about the hypocrisy of members and how stuffy they are. And he complained that he was bored. Looking at his wife, he asked her to give him one good reason for him to go. She paused a moment and then said: “You’re the preacher!”
Timothy has his marching orders and he’s to carry them out whether or not it’s what people want to hear, whether or not he suffers for his faithfulness.
“Convince, rebuke and encourage,” Paul encourages. Convince those who don’t believe, rebuke those who have wrong ideas and encourage those disciples who are building up the kingdom. Finally, he concludes his first list of instructions, reminding Timothy that patience is needed in teaching.
Now Paul had a concern. He knows people listen to those who say what they want to hear. There’s a name for that today: “confirmation bias.” We tend to listen to those who confirm what we want to believe. It’s why Republicans listen to Fox News and Democrats to MSNBC. It’s why people “like” outlandish “news” on Facebook when it fits into what they want to believe. But there’s a danger when you only listen to what you want to hear—you confirm your biases. Paul has heard false teachers leading people away from Jesus Christ and so he shares his concern with Timothy. “Get to work, Boy,” he says, “Don’t miss an opportunity to proclaim the Gospel. We got to nip these false teachers in the bud.”
After expressing his concern for false teaching, Paul returns to giving instruction. “As for you, Timothy,” he says, “Be sober, endure suffering, do the work of an evangelist, and carry out your ministry fully.”
Be sober can also be translated as “Keep your head.” Paul is not telling Timothy not to drink;[6] instead, he’s telling him to keep his head clear so that he does not lose sight of his ultimate goal of being a loyal disciple of Jesus Christ.
As for endure suffering. Paul is a realist. He knows accepting Christ will not always bring joy and prosperity to one’s life… Paul knows this well, after all he’s spent time in jail and had been beaten for his testimony.[7] Furthermore, he knows suffering is often a lot for God’s people as seen in Scripture. Remember Job? Remember Jeremiah? A lot of times the world doesn’t want to hear what the church has to say…
We should gently share the message, and leave the decision for others and for the Holy Spirit. The greatest tool we have for evangelism, for sharing God’s love, is to strive to live a Christ-like life. That doesn’t go for just Sunday mornings. The measure of a great church is not how many people are there on Sunday morning, but what is happening to the congregation when the building is empty.” How are people living their faith in the workplace or on the golf course, when they are eating out or waiting in traffic? It’s up to all of us to live a Christian life seven days a week.
The reason Paul is so concerned that Timothy continue in his work is that Paul knows he’s at the end of his ministry. Paul told Timothy that he’s being poured out as a sacrifice.[8] But Paul was not bitter at his demise. Instead, he’s confident that he had done his best: “I have fought the good fight; I have finished the race; I have kept the faith,” he says later in the letter.[9] Paul’s not boasting here. He doesn’t say I won the battle, for he understood that the battle has already been won by Jesus Christ.
Paul’s message for Timothy is valid for us today as we strive to fulfill our calling here on Skidaway Island. “Stay with it, don’t get discouraged,” Paul would tell us. Trust in the Scriptures and take God’s word to heart.
There’s a little girl of three who had the flu. Her mother takes her to a pediatrician for an examination. The doctor tries to make the sniffling young child comfortable so when he looks into her ears, he asks, “Is Donald Duck in here?” “No,” she says. Checking her throat, he asks, “Is Mickey Mouse down there?” “No, silly,” she chuckles. Then he put his stethoscope on her chest and asked if Barney is in her heart? “No,” the little girl says firmly, “Jesus is in my heart! Barney’s on my underpants.”
Hold fast to Scripture but be like that little girl and let people know that Jesus is in our hearts. (But remember, we’re adults so let’s keep our underwear to ourselves.) Amen.
©2017
[1] For more about my thoughts on the commandments see this editorial I wrote for the Presbyterian Outlook in 2003: http://skidawaypres.org/pastor/?p=1123
[2] Jeremiah 31:33.
[3] See “The Second Helvetic Confession”, Chapter XII, in the “Book of Confessions of the Presbyterian Church USA (5.083).
[4] See Werner Georg Kummel, Introduction into the New Testament (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1975), 370ff.
[5] Presbyterian Church USA, Book of Confessions, The Westminster Confession of Faith, Chapter 1 (6:001).
[6] In his first letter, Paul even encourages Timothy to “take a little for his stomach.” See 1 Timothy 5:23
[7] See Acts 16:19-24.
[8] J.N.D. Kelly, A Commentary on the Pastoral Epistles (Peabody, MA: Hendrickson Publishers, 1960), 207f.
[9] 2 Timothy 4:7.
Jeff Garrison
Published in the Presbyterian Outlook, September 29, 2003
They’re marching in Alabama again. This time the destination is Montgomery and those marching are supporting Judge Roy Moore’s fight to keep a granite monument of the Ten Commandments at his courthouse. On August 27, the statue was removed. It appears Moore and his supporters have lost, but they promise to continue fighting. Sooner or later, the United States Supreme Court will have to step in and rule, but so far they’ve refused to handle this hot potato.
I’d sleep better if the Supreme Court decided such statues acknowledge a foundation of Western law and are thereby an appropriate symbol that doesn’t violate the separation of church and state. Of course, there are a variety of interpretations of what the founders of the Republic meant by such a separation. As one who swore off the study of jurisprudence for theology, like the Supreme Court. I’ll pass that potato on.
Instead, let’s consider what the Commandments are all about. The Big Ten provide a boundary by which we live as God intends. “The Decalogue prohibits what is contrary to God and neighbor and prescribes what is essential about it,” according to Roman Catholic Church teachings. Theologians distinguished between two tables of the law, the first table dealing with how we relate to God and the second addressing our relationships to others. Put together, the two tables set the context for a society that honors God and other members of the human family. The Ten Commandments are understood theologically as life-giving. In ancient times, Jewish Rabbis put a drop of honey on the tongues of those studying the law to remind them that God’s law is sweet, not bitter.
A few generations ago, Christians spent more time studying catechisms. These documents went into great detail behind the meaning of each Commandment. If you read the Heidelberg Catechism of the Reformed Churches, you’ll discover “Thou shalt not steal” includes no deceptive advertising. And in the new Catholic catechism, acts leading to the enslavement of another human being are treated as violations of the commandment. In other words, we should be careful misrepresenting a used car or purchasing goods produced in a sweatshop. “Thou shalt not kill” also means more than not murdering someone. Martin Luther equated failure to feed the hungry, when you had the ability, to murder. Likewise, “bearing false witness” is more than telling the truth. The Westminster Catechism used in Presbyterian Churches extended the commandment to include backbiting and vainglory boasting, sins prevalent throughout society.
I could go on with examples of how we ignore each of the Ten Commandments, but I won’t. Instead, we should understand those even if we have monuments by all courthouses or on every street corner, we won’t necessarily become better citizens. It’s odd that about the time many churches de-emphasized the study of the catechism, granite and bronze memorials started popping up around the country. In the 1950s, thousands of monuments were dedicated in the aftermath of Cecil B. DeMilles’s blockbuster flick, “The Ten Commandments.” Today, we’ve lost the fuller understanding of the law while trivializing it into something chiseled on a rock. With the law publicly displayed, we pat ourselves on the back and brag about our piety while forgetting what the law is all about. Perhaps we should thank the ACLU. Maybe the publicity generated by these lawsuits will force us to understand that the commandments are not an image to be viewed but a law to be studied and, as both Moses and the prophets insist, written on our hearts.
Before marching off to Montgomery, take time to study the Commandments. In the larger scheme of things, having a granite slab out in front of the courthouse won’t make a bit of difference. What will matter is how we apply the commandments. If we write them on our hearts, as the Hebrew Scriptures encourage, rest assured they’ll be safe from an ACLU lawsuit.
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Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
Hebrews 4:14-5:10
February 15, 2017
Today is homecoming Sunday and our kickoff for our 40th year. So let me begin with a cautionary note. Scripture warns us not to look back. It’s what turned Lot’s wife into a clump of salt and Jesus warns that one who puts his hands to the plow and then looks back is not fit to enter the kingdom.[1] When we look back, as the Jews do with the Passover, not to long for what is no longer presence, but to remember God’s faithfulness.
A second cautionary note: while it’s a pleasant thing to come home to church, we need to remember this isn’t our home. Our home is with our Heavenly Father. We come here to worship and to point to Christ as the one who will ultimately take us to our true home. You know, when the Prodigal Son returned home, he wasn’t looking back on this sinful living in a distant land. Image the love he felt when his father embraced him.[2] We, too, can feel such an embrace when we arrive at our final homecoming. So this homecoming and this kick-off for our 40th year, we should not be drawn back into the past, but into God’s future. Ask yourself, “Where is God leading us?”
The same goes with the 500th anniversary of the Reformation. Believe me, we don’t want to go back to the 16th Century. It was an awful time with disease, religious wars and political turmoil. But God was faithful and we should learn from that era as we push forward into the future. What does it mean to be a follower of Jesus? What wisdom might we glean from the 16th Century as well as from those who founded this congregation?
One of the questions that bothered Martin Luther and got the Reformation rolling was “How can I be saved?” It sounds pretty self-centered (how can I?), but the focus didn’t stay internal. Martin Luther’s study of the New Testament lead him to have faith in a gracious God. The focus quickly moved from Marty’s concern with his soul to God as revealed in Jesus Christ. And this is the Reformation’s third solas or theme” “Christ Alone.” It is in Jesus Christ that we have hope; it is in him that we find salvation. And one day, before him, all will bow.[3]
One of the historical ways of looking at the role Christ plays in our lives and world is through his three fold offices: Prophet, Priest and King.[4] As a prophet, Christ brings God’s word to us. As a Priest, Christ stands between us and God Almighty. And as King, which is his eternal position, Jesus Christ rules over all creation, of which as prophet and priest he is redeeming. Today, as we consider Christ Alone, we’re going to look at the second office, that of the Priest. Of course, these three are co-mingled, so we can’t really consider one without the others. Read Hebrews 4:14-5:10.
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The Hunger Games is set in a post-apocalyptic North America, in a dark future. (How many of you have seen the movie? Read the book?) The majority of people in this world live in fear and without hope. But those who reside in the capitol, live in luxury. All who live in the twelve districts suffer and toil, making a rich life possible for those in those in power. Each year, there is a gladiator-like contest where twelve teenagers, two for each district, get to fight to the death in a televised reality TV program. Only one will survive and this one will live in luxury. The cruelty of this event is entertainment for those living in the capitol and a reminder to those in the districts of the capitol’s power and of their need to toe the line.
The movie begins with the selection of the participants for the 74th annual Hunger Games. Everyone is listening as the names are called. There are sighs and tears in District 12 when Primrose Everdeen, a sweet young child barely old enough to participate in the lottery, is chosen. But then there’s a cry from the crowd and her older sister, Katniss, who’s 16, steps forward and volunteers in her place. Katniss stands between the officials and her sister. She is a mediator, offering her own life in order to save her sister.[5]
In ancient Israel, at the temple, the high priest was the mediator. Just as Katniss stood between her sister and the soldiers of the capitol, the high priest stood between the people and God. It was too dangerous for an ordinary individual to go before God. It was risky enough for the high priest, who only stepped into the Holy of Holies once a year to bring forth the sin offerings of the people. But the priest took that risk on benefit of the people.
We have a great high priest, the author of Hebrews proclaims, Jesus Christ! Jesus has benefits as high priest that others did not have. He came from heaven and is the Son of God. However, he is also able to relate to us. Not only is he from heaven, he has lived as we live. He has experienced temptation. He knows the trials and tribulations (as well as the joy) of life on earth. When we bring our concerns to him, he understands. He’s not aloof. He’s not like a leader who lives locked behind walls and gates with protection all around to keep people away. He’s not the most wonderful Wizard of Oz hiding behind a façade. He’s not an out-of-touch Maria Antoinette suggesting that those hungry in the streets should eat cake if there is no bread. Jesus is like Katniss, who had grown up in District 12 and knows the hardships of the people. The author of Hebrews wants us to understand two things: Jesus not only mediates our sins, he can relate to us and to our need.
The Book of Hebrews is perhaps best described as a sermon (or a series of sermons) from an unknown preacher who addresses a tired and wore-out congregation. Many of those who listened or read this sermon were wondering if following Jesus was really worth it. Some of you may wonder the same thing. Perhaps, they think, they should go back to their former ways, as Jews or Pagans. The preacher encourages the congregation to remain faithful and in doing so provides the most complex understanding of the nature of Christ. Who is this man and what does he have to do with us? Well, when we read Hebrews, we understand and are called to keep the faith and to trust in Jesus Christ, who came to bring us life.
The ending of the 4th chapter is a call for us to take our burdens to the high priest in prayer. To approach his throne of grace with boldness! For us, this might not seem a big deal. As one Biblical scholar sarcastically noted, contemporary Christians often “engage in prayer with all the casual nonchalance of ordering at a fast food restaurant. ‘God, I would like this and that,’ we say, as if we had every right to speaking this way and as if God had every obligation to fill the order.” “But true prayer is prefaced by awe.”[6] Those Christians and Jews in the first century knew this. God is holy and dangerous. Which is why Jesus came.
Jesus Christ is a high priest who came from heaven; this elevates him above all other high priest. So there is reason for awe, yet Jesus is also approachable because he came down to our level.
As our passage moves into the 5th Chapter of Hebrews, we are given a job description of the High Priest and evidence that Jesus not only meets but exceeds the requirement. The high priest is chosen from mortals (Jesus was born of Mary); he is able to deal with the people’s wayward ways (although Jesus wasn’t sinful, he didn’t mind hanging out with those considered sinful); and he must be called by God (again Jesus exceeds in this category). Jesus, who did not brag about being a high priest, had been chosen by God. The writer of Hebrews refers to a mysterious person in the Old Testament, a priest in whom Abraham met, Melchizedek.[7] Jesus is such a priest, an eternal priest.
Starting in verse 7, we’re reminded of Jesus’ life, and how he prayed when he was on earth. On earth, he was submissive to God his Father, through whom he was made perfect and became the source of Salvation. So not only is Christ the priest, the one standing between us and God, he is also the sacrifice. He is the Lamb of God.[8] He pays the price for our sin and brings us back into relationship with God the Father.[9] In other words, he’s the one who will, when our life on this earth is all over and done with, usher us into a homecoming unlike one we’ve ever known.
When the Reformers shouted “Christ Alone,” they were saying that there was no one else they trusted to stand between them and God. This is why most Protestant Churches did away with priestly offices. We have pastors and preachers and teachers. Our role is to point to Jesus Christ, the one who is the great high priest. Put your trust in him—approach his throne of grace with boldness—for in Christ alone is there salvation. Let us pray:
Almighty God, we bow and shield our eyes for you are too awesome. We thank you for coming as Jesus, for coming in a manner in which we can understand and relate. Accept us as his followers, and guide us as we strive to keep up with him as he leads us home to you. Amen.
[1] Genesis 19:26, Luke 9:62. See M. Craig Barnes, Searching for Home: Spirituality for Restless Souls (Grand Rapids: Brazos Press, 2003), 111.
[2] Luke 15:11ff.
[3] Romans 14:11, Philippians 2:10.
[4] See Westminster Larger Catechism, Questions 43-45.
[5] My appreciation to Stan Mast for the idea of using “The Hunger Games” as an illustration. See http://cep.calvinseminary.edu/sermon-starters/proper-23b/?term=hebrews%204:15-5:10
[6] Long, 64.
[7] Genesis 14:17ff. See also Psalm 110:4.
[8] See Revelation 5.
[9] John 14:6..
A New Logo
The Session of Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church has adopted a new logo for our congregation. The logo includes our name, wavy lines representing water, the cross and the sign of the Trinity which together form a tree. The colors are green and blue. This logo has a fresh look and also helps show growth and vitality and will make a wonderful springboard into our next forty years. In addition, the logo also looks crisp and clean in black and white.
Theologically and Biblically, there is much to ponder in this logo. The cross and the symbol for the Trinity reflect the truth of orthodox Christianity. Protestants, Roman Catholics and Eastern Orthodox all hold to essentials as taught in the incarnation of God in Jesus Christ (as represented in the cross upon which he died) and in the triune God (Father, Son and Spirit). This logo reminds everyone what it is that we believe.
The water is also an important part of the logo. After all, we worship on an island, surrounded by water. In the logo, the waves on the water create flow reminding Christians that we are a movement. Early Christians were known as “The Way” because following Jesus is a “way” of life. Water, which is essential to life, is also a major theme throughout Scripture. In Genesis, at Creation, God separates water and dry land. Jesus offers the woman at the well the “water of life.” We enter the church through the waters of baptism. And at the end of Scripture, we learn of a river that flows through the New Jerusalem, watering the trees of life.
The tree is another important symbol as seen throughout Scripture. The tree of life is in the Garden of Eden. Such trees are also present by the banks of the river in the New Jerusalem in the last chapter of Revelation. We live on an island with trees and the symbol in our logo reminds us that we are planted here to grow and flourish.
The Session also officially adopted “Reflecting the Face of Jesus” as our official motto. We will continue to use it along with the pen and ink drawing of our church in places such as bulletin covers. The logo will be used on the back of all publications and business cards. In time, it may be used on shirts, signs and banners, cups and other such places.
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
Romans 3:21-31
October 8, 2017
It is good to be back with you. I’ve been looking forward to this day for the past month because it meant we could share our new logo! I am excited about what the logo means and how it can help convey who we are to our community.
And I’ve been looking forward to this month for the past year. It was about a year ago that I woke up and realized, “hey, it’s going to be the 500th anniversary of the Protestant Reformation.” So it’s good to be back, but let me tell you about last week. We were in Plains, Georgia. One of the things we’ve talked about doing for some time was to attend Jimmy Carter’s Sunday School class. So we headed over to that end of the state on Friday, spent Saturday visiting Carter’s childhood homestead, along with Andersonville and the National POW museum. We went to bed early on Saturday. We’d read that one should arrive at church by 6 AM to ensure a seat in President Carter’s class. I was going to have to get up earlier than I normally do on Sundays!
We pulled into the parking lot at Maranatha Baptist Church a little before 6. Sixteen vehicles had arrived before us! It was pitch dark and I was able to get another hour or so of sleep, only to wake up with a Marine walking a dog around the parking lot sniffing cars for bombs. That was a new church experience for me!
At 8, we were lined up and after going through our pockets and running a wane over us, checking for weapons, we were allowed to enter the church. We were on the fifth row and had another two hour wait before Jimmy came out.
Carter was beginning a new study on Galatians and gave a perfect introduction to grace and faith. By the way, last Sunday was also his birthday. We didn’t know that until we were in Plains and people started asking us if we were there to celebrate his birthday. He turned 93! There is a lesson from his example—don’t think you’re too old to do God’s work!
We are on a journey this month that fits right into President Carter’s Sunday School message as we explore the great themes of the Reformation-the Solas! Grace Alone, Faith Alone, Scripture Alone and Christ Alone.
One of the concerns of the Reformation was salvation. How can I be saved and how can I be assured of my salvation. Martin Luther and others questioned the Roman Catholic position that salvation was found in the church, a mixture of God’s grace and human effort or work. The problem with that understanding is what’s enough? Luther, studying the book of Romans, discovered that salvation didn’t come from his efforts but by God’s doing. The idea that we are saved by grace through faith in Jesus Christ is liberating. God is freely offering us grace which we are to accept on faith.
Justification by faith has eternal implications. Imagine standing before the judgment throne. What are we going to say? I was a good guy? I was a good father, a kind husband, an honest employee, and a faithful son? I once helped an old lady across the street? I was once president of a Kiwanis Club? I taught a Sunday School class? Those are all good things, but how about the times we were less than honest? Or the times we weren’t very good. The times we were less than kind or faithful. The times we ignored one needing help or failed our kids, spouse, or parents? What about hurtful things we’ve said in anger? The list goes on and on. Does our good outweigh the bad on God’s scale of justice? How can we know where we stand?
Justification by faith means our salvation isn’t in our hands. It is a gift from a loving God, which we accept by faith. When we stand before that throne, it is important that when it is our turn to speak, we can say with a clear conscience, “I have faith, not in myself, but in my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.” Let’s hear what Paul says about faith. Read Romans 3:21-31. 
I still have the first Bible that I was given when I was in the second grade. The small print was difficult to read, even back then when I didn’t need glasses. The sheer number of words were overwhelming to a boy who really wanted to be outside playing baseball or running in the woods. Reading wasn’t high on my list of things to do at this age, and when I did pick up the Bible, I was drawn to the pictures, charts and maps on the back pages.
It was around this time we went to the county fair. As we made our way under the big tents with booths advertising all kinds of stuff, there was an evangelist handing out little red books. I don’t know whatever happened to mine, but I kept it for years even though the book was sticky with cotton candy. Thinking back, I have to wonder if the idea of a Christian little red book was an attempt to counter-act Mao’s infamous little red book. But that’s speculation. What I remember of this book, is that each page contained only a verse or two, supposedly about comfort, assurance and salvation. It was easy to read a verse at a time. And I would read and memorize many of the verses including Verse 23 of our reading this morning: “All have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God.” That verse got this 2nd grader’s attention. What? I’d been born into a depraved race? And I was no better off than everyone else? If there is one thing I knew as a boy, most boys know this, is that I’d done my share of bad stuff. And now I was assured that everyone else was bad, just like me. It’s amazing I wasn’t overwhelmed by despair.
“All have sinned…” What hope is there for us? How is this good news? What comfort is there in knowing that we’re all messed up? What assurance do we obtain with this knowledge? I think it is a bit unfair that this verse was included without the following verses that speak of grace and faith.
Today we’re considering the second great theme of the Reformation: Faith. Last week Deanie talked about grace. Our salvation is not something we do or achieve. Salvation is freely offered to us by a loving God. That’s grace! And we receive it by faith in Jesus Christ. Grace and faith are intertwined with the other Reformation solas, for our faith is in Jesus Christ, whom we learn about through Scripture.
The idea that Salvation is a free gift of grace that one just has to receive by faith in Christ was a revolutionary thought in the early years of the 16th Century. After all, the church insisted on regular confession and doing good deeds. The problem was that even our good deeds might not be enough and how could we know? We might have to spend centuries in purgatory before having done enough penance to ascend into heaven. But through the study of Romans, Luther began to realize that it didn’t work that way.[1] Salvation wasn’t something we achieved by actions and deeds. It was a gift to be received on faith. Luther’s insistence that salvation was by grace through faith radically changed the relationship between individuals, God, and the church.[2] God isn’t a scorekeeper, but a loving father. The church isn’t a dispensator of salvation, but is entrusted with Scripture which allows it to be the messenger of Good News. And in the end, the individual isn’t beholden to the church, but to God.
Our passage this morning marks a major shift in Paul’s letter to the Romans. Much of what he’s written to this point has to do with the sinfulness of the human race. He wants to drive home the point that we’re all guilty, that we are all sinful. And in verse 23, he brings this to a climax. “All have sinned.” BUT, Paul goes on, we can now be made righteous in Jesus Christ. We don’t have keep living in sin, nor should we throw up our hands in despair. God has created a way out. Paul doesn’t use the language of the cross in Romans, as he does extensively in some of his other letters such as those written to the Corinthians.[3] However, here he does focuses on the sacrifice of Christ for our sinfulness, on Christ’s atonement by his blood, so that when we accept Christ we can find forgiveness. Christ is righteous and justifies those of us who have faith.
In verse 27, Paul changes tack and speaks of the implication of our faith. Faith kills pride.[4] To be justified by faith and not our own acts or deeds means that we can’t brag about it. Go back to that image of standing in front of the judgment throne. If the only way we are made righteous is through faith, we aren’t going to be there saying, “God, let me tell you about all the good I’ve done.” Instead, we will be humbled and we will bow our heads in reverence and look down at our feet and mumble, “the only chance I have is that I have placed my faith in Jesus Christ.” Bragging about our faith isn’t a Christian trait!
Martin Luther, in his commentary on Romans, says that our efforts to keep the law “puffs up and increases vainglory,” and that those who strive for righteousness are seeking to be able to boast about their works.[5] Of course, the law has a purpose, for it helps us to see our need for grace.[6] It’s only when we accept the grace offered by faith do we have eternal hope.
Paul concludes our reading by elevating faith to be source of justification for all people. The Jews may have had the law, but they still must have faith in Christ. The Gentiles were not blessed with the law, so they need of faith in Christ. Faith in Christ moves the focus from us and what we do, to a God who loves us and offers us a graceful way out of our entrapment to sin. Are we willing to take that chance and in faith step out and accept what has been done for us? Let us pray:
Almighty God, your love for us in Jesus Christ is so great. We know we are sinners. Fill us with your spirit and help us place our faith in Jesus Christ, trusting that in him we have been cleansed and made righteous in your eyes. And when this life is over, receive us not upon our good deeds, but upon the word of the one we call Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. It is in his name that we pray. Amen.
©2017
[1] Luther first discovered the freeing understanding of grace and faith. It wasn’t until 1528 (in Confessing Concerning Christ’s Supper) that he (as had other Protestants already done) abandoned his belief in purgatory. He had earlier suggested it had no biblical foundation, but was primarily concerned in that humans could not help someone out of purgatory.
[2] Carol Hochhalter, “A Series on the Five Solas of the Reformation,” Reformed Worship 124 ((June 2017), 8.
[3] Krister Stendahl, Final Account: Paul’s Letter to the Romans (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1994), 22. In Romans, Paul doesn’t use the word “Cross” and uses “Crucified” only once, in reference to the death of the old self (Romans 6:6). He uses the term cross 2 times in the first letter to the Corinthians, and uses crucified 6 times in both letters.
[4] See Silverio Gonzalez’s notes on Thomas Schreiner, Faith Alone: The Doctrine of Justification (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2015) at https://cccdiscover.com/why-does-faith-alone-matter/
[5] Martin Luther, Commentary on Romans, J. Theodore Mueller, translator (1954, Grand Rapids, Kregel, 1976), 79-80.
[6] Luther, 77.,
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
Genesis 33:1-17
September 24, 2017
For the past two months we’ve been exploring stories of Jacob, the third patriarch of Israel. Last week, we heard that God changed Jacob’s name to Israel. Jacob, or Israel, has fought with men and with God and has prevailed.[1] But he shows the scars of battle as he limps along. We’ve seen how Jacob had cheated his brother and his father in order to obtain a blessing. Now God has blessed him and his family will carry on the promise that was first given to Abraham. The only problem is that Jacob must return to his homeland which means he must confront his brother, Esau. Jacob, the fair skinned momma boy, must meet his macho brother, whom he’s not seen in two decades. When Jacob left after tricking his father and cheating his brother out of a blessing, Esau was furious. Jacob ran for his life. And he’s been fretting over this reunion all along. And now the two of them are about to meet.
One thing I should note is that while Jacob’s name was changed to Israel, among friends and family he’s still going by Jacob. They weren’t present for the wrestling match we read about last week. Today, we’re at the end of this series on Jacob. Let’s see how it turns out. Read Genesis 33:1-17.
I recently heard that procrastination is a sign of creativity. Or at least creative people tend to procrastinate. I don’t know if that is true. Maybe it is, maybe not. I just hope it is for I’d like to be able to use it as an excuse.
There have been times I have had things I didn’t want to do and I kept putting them off. I fret over them. This is especially true when there is something I need to make right with someone else. An apology that needed to be offered, but I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. After a while, what could have been easily corrected with a hand-written note or a phone call becomes a huge task. I realize I should have taken the first step, even though I might have felt slighted and wanted the other person to make the first move. But we can’t control others, we can only control ourselves.
Jacob certainly had a way of putting things off. It seems important for him to make an effort at reconciliation with his brother even though he’s not sure how it was going to turn out. He can only control what he does, not how his brother responds. I wonder if the years in which he fretted over making such an effort he created a monster out of the task at hand. The more Jacob thinks about it, the more he worries about that hairy masculine brother wringing his neck. And, on the night before their encounter, Jacob’s hip is pulled out of joint. Now he doesn’t even have a chance to outrun Esau. He’s stuck. He has to go through with meeting his brother regardless of the consequences.
Another thing I have notice about myself is that although I realizing I’m changing, I don’t generally think about how other people might be changing. This is especially true of friends from the past whom I may not see for years. It’s not exactly “out of sight, out of mind” for I do think of them. It’s only that I remember them as they were when I last saw them. If I really think about it, I realize they, too, must be changing. I don’t know about you, but I don’t generally think about that. I noticed this most at class reunions, where I realize that almost everyone present is losing the battle to gravity. And where did these folks get all those wrinkles? I also have experienced this phenomenon on Facebook when I become reacquainted with a friend from the past and am surprised he doesn’t have any hair either.
Again, I wonder if this isn’t part of Jacob problem. He still sees Esau as the young man he’d wrong and assumes that Esau had spent the past two decades letting his anger boil just as Jacob had spent that time fretting over what might happen when they meet again.
Jacob is certainly nervous when he sees Esau approaching. We again see him picking favorites. He lines up his family, starting with the servants of Leah and Rachel and their children. Then he places Leah and her children. And at the end he places his beloved Rachel and her son, Joseph. Although we are not told the reason, it appears Jacob hopes that if his brother is out for blood, he might be appeased at taking out his vengeance on the first group of his family. He’s saved his favorite for the last. At least Rachel and Joseph will have a chance to get away. We’re not told how the mothers of his children felt about this alignment, but I am sure such favoritism didn’t bring harmony to his dysfunctional family.
But, to Jacob’s credit, he goes first. He’s in front, limping along, with his extended family in tow. If there is going to be blood, he might as well offer his own. After all, he’s facing demons of his own making. We’re told that Jacob bows seven times as he brother approaches—the type of homage that one would have shown to a Pharaoh.[2] As we saw last week, Jacob had already sent gifts ahead to Esau. Now he’s showing his submissiveness. He has no idea how his brother will respond. Will Esau extract the vengeance that, at least in Jacob’s mind, has been building over the past twenty years?
Instead of vengeance, Esau is joyous! Much like the father in the Prodigal Son, Esau runs out ahead and embraces his brother. The two hug and cry together.
Then Esau comments on his brother’s family and delights in meeting his sisters-in-law and nieces and nephews. Jacob rightly gives God the credit for his family. Esau then insists that no gifts are necessary even though when Jacob presses, he accepts the gifts graciously. As Jacob says, he has all that he needs. But it appears that so does Esau. Both men have been successful. Jacob has herds and a large family, Esau has a small army.
Then, in verses 10, Jacob expresses his joy, saying that looking at Esau’s face is like looking into the face of God. Jacob has encountered God a few times by this point, and as Jesus tells us in the parable, we too will encounter him in the face of others.[3] Maybe a part of this has to do with Esau’s willingness to let the past be gone and to make the reconciliation as easy as possible.
After a reunion, they go separate ways, partly out of necessity. With the herds and animals, Jacob’s crowd is much slower than Esau’s. What’s important is that the two brothers have been reunited and Jacob is back in the land of his father.
A lot of times I think we are like Jacob, afraid of taking steps toward reconciliation. We worry and agonize over it. Like Jacob, we may even go to great lengths to pave the way, such as offering gifts. But when we finally get around to it, many times we find that it wasn’t nearly as big of a deal as we had made it out to be. Sometimes, like with Esau, the person we worry about has moved on with their lives. Or times have soften or erased their bitterness. So we need to be the willing to be the first person to take steps toward reconciliation with our brothers and sisters.
In our New Testament reading, we heard the familiar story of the Prodigal Son.[4] In this story Jesus tells, the father represents God. The younger son has done terrible things to the father, to the point the father could be justified to treat the son as one dead or at the very least to treat him like a servant. Even the younger son realizes this, knowing that his father might not want to see him. But he goes back home, partly because he has no other choice, and he is warmly welcomed by his father. His old man doesn’t wait for him to return home, but runs down the road to meet his wayward son. Think about God running after us. Maybe this is why Jacob saw God’s face in Esau, who ran and embraced him.
If we want to be godly, we too must be willing to ask for forgiveness, to grant forgiveness when requested of us, and to seek reconciliation. That’s what the gospel is about. God through Jesus Christ is reconciling himself to the world. And as Christians, we are to take that a step further and seek to reconcile relationships broken between one another.
Jesus says, “Blessed are the peacemakers.”[5] In the Lord’s Prayer, we pray, “forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors,” or as a more modern translation would have it, “forgive us our sins as we forgive the sins of others.[6] And Jesus tells us to make things right with our brother (or sister) before we come to make a sacrifice to God.[7] Our willingness to forgive the wrong done to others is linked to God’s forgiveness.
But as we see in our story of Jacob and Esau, it is sometimes hard for us to take that step and seek reconciliation. We’re told this story from the point of view of Jacob. We don’t know what had gone on in Esau’s life. But it is evident that he was glad to see his brother. If there are those whom we love and whom we’re separated from, we need to be the ones to take the risk to seek out forgiveness. We need to be the ones to strive for a new relationship, or at least reconciliation. For when we take such a step, we reflect Jesus’ face to the world that is bitterly divided. It is a world that needs to see that reconciliation and not division is the way of the cross. And as God’s people, that’s our calling. Amen.
©2017
[1] Genesis 32:28.
[2] Gerhard Von Rad, Genesis, revised edition (1961, Philadelphia: Westminster, 1972), 327.
[3] Matthew 25:37-40.
[4] Luke 15:11-24.
[5] Matthew 5:9.
[6] Matthew 6:12.
[7] Matthew 5:24.
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
Genesis 32:22-32
September 17, 2017
Most of us, I expect, are a little exhausted. In the two weeks since we were last together, a lot has happened. Many of us, I’m sure, have done some wrestling with God. Right? Thankfully, we were spared from the worst, even though I know a number of you experienced some damage from Irma. Our prayers must continue to be offered, as well as help, to those who experienced the full wrath of that hurricane. Today, we’re going to look at a story about someone else who wrestled with God.
Two weeks ago we learned that Jacob and his father-in-law, Laban, made a covenant with each other and went their separate ways. Jacob and his extended family and their herds are now heading back to his home turf in Canaan. He has another uncomfortable meeting ahead, with his brother Esau, the one he’d cheated twice. When Jacob was last in Canaan, Esau was furious and Jacob had to run away as quick as possible. He was empty handed, not having time to pack, Now he’s returning a rich man, with a dozen kids, servants and slaves, and a host of animals. Despite his wealth, this meeting with his brother weighs heavy on Jacob’s mind as we see in the opening verses of the 32 chapter of Genesis.
Of course, it wasn’t just Jacob’s idea to return to his homeland. God had told him it was time. In preparation for this encounter with Esau, Jacob sends messengers ahead to inform his brother that he’s coming. The messengers come back and tell Jacob that Esau is coming to meet him, and bringing with him 400 warriors. Jacob may be rich, but he doesn’t have an army, so he is now even more afraid. He prays to God, humbling himself and confessing his fear that his brother is going to wring his neck.
And then Jacob makes preparations. He’s willing to offer a significant portion of his wealth, dividing out livestock and sending groups ahead as an offering to Esau. He hopes that with enough livestock, he can appease his brother’s anger. At this point, Jacob stays behind with Rachel and Leah and two servants. Read Genesis 32:22-32.
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In her book, Learning to Walk in the Dark, Barbara Brown Taylor tells about visiting Cumberland Island National Seashore, just south of us, just north of the Florida border. In case any of you want to visit, it’s currently closed due to damage from Irma. Anyway, Taylor and her husband were out hiking in the middle of the day when they came upon a huge loggerhead turtle that had exhausted itself trying to make it through the dunes. Obviously, the turtle had mistaken some light on the mainland for the moon over the water and after dropping and burying her eggs, took off in the wrong direction. It was midday and the turtle was barely alive. Her shell was hot. Taylor scooped sand over the turtle to cool its shell while her husband ran back to the ranger’s station. Soon, he returned with a ranger in a jeep. They turned the turtle over on her back and attached chains to her legs. Using the jeep, they dragged the turtle to the water’s edge, where they righted the turtle. With each wave, the turtle revived a bit and soon pushed off and swam out into the deep. Reflecting on all this, Taylor writes, “It is sometimes hard to tell whether you are being killed or saved by the hands that turn your life upside down.”[1]
I expect Jacob felt a bit like that turtle after his night of wrestling. Was it an angel? Was it a man? Or was it God? Whatever, Hulk Hugan and crowd never had anything on Jacob. He wrestles all night and in the morning is a changed man. Lots of things happen at night. Sometimes we do things at night because we don’t want to be seen, like Nicodemus coming to Jesus. Other times things happen because when we lay down to rest, our minds are free to wander and things we’re able to keep tucked away when we’re busy come out. Was this what happened to Jacob?
Jacob had a lot of stuff pinned up in his psyche. He was a con artist. He cheated his brother, his father, and even his father-in-law, who’d also cheated him. And now Jacob’s worried about what it’s going to be like when meets his brother. Esau is coming and he’s in command of 400 men. That’s enough to cause most of us to lose sleep. Jacob has made plans. He’s sending gifts ahead. He sends his family ahead, even his beloved Rachel. He alone remains safely on the opposite bank of the Jabbok River.[2] In the Hebrew text, one can recognize a word play here, between Jabbok and wrestle. Jacob, who thinks he is on the safe side of this river, is disturbed. He assumes he’s safe and will be able to catch a good night sleep, but that’s not the case.
Our text leaves more questions to ponder than it provides answers. First of all, we’re told that Jacob was alone, yet there was a man there who wrestled with him. The wrestling match goes on till dawn. Then the man asks to be released for dawn is approaching. Is he a ghost or a vampire that must be safely in the dark before the dawn? And why, when Jacob gives him his name, does the man not identity himself? And why does Jacob ask for his blessing? If he’d been a man looking to rob Jacob or harm him, would he’d asked for a blessing?
We don’t really have a clue as to who this mysterious wrestler was until we hear Jacob’s response as the sun rises and the mysterious stranger departs. Jacob realizes he’s been wrestling with God. Take that, Hulk and Sgt. Slaughter, Hercules Hernandez, Jake the Snake, the Wild Samoans and all you other fake wrestlers.[3] Jacob is wrestling with the deity, the Almighty, with the Creator. That’s pretty bad! That’s a wrestling match that is sure to sell out! I might even pay to see it.
But then, don’t we all wrestle with God. I know I have. Should I go to seminary? Should I take this call? Why did I do that? What will be the repercussions? Should I apology? We’ve all be there. And then, a week ago, it was sleepless nights wrestling with the unknown. What’s going to happen with this storm? There have been many nights I’ve laid in bed wondering, wrestling. My body is exhausted but my mind remains wide-awake. I’m sure many of you have experienced similar restless nights. At times these have gone on night after night. But sooner or later there is a resolution. For Jacob, it came in the morning when the sun rises and its rays reflect off the rippling waters of the Jabbok.
Why is it that most artists depict Jacob wrestling with an angel? The text refers to his opponent as a man and then, in the morning light, Jacob understands that was God. An incarnation? I don’t know? Perhaps artists want to protect God’s dignity. What kind of God would want to get dirty in the mud by the river? Well, maybe the type of God who crafted Adam out of the dirt and who came to us as Jesus. That’s good news! God seems to have a fondness for us. Even Jacob, who had done much in his life to earn condemnation, learns that God is with him.
Of course, we ponder, if it really was God with whom Jacob wrestled, why he wasn’t smashed to smithereens? Certainly, if God wanted to do in Jacob, a simple lightning bolt would have sufficed. But God has other plans for Jacob just as in our own wrestling with God, there may be something God is calling us to do. Or maybe there is something in our lives that God wants us to change. God’s wrestling isn’t to destroy us but to change us!
In Jacob’s case, he’s asked his name. “It’s Jacob,” he says. By giving his name, which means “cheater,” Jacob confesses to God what his life has been about. It’s been about him getting what he could from others. Then Jacob receives a blessing from the one whose blessings makes all the difference in the world. And he’s given a new name. In God’s eyes, Jacob will no longer be “the cheat.” Instead his new name, Israel, implies “God will rule.”[4] God is in control of even Jacob’s life. Jacob has been changed as is seen in the morning when he fords the river, limping. He’s battled with God and has survived and so has the promise that has been made to his father Isaac and his grandfather Abraham. There will, from him, be a great nation.
The good news in our text for this morning is that God is willing to get down and dirty with us in order to save us. That’s what happened when God came as Jesus. When we struggle in life, we can be assured that God is there beside us, struggling along with us. Even when we struggle with God, God is with us, not to blot us from existence, but to love us and guide us. This is the type of God with whom we, like Jacob, can be honest. After all, this is a God who knows all, yet wants our honesty. This is why Jacob is asked his name. God wants us to confess our failures and our sins. This is the type of God who, through Jesus Christ, offers us a new beginning, a new life, a new birth. Through Christ, God calls us back into a relationship with him. Won’t you answer the call? You may be changed, as was Jacob, who limped along praising God. God touched him in a way that changed him. Are you willing to risk letting God touch you? Amen.
©2017
[1] Barbara Brown Taylor, Learning to Walk in the Dark (New York: HarperOne, 2014), 66-67.
[2] The idea of Jacob being on the safe side of the Jabbok comes from a sermon by Edward Marquart, “Wrestling with God, www.sermonsfromseattle.com/series_c_wrestling_with_God.htm
[3] I didn’t know these names, but picked them out from this site: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/WWE_Hall_of_Fame
[4] Gerhard Von Rad, Genesis, revised edition (1961, Philadelphia: Westminster, 1972), 321-322.
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
Genesis 31:22-55
September 3, 2017
We’re continuing to explore the passages in Genesis about Jacob and his dysfunctional family. In a way, Jacob is between a rock and a hard place. He’s heading back to the land of his father, where he fears an encounter with his brother. We’ll hear more about that next week. But he’s also being pursued by his father-in-law, Laban. Today, in our text, they have their final encounter. It’s a long passage and I’m not going to read it all, but I want you to gain an understanding of this encounter and the skillful tactics of storytelling we find in Genesis. The narrator doesn’t let us just think this is between two men. God is involved. God’s in the background, protecting Jacob. And, we also see that Laban, as crooked as he can be, has a heart. There’s a human side to him. As this is a long passage, turn to Genesis 31. It goes from verse 22 through the end of the chapter, 30-some verses. But I will only read the first few verses, then move on to verse 43 and read the ending. I’ll fill in what happened in the sermon, but you might also take this as a homework assignment to read this afternoon! Read Genesis 31:22-25, 43-55. 
You know, as a pastor I have found out that I am either the last to know about something or I know way too much about things I don’t necessarily want to know. In other words, no one tells me what’s happening or I’m told things I’d just as soon not hear. With that said, let me tell you about this guy from Hastings Michigan. We’ll call him Jimmy, not his real name. For someone in real estate, he had a bad reputation. Lots of people told stories about how he’d cheated them out of this or that. There was a list of those with grievances, including the IRS. To say the least, Jimmy wasn’t liked by many if not most people.
I was in Richies Koffee Shop one Saturday morning. Richies is a classic greasy spoon diner. Their coffee is good even if it’s spelled it with a K. They even know how to poach eggs and place them over corn beef hash, they can make a decent omelet, and there burgers were something to savor. But it was there onion rings that were too die for. And if you ate too many of them, you probably would.
This particular Saturday morning, I sat at corner booth as I was editing my sermon. I had seldom seen Jimmy in the place, but this morning he was sitting at the long table in the center of the backroom. This was the township informal court. It’s the place you wanted to sit if you wanted to know all the scoop on what was happening in town. And if they didn’t know what was happening someone would make it up. This gathering place was as much as a rumor mill as it was a breakfast table. People in the community rotated in and out from this table throughout the morning.
Once Jimmy got up and left to pay his bill, the guys at the table (and they were mostly but not all men) turned their sarcasm toward him. “Who allowed him in here?” one asked. That’s not exactly what he said. I eliminated some of his more colorful modifiers that would not be appropriate in a sermon.
One after another at the table made disparaging remarks about Jimmy. It was as if a quarterback was sacked and the opposing team piled on. I was feeling uncomfortable with what I was hearing. I thought I should say something, but wasn’t sure what, nor did I want them to think I was listening in to their conversation (not that they were trying to shield their talk from anyone). Thankfully, one of the waitresses spoke up and berated the table for their attitude. Then they began to talk about her.
I had done some business with Jimmy, and I admit that I had watched my back. But I got to like him. I realized he had a good heart. I think he was also lonely. Outside his wife, he didn’t seem to have many friends. But then, as he started to come to church and to get involved, he began to make friends. And I knew that before he’d left the area to be closer to family, he made some incredibly generous donations to the church and community. Not all of these donations were known even to those being helped.
Laban reminds me of Jimmy. By the time we’re at today’s passage, he’s old. Two of his daughters have run off with their husband. For two decades, he’s been trying to get what he could from his son-in-law, Jacob. And while he’s away from home, Jacob and his family saddles up and heads west. We’re told they’ve been gone three days when Laban gets the word of their departure. Perhaps he was out at the far pastures, three days travel away, where he’s sent spotted and black sheep and goats.[1] The man was always trying to get the best of Jacob, but God saw to it that Jacob prospered as Laban’s ewes and nannies produced more spotted and black lambs and kids, those that Laban had promised to Jacob.
Hearing that Jacob and company had left, Laban gathers everyone up and they began their pursuit. They catch up with Jacob at Gilead, after seven days of hard riding. There is a problem of understanding here as it would have been impossible to have made it from where Laban was thought to have resided to Gilead. It’s possible he’s from another place, that’s closer.[2]
We’re told that God informs Laban in a dream that he had better go easy on Jacob. When Laban catches Jacob, he claims the flocks and his daughters and their children belong to him, but he doesn’t ask for them back. He acknowledges that Jacob’s God has spoken to him. Jacob is protected, even though Laban supposedly has more men to fight and, from appearances, could easily take back what is his. So instead of asking for his daughters or livestock (which he’d already given to Jacob) back, he asks for his household gods to be returned. This is interesting that he wants these gods, for he’s already acknowledged that superiority of Jacob’s God.
Last week, I told you how this section of Genesis reads like a television sitcom, with each episode laying out something that will have to be resolved in future episode. And we learned that Rachel, Laban’s beloved and beautiful younger daughter whom Jacob cherished, had stolen the idols belonging to her father. Perhaps Rachel felt she needed the luck these idols might bring. After all, even though she is the apple in Jacob’s eye, she has to deal with her older sister Leah, who’s been able to give Jacob four sons. At this point, Rachel has only given him one son, Joseph.
Not knowing that Rachel has stolen the gods, Jacob pronounces a death sentence on anyone found with them. The listener to this story would have been on the edge of their seat, in suspense. If the idols are discovered with Rachel, she’s a goner, and both men would have grieved. Laban storms through the camp, in a humorous fashion, trying to find his household gods. He comes up empty. Rachel hides them by sitting on them. Because it is “that time of the month” for her, her father doesn’t check everywhere.
When Laban comes back having not found his idols, it’s Jacob turn to be angry. He berates his father-in-law for the abuse he’s experienced over the past two decades. Laban then suggests that they make a covenant with each other. They gathered stones and built a monument as a reminder. Laban shows concern for his daughters, as he acknowledges that he’s not going to be there for them, so he ask God to watch over them. But there is a sadness in his words, for he realizes that he won’t be there to protect them.
Jacob points to the stone as a boundary marker between the two families. They both agree to the covenant. Jacob then offers a sacrifice and everyone eats and has a big party.
Early the next morning, Laban kisses and blesses his daughters and grandchildren and returns to his home. Jacob is now free to move on to Canaan, to his father’s home. One chapter is closed, another is about to open.
What does this passage mean? Don’t steal your daddy’s gods? Certainly, one level, it does show how our deeds follow us. A couple of chapters later, God, whom Jacob refers to as the “Fear of Isaac”, calls on Jacob and his family to cleanse themselves of all idols and these gods that Rachel hoarded would have been discarded. [3] But then, too much water had been under the bridge for them to be return. By calling God “the Fear”, the story pulls us back into the era of the patriarchs.[4] They didn’t have theologians to write about God. They didn’t even know as Moses did, who asked of God’s name and was told, “I am who I am.”[5] And they certainly did not know God as we do, though the lens of Jesus Christ. “The Fear” is a good way to acknowledge this mysterious deity that spoke to Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob through dreams and visions. With the trust of Jacob, who listened to “the Fear”, we should listen and be in awe of our God.
A second thing we might take from this passage is the need for boundaries. When there’s conflict, it’s good for people to come together in a covenant, to set boundaries, and to move on with their lives with no hard feelings toward the other. Laban is free to go on with his life, having trusted his daughter’s to Jacob’s care, under God’s eyes. Jacob is free to go to his father’s land. In the end, instead of trying to get the best of one another, forgiving and moving on is better for all involved. And with such a parting, each party leaving it up to God to watch out over the other is an important lesson.
A third point is that both men call on the God of their father. I don’t want to go too deep here, but maybe this text shows us how we can work with those who have different ideas about god. As we’ve seen, Laban’s idea of god is not the same as Jacob’s. Each, holding on to their own beliefs, looks to their deity to hold them to the covenant.
Finally, we must realize as Laban did, that we are not able to control everything. God is in control and we must trust, as those in recovery say, in a higher power. We place such trust in the triune God, we can sleep better at night. Amen.
©2017
[1] Genesis 30:35.
[2] Gerhard Von Rad, Genesis, revised edition (Philadelphia: Westminster, 1962), 308
[3] Genesis 35:1-4.
[4] Frederick Buechner, in his novel about Jacob, Son of Laughter, uses Fear whenever he has Jacob referring to God.
[5] Exodus 3:14.
I know I raised a lot of questions with my sermon last week. Some of you really liked the sermon and encouraged me to keep taking bold steps while others were less encouraging. It was my hope that we would not to be like the “Sons of Laban.” We need to always respond to events with an open mind and a willingness to forgive, apologize and understand. It is my hope we can continue to dialogue with one another. We must seek to live out our Christian belief, as expressed by Paul, that we are all one in Christ Jesus. That is our calling, and we are working to live into it. We are not quite there. We must always strive to do better. It is because of this, I thought I would share a bit of my journey.
The ninth grade was a turning point for me. I fear I realize what I could have become when I look back. It was the first year of crosstown busing and the students from Roland Grice Junior High were shipped to Williston, in the inner-city area of Wilmington. We didn’t want to be there and those who were from Williston didn’t want us there. It was a scary time. There were riots. At times, there was a National Guard presence in the street.
There were two camping trips that year which helped shaped me. I didn’t get to go on the first. My mother wouldn’t let me go as there were no adults. It was probably the best thing that happened to me that year. A bunch of guys with whom I’d hung out at Williston, kind of a gang joined together for protection and mischief, went camping by themselves. There were some older brothers who joined them and brought along some alcohol. Late that evening, everyone was feeling bold and they decided to go burn a cross in the yard of an African-American family. They were lucky they didn’t get shot, but they all ended up with police records and spent the rest of their school years working off community service hours. I hope I would have had the moral courage to have stood up to such an awful idea, but I’m not sure. As a ninth grader, peer pressure is an awful thing. I am thankful my mom kept me from having to make that decision.
My mother instilled in me a sensitivity for others and was always asking me how I would feel if I were in their situation. I hated such guilt, but it opened me up to think of how others feel.
The second camping trip was with the Order of the Arrow, a Boy Scout fraternity. We were camping up on the northeast Cape Fear River. It was a cold winter night and there was an African American Scout named Charles who needed a place to sleep. I had a large four man tent and there was just me and another guy sleeping in it. One of the leaders came to me and asked if it was okay for Charles to stay in my tent. I was torn, but I also knew it was the right thing to do. Besides, I knew if my mother ever got word that I had failed to open up my tent, I would be in trouble. Charles and I talked a lot that evening and I realized he wasn’t any different than me, except that he was a few years older. I would later become good friends with his brother who was my age.
As a young man working for the Boy Scouts of America, I remember calling on the sheriff of Bladen County. Behind his desk in his office were two flags, an American and a Confederate battle flag. While in his office, I couldn’t help but think that if his constituents in the county had known of the second flag, he’d probably not be sheriff. He certainly didn’t have the Confederate battle flag on his campaign posters in a county that was over fifty percent African American. Sitting before his desk, I wondered how others would feel with this flag being present in a public space.
Years later, I was a pastor in Michigan and was shocked and disturbed to see people in pickup trucks driving around flying Confederate flags. I was shocked because these folks’ ancestors had fought and died for the Union. I also felt as if they were taking something that belonged to my heritage and using it to promote a racist agenda. I then learned that the county I was living in had a long history of Klan activity.
Yes, racism isn’t just limited to the South. It’s around the world. In my travels, I’ve witnessed it in far flung places like Japan, Malaysia, and Russia. It is a part of our fallen human state. But as Christians, as followers of that Jew from Nazareth, we are called into a new relationship with one another. We are going to have to find a way to talk past our differences. Those of us who are followers of Jesus should be willing to take the first steps to break down barriers that divide us and also to build bridges that will allow us to see one another as having been created in God’s image.
What is most important to us? Is holding on to myths of the past more important than seeking the face of the living God in all who are alive today? Can we open ourselves to God’s guidance and have a conversation about this?
As I have been preaching from the Jacob stories in Genesis this August and September, I thought I would also share a review to a novel based on Jacob’s story:
Frederick Buechner, Son of Laughter (San Francisco: Harpers Collins, 1994), 274 pages
Jacob is a complex character and his life takes up a good chunk of the book of Genesis. He is known as a trickster. He cheats his brother, twice, and fools his father. He is also tricked by his father-in-law Laban into working much longer than he’d planned in order to marry the woman he loves. Laban forces him to marry both of his daughters, the one he doesn’t love and the one he loves. This creates conflict within Jacob’s family, which grows large with a total of twelve sons. Frederick Buechner takes this story from scripture and writes a novel about the third patriarch in Genesis.
Jacob’s father is Isaac, whose name means laughter. Isaac’s parents were well beyond social security age when he was born. They’d laughed at the idea of having a child so that becomes his name. “Laughter” carries a horrible memory, of being tied on a pyre about to be offered up as a sacrifice (Genesis 22). It is a memory he reveals to his sons, Esau and Jacob. With favorite children and secrets, we see the dysfunctionality of this family. Yet, it is through this family that God is at work to fulfill the promise.
Jacob, like his father Isaac and grandfather Abraham, has intimate conversations with God. But God isn’t yet known. It’ll be 400 more years before Moses experiences God’s presence as the great “I AM” at the burning bush. Jacob’s experiences God in a dream and as a stranger in the night. He refers to this invisible deity as “the Fear.” The Fear is stronger than the local gods, such as the ones of Laban, gods whom Jacob’s favorite wife Rachel had stolen when they broke away from Laban. These “idols” cause trouble within the clan. Jacob follows the directions from the Fear, which often comes to him through dreams. And his favorite son, Joseph, is the interpreter of dreams. The story ends with Jacob and his family being saved by Joseph who has risen to power in Egypt. But Jacob knows he doesn’t belong in this land. He extracts a promise from his sons that they will see to it that his bones are returned to the place of his ancestors.
Buechner brings the story of Jacob to life. In this novel, we’re taken back in time, back before the Exodus, before the Prophets, and before the coming of Christ. In a world of a multitude of gods that’s filled with superstition, Jacob fosters a relationship with the One God. I think it is appropriate for God to be referred to as “the Fear,” for we can only stand in awe before such a deity. And Jacob, who is a flawed character, reminds us of God’s grace and freedom. He believes strongly that The Fear has chosen him and his sons to be a blessing to the world. His story also reminds us that we live with a promise from God, one that goes back long before our birth and will not be fulfilled until after our deaths. We, too, are to be a blessing. We live our lives in faith, trusting beyond what we can see or will experience.
If you’d like to learn more about Jacob, read Genesis 25-37 and 47:27-49. And then read Buechner’s novel. It’s amazing what God can do through flawed characters!
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
Genesis 31:1-21
August 27, 2017
In the past two sermons, I’ve mentioned how the stories of Jacob (as well as other stories from Scripture) would have been shared around the campfires. People would have laughed and have enjoyed the tales, but would have also learned something about themselves as well as the ancestors and their God. While I was away the other week planning my preaching for next year, one of the books I read was titled The Heart Aroused: Poetry and the Preservation of the Soul in Corporate America. The quote on the leaf of the bulletin came from this book. I encourage you to check it out. It reminds us of the role the fire pit played in the lives of our ancestors. It was around places, such as intimate campfires, where these stories were first told.
Today, we’re looking at a continuation of last week’s text. These passages are laid out like a good sitcom. In each section there is a seed planted for a future episode. Last week, we learned how Jacob was able to prosper despite Laban’s attempt to con him. The two had agreed that Jacob would take the stripped and spotted sheep and goats for his payment of twenty years work. Laban thought he’d be getting the more valuable animals, but even as he agreed, he had his sons drive the spotted animals to distant pastures in order to keep them, too. Despite this, the purely white animals gave birth to stripped and spotted animals and soon Jacob’s herd had increased beyond what anyone thought possible. God was with Jacob.
But success comes with challenges, as we will see in today’s reading from Genesis 31, the first 21 verses.
###
One of the ugliest periods in history of my hometown, Wilmington, North Carolina, occurred in 1898. North Carolina came out of the Reconstruction in a way that was different than most Southern States. In the 1890s, African-Americans still had the right to vote. In Wilmington, which was the largest city in the state at the time, there were African-American aldermen, policemen, and firemen. There was a black-owned newspaper that was read all over the South. Its editor, Alexander Manly, a Presbyterian no less, published an editorial that was a response to charge that white women had to fear black men. Manly suggested such fear went the other way, too. He pointed out that his mother had been a slave and his father was a former governor. Bringing this to light was dangerous. People began to complain that Manly was getting to be “too high strung, bold and saucy.”[1] In other words, he was becoming “too uppity.”
Politically, the establishment was feeling threatened for in the 1890s there was a joining together of forces between white yeomen farmers and laborers and African Americans. The older order was being pushed out. Words became more heated as they begin to play the race card to hold their position. Shortly after the election of 1898, things exploded. White bands attacked and burned the black newspaper but the black community didn’t roll over and play dead. Many of them fought back with squirrel guns and whatever weapons they could find. The white mob, having drawn resources from the National Guard armory including Gatling guns which had just returned from the Spanish American war, out gunned them. The riot became a bloody massacre and in the aftermath, North Carolina followed the rest of the South into the Jim Crow era.[2] An opportunity was lost! It says something that this history wasn’t taught when I was in school.
It’s a human tendency based on our fallen state for us to look down upon those whom we think are below us. But just because it’s a tendency doesn’t mean it’s the Christian thing to do. When someone we think should be below us experiences a blessing or doing better than us, we feel betrayed. It’s as if Satan is poking our conscience: “Look at them, they’re not as good as you!” We respond with snide or cutting remarks. Some may even respond with hostile or violent actions as happened in 1898. It’s still going on, today, as we saw in Charlottesville. It’s been going on for a long time. We see this tendency in today’s text.
God blessed Jacob and now the sons of Laban feel slighted. They forgot or ignored their dad taking advantage of this foreigner, cheating him over and over again. Laban did everything he could to swindle Jacob, yet Jacob prospers. Perhaps it was because of Jacob prospering despite how he’d been treated that made it worse in the eyes of Laban’s sons. Don’t they have a right enjoy all of their father’s estate?
In the middle of our text, Jacob recalls a dream in which God promises to bless him even while Laban is out to cheat him. And God informs Jacob it’s time for him to leave. But Jacob didn’t need a dream to know this. Looking around at what was happening, Jacob easily realized it was time for him and his family to be moving on. Even his wives acknowledge this. Scripture tells us that a man must leave his parents and be united with his wife (the same goes for the woman).[3] Leah and Rachel realize their father has taken advantage of their husband and so they encourage Jacob to leave. Jacob is ready and starts packing.
To go back to the sitcom analogy, the text sets us up for the next show. We’re told that while Laban is out shearing sheep and Jacob is packing up the station wagon, Rachel steals her father’s household gods. She takes his idols. The seed of the next week’s confrontation is planted.
This text shows us two things. First of all, as I have already pointed out, it demonstrates how we tend to look questionably upon those whom we think should be below us, yet more prosperous. We don’t like it when the immigrant does better than the native (unless we happen to be the immigrant). We feel uncomfortable when another country grows rich and challenges our standing in the world. Instead of rejoicing in their blessings, we complain and bicker and do what we can to curtail their progress, just like Laban’s sons. The second thing this text shows us is that we, even when we are being blessed by God, are not totally innocent nor satisfied. We can be like Rachel, who steals her father’s gods.
One of the things that we need to understand as Christians is that our problems do not always belong to someone else. We can’t just blame the heathens. As Paul notes, “All have sinned and fallen short of God’s glory.”[4] This is why humility is such a necessary Christian virtue. We are blessed not because of our work, but because God has blessed us. There are others who work hard and are not blessed, or work hard and then lose everything to a hurricane or some other natural disaster, to civil unrest, or war, or an untimely illness.
Furthermore, we are not good just because we have kept the Ten Commandments. We are good only because God through Jesus Christ has forgiven us and made us righteous. We often take too much credit for our own situation.
I think all of us agree that we are living in a time of turmoil. We might not all agree as to the cause, and that’s okay. In the aftermath of Charlottesville, I’m going to risk addressing this. I realize this may seem to be a bit of leap from our text, but not really. As Christians, we need to set a standard of decency and not act as if we’re the sons of Laban. We shouldn’t look down on others, nor think that we’re entitled to more than them.
We need to understand that just because someone doesn’t look like us or have different customs from us doesn’t make them bad. We need to be willing to confess not only our sins but the sins of our ancestors. I know the idea of original sin isn’t very popular these days, but it is a core part of our belief.[5] We, the human race, have been corrupted by sin and bare responsibility for it. We should be honest and admit that because of the color of our skin, many of us enjoy benefits that others don’t enjoy. Also, because of the sins of our ancestors, many of us enjoy benefits that others don’t. When we try to whitewash our past, we are not being honest.
Now, I am not suggesting that we need to wipe out every Civil War monument. But we should be honest and acknowledge the core issues that led to the war, including slavery. It was wrong. We should admit there were no saints, on either side, in that war. We should acknowledge the suffering of those who were in slavery and the benefit they provided for their owners (and their owner’s descendants). And we should also acknowledge that many of those who went off to war had no choice in the manner. Like my relatives, many were poor farmers during the antebellum period and they remained that way during reconstruction and afterwards. Zebulon Vance, who became governor of North Carolina may have been the first to acknowledge that it was a rich man’s war and a poor man’s fight.[6] That’s true of many wars. So instead of becoming so defensive, let’s encourage an honest discussion over such monuments while making sure that all sides of the story is told. This means that other stories need to be highlighted. Other monuments will need to be installed. In information depicted on older monuments should be changed to reflect the good and bad past deeds of those depicted.
And for us as individuals, we need to do what we can to bridge gaps between ourselves and others. We are the ones who need to foster friendship with those who look and think differently than us—those from another race or ethnic group, those with different religious or political views. We need to listen without being defensive.
A few years ago, I read a couple of Marshall Goldsmith’s books. He’s an executive coach and leadership guru, who writes about helping successful people become more successful. In his book, What Got You Here Won’t Get You There, he points out how the world has changed and how leaders need to be changing with it. He offers twenty suggestions of things we need to do differently. Many of his suggestions fall into the category of “not being the sons of Laban” and the realization that our actions are not always honorable.
Goldsmith encourages his readers to seek honest feedback, to apology, to listen to others, and to give thanks. He reminds us that just because we were born on third base doesn’t mean we’ve hit a triple. He forces us to acknowledge that anger is rarely someone else’s fault. He suggests a question we all need to be asking (and listening to the answer) to the question, “how can I do better?”[7]
As I said, we are in a time of turmoil. It’s frightening. But with turmoil comes change. And change can be for the good or for the bad. Change means we have an opportunity. Do we want to be the sons of Laban? Or do we want to rejoice in the blessings shown Jacob and his family? Do we want live with the guilt and fear of taking what’s not ours, as Rachel did? Or do we want to be satisfied with what God gives us?
As followers of Jesus, it’s up to us to bring positive changes to our community and to the world. It’s up to us to make the future better for all people. And perhaps the best way to start such a journey is to be honest with ourselves and willing to listen to others. Yes, change is frightening. But it is also an opportunity. Let’s make the best of it. Amen.
©2017
[1] Richard Yarborough, “Violence, Manhood, and Black Heroism,” in Democracy Betrayed: The Wilmington Race Riot of 1898 and Its Legacy (Chapel Hill, NC: UNC Press, 1998), 238.
[2] For more on the 1898 riot, see David S. Cecelski and Timothy B. Tyson, editors. Democracy Betrayed: The Wilmington Race Riot of 1898 and Its Legacy (Chapel Hill, NC: UNC Press, 1998) and H. Leon Prather, Sr., We Have Taken a City: The Wilmington Racial Massacre and Coup of 1898 (1984, Southport, NC: Dram Tree Book, 2006).
[3] Genesis 2:24.
[4] Romans 3:22 (see also Romans 5:12)
[5] See Scots Confession, chapter 4; and Second Helvetic Confession, chapter 8.
[6] http://www.newsobserver.com/opinion/op-ed/article31123988.html
[7] Marshall Goldsmith, What Got You Here Won’t Get You There (New York: Hyperion, 2007). See pages 21, 63 and 122 for Goldsmith’s suggestions.
When I first look up at the sun through those funky glasses, it appears as if someone had taken just a nibble out of a cookie.
A door in Springville, Host of SC Frog Jumping Contest
Donna and I are in Springfield, South Carolina, a small town south of Columbia. Knowing Savannah is only going to experience a partial (97% of the sun covered) eclipse, it’s time for a road trip. Furthermore, the coast looks to be socked in with clouds. As the path of totality is passing by just 70 miles north of here, and Interstate 95 promised to be backed up with eclipse watches, we take back roads, heading northwest, hoping to find a place without clouds and within the totality of the event.
Leaving Savannah on Georgia 21, we follow the river northwest, driving among the tractors pulling containers in and out of the port. At Springville (Georgia, not South Carolina), we turn north on Highway 119 and cross the Savannah River. A few miles north of the river, 119 merges into US 321 and we head north. Attempting to work our way both far enough north to be in the path of totality and far enough west to avoid the coastal clouds, we take US 278, driving through pine forest and the occasional field of beans, corn or cotton. We stop in Barnwell, the gateway to the Savannah River Site (a Department of Energy Nuclear operation) and pick up a quick lunch at Burger King. Then we continue heading north, taking State Road 37. After Elko, which is in the path of totality, we start looking for a good place to watch the eclipse. There are clouds, but also large clear areas in the sky. We pull into the small town of Springfield.
Southern Railroad used to run through Springfield, but the tracks were no longer there. Somehow, a caboose had been left behind and the swath of land that once were tracks is now a long park. The rail beds have been paved over as a walking and bike path and a pavilion was built next to the caboose. We find a shady spot to park, get out of the car and after putting on the solar glasses, take a peak and see that the moon was slowly doing its magic. Totality is a little over an hour away. A few others also stop and we all gather in the park in the center of town.
An African American man is there with his wife and children. We get to talking and I learn he’s from Springfield. He tells me the train stopped running around fifteen years ago. Then he points to another park and said we should come back the Saturday before Easter as the town holds a bull frog jumping contest. I mention Mark Twain’s story, but I’m not sure he even knows whom I’m talking about as he goes on about how far some of the frogs can jump. He then points west and tells me about a town with a Chitin festival and how the whole town stinks during the festival. “I think I’ll skip that festival,” I confide. Then he starts telling about another town where there was a poetry festival. “Really,” I say. “I might be interested in that,” while thinking that this doesn’t look like a hotbed for literary activities. He continues, describing how folks walk around gnawing on large drumsticks. I realize he was saying “poultry” and not “poetry.” “You got to come back,” the guy says. “All these little towns have festivals.” The man is proud of his place in the world!
I take another look at the sun and the bite into the cookie is larger. The cookie monster is busy; or the moon is doing its magic.
We decide to walk around the town, all three blocks, with a desire to see the sights and hopefully find relief from the gnats flying around us under the trees. They are annoying but thankfully are not the biting type. Most of the businesses are closed. The diner is only open Thursdays through Saturday. The pharmacy closed for the eclipse and, in front of the store, had sat a skeleton in a lounge chair. The bank is open but doesn’t look very busy. Just off Main Street is a convenient store that seems to be doing a fair amount of business.
Looking back at the sun, it appears as if the cookie is half eaten.
When we got back from our walk, we join the group on the pavilion. The pavilion provides little relief from the gnats and even though the sun was slowly disappearing and it’s noticeably cooker, it’s still warm and when not looking at the sun, the shade helps. A large cloud begins to make its way toward the sun and we wonder if we should relocate further west, but the cloud seems to vaporize as it got closer to the sun. We meet some folks from Savannah, a guy who’d driven a motorcycle up this morning from Gainsville, Florida, another couple from Jacksonville.
The next time I look, the cookie is about three quarter’s gone.
The family from Savannah’s dog is noticeable agitated and we discuss if it’s because of the eclipse or because he thinks it’s almost night and he hasn’t yet been fed. Looking away from the sun, the sky is a darker blue. The clouds are only seen on the horizon. I walk down to where there are trees and see hundreds of crescents reflecting through the leaves on the ground.
Watching through the glasses, more and more of the sun disappears. The cookie metaphor no longer applies. It’s just a thin rim. If it was a cookie, it would have crumbled.
Folks begin to claim space on the ramp leading up to the pavilion, laying out towels and blankets. We lie down on the ramp, looking up to get a better view. Insects begin to sing. Streetlights turn on. Cars driving through town have their lights on.
Then it happens. Very quickly the rim of the sun seen through the glasses disappears. A few specks appear for a moment and then it’s gone. You can see nothing in the glasses, so I remove them and WOW.
The corona is visible, flashing out from behind the moon, in a metallic bluish color. We hold our breath for it is incredibly beautiful. I don’t even bother trying to take a photo. Looking around, a few stars and planets are visible, but there is not enough time to orient myself as to which is which. I keep looking back at the dark block crowned with the corona. Then, way too soon, the sun begins to reappear with just flecks at first. We put back on our glasses and watch as the rim appears on the opposite side. We began to clamp and cheer in acknowledgement that we did it, we witnessed the eclipse and it was incredible.
Just after totality
We watch the sun through the glasses for a few minutes, but the excitement is over. People began packing up and soon everyone is heading home. As I walk back to the car that’s parked in the shade of trees, I notice the crescents covering the hood and take my last photo of the eclipse. We decide to take what is quicker way back and head off east toward I-95. A few minutes after leaving Springfield, clouds have covered the sky. Twenty minutes later, we’re in a downpour. When we get to 95, we realize that we made a mistake as the traffic heading south is at a standstill. We opt for US 17. We’re back home by 6:30 PM.
Praise the Lord! Praise the Lord from the heavens; praise him for the heights!
Praise Him, sun and moon; praise him, all you shinning stars!
-Psalm 148:1, 3
Rain on the drive home
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
Genesis 30:25-43
August 20, 2017
Before getting into the Scriptures for today, I thought I we’d have a little educational session about what we might experience tomorrow afternoon if the clouds stay away. I’m sure you all know we’re having a near total eclipse. Drive just 70 miles north and the sun will be completely gone. In ancient times, before they were understood, eclipses were something to be feared. If they occurred on a Saturday, church would be packed on a Sunday. They were thought to be a bad omen, letting people know something evil that was about to happen. Scripture doesn’t help. The prophet Joel speaks of the sun and moon darkening and the Gospels tells us that during the crucifixion, darkness descended on the land.[1] The darkening of the sun is troubling.
Of course, we know what causes an eclipse. So enjoy the show tomorrow and stay safe. Having just come back from North Carolina, I can assure you the electronic signs on 95 are already warning people to expect heavy traffic as everyone tries to get into the totality of the moon’s shadow.
As you can see on this diagram I found on Facebook, there are three kinds of eclipses. Lunar eclipses are frequent. This makes sense, for the earth is much larger than the moon so it is easier for the moon to be in the earth’s shadow. Solar eclipses, like we’ll have tomorrow (and you may have to be in a plane above the clouds to see it), is when the moon is between the sun and its shadow crosses the earth. With the moon being much smaller, things have to line up just right for the shadow to make it across the face of the earth. Solar eclipses are much less frequent than lunar ones.
As for the final type of eclipse, when the sun moves between the earth and moon, lets me just say those $3.99 eclipse glasses won’t do you much good. Also, you might need to stock up on some real strong sunscreen. Thankfully, we don’t have to worry about it happening, and if it did we’d be home with Jesus earlier than planned. Regardless, God is with us as we’re going to see in our scripture lesson this morning.
We’re still looking at the stories of Jacob. Today and next week we’re going to see him try to free himself from his father-in-law, Laban. Two weeks ago, we saw how Laban got the best of Jacob, as he had to work twice as long to earn the hand of the girl he loved. Today we will see how Jacob gets back at Laban. In between these two events, Jacob is blessed with a host of boys! Remember what I said two weeks ago. There’s humor in these stories. Imagine folks telling what Jacob did around a campfire or in their slave huts in Egypt. They’d laugh at the through of their umpteenth great-granddaddy, the trickster, pulling this stunt off against Laban, who was also a trickster. Read Genesis 30:25-43.
###
“Now that Joseph is born…” our story begins. Joseph is the wanted child. Even though Jacob already has a quiver full of boys, which the Psalmist says is a sign of a blessed man, Jacob has been waiting for this one child. Up until this point, Jacob has had children with his first wife, Leah; with Bilhah, Rachel’s slave; with Zilpah, Leah’s slave. But the light of his eye, Rachel has yet to conceive. Now she gives birth and they name the child Joseph. And as you know, this child will have his own challenges, but he is the one who will save his family. He is the child of the promise. Without him, Jacob’s dream of a nation from his descendants will not happen.
With Joseph in diapers, Jacob feels it’s time he head back home. Remember the dream of the stairway to heaven, as Jacob was fleeing his brother’s wrath? Jacob was assured he would return home and now he is ready. So he approaches his father-in-law and asks to be released so that he and his family and their flocks may return home with him.
You got to love Laban. Hearing this, he goes on about how he’s been blessed because of Jacob. It’s Jacob’s God that is the one who has seen to it that his flocks have multiplied.
Laban response demonstrates a truth I have found in life. It’s not the main truth of this passage, but kind of a second kernel of truth we can take with us. If you are doing business with someone—say buying a car—and they start talking about God, hold on to your wallet! Those who talk the talk the loudest often don’t walk the walk. Sometimes it’s just a sales pitch. As Jesus says, be wise as serpents and gentle as doves.[2] Don’t be fooled by smooth talk! Watch out for the Labans of the world. And in our own lives, make sure that our actions demonstrate Jesus’ values, and that we show humility before we engage in God talk!
Jacob offers a unique deal to Laban. He’ll take the animals that are stripped or spotted, Laban can have the rest. This is a great deal for Laban. After all, the “unblemished animals” would be worth more. Laban jumps on it. “Sounds good,” he says, as he whispers to his sons to round up those spotted and stripped animals, along with the black ones, and move them to distant pastures. He wants them to be far from Jacob’s eyes. Even while agreeing to this deal, Laban is planning deceit. Without any spotted animals and without any black sheep, it is highly unlikely the remaining “white sheep” will give birth to spotted or stripped animals.
But Jacob has a trick up his sleeve, too. He pulls off a magical stunt, having the animals mate in front of stripped sticks. Obviously, there was some belief that animals who mated in front of such sticks would give birth to animals with strips and spots. And he only mates the strongest of the flock, for there was no need to weaken his flock with the genetics of Laban’s weaker animals. Now, there is no science behind these streaked sticks, although there is science behind breeding strong with the strong. Those listening probably laughed at Jacob fooling Laban, but they also understood that ultimately it was God blessing Jacob by causing the stronger ewes and does to give birth to strong spotted and stripped lambs and kids.
With a new flock, despite Laban’s best attempts to cheat him, Jacob is now set to make his journey back to his homeland and to encounter his brother. Of course, there will be more encounters with Laban (and Laban’s gods). We’ll look at those over the next two weeks.
This is, at least on the surface, not an overwhelmingly religious text. God is only mentioned twice. Once by Laban at the beginning, when he attempt to pull a fast one on Jacob. And then a second time by Jacob, when he acknowledges that it is God that has caused the blessings that have come from his time working for Laban.[3]
Even though God is only mentioned in passing, God is there, working behind the scenes. God blesses Jacob! God’s blessings often require patience. God teaches by delayed gratification. God doesn’t instantly answer our prayers. Nor is God a Santa Claus, coming around once a year with goodies if we’ve been good enough. Sometimes it seems as if God is all about delayed gratification. In Jacob’s life, it was twenty years before he had a full family and a strong herd. Twenty years, that’s a long time to wait, but God works that way. We have to be patient and trust as we go about our lives. God is present throughout the waiting. Maybe it’s because God wants us to appreciate what we have. We don’t always know what’s going on, but we live and walk by faith, trusting the Lord. Amen.
©2017
[1] Joel 2:10, Matthew 27:45, Mark 15:33, Luke 23:44
[2] Matthew 10:16
[3] Gerhard Von Rad, Genesis, revised edition (Philadelphia: Westminster, 1962), 302.
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
Genesis 29
August 6, 2017
We began our look at Jacob last week, reading about his dream in Genesis 28. I hope you learned that the Stairway to Heaven existed long before Led Zeppelin came on the scene. But as I said, the dream itself served only to grab our attention. What’s important was the Lord speaking to Jacob and the promises made.
As we explore other Jacob stories, we need to remember that these tales are humorous.[1] In the centuries following, those telling the stories around the campfires or in the slave huts of Egypt, would have laughed at Jacob. Think about him tricking his brother out of his blessing using skins to confuse his blind father, causing the old man to think that it was hairy Esau and not the fair skinned Jacob. And then there’s old Laban, who we’ll meet today, tricking the trickster.
As we saw last week, Jacob is on a journey, but other than the night of the dream, we’re not given any details. We’re not told of his sore feet, his aching body, the nasty camels or any of that.[2] Instead, in the chapter after his dream, we find that Jacob has arrived in the land belonging to Laban, his mother’s brother. He’s there to find a wife. At the beginning of the chapter, he spots a well or cistern. There’s something about watering holes in the Old Testament that seem to bring couples together.[3] At this well, there are some shepherds. Jacob asks them about Laban and they point to a woman tending sheep. “She’s Rachel,” they say, “Laban’s youngest daughter.” Jacob is smitten at first sight. This is who he’ll marry, he hopes.
The shepherds have not yet opened the well, probably because there was an agreement that all those who drew from the well should be present when it is open. This is to keep everyone honest and not to allow someone to take more than their share of water.[4] As Rachel approaches with her flock, Jacob ignores this tradition. Like a superhero, he jumps up and pushed off the heavy stone, a task that normally took several of the shepherds. His adrenaline is pumping. He wants to impress this girl.
Jacob then kisses Rachel. As you can imagine, this doesn’t go over very well. We’re not told if he was slapped, but there’s a good probability of it. She then runs and tells her father. John Calvin found Jacob’s actions much too risqué and even suggested that maybe Moses got it wrong when he wrote it down![5] When Rachel tells her father who it was that kissed her, Laban doesn’t grab the shotgun, as we’d expect. Instead, he greets Jacob (whom he’s never met) like a long lost friend. He’s actually his nephew. This is where our reading begins. I’ll read Genesis 29:15-30, although we’ll be looking at the entire chapter (so keep your Bibles open).
###
I finally got around to watching the Flim-Flam Man this week. It was a film made in 1967, from one of my favorite books which I have referred to several times in sermons. George C. Scott played Mordecai Jones, an infamous con artist who had come to Cape Fear County during the tobacco market. Mordecai takes up with a guy named Curley, an AWOL soldier. Curley had decked his loud-mouth Yankee Sargent and decided it was time he and the Army depart ways. This short clip is where they get to know each other…
(show movie clip)
You can’t cheat an honest man? I’m not sure that’s true, but I do think Mordecai Jones is right in the fact that it’s easier to cheat someone who is looking to cheat you. Perhaps that’s why Laban was able to take advantage of his son-in-law, Jacob. As a young man, Jacob had found a way to cheat his brother, twice. He comes to Laban and is willing to work for his daughter’s hand. He toils for seven years. It doesn’t even seem like work, for he is so focused on Rachel, the love of his life.
At the end of the time, there is a wonderful wedding. These events often went on for a week. When the night to consummate the marriage arrives, Laban, as the father-of-the-bride, surrounded by all the women at the party, leads the bride in a full veil to the wedding tent. It’s dark. There’s been plenty of drinking along with the feasting. Jacob is stuffed and a bit tipsy and doesn’t realize that the veiled woman isn’t his beloved Rachel. But he sobers up quickly the next morning when he wakes up and to find his arm around Leah, who’s lying next to him in bed.
Adding to the humor are the names of the daughters. Rachel means ewe, and certainly Jacob loved her as if she was his “little lamb.” Although the meaning is debated, it’s probably that Leah is a variation of “cow,” certainly not a very flattering name. As our text reads, she had pretty eyes. And as you know, that’s often a backhanded compliment.[6]
Laban is probably correct in saying that the custom is to marry off the older daughter first. However, when Jacob asked for Rachel’s hand in marriage, Laban didn’t say no. In fact, he suggested it was better that she be married to someone distantly related than to a foreigner. Even though he’s had seven years to find Leah a husband, he waits and marries her off to an unsuspecting Jacob.
Does he marry Leah to Jacob as a way to protect the honor of his oldest daughter? If so, it doesn’t really work for she’s now tied to a man who loves her sister. Does he pull this stunt off to obtain another seven years of labor from Jacob? Perhaps, but in doing so, he sows the seeds of discord within Jacob’s family.
This deal with the two sisters and who is the oldest is ironic. Jacob had to deal with who was born first growing up. He and his brother Esau have had their fights. The two of them were twins, but Esau was born first. Therefore, Esau was set to inherit 2/3 of his father’s estate. Jacob would have inherited only a 1/3. But Jacob tricked his brother, selling him that expensive bowl of soup. And Jacob wasn’t satisfied there, he also tricked his brother out of the blessing. The blessing is more important. It had come down from God to Abraham and then Isaac. Jacob had tricked his brother out of his birthright, but now he’s tricked into having to work twice as long for the woman he loves.
At the end of our passage, we see that Jacob is able to marry Rachel. But we also learn of the roots of jealously taking hold, for Jacob loved Rachel more than Leah. At this point, Leah is barren. She has not given birth to any children. In the verses that follow our reading, we learn that she cries to God and God answers her by giving her a boy. Interestingly, according to the text, God and not Jacob is responsible for the pregnancy. Yes, Jacob played a role, but God was the director of the scene.
Lead names her son Rueben which means, “Look, a boy.”[7] Leah, in this way, rubs her blessings into her sister Rachel’s wounds, for the younger and lovelier sister has yet to bear a child. In fact, it will be sometime before she will give birth. Before she is able to give birth to Joseph, the child that Jacob loves more than the others and compounds the family jealously issues, she tries what Sarah attempted to do with Abraham.[8] She offers her husband her servant as a surrogate. Dysfunctional families are nothing new!
This story is well-known and important in the history of Israel, but what does it teach us? It certainly isn’t an endorsement of polygamy, as some have said. If anything it shows the problems arising from competing loyalty. Nor does Scripture condone the treachery of Jacob and Laban, but it acknowledges it. We live in a fallen world, and often our actions demonstrate that sin is alive and well. Yet, even with sin rampart, God is listening to prayers. God is moved by the prayers of Leah, that she is given three boys in rapid succession: Reuben, Simon and Levi. And later, as we’ll see, God will hear the prayers of Rachel as she gives birth to Joseph, who will rise from his mistreatment by his brothers to save his people. God works in mysterious ways, and is at work through Jacob, so that by the time he goes back to the land of his father, he’ll have established a large family that will become the foundation of the twelve tribes of Israel.
I suppose what we learn from these passage is that you only see God’s hand when looking backwards. Yes, there was plenty of sadness and jealous, but God was never far away, guiding things so that a nation could be formed and from that nation would come a Savior, God’s Son, Jesus Christ. Such insight should give us hope for the future. We might not always know why things happen, but we should still place our trust in God and enjoy life. For as I indicated at the beginning, these stories were told in a humorous way and laughter is always good. Know that God is present with his love and grace. God answers our prayers and is also able to laugh with our follies. Amen.
©2017
[1] Walter Brueggemann, Genesis: Interpretation (Atlanta, John Knox Press: 1982), 251.
[2] Frederick Buechner’s novel, Son of Laughter (San Francisco, HarperCollins, 1993) fills in many of these details. It is fiction. I have been reading this book as a way to get into the Jacob stories.
[3] Abraham’s servant found Isaac’s wife (Jacob’s mother) at a spring. Genesis 24:13-21.
[4]Gerhard Von Rad, Genesis, revised edition, (Philadelphia: Westminster, 1973), 288.
[5] Von Rad, 291.
[6] The meaning of the word translated as “lovely” in the NRSV is disputed. Some suggest that instead of lovely, it means weak, which would mean that her eyes were not attractive to Middle Eastern men. See Von Rad, 291.
[7] Von Rad, 294.
[8] See Genesis 16.
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
July 30, 2017
Genesis 28:10-22
Some people have the idea that all the guys and gals on the Lord’s side are holy, but when you read the Bible you find that’s not the case. God isn’t just God for the good guys. For God so loved the world, we’re told.[1] God’s grace is wonderful. Yet, we’re still surprised when one known for shady dealings and crooked ways experiences grace. Although there are many such stories in Scripture—remember Zacchaeus and the Prodigal Son?[2]—we think it’s unfair. They don’t deserve a second or forty-ninth chance.[3] But do we?
One such shady character in Scripture is Jacob. Remember him? One of the patriarchs in the Old Testament? We’re going to spend some time with Jacob, starting with his dream of the ladder to heaven. This occurred right after he’d cheated his brother, Esau, out of a blessing from their father Isaac. Jacob had already cheated Esau out of his birthright, selling his brother an expensive bowl of soup. Now he’s taken even the blessing designed for his brother. Esau is out for blood. It would have been Cain and Abel[4] all over again, except that Jacob, on his mom’s advice, skips town. [5]This is where our story begins… READ GENESIS 28:10-22
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The day had started out rainy. I was hiking through the New York section of the Appalachian Trail, on my way to Maine. There was a lot of road walking this day. After the rain stopped and the clouds parted, walking along the side of a road without any shade was torture. Hot and humid. I couldn’t wait for the trail to turn back into the woods. Then, in the early evening, I came upon a restaurant. I decided instead of a bowl of rice or noodles, I’d have a nice sit-down meal in Air Conditioning. I longed for a crisp salad and a cold beer. I had only about half of mile of road walking before the trail turned back in the woods so I stopped. The air conditioning was heavenly. It was about an hour before dark when I left the establishment.
When I got to where the trail headed out into the woods, I was shocked to find that I was entering Pawling Nature Preserve and for the next 3 or 4 miles, camping wasn’t allowed. This information wasn’t in the guide book. I couldn’t go back, unless I wanted to sleep along the shoulder of the road, so I headed into the woods as light drained from the sky. I decided that, for my own conscience, I wouldn’t “camp.” I’d just sleep. There was no need for a fire or even for my stove, as I’d just eaten. So I went a mile or so into the forest, found a level spot, well off the trail, and rolled out my bivy sack. I put my sleeping bag in it, tied my pack up in the trees, and tried to camouflage my bed roll as much as possible. I brushed my teeth and crawled into my sleeping bag… Although tired, I did not sleep like a baby. I had all kinds of weird dreams—mostly about rangers waking me up.
I was up well before the sun the next morning, stuffed everything into my pack and headed on. When I got through the preserve, there was another road-walk and just a short bit down the trail, I found a place to stop and fix breakfast. Under a set of oaks was a small creek with a mossy spot to sit. I dropped my pack and then noticed across the street was a cemetery. “The Gate of Heaven” was its name.
“How awesome is this place!” Jacob says. “This is none other than the house of God, this is the gate of heaven.” And I, too, awoke to find the Gate of Heaven… God is closer to us than we think, whether in Judean Hill Country, the mountains of New York State, or the marsh around Skidaway Island. This world is God’s altar.[6] And yes, I, too, believe that God sometimes speaks to us in dreams as he did with Jacob, although I don’t remember any dreams of angels that night.
Let’s look at Jacob for a minute. As I’ve tried to emphasize, he’s really a jerk. After ripping off his brother twice, he decides he’d better skip town… He’s in such a hurry that he either forgets or doesn’t have time to pack a bedroll. You’d think that as Jacob fled, his conscience would have bothered him a bit. Furthermore, the place he stops is coincidental.[7] He’s between major episodes in his life, the taking of his brother’s blessing and finding a wife (or wives, as in his case[8]). He only stops because it’s dark. In this site, between events, when nothing is expected to happen unless Esau catches up with him, God intervenes.
As he flees, Jacob makes his meager bed, probably thinking he’d sleep and be quickly on his way at dawn. We’d think he’d lay awake and worry about the brother he hurt, or at least worry about what would happen to him if his older brother got his hands around his neck… But it’s not that way for Jacob. Instead of tossing and turning all night, he lays down, using a rock for a pillow, and sleeps like a baby.
But he dreams. Again, we might think that Jacob’s conscience would have been bothering him such that his dream would have been a nightmare, but it wasn’t. He dreams of a ladder or a stairway which reaches from the earth to the heavens and upon which angels travel up and down. However, the significance isn’t in the dream. The dream is to grab Jacob’s attention. What’s significant is the Lord’s appearance, giving him the same promise that had been given to his father and grandfather.
In verse 15, Jacob receives a three-fold promise from God. First of all, the Lord promises to be with him. This is much like the promise that Jesus gives the church (I will be with you always, wherever two or more are gathered[9]). Jacob now knows God is with him. Secondly, the Lord promises to protect Jacob. “I will keep you,” he says. For a wanted and marked man, such a promise gives hope. Finally, the Lord tells Jacob he will provide a homecoming. For a lost man, on the run, this sounds like good news![10]
Jacob awakes and is afraid. But it’s not because of Esau that he’s sacred. He knows that One more powerful than him has been present. He knows something astonishing has happened.
That morning (perhaps over coffee), Jacob thinks about the promises God has made to him and reacts by building an altar using the stone which had been his pillow. Then he vows to God, saying that if God is going to do all this for him, the Lord will be his God and he’ll give a tenth of his income to the Lord.
There are two important lessons from this passage which I hope you take away. God’s love and grace are given freely, without merit; and God’s love demands a response…
First, God’s love and grace are given freely… Jacob is a jerk. What right does he have to claim God’s promise? None! He wasn’t righteous. When we look at the way he acted toward his brother, we can imagine how he treated others. Yet, even though Jacob is an egocentric pain-in-the-butt, God reaches out in love to him. God gives him a vision of heaven, of angels and of a ladder where angels ascend and descend. In his dream, Jacob sees that heaven is connected to and is concerned for the earth. He now knows that God is going to take care of him.
It may be that way with some of you. At times, we should admit, myself included, that we act like jerks. We hurt people with our actions and words. But that makes God’s offer of forgiveness through Jesus Christ all the more wonderful. Our salvation is not compromised by our past mistakes and dishonesty. Praise be to God for his love is given freely and is not tied to our actions.[11]
Let me say this another way. If you feel you are not worthy of God’s love, you are right… You’re not. None of us are… Jacob certainly wasn’t… I’m not and, if honest, neither are you. Yet God reached out to Jacob and, through Jesus Christ, God reaches out to us in love and mercy. Paul wrote, “All have sinned and come short of God’s glory” and at another time he said: “I am the chief of sinners.”[12] God reached out to Paul and he became a great missionary. God reached out to Jacob and he became a father of a nation. How is God reaching out to us?
The second important lesson from this passage is that God’s love demands our response. After experiencing this wonderful sign of God’s grace, Jacob immediately builds an altar and promises to give God a tenth of his income. Jacob shows his gratitude by worship and commitment. By the way, notice that he gave back to God only after he experiences God’s grace. It is only after God told him what he’s going to do that Jacob responds. We don’t give to buy God’s love, for that would be idolatry. We give in response to God’s love, which is shown to us at Bethlehem and even more fully on the cross. How could we ever buy God’s love? Do we really think we are important enough that God couldn’t get along without us?
Like Jacob, we give to God out of thanksgiving. We give because God gave to us first… Jacob gave a tenth of his income to God because he was thankful. We should tithe, not because we need all the help we can get, but because we are grateful that even in our rebellion, God loves us and sees value in us. You know, Jacob promises to tithe even though his blessing will not be fully realized for many, many generations. Like Jacob, we, too, must step out in faith, giving God thanks for what we’ve experienced in the past and what grace and mercy we’ll experience in the future.
When Jacob fled from his brother, he had a dream. His dream was to inherit all that was his dad’s. He wanted flocks of sheep, the goats, the tent, the camels and the cooking pots… But God had another dream for him, one that included a vision of heaven and that, in time, would make him a father of nations. Too often we sell God short. Our dreams aren’t really God’s dreams. Instead of reaching for the sky, we’re satisfied with a bit more stuff. Jacob wanted a larger herd; in the story I began with, I just wanted to get out of that nature preserve without being caught camping. We want, but our dreams and wants are nothing compared to the plans God may have for us. We need to trust God and be surprised by the blessings.
Let me send you out with a question. Do you sometimes settle for your small dreams when God’s dream for you is much larger? Amen.
©2017
[1] John 3:16.
[2] Luke 15:11-32, Luke 19:1-10.
[3] Matthew 18:21-22.
[4] Genesis 4.
[5] Genesis 27:41-45.
[6] See Barbara Brown Taylor, An Altar in the World: A Geography of Faith (New York: HarperOne, 2009).
[7] Gerhard Von Rad, Genesis, revised edition (Philadelphia: Westminster, 1972), 283.
[8] Jacob the tricksters, is tricked by his father-in-law into marrying the “ugly daughter” and then must work another seven years for him to marry the one he really loved. Genesis 29:15-30.
[9] Matthew 18:20; 28:20.
[10] Walter Brueggmann, Genesis: Interpretation, A Biblical Commentary for Teaching and Preaching (Atlanta: John Knox Press, 1982), 244-246
[11] Ephesians 2:8-10.
[12] Romans 3:23; 1 Timothy 1:15
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
James 5:7-20
July 23, 2017
It’s always bittersweet coming to an end. This is my last sermon from the Epistle of James, at least for a while. We’ve covered this Epistle thoroughly. At the conclusion, James continues with his concerns about Christian behavior. Although he doesn’t use this phrase, he wants us to be ready for Jesus’ return. Let’s hear what James has to say. Read James 5:7-20
###
My mother’s daddy was a farmer. He raised tobacco. People never talked about growing tobacco. You grew corn, soybeans and alfalfa. Tobacco, you raise, much like children. It takes time and patience. Lots of patience. It was hard work that started in the middle of the winter. By February, on a sunny spot on my granddaddy’s farm there’d be hot boxes covered in white cloth spread out on the ground. From a distance, it looked like snow. Here, tobacco seeds were sown and nursed to life. When the threat of frost was over, granddaddy would transplant the young seedlings into prepared soil for the summer. For the next few months, granddaddy watched the plants carefully. He died before herbicides became overly popular, and before specialized tractors and machinery came of vogue. So granddaddy would take his mule, “Hoe Handle,” and run between the rows with a plow, knocking down the weeds. Then he and a hired hand would come between the plants with a hoe and chop out any weeds still standing.
As the plants grew, my granddaddy would look at the clouds, hoping for rain which brought more growth, but not hail which could ruin a crop and not too heavy of a rain that would splatter the lower leaves with mud and make them less valuable. There was always something that could happen. The leaves were cropped (or picked) and tied to sticks and placed in a heated barn to dry. A slip of a tobacco stick would cause the leaves to fall into the fire and burst into flames. In a moment, a chuck of his labor, all the drying tobacco along with the barn itself, became premature smoke. It took care and patience to raise a crop.
Be patience, James tells us. And then he follows his advice with an example of a farmer waiting on rain. A farmer is a useful example for us to understand this passage, for being patient didn’t mean to sit idly around waiting for God to intervene. There’s still stuff to be done while waiting for the rain, especially if we want to have a hope of a harvest. For the farmer, there were fields to be worked, equipment to be repaired, supplies to be gathered. As Christians, as James has shown throughout the book, we can’t just rest and depend on our faith. We, too, have work to do.
Let’s look at James’ message. If you remember, James ended the fourth and began the fifth chapter with a rant. In today’s reading he returns to his familiar style, referring to his readers as brothers or siblings. The “therefore” at the beginning of verse seven implies that James is giving advice of how they should handle the situation we’ve explored last week, where rich landowners were cheating their workers their wages.[1] Although James had words of judgment for those who abuse their laborers, his primary audience are those who are hurt by such actions. James encourages these workers to be patient and not to be grumbling with one another as they wait for the coming of the Lord.
Although James only specifically mentions Jesus twice in this book, back in the first two chapters, he is writing from a Christian perspective. He’s anticipating Christ’s return, when things will be make things right. He refers to the rainy cycles in Palestine. The early rains came in late fall and early winter and provided groundwater for the growth in early spring and the first harvest. The late rains came in late spring and provided a bountiful summer harvest.[2] Of course, when the rains didn’t come, as in the reference to Elijah, people suffered.
It seems to me that perhaps James’ audience, along with us, are living in that period between the first and second rain. The first sweet rain was Jesus’ first coming, the second is his return. James wants his readers to be ready and to wait with expectancy and hope (but not laziness).
In between making the case for patience, James mentions how we don’t need to be grumbling with each other. He again speaks to his audience as siblings and warns them, and us, that the judge is standing at the door. The Judge is the Lord, which ties this comment to patiently waiting. James wants his readers to endure and wait in the hope that God is merciful and compassionate and in the end justice will reign. To those who might abuse their workers, James might recall (as Paul does) the Old Testament warning: “Vengeance is mine, says the Lord.”[3]
Next, James throws a curve-ball. “Don’t swear,” he says. Where does this come from? It’s as if James had a thought that popped into his head that he wanted to make sure he conveyed. James believes that believers should have such integrity that their word is all that’s needed. Oaths, therefore, are unnecessary.[4]
It seems truth has become so a precious commodity in our day in which, at least some people, think that because they say it’s so, it’s so, as if words “construct reality.”[5] But as people who place our ultimate allegiance in Jesus, who is the truth, we must be careful that our words are not carelessly used. They must reflect what is true. It used to be that one of the highest honors one could have is to be said that your word is your bond. Today, we need to reclaim such emphasis.
Don’t swear that you’re going to do something, just do it, if it’s a good idea. We need to remember that sometimes when we “swear” we’ll do something, we put ourselves into a bind. Bede, a 7th Century English mystic, in a sermon on this passage, recalled the oath Herod made to his step-daughter. You remember, he’d give her whatever she wanted if she danced for him.[6] And, upon her mother’s advice, she asked for the head of John the Baptist. Having publicly made an oath, Herod felt he had no other choice, even though it was not what he wanted to do.[7] Bede’s example shows us the danger of us swearing we’re going to do something. As James emphasizes throughout this Epistle, we must be careful with our words.
James moves next to the topic of prayer. We pray when we have needs and when we are grateful and thankful. We pray for others, including having the elders lay hands on the sick and anointing them with oil. Our prayers are also to be honest with God, who already knows all. We confess our sins, both to one another and to God. I know some churches have done away with Prayers of Confession, but it is a fundamental part of worship. James makes this clear. By confessing to God and one another, we can experience the forgiveness of sin.
When encouraging us to have patience, James follows his advice with an example of a farmer. He does the same thing with prayer, following how important prayer is for the righteous, for those who follow the Lord. Here, James’ example is Elijah, whose prayers brought about drought and later rain. I’m sure James would agree with John Climacus, a seventh century monk, who said that prayer is a dialogue and union with God, and as such “has the effect of holding the world together.”[8]
Prayer is important, we might think, but very private. And that’s right, to a certain extent. However, James shows the importance of not just private prayer but corporate prayer, prayers that we say with others. As members of the church and followers of our Lord, we should be doing both. We need to pray for ourselves. We need to pray for others (if you don’t know where to start, take home your newsletter and go through it during the week, praying for those mentioned). We need to pray for the leaders of our church and of the world. And we need to be honest, confessing our sins.
James conclusion to his letter expresses his hope. The first century church that James addressed wasn’t perfect. There were a lot of problems as James and others in the New Testament attest. People were leaving the church. James encourages the faithful to reach out to those who are wandering lost, promising them that if they bring them back into the fold, back to Jesus, back into his church, they will not only save the sinner, but will cover a multitude of sins. There’s been lots of debate as to what this means. By reaching out and reclaiming a sinner, does this action cover the sinner’s sins or others? It could be argued either way, but what’s more important here, in the context of the whole paragraph, is the community.[9] The sinner’s sin is something the community needs to deal with (James has already made the case for the community’s prayers of confession).
In the first letter of Peter, we have a similar saying in which Peter informs us that “love covers a multitude of sin.”[10] James wants the community to be a loving community, caring for one another. When we return a sinner to the right path, we are acting in love. When we pray for one another, we act in love. And as James has points out, when we help those in need, especially the poor, we act in love. James doesn’t end his letter with prayer as a way to give us an out for not having to do anything else. He assumes that along with our prayer, we will reach out and be helpful, whether it is bringing back a sinner into the fellowship or caring for the needs of the poor. Our actions and a prayers must go together as we patiently wait in faith for what God has planned for the future.
As we’ve been talking about farmers, let me close with this story. A pastor was having dinner with an old farmer. The farmer began to pray. “Lord, I hate buttermilk.
The Pastor opened one eye and wondered to himself where this was going. Then the farmer loudly proclaimed, “Lord, I hate lard.”
Now the Pastor was worried. However, without missing a beat, the farmer prayed on, “And Lord, you know I don’t care much for raw white flour.”
Just as the Pastor was ready to stand and stop everything, the farmer continued, “But Lord, when you mix ‘em all together and bake ‘em up, I do love fresh biscuits. So, Lord, when things come up we don’t like, when life gets hard, when we just don’t understand what you are sayin’ to us, we just need to relax and wait ‘till you are done mixin’, and probably it will be somethin’ even better than biscuits.[11] Amen.”
©2017
[1] Dan G. McCartney, James: Baker Exegetical Commentary on the New Testament (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker, 2009), 240.
[2] McCartney, 241.
[3] Romans 12:19 and Deuteronomy 32:25.
[4] McCartney, 245.
[5] I’m adapted the phrase “construct reality” from the title of Peter Berger’s The Social Construction of Reality (1966).
[6] Quote from Bede in the Ancient Christian Commentary on Scripture, New Testament XI, edited by Gerald Bray (Drower’s Grove, IL: Intervarsity Press, 2000 ), 59.
[7] Matthew 14:1-11.
[8] John Climacus, A Ladder of Divine Ascent as quoted by Kathleen Norris in Amazing Grace: A Vocabulary of Faith (New York: Riverhead Books, 1988), 58.
[9] McCarthney, 262-264.
[10] 1 Peter 4:8.
[11] This story was shared by Dick Higgins and Milo Moore
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
July 16, 2017
Several of you have shared with me how much you like the book of James. You find his writings practical and helpful. We’ll see if that holds true after today. One thing about preaching through large sections of scripture is that you’re forced to deal with passages that are difficult, challenging and even boring. If one only preached from the lectionary or by selecting random passages of Scriptures, such selections would be omitted.[1] Today we’re looking at such a section of scripture.
In our reading, James, instead of his usual way of offering helpful advice, goes on a rant. As he has been throughout his Epistle, he’s concerned with our behavior and how we treat the poor. But no longer does he address his audience in a friendly tone, as if they are siblings. This section has two oracles.[2] James comes down hard on merchants and landowners who focus only on how to make money, while depriving the poor their due. I’m sure some of James’ audience thought he’d gone from preaching to meddling. Some of us may feel that way, too, but it’s important we hear what he says. This will be my eighth sermon from this epistle. I’ll concluded this series next week. Let’s listen and hear what James says, and be open to what the Spirit might be saying to us today. 
###
Although James is still concerned with themes around Christian ethics, especially the care for the poor, his writing style in our reading today is different from the other passages we’ve examined. Throughout this Epistle, James has referred to his readers as brothers. But in his section, he does not address his audience as siblings in the Lord. Instead he now goes on what I call a rant. His target are two classes of people: merchants and the wealthy landowners. We’re going to look at both passages together for they share some common traits even though there are different concerns raised.
The passage concerning merchants addresses those who state boldly what they are going to accomplish. “I’m going to do this and that…” we might brag. Now, the idea of goal setting is not what James is addressing here. Obviously, a merchant or anyone in any other kind of business, must set goals and have a plan of action if they are to successfully operate a profitable business. Otherwise we are like a boat without a rudder, being blown about haphazardly. So planning is okay, as long as we realize that we are not in control of the future. “The world and all that is in it belongs to God,” the Psalmist proclaims,[3] and that includes the future! We believe, often despite evidence to the contrary, that God is in control. That’s what faith is about. Over and over again, Jesus reminds us of this. “Do not worry about tomorrow…” and “only the Father knows the day and the hour of his return.”[4] Part of this life of faith, into which we’re called, is trusting that God has things under control. And, as we all understand, we never know when we’re going to be hit by a bus. Has that ever happened to you?
It was a bad day. Any day that starts out in the dental chair with a dentist whose hands are the size of a catcher’s mitt crammed into your mouth performing a root canal is, by definition, a bad day. I was driving home from the dentist, on a four lane road, thinking about the stuff I needed to be doing even though the side of my head was numb and I was slurring my words like a drunk… A stoplight turned red and I stopped. I looked over at the car beside me and then into the mirror and saw a bus, well behind me. Nothing seemed out of place. I look back at the light and was thinking I could really use a nap, when all a sudden there was a crash and my seatbelt caught me as everything on the seat of my truck was thrown forward. When I came too, a second or two later, I noticed that I was no longer next to that car, but was in the middle of an intersection. I looked behind and that bus was attached to my back bumper. Ever since then, I have been a weary in making light of being hit by a bus. Thankfully, no one was seriously hurt, but any plans I had for the afternoon was taken up in the emergency room and with one heck of a headache. I am sure you had similar situations, whether it was an accident. a phone call with troubling news, or a consultation with a physician. It’s amazing how quickly our lives can whirl out of our control.
James doesn’t say we shouldn’t plan for the future. If we don’t plan, nothing will get done. Instead, he suggests we acknowledge that ultimately, God is in control. Instead of bragging, “I’m going to do so-and-so,” we should couch our proclamations with an acknowledgment that this is what we are planning to do IF GOD LETS US. You know, when we do this, we are also witnessing (in subtle way) to others our belief in God.
James, in the tradition of scripture, compares our lives to eternity and reminds us that we are just a mist that appears for a little while. In Job and in Isaiah, as well as earlier in James, we’re likened to a flower in a meadow, blooming beautifully one day and wilting in the sun the next.[5] From Proverbs, we’re reminded that we should not boast about tomorrow.[6] Yes, we are to make the most of our time, but we should also humbly acknowledge our mortality and limitations.
James second oracle is addressed to rich landowners. He begins addressing them even more harshly, pointing out how nothing in this life can be safely accumulated. Again, as with the merchants, they are anticipating the future. They’re saving their riches for the last days (or in the last days, as the passage may also be translated).[7] James, living in the first century, believed Jesus’ return was going to be shortly. But it’s not the problem of savings that James condemns, it’s the methods they’ve used to accumulate their wealth. They’ve defrauded those who labored in their fields, while they have enjoyed the fruits of the land. They’ve cheated those who have worked for them.
You know, we have to be careful for sometimes we admire such people. I remember hearing about a homeowner in Savannah, who had a gate or door built especially for his home, then told the craftsman it wasn’t what he wanted and refused to pay. Later, the guy brought it as scrap, for pennies on the dollar. We might think, “Wow, that’s shrewd,” but James reminds us of the coming judgment. They’re only fattened themselves up for slaughter. Pretty harsh words!
Again, James isn’t saying anything new. Over and over again, the Old Testament reminds us to be honest in our business dealings and especially with those who have no power to protect themselves. Remember the story the Prophet Nathan told King David, when he confronted him concerning his affair with Bathsheba.[8] There was a poor man who’s sole possession and comfort in life was a little lamb that he treated as a daughter… And there was a rich man who had a large flock, but when he had guests to entertain, he took the poor man’s lamb… You remember that story? King David was rightly incensed. As King, he was ready to demand the rich man’s head.
We would be incensed, too, but we better be careful. Nathan told this story to get David’s attention. In stealing Bathsheba from Uriah, David was the man. He was the guilty party. Are we guilty? It’s complicated in today’s complex world of finance and production. We enjoy cheap prices on clothes and shoes and don’t see the sweatshops. We enjoy coffee and tea and cocoa and don’t see the conditions of the farmers. We enjoy stuff and don’t see the pollution and the hazardous working conditions that brought those products to us at a low cost.
If you really want to understand the meaning of the 10 Commandments, I suggest reading through each of the commandments in the Westminster Larger Catechism. You can find them in our Book of Order or online.[9] The eighth commandment simply reads, “Thou shall not steal.” What does that mean. In the Catechism, we have two long paragraphs, the first telling us the duties required by this commandment and the second outlining what is prohibited. Of course, theft and robbery are at the top of the list, but then there’s receiving stolen goods, removing property boundaries, being unfaithful in contracts, oppression, extortion, usury, bribery, frivolously lawsuits, hoarding commodities to enhance price (gouging, I think we call that), other unjust ways to take what belongs to our neighbor, unjust enclosures and unlawful depopulation, among others…[10]
That unjust enclosures and unlawful depopulation charge, which was written into the Catechism in the 17th Century, is an interesting one. In the Highlands of Scotland, people are still upset over the clearances, which began a century later. You see evidences of this today with lots of ruined stone huts standing out in empty meadows. The clearances occurred when large tracks of land were given to nobles. The poor, who were considered squatters even though they’d lived on the land for centuries, were pushed into the cities to labor in factories. Many even fled to North America, where ironically they participated in pushing the natives off their land…
“Thou shalt not steal covers shoplifting, bank robbery and auto-theft, which are things for which most of us aren’t even tempted. But it also covers a whole lot more and if we dig into it, we might find things for which we need to confess and repent. Have we benefited from the demise of others? Probably!
Verse six may sound extreme, the taking of another life. Is James referring to Christ’s death or that of a laborer? We could take this passage either way. When we sin against Christ, we are as guilty as those who crucified him. But it could also refer to defrauding a worker. As in chapter four, where James speaks metaphorically about murder,[11] he is doing the same thing here. Depriving another the ability to earn their living is understood as being tantamount to murder.[12]
There are two broad points in our passage this morning. We need to remember that God, not us, is in control of the future. Secondly, we need to be honest in our dealings with others, especially being mindful how we participate in markets that deprive others of the ability to earn and enjoy a living. The first may be easier for us to accomplish, but they’re both important. How can we live in a manner that will honor the labor of all? That’s something those of us who enjoy the benefits of abundance must ask ourselves. Amen.
©2017
[1] This passage does not appear in the Revised Common Lection most often used by Presbyterians, nor does it appear in the Lutheran and United Methodist lectionaries. Part of it does appear in the Roman Catholic and Episcopal lectionaries.
[2] Dan G. McCartney, ‘James: Baker Exegetical Commentary on the New Testament (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker, 2009)., 233-234.
[3] Psalm 24:1. See also Psalm 50:12, 89:11 and 98:7.
[4] Matthew 6:34 and 24:36.
[5] Job 14:2, Isaiah 40:7-8. James has already mentioned this (1:11) and this comparison is also found in 1 Peter 1:24.
[6] Proverbs 27:1.
[7] This phrase could be translated “for the last days” or “in these last days” See McCartney, 233.
[8] 2 Samuel 12:1-15.
[9] https://www.pcusa.org/site_media/media/uploads/oga/pdf/boc2014.pdf
[10]Presbyterian Church USA, Book of Confession, Westminster Larger Catechism, Questions 140-141.
[11] James 4:2.
[12] McCarthy 235-236. Although not scripture, this is clearly seen in the Apocryphal/Deuterocanonical Books. See Sirach 25-27.
Rosalind K. Marshall, Columba’s Iona: A New History (Dingwall, Scotland, UK: Sandstone Press, 2014) 210 pages plus 24 color plates, 8 black and white plates, notes, bibliography, and index.
One must make a significant effort to visit Iona. It’s a small island in the Inner Hebrides, just to the west of the Isle of Mull. Such a trip usually involves traveling by car, bus or train from Glasgow to Oban, a ferry ride to the Isle of Mull, a long journey on a one lane road across Mull, and then a short ferry ride to Iona. Leaving Glasgow on an 8 AM train will allow one to arrive on Iona just before dinner. Despite the remoteness of the island, people have been coming to Iona ever since Columba, an Irish monk, supposedly landed there on Pentecost 563.
Marshall’s book, which was commissioned for the 1450th anniversary of Columba’s landing, provides a quick but well researched overview of the island’s history. She refuses to just recite traditional accounts and is willing to call into question many of the legends that exist about the island. Was Columba the first missionary to Scotland? Did he really have 12 monks with him or was this suggested to link his followers with Jesus’ disciples? Was the real reason for Columba leaving Ireland a burning desire for evangelism or were there political factors that caused him to seek a new place to build a religious community? She also raises other questions. Did the carving of large stone Celtic crosses begin on Iona and then spread to Ireland? Unfortunately, there is little written history to allow us to understand all this. What was written, such as a biography of Columba by his disciple Adomnan, included fantastic myths obviously written to enhance the saintly status of the abbot. According to mythology, Columba even chastised the Loch Ness monster after it had eaten a man (supposedly the monster has since found new sources of food).
There are four distinct periods in Iona’s history. We don’t know much about the early period, except that the community flourished and became a regional center between Ireland and the Islands off West Scotland. During this era, Iona wasn’t as isolated as today. In the 6th Century, sea travel was easier than traveling overland on non-existent roads, and Iona’s location played a role in its prominence. Even the famed “Book of Kell’s” was produced in Iona. In its second period, Iona’s location led to its demise as the ancestors of Hagar the Horrible (yes, the guy in the comic strip!) sailed down from Scandinavian countries looking for loot. Churches and monasteries were favorite targets for their treasures. On several occasions, Viking raiders sacked Iona and many of the monks were killed. Being exposed to the sea made Iona dangerous and its center of learning, along with its treasures, were moved back to Ireland. However, a few monks continued to remain on Iona and throughout this time, pilgrims did come to the place where Saint Columba died. The island also became a favorite burial place for Scottish and even some Scandinavian kings. The “who’s who” of legend include kings MacBeth and MacDuff, both immortalized by Shakespeare.
After the Viking threat faded, Columba’s old community was replaced with a Benedictine abbey which contained the stone edifice that still stands (although reconstructed). Just to the south of the abbey was a Augustinian priory. In the centuries leading up to the Reformation, these two communities, one male and the other female, existed side by side. The ruins of the nunnery have been shored up and can be viewed today. In 1560, the Scottish Church reformed and most priests became Protestant ministers. The communities slowly ceased to exist and in time the roofs collapsed, leaving only ruins. Yet, people still kept coming to Iona, including many notable ones: Joseph Banks, a famous naturalist; Dr. Samuel Johnson, James Boswell, Sir Walter Scott and John Keats, all known in the world of English literature; and the composer Felix Mendelssohn. Although Marshall doesn’t mention it, Robert Lewis Stevenson may have visited Iona. In Kidnapped, the ship upon which David Balfour has been enslaved rounds Iona before it flounders on the Torran Rocks, south of Mull. This area was known to Stevenson as his father had built a lighthouse on the rocks. That lighthouse can be seen at night from the high points on Iona. Throughout this period of time, between the Reformation and the end of the 19th Century, the ruins were owned by the Duke of Argyll. He allowed a variety of religious denominations to hold worship services in the ruins on the island, but no community existed except for those who farmed or fished there.
The final period for Iona began when the 8th Duke of Argyll sought to protect and restore the ruins. A staunch Presbyterian, he donated the ruins to the Church of Scotland (a Presbyterian Church) before his death. The deed was transferred with the stipulation that the site had to be open to worship by all Christian denominations. Marshall does a good job navigating the reader through the political and ecclesiastical minefields as debates were held over how best to handle the properties. The Great Depression and a series of wars (the Boer War and the two World Wars) complicated matters. A trust was set up to manage the property and eventually a community was founded by the Rev. George MacLeod, a pacifist Christian Socialist. The two groups (the trustees and the Iona Community) have not always had the same vision, as Marshall illustrates. The primary concern of one was restoration. The other wanted a community that could help build Christian communities. MacLeod saw Iona as a place to train people to go back into the world to work for peace and for the poor. He also desired it to be a place where new forms of worship could be tested.
I recommend this book to anyone interested in knowing more about Iona. It was the most detailed history available at the Iona bookstore. The book certainly fulfills the needs of the Trust for a 1450th anniversary book, but personally, I would have liked for the book to have been a little more encompassing and include some of the natural history of the island. Perhaps such a book will be posted at the 1500th anniversary, if I’m around to read it.
Rainbow over Mull, seen from the north point on Iona
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
July 9, 2017
James 4:1-12
It’s good to be back with you. Thanks to the hard work of many of you, there is an excitement around here about our upcoming 40th Anniversary. It’s something to be celebrated especially as we look forward into where God is leading us as a congregation as we move toward our golden anniversary and beyond.
To put this in perspective, the last two Lord’s Day I have worship in Scotland at sites upon which there have been a Christian presence since the sixth century—nearly 1500 years! One was the Abbey in Iona and the other was Kilmore Church on the Isle of Skye. Such Christian presence remind us there will be good days and bad. After all, these were sites that had been plundered by Vikings. They’d faced other challenges, yet they continued to worship our Eternal God, whose faithfulness is unending. 
Another one of the many religious sites I visited while away still has a few centuries to go to make it to the 1500th year mark. St. Cultbert’s Parish Church in Edinburgh has a mere 1200 year history. It’s not as well-known as St. Giles, the Cathedral, but the church is actually much older. If you’re in the city, you can find the church at the western foot of hill upon which Edinburgh Castle sits. Sadly, the church wasn’t open the day I was there, but I enjoyed my time loitering around the outside of the building and graveyard.
At the very front of the church, there is a monument built into the front wall of the church that caught my attention. It was for the Reverend David Dickson who died in 1842. There was a marble sculpture of him and, I assume, his wife with three of their six children. Underneath the statues was a plaque bragging on this “accomplished scholar and theologian,” who served the church for 40 years. That’s a long time but only a drop in the bucket in the history of the church. The plaque went on to boast how the good minister was “sound in doctrine, earnest in exhortation, in labor unwavering, acute in argument, expert in business, affectionate, generous, affable and accessible to all.” Reading this, my sarcasm along with my Calvinistic views of sin and depravity kicked in. I thought to myself: “He couldn’t have been that good. They elevated him up right up next to our Lord.”
I was lead to do more research and realized he must have been accomplished. After all, he preached at Sir Walter Scott’s funeral. He also was known for his work amongst the Edinburgh poor.
We may never earn or receive the accolades of Reverend Dickson, but hopefully others will see goodness in us, just as Dickson’s congregation saw such goodness in him. Such praise should not make us prideful nor should it be lauded upon us, but upon our Lord who forgives us and teaches us how to live lives that are gentle and humble, lives in which we strive for holiness. That’s what the book of James is all about. How do we live the Christian life? How do we strive to be more Christ-like? To be more holy?
We’re in the fourth chapter today as we continue to work our way through this short book. Three weeks ago, when I last preached here, James addressed his concerns with how Christians use language and words. Now he addresses the motives behind our actions. He’s pretty tough with his audience, for he knows they (and we) are often too willing to embrace the cultural standards of this world instead of the standards set by God. This is my sixth sermon on this book. I have two more coming. Let’s listen to Scripture and see what God’s Spirit has to say to us this morning. Read James 4:1-12.
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The New Testament Church was far from perfect, as we see over and over again in the Epistles. I want us to be a church that struggles to be more Christ-like, but as we read the Scriptures, we see that’s nothing new. It’s always been a struggle. Johnathan Swift, the patron saint of the sarcastic[1], once observed, “We have just enough religion to make us hate one another, but not enough to make us love one another.” We need to work on this!
Barbara Brown Taylor, an Episcopal priest from North Georgia, writes:
Because we are human, which is to say essentially self-interested, we are always looking for ways to add a little more authority to our causes, to come up with better reasons to fight for what we want… If we can convince ourselves that God wants it too—even if that means making God in our image so we can deny the image of God in our enemies—then we are free to engage in combative piety. We are free to harm others not for our own reasons but in the name of God, which allows us to feel holy about doing it instead of just plain bad. [2]
Covetousness and pride are not only sin, according to James, they are sources of conflict. When we think too much of ourselves, or think too much of what others have, we fuel an internal conflict that often erupts in inappropriate external behaviors.
James is writing to a troubled church. It’s a church that emphasizes God’s grace so much that they forget about the law. Disregarding the law is problematic. For you see, God intends his law be boundaries within which we can enjoy our lives to the fullness. Within these broad boundaries, as summarized in the 10 commandments, we can live and enjoy life as God intends. But when we move outside these boundaries, we run into trouble. Not only do we break our relationship with God, we damage relationships with others. It’s important we consider the results of our sin. And sin is not always overt—such as stealing, lying, killing or adultery. Just as dangerous are the more hidden sins: coveting that which we don’t have, or taking excessive pride in that which we do have. These are the kind of sin James is driving at in these verses. It’s the desire for physical pleasures for our own self-gratification along with those desires for power and honor that drive us to do things that are unbecoming of our calling as a follower of Jesus.[3]
According to James, quarreling, bickering and fighting are symptomatic signs of an inner struggle within our hearts. As with Jesus in the Sermon of the Mount, James calls for a change of heart, a heart transplant so to speak, which will remove the source of our inner conflicts and allow us to live more peacefully with one another. As I’ve said, according to James, sin is not just an observable action; it also resides in our thoughts and in the motives behind our actions. We have to examine ourselves, our motives, and acknowledge to God and ourselves the darkness that resides inside. Barring this, we’ll find ourselves in constant struggles and disputes and be unable to enjoy our lives and our salvation as God intends.
James is aware of these internal struggles. We want something and commit murder. James is not talking only about capital murder, the actual taking of a life. That may occasionally happen, but he’s referring to how we go about destroying another person, much in the same way Jesus links murder and rage in the Sermon on the Mount. [4] We can, through our actions and words, do great harm to another soul, even though we never set out to physically kill them. This is why James warns us to examine our motives. He also calls those who struggle in this way adulterers. Again, he’s not referring just to those who run out on their spouse, although that may be the case at times. He’s mainly referring to those who run away from God and embrace the standards of the world. In the Hebrew Scriptures, God often uses adultery and sexual infidelity as examples when he challenges idolaters—when he indicts those who worship false gods.
As Christians, we should trust God, revealed through Jesus Christ. We should experience a certain level of contentment that assures us that whatever happens, God will be with us and will take care of us. Such a life will be able to resist the temptation to chase after other idols that are present in our world.
James is telling us to clean up our houses and remove any idols that might tempt us to abandon our trust in God and to place it in something less. First of all, we need to remove those temptations to go after things that are harmful… But the problem run even deeper. Our idols might not be, in and of themselves, bad. God created and loves the world, we’re told. This is a good creation in which we find ourselves and we should take delight in it. But our ultimate love is not to this creation, as wonderful as it is, but to the one who created it. We’re to love the Creator. Our allegiance, our heart, belongs first and foremost to God.
Beginning with verse 7, James renews his call for us to submit to God and to resist the lures of the world and of the evil one. He calls for honest confession, a willingness to cleanse and to humble ourselves before God. 
Now look at verse 11. After having called his readers murderers and adulterers and insinuating other bad things, we see he’s not giving up on them. In verse 11, he returns to calling them brothers and sisters. As one commentator notes, “Despite his strong rhetoric, he acknowledges them as his siblings in the Lord.”[5] Therefore, they too, should acknowledge one another within the faith, as he begins to give advice about how we’re to relate to those within God’s covenant. He reminds them, and us, that we’re not the judge. That’s God’s job. And we can be thankful for God is going to be a lot more gracious than we often are with one another. In fact, it is because of God’s grace that we should show such grace to one another. Do we? That’s a question we each must ask ourselves. Amen.
[1] This is my title for Swift, an English author, theologian and parish minister. As far as I know, Swift was never officially given such a title.
[2] Barbara Brown Taylor, An Altar in the World (New York: HarperCollins, 2009), 99.
[3] Dan G. McCartney, James: Baker Exegetical Commentary on the New Testament (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker, 2009), 2007.
[4] Matthew 5:21-22.
[5] McCartney, 220.
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
June 18, 2017
James 3:1-12
Barbara Brown Taylor, in her book Speaking of Sin, tells about a Lebanese Presbyterian classmate of hers in seminary. This guy threw, what she called, a “theological temper tantrum.” “All you Americans care about is justification!” he howled. “You love sinning and being forgiven, sinning and being forgiven, but no one seems to want off that hamster wheel. Have you ever heard of sanctification? Is anyone interested in learning to sin a little less?”[1] James would agree. That’s what his Epistle is all about.
In our reading today, as we continue to work through this book, James is concerned with our language. We’re all heard that childhood ditty, “Sticks and stones may break my but bones, but words will never harm me.” And, I’m willing to bet, all of us have been harmed by words. Words hurt. They break friendships and families and can lead to wars between nations. I’m sure all of us have felt sucker-punched by what someone said about us at one point or another in our lives. Words have the potential to bring about great harm.
We’ve all been shocked this week by the shooting at a congressional baseball practice. Such is an example of political rhetoric out of control—something that all sides are doing. When we carelessly use language about our opponents in a way to gain a political advantage, we take a great risk. Although such language may be meant metaphorically, the hate builds up in us and in others. As the pressure increases inside us, sooner or later we may explode and do something irrational. Or, someone listening may take what’s said literally and act.
Another shocking event this week the court case in Massachusetts of a young woman who had encouraged her boyfriend to commit suicide. She was found guilty of involuntary manslaughter. Her defense was partially built around him having talked about suicide for some time. But she had egged him on including telling him, via text message, to get back in the truck as it was filling with carbon monoxide. One law professor noted that this ruling reminds us that the “behavior we sometimes attribute to odd teenage behavior can actually be so extreme that it’s homicide.[2]
James reminds us that we need to watch our language and control our tongues. READ JAMES 3:1-12.
Do you get the idea that James thinks we have a problem with our tongues? Yeah?
An old country church called a new preacher, fresh out of seminary. He was ready to convert the world and was enthusiastically greeted at his new church. They thought he was the best thing since sliced bread. Good looking, smooth talking, graced with manners, he was a sight to behold and all the women loved him and mothered him. On his first Sunday he preached about the sins of whiskey and old Ida Mae, sitting on the back row, shouted “Amen.” Next Sunday he got onto the men who ran around with loose women and Ida Mae, sitting on the back row, shouted, “Preach it Brother.” Then he went on to preach about the sins of not keeping the Sabbath and Ida Mae, sitting on the back row, shouted, “You tell ‘em, Preacher.” But then he started a sermon about gossip and how loose lips not only sink ships but create conflict in the church and Ida Mae, sitting on the back row, jumped up, shook her first at the preacher, and challenged him saying, “Mister, you’ve just gone from preaching to meddling.”
It is so easy to see the sins of others. Mark Twain nailed human nature when he proclaimed, “There’s nothing that needs reforming so much as other people’s bad habits.” Before we start in on other people’s bad habits, we need to confront our own. Remember, Jesus said to take the log out of our own eyes before we try to remove a speck from the eye of another.[3] Today we’re looking at a sin of which we’re all guilty.
The Bible is concerned with truth and with the control of our tongues. One of the commandments is “Thou shall not bear false witness…” Jesus told his followers at the Sermon on the Mount, “say yes or no, anything more comes from the evil one.” Many of the Proverbs, as we read earlier, extol the virtue of honesty.[4] We got to be careful with what we say. Outright lies are condemned, but so are idle words that create disharmony.
Our passage this morning begins with a concern James has for those who are teachers. James advises that many should not become teachers because teachers will be judged more severely. James must not have had the problem of recruiting Sunday School teachers! This isn’t a normal method of advertising for a teacher— reminding them they will be judged more severely. But I don’t believe James is talking about teaching in general, but about the office of a preacher or a theologian. However, don’t think you’re completely off the hook. Remember, in a way we are all teachers. Have you ever considered this? Other people learn by what they see us doing. So don’t let this passage keep you from volunteering to teach Sunday School, Let instruct our lives.
In a way our passage this week is similar to our passage last week. Last week, James began with a rhetorical question then moved into pairs of examples of good and bad behavior based on the question. This week, James begins with a strong statement and, again, follows with several pairs of examples of how we might tame the tongue. He compares the tongue to a bit that directs an animal’s movements, then to a rudder of a ship, which, although small, can steer a great vessel. He also says the tongue is like fire which, although small, can blaze and consume a forest. Likewise, the tongue, which is certainly one of the smaller members of a body, is able to stain the whole body. Yes, we can use the tongue, as James suggests, to glorify God, but we can just as easily use it to curse someone. It’s a tool that can be easily corrupted; it’s an organ that’s hard to tame, so we need to be very careful with our use of language, with our speech. We need to consider the impact our words have on others. Do we speak the truth in the love? Do we use our words to build up the self-esteem of others, or do we use them to tear others down in the mistaken belief we’ll look better?
In a book titled The Peacemaker, Ken Sande outlines the variety of ways we, as Christians, participate in “sinful speech.”[5] It can simply be the use of reckless words that we unthinkingly throw out when we’re angry or confronted with a challenge. Proverbs tell us, as we heard earlier, that “reckless words pierce like a sword.” We are not only to avoid deliberately hurting others, we are also commanded to make an effort not to hurt others in our reckless use of language.
Another area in which an uncontrolled tongue gets us in trouble is with grumbling, complaining and gossiping. Such negative talk offends people and depresses others, especially when it serves no legitimate purpose. As Christians, we need to be lifting up one another, not tearing each other down which is what happens when we grumble, complain or pass on gossip. And we’re all guilty, myself included.
Sometimes, the sinfulness that rolls off our tongues is done purposefully. Lying, whether a bold-faced one or the misrepresentation of the truth, is an example. Our system of justice depends upon telling the truth. Eventually liars have their day in court or they lose prestige and are no longer trusted, but until then liars can create a lot of destruction. Also in the category is slander, willfully spreading false ideas about another person. In Second Timothy, we’re told to have nothing to do with such people.[6]
As Christians, we need to be truthful and to control our tongues so our words are used to build up one another, not to tear one another down. We need to watch what we say. Remember that other people look to us, as Christians, and from our words and actions they develop an impression on what it means to be a disciple of Jesus Christ.
Jack Kornfield is an author who writes about spirituality from an American Buddhist perspective, yet draws upon a broad theological base, especially from the early Christian mystics. Although I wish he was Christian, there is much we can learn from him and his perspective. In discussing how we’re to live into our truth, Kornfield writes:
We live in undeniable connectedness with all life. Every word we speak, ever action we initiate creates a ripple upon this relationship. Understanding this connectedness brings a sacredness to each moment. There is no contact, no perception, no engagement that is inconsequential or insignificant.”[7]
Think about our words creating a ripple through all our relationships… He’s saying, essentially, the same thing that James said. We must be careful and take responsibility. What we say and do affects how we’re connected to others.
Every word and every action can be sanctified and used in a godly manner in that we become co-creators with God in the building up of his kingdom. Likewise, every word and every action can be demonized and used in a destructive manner, which puts us in alliance with that guy we envision with horns and a pitchfork. 
Before you say something that may be damaging, pray about it. Or before you write a letter in response to an issue that raises your blood pressure, put that letter in a draft file and come back to it in a day or two. This is the danger of instant messaging. We speak without thinking or without having all the facts. When you refrain from sending the letter immediately, you may find some edits you’d like to make. But if you mail it off, or send it out as a post, it’s too late. As James says, it’s like setting a forest on fire. You’re not going to be able to control it.
By the way, I did this just this week. An issue with a group I’m a member of rose up. Even though it didn’t directly affect me, I was upset and wrote a letter. Others, too, were making statements in group emails. But I refrained from sending mine. It was a good thing. The letter I’d written sounded real good when I was hot. But when I thought about it and slept on it, I realized this fire didn’t need any more gasoline.
Put away any letters you write when angry. Go for a walk or get a night’s sleep. When you come back, you just might see an edit or two that would be helpful.
Whether writing letters, tweeting, posting blogs, commenting on Facebook, or talking face-to-face, we must seek to build up and not tear down. Amen.
©2017
[1] Barbara Brown Taylor, Speaking of Sin: The Lost Language of Salvation (Cambridge, MA: Cowley, 2000), 86.
[2] https://1legal.com/woman-is-found-guilty-of-involuntary-manslaughter-for-encouraging-boyfriends-suicide-with-texts/
[3] Matthew 7:3-5, Luke 6:41-42.
[4] Exodus 20:16, Deuteronomy 5:20, Proverbs 12:17-22, Matthew 5:37.
[5] Ken Sande, The Peacemaker: A Biblical Guide to Resolving Personal Conflict (Grand Rapids: Baker, 1997), 94-97.
[6] 2 Timothy 3:3.
[7] Jack Kornfield and Christina Feldman, Soul Food: Stories to Nourish the Spirit and the Heart (SF: HarperSanFrancisco, 1996), 264.
Jane Dawson, John Knox, (New Haven: Yale, 2015), 373 pages, index and notes and 8 pages of illustrations.
John Knox, the Protestant Reformer of Scotland, is often portrayed as a dour masochistic preacher and an opponent of Mary, Queen of Scots. In this new biography of the Scottish Reformer Jane Dawson paints a different view of the man. She begins with a description of Knox having his first child baptized in Geneva, while he was exiled. It was a happy time of life for a man who was often depressed. But then, Knox had a rough life. George Wishart, who led Knox into the Protestant fold, was burned at the stake in St. Andrews, Scotland, only six weeks after Knox’s conversion. After the first attempt to bring reform failed in Scotland, with Mary Guise reclaiming Catholic control of Scotland, Knox found himself chained to an ore in the galley of a ship. This was a time of physical suffering from which Knox never fully recovered. After being freed, Knox went to England where he served as a pastor, but as the Catholics began to roll back some of the early reforms in England, he fled to Europe, where he met with John Calvin in Geneva and Henry Bullinger in Zurich.
Knox was always a bit ornery. He fought against the prayer book of the Anglican Church, a conflict that would continue to haunt him on the continent especially during his tenure with the English congregation in Frankfurt. While in Geneva, he helped produce the Geneva Bible (an English Bible that was considered so anti-royalty that it encouraged King James to call for another translation), the Psalter, and a book on church discipline. Knox and Calvin had different views of the church. Calvin felt the true church needed two “marks”: the preaching of the Word and the sacraments. Knox added a third mark: discipline. Knox concern for church discipline and the “cleansing of the church,” reflects his black and white views, but also made him less willing to compromise. Knox could get overly zealous. When he first arrived on the continent, both Calvin and Bullinger encouraged him to cool down.
Knox later returned to Scotland, having been invited by royalty who were devoted to the devoted to the Protestant. He would serve as a chaplain for the Lords of the Congregation during their fight against the Catholic forces in Scotland. This was a troubling time. Scotland was involved in a civil war. There was always a chance that France would come to the aid of Catholics in Scotland. Knox, having spent time in England, had a vision of a united Protestant island (this would come about long after his death). It was also an interesting time, as religion was not the only dividing issue. There were even Protestants who support Mary, Queen of Scots. Knox had his own battles with the English reformation (especially on the Prayer Book and vestments). The author points out how Knox’s stubbornness kept the Scottish and English Reformations separate.
Another example of Knox stubbornness was his first book, a tract written against female leadership. John Calvin warned against publishing this tract, suggesting he might come to regret it. The tract was primarily directed at the Catholic Marys, whom he had battled in Scotland. But his language against women leadership was so strong Queen Elizabeth (a Protestant) also detested Knox. It is this tract that normally leads people to consider Knox to be masochistic, but as Dawson points out, Knox got along well with women. He had several who served as advisers. He also loved both of his wives and was in deep grief following his first wife’s death.
Bouts of depression often haunted Knox. He was constantly in fear of losing the Reformation in Scotland, a fear that was based on the political reality more than a theological trust in God. In an era where most sermons were from the New Testament, Knox often preached from the Old Testament. He saw himself as a modern day Ezekiel. His favorite book (his anchor) was the Gospel of John and at his death he asked to have the 17th Chapter of John’s Gospel. Although Knox’s preaching was strong, criticism of sermons bothered him and he took such comments personally. Later in his life, his voice was so weak that he struggled to preach (often preaching in the chapel instead of the main sanctuary).
In addition to the tons of material available on Knox’s life, Dawson drew upon the papers of Christopher Goodman that have only recently been made available. Goodman and Knox worked together when they were both exiled on the Continent (working with English speaking congregations in Frankfurt and Geneva) and later in Scotland. Although Goodman left Scotland for Ireland (Knox even considered joining him there in an evangelical mission), the two remained close the rest of their lives through correspondence.
This book is a great introduction to the life of John Knox and the world in which he lived. Knox is a complicated man. There were much to admire in him, as well as stuff to detest. On a political level, his view of a “united kingdom,” that would eventually come about, was prophetic. On an ecclesiastical level, his opposition to a prayer book that controlled worship and to clerical garments which he felt were too close to the Roman Catholic Mass has provided Presbyterians with freer forms and styles of worship. But his strict view of the church and discipline brought a harshness into Presbyterianism that has been hard to shake.
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
James 2:14-26
June 10, 2017
“Prayers never gets grass out de field,” Archibald Rutledge writes quoting from an African American who worked on his plantation in South Carolina in the early 20th Century. I recently finished reading Gods’ Children, one of Rutledge’s books, at the suggestion of Margaret Reagan. As for this quote, Rutledge notes how it gives validity that faith without works is vain.[1] Faith without works, that brings us to the Epistle of James…
Today we’re going to look at a key section in James. This is the part with whichMartin Luther had problems, where he felt James contradicted Paul.[2] But does James? That’s a question with which we need to wrestle. What is the relationship between faith and works? Let’s find out. I’m going to read James 2:14-26 from The Message translation, but I want you to follow along. Use your own Bibles if you have them, or a pew Bibles, or one from your smart phone. And let’s keep these Bibles open throughout the sermon so you can check what I’m saying. Listen…
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I was a young teenager in the early 70s. Nixon was President. At the time, the Vietnam War was continuing on and on and on. Although I would read the newspaper and a few serious magazines like Newsweek, the one magazine that I devoured was MAD. It seemed to be such a serious time, but MAD found humor everywhere and offered a healthy release to the tensions of the world in which I found myself. To this day, there are a number of comic panels from MAD that I still vividly remember. One had to do with a description of various kinds of churches. When they described the Quakers, they showed a guy looking the dude on a Quaker Oats box and said there were a million Quakers in the United States. The second panel showed President Nixon and said he was a Quaker. The third panel noted how Quakers don’t believe in war. The final panel said, “That makes 999,999.”
In a way, religion is an easy target for comedians. As Christians, we must admit our own sinfulness. We set the bar high, with Jesus as an example, and we fail to live up to our standard. But by setting the bar high, we strive and do better. Yes, we’re all hypocritical at times, but thankfully our salvation doesn’t depend us obtaining a 100% score on our life’s test. That said, we can’t just throw up our hands and give up or say we just depend on faith and not strive to live better. Our faith must result in action. That’s James point here. Faith results in a change for the better.
Much has been made, especially since Martin Luther, about how our passage today undermines our faith. Luther, who was so moved by Paul’s writings, especially from Romans and Galatians, felt that James was contradicting Paul. But that’s not the case. Paul was concerned about how faith in Christ can make us righteous before God. Paul insists that we can never be made totally righteous by ourselves. That’s only done through God in Christ Jesus. But even Paul goes on to say that we are given faith, which makes us righteous before God, in order that we might do good works![3] James, who is writing to the faithful, is more concerned about how we live out their lives. With Christ at the center, there should be a change as to how we act, for we live not for ourselves, but for the Lord.
James begins our reading with a rhetorical question. “What good is it, my brothers and sisters, if you say you have faith but do not have works?” Although James definitely wants his readers to change their lives, he’s not trying to demean them. He places himself on their level, calling them brothers and sisters. James realizes that we all sin, that we’re in need of a Savior, but he wants us to understand that to have true faith, there must be a change in how we live. James is writing out of love and concern for fellow believers.
Understand this. “James does not say, ‘If someone has faith but not works!’” Instead, James says, “If someone says they have faith, or claims to have faith. In such a case the claim to faith isn’t validated. Faith is not just talk. True faith requires action, a change in a life.[4]
You know, when asked, a very high percentage of Americans still say they are Christian. But are they in church on Sunday? Are they involved in ministries that help the poor? Do they watch what they say and make sure their words honor God? James is concerned for the Christian community (think of attending church). James is concerned with the care for the poor (think of helping ministries). And James is also concern with our speech (think of controlling our tongues). This rhetorical question, “you say have faith but not works,” could be put to Americans who claim to be believers, but don’t walk the talk. Yet, we must be careful and not think that James’ words only apply to others. Even those of us who are inside the church struggle to live up to the standard set before us by our Savior, and we’re the ones to whom James is writing.
After asking this rhetorical question, James follows a well-known Greek pattern of dialogue. He answers objections before they are raised. First, he provides two examples of what he talking about (so-called faith without works), then he gives two examples of those who have faith and how it resulted in action.
In the first example, James speaks of a brother and sister of the faith who is down and out. They’re hungry and cold and the supposedly Christian passes them by saying Shalom, offering a blessing upon them. What good is the blessing if you had a way to help? Will this build up the faith of the down-and-out brother or sister? If they’re questioning their faith, they might just decide it’s not worth their time. If we can do something for someone in need, especially someone within the fold, we need to do it. Now granted, there may be times when “tough love” is required, but even then it must be done with respect and in love.
James’ second example is the person who proclaims the truth of God—that there is only one true God—and James reminds us that this isn’t enough for “even demons believe and they shutter.” This is an example where belief in God should lead us to change, for we don’t want to be a minion of Satan. To have a saving belief in God requires us to strive to be godly.
James first example of faith causing good works is Abraham’s willingness to offer Isaac up as a sacrifice.[5] Here, I agree with Luther. I’m not sure why James used this story. Why didn’t he use the story of Abraham setting out from Ur when he was an old man?[6] That story also shows faith resulting in actions and we avoid the problems around the possibility of child sacrifice.
James’ second example is Rahab.[7] This one causes us to stop and ponder. Rahab was a prostitute. We don’t generally think of prostitutes being “good” or doing “good works.” But Rahab had faith. She knew what the Hebrew God was up to, so she hid the spies Joshua had sent into the Promised Land. By the way, let me point out that from my experience, actions that are a result of faith almost always involve risk! Rahab, because of her occupation, would be condemned in polite company. Yet she was justified for her faith and action, and survived the conquest.
Let me reiterate. When James writes about how our faith must result in actions, he is not dealing with the same issues Paul dealt with when he wrote about how through faith we are justified. Paul was writing about how we, as sinners, will be able to stand before God’s judgment throne. James, on the other hand, writes about how we should live out our faith in this life.
It is also important for us to understand that James is interested in the well-being of the Christian community. Too often we think of our faith being private, but such ideas were foreign in the first century. We tend to individualize everything, but much of scripture is about a people who live faithfully before God. If our faith is only for our personal benefit, we got a problem. As one commentator wrote, “If our faith does not benefit others, it will not benefit you either.”[8] What difference does your faith in Jesus mean to others? That’s a question that this passage leaves for us to ponder, and it’s a question I hope you take with you to chew on when you leave this morning. What difference does your faith in Jesus seen by others?
James wraps up this section of his teaching with a proverb. Just as the body without the spirit is dead, so faith without works is also dead. With that in mind, remember the saying that I opened with? “Prayers never gets grass out de field.” Let me close with another parable that says something similar. “If you dug a well, but there was no water in it, what good is that?”[9] Friends, I hope there’s water in your well, and that you’re willing to share. Amen.
©2017
[1] Archibald Rutledge, God’s Children (1937), Kindle Edition, location 503.
[2] Carol J. Miller, Faith and Works: Galatians and James, Leader’s Guide. (Pittsburgh: Kerygma, 2012), 91.
[3] Ephesians 2:10.
[4] Dan G. McCartney, James: Baker Exegetical Commentary on the New Testament (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker, 2009), 155.
[5] Genesis 22:1-14.
[6] Genesis 12:1-4.
[7] Joshua 2:1-14.
[8] McCartney, 157.
[9] McCartney, 156.
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
James 2:1-14
June 4, 2017
It’s Pentecost. Why did God send his Spirit down upon the church like flames of fire? Was it just to help us get to heaven or did God want us to live in a particularly manner? James, which we’re currently working through, suggests the latter even though it has eternal implications. If you’d like to know more about this book, I’d encourage you to come to the Bible study on Wednesday night. You’ll even be fed a light dinner, which is all most of us need.
I don’t watch the NBA very often. The league is about to wrap up for the year, which is about time as basketball feels out of place in the summer. I find great truth in the wisdom of the Rev. Will B. Dunn (a character in Doug Marlette’s Kudzu comic strip) who, when asked what eternity would be like responded, “Like the NBA playoffs, only shorter.”
That said, this week the world of basketball emerged in the regular news cycle when Lebron James’ 21 million dollar mansion in Southern California was vandalized with a racial slur written across the front of the home. In an interview with ESPN, James said this:
[It] just shows that racism will always be a part of the world, part of America, Hate in America, especially for African-Americans, is living every day. It is hidden most days. It is alive every single day… No matter how much money you have, how famous you are, how much people admire you, being black in America is tough.[1]
In writing to the Romans, Paul tells us that God shows no partiality and in his letter to the Galatians, he notes God’s acceptance of all races.[2] James, as he interprets the gospel into what it means when we put it into action through our lives, shows us how we often show partiality and why it’s wrong. It’s not a gospel value. Looking down on others—due to their race, their status in society, or any other reason—is wrong. Let’s hear what James has to say as I read the first thirteen verses of the second chapter.
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One of the last Kudzu strips to run, which was after the author’s death, featured the Reverend Will B. Dunn at a funeral. He’s standing behind a casket. He expresses sympathy to the family of the deceased who are grieving over the premature death of the one in the casket. Then he commends the deceased for not only talking the talk, but walking the walk, something James was concerned about as we’ve seen. But unfortunately, the good Reverend said, “he liked talking the talk on the cell phone while driving.”[3] As we learn from Ecclesiastes, there’s a time and place for everything.[4] Talk the talk and walk the walk, just don’t talk the talk while driving.
James tells the story of two visitors to church. One rich, one poor. Those in the church shows favoritism to the one who was rich, offering him the best seat in the house, while sitting the poor guy on the back row. Now, 2000 years later, with microphones, central heat and air, that’s changed as the back row has become the preferred seat in the house. But that’s beside the point.
Notice how both visitors are passive. They don’t say or do anything; instead it’s the actions of the congregation that James addresses. Don’t show favoritism, he scolds.
You know, showing favoritism can destroy a family. If a parent treats one child with contempt, while lavishing favors upon another, that family is headed for trouble. Parents in such cases create fractures within their family and it’s likely both children will grow up and have problems in life. Such fractures may even continue to grow and create disharmony for generations. And the church is a family. If we treat people differently based on how they dress or look, what kind of job they have, how they speak, or the color of their skin, we’re showing favoritism and risk creating fractures within the church.
James begins this section with a rhetorical question: “With your acts of favoritism do you really believe in our Lord Jesus Christ?” He wants his readers to ponder this question. It’s easy to say, “Yes, we believe in Jesus.” But do we act like it? This question sets James up for giving an example. You’d think if there was a place we treated people well, it would be during a worship service, but James knows that Christians are not always doing what they’re supposed to do. We sometimes fall down on the job, favoring one person over another.
Back in the early 70s, when I was in school, the Five Man Electrical Band had a hit titled “Signs”. The song reminded those of my generation not to be so quick to judge others by their looks, but the last stanza hits those of us in church hard. Listen:
Play video: And the sign said, ‘Everyone welcome, come in, kneel down and pray.’ But when they passed around the plate at the end of it all, I didn’t have a penny to pay. So I got me a pen and a paper and I made up my own little sign. I said, ‘Thank you Lord for thinkin’ of me, I’m alive and doin’ fine.
The guy in the song is welcomed into church even though he’s uncomfortable not having anything to put into the plate. But thankfully, he feels accepted by God and that’s what’s important. Our job is to welcome and love people and help them connect to the Lord.
James bases his teaching on Jesus’ golden rule, “Do unto others as you’d have them do unto you.” And Jesus drew upon Moses teachings when he gave this rule.[5] This isn’t a teaching limited to Christianity or even Judaism. Many other religions have it. It’s a well-known principle of ethics, but do we live by it? In James day, I am sure there were still people alive who could remember how Jesus treated everyone with respect and kindness. They recalled how he attended dinners with the affluent and how he also ate with sinners.[6] Jesus demonstrates this rule in his life. And the foundation of this rule actually goes back to creation, where God creates us, male and female, in his image.[7]
If we truly believe that we’re all created in the image of God, and if we are sincere in our desire to follow God’s teachings, we must honor and respect everyone. There can be no exceptions. Even when people do things we don’t like or that which we disagree with, we have to respect them. We may not like what they do but we must remember they’re created in God’s image. Remember, too, Jesus tells us to pray even for our persecutor.[8] Even when people break God’s law, when they are clearly sinners, we still have to respect them, for we know that we too are sinners.[9] God’s been gracious to us and for us to imitate God, we too must show grace. And besides, as Jesus himself makes clear, he came to seek the lost, those in need, those caught in sin, those for whom no one cares.[10]
As Jesus’ ambassadors in the world, we’re to continue his work by reaching out in his name to all people. If we only try to reach or relate to those who look like us, we’ll fail to carry out the Great Commission.[11] Furthermore, if we only reach out to those who are like us, our church will become so homogeneous that we’ll be so boring that none of us will want to be here.
So let’s ask ourselves, are we friendly? Most of us would say, yes. Many of our visitors feel that way, too, but then most of them are like us. Others, who don’t fit in, may feel we’re not friendly. They probably won’t even make it to our front door. How do we reach them? Probably outside the church (and outside our comfort zones) as we not only talk about the gospel but through our lives show them the difference Jesus makes.
James draws on Jesus’ frequent analogy about the last being first, along with Gods’ concern in the Old Testament for the poor and marginalized, when he speaks of God’s choosing the poor to be rich in faith and heirs of the kingdom.[12] God’s economy works differently than ours. As humans, we look to material things to judge or rate importance, God looks at the heart. What’s in here (the heart) is what’s important.
This section ends with James speaking about the law, which reiterates what he’s just said about not showing partiality. We’re to love our neighbors as ourselves but if we show partiality, we’ve broken that command. James makes clear that breaking one commandment is the same as breaking them all. And since we’re all guilty of breaking the law, he encourages us to act like those about to be judged. We’re back to this theme of humility. We need to remember that at the time of judgment, we’re not sitting in the jury box, we’re at the table for the defense. But before reaching that table before the judge, we should take heed James words that there will be no mercy for those who do not show mercy. James’ comment is a lot like that phrase Jesus slipped into the prayer he taught: forgive our sins as we forgive others.”[13] If we want to be godlike, we have to show mercy. If we want to experience mercy, we must be merciful. And in the end, our hope is in James last phrase, for mercy triumphs over judgment.
Be gentle, be gracious, show mercy, and accept everyone. Do these things. That’s what James is saying. Amen.
©2017
[1] Quote found on 3 June 2017 at http://heavy.com/sports/2017/06/lebron-james-house-home-what-word-how-much-money-cost-pictures-la-n-word-vandalized-graffiti/
[2] Romans 2:11 and Galatians 3:28.
[3] Dough Marlette, Kudzu, July 24, 2007. (Marlette died a month earlier in a car accident during a rain storm in Mississippi. His strip continued to run for a couple of months with panels already completed.
[4] Ecclesiastes 3:1-8.
[5] Matthew 22:39, Mark 12:31, Luke 10:17 and Leviticus 19:18.
[6] Matthew 9:10-13, Mark 2:13-17, Luke 14:1, etc.
[7] Genesis 1:27 and Matthew 5:48. James draws upon the imitatio Dio. Dan G. McCartney, James” Baler Exegetical Commentary on the New Testament. (Grand Rapids: Baker, 2009)136.
[8] Matthew 5:44.
[9] Romans 3:23.
[10] Matthew 9:13, Luke 19:10, etc.
[11] Matthew 28:18-20.
[12] Exodus 22:22; Deuteronomy 10:18, 24:1; etc. Matthew 19:30, 20:16; Mark 9:35, 10:31; Luke 11;26, 13:30; ect.,
[13] Matthew 5:12.
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
James 1:16-27
May 28, 2017
We’re looking at the second half of the first chapter of the Letter of James this morning. Last week, in the first half of this chapter, we heard how James called for his readers to endure their trials with joy and to seek wisdom from God. In the second half, James encourages us to put our words into actions. It’s not enough to just believe, we must do. Our faith must result in actions. There needs to be a change in our lives. We’re no longer living for ourselves, we’re living for Jesus.
Let me give you a heads up about James style of writing. Pretty much everything he discusses in the first chapter is expanded upon in later chapters. Last week, we saw where he talked about the poor and the rich (which he’ll again mention this week) along with God’s wisdom. He’ll spend much of the second chapter dealing with how we treat the poor and parts of the third and fourth chapters encouraging his reader to choose God’s wisdom over human wisdom. Likewise, today he’ll bring up the need to control our tongue. He’ll come back to that topic in the third chapter. For those of you who need to hear things more than once in order for it to stick, James obliges.
Today, in our passage, we’re encouraged to be a doer, not just a hearer. Another title might be, “Living a seven day a week life of faith.” Faith isn’t just a Sunday morning exercise. We live our faith out in the world.
This is the season that many are preparing to take a vacation. I hope you’re going somewhere fun. But we must never take a vacation from the implications of our faith, just as God, who is faithful, never takes a vacation. Let’s look at the text. Take out your Bibles or, for those of you who are really sophisticated, take out your smart phone and open your Bible app and follow along as I read James 1:16-27.
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Once upon a time, there was a land inhabited only by ducks. Every Sunday morning, the ducks got up, washed their faces, put on their Sunday best, and waddled off to church. They waddled through the door of their duck church, proceeded to waddle down the aisle, and to their familiar places in the pews. The duck minister entered the pulpit and opened the duck Bible to the place where it talked about God’s greatest gift to ducks—wings. “With wings we can fly. With wings we can soar like eagles. With wings we can escape the confines of pens and cages. With wings we can become free. With wings we can become all God meant us to be. So give thanks to God for your wings, and fly!” All the ducks quacked loudly, “Amen.” And then all the ducks waddled back home.
The parable of the ducks was written by the Danish Christian philosopher Soren Kierkegaard, who addressed his nation, whom he felt was filled with Christian people who didn’t act very Christ-like.[1] It could have been written by James! “Be doers of the word, and not merely hearers,” he writes. Live out your faith, every day. And James shows us how to do that.
Our passage starts with a reminder that every generous act comes from God. God, as John Calvin was fond of saying, is the fountain of all goodness. To slightly paraphrase Calvin, from his 1559 Institutes of the Christian Religion:
For until we recognize that we owe everything to God, that we are nourished by his fatherly care, that he is the Author of our every good, that we should seek nothing beyond him—we will never yield him willing service.[2]
God, who gave us life also gives us birth by the word of the truth, James writes. And God wants to show us off as “the crown of his creation”,[3] or as the first-fruits of his creation. By the way, although James and Paul are often contrasted with one another, here is another place where they are saying the same thing. Paul also speaks of us (along with Christ) as being the first fruits of the new creation.[4]
The whole purpose behind James pointing out that all good comes from the Father, which expands to us being the first-fruit of his creatures, is to keep us from being proud. Can we really brag about being first, if all that is good about us comes from God? Shouldn’t that temper our pride and help us to remain humble and grateful? Remember, as the scriptures tell us, pride goes before the fall.[5]
In verse 19 (do you have your Bibles open?), James gives us practical applications of such humility. Be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to anger. Or, as is often pointed out, there is a reason we have two ears and one mouth! Think about it.
James advice isn’t heeded much in these days of wars of words on social media… Someone hears something they disagree with and instead of first trying to understand, responds with a tweet or post of venom that poisons the discourse. As Christians, as followers of the one who is the Truth,[6] we need to be setting an example! Being right in an argument isn’t nearly as important as showing love and grace, patience and understanding. If we act like the rest of the world, then we fail to show the values of the eternal kingdom to which we belong. Remember, we’re to strive to be godly and one of God’s traits in which we’re reminded of throughout the Old Testament is that he’s “slow to anger.”[7]
James tells us in verse 21, to rid ourselves of sordidness and rank growth of wickedness, or as another translation has it, “spoiled virtue and cancerous evil.”[8] The word for “ridding ourselves” is a Greek word often used by athletics as they shed their robes in order to be more competitive in a contest.[9] In this same way, we’re to shed that which holds us back, that which fails to build up the kingdom. We’re in a contest between good and evil. In God’s realm, it is not the powerful argument that wins the day, but the meek word which, as James says, has the power to save our souls.
This leads James into his next section where he encourages us to be doers not merely hearers. He’s already encouraged us to listen, so hearing is important, but if we just hear, what good is that? Yes, hearing and believing is important, but we can’t stop there. As Jesus tells us, we must bear fruit.[10] We’re not to look at a mirror in order to evaluate ourselves, but are to look at God’s law. When we compare ourselves to what God expects of us, we should be humble. We should be brought to our knees in confession and then work to change our lives so that it better reflects our Lord’s life. We hear God’s word and then we apply it, striving to live humble, gracious and merciful lives, just as our Lord himself was humble, gracious and merciful.
James then returns back to the tongue, our mouths, and suggests that they need to be bridled, they need to be controlled. Listen and be slow to speak, as he has already told us. Then James draws back upon the teachings of Moses and the prophets to emphasize the true meaning of religion—it is to care for orphans and widows “while guarding ourselves from the corruption of the world.”[11] Or, as the well-known passage from Micah goes, “What does the Lord require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God?”[12]
Now, the ball’s in your court. Will you waddle out of here and on through life like Kierkegaard’s ducks? Or will you take to heart what God has done for us in Jesus Christ and live your life accordingly? Will you honor all others, especially those who are below you in life? You can start with the waiter or waitress at lunch today? Or with the guys and gals that keep our community looking nice by mowing or clipping and picking up our trash. Be grateful and thankful for them, bestowing as much honor on them as anyone else.
Will you pause before blowing up in anger when something doesn’t go as you’d like? Take enough time to consider if your actions are honoring God. We’re to be a light to the world.[13] Will you think before you speak, asking yourself if your words bring glory to God the Father? Or, will you continue to use language in a way to destroy or make someone else look bad? As followers of Jesus, we’re to set the example!
Will you give God credit for all your blessings, humbling yourself and realizing that you’re not the reason for your blessing? Will you acknowledge that although you might have worked hard, there was a lot of divine providence that help you succeed? Will you realize that your blessings have been given to you in order to build up others?
In other words, will you be a doer, and not just a mere hearer of the Word? Amen.
©2017
[1] This story was told by Stan Mast, in his notes on James 1:17-27. See http://cep.calvinseminary.edu/sermon-starters/proper-17b/?type=lectionary_epistle
[2] John Calvin, Institutes of the Christian Religion (1559, Battles translation), 1.2.1. I changed the passage from third person to first person.
[3] From The Message translation of James 1:18
[4] See Romans 8:23 and 2 Thessalonians 2:13. See also 1 Corinthians 15:20-23 where Paul speaks of Christ as first fruit and we follow close being. In Revelation 14:4, the faithful are also called the first fruit.
[5] Proverbs 16:18.
[6] John 14:6.
[7] Exodus 34:6, Numbers 14:!8, Nehemiah 9:17, Psalms 85:15, 103:8 and 148:8, Joel 2:13, Jonah 4:2 and Nahum 1:3.
[8] James 1:21, The Message.
[9] Dan G. McCarthney, James: Baker Exegetical Commentary on the New Testament (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker, 2009), 116.
[10] Matthew 7:17-20.
[11] James 1:27, The Message. See also Exodus 22:22, Deuteronomy 14:28-29, Jeremiah 7:9 as examples of Moses and prophets calling for the care of orphans and widows.
[12] Micah 6:8.
[13] Matthew 5:14.
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
James 1:1-15
May 21, 2017
During Lent we worked through Galatians. This week, we’ll begin a journey through the Book of James. These two works are often contrasted with each other. Galatians focuses on salvation by faith, while James reads more like a list of what to do and not to do. The author is James which was a common name during New Testament times. In this letter, he’s only identified here as a servant of God and of the Lord Jesus Christ.
Unlike many of our New Testament letters, it doesn’t appear James was writing to a particular congregation, or even group of congregations. Instead, he addresses this to the twelve dispersed tribes. We know, from the Old Testament, of the 12 tribes representing the sons and daughters of Jacob. But the twelve tribes were longer in existence by New Testament times. The destruction of the northern Kingdom of Israel led to the dispersion of the ten northern tribes, and the last two tribes of the southern kingdom were dispersed by Babylon nearly six centuries earlier. The tribes were less identifiable and Jews, were living all over the known world by the time James came along. There is debate as to if James is addressing this letter to just Jewish Christians or to all Christians living in the known world.
In Galatians, Paul was concerned with how we experience salvation, which is through Christ. James is more interested in how the believer, the person of faith, lives out his or her life. We can experience joy in life even in times or peril if we have a purpose. Today, we’re going to look at the first fifteen verses of James. Read James 1:1-15…
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Two weeks ago when Presbyterian Women had their luncheon to close out their program year, Dr. Robert Pawlicki spoke. Even if you weren’t there, you may recognize him from his column in the Twatl, which focuses on happiness. He began his talk about how wonderful of a place in which we live. We don’t have to deal with snow, we don’t have to worry much about crime, and things are green all year. Most everyone nodded in agreement. Then he suggested that as nice as our island is, it’s not the reason we have happiness. There’s plenty of unhappy people. He went on to point out how survey after survey have found the happiness people in the world often live where the environment can be brutal. Yet, they’re happy.
In his book, Dr. Pawlicki provides a number of examples of happy people. One is the late Nelson Mandela. I am not sure I’d be happy if I had been imprisoned unjustly for much of my life, but Mandela was able to maintain perspective. He had a purpose in his life, to help create a better country for his people, and that allowed him to be happy.
Another example was Michael J. Fox. After coming down with Parkinson at a relatively young age, Fox admitted that when he was rich and famous and healthy, he was quite unhappy. He was addicted and lonely. His diagnose of Parkinson’s redirected his life and gave him a gift that actually lifted him up out of depression. Despite his illness, the last years of his life were his happiest years.[1]
Nelson Mandela and Michael J. Fox are modern examples of what James refers to this letter. Their lives demonstrate joy despite trials. James, and the Bible in general, remind us that life is difficult, but it’s in embracing and enduring the difficulty that allows us to grow in our faith. Archibald Rutledge, a former poet laureate of South Carolina wrote, “Life everywhere is made up of roses and razorbacks, arsenic and azaleas…” “[L]ife is enliven by its uncertainty, it is made dearer by its insecurity and its brevity.”[2] When we meet obstacles head on, trusting that God is with us, God can do some incredible things through us! Furthermore, if life held no challenges, it wouldn’t be very memorable.
I don’t know how many river trips I’ve made in canoes and kayaks. Yet, the ones I most remember best are those with challenges; the trips with inclement weather, with hordes of mosquitoes, with leaving an important piece of equipment at home, or some other obstacles.
Ten years ago, a few friends and I decided to paddle the Fox River in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. It’s a prime brook trout river, one that Ernest Hemingway fished after he came back from the First World War. Hemingway drew on these experiences to write his Nick Adams stories. I had a guidebook that said we should be able to paddle this section in four hours. We trusted the book and started early in the morning, thinking we’d take several more hours to fish. We caught our limit. But as the afternoon turned into evening, we realized that we hadn’t passed the first of two large streams that flowed into the river. This was no four hour paddle.
Part of the problem was that the river had not been cleared of snags in years and we spent as much time pulling over logs as we did paddling. As the sun dropped in the west, the deer flies came out, making life miserable. Having thought we’d easily be off the river mid-afternoon, we didn’t have a lot of extra food with us. We paddled like crazy as the sun set. In the Northwood in the middle of the summer, it is light till around 10:30 PM, but it was 11 PM before we got off the river. We were exhausted and tired and by then didn’t want to cook dinner (we saved the trout till the next day). Exhausted, the four of us went to the only place open, the Seney Bar. Their cook had left at 9:30, but the bartender took pity on us and fixed us some frozen pizzas (those 99 cent cardboard varieties, which he charged us $5 apiece). As tasteless as those pizzas were, we appreciated and devoured them. On that trip, we learned some things; we became better paddlers, but we also created memories that still bring a smile to our faces.
It can be the same with our faith. We all go through periods of testing, times when we face obstacles and challenges. James tells us that if we stick with it, we build endurance and will mature in a manner that will allow us to face other challenges we’ll have in our lives. And remember, as long as we have breath, we’ll have challenges.
James is often seen for his departure from the message we get from the writings of Paul and Peter. However, in this opening section, James says things similar to what they both say. In Romans, Paul speaks about rejoicing in our suffering because it produces endurance, which produces character, which produces hope. Peter encourages us to rejoice despite grieving from trials, so that through our faithfulness we will bring praise to our Savior.[3]
James bookends our passage with the importance of enduring trials and temptations. This message is clearly identified in verses 2-4 and 12-14. In between these bookends, James speaks of two important truths. First of all, he acknowledges that ability to endure isn’t something that is innate within us. Such abilities are from God and if we are facing challenges that are overwhelming, we need to go to God in faith and ask for the wisdom we need. And we need to trust God to give us what we need, and act accordingly, not just continue on with our doubts.
Secondly, drawing from a message that harkens back to the Psalms and Isaiah, we need to remember that our lives are fleeting.[4] Riches wane just as flowers wither in the heat. We’re in God’s hands and we should trust God alone. Our abilities, wealth, health, strength and looks will wane. We’re to live out our lives in God’s providence.
Our passage closes with a reminder that we are not to blame God for trying to trip us up or tempt us into evil or into failure. Sadly, James doesn’t give us an answer to the age old question on evil (if God is good, why do bad things happen). Instead, he encourages us to keep our faith in a gracious God, to trust in the Lord who can provide us with the faith to endure even when things are not going our way. Keep your eye on Jesus!
Joy in adversity? Yes! Often there is little we can do to change our environment. Much of what happens to us is beyond our control. But we can control how we think about our troubles and how we react to them.[5] Challenges can be opportunities for us to build our faith. James encourages us to endure, to have faith, and to seek God’s wisdom. God is in control, not us, and that should be a great comfort to those of us who place our trust in the Lord. Amen.
©2017
[1] Robert Pawlicki, Ph.D., Fifty Ways to Greater Well Being and Happiness: A Hand and Inspirational Guide (2012), 57-59.
[2] Archibald Ruthledge, God’s Children (1947), Kindle Edition, loc 283.
[3] See Romans 5:3-5, 1 Peter 1:6-7.
[4] Psalm 103:15-16, Isaiah 40:6-7
[5] Dan G. McCartney, James; Baker Exegetical Commentary on the New Testament (Grand Rapids: Baker, 2009), 84.
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
May 7, 2017
John 10:1-18
The pastoral image of a shepherd is a frequent metaphor in Scripture. Herders of animals were common in Palestine, especially in the Old Testament times. Think about it, Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Moses, and David were all shepherds. In time, a shepherd became a figurative term for a ruler of God’s people. The king was to be a shepherd. God shepherded his people, most notably during the Exodus as they followed him through the wilderness.
We don’t see many sheep or shepherds around here. When I was a pastor in Cedar City, Utah, they were visible. You’d especially see them in the spring and fall when they drove the sheep up in the mountains or back down, often clogging roads and creating traffic issues. With several sheepherders in the congregation, I had be careful preaching on these passages as they knew more than I did.
You know, the shepherds coming to the manager is a highlight of a Christmas programs and we become sentimental thinking about it. But we should realize that shepherds had a tough job and were not high in the social hierarchy. The idea that a shepherd like David could become king or that a group of shepherds could witness the incarnation of God into humanity was far-fetched. But our God has a way to take what is rejected build upon it.[1] And Jesus promises that the last shall be first and the slave the greatest of all.[2] It doesn’t bother God, who becomes a man in Jesus Christ, to align himself with a shepherd, an image that we see over and over again in Scripture and especially in the tenth chapter of John’s gospel. READ JOHN 10:1-6, 11-15.
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I know many of you have travelled to Holy Lands, seeing it as a pilgrimage. Some find their faith strengthen by trotting over the same ground upon which Jesus’ walked. If you go, it’s good to have a guide who can bring the Bible alive and make you envision what it was like in Jesus’ day. One such group, who had a fantastic guide, started their journey in Jerusalem. After seeing all the sites, they had dinner, after which the guide took time to prepare everyone for what they’d witness the next day as they left the city and travelled in the Judean hillside. Herding sheep is still an occupation in these areas. He waxed eloquently about the shepherds of Palestine and how they are so good that when they take the sheep into the hills to graze, they just walked along and the sheep follow close behind.
The group had hardly gotten into the countryside when they observed a spectacle that could have been a filming of a Monty Python skit. An overwhelmed shepherd and his dogs tried desperately and without success to keep together a herd of sheep. The beasts ran in every which direction as the dogs barked and snapped at their legs. The shepherd was shouting and, despite the language barriers, the tourist knew it was obscenities. Somethings just transcend language. Pointing to this, one of the group members asked the guide to explain the sheep’s behavior in light of his comments the previous evening. “Oh, that’s simple,” the guide responded, “they’re not going out to graze, they’re headed to the butcher.”
The prophets spoke of evil shepherds (those who drove the sheep to the butcher) and the prophet Ezekiel promised that there would be a day when God would become a shepherd and lead the entire world to good pastures.[3] This set the stage for Jesus who came proclaiming himself as the “good shepherd.” Jesus provides two reasons. First, he is the good shepherd because he will lay down his life for his sheep. Secondly, he’s the good shepherd because he knows his sheep and his sheep know him.
The shepherd’s fate, if he owns the herd, is tied to the sheep. Therefore, he has a vested interest in their welfare. As the owner, he makes sure his animals are well fed, watered, and protected. If the bad wolf is too big or a lion too aggressive, a hired-hand will take off. There is no incentive for him to risk his neck. The good shepherd, however, is loyal to his flock. The hired-hand looks out for his own interest. Jesus, as the good shepherd, is loyal to us and promises never to desert us, a promised sealed on the cross. As Jesus said to the disciples, who were afraid of being left behind, “wherever two or three are gathered in my name, I’ll be there.”[4] We can take comfort in Jesus’ presence during times of trouble.
The second reason Jesus said that he’s the good shepherd is because he knows his sheep and his sheep know him. Jesus links this knowledge between him and his sheep with the knowledge between him and his Father in heaven. This intimate knowledge between Jesus and his followers is for a reason. Jesus desires to bring all of his sheep, all of his followers, together into one flock. By being gathered in Jesus’ flock, we too have connection to God, the Father. After all, as Jesus says a few chapters later in John’s gospel, he is the way to the Father.[5]
There’s rich imagery in this passage. To be a good shepherd, one needs patience, and must commit the time necessary to take care of the sheep. The image of a good shepherd shows the gentleness and patience of God. But a good sheepherder is not meek. When wild animals attack, the shepherd becomes enraged as he fights to protect his sheep… The two sheepherders in the church in Utah, when they were up on the mountain or out on the winter ranger, kept a loaded Winchester 30-30 in their trucks in case something threatened the herd. They protected the sheep.
The image of a good shepherd also shows us the wrathful side of God, the God who gets angry at those who endanger his children. Jesus reminds us of the wrathful side of the Shepherd God when he speaks harshly to those who misled and misguide children (and in these places he’s talking not only about those whose years are few, but also those who are young and vulnerable within the faith journey).[6] The Shepherd is concerned for our being and cursed are those who try to steer us away from the truth.
The 23rd Psalm, where God is related to as a shepherd, is perhaps the most beloved of all the Psalms. I think this is because we like knowing there is someone looking out for us, taking care of us when our lives travel through dark valleys. Sooner or later in our lives, we will all experience times when we are unsure of the future and feel threatened. Danger may seem to be lurking all around, but if we can recall that God is the good shepherd who leads us through the valley of the shadow of death, we can be consoled and have the hope that ultimately can only be found in God’s hands.
I would like to discuss for a minute the notion of the pastor of a church being a shepherd. Some churches take this seriously and give shepherd crooks to pastors and/or bishops. With Jesus being the good shepherd, I find myself a little nervous about being seen as a shepherd and certainly feel inadequate. Let’s face it, it’s hard to live up to Jesus as our role model. Yet, we’re all called to strive to be more godly in our lives, even as we know the only way we will truly be sanctified is through grace. But until our sanctification in the next world, we do our best and depend on God.
Let me expand this a little further. Within the Reformed Tradition, the role of the shepherd doesn’t rest just with the pastor, but with all elders. So I’m not on the hook just by myself. And, just so the rest of you don’t feel left out, there is the other concept of the priesthood of all believers. Look around, we’re all priests. And part of our priestly role is to look out for one another.
Yes, we have a Good Shepherd. His name is Jesus. We follow him. But think about this: Jesus wants us to be his assistant shepherds. We all now have a part to play in the incarnational ministry into which we’re called, the ministry of furthering God’s work on earth. This includes looking out and praying for one another. It’s part of what it means to be a Christian. It’s an assignment we’ll accept if we truly love Jesus. Amen.
©2017
[1] See Matthew 21:14, Mark 10:12, Luke 20:17 and Acts 4:11.
[2] See Matthew 19:30, 20:16, 20:26, 23:11; Mark 9:25, 10:31, 10:43; Luke 13:30, 22:26.
[3] Ideas from Raymond E. Brown, The Anchor Bible: Gospel According to John I-XII, p. 397. Passages from the prophets include Jeremiah 10:21, 23:1-2, and Ezekiel 34.
[4] Matthew 18:20.
[5] John 14:6.
[6] Matthew 18:6, Mark 9:42, and Luke 17:2.
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
Psalm 103
April 30, 2017
Johnny had always wanted to take a ride in a balloon. He’d heard about how quiet they are and thought it was would be a delightful way to explore the countryside. Finally, he had a chance when, at the local fair, a man was offering balloon rides. No one else wanted to go up, so the gondolier told Johnny to climb into the basket. They dropped the weights as he fired up the heater and soon the balloon was rising above the Ferris wheel. It kept going higher and then the wind picked up and it began to quickly move beyond the fair. Soon neither Johnny nor the gondolier knew where they were at. The gondolier takes the basket down to ten feet above ground where Johnny calls to a passer-by: ‘Excuse me, sir, can you tell me where I am?’
After looking Johnny up and down, the passer-by says: ‘You are in a red balloon, ten feet above ground.’
‘You must be a lawyer,’ Johnny mumbled.
‘How could you possible know that?’ asked the passer-by. ‘
Because your answer is technically correct but absolutely useless, and the fact is I am still lost’.
“Then you must be in management’, said the passer-by.
‘That’s right” Johnny said. “How did you know?’
‘You have such a good view from where you are,” the lawyer said, “and yet you don’t know where you are and you don’t know where you are going. The fact is you are in the exact same position you were in before we met, but now your problem is somehow my fault![1]
One of the problems in life is that we often take credit for things when they are going well and then blame someone or something else when they are not. But such an attitude is neither honest nor helpful. A better attitude would be that of the author of the 103rd Psalm, which is attributed to King David. Read Psalm 103.
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One of the delights of having dinner with my friend and a theological mentor, Jack Stewart, is listening to him say grace. At the table, once everyone is seated, he’ll reach out and grab his wife’s hand and whoever is sitting to the other side of him. Then he’ll begin with a strong deep voice, “Bless the Lord, all my soul and all that is within in. Bless his holy name. Bless the Lord, all my soul, and do not forget all his benefits.” As soon as he begins, everyone becomes quiet and listens. The grace he says at meals is always the same, opening with the first two verses of this Psalm. Sometimes he’ll add his own prayers after the opening, but not always. These two verses are sufficient. When he is in a restaurant, it’ll be the same prayer, only not quite as loud as at home. At home, the dishes might rattle as if even they are praising God.
The opening verses of Psalm 103 is a fitting prayer. Like many of our prayers, it may be more for us than for God, for these words remind us of our duty to praise God and to remember what God has done for us. God has cared for us. God has forgiven us. The God who gave us the breath of life, saves us and heals us and offers us a second and third and forty-ninth opportunities to get it right.
Part of what makes this Psalm so rich is that the Psalmist draws from his personal experiences and from the experiences of his people with God. Even though, like all of us, he has succumb to sin, which cut him off from God, he is able to, as one commentator writes, “enjoy the full sunlight of the grace of his God.”[2] Martin Luther called this Psalm the proper master and doctor of Scripture.”[3] He’s right as these words encapsulates much of our theology, which when done right focuses only on the praise of God.
Notice how the Psalm builds. In the opening verse, the Psalmist speaks to himself as he calls for his need to bless or praise the Lord. But then in verse seven, he calls on all Israel to join him. Adding to the Hebrew voices are all mortals, as he calls on them to join his song in verse 15. By verse twenty, he’s calling on the angels in the court of heaven and then when comes to the end, he’s calling on all creation—from earth to the stars. Think about listening to a piece of music that begins with a single instrument, then the conductor calls in more from this section of the symphony, then brings in instruments from over here, and over there. Each time new instruments are added, the sound rises until finally when all have come in, the music reaches a crescendo. That’s what’s happening in this Psalm. But why?
The Psalmist tells us, why we should praise the Lord. God has given us abundant matter for praising him,” John Calvin wrote about this Psalm. If we could only remember them, “we would be sufficiently inclined to perform our duty.”[4]
In verses 3 through 6, using a series of verbs, the Psalmists points out what God has done: forgives, heals, redeems, crowns, satisfies, renews, and works. There are two great themes of God’s work highlighted in this Psalm: one is forgiveness and the other is the combined traits of the Almighty: love and compassion.[5]
From the vantage point of the present, looking back, the Psalmist has seen where God intervened on his behalf. He knows the stories of how God has guided and protected Israel, going back to Moses and leading the people out of Egypt. He quotes from Exodus the line that God is merciful and gracious, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love and faithfulness.[6] God isn’t a Santa Claus, checking if we’ve been naughty or nice. He understands that God is enthroned in the heavens, with an overview of all the world, while at the same time can be intimately connected in our lives. God is compassionate, like a father. And as Creator, God knows our beginning. Our lives, when measured against history, are short, but God’s love is everlasting.
Yes, we should praise God for all that God has done for us. The Psalmist, in bringing in all the voices that have experienced God’s providence, calls on you and me to join in this song of praise. Bless the Lord, O my soul. Be thankful and grateful so that all might know that God is good.
The message of this Psalm is one that we need to take to heart. Too often, these days, people are looking askew at the Christian faith. They see the church as judgmental, even hateful.[7] We have to change that perspective! Yesterday’s Shredding Event is one example of trying to set a new course. We need to reflect a faith grounded in this Psalm instead of one that just condemns all that we see wrong in the world. As one who has given up on church said: “The church should be a place where people are loved collectively rather than judged individually.”[8] Certainly, there are a lot of things wrong with the world, but love (not condemnation) is what will redeem it.
God loves the world, John 3:16 tells us, so that he sent his only Son. As followers of Jesus, we are to strive to live Christ-like lives. This Psalm shows us what God is about. This Psalm reminds us of God’s loving care. We should also strive to live in such a manner. Let us also love the world and then, maybe, as we call on it to join us in giving thanks to God, it just might. But regardless, as we worship and praise God, we are bringing God glory and that’s our calling. Amen.
©2017
[1] Adapted from http://fuertenews.com/fun-stuff/jokes-mainmenu-135/2929-may-day-traditions-and-jokes.
[2]Artur Weiser, The Psalms, translated by Herbert Hartwell, (Philadelphia: Westminster, 1962), 657.
[3][3] James L. Mays, Psalms: Interpretation: A Bible Commentary for Teaching and Preaching (Louisville: John Knox Press,1994), 405.
[4] John Calvin, Commentary on the Psalms, viewed at https://www.studylight.org/commentaries/cal/psalms-103.html
[5] Stan Mast, “Notes on Psalm 103:1-8 for Proper 16C (August 15, 2016) for the Center of Excellence in Preaching at Calvin College. See http://cep.calvinseminary.edu/sermon-starters/proper-16c/?type=the_lectionary_psalms
[6] Exodus 34:6
[7] There are a lot of books and articles that are making this case. See Dan Kimball, They Like Jesus But Not the Church: insights from emerging generations (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2007).
[8] Josh Packard, Ph.D and Ashleigh Hope, Church Refugees: Sociologists reveal why people are DONE with church but not their faith. (Loveland, CO: Group Publishing, 2015), 32.
This past week Bunny Ludtke gave me a copy of a sermon that Fenton had given in 1962 at his church in Michigan. Fenton had been cleaning out papers for the upcoming shredding and had happened upon this sermon. He had been asked by the Rev. McKay Taylor to preach. Reading his sermon, I was impressed with how Fenton encouraged the congregation to embrace change. The church had already done this with its modern architecture. He even encouraged the use of Jazz Music.
After serving in the military during World War II, Fenton was a reporter then the city editor for the Pontac Daily News. He later worked for the Associated Press office in Detroit before taking a job with Campbell Ewald, an advertising agency in Detroit. In the small world of the church, I was shocked to discover when I moved here that Fenton had worked with Kensinger Jones, who was a member of my previous church in Michigan. Sadly, Ken Jones had died a few weeks before I made the connection. Fenton worked for others agencies and retired in 1989 from Chrysler. I hope you enjoy his sermon. -jeff
Fenton and Bunny Ludtke
THE CARE AND FEEDING OF CHRISTIANITY
A sermon by Fenton A. Ludtke
Northminster Presbyterian Church
Birmingham, Michigan
May 20, 1962
Scripture: John 21:14-19
Matthew 28:16-20
We are, as you know, this morning within the period of the 40 days after the Resurrection during which Jesus appeared to His disciples.
The passage from John you have just heard was an account of His third appearance.
As you recall, it was preceded by the story of the disciples going fishing. After they had failed to catch any fish, Jesus appeared on the shore and bid them to cast their nets on the right side of their boat. The result was a catch of some 153 fish, and new evidence of the power and presence of their Lord.
This event as related in the New Testament had especial meaning for the disciples when it happened. For, as you can imagine, they were completely disorganized.
Jesus had been crucified. Their leader was gone. How could they poor men be expected to rise to the void left by His death?
Where could they begin? Would people listen? How to make the start?
Well, hadn’t He told them?
Yes. He had told them to keep His Commandments. He had told them to teach His word.
Oh yes.
But you can almost imagine the disciples, saying, “Sure He told us what to do, but we never really thought we’d ever have to do it.”
As John related in the Scriptures, Jesus asked of Peter, “If you love me, then feed my sheep.”
What did He mean?
And what does this story of Jesus’ third appearance mean to us?
I would like to suggest some answers. And maybe these answers can be found in investigating whether we have been creative enough in our thinking about, and our love of, God.
Creative?
As undoubtedly you have observed, the word “creative,” or “creativity,” is enjoying new imminence today. We have creative advertising, creative salesmen, creative child care, creative research. Of course, we have had advertising, and salesmen, and child care, and research for many years, but, suddenly, with the flick of a word, they are “creative.” Sounds good, doesn’t it?
To be creative, though, is not to be isolated within a group of people especially able to express themselves with brush or lens . . . or words . . . or hammer hitting harp strings. To me there is more to this word. It asks of anyone embracing it in act or deed, that they change. That they do something, say something, believe something, in a new and more meaningful way.
Of course, all of us are changing . . . almost every day. We are either growing up . . . or, as we say, our bones are settling. But this kind of change is what you might call “developmental.” It is change that is expected. Inevitable.
There is, however, a different kind of change.
It is the kind of change that is the most difficult to make for it asks of you to be willing to make the effort to accept a new equation, a departure from terms or procedures you have been accustomed to It is not inevitable change.
Well now, if all of us accept the idea that change can be good for us, how can we do it in our relationship with God?
In other words, is there such a thing as creative Christianity?
Well, there would seem to be two categories of creative Christianity. One would be physical .and the other, spiritual.
We can look at evidence of physical change in our churches today. Look at the stone and steel and glass combined in what may be called the “contemporary look” of many of them.
Our own church, when it is completed, may well be one of the most significant contributions to church architecture in our nation, or for that matter, the world.
Perhaps such a glowing testimonial to the design of our church sounds a bit provincial, or something a Sinclair Lewis type of town booster would say. I think not.
Northminster Presbyterian Church
For such a prediction of our church’s architectural merit is based on the fact that its architect… Minuro Yamasaki . . . is now one of America’s most highly respected architectural craftsmen. Already his fame is spreading around tile world. Perhaps you read that the Science building he designed for Seattle is considered, by a goodly number, to be the most gifted contemporary work in that city’s current world’s fair.
But, someone might say… “these so-called contemporary churches aren’t my idea of a physical church. They are cold. Give me the old Gothic with its spires reaching like fingers to the sky. that’s what a church ought to be like.”
While it is well that we respect such an attitude, it is interesting to reflect upon the history of Gothic design in the building of churches. Gothic architecture developed in Europe in the Middle Ages and was quickly identified as the “flamboyant style.”
It was the contemporary of its day. As the World Book reports:
“Places of worship are associated with old architectural styles in the minds of many people. Yet the people who built the great Romanesque and Gothic churches were the modern builders of their day. It is often claimed that the vitality of their work lies in the close relationship between the building and the era that produced it. If this is true, the buildings of any religious body today should be as modern for their time as were the medieval buildings.”
It is interesting to note, too, that the physical change represented by the growth and acceptance of Gothic resulted, at least in part, because it represented a change in the spiritual feelings within the church.
In feudal times, religion had been mainly in the hands of the monks. During the Gothic period, however, religion became a thing of the people, and the lofty arches and towers best expressed how they felt.
Now another example of this physical change in churches today can be found in music.
We know, of course, that Christian hymns owe their beginnings to the old religious songs of the Hebrews. Many of the earliest hymns were written in Greek and Latin, but with the coming of the Protestant Reformation, the language changed from Latin, to the language of the people and the most famous hymn of this period we sang this morning.
It is Martin Luther’s “A Mighty Fortress Is Our God.” This powerful and stirring hymn became known as “The Battle Hymn of the Reformation.”
Now, a rather cursory investigation of the hymnal we use in Northminster seems to indicate, at least to me, that there are not as many people worshipping God in music and lyric today. Many of our hymns date back hundreds of years. Not too many are what you would call the work of contemporary man.
Very possibly, this is an area in which the creative Christian could investigate the suitability of physical change. For if the contemporary design of our church buildings reflects modern man and his love of God, would it be improper for the music he sings or listens to within his church also to reflect modern man and his love of God?
Wilson Wade, professor of religion at Dartmouth College, believes chance should be considered. In fact, his ideas may be too contemporary for many people.
He would introduce Jazz into churches.
Now, rest assured, Professor Wade is not talking about Elvis Presley’s “You’re Nothing But a Hound Dog,” and he most certainly does not commend to your ear something for twisting by Chubby Checkers.
He is talking about concert hall jazz. The kind that in its truest form has been called the only art form America has contributed to the world.
As he stated in “Christian Century”:
“If jazz offers any understanding of the conditions that inform the contemporary image of man, it is in an understanding we can experience only through becoming involved with the world of jazz — the world of 20th century man. The world of Palestrina or Bach or Brahms still maintains a reality — the reality, namely of our heritage. But it is the reality of this present era that cries out for our understanding and participation.”
Professor Wade continues:
“Jazz echoes the sorrows, the blues, the frustrations of modern man, but it also rejoices in the exhilarations of split-level living. And always, through the harshness and chaos of jazz, there is a continual swinging. If jazz doesn’t swing, we say it just isn’t jazz. As the Jesuit Father Kennard, instructor in philosophy at Loyola University in Los Angeles, says, ‘to swing is to affirm.'”
When I read this story, you might be interested to know that I wrote Professor Wade and asked him what particular jazz he was thinking of. He wrote back, Dave Brubeck, the contemporary jazz pianist.
Jazz in our churches? Will it ever happen?
Well, of course, it has. Very recently it happened in a church in West Germany. As I recall it resulted in standing room only. And it has happened in other churches in our country, granted very few.
But if you are saying to yourself, “Well, I certainly would never want such music played in my church,” then perhaps you will find interest in the observations of Elwyn Wienandt in Christian Century last March. His article appeared several months after Professor Wade’s, and, in part, stated:
“If the idea of intruding a contemporary and popular musical style into Christian worship were truly new and without precedent there might be cause for alarm, but the fact is that the practice is strongly founded on historical patterns,”
Mr. Wienandt goes on to tell us that the earliest great assault upon sacred music came in the 13th century with the development of a musical form called the motet, a polyphonic piece usually performed at vespers in the Roman Catholic service . . . and he adds that throughout the centuries of sacred music, man has taken popular secular music and moulded it to the use of the church.
So, after all, maybe Professor Wade shouldn’t be considered too controversial.
I think the important point here is, that in the cases of Gothic versus Contemporary design, and most of our church music versus contemporary music, the older forms were the tradition-breakers of centuries ago. You may prefer Gothic dud hymns penned in the 19th century, but remember; a’ time they represented, change.
Should not the voice of today be heard?
Well, we have been considering one of two forms of creative Christianity. It is, as we termed it, physical change in the church. The second form, as we mentioned earlier, might be called spiritual change.
What do we mean by spiritual change?
Does this mean re-writing the Bible to suit modern man’s good or evil purposes? Most certainly not.
Does this mean some kind of down-grading of God in our personal lives? Definitely not.
On the contrary, it would ask of us a re-reading of the Bible . . . and it would ask of us an up-grading of God in our personal lives.
Spiritual change, you see, is something that must come over you, not something you overlook by self-satisfaction in your relationship with your fellow man and God.
Spiritual change asks that if you are to become a creative Christian you must create something within you that did not exist in the same form before.
In simple truth, spiritual change asks that you, not your physical church, change.
Of course, spiritual change asks self-examination, too. It asks that you examine what you do, how you do it, even why you do it, with the basis of evaluation your relationship with God.
What questions can you ask yourself in this self-examination?
Here are some suggestions.
Are you self-conscious about loving God?
If you are married, may I submit that undoubtedly one of the most moving moments in your life, came when you gave and received in return what I believe are the greatest three words ever put together in a phrase:
“I love you.”
Can you remember when you first said these words? Were you afraid to say them, for fear the person you loved would say something like, “Well, thank you, I’m awfully fond of you, too.”
Sure you remember. And chances are that you can remember the day, the hour, where you were (though the world may have been spinning crazily)… maybe you even remember that you were wearing a floppy, wide-brimmed straw hat that kept falling off, or you had on your new searsucker jacket, and you discovered a hole in the pocket…
You can remember that once you had pledged your love once you had said the three words, you suddenly knew the beauty of loving someone more than yourself.
How could you forget?
But . . . have you ever really told God you love him?
Or are you too self-conscious? Or have you never thought of doing it?
Another question you can ask yourself is, do you bring your real self to church on Sunday?
Or do you put on a kind of “Sunday Best” behavior, only to upon leaving church and arriving home, take it off and hang it at the far end of your closet until same time, same station next Sunday morning?
Is it important to be seen in church, or to see in church?
Be hard on yourself when you ask this for if we do not bring our real selves into church, is there hope that we shall take the real message out of church?
I don’t know what kind of grade you’ll give yourself on this self-examination. Only you and God will know. I know I won’t tell my score.
But once you have taken this test, what can you do about the results?
If you will permit me, I should like to suggest some instructions for your care and feeding of Christianity . . . for, you see, to me that is what Jesus was doing in this third appearance to his disciples after the Resurrection.
“Peter, do you love me?” is like Jesus asking the very same question of you.
“Yea, you know I love you, Lord,” is like you answering Him,
“Then feed my sheep,” is like the Lord telling you do “Follow Him”… to be what you profess to be, to be a true Christian…
You could almost paraphrase President Kennedy’s stirring call to our nation upon the occasion of his inauguration:
“Ask not what God can do for you, but what you can do for God.
But where to begin? And when? And how?
You can begin here. You can begin in the next few minutes. And here are the instructions .
You can begin by being honest with yourself… you are neither as good as you think… or as bad as you fear. Take not the counsel of fear… and fear not the counsel of your heart.
You can begin by smiling at a stranger in church, by reaching out your hand to touch his by reaching out your heart to move his.
You can begin by saying hello to a stranger… don’t back away or try to avoid his glance…. by making others comfortable, you shall know comfort…
You can begin by resolving to cleanse yourself of prejudice it is a vial of acid that devours the fabric of fellowship in God. Be understanding of people and things and ideas other than your own.
You can begin by being compassionate, a word so seldom used, so seldom applied in our lives, be forgiving of those you believe to have hurt you, or merely ignored you.
You can begin by being self-sacrificing. If this one is hard. At least it is for me. But, would you miss one second for a smile… one minute for a kindness… one hour with your Bible? “Peter, if you love me, feed my sheep . Do you really love God? Then care and feed your Christianity.
Closing Prayer
Our Father .
So often it seems we come to you asking your help. We ask with trembling phrases that often begin with such words as, “Lord, if you will only help us this time, we’ll never, never.
Indeed, we are truly your children . . . for so often we seem only to ask things of you… so seldom do we give in return.•
Now, at this moment, would you listen to each of us as we tell you . . . in our own words of how we feel about you?
(long pause)
Dear Father… may we make ourselves more worthy of your love… and may we ever be aware of what we are saying when we pray, as we have been taught, by saying, “Our Father Who Art in Heaven…
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
Ezekiel 2:1-7
April 23, 2017
John Knox, the reformer of the Church of Scotland which gave rise to the Presbyterian Church, was drawn to the book of Ezekiel as a model for his ministry. He used an image from the prophet for his first book title, The First Blast of the Trumpet.[1] Like Ezekiel, Knox had been given a message and knew he must deliver it regardless of the danger the message brought upon himself. Today, in our sermon, on this Scottish Heritage Sunday, we’re going to look at Ezekiel’s call as a prophet and compare it to Knox’s call as a Reformer.
Before we delve into the text, let me tell you a bit about Ezekiel. He was a young Hebrew priest exiled to Babylonian in 597 BC, that’s ten years before Jerusalem fell. The Babylonians had threatened Jerusalem in 597, but had not destroyed the city as they did in 587 BC. Instead, they allowed the city to continue as long as the king promised to be loyal to Babylon. The king in Jerusalem became a puppet.
As a way to assure that this would be a good working relationship, the Babylonians took with them some young Hebrew men, which included Ezekiel and Daniel, back to Babylon to be schooled in the ways of the empire. While there in Babylon, Ezekiel is called to be a prophet. At home, back in Jerusalem, Zedekiah, the king, decided he didn’t like this arrangement with Babylon and aligns himself with the Egyptians, enemies of Babylon. This angers Babylon and in 587 BC, they return to Jerusalem and after a horrible siege, take the city and destroy it, sending even more of the Hebrew people into exile.
Th
e book ofEzekiel begins with a vision of a divine chariot. Seeing it, Ezekiel falls to his face and hears someone speaking to him. In Chapter 2, we hear Ezekiel’s call. Read Ezekiel 2:1-7
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In the late 1550s, John Knox was settling in to a comfortable life in Geneva. He was the pastor of an English-speaking congregation, which consisted mostly of religious exiles the British Isles. He’d made a dangerous trip back to Scotland, from which he had been banished from the previous decade. Love has a way to lead us to take such risks, as we went back to marry Marjorie Bowes. While in Scotland, he couldn’t help but do some preaching and meeting with Scottish leaders, many of whom were ready for a change of the church. This was a time of great uncertainty and Knox knew that if he wasn’t careful, he could end up being roasted while tied to a stake. But once back in Geneva, with his wife who soon became pregnant, things were looking up. He was enjoying pastoring the church and studying under John Calvin, who was at his prime. BUT THEN he received a letter.
The letter had been brought to Geneva by a Scottish merchant and had been signed by a number of Scottish nobles. They encouraged Knox to come back to Scotland. They were not able to promise him safety or a comfortable life, but they did promise a willingness to jeopardize it all—their lives, their estates, and their titles—for God’s glory. Knox was troubled. He shared this calling with his congregation, as well as with John Calvin and other pastors in Geneva. Everyone agreed. Knox had no choice. He was being called back to Scotland and if he refused, he would be rebelling against God.[2] So much for safety and raising his son by Lake Geneva.
When we are called by God, we’re called out of our comfort zones. We’re called to take risks. God’s call changes us. No one who answers it will ever be the same.
Ezekiel was hanging out with other exiles by the river Chebar, in Babylon, when he sees this incredible vision of the heavens opening. Out of the north comes a storm with weird creatures and a chariot. It was kind of psychedelic; read the first chapter of Ezekiel to get the idea of what he experienced. Overwhelmed, he falls on his face, which is a proper response if you ever find yourself face to face with the Almighty. Bow down, duck, hide! Don’t hesitate, or you may be french-fried!
With his face in the ground, Ezekiel hears the command, “Mortal, stand up.” Many versions use the more literal translation, “Son of man.” Either way, Ezekiel is identified for who he is: a man, a mere creature, one with limited powers. He’s just like you and me. God never goes out and finds the strongest man to do his bidding. Ezekiel is weak; he can’t get up even though he is being commanded to do so. It’s only when God’s spirit enters him that he’s lifted up, placed on his feet, and is able to hear his calling.
Ezekiel is called to speak to his people. He’s called to address those who have rebelled against God. Ezekiel doesn’t even have the pleasure Jonah did, of going and pronouncing doom on Israel’s enemies. His message, like Knox, is to his kinfolk, his family, and his neighbors. He won’t be very popular. He may even be considered a traitor. But that is the calling God has for him. That is what God needs him to do. Notice, too, unlike Jonah who feared that Nineveh would hear his message and repent, there is nothing suggesting this is going to happen to Ezekiel. The prophet is essentially told that he may not be listened to. The way God will evaluate Ezekiel’s faithfulness isn’t by how many converts he gains or how big of a following he has. Ultimately, what is important isn’t how much of a change Ezekiel’s words make in people’s lives, but how faithfully he proclaims them. Ezekiel is warned that he may not be liked (after all, these are people who are in rebellion against God), but regardless, he’s to give the message. It’s not his message, its God’s.
Although Ezekiel is given a tough assignment, God is going protect Ezekiel in order to make sure that the message gets through. With Jeremiah, who was a prophet back in Jerusalem while Ezekiel was working in Babylon, God’s protection may appear dubious (after all, Jeremiah was thrown in a well[3]). In Ezekiel’s call, his hearers will be mad, but the prophet is going to be protected. One scholar points out that a better translation of this passage isn’t to see briars and thorns and scorpions as a part of the angry crowd. Instead, they protect Ezekiel. The Prophet will be like “Brer Rabbit,” happily running through thorns to escape those who would harm him.[4] Or maybe he’d be like Paul, five centuries later, who survived his persecutors in Damascus by being let out of a window and lowered outside the walls in a basket.[5] Or consider Stephen, the guy Paul watched being stoned.[6] God never promises us an easy time! After all, Jesus’ call is to take up our cross and follow.[7] Although those who hear Ezekiel may not like what he has to say, God will see to it that they get the message so that they will know that a prophet has been among them.
As one commentator on this passage points out, one of the common characteristics of a call in the Old Testament is some impediment of the one called.[8] Moses stuttered, Gideon was considered a weakling, and Isaiah had unclean lips.[9] But in all cases, God is the one who makes the difference. Here, with Ezekiel, we see that this prophet-to-be can’t even stand up. But as the quote that’s attributed to Knox goes, “a man with God is always in the majority.” Ezekiel’s task is to take a message to a less than enthusiastic crowd. It’s only with God’s help that he is able to deliver.
Another commentator, working with this passage, made this observation: “Certainty of call can be a wonderful thing, but certainty of call can also be a terrible thing.”[10] When we feel God is calling us to a task, especially one like this, we have to be careful. Is it God giving us the strength to carry it out? Or is it our own ego? The call of God should always humble us.
Ezekiel is called to take a message to the Hebrews who are in exile, to help them theologically deal with the fall of Jerusalem and the destruction of the temple. It’s not an easy assignment. No one likes hearing that they (and their disobedience) are the cause of their current troubles. Think about us, as a nation. How often do politicians and political pundits want to blame someone or something else for the nation’s woes. “It’s the other side that’s the problem!” we hear over and over again. “We’re not to blame.” Such rhetoric doesn’t help us solve the problem. Ezekiel’s call was to help shape God’s people as they come to understand their responsibility for God’s judgment.
We should consider Ezekiel’s calling. We need to remember that like him, we’re not out to win a popularity contest. We’re to seek out what God’s will is for our lives. For our Elders, many of whom marched in our morning procession, they’re also to seek out God’s will for our congregation’s life. In the end, we’ll be judged not on how many people liked us or on how elegant our words have been or even how many converts were made under our leadership. We’ll be judged on how faithful we have been to God’s word and to his work.
I am sure when Knox set sail for Scotland in 1559, he had no idea the impact his ministry would have on the Church in Scotland. And it continued on to Ireland, and in the Americas and Australia and New Zealand. Knox work continues to influence the church in places like the Sudan and Malawi, Brazil and Korea… As John heard in his vision on the Isle of Patmos, “Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord, says the Spirit. They rest from their labors, and there works follow them.”[11] The impact of Ezekiel’s words are still felt thousands of years later and Knox’s work is still bearing fruit nearly 500 years later.
According to the ways we think, Ezekiel was an unlikely candidate for a prophet. He wasn’t even strong enough to stand before God. He had to be given the energy to get up. He was humble. Likewise, Knox was an unlikely candidate for a Reformer. He was a marked man and had a babe in arms. But God called both Ezekiel and Knox. Don’t ever think that God can’t use you because you are weak, because you are not elegant with speech, because you are not religious enough, or because you have other obligations. Those are the kind of people that God uses to make a difference in the world.
Are you open to God’s call? Amen.
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Today, as we confess our faith, we are going to read selections from the Second Helvetic Confession of Faith. Although Knox would later pen the Scots Confession of Faith, he personally found great comfort and satisfaction in the Helvetic Confessions. Knox’s hero in the faith, the one who led him into the Protestant Fold, was George Wishart. Wishart was the translator of the Helvetic Confession of 1536 into English. Just a few weeks after Knox meet Wishart, the Protestant preacher was burned at the stake in St. Andrews, Scotland. [12]
Excerpts from the Second Helvetic Confession
Pastor: ALL THINGS ARE GOVERNED BY THE PROVIDENCE OF GOD.
People: We believe that all things in heaven and on earth, and in all creatures, are preserved and governed by the providence of this wise, eternal and almighty God. For David testifies and says: “The Lord is high above all nations, and his glory above the heavens! Who is like the Lord our God, who is seated on high, who looks far down upon the heavens and the earth?” Again: “Thou searchest out all my ways. Even before a word is on my tongue, lo, O Lord, Thou knowest it altogether”
Pastor: WE ARE ELECTED OR PREDESTINATED IN CHRIST.
People: Therefore, although not on account of any merit of ours, God has elected us, not directly, but in Christ, and on account of Christ, in order that those who are now ingrafted into Christ by faith might also be elected. But those who were outside Christ were rejected, according to the word of the apostle, “Examine yourselves, to see whether you are holding to your faith. Test yourselves. Do you not realize that Jesus Christ is in you?”
Pastor: WE ARE ELECTED FOR A DEFINITE PURPOSE.
People: Finally, the saints are chosen in Christ by God for a definite purpose, which the apostle himself explains when he says, “He chose us in him for adoption that we should be holy and blameless before him in love. He destined us for adoption to be his sons through Jesus Christ that they should be to the praise of the glory of his grace”[13]
[1] See Ezekiel 33:3ff.
[2]Jane Dawson, John Knox (New Haven, CT: Yale, 2015), 129
[3] Jeremiah 38:6.
[4] Margaret S. Odell, Ezekiel (Macon, GA: Smyth & Helwys, 2005), 40-43, 50.
[5] Acts 9:23-25.
[6] Acts 7:54ff.
[7] Luke 9:23
[8] Daniel C. Fredericks, “Diglossia, Revelation and Ezekiel’s Inaugural Right,” Journal of the Evangelical Theological Society (June 1998).
[9] Exodus 4:10f; Judges 6:15f and Isaiah 6:5-7
[10] John C. Holbert, “Lectionary for July 5, 2009, Ezekiel 2:1-5” in “WorkingPreacher.org”
[11] Revelation 14:13
[12] Dawson, 31-33.
[13] This is taken from the Second Helvetic Confession, Chapter X. See Presbyterian Church USA, Book of Confession, (Louisville, KY, 2004), 5.052-5.054.
This Sunday, April 23, 2017, Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church will celebrate Scottish heritage with a Kirkin’ o’ the Tartans service. This blog post is a repeat of one done in 2016.
The Kirkin’ is a colorful and festive service that includes flying of dozens of tartans throughout the Sanctuary along with a procession of tartans that will be led by a Beadle (a lay assistant to the Pastor) carrying the Bible and a bagpipe. The service will begin at 10 AM. The sermon will be preached by the pastor, the Reverend Dr. C. Jeffrey Garrison, a descendant of the MacKenzies who settled in the upper Cape Fear region of North Carolina in the mid-18th Century. The service will include Scottish prayers. Everyone is welcomed.
In April 1941, the Reverend Peter Marshall, pastor of New York Avenue Presbyterian Church in Washington, held the first Kirkin’ o’ the Tartans service. Using bagpipes and colorful tartans, the service was designed to raise money to support Scottish Churches during the war as well as to buy a mobile kitchen for the British Army. Britain had been at war with Germany two years before the United States entered the war late in 1941. This service caught on and those of Scottish origins began to hold such services across the country.
Sanctuary for 2015 Kirkin
The legend behind the service is that following the defeat of the Jacobite Revolt in 1745, which was mostly a Civil War in Scotland, the national government disarmed the clans and also forbade the wearing of tartans. At this time, those who had close connections to the tartan would bring pieces of it under their clothes and have it blessed by the parish pastor. It was also at this time many of those in Scotland moved to the New World seeking a better life. Today, in the service, the tartans are proudly displayed. However, legends are not always factual. While it is true the wearing of the tartan was forbidden along with the disarmament of the clans, originally different clans did not have a specific tartan. Most wove tartans the color of herbs and berries found in their region, their main identification being the pins and badges worn on their hats, such as the sprig of juniper for the Macleods and white heather for the MacIntyres.
Piper at 2015 Kirkin’
The ban on not wearing the tartan was never fully implemented and it didn’t last long. After all, the Black Watch regiment of the British army continued to wear their tartans. In the late 18th Century, the novels of Sir Walter Scott brought back an interest in a highly romanced version of clan life. During this time individual clans began to adopt specific tartans. This caught on and by the time King George IV visited Scotland in 1822, all the clans had their own tartans and they were on display for the king. Not only was the ban no longer enforced, the wearing of the tartans was encouraged as a patriotic act as they welcomed their king.
You don’t have to be a Scot descendant to attend. Everyone is invited and encouraged to “be a Scot for a day!” For more information, call the church at 598-0151 or check out our website at www.sipres.org.
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Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
John 20:1-18
Easter Sunday 2017
When I was a kid, Easter wasn’t as exciting as Christmas. On Christmas morning, we got lots of presents and could stay in our pajamas as we explored them. For Easter, we had to put on our church clothes. But there was always a basket waiting for us when we came out for breakfast. There were eggs that we’d colored along with a variety of candies and goodies. Unlike the Christmas stocking that always contained healthy things like nuts and fruit, the Easter basket contained chocolate! Mom did a wonderful job playing Easter Bunny.
In addition to those high-caloric gifts, about the time I was in the first grade, there would be another gift that I was pretty sure was chosen by my dad. The first gift came the Easter after the Christmas I received my first rod and reel, one of those push button Zebco outfits. In the basket that Easter was a box with a fishing lure, a yellow jitterbug. This is the type of lure that drives bass nuts at sunset and just afterwards, when they are coming up to the surface to feed. The lure wattles back and forth on the top of the water, moving a bit like a giant waterbug, and if there is a bass that’s hungry, watch out.
The next year and for as long as I received Easter baskets, it would contain some kind of fishing equipment. One year, there was a collection of plastic worms and weed-less hooks, another year was a Repella or a Hopkins spoon or some other lure.
In recalling this tradition, the giving of fishing lures, I have come to the conclusion that such gifts are appropriate for Easter. Not only did the spring weather bring out the fishermen side of our family, but the early disciples were fishermen. And Jesus called them to begin a new life, of fishing for people. They are to continue to cast out the good news, like we might cast a lure up against a log in the water, in the hopes that those who hear the message might be drawn in and experience the one who can give us new life. We, too, are to make such casts.
Let’s hear the Easter story again, this morning we’ll be looking at John’s account. Read John 20:1-18.
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When I was in high school, I sat in the balcony of the church with friends. It was a place we could get away from our parents and, sometimes (or most of the time) joke around. But there was one Easter Sunday I recall, in which I was moved and wrote the only Haiku poem that I have ever deemed worthy to remember.
Glorious morning,
The day our God created
The very first dawn
I could never get that last line to five syllables, as traditional haiku requires, but I have always liked the poem. For you see, Easter signifies a new beginning, a new dawn, and glorious it is. We are no longer trapped in the old ways of doing things. God’s kingdom is at hand. Although we often forget this, that first Easter set us free to focus on what really matters. And every year, we should be once again reminded that Jesus died and lives and reigns eternally. And so shall we, if we believe.
Most of us have heard the story of the resurrection from John’s gospel many times. But every time I read and study it, new things pop out. This section begins with three references to time: it was early, it was the first day of the week, and it was still dark. A new era is dawning. The world is waking to a new reality. Only those who are to become witnesses to this era are unaware. They’re not like the birds that sing so early in the morning as they anticipate dawn. Mary Magdalene came to the tomb. John doesn’t tell us why. It sounds like she’s alone although her use of the pronoun “we” in verse two might indicate there were others with her. The other gospels give us the names of other women. All four of the gospels speak of the women being the first witnesses to the empty tomb. Women, who had no legal status, were the first to know. And in John’s gospel, we see that Mary is the first one sent by Jesus to proclaim the good news. What does that tell us? Women have every right to proclaim the gospel!
When Mary found the tomb open and empty, she runs to tell the disciples. There’s a lot of running that happens this morning. I can imagine her out-of-breath, crying out, “They have taken the Lord from the tomb.” Who took him? Religious authorities? Roman soldiers? Grave robbers? Mary doesn’t yet grasp what has happened. Neither does Peter and the other disciple, but they are curious. They race each other back to the tomb. The other disciple wins but pauses when he gets to the tomb while Peter barges right on in. Jesus is gone, but the linen wrappings that was used to cover his body are still present. Why? Some suggest that the wrappings were a clue that his body wasn’t stolen by some grave robber. They wouldn’t have spent the time unwrapping the body.
The disciples check out the tomb and find it empty. We’re told in verse eight that the other disciple, not Peter, believed. But what did he believe? Did he believe that Jesus had risen? Or did he believe that Mary was right, Jesus isn’t here. Then they head home? What more can they do? Jesus is gone. I pretty sure they don’t fully understood what had happened at this point.
Mary, on the other hand, sticks around. She’s troubled. But she doesn’t know what happened. When she gets her nerve up, she sticks her head inside and sees angels, one on each end of the bench upon which Jesus’ body had laid. Obviously, the angels weren’t present or weren’t visible to Peter and the other disciple. The angels sit in a manner to resemble the Ark of the Covenant, with the angels serving at the cherubim who sat on each side of the mercy seat.[1]
But Mary still doesn’t get it. She leaves the tomb and asks a man standing there, whom she assumes is a gardener, where they have taken the body. It’s only when Jesus calls her name that she understands. The same is true for us.
She turns and cries out, Rabbi. It’s an endearing term. Jesus is her teacher (and ours). Now she gets its, at least a part of it. Jesus lives! In our text, Jesus says do not hold on to me for I have not yet ascended to the father, but the original text here suggests that one should stop doing what one is doing. This implies that Mary is hold on to him, hugging him like we might hug someone we loved but thought we would never see again. Mary is worshipping Jesus, in the flesh. He is not some untouchable ghost.[2]
In the gospels, when one is called by Jesus, they are given a mission.[3] Mary is the first of the “sent ones,” the first missionary, as she is sent to Jesus’ disciples, Jesus’ brothers, with the good news. And that she does, proclaiming, probably shouting, “I have seen the Lord!”
Mary’s response to Jesus’ resurrection is similar to what happens in the third book of Dante’s Divine Comedy. You’ve probably heard of Dante’s Inferno. It’s the most famous of his Comedies. This is a comedy in the classical sense (kind of like Shakespeare’s plays or the Book of Job) where tragedy turns out well in the end. In the last book, Paradise, Dante makes it to heaven. And there, he’s not given an explanation to his questions, or told why he had to take a torturous journey. Instead, in the presence of God, he has no ability to ask questions. He can only worship.[4] Mary grabbing Jesus and calling him Rabbi is her worship. Of course, worship isn’t just adoration, it is also work and Jesus has a task for her and sends her on her way.
If you haven’t encountered Jesus, listen to this story, to the messages of this book. Is Jesus calling your name? Pray and be prepared to be surprised. This was not what Mary or the Disciples were expecting this morning. They were pleasantly surprised.
And when we encounter Jesus, we should feel like Mary, a desire to worship, but we should also realize that Jesus calls us to do his work in the world. There is something he wants us to do, not to earn our salvation, but to build his kingdom. Jesus died, but lives. He ascended to the Father, but he also lives in us. Are we doing our part to reflect his beautiful face of love to the world? Amen.
©2017
[1] Frederick Dale Bruner, The Gospel of John: A Commentary (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2012), 1151.
[2] Bruner, 1153.
[3] Bruner, 1153-1154.
[4] M. Craig Barnes, The Pastor as Minor Poet, (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans,2009), 110.
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
Galatians 6:1-10
April 9, 2017
Palm Sunday is a difficult day to preach. We hear about the glorious parade of Jesus entering Jerusalem. It sounds like a time to celebrate, yet we know what’s going to happen. The people who showed up with palm branches, all excited, are some of the same folks who show up on Friday and call for Jesus’ crucifixion. Palm Sunday is a reminder, maybe even a warning, a situation can deteriorate quickly, people are mostly interested in themselves, and no one likes to go against a crowd. It’s still a problem today, just as it was in the first century. Are we willing to stand with our Savior in good times and bad? Do we trust him that much?
Paul has a problem, as we’ve seen over the past six weeks as we’ve explored his Epistle to the Galatians. Today, instead of focusing on Palm Sunday, I’m finishing up our journey through this letter. Paul needs to help these folks get back on track. He has refuted the teachings of the false preachers whose work within these churches have caused confusion. Again and again, Paul emphasizes grace over the law. But just because you are not saved by the law doesn’t mean you can do what you want. Toward the end of the fifth chapter, he warns his readers of the dangerous work of the flesh. Then, as he comes toward his conclusion of this letter, he realizes that some might take what he said and use it as an opportunity to deal with the sins of others. So Paul offers a few suggestions about how Christians should correct someone caught in sin. We should consider, from this passage, how we, as a body of believers, are to live graciously and in a way that encourages one another to strive for holiness. And to bring this back to Palm Sunday. How would Jesus want the early church to deal with those believers who waved Palm Branches and then shouted for crucifixion? Would they have been welcomed into the Upper Room before Pentecost? Should they be? READ GALATIANS 6:1-10
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There are two themes in this passage: restoring the sinner and humbly doing the work assigned.
In a way, the Roman world was an “anything goes” world as much as our own society seems to be that way. But that’s not the world in which Paul lives. He’s not some post-modern, politically correct philosopher who thinks everything is relative and that there are no absolute standards. That’s our world; it was, to some extent, the Roman World (or at least the Corinthian World as Paul was certainly upset at their “anything goes” attitude). But in this letter, Paul seems to understand the church in Galatia will do its part and encourage their members to live righteously even though that’s not how they are made right with God.
Yet, even here, dangers lurk. Paul understand human nature. He knows there are some who will enjoy pointing out the faults of others. There are people who have the mistaken notion that it makes them look good when another person falls. Such people relish in their own self-righteousness. As Mark Twain often quipped, “nothing needs reforming as much as someone else’s bad habit.” It’s this tendency, reforming another’s bad habits while ignoring their own, that Paul’s trying to nip in the bud.
Paul tells those who have the Spirit of God within them to restore those who have fallen away from the church. You know, the church and society in general aren’t very good at restoring the fallen. We’re real good at shooting the wounded, but we fail when it comes to reforming people. Two examples: First, look at churches and consider what generally happens after a church fight? Most often, one party and maybe even both parties leave. The sin of American Protestantism is that we find it easier to go somewhere else than to stick it out and mend fences or lift up fallen brethren. The church is to exhibit the Kingdom of God, but do we?
And if you think church is bad at reforming people, society is even worse. Consider the recidivism rates in our prisons. But Paul isn’t addressing society’s failures here; he’s focusing on the church. The church is to be a community that takes seriously the reformation of individuals. We’re to be a community that instead of shooting the wounded, we bind them up and restore them to wholeness.
If we who make up the church are to fulfill our calling to restore those who have fallen away, we’re going to have to be gentle and humble and gracious. It’s a dangerous task as Lesslie Newbigin, a former missionary to India notes, when commenting on human efforts to bring about the kingdom of God. “The project of bringing heaven down to earth,” he writes, “always results in bringing hell up from below.”[1] Being a legalist, pointing out the faults of others in a heavy-handed way, don’t cut it. Self-righteous attitudes drive wedges between people, making those in power look good while offending parties are set up for ridicule.
But more than that, such attitudes also contain the seeds for destruction of the righteous whom succumb to the sin of pride. That’s why Paul tells us in the fourth verse to test our own work on its merits and not to rate ourselves by what our neighbor has and hasn’t done. Jesus is our example and model, not our neighbors. If we want to compare ourselves to another person, we should stand next to our Savior and see how far we fall short of the standard. Standing next to him, we’ll get a crick in our necks looking up. When compared to Jesus, we’re all humbled. But the human preference is for us to pick out some ax murderer to judge ourselves against them and then be misled into thinking we’re doing a good job because we’ve refrained from bashing heads in.
Jesus’ comments, in the Sermon on the Mount, come to mind. Before we go operating on our brother’s eyes, we should make sure our own eyes are free from obstruction.[2] The only way for us to be clean and free is to accept the forgiveness of the one who washes us in his blood. And we must realize that Jesus don’t clean us up so that we can become an agent for the moral Gestapo. The gentle way God deals with us becomes our model for dealing with one another.
If we’re to seriously take to heart this passage, we should understand several things: We who are believers are called to help each other live better and godlier lives. This is a part of our calling as disciples. But in fulfilling this task, we have to be careful. We’re to be gentle and humble, realizing that even when we’ve dedicated ourselves to righteousness living, the temptation to think more highly of ourselves than we should is present. As Christians, we’ve been saved by the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, not by our own hands. As Christians, we’re to share and show such grace to one another. Only then will the church be the community we’re called to be.
The second theme is pleasantly doing the work God has assigned us and not letting it go to our head or to spend all our time focused on and worried about what others are doing.
In the first sermon on Galatians, I told you a story about Jayber and Troy in Wendell Berry’s novel, Jayber Crow, set in Port Williams, Kentucky. Berry uses his novels to give a glimpse into how a community can exist and function in a way that will be beneficial to the all its residents as well as for the land and the environment. One of the problems with Troy, in his novel, is his impatience. He’s one of the younger farmers in town and is impressed with power and machinery and isn’t worried about debt, which he considers a part of doing business, nor is he particularly concerned about the land. He doesn’t even consider himself a farmer, he wants to be thought of as an agri-businessman. Many of the older farmers around Port Williams think Troy is foolish, but he has such a high opinion of himself, that he doesn’t care.
Troy receives a great gift. His wife, an only child, is heir to one of the larger farms in the township. When her parents retire Troy takes over and immediately begins to do things that worries his wife and his in-laws. He rips out the hedgerows between fields so he can grow more crops. He leverages the land to buy more land and then, because he can’t do all the farming with his old equipment, he borrows for larger tractors and larger implements. He’s always running, trying to keep up with a larger and larger operation. Always behind, he no longer enjoys the cycle of the seasons, the periods of hard work and the times of rest. The farm, which would have given him and his wife a good life, becomes a burden. Its land is depleted and he loses it all to the bank. By focusing on his own need to be important, by constantly wanting more, he squanders the gift.[3]
We’ve all been given gifts; we’ve all been given a packet of seeds. Do we sow them only for ourselves? If so, we’ll join Troy and countless others in squandering what we’ve been given. But if we use our gifts in a way that will bring honor and glory to our Creator, to sow them in the Spirit, others will benefit and in the long run, we’ll find dividends stored up eternally for us. Work is not a bad thing. Work is good. Our labor connects us to God and should connect us to others. It’s through what we do in our world, our daily tasks that we live out our Christian faith. Paul assumes we are working and therefore in danger of weariness. I’m sure if the Galatians were not doing anything and therefore were in no danger of becoming weary, Paul’s letter would have reflected to different concerns than the ones he’s talking about here. But here, he’s concerned about them wearing themselves out and how we might take measures to avoid allowing our work to lead us into weariness or for it to become drudgery, something that we despise.
This Epistle to the Galatians is about grace, and grace should lead to gratitude. We’re not here to work in order to earn our salvation, we’re to receive it as a gift and then use it to live making this world a better place. What Jesus did for us this week, which we call Holy, changed the world. We are now living in a new world, one of forgiveness and love, grace and abundance. Live in this new world, not the old! Accept what Jesus has done for us and then let him live in you so that your life might bear fruit. Amen.
©2017
[1] From Lesslie Newbigin, Foolishness to the Greeks, (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1986), 117; as quoted by Philip Yancey, What’s So Amazing about Grace? (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1997), 234.
[2] Matthew 7:3-5.
[3] Wendell Berry, Jayber Crow (Washington DC: Counterpoint, 2000)
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
Galatians 4:1-16
March 26, 2017
A farming community was experiencing a severe drought. Day after day, month after month, there were no clouds in the sky. Pastures dried up, crops wilted. Ranchers began to sell off their herds because there wasn’t enough feed and water. Things were looking bad. A township meeting was called and people discussed what they could do about the situation. After much thought, someone suggested there was nothing they could do but pray. A prayer meeting was called for the next evening on the town square and the preacher agreed to lead the service. The next evening and everyone gathered. The preacher climbed up on the bandstand. “Do you know why you’re here?” he asked. “To pray for rain,” they responded in unison. “Then why do I not see any umbrellas?”[1]
We’re continuing our look at Paul’s letter to the Galatians, a book talks a lot about faith (faith in Jesus Christ, not necessarily in rain clouds). As I noted earlier, this letter was written in response to a group of people who came behind Paul, teaching that Paul had it all wrong. According to these “false-evangelists,” the people of Galatia need to observe Jewish law. These are folks who had mostly come out of a pagan background. In addition to accepting Jesus and being baptized, they are now told they must observe 600 and some regulations. Paul is furious. Why put additional burdens on people?
Much of the center portion of the letter focuses on our relationship to Abraham. Paul, in writing about Abraham, goes to the heart of what makes one Jewish. But according to Paul, it was Abraham’s faith that made him right with God, not his obedience to the law. Remember, from last week’s sermon, where Paul noted that the law came over four centuries after Abraham’s death.[2] Paul continues to reflect on this connection to Abraham in the fourth chapter. Abraham was to obtain an inheritance, a large family, numbering more than the stars in the heavens or the grains of sand on the beach.[3]
The Jewish thought was that if you are an heir of Abraham, you were heirs of the promise. Paul doesn’t deny that. Instead, he suggests that the connection to Abraham is by faith, not by birth, and that those who have faith like Abraham, will inherit a wonderful promise. Read Galatians 4:1-16.
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I’ve recently enjoyed reading Kidnapped by Robert Lewis Stevenson. For some reason, I’d not read this as a child and didn’t realize how much Scottish history is told in the novel as it is set just a few years after the Jacobite rebellion in the 1740s. I’m sure I’ll draw from the book at our Kirkin’ o’ the Tartans service next month.
Kidnapped is the story of David Balfour, a young man of seventeen, whose parents have died. David is told to take a letter to his uncle, at the House of the Shaws. He doesn’t know what’s in the letter as it’s sealed, except that it has to do with his inheritance and will secure his future. His uncle is not exactly excited about receiving it. Under the guise of visiting an attorney to settle up the inheritance, the young David is knocked senseless and ends up in chains on a ship bound for America where he will be sold into indentured servanthood. The uncle did this because, David’s father, as the first born, had rights to the family estate and those rights extended to David.
Aboard ship, it appears David’s future will be difficult. He’ll be essentially a slave. But the ship strikes a reef off the Isle of Mull and David along with Alan Beck Stuart, a former leader in the Jacobite Rebellion, make their way back across Scotland, with many misadventures along the way in this rough period of Scottish history.
David placed his hope in an inheritance. It was what kept him alive through his many trials. If he could obtain his inheritance, it would secure his future. In our world, as can be seen in the Kidnapped, inheritances can be a two-edged sword. They became sources of conflict. Someone feels they win and another feels they were slighted. Jealously prevails. “I should have gotten the house; I should have received the land; I should have been given the china…” Families split up and siblings never talk to one another when people feel shorted. Yet, on the positive side, an inheritance might provide a chance to do something different with our lives, or the ability to live secure and settled.
Paul uses inheritance as a way describe the blessings bestowed on those who have been redeemed by Jesus Christ, through faith. We are like adoptive children. When a child is adopted, they are as entitled to an inheritance as a naturally born child. The good news about this inheritance is that there is plenty to go around. No one will be shorted; everyone of faith will enjoy the blessings offered by God. And there will be no jealously, for we will all be living in awe, in the presence of God.
Paul begins this chapter reminding us that a child who has an inheritance is, in a way, like a slave. He or she is controlled by a trustee until the child is an adult. When the trustee is evil, as was David Balfour’s uncle, then things go wrong. But that’s not the case with us. The trustee that Paul speaks of is the law. This is just another metaphor Paul uses, such as the law being a disciplinarian or a teacher which he used in the third chapter. The law was to keep us on track until the coming of Jesus. Through Jesus, we are adopted by God; we become a part of God’s family.
As I pointed out, an adoptive child is entitled to an inheritance. So God adopts us and places Jesus spirit into our hearts. We are no longer slaves to the law. We can now call God, Daddy, for we’re a part of God’s family in the world and destined for glory.
In the eight verse, Paul refers to the previous condition of those in Galatia, their lives before they came to the good news of Jesus. They were enslaved to other spirits, gods that held no power. There is a debate as to what Paul is referring to here.[4] It appears that some, listening to these false teachers, decided that instead of adding on the burden of the law, they’d go back to their pagan ways. Such ways may have had something to do with astrology. Or, maybe Paul is still referring to the Jewish laws and the Jewish calendar with its prescribed fasts and feasts. Neither of these—astrology or observing a religious calendar—had the power to free the people from their burden to sin and to offer them an inheritance of life everlasting.
Paul, at the end of our reading, makes a personal plea for the people of Galatia to reconsider. He speaks how he’s afraid he’d wasted his time on them. He begs them to become like him. Paul often uses himself as an example of what it means to have faith in Jesus Christ. Then Paul provides us a brief insight into his personal life. We learn he was suffering from some kind of physical ailment when he was with the Galatians. Was this the thorn-in-his-flesh?[5] Whatever it was, he was thankful that despite his problems, the Galatians listened and responded faithfully to his message. But now they are turning their backs on him, and he grieves.
Probably every preacher has felt this pain at some point or another in their lives, when someone who had believed and seemed so full of faith, have turned their backs on the gospel. It grieves Paul, but he realizes that it’s beyond his abilities to get them to change course. Grace is freely offered but it must be accepted on faith. If they want to continue down the path to their old ways, there is nothing Paul can do to change their mind. He, like those in Galatia and us who live two millenniums later, must live by faith, trusting in our inheritance. Paul’s way, the way of faith, is the one that leads to life.
Dark as my path may seem to others,” Helen Keller wrote, “I carry a magic light in my heart. Faith, the spiritual strong searchlight, illumines the way. Although sinister doubts lurk in the shadows, I walk unafraid toward the Enchanted Wood where the foliage is always green; where joy abides; where nightingales nest and sing, and where life and death are one in the presence of the Lord.[6] Amen.
©2017
[1] I adapted this story from The Christian Leader’s Golden Treasury (New York: Gross & Dunlap, 1955), 178.
[2] Galatians 3:17.
[3] Genesis 15:5, 22:17.
[4]Ronald Y. K. Fund, The Epistle to the Galatians (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1988), 192-193.
[5] 2 Corinthians 12:7
[6] Helen Keller, Christian Leader’s Golden Treasury, 177,
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
Galatians 3:19-29
March 19, 2017
I shared this story this past Wednesday in the Bible Study that I’m teaching on Galatians. It’s a story of grace. LaGuardia, a former mayor of New York City, was quite a character. Today, we remember him whenever we fly to or through LaGuardia airport. As you probably know, the airport is named after this man who served as mayor of the city during the depths of the Depression through the turmoil of the war years. A small man, only 5’ 2”, LaGuardia was a hands-on mayor. He went with the police on raids of illegal nightclubs, took entire orphanages to ball game, and read the Sunday funnies to children on the radio during a newspaper strike. And then there was this episode.
It was a cold night in January 1935, when the mayor turned up in night court for the poorest ward in the city. LaGuardia dismissed the judge, giving him the night off, and took the bench. One of the defendants brought before him was an older woman charged with stealing a loaf of bread. He asked her about her alleged crime and she told how her daughter’s husband had deserted, leaving her daughter sick and with starving children. The woman had stolen bread for her grandchildren. The shopkeeper refused to drop charges, saying that it was a bad neighborhood and she needed to be punished to teach others a lesson. LaGuardia wondered what to do.
After some silence, he spoke to the woman, saying: “I’ve got to punish you. The law makes no exception, ten dollars or ten days in jail.” As he was pronouncing the sentence, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a ten dollar bill, and leaned over the bench to hand it to the woman. “Here’s the ten-dollar fine which I now remit. Furthermore,” he said, “I’m going to fine everyone in this courtroom fifty cents for living in a town where a person has to steal bread so her grandchildren can eat. Bailiff, collect the fine and then give them to the woman.”
The next day, New York newspapers reported that $47.50 was collected and given to a bewildered old lady who had stolen bread to feed her grandchildren. Fifty cent came from the red-faced grocer, the rest from petty criminals, people with traffic violations, and police officers. And for the privilege of giving, they gave the mayor a standing ovation.[1]
Throughout Galatians, Paul pounds home the message of grace. Although the law is important, as LaGuardia demonstrated, it is inferior to grace, to God’s promises in Jesus Christ. As LaGuardia paid the woman’s debt, Jesus has paid ours. Today I will reading our text from the Message translation. Read Galatians 3:19-29.
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At the beginning of the classic movie, the Sound of Music, the Von Trapp family consists of a hosts of children and a widower father who is a strict disciplinarian. These kids are bright, energetic and devious. They have driven away all governesses hired by the father. Upon the scene comes Sister Maria, played by Julie Andrews. She’s to be the governess over these unruly kids. She has her work cut out for her. When she is introduced to the kids, the oldest, Liesel, a girl of 16, announces that she no longer needs a governess. Maria accepts her statement and says, “Well, then, I guess we’ll just be good friends.” Later in the movie, when she finds herself in a tight spot with her father, and is saved by Maria’s intervention, she admits that she could use a governess after all. And, as the movie progresses, they also become good friends. Eventually Maria and Captain Von Trapp marry. Maria becomes step-mother to the children. Liesel may not have needed a governess or a babysitter any more, but she does find Maria’s presence useful as she struggles with becoming a young woman in a world torn apart with the rise of Nazism.[2] The same could be said with our use of the law. It’s useful like a governess, although not what’s ultimately important.
“So, what is the purpose of the law,” Paul asks in verse 19. The law is a babysitter! In this opening verse, Paul remarks how the law to help lead people until the coming of Christ. The law helped check transgressions, keeping us from getting too far off track. Paul later returns to this theme, in verse 24 and 25, using the analogy of the Greek tutors who were hired by wealthy families to assure their children were schooled. The law was to keep us straight and focused, like Maria kept the kids in line, but it didn’t have the power to give us life, or salvation. As God has promised all along, the day was coming when God, out of his gracefulness, was going to open up a way for us to mature into a relationship with himself. The day was coming when the law would be written in our hearts.[3] Certainly, the law was “not a firsthand encounter with God.” But, with Christ, we have been brought into a direct relationship with God. When we have Christ in our hearts, the law is no longer primary.
An interesting thing we should realize about the law is that it was given to the Hebrew people at Sinai, after their deliverance from bondage in Egypt. Earlier in this chapter, in verse 17, Paul notes that the law came 430 years after the promise was made to Abraham. Throughout Scripture, grace always precedes law! God loves us before we even have a chance to love God!
According to the Second Helvetic Confession, which is in our Book of Confessions, the law was given to:
[T]each that this law was not given to men that they might be justified by keeping it, but that rather from what it teaches we may know (our) weakness, sin and condemnation, and, despairing of our strength, might be converted to Christ in faith. For the apostle openly declares: “The law brings wrath,” and, “Through the law comes knowledge of sin” and, “If a law had been given which could justify or make alive, then righteousness would indeed be by the law. But the Scripture (that is, the law) has concluded all under sin, that the promise which was of the faith of Jesus might be given to those who believe . . . Therefore, the law was our schoolmaster unto Christ, that we might be justified by faith”.[4]
The law as schoolmaster, or as babysitter or governess. It has a purpose, to help us mature, but it does not bring us into salvation. We are justified by faith in Jesus Christ. Historically, Calvin outlined three uses of the law. It brings us to where we can see our own sinfulness and our need of a Savior. It help us to live more righteously as we strive to please our Savior. And finally, for some outside of grace, the fear of the law serves to check their wickedness.[5] The law can be useful, but it can never save us, as Paul drives home in these verses.
Now, if you remember, Paul’s purpose for writing this letter is that a group of Jewish Christians have come behind Paul and taught these Gentiles that to be Christians, there is more they need to do.[6] Essentially, they need to become Jewish in order to be Christian. In other words, they need to be bound to the law. Paul is dead set against such teachings and he reminds the Gentiles the benefits we have in Christ. This leads to Paul’s final point in this chapter, where he demonstrates our equality in Jesus Christ. The old demarcations of society—gender, legal status, and nationality—are swept away.
We now have unity and freedom in Christ. No one is better than another or has a higher status. Paul attacks this idea that Jewish Christians who keep the law are higher up in the pecking order. That’s not the case. Likewise, whether you are Greek or Roman or Jewish doesn’t matter. In a patriarchal society, Paul destroys the distinctions based on one’s gender. In a society where slavery is common, Paul destroys the distinctions between master and slave. Because we don’t earn our salvation, but accept it as a gracious gift, Paul wants us to realize there is no hierarchy within the church. None of us are any better than another. We may have different jobs, but at our core, we are all sinners. The difference between us and the world is that we’re sinners redeemed in Christ Jesus. Others need to be redeemed, and our work is to share the message and to offer to the world a new vision of hope. We are no longer to be shackled by a list of dos and don’ts. Instead, we are to let Christ rule in our hearts as we strive to love as he loves us.
Never look down on another. Let Christ shine from your hearts and you won’t have to worry about the burden of the law. That’s the good news. Amen.
©2017
[1] Story from the KERGYMA Program, Galatians and James: Faith and Work, which quoted it from William J. Bausch, A World of Stories, (Mystic, CT: Twenty-Third Publications, 1988), 233.
[2] This idea came from Scott Hoezee. See http://cep.calvinseminary.edu/sermon-starters/proper-7c/?type=lectionary_epistle
[3] Jeremiah 31:33. See also Romans 2:15.
[4] Presbyterian Church USA, Book of Confessions, 5.083.
[5] John Calvin, Institutes of the Christian Religion II, 7 & 8. See also Francois Wendel, Calvin: Origins and Development of His Religious Thought translated by Philip Mairet, (1963, Durham, NC: The Labyrinth Press, 1987), 196-201.
[6] Galatians 1:6-7.
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
Galatians 2:11-21
March 12, 2017
H. L. Mencken once said “Believing the worst about another person may be a sin, but it is seldom a mistake.”[1] The sage of Baltimore isn’t known for his religious sensitive but he got some things right. We are not to think ill of others who are also created in God’s image but, as we are all sinners, thinking too highly of another can also lead to problems. Paul has a better away. We are to think highly of Jesus Christ, who gives us poor sinners a chance in life! And because of what Christ has done for us, we’re to be welcoming of others, sharing with them our secret for a hope-filled life.
As I announced last week, I plan to preach through Paul’s letter to the Galatians during Lent. If you would like to dig deeper into this text, I invite you to attend our Wednesday evening soup and bread dinner and Bible study. Today, as we explore the ending of the second chapter, we come to heart of the matter for Paul. Here, he makes his strongest case for justification by faith in Jesus Christ. To be justified before God is to be made right with the Creator. Think about it. On our own, it’s hard work to be justified; in fact, as Paul says, it’s impossible! But thankfully we have Jesus Christ, whose death atones for our sins, and who calls us into the church family and finally, when life is over, helps us stand righteously before God the Father. We don’t depend on our own righteousness. We have good standing, we are justified because of what Jesus has done for us. He washed away our sin.
In our reading this morning, Paul speaks of an incident with Peter, but uses Cephas, which is a Greek transliteration of the Aramaic word, Peter. Both words mean “Rock” but here Peter is not steady like a rock. He crumbles under pressure. Read Galatians 2:11-21.
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I am a member of a writer’s group in Savannah. At our last meeting, Jim, one of the other members, brought a memoir piece to share. Jim is from New England, but after a stint in the army, attended Ole Miss. This was in the mid-60s, just a few years after the James Meredith had become the first African American to integrate the university. The incident he described involved him going into the cafeteria. He saw another friend, who was already eating, so he dropped his books on the table by his friend and went to get his food. As he was coming out of the line with his tray, he noticed that a black student had sat down with his friend. At this time, there was only a handful of African Americans at the university. They mostly kept to themselves. Racial tensions were high. He paused and debated within himself about going back over to where his book were, or finding someplace else to sit. He wondered what other students would think of him, a Yankee, sitting with an African-American. In the end, he did the right thing and sat with his friend and the young black student, but his hesitation bothered him as did the way other students pointed to them sitting together and whispered among themselves.
I’m sure we’ve all been in such situations. It might not have been racial. In school, most of us probably wanted to sit with the cool kids and not those who were on the outside. For whatever reason, some kids are picked, others are left out. But, as my mother used to ask me, how do you think they felt being left out? How do we feel when we’re not included?
Sadly, in this incident in Antioch, we learn that such actions of exclusion occurred even in the early church. However, there’s a catch-22 here. If we think that we can justify ourselves by including everyone, even if it’s the right thing to do, we’re fooling ourselves. The point Paul is making in this passage is that justification comes by grace through Jesus Christ. No, we shouldn’t want to hurt the feelings of others, but even more important as Paul sees it, we need to assure the unity of the church who is made up of sinners forgiven by Jesus Christ. Knowing what it feels like not to be included, isn’t it wonderful that Jesus includes us. Because he loved us, we are to love one another.
Let’s look at our text. Paul begins by recalling this incident with Peter that had occurred in Antioch. Peter, who’d been eating with Gentiles, all of a sudden shun Gentiles when a group of Jewish Christians from Jerusalem, who had been sent by James, arrive. Obviously, Peter wants these guys from Jerusalem to see that he’s still upholding the Jewish law, but his actions exclude those who are not Jewish. Paul realizes immediately that this incident has the potential to split the church into two factions: Jewish Christians and Gentile Christians. This split is happening. In Antioch, all the Jewish Christians follow Peter’s lead and head off by themselves. Furthermore, Paul is worried, and for good reason, that Jewish Christians are going to think themselves as superior to Gentile Christians.
Paul, like Jesus, is concerned about unity within the church.[2] You may recall that in his prayer the night before his crucifixion, Jesus prayed for unity.[3] Paul encourages his congregations to be unified. This is seen clearly in 1st Corinthians, where you have a congregation which consists of Romans, Greeks and Jews, rich and poor. Using the analogy of the body, Paul makes the case that everyone is needed if the church is going to be successful in its mission.[4] For Paul, it would be tragic for the church to be divided into two fractions, so he confronts Peter in front of the other Jewish Christians.
On the surface this seems that Paul isn’t using Jesus’ teachings on how to handle a disagreement. In Matthew 18, Jesus tells us to confront another in private, and you only bring in others as needed. But here, Paul is not just confronting Peter, but all of these Jewish Christians, including Barnabas whose actions, in Paul’s eyes, are shameful and inconsistent with the gospel.
This incident sets up an opportunity for Paul to delve into the doctrine of justification, or of being made right with God. We are not justified by observing the law. Avoiding pork, shunning those we consider sinners and eating with the right utensils won’t to cut it. Paul is clear; the law hasn’t worked. It didn’t work for the Jews and it’s not going to work for the Gentiles. Part of our human condition is that we’re sinners, every one of us. The only way we are to find peace, to be brought back into a relationship with God, is through Jesus Christ. But we must accept him and what he’s done for us.
But the law has done one thing for us, as Paul outlines in verses 17. Through the law, we realize that we’re sinners. We’re in need of a savior! Instead of focusing on the law, Paul wants his readers to focus on their relationship with God through Christ. We are to allow Christ to live through us, which means that our lives are going to be better. We don’t worry about the crossing ever “t” and dotting every “I”, but having been freed to live in Christ, our lives will bear fruit.
Paul closes out this section on a forceful high note. If we could be justified through the law, then Christ died in vain. If the law would have worked, then Jesus didn’t have to die. But because it didn’t work, Jesus willingly gave his life for us. Jesus makes the difference and accepts those who hears his calls and follows him. That’s good news!
But what does all this mean for us? “The church lives not by what we are able to do, but by what God has done and continues to do in Jesus Christ by the power of the Holy Spirit,” a theologian once said.[5] Did you hear that? What’s important isn’t what we can do as individuals or as a body, what’s important is what God has done and continues to do for us in Jesus Christ. For this reason, we live with hope even when there is no evidence for it, for we are not trusting in our own power or might, but in the God of Creation, who loves enough that he sent his Son to die so that we might live! It’s in Christ that we place our trust and because of him we are to welcome one another in love. Amen.
©2017
[1] Quoted in Andrew Purves and Charles Partee, Encountering God: Christian Faith in Turbulent Times (Louisville: Westminster/John Knox Press, 2000), 106
[2] Ronald Y. K. Fung, The Epistle to the Galatians: NICNT (Grand Rapids: Eerdman, 1988), 211.
[3] See John 15.
[4] 1 Corinthians 12:12ff.
[5] Mark Achtemeier, “The Lordship of Jesus Christ,” in A Passion for the Gospel: Confessing Jesus Christ for the 21st Century Mark Achtemeir and Andrew Purves, editors (Louisville KY: Geneva Press, 2000), 20.
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
March 5, 2017
Galatians 1:1-11
We’re entering the season of Lent. Early in church history, this was a traditional time of preparation for those desiring to be baptized on Easter Sunday. There are six Sundays during this season and this year, to compliment the class that I’m teaching on Galatians on Wednesday night (which you’re all welcome to join), I will be preaching on text from the Epistle throughout the season. In preparation, let me tell you a bit about this book.
Paul writes this letter to a group of congregations. There is debate, however, as to how many and just which congregations he’s addressing. The Galatians were Gauls, people of Celtic origin, who moved in ancient times into Central Asia Minor (think present day Turkey). However, there was also the Roman providence of Galatia that extended beyond the Galatian ethnic boundaries and included churches in the south in which we know Paul and Barnabas visited and helped organize.[1] But that’s a sidebar. For our purposes, what’s most important isn’t to whom the letter is written, but the issues Paul addresses.
Paul writes out of concern of false teachings and ideas circulating within these churches. It appears some other missionaries have come in behind Paul, telling the people that they aren’t doing church right. Gentile converts dominated the membership in these churches. These folks left behind their pagan ways, and are now being told they have to do more to earn their grace. Paul blasts these “agitators” for perverting the gospel and demanding these gentile converts to adopt the Jews ways.
In Galatians, Paul reiterates his beliefs. He summarizes the gospel of grace, informing the Galatians what they should believe and how their lives should reflect God’s mercy. READ Galatians 1:1-10.
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One of my favorite novels by Wendell Berry is Jayber Crow. Jayber found himself in Port Williams, Kentucky, Berry’s fictional town, in the late 1930s. He sticks around, becoming the town’s barber. But earlier in his life, Jayber had considered the ministry. He gave it up after he found he had too many questions. Even though his questions remain, in time be begins to serves as sort of a pastor to many in the town, especially the men, who find comfort and a listening ear in his shop. But with such a position, he also finds himself occasionally in a situation where he has to rebuke someone. It’s never pleasant, but sometimes is required.
One day, during the height of the Vietnam War, a debate ensued within his shop. There were several men waiting to have their ears lowered, when Troy, one of the local farmers, piped up about the war protesters. “They ought to round up every one them SOBs and put them right in front of the communists, and then whoever killed who, it would be all to the good.”
Troy’s comments were followed by an uneasy pause. No one knew for sure what to say or if they should try to top or counter his remarks. Jayber admits it was hard to do, but he stopped cutting hair and looked at Troy for a bit before breaking the silence. “Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them who hate you,” he quietly quoted. Angrily, Troy glared at Jayber, asking, “Where did you get that carp?” “Jesus Christ,” Jayber responded. “Oh,” Troy quietly mumbled. In recalling the encounter, Jayber said “it would have been a great moment in the history of Christianity, except that I did not love Troy.”[2]
Have you ever been in a situation where what is being said goes against what you know is true in Jesus Christ? If so, do you stick up for your faith? It’s hard, but do you try to explain why Jesus offers a better way? Yet, such rebukes must be done with humility and not superiority.
“I didn’t love Troy.” At least Jayber is honest; he knows his faults; he confesses his sin. Although he may not quite be there, Jayber is striving and certainly has a vision of how love and graciousness are necessary components to any correction offered to another soul. Rebukes are best done in love.
Paul has a problem. He’s got to get these folks in Galatia back on track. They’ve turned onto a siding that’s going to end in disaster if they don’t get back on the mainline. So he writes this letter to refute the teachings of the false preachers whose work within these churches have caused confusion. Paul cares for the people in Galatia, but he has little care for those who have stirred up the mess he’s addressing.
Paul begins by claiming his credentials for writing such a letter. He declares he isn’t sent by a human commission (although he was commissioned by the church in Antioch to be a missionary[3]). Paul claims to be an apostle sent by Christ through God the Father. Paul’s authority is divine. He’s working to share the message of hope that comes from Jesus Christ. Paul is first in a long line of clergy and Christian leaders since, who have been commissioned to do God’s work and who ultimately must answer not to those who have commissioned them, but to God, for their work and actions.
As Paul often does, in his opening, he calls upon the grace and peace of Jesus Christ to be with the church. But here Paul’s goes into more depth. In his other letters, Paul generally moves on after expressing God’s grace and peace. Here he digs in, noting that Jesus has given himself for our sin to free us from the present evil age… All of this is done according to the will of our God and Father, to whom be the glory forever. At the beginning of this letter, Paul provides insight into why he’s writing and from what authority.
The churches in Galatia have a problem. In Verse 6, Paul essentially says, “What are you thinking?” In many of his other letters, Paul at this point in his beginning gives thanks for those to whom he’s writing, but here Paul goes straight to the problem. The churches of Galatia are abandoning the grace found in Jesus Christ. For another gospel, Paul writes. And then, as if Paul realizes what he wrote, clarifies himself, noting that there is no other gospel. There is no other good news to be found, except in Jesus Christ.
Paul closes out our section this morning, returning back to his claim that he was not sent by a human commission. Now he says he does not seek human approval, nor is his first concern to please people. If that’s the case, he would not be a servant of Christ. Paul is living in the tension of all clergy. Who are we to please? The governing board of the church, the Elders, those who contribute the most, those who have the loudest voice, or none of the above? The answer is “none of the above,” for our first concern, for clergy but this also goes true for all of you as a lay members of the church, is to please Jesus Christ. And sometimes, as Jesus himself made clear, there will be opposition.[4] However, we’re to still look to Christ, for on that final day it will no longer matter what everyone else says or does, what will matter is whether or not we hear our Savior say, “Well done, good and faithful servant.”[5]
But you know, we’re not that different from the Galatians. I remember learning to play baseball. It’s the same with golf and tennis. You have to keep your eye on the ball. Keep your eye on the ball, just as with our faith, we have to keep our eye on Jesus. Thankfully we worship a merciful God who is willing to forgive, for if our salvation depended just on us, we’d be in a heap of trouble. In thankfulness for God’s mercy, keep your eye on Christ, keep him in the center of your life. Ultimately, what matters is that we please him. Amen.
©2017
[1] Ronald Y. K. Fung, The Epistle to the Galatians (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans,1988), 1.
[2] Wendell Berry, Jayber Crow (Washington, DC: Counterpoint, 2000), 287.
[3] Acts 13:2.
[4] For example, see Matthew 24:9-14.
[5] Matthew 25:21
Much of this material was taken from my homily during Al’s Memorial Service held at Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church on February 23, 2017. Here I am able to quote all of the first two letters Al wrote Chuck Colson.
Al Steuber died two weeks ago. I knew him as a gentle and humble man, who was always interested in what was happening at the church even though he was unable to participate much due to his wife’s illness (Alzheimer’s) and his own health. I knew Al had been a very successful leader in business. He had served as the president of Prulease Leasing (the largest holder of nuclear fuel in the nation), and was a vice president of its parent company, Prudential Insurance. But I hadn’t heard the full story of his conversion to Christianity. This changed when I sat down with his two daughters and a son-in-law to make arrangements for the service.
On May 5, 1954, toward the end of Al’s tour of duty in the United States Navy, Al and Jane met in Providence, Rhode Island. It was a day they’d always remember. The two met through a sister of one of his shipmates. After they were married, they had three children and Al was a successful in business.
But there was this one morning in the late 1970s that Al was not himself. He was worried, had stuff on his mind and anger pinned up inside. His wife was concerned. As he left for work that day, she began to pray, worried that with his state of mind, he might have a car accident or say something he’d later regret in the office. That evening, as was their habit, Al and Jane spent time alone, talking about the day. Al confessed to Jane that while he was driving to work that morning, he felt a calming peace wash over him. Jane then confessed that she’d spent the morning praying for him. Becoming intrigued, Al who had written a defense of atheism in college, decided to look into Christianity. Jane had attended Brown University with Chuck Colson, so he read Colson’s first book, Born Again. Al was moved by the book of the former council for President Nixon who had spent time in prison for his connections to Watergate.
Colson’s book and his wife’s piety led him to pray and to seek God in his life. He then wrote Colson a letter that appeared in Colson’s second book, Life Sentence.
Born Again has stirred me with hope that I can find meaning and purpose for my life. I have never been moved to such emotion on the subject of faith and Christ. I couldn’t stop the tears which so many of the incidents you related brought to my eyes. I was ashamed of myself for such lack of control. I moved to another room so my family wouldn’t notice this strange reaction. At one point–your testimony at Brother Blow’s Tuesday night service–I actually began sobbing. I was startled and shaken by my lack of composure and yet, at the same time, happy that I could feel such emotion.
Then, I prayed. I prayed for guidance in how I might truly accept Christ and become, at least, a “baby in Christ.”
I’ve achieved “success” as it is commonly measured and have a loving, Christian wife and three bright, healthy, straight-arrow children. Still, I’m the mid-40s guy you describe, afraid I’m losing my grip, unhappy, perplexed and ashamed before God that I am not happy because I’m so fully blessed. I have gotten up in the middle of the night to stare across an empty living room, consumed with anger toward my “enemies” and planned how to manipulate and maneuver them as well as to ponder how I am being manipulated and maneuvered.
To me, your most important message is that acceptance of Christ and understanding of its meaning is a continuing growth experience. Somehow, I have always felt it must be a one-time, cataclysmic occurrence from which point forward a person has totally “different” feelings, attitudes and behavior toward others. But now I think I understand these are only awakenings. I’m truly excited and I desperately wish to be born again.
Sincerely,
Alan Steuber
Wayland, Mass.
Not only did Colson write Al back, he called a friend of his, Tom Phillips, the president of Raytheon Corporation. Phillips lived in an adjacent town and led a Bible Study for businessmen. Phillips invited Al to his Bible Study. Through Phillips discipleship, Al began to mature in the faith. A few weeks later he replied to Colson’s letter, which is also found in Life Sentence, saying:
Dear Chuck,
The past five weeks have been the most remarkable and wonderful weeks of my life. When I felt compelled to write you after reading Born Again I looked upon it as some sort of emotional catharsis. I realize now my letter was a cry for help and I now understand the way Christians respond to such a plea.
When Tom Phillips contacted me I was startled, even a little wary. It was one thing to write a letter, but was I ready to discuss these new and strange emotions with a man I didn’t even know?
I have been attending a weekly prayer breakfast with Tom these past four weeks and it has been thrilling. The first time there I had something of the same reaction you expressed in the book. “Do grown men really sit around in a public restaurant and openly discuss their deeply personal experiences, talk about Jesus Christ as if He were sitting at the table with us, pray aloud?” But they do and now I do also. Brotherhood in Christ. I know what it means!
I also know what it means to be a “baby in Christ.” I have so much to learn, so much growing to do. But each day is a wonderful experience as I read and search for truth and understanding in prayer and discussion with my new Christian friends. I’m like a starving man suddenly placed at a banquet table. I haven’t yet disciplined myself. I devour every piece of Christian reading I can lay my hands on.
God bless you,
Alan Steuber
Al had committed his life to Christ.
As a Christian, Al found joy but also there were moments that tried his faith, such as when his beloved Jane was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. Yes, Al like many of the Psalmist before him, was mad at God. After all, he’d depended on Jane all these years to provide him a peaceful sanctuary at home. And as her diseased progressed, Al found himself doing many of the task she used to do. Later, Al would credit God for giving him the strength and changing him internally that allowed him to become the caregiver for the one who had cared for him while he served as the family’s provider.
In his retirement years, Al played golf and took up many hobbies. He was also active in church, serving as an Elder. Inspired by Colson, he became involved in a prison ministry. And in his spare time, he wrote a historical novel titled Taken Too Soon. It was based on his great-grandfather, for whom he was named. His great-grandfather served the Union in the Civil War. In the Battle of New Market (Virginia) in 1864, he was wounded. The wound would eventfully, in 1869, claim his life. Al had come across his great-grandfather’s diaries, which he described as an “eloquent Christian testimony.” Through great research and his writing, Al sought “to give meat and marrow to the ancestor none of us will ever know in this life.”
Thankfully, many of us had the pleasure of knowing Al. Hopefully, Al’s testimony will continue to move people to seek out the peace offered to those who follow Jesus Christ, just as he found such a peaceful message in his great granddaddy’s diaries, in the writings of Chuck Colson, and in his wife’s gentle Christian piety.
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
Romans 6:2-11
February 26, 2017
My intention for this Sunday is to focus on the Christian Funeral and to use worship as a way to help us be mindful of our actions surrounding death. Funeral rites are ancient and predate Christianity and even Judaism. These rites developed because there’s a lifeless body and we have to do something with it. We can’t just leave it. That body represents someone who lived, loved and laughed, someone whom we loved and cared for, which is why there is a human need to show dignity. So rites began to develop as to how the body was to be handled and taken to a place where it could be received back into the earth, and so that the living could then go back to their lives.
These rites are often described as the final journey of the deceased. Such rites are not limited to those of us in the Christian Faith. The Egyptian “Books of the Dead” were written to guide the deceased into the place of the dead. There is a wonderful Chinese film, titled “The Road Home,” which is about a beloved teacher who dies in modern China and the importance his wife placed on having the men of the village bring his body to the burial. The film shows the rites of a funeral in the Confucius tradition.
In our Old Testament reading earlier, we learn that the Hebrew people not only took care to bury their leaders, but as they left Egypt and wandered for forty years in the wilderness, they carried with them the bones of Joseph. It was important that his wishes to be buried in the Promised Land be fulfilled.[1]
Christian theology around death also centers on a journey as we take the body to its final resting place. This journey uniquely ties our baptism to the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. Accompany Them with Singing is the title of what may be the best study on the Christian funeral. And that’s what we’re to do, for our songs often best express our theology. And funeral hymns don’t have to be downers. “Oh When the Saints Go Marching In,” which we’ll sing in closing, have been sung at many funerals as it expresses the joy of our ultimate hope.
I’ve spoken before of my Great-Grandma McKenzie’s death when I just a kid. She died the summer between my first and second year in school. On the day of her funeral, we gathered in church with the casket front and center. When the service concluded, the pall bearers gathered around the casket and took it out into the graveyard adjacent to the church. The preacher led the way. We all followed. There, at the graveside, the preacher concluded the service, commending my great grandma to God, as the casket was placed into the ground. Afterwards, we gathered in the hall for fried chicken, potato salad and deviled eggs, as people offered the condolences. There is a movement that occurred in this service that sadly is often lost. However, such rites remind us of the importance of the person who embodied the corpse. We honor them, and then we place them in God’s hands as we gather as a community to grieve and to get on with life, knowing our own are also numbered.
Recently, it seems, we have had too much experience with death here at Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church. I know I am weary of conducting funerals and memorial services, which makes this a more difficult sermon than I was thinking it would be. In a manner, I don’t want to talk any more on the topic, yet death is something we will all face unless Christ comes while we are still living. So death, how we die, and how we care for the deceased are important topics. As Paul writes, “If we live, we live to the Lord, and if we die, we die to the Lord; so then, whether we live or whether we die, we are the Lord’s.”[2] Following in this vein is one of the standard prayers used in services at the time of death:
Help us to live as those prepared to die.
And when our days here are ended,
Enable us to die as those who go forth to live,
So that living or dying,
Our life may be in Jesus Christ our risen Lord. Amen. [3]
I am going to change my passage from what you find in the bulletin today. I want us to look at the sixth chapter of Paul’s letter to the Romans, verses 1 to 11 (page 156 in your pew Bibles). Here, Paul is speaking of sanctification as he addresses an objection to justification by faith which he introduced in the fifth chapter. Read Romans 6:2-11.
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Paul is afraid that some who are reading his letter might misunderstand by what he means by justification by faith and believe that the more they sin the greater the grace they’ll receive from God. Certainly, such thinking doesn’t demonstrate a new life in Christ, a life reflecting Jesus’ face to the world and bringing glory to the Father. Paul wants his readers to understand that they are now to live a new life, one that is bound up in the life, death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. The first sentence is a rhetorical question: “shall we continue to sin so that grace may abound?” “No, absolutely not,” Paul insists using his strongest language. For we have been baptized into Christ, into his death, so that we might live a new life with him.
Parts of this passage is often read at funerals and memorial services. There, instead of focusing on how Paul refutes those who mistakenly believe they can now do anything they want, at the time of death we center in on the promises Paul lifts up. Our sin, our sinful self, having died with Christ in baptism, frees us to enjoy everlasting life with Christ in whose resurrection we too will share. This is a hopeful passage for believers. We’re not saved by our doing, but by what Jesus—through his death and resurrection—has done for us.
Think for a minute of the similarities of baptism and death as seen best in a baptism by immersion. One is submerged under water, in a place void of air. We can’t live there. If the preacher holds you down too long, you’d be in trouble. The symbolism is powerful, for we are reminded of Jesus’ atoning death and how, at some point in the future, we too will die. But having already publically linked our death with Christ’s, in baptism, Paul promises that we will also be linked to his resurrection and will inherit eternal life. Paul goes on to talk about how, in this transformation, our old life, the sinful life, has passed. Now this does not mean that once someone is baptized they are automatically sinless. After all, Paul begins this chapter encouraging people not to continue with their sinful ways. Paul’s not encouraging us to achieve the impossible-a sinless life. Karl Barth, the great theologian of the mid-20th Century, joked about how he’d hoped to drown the old self in the waters of baptism, but how he discovered the rascal is good at swimming.[4]
Although we are to strive to do be good and to avoid sin, we are ultimately saved not because of our actions, but of God’s action in Jesus Christ. That’s the good news, that’s where our hope lies. And when we experience this good news, we should want to do what we can to learn about who we are to be in Christ Jesus. Accepting Christ isn’t the end of the matter, it’s the beginning as you strive to grow in Christ. This process of sanctification, which Paul is writing about, is life-long. We don’t get to retire. We continue on till our death.
And now I want to return to the topic of death. It is a topic we don’t like to deal with. Today, things are designed to shield us from it. A few generations ago, most people died in their homes. That still happens, as we don’t know the day or the hour, BUT most people die in hospitals or skilled nursing care facilities. We are shielded from death. A few generations ago, relatives or friends would build the casket. Today, we pick out store brought ones. The medical profession and the funeral industry have placed a veil over death, to keep its distance from us. Where it used to be up to the family or neighbors to “do something about the body,” we now have professionals to do that work. And that’s okay as long as we remember that we will all experience death. We can’t escape it. Death will come to friends and family and sooner or later to ourselves. Knowing this, we should be willing to walk by others who are approaching death as well as to plan for our own.
Now let me say a bit about the funeral or a memorial service. Are they important? Yes! I believe they are very important for at the time of death, we realize things have changed. Those who remain, do so without a loved one. The same goes for the church family. Our lives are diminished and we need to acknowledge that. The funeral or memorial service is to do three things, and all are important. First, the service is to honor and give God thanks for the life of the deceased. Next, the service gives us time to be with the grieving and to comfort them in their struggles. And finally, the service is a place in which we are reminded that our hope in life and death is in our faithful Savior Jesus Christ. In a few minutes, we’ll be reminded of this as we repeat the first question of the Heidelberg Catechism. With that in mind, what kind of testimony would you want at your service? Having faith in Christ allows us to live with a lot more freedom that those without such faith, for we know, as Paul proclaims, that whether we live or die, we belong to the Lord.
In case you didn’t know, our church maintains an Omega file. Omega isn’t just a fancy wristwatch, it’s the last letter in the Greek Alphabet, which is why in Revelation Jesus says three times: “I am the Alpha and the Omega.”[5] In English, that’s “I’m the A and the Z” or “I’m the whole alphabet.” The Omega file is a place for your last desires related to a funeral or memorial service are kept on file. There is a two sided sheet of paper (and you can attach more, if needed) that you fill out. This paper can be of a great help to the church and to your family at the time of death. It lets us know who needs to be contacted and your wishes for a service. Think of it this way, your funeral service might be your last chance to share what’s important about your faith to your family and friends. I hope you will take one of these sheets. Focusing on this now can be a great benefit to your family later. I would be glad to be of help, if needed. Just call or email me.
One final story. A few weeks ago I received a letter from First Presbyterian Church of Hickory, North Carolina. I had been a member of that church before seminary and they’d tracked me down and included within the letter was something from my “confidential file.” It was my equivalent of an “Omega file” entry I provided the church when I joined there in 1984. Looking over it, I realized it’s about time to update my file. Things have changed in my life, as I’m sure they have in yours. So even if you have an Omega file on hand, you might want to update yours. Amen.
©2017
[1] Genesis 50:24-26, Joshua, 24:32.
[2] Romans 14:8
[3] Presbyterian Church USA, Book of Common Worship, (Louisville, KY: Westminster/John Knox Press: 1993), 916.
[4] This quote is often attributed to Martin Luther, but no sources. Karl Barth, Church Dogmatics: The Doctrine of Reconciliation, Vol. 4, Part 1:3, Jesus is Victor. See http://beggarsallreformation.blogspot.com/2012/02/luther-or-barth-on-old-adam-swimming.html
[5] Revelation 1:8, 21:6 and 22:13.
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
Genesis 3
February 12, 2017
Maybe we should talk about apples today as we look at Genesis 3. As I teased you last week, this is where things began to go terribly wrong. Yet, there’s nothing better than biting into a cool crisp apple. The sound of the chomping and the taste of the fruit are both delightful. However, scripture doesn’t say that the fruit in the garden was an apple so how did we begin to interpret it that way? It all happened when the Bible was translated into Latin. The translators just couldn’t resist making a play on words, between apple and evil. The two words are similar in Latin. Obviously, we lose the humor in English, but we get to keep the apple.[1]
The third chapter of Genesis is often referred to as “The Fall.” It’s seen as a story of how sin gained a foothold in the world even though, interestingly, the word “sin” is never used in this chapter.[2] But that’s what happens. The two humans in our story disobey God. They are caught red-handed, with apple juice trickling down their chins. The fruit isn’t what’s important; it’s the act of disobedience.[3] Read Genesis 3.
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There is a scene in Mark Twain’s Huckleberry Finn, in which Huck has staged his own murder and then slips back into town to learn what people are thinking. Since he’s supposed to be dead, he can’t just stroll back into town, so he dresses as a girl. He stops by a woman’s house to get the scoop on what’s being said. He learns there’s a reward out for Jim, the runaway slave, who people think may have committed the assumed murder. But the woman isn’t completely convinced by Huck’s cross-dressing and she asks him to thread a needle. After all, her eyes are getting bad. The thread might as well been a camel. Huck has the hardest time getting it through the eye of the needle. Then the woman complains about rats in her house. Always helpful, Huck takes a lump of lead and when the rat appears, he hauls back and throws the lead at the rodent. The rat ducks into the hole in the nick of time and Huck, as a girl, brags, “He’d be a tolerably sick rat had he stayed where he was.” Huck’s secret is out of the bag. The woman knows he’s a boy. Huck has to make up another story.[4]
As human beings, we often try to be something we’re not. That’s how Huck was discovered. He couldn’t thread a needle nor did he throw like a girl. When we try to be something we’re not, we generally make fools out of ourselves. That’s what happened in the Garden of Eden. The fruit looked so tasty. And the first couple wanted to be like God, something they were not designed to be. So they ignore the limitations place by the Creator, and disobey by eating the fruit. Then they realize they are naked.
The third chapter of Genesis opens with a serpent, a snake. We’re not told here that he’s evil, just that’s he’s crafty and sneaky. And the snake begins a conversation with woman. Dietrich Bonhoeffer actually suggests that the snake is the first theologian because he starts a conversation about God.[5] Obviously, he has a mistaken theology for he begins, seemingly innocent, asking if God had told them they could not eat of any of fruit from any of the trees. Of course, that’s not what God said. God only said that they could not eat from the tree of knowledge. The woman corrects the serpent, but then she goes further. According to the woman, they’re not to even touch it. Both the woman and the snake misrepresent the truth, setting the stage for the woman to succumb to doubt when the serpent tells her that if they eat of the fruit, they will not die. Instead, the crafty snake says, “Your eyes will be open and you’ll be like God.” According to Genesis 1:27, the woman and man and all humankind have been made in God’s image, but that’s not enough. The woman sees that the fruit appears so delicious, so she takes a bite and gives a bite to her husband. And sure enough, the snake is right, their eyes are opened and they see that they are naked. So they make fig leaf clothes, but even more telling, they hid from God. We’ve all been at this junction, when we sin and are then are ashamed.
Verse 8 provides one of the most idyllic descriptions of paradise. It’s evening, there is a breeze that rises and cools the garden. In the soft light of the waning day, we can image the man and the woman and God enjoying the fruits of their labors. For God had created, and the man and woman had tended the garden. But it’s a vision of what is no more, of our dream of paradise lost. For instead of joining with God, the couple hides and by this action their shames betrays them.
Next, we have an interesting conversation. God asks them what they’ve done. Instead of confession, they assign blame. The man blames the woman and the woman blames the snake. And haven’t we all done that? “No, it wasn’t me, it was her or him.” Not only do we sin, we compound our sinfulness by not taking responsibility for what we’ve done (or by claiming we’re been framed as a bumper sticker I recently saw said[6]). But the guilt of the man and the woman’s disobedience can’t be passed off to the other or to the serpent. Both, actually all—man, woman and snake—are guilty and all stand under judgment.
So God curses the serpent, which I’m going to skip and move on to where God lays out the consequences for the man and woman. Life is no longer going to be idyllic. We have to work and struggle and from now on our lives will consist of pain and heartache. Now, don’t get the wrong notion here. The curse isn’t that we’ll have to work. After all, when God put the man in the garden, he gave him a job.[7] God handed him a hoe and told him to chop the weeds. Work can be holy. The curse means that hard work won’t always pay off. As Israel found out, through a series of invasions, it’s possible to work hard and build a home and establish a wonderful vineyard, only to have someone else live in your house and feast upon your harvest. That’s what makes God’s promise, spoken through the prophets, is so appealing. “They shall not build and another inhabit; they shall not plant and another eat.”[8] We long for that pre-fall paradise, but we can’t return. We live our lives East of Eden.
But I want you to notice something in this passage. In verse 21, right after God lays out the consequences of their disobedience, and before God expels the man and woman from the garden, we have this touching image of the Almighty. God is a tailor! After giving the man and the woman a lecture that changes history, we can imagine God sitting down on a log in the garden and taking up a needle and thread and some skins, and fashioning clothes for the man and the woman. Yes, they are to be locked out the garden, with the cherubim and their flaming swords guarding the gates to assure the man and woman will not return. But they are not being sent out into world naked; they do not go out empty handed.
You know, God could have ended things right then and there. He could have hit the “reboot” button on creation and started all over, like we do when we have a glitch with one of our electronic contraptions. But God doesn’t. The fashioning of clothes shows God’s love and concern for the human race, the pinnacle of his creation. That’s the good news. That’s what we have to trust!
When I was a kid, my mother once ordered a bunch of name tags that she could sew into our clothes. I think she must have gotten these from one of those companies that advertised in the magazine that appear in the Sunday editions of the newspaper. The names were imprinted on long strips of ribbon, over and over again, so all one had to do is snip off a section and sew it onto the garment. Mom got a set of ribbon for each of us kids. When I went off to camp for the first time, I was shocked (and embarrassed) to find in my underpants, sewed onto the waistband, a small tag that read “Jeffrey Garrison.” Unlike everyone else, my mother insisted on calling me Jeffrey. Years later, after I was in seminary and in my early 30s, I was visiting my parents for a few days and my mother did my laundry. When I got back to seminary, I realized she still had some of that name tape and had sewed my name into my clothes. I chuckled and this time wasn’t embarrassed as I realized that my mother was doing what she could for me. She knew I was out on my own, and wanted to do something to help me on my journey.
God, like a mother who sews for her departing children, prepares the first couple for their journey. There is an insight here that we should grasp. Although we can’t go back, for the garden is now sealed off, God is going to care for us. Providence is the doctrine that tries to explain this. God hasn’t just created us and set us loose to fend for ourselves. God cares deeply for us, so that even when we have sinned and are separated from Him, God takes the initiative to reach out to us.[9]
Although the man and woman are exiled from the garden, although they will no longer enjoy evening walks with Lord, although they are separated from the Creator; the Almighty, acting like a concerned parent, isn’t going to let sin have the final word. By expelling the couple from the garden, God protects his holiness. But even then, God cares for the couple and is already working out a way to reunite himself with his creation. The fulfillment of this comes in Jesus Christ, God incarnate, God with us. And he’ll come again, with the vision we have in Revelation, described in there as a wedding, as a marriage consummated in the new heaven and the new earth.[10]
But until then, we live in a new state. In a way, the man and the woman have become fully human. They can now make their own decisions and are responsible for their choices.[11] They are aware of their vulnerable position in creation and now have to live even more dependent upon God.
As I’ve said earlier, there is something about us that makes us long for that which we know is lost. According to Augustine, the great theologian of the early church, God created us this way. God wants us to praise him and have made our hearts restless until they rest in him.[12] So we dream for that which we have lost, even though we can’t go back. Yet we can hold on to those memories and we should. They’re good memories. Thinking of God as a tailor remind us that we’re cherished and loved, which should also give us a vision for moving forward toward that day when God will make all things new through Jesus Christ, the day we’ll be reunited with our Father in Heaven.
We go forward, knowing that we should be honest with God and confess our sins. We go forward, knowing that God wants what is best for us. We go forward, longing for Jesus to return, yet making the best out of each day as we share the joy we have with others. Amen.
©2017
[1] In Latin, evil and apple are “malum.” Donald Gowan, Genesis 1-11: From Eden to Babel (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1988), 55.
[2] William P. Brown, Sacred Sense: Discovering the Wonder of God’s Word and World, (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2015), 40.
[3] Gowan, 55.
[4] Mark Twain (Samuel Clemens), The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, Chapter 11.
[5] Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Creation and Fall, as quoted by Brown, 36.
[6] The bumper sticker (show on a slide) said “Eve Was Framed.”
[7] Genesis 2:15.
[8] Isaiah 65:22. See also Isaiah 62:8 and Jeremiah 31:5.
[9] See the Heidelberg Catechism, Question 27, The Second Helvetic Confession, Chapter VI, and The Westminster Larger Catechism, Questions 20 and 30.
[10] Revelation 21
[11] Brown 38.
[12] Augustine, The Confessions 1.1
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
Genesis 2:4b-25
February 5, 2017
This past Wednesday, as I was coming back from a worship conference at Calvin College on the train, I had an afternoon layover in Washington D.C. Union Station in Washington is just northwest of the Capitol. With several hours to kill, I walked down to the capitol and down the mall to the National Gallery of Art. I hadn’t been there since a child. Walking through the gallery, I came into a room with four large paintings by Thomas Cole, who is considered a founder of the Hudson River School of Art. I knew of this work, which is titled “The Voyage of Life,” but had never seen them except for in a book. The four large paintings represents Cole’s vision of our journey through life, from infancy and childhood through old age.
In the first painting, titled childhood, a small child emerges from a womb-like cavern in a boat steered by an angel. The sun is just about to rise over the horizon. The painting shows the promise of a new day.
In the second, titled “Youth”, the child is older and is able to take the helm and guide the boat. He’s like one of our Boy Scouts, having earned his rowing merit badge. He’s able to take control of his life and there is a castle in the sky reminding us of how large our dreams can be during our youth. The angel is present; however, she’s moved to the bank, to guide and watch over the young man.
In the third painting, the colors darken and storms rage. It is titled “Manhood.” The man in the boat has lost his rudder and is approaching roaring rapids, and in the distance is the sea. He prays. There is still an angel in the painting, but it’s up in the sky, far away. This dark view of adult life may have come from Cole’s on life, for he died young, in his forties.
The final painting, titled “Old Age”, has the boat out on the sea as the sun sets. The man is older and an angel is beckoning him to come. His time is over and all is calm. As I looked at the paintings, which I really like and I was glad to be able to spend some time with the originals,[1] I realized that Cole had missed something important. He certainly tried to capture the idea that our journey through life, even with the trials we endure, is guided by divine providence as represented by the angels. But the man is alone, the whole time he’s the only one in the boat. And that’s not how God designed things, as we’re going to see in our text for today. God creates us to be in relationship, in community, with him and with one another.[2] Read Genesis 2:4b-25:
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In my last two sermons, we looked that the first account of creation as presented in Genesis 1. There we have an overview of creation from outside of the cosmos. It’s as if we’re on the space station looking down on earth. As I suggested in those sermons, we must not get caught up on trying to reconcile the Biblical creation accounts with science. Instead, these stories in Genesis have a much deeper meaning about who we are and how we relate to God and to God’s creation. Today, instead of a top down look at creation, we have a more intimate view of God at work and learn more of our destiny upon the earth God created.
According to Genesis 2, the world before Adam was lonely. No plants, no shrubs, no grass, no animals, and most importantly no people running around… Listen, as I read from a sermon James Weldon Johnson recalled given by an African-American preacher around the turn of the century
Then God sat down-
On the side of a hill where he could think;
By a deep wide river he sat down:
With his head in his hands,
God thought and thought,
Till he thought: “I’ll make me a man!
Up from the bed of the river
God scooped the clay;
And by the bank of the river
he kneeled him down;
And there the great God Almighty
Who lit the sun and fixed it in the sky,
Who flung the stars to the most far corner of the night,
Who rounded the earth in the middle of his hand;
This great God,
Like a mammy bending over her baby,
Kneeled down in the dust
Toiling over a lump of clay
Till he shaped it in his own image;
Then into it he blew the breath of life,
And man became a living soul.[3]
Of course God does not stop with the creation of a person. God creates a garden. Imagine the garden, with its walls to protect it, with its trees for shade and flowers for beauty, with its vegetables and fruits for food. In this garden named Eden, God places the person just created. After-all, God needs a caretaker for the garden, someone to till and keep it, someone to harvest and eat of its abundance. Everything in the garden is given to him to eat, with one exception… We’ll talk about that exception in next week’s sermon. So stay tune!
God then realizes that the man is alone, that he needs a helper, a companion. God doesn’t create us to be hermits, to be isolated from himself or from others, as Thomas Cole’s paintings suggest. So God’s begins to create animals and brings them to the man to name. In scripture, the ability to name implies power, so we see this first human exercising dominion over creation. But it’s all a divine joke, because of all the animals that come forth, none are worthy to be the man’s only companion. Certainly God knows that none of these animals will suffice, but this is a story with a much deeper meaning.[4] So from the man, God creates a woman, Eve. Finally, the man has a suitable companion, and the two of them can tend the garden and live before God.
Walter Bruggerman, a well-known Old Testament scholar, notes that this passage is about how human beings are to live before God. According to him, there are three key concepts in here: vocation, permission, and prohibition.[5] We’ll focus on the prohibition next week.
Let’s look at the other two concepts: vocation and permission… At the beginning, the earth must have been pretty boring without plants and herbs. The reason given for this bareness in verse five is two-fold: God has not yet sent rain and there is no one to till the ground. So God creates Adam and then creates a well-watered garden where he places the man. The need for a caretaker is now achieved. There is someone to care for the plants and trees that have appeared on earth. And Adam, the care-taker is no longer alone.
There is a mutuality expressed here: God provides for us, yet we are also needed to fulfill God’s plans. Work is not something bad or something we should try to avoid. Work is good; it is sanctified; God ordains it. After the first human being has a task to perform, God rewards him by providing food for his nourishment. God creates and provides!
Secondly, there is permission to eat of the bounty of the garden. The first couple are not to toil just for God, they are able to raise their own food and enjoy the benefits of creation.
This passage shows us the way to live in God’s world. We have responsibilities, we have privileges, and we’re not alone. We are to live in community.
What does all this mean for you and me today? First, we are entrusted with God’s creation. Our scouts take an oath to be faithful in their duty toward God and part of that involves living responsibility in the manner God has created us. We are placed on earth for a purpose? We are to live with one another and take care of God’s earth! At Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church, we talk about reflecting the face of Jesus to the world. What will you do this week to make a positive difference in our world? What can you do to foster community, to build bridges with others, to show Jesus’ face? Unlike Adam, we may not be called to till the land, but we are called to work for a better world, which is how we fulfill our purpose within God’s creation. Amen.
©2017
[1] Cole actually painted two sets of these scenes. When the family that owned the first refused to allow them to be shown, he painted the second set from memory. The second set is the one at the National Gallery. The first set is in a gallery in Utica, NY.
[2] For a study in of these paintings see Thomas R. Cole, he Journey of Life: A Culture History of Aging in America (Cambridge University Press, 1992), 118-126.
[3]James Weldon Johnson, “The Creation,” in God’s Trombones: Seven Negro Sermons in Verse, (New York: Viking, 1976), 19-20.
[4] Donald E. Gowan, Genesis 1-11: From Eden to Babel (Grand Rapides: Eerdmans, 1988), 45-47.
[5] Walter Bruggemann, Genesis: Interpretation: a Biblical Commentary for Teaching and Preaching (Atlanta: John Knox Press, 1981), 46.
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
January 15, 2017
Genesis 1:24-2:4
If you haven’t yet attended any of the Calvin January Series lectures,[1] I encourage you to do so. You don’t have to travel to Calvin College, for they are shown in Liston Hall, weekdays through January 24 at 12:30 PM. We have been blessed with many good talks on such a variety of subjects. This past Wednesday, the presenter was Gary Haugen, founder of the International Justice Mission, which is devoted to ending slavery in the world today. He began discussing how God could do everything himself, but chooses to use people to bring about his purposes in the world. He coined a term, “The Dignity of Responsibility.” I like that, “the dignity of responsibility.” He went on to point out how blessed the people of God are to have been given such a role to play in the world. That dignity of responsibility begins with our passage today, where God creates humanity in his own image.
Thursday’s speakers were two lifelong friends, Justin and Patrick, who together did 500 miles trek of the Camino de Santiago between French and Spain. Lots of people have done this pilgrimage—thousands every year—but what made their journey special is that Justin had developed a paralyzing disease similar to ALS. He has no movement in his lower body and limited upper body movement. So his friend Patrick said, “I’ll push you.” He, along with friends along the way, helped push and pull Justin’s wheelchair along the path. Justin spoke of how hard it is to let other people help you; however, he’s dependent on such help. “When you deny someone the opportunity to help, you deny them the joy of life,” Patrick said. Maybe that’s an insight into why God created us. Sure, God could do it all, but has given us the dignity of responsibility, the joy of helping and of being helped.
Read Genesis 1:24-2:4
###
Last week we looked at the first six and a half days of creation, but I stopped reading right before the creation of humanity. We could be tempted to say that God saved the best for last and that the creation of a man and woman took so much out of God that a break was required. As humorous as it may sound, and I was trying to be funny, my joke misses the point. Let’s consider a few things from this passage. Although we are still creatures like the cows and other beasts, there are differences. First of all, God summons all of heaven, the heavenly court, to create humankind. Let us make humankind.” Who is the “Us”? Some argue it’s the royal we, others that it’s the persons of the Trinity, but there is little support in scripture for such interpretations. Instead, in the Hebrew Scriptures, there is references to the heavenly hosts, such as when Isaiah has his great vision.[2] Unlike other acts of creation, when God speaks and creates or when God orders the earth to bring forth life and it does, in the creation of humankind, more effort is put into the act with the calling upon the heavenly hosts.
Secondly, we are created in God’s image. No other beast gets this distinction; however such language was spoken in the ancient world. It was limited to just a few. Egypt’s Pharaohs were seen as being in the image of god as were kings in Babylon and earlier in Assyria. As I mentioned last week, this text, the creation story, was probably written down in its final form in Babylon and it is a text that upsets the Babylonian world view. The Hebrew people had a choice. If they accepted the world view of the Babylonians, their God appears lame and helpless. But this story undermines the violent creation myths of the Babylonians, giving the Hebrew people a reason to place their faith in the Almighty. God is all-powerful but cares for us enough to endow us with his image.[3]
Another interesting thing in our creation in the image of God is that it’s collectively given to humanity. It takes both sexes, for God created humanity as male and female.[4] You can’t exclude one or the other and still have God’s image. There is something powerful about this communal sharing of God’s image—for if we take this seriously, we have to admit that God’s image isn’t just in us and folks like us but in all people. The notion that all people, friend or foe, is endowed with God’s image should result in an ethic that honors everyone. Of course, we know that’s not always how we relate to one another, but if we did, wouldn’t the world be a much better place? For when I say or do something that denigrates another human being, it’s as if I’m slapping God in the face. Think about that, would we abuse God? No, we wouldn’t. But what about abusing a person made it God’s image? This fact should cause us to hold our tongue more often and to treat people, all people, with respect.
A third essential part of our creation is that we are given dominion over the earth. There have been those who have suggested that this idea of dominion is the root of our ecological crisis.[5] The problem with this view is how we interpret the word, “Dominion.” If we see such a word as meaning that we have unlimited rights to do what we please, then we can wreck all kinds of chaos on the world. But that’s not suggested in the text. In verses 29-30, we’re told that God gives all living beings, the human and the animal, plants for food. What’s implied (other than the fact that in Genesis 1, all creatures were vegetarians) is that we’re to share this earth and this food, not to hoard or misuse it.[6]
Another way of looking at “dominion” is through how kings of conquered territory were given “dominion” over a particular section of land. Herod was a king and he yielded quite a bit of power in Palestine, but his power was also limited for he ruled under and for the benefit of Caesar in Rome. Our position, the human position, of power within creation is similar. We’re to have dominion over the earth but we are responsible to God. We enjoy our position thanks to the God and for God’s benefit, just as Herod had to serve under the shadow of Caesar Augustus. God doesn’t give us the earth to do as we please; instead, we are allowed to enjoy the benefits of the earth during our lives, but the earth always belongs to God.[7]
We can also look at dominion through the eyes of a shepherd who watches over the animals in his care. In this way, we participate in caring for the world as God cares for us, as seen in Psalm 23, where the Lord is portrayed as shepherd. Or, we look at Jesus, the “Good Shepherd.”[8] If you consider dominion in this way, it is not nearly as harsh of a view of how we relate to the world as some have made it out to be.
There is a fourth and final point that I want to make about the creation of humanity. In the other parts of creation, God stands backs and observes, like a master craftsman making a final check of a piece of furniture before signing his name on the piece. And then God pronounces his work as good. God blesses humanity, but God does not step back and look us over and see that we’re good. God does step back at the end of creation and pronounces it all good,[9] but doesn’t do that for humanity as was done for other aspects of creation. I think this may have to do with us having been created with the ability to create, needing to show that we use our creative ability for the good. So much of what we do can be done for good or bad. We can create energy to provide electricity and to cure cancer by splitting an atom, but that same knowledge can help us destroy cities and kill vast numbers of people. Or, to use the prophet’s language, a piece of metal can be forged into swords or plowshares.[10] The question we must wrestle with is “Do we use our God-given abilities for good or bad?”
After God created people and had sustained his creation, animals and people, with food, God hollows rest. There is a cycle throughout creation that provides for rest (we rest in the night and then go out and work in the day) but then the seventh day is set aside as holy. Throughout creation, God has blessed that which he has brought into being. Now a specific time is blessed, the seventh day which will become the Sabbath, a time to cease from work and rest and enjoy the benefits of our labor.
As I emphasized last week, the creation stories we have in Genesis 1 and 2 are not scientific accounts. They are both theological accounts. They don’t tell us exactly how God brought creation into being, but they tell us a greater “Truth,” in how God created and cares for the world. In the first creation story, we are given a picture of God standing outside of creation, but involved bringing it about. God creates a world and all that is in it. And we’re created and given a special place in this world. Yet, we are not to abuse our power. We are to use it to glorify and to give thanks to God who created us and who continues to love us, a God who created us to participate with him in Creation, by giving us the dignity of responsibility.
Do we accept the dignity of responsibility that God has given you? If so, how do we participate with God in bringing about his purposes? Amen.
©2017
[1] http://calvin.edu/january-series/speakers/
[2] Isaiah 6:8. See also 1 Kings 22:19-22 and Job 1:6ff. See Donald E. Gowan, Genesis 1-11: From Eden to Babel (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1988), 27-28; Gerhard Von Rad, Genesis (Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1972), 60.
[3] Von Rad, 58.
[4] Gowan, 29. William P. Brown, Sacred Sense: Discovering the Wonder of God’s Word and World (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2015), 27.
[5] Lynn Townsend White, Jr. “The Historical Roots of our Ecologic Crisis” Science (1967). See Gowan, 50 and Walter Brueggemann, Genesis: Interpretation, A Bible Commentary for Teaching and Preaching, Atlanta: John Knox Press, 1982), 32f.
[6] Brown, 25.
[7] Psalm 24.1.
[8] Brueggemann, 32.
[9] Genesis 1:31.
[10] Isaiah 2:4.
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
January 8, 2017
Genesis 1:1-25
This past Tuesday night, I was camping in Mizell Prairie in the Okefenokee National Wildlife Refuge. There is little dry ground to camp on in the swamp, especially in the wet prairies, so you camp on platforms. It had rained hard that day, starting about 3 AM. In the afternoon, as we approached the campsite, the rain tailed off and the clouds were beginning to break up. I was hoping we’d have a spectacular sunset, for our location looked out over water and grass, with little to block our view. But I was disappointed. Thirty minutes or so before sunset, clouds filled in on the horizon and the sun slipped behind them.
We finished our dinner and was cleaning up, preparing for the night, when it all of a sudden it happened. It wasn’t a sunset, but the sky became pink and purple as the sun’s rays, from below the horizon, lighted the low clouds. In the mountains it’s called “Alpine Glow.” The color of the clouds reflected off the waters. We watched in awe as the light faded from the skies. After about ten minutes, the magic disappeared and soon the stars and a waxing new moon were visible.
We live in a marvelous world. I am starting a short series in which we’re going to look at the opening three chapters of scripture. These chapters, I believe, invite us to stand in awe before God the Creator. Today, we’re looking at the first part of Genesis 1. Let’s listen to this well-known passage of scripture as I read from The Message Translation.
###
I could probably spend all four Sundays of this series with this passage! It’s so rich; there is so much here for us to ponder, for us to dig into as we strive to understand God and our relationship to him. Instead, I am going to preach more of a brief homily on this passage as our time is short.
Genesis gives us two creation stories, but neither are to be understood as a scientific account as to what happened that led to this marvelous world in which we live. Instead, both accounts are theological. First and foremost, we learn that God is in charge, that this world in which we live out our lives belongs, not to us, but to the Creator. Although we may hold a deed to a “piece of the earth,” our claims are at best temporary. William Brown of Columbia Theological Seminary, in his book Sacred Sense, suggests that this chapter determines how the rest of scripture is to be understood. “Everything that follows is under the God who created ‘in the beginning.’”[1]
It is generally accepted by scholars that this passage was written down in its final form after 587 BC, after the temple in Jerusalem had been destroyed and the Hebrew people had been herded off into exile in Babylon. The Hebrew people had lost their homeland, their identity, and now they were in a new land where the people worshipped different gods and had different creation stories of their own. In Mesopotamian, the creation myth centered on the god Marduk, who slew the gods of chaos as he claimed his power over the universe. Marduk’s creation was violent; it was one of conquest. On the other hand, the Hebrew story has God creating by speech. There is no conflict, it is all orderly and done as God commands.[2]
We begin with all that is consisting of a chaotic void, a soup of nothingness that is brought to order when God speaks. On day one, God creates light. Light is associated with God, as we see in the opening of John’s gospel where Jesus is the light coming into the world.[3] God creates light and then separates light and darkness. To show God’s mastery over creation, the light he names day, and the darkness is named night. The ability to name implies power over something and this story of creation is showing God’s power over the universe.[4]
The first three days, God is preparing the world for what will come later in the week. Time is created in day one; the heavens and the earth in day two; the land and sea on day three. Although creation is now half done, there’s nothing to inhabit it.
Paralleling the first three days of creation are days four through six. On day four, the heavenly lights, are created. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to raise the question about light, which we think of as coming from the sun. But we learn that the true light comes from God. In fact, the sun and moon and stars are demoted to keepers of time. The text doesn’t even use the name “sun” or “moon.” In the ancient Near East, religion was steeped with astrology and these heavenly disks and dots of stars were seen as a way of understanding what was to happen. The sun was often worshipped. But the Hebrews debunked any powers associated to these bodies.[5] The sun wasn’t to be worshipped and the stars wasn’t to be seen as a source of knowledge about the future, for as Jesus says, that’s in God’s hands.[6] Throughout the Old and New Testaments we are warned against predicting the future and reminded that it’s all in God’s hands. Isaiah tells us that God makes fools of those who attempt such feats.[7] The world and the future is under God’s control.
On days five and six, the earth is populated with animals that fills up the lands and the sea and the sky. At the end of day six, which we’ll look at next week, human beings are created. As each act of creation is completed, it’s as if God is a craftsman who steps back to get a good view of his creation, and then proclaims it good. Interestingly, God doesn’t declare that creation is perfect, only good, perhaps because creation is ongoing. But it’s still under God’s control.
This passage is written in a sterile, straight-forth manner, with mathematic precision. Seven days, eight acts, ten commands. The word “earth” or “land” appears twenty-one times while the word God appears thirty-five times, both multiples of seven.[8] Seven, of course, represents holiness and this passage invites us to wonder in amazement at God’s creation, which is good and surrounds us. We are to be in awe of the variety of plants and animals, birds and fish. And if we contemplate for just a minute on how amazing all this works—from the planets spinning around the sun to the incredible ways our bodies are knit together, we should be amazed and humbled, grateful and thankful. We worship an incredible God, and what is really amazing is that God thinks we’re special, as we’ll see next week. Amen.
©2017
[1] William P. Brown Sacred Sense: Discovering the Wonder of God’s Word and World, (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2015), 16.
[2] Brown, 17.
[3] John 1:4-5, 8:12
[4] Donald E. Gowan, Genesis 1-11: From Eden to Babel (Grand Rapids: Eerdamns,1988), 22.
[5] Gerhard Von Rad, Genesis (1972, Philadelphia: Westminster,1973), 55-56.
[6] Matthew 24:36
[7] Isaiah 44:25. See also Deuteronomy 4:19 and Colossians 2:8-10.
[8] Brown, 15.
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
December 24, 2016
Isaiah 9:2-7
This evening, I’m basing my homily on a well-known passage from Isaiah, one that is often read during the Christmas season. The opening 2/3 of the book of Isaiah is pretty much doom and gloom, but within the prophetic judgment are a few kernels of hope. This is one of those and, as we’ve just past the winter solstice with the longest night of the year, it’s good to be reminded that darkness never has the final word. Read Isaiah 9:2-7.
###
Our dog, Trisket, will be seventeen years old in February. He’s a wonderful dog: loyal, sweet and kind. It’s sad to know he won’t be with us much longer. In dog years, his age is far beyond what any of us will hope to make—somewhere just shy of 119. Over all, he’s aged gracefully, but in the last year there have been more dramatic changes. He wears diapers and doesn’t hear very well. He’s lost most of his sight and stumbles around, not seeing chairs and tables. He runs into door frames. He can still see light and he’s drawn by it, which has led him many times into the glass panels that frame the front door.
When you are blind or are in darkness, it’s like that. You stumble around. Without vision, there is no comprehension of what’s out there, what’s around you. It’s all about what’s with the next step or within our reach. You walk slower and try to avoid running into things. It can be scary. We become confused and find ourselves lost. We’re become anxious and apprehensive. And that’s the situation Isaiah addresses in this oracle. People walking in darkness, living in a land of absent of light. It’s frightening, but Isaiah offers hope. There is a promise of light filling the land. The light brings joy, there is a renewed confidence. As with the breaking of dawn, things are changing.
We take light for granted. We flip the switch and like magic, light appears. And we are troubled in times such as after Hurricane Matthew when neighborhoods were in darkness for days and nights. Candles and flashlights just don’t do it for us anymore. Especially now, at the time of the year when the nights are at their longest. Yet, despite the easy availability of light, we still suffer from depression and want. The metaphor of darkness still applies to us as we worry about the present and fret over the future. We need to hear and experience Isaiah’s words again.
This passage of Isaiah, probably originally written for the birth of one of Jerusalem’s kings, offers hope to a people oppressed. As a nation, Israel and Judah stood at the crossroads of mighty nations. In world affairs, they were a pawn, standing in the middle of a chessboard, with the powers of the Fertile Crescent on each side. The dark pieces of the chessboard could have been Egypt and the white pieces could have represent a variety of nations (Assyria, Babylon and Persia) depending on the era of history. Sitting in this crucible, Israel was always insecure. But at the time of a new king there would be hope that alien rule would come to an end and their enemies would be defeated as the new king restores the prominence of Israel to what it had been under David.
In verse 4, Isaiah recalls the victories of Gideon at Midian, where he led the Israelites into battle. Over 32,000 Israelite men responded to the call to arms to save their nation, but God had Gideon whittle down the number of soldiers. In the end, he kept a force of only 300 who slipped into the Midianite and their allies, the Amalekites, camp and routed them. With just a handful of men, but more importantly with God’s help, they were victorious over a much larger army. The promises in our passage all link to God working to end their oppression as God had done in the days of Gideon. This leads to verse 6, which is perhaps the most hopeful verse in scripture, where Isaiah’s oracle announces the birth of a child. But sadly, no such king was born during Isaiah’s era.
The early church quickly realized how this passage applied to Jesus, whose birth we celebrate tonight. Jesus came in humility, yet had the authority of God, was God with us, and offers us a new way of enjoying peace. Of course, his reign hasn’t been fully realized and there are still those who oppose him, but his victory over evil and death has been won on the cross and it’s only a matter of time. For as we celebrate his birth, we also long for his return and the everlasting kingdom.
On these cool winter evenings, I love walking from our house down to the Delegal marina. On a number of lagoons, people have decorated small trees with lights that shine in the darkness and reflect off the water. I often stop and look and am amazed. Even in the darkness of winter, light is shining in the world.
There is a legend that one winter, the great church reformer, Martin Luther was walking in the woods at night. There was a cedar tree frosted with snow on a hill above. As he looked up at this sight, he could see the stars flickering behind and through the branches of the tree. He was so moved that he had a tree cut down and brought inside his home and decorated it with lights as a way to recapture the glory he’d witnessed. This season, I hope you can capture that same glory when you look at the lights all around us and be reminded of the hope we have in Jesus Christ, whose birth we celebrate this evening. For in Jesus Christ, born of Mary, God came into our world and lived among us, showing us how to live, and reminding us that we’re not alone. We should no longer live in the fear of the darkness, for unto us a child has been born…. Amen.
©2016
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
December 18, 2016
John 14:25-31
My grandmother created this needlepoint of Jesus as the Good Shepherd in the early 1930s. She was in high school. Money was tight and she used an old flour sack for the cloth backing. Grandma framed this piece and for over a half century it hung over her bed. I imagine her looking at it during her dark hours: when she lost a daughter to leukemia, as her first husband (my grandfather) struggled to breathe with emphysema, and as her second husband slipped into Alzheimer’s. By her death, all her friends had died. But my grandmother trusted Jesus. I like to think of how this artwork reminded her of his presence. A few years ago, when I was helping her move into an assisted living facility, she gave me the needlepoint. Today, it hangs in the foyer of our home. The image of Jesus as the good shepherd is comforting, for the shepherd’s role was to be a presence with and comfort for the sheep. On their own, the sheep were in danger, but with the shepherd watching over them, they could live in peace and without fear.
This is the fourth Sunday of Advent, and as I have done during this season, we’re looking at the reasons God, in Jesus Christ, came to earth. I’m using passages from John’s gospel and today, the theme is peace. Jesus came that we might have peace. Sometimes peace seems to be allusive, but is it? Read John 14:25-31. (Read John 14:27 again)
###
Christmas can’t be Christmas without a reading of the story of Jesus’ birth in Luke’s gospel. It’s heartwarming. We can imagine being with those cold shepherds out on the hills surrounding Bethlehem, surprised by the angels song, “Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace among those whom he favors.”[1] Yet, as the angels sang of peace, the world lived with a false sense of peace, enforced brutally by the legions of the Roman Army. As we learn in Matthew’s gospel, it would be just a matter of time before the frightened powers of the world set out to protect themselves by killing off children in an attempt to destroy a king who whose reign was a threat.[2]
The shepherds and the people of Israel longed for peace back then, as do we, 2000 years later. Just last week a Coptic Christian Cathedral in Cairo was firebombed, and in the city of Aleppo, innocent children are still dying. In our own country, domestic violence is a problem and then there are all the shootings in our own city. At times, peace on earth sounds just too good to be true. Yet, when you think about it, most of our lives are pretty peaceful. But even when they are not, Jesus can help us experience peace.
Peace is what Jesus gives to the disciples and to the church. In the Gospel of John, peace along with love are signs that we are followers of Jesus.[3] But it’s often overlooked. Instead of being at peace, we are frightful (even when things are going well). We run around at a hectic pace because we think everything depends on us—and I know I’m guilty of this as are many of you. But Jesus breathes out peace upon us. We might not be able to solve all the world’s problems and that’s okay because we should be filled with a peace that is unlike anything the world has to offer.
Furthermore, our salvation is grounded not in what we do to save the world, but in the grace of God through Jesus Christ which is why we can be at peace when the world is in turmoil. We know where we’re going; we know the ending to the story in which we live. When we trust in Jesus and live in his grace, we can be at peace.
The verse that I am focusing on this morning, verse 27, suggests that the peace Jesus offers will lighten our hearts and keep us from being afraid. Yet, we live in fear all the time. We’re constantly being told why we should be afraid because the people who sell the news knows that nothing sells like fear. Our children fear being unpopular and out of fear buy certain brands of clothes (and we continue this behavior into adulthood only the items become more expensive). Candidates, as we heard all too frequently from both sides in our past election, scare us into not voting for the other candidate. Way too little is said about what they’d do. Fear motivates us more readily than a positive message.
In a recent article in the Rolling Stones, “Why We’re Living in the Age of Fear,” Neil Strauss writes about how in most categories we’re living in good times. “Around the globe, household wealth, longevity and education are on the rise, while violent crime and extreme poverty are down.” Our air is cleaner than in the past and since 1991, despite a rise in terrorism, violent crime has been trending downward. 2015 was labeled by The Atlantic as the “best year in history for the average human being.” Yet we are living “in the most fearmongering time in human history.”[4]
You know, it’s interesting how thousands of preachers throughout history have used the fear of hell as a way to encouraging conversion. Yet, Jesus, who spoke of hell, never used the fear of eternal burning as a way to make converts. A recent article by John Piper was titled, “‘Trust Me or I will Hurt You:’ Does God Scare us into Saving Faith?” He concludes that God doesn’t operate in such a fashion. Scaring one into action is the way of “an abusive husband or peevish potentate.” Such tactics “obscure the truth that God acts out of fullness for our good, not out of need for our affirmation…” We glorify God by “enjoying him as the supreme treasure of the universe.” Our hearts overflow with joy and love, “a spontaneous response to the glory of [God’s] immeasurable perfections.” Our response cannot be coerced.[5]
Dale Bruner, writing on this passage, notes that “our relationship with Jesus is grounded in his grace, not on our obedience. This should give us considerable Shalom (or peace).[6] Of course, Jesus’ peace is not like the peace offered by the world. The world promises us much and often fails to deliver. It’s the peace of shaky political allegiances, not the steadfastness of God.[7] The peace the world promises is an absence of violence or war, but Jesus’ gives us (the church) the means of peace by sending us the Holy Spirit.[8]
Now this peace promised by Jesus won’t be fully realized in this life. That’ll have to wait till the kingdom has fully come. But we can enjoy the benefits in this life of knowing that our salvation and our long-term security is grounded in Jesus Christ. Such benefits means that we don’t have to worry or fret about the future. Jesus pronounces this peace upon the disciples as he is about ready to leave them and face the cross. It’s a parting gift, the assurance that despite evidence to the contrary, God is in control and working things out for our benefit.[9]
What does this peace look like? From the Hebrew tradition, the word Shalom addresses a state of well-being and also a reference to a state where justice is maintained. It implies that things are right in the world. In John’s gospel, the word connects to Jesus. Although John uses the word a number of times, he never fully explains it. But it’s linked to Jesus and at the end of John’s gospel, is tied to the forgiveness of sins.[10] If our sins are forgiven, and we don’t have to live in fear of God’s wrath, we should be open to enjoying the peace Jesus offers.
Our passage ends in an ominous tone. Jesus is leaving and the ruler of the world (Satan, who has entered Judas) is coming. The final showdown is about to occur. Jesus will be betrayed and crucified, but that’s all that the world can do to him. Love will beat out evil as Jesus will rise and will continue his work to save the world. For this, the disciples should be happy and rejoice. But first, they’ll be some dark days. Yet, despite the darkness, there is no reason for gloom or fear. They (and we) are to trust the Lord and to know, like sheep, that we are watched over by a good shepherd.
I know I have told you about the short story written by Ferrol Sams, an author from Georgia who recently died, who wrote about Joseph, a friend of his who was a Christian from Lebanon. Joseph traveled back to Lebanon during its civil war in order to see his family, especially his grandfather, who remained there. Sams tells about how he prayed regularly while his friend was gone, but he “did not worry for there is absolutely no logic whatever for a Christian doing both.”[11] I love that line. If you pray, there is no reason to worry. On this night in which Jesus prepares his disciples for the fulfilment of his coming, he wants them to breathe in his peace and not worry. When things are in God’s hands, we’ll be just fine.
Think about all those things you worry over, those things that upset your heart, which keep you up at night… It might be the state of the world, or the concern over a wayward child or grandchild. It might be a concern over your health or your finances, or getting your Christmas shopping done. You might be worried about our nation or the future of our planet. Many of our concerns are such that as individuals, we can’t do a lot about them. We do our best, then we should turn them over to God.
This Christmas season, as we contemplate Christ’s coming, evaluate yourself. Do you trust that God’s shoulders are large enough to take on all our burdens? Recall how Jesus calls to all who are weary and heavily burdened to come to him.[12] Do you believe that even though we walk through the valley of death, God is with us like a shepherd? If so, you will enjoy the peace Jesus’ promises, and this Christmas will be merry. Amen.
©2016
[1] Luke 2:14, NRSV.
[2] Matthew 2.
[3] Gerard Sloyan, John: Interpretation, A Biblical Commentary for Teaching and Preaching (Atlanta: John Knox Press, 1988) 184.
[4] Neil Strauss, “Why We Are Living in the Age of Fear,” Rolling Stone, October 16, 2016 (http://www.rollingstone.com/politics/features/why-were-living-in-the-age-of-fear-w443554).
[5] John Piper, “‘Trust Me or I will Hurt You:’ Does God Scare us into Saving Faith?” in desiringGod. http://www.desiringgod.org/articles/trust-me-or-i-will-hurt-you
[6] Fredrick Dale Bruner, The Gospel of John: A Commentary (Grand Rapids: Eerdman, 2012), 847.
[7] John W. Martens, “The Peace of Christ,” America, April 25, 2016 (http://www.americanmagazine.org/content/the-word/peace-christ) .
[8] Bruner, 847-848.
[9] See Raymond E. Brown, The Gospel According to John XIII-XXI (New York: Doubleday, 1970), 653.
[10] See John 20: 21-23. William Klassen, “Peace,” Anchor Bible Dictionary, vol. V, (New York: Doubleday, 1992), 209.
[11] Ferrol Sams, “Saba” in The Widow’s Mite and Other Stories (New York: Penguin Books, 1987), 121.
[12] Matthew 11:28
Grandma, 2008
I lost my grandmother this week. For a guy who’s been bald up top for longer than he’d like to remember, it was a blessing to have a grandmother for so long. I hope there is no prohibition against telling humorous stories about grandmothers, but I’m pretty sure she’d approve. When I was young and we’d visit, she’d force her youngest son, my Uncle Larry, to share his comic books. I would lie on the couch in the living room and read Archie, Dennis the Menace, Sad Sack, and when I was older, Mad Magazine. I’d laugh till I cried. Fifty years later, my grandmother could still recall my laugh.
We gathered yesterday at Fry & Prickett Funeral home in Carthage, North Carolina to say our goodbyes before going to the graveyard next to Culdee Presbyterian Church. I remember my first visit to that big old house with a wraparound porch that would look, if it hadn’t been recently painted, haunted. I was seven years old. My great-grandma McKenzie, my grandmother’s mother, had died. It was in the summer and the men of the family were mostly out on the porch smoking, as many were in the habit of doing back then. No one was smoking yesterday. Few do anymore, most of those who did are no longer with us. My grandmother could have been a poster child for an anti-smoking campaign as she was the only grandparent that I had who didn’t smoked, and she outlived the three others by forty or more years. 
But back to that first visit to the funeral home, when I was seven. My mother ushered us kids inside and into a dark room accented with heart-pine paneling. We went up to the casket. Everyone said my great-grandma looked natural, as if she was sleeping. She looked dead. Mom pointed out her hands, freckled with liver spots, and asked, rhetorically, how many apples she’d peeled? And how many pies she’d baked? Yesterday, I looked at my grandma’s hands, the liver spots having been cosmetically covered, and thought about her peeling peaches. She made the best peach ice cream.
From the time I was eleven until I started working at sixteen, I spent a couple weeks every summer with my grandparents. One evening, the summer between my seventh and eighth grade, I went with my grandparents to J. B. Cole’s orchard in West End to pick peaches. We were after big juicy peaches known as “Redskins.” They’ve probably have changed the name to be politically correct. But these were the best peaches. They grew to the size of a soft ball. When you bite into a ripe one, juice would run down your chin. They made delicious peach ice cream and look beautiful, canned in jars, where they waited to be baked into a pie during the winter.
J. B. Coles was a “pick-and-pay” orchard. My grandmother wanted to get a couple bushels to can in Mason jars for winter. A few overly ripe peaches would be saved to enhance a bowl of cereal in the morning or to toss into the ice cream freezer for a Sunday afternoon treat. We were hard at work, finding ripe peaches and softly placing them in baskets, so as not to bruise them.
My grandparents were working one side of a tree and I was on the other when my grandmother asked: “Jeff, did you cut one?”
“Did I cut one?” I couldn’t believe my ears. My stomach was a little upset and I had released some gas. But I couldn’t believe my grandmother was asking about it? Asking, “if I’d cut one,” made her sound like one of my crude classmates. How could she even tell? She was on the other side of the tree. I’d worked hard to release it slowly, without making a sound.
“What? I asked, hoping I was mistaken about her question.
“Did you cut one?” This time her tone was harsh and accusatory.
I began to sweat and wondered if I was about to be disowned by my own grandma for farting. Finally, I confessed, “Yes, a small one.”
“You put that knife away,” she yelled. “These aren’t our peaches until we pay for them.”
I had just confessed to a sin I had not committed.
My grandma was a saint. It’s too bad she was a Presbyterian and not a Catholic. All Presbyterians are considered saints once dead, so it’s nothing special. But the Catholics have a special category for those who over-achieve in goodness and have performed a miracle in life. My grandma was always good and she had her miracle. She’d sobered up her brother Dunk, and mostly kept him that way the last twenty years of his life.
But my grandma wasn’t Catholic. In a way that would have made John Knox proud, she cast a skeptical eye toward the papists. I learned this the summer before confessing the uncommitted sin against a peach.
My grandparents were visiting. We had spent the afternoon on Wrightsville Beach. I was in love that summer with Cathy Nucci, my first real girlfriend. She and I would later consummate our relationship with a kiss out by the baseball field at Roland Grice Jr. High. On this day, at the beach, we were out in front of the Lumina, the same spot where we always went. This was also the same area the Nucci family would set up camp when they were at the beach. This made it convenient for seeing Cathy in the summer as I was four years away from a driver’s license.
I loved that dark hair, dark eyed girl with olive skin. We held hands while lying in the sand and played in the surf. We were an idyllic couple, Think of Burt Lancaster and Deborah Kerr in that classic beach scene in the movie, From Here to Eternity. Well, maybe not that idyllic as we were only 12. Besides, Lancaster had to fight off the Japanese. But then, I had to fight off Cathy’s older brothers as they attempted to drown me.
My grandmother was born a McKenzie. You can’t get much more Scottish and Presbyterian than that. The Nucci’s were Italian and Catholic. Maybe that was why her brothers were always trying to drown me.
Later that afternoon, as I was drying myself after having showered the salt from my body, I overheard a rather heated conversation between my mom and my grandma. They were in the hall and either didn’t know or didn’t care that I was right next door in the bathroom. My grandmother chided her daughter-in-law, my mom, for letting me hang out with a Catholic girl. “What if they marry? she asked. I assumed we were destined to wed. We were almost teenagers and were in love. It felt as if my own mother stabbed me in the back when she responded, “Helen, they’re going into the seventh grade. I don’t think we have to worry about a wedding anytime soon.” It turned out my mother was more concerned about me drowning at the hands of the Nucci boys than me living a long and blissful life with Cathy. Couldn’t Mom see that we were in love?
Of course, Cathy and I didn’t make as a couple out of the seventh grade. As for my grandmother, my granddaddy died in my sophomore year of college. A few years later my grandmother married Earl. He was Catholic… Of course, he later converted and a Presbyterian minister, yours truly, officiated at his funeral.
I have to give my grandma some credit with helping me realize my call. I was ten and we were staying in a house on Topsail Beach when I told my grandmother that I was going to be a Presbyterian minister. I am not sure what cause me to say that, as before then it hadn’t crossed my mind. I’d wanted to study volcanoes or be in the Army. Later, in my first year of seminary, my grandmother gave me a copy of Bauer’s Greek-English Lexicon of the New Testament for Christmas. When I graduated, she saw to it that I had a set of china as she felt every minister need to be able to entertain. It was good to hear from the few who remembered Grandma, as most who knew her had died long before her, and how she was proud of me.
Goodbye Grandma. Thank you for encouraging me to laugh and to pursue my calling.
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
December 11, 2016
John 10:22-39
We’re exploring passages from John’s gospel this Advent season that relate to what Jesus’ coming was all about. The first Sunday of Advent, we learned that Jesus’ followers should expect persecution. Last Sunday, we explored the meaning of the incarnation. Today’s passage builds on the incarnation theme—that in Jesus Christ, God was in the flesh. Although we don’t know the date of Jesus’ birth, this is a passage we can date as occurring very close to our Christmas season. It takes place at the Festival of the Dedication, also known as Hanukkah (the Hebrew word for renewal).[1] By the way, Hanukkah this year, which our Jewish neighbors and friends will celebrate, closely aligns to Christmas. It begins on Christmas Eve, the 24th and runs through New Year’s Eve.
The background of Hanukkah comes from the intertestamental period, between the last of the Hebrew Scriptures or the Old Testament, and the coming of Christ and the New Testament. The story of what happened is told in First Maccabees, which is found in the Apocryphal. These books are not a part of the Protestant canon, or Bible. Nor are they in the Jewish Scriptures. The Catholic Church accepts them as scripture and you can find them in Study Bibles. It isn’t that the books were false that kept them from being accepted into the canon of Scripture, but that they were not considered necessary for salvation. However, they do shed light on what happened during this period of nearly 4 centuries.
In the Second Century BC, King Antiochus of Syria, who ruled over Israel, sought to do away with the Jewish faith. He outlawed the practices of Judaism: the sacrifices in the temple, the keeping of the Sabbath, and circumcision. To really make his point, he turned the Jewish temple into an altar for Zeus and, just to rub their noses into the dirt, sacrificed a pig on the altar. Needless to say, this incensed the Hebrew people and a group revolted and drove the Syrians out of Jerusalem. Then they had to deal with the temple that had been profaned. They destroyed the old altar, built a new one, and the cleansed the temple. There was an eight day period of cleansing, but they found there was only enough oil for the lamps for one day. God provided and the one day’s worth of oil burned for eight.[2]
Move forward to Jesus’ time. Rome, another foreign power, brutally controls Israel with an iron hand. The Festival of the Dedication, in which they recalled how God had saved them in the past, becomes a time in which the Jews look for the coming of the Messiah. This explains why Jesus is being hounded as to whether or not he’s it. Read John 10:22-39.
###
We’re finally enjoying some cool air. And when the wind stirs a bit, the air has a bite to it. If we’re outside, we want to be moving around to stay warm and perhaps find ourselves a place where we can be protected from the wind and enjoy the sun. Jesus was no different. Winter in the holy lands can be quite chilly. Normally, teachers like Jesus would sit and his students would stand around him, but when the air temperature dips and in the mornings you find a thin sheet of ice in the pools, sitting isn’t a pleasurable option. You move around. You head to the side of the temple facing the sun, where the large stone walls and columns block the wind.[3] There, Jesus walks for warmth, while being hounded by people. A day or so before, he taught them about the Good Shepherd, a lesson that had many of the Jews upset because he implied their leaders were not good. But some wondered if Jesus could be the Messiah. After all, he’d first need to clean house, wouldn’t he? Is he the Messiah?
If the Messiah is to come, the Festival of the Dedication or Hanukkah, would be an appropriate time. This is a holiday about renewal, getting back on the right track. Let’s kick these Romans out and establish God’s rule! But as is common in John’s gospel, Jesus doesn’t directly answer those who are hounding him.[4] In fact, Jesus’ answers are equivalent to throwing kerosene on a fire. Jesus blames them for not understanding what he’s already taught and points to the good work he’s done. Some of these good deeds have already gotten him in trouble because he had the gall to do them on the Sabbath.[5] Now he tells them they don’t believe because they are not his sheep.
Although this passage certainly could be used to support predestination, God’s knowledge of and control over salvation, perhaps it is best to err on the side of one commentator who said this passage points out “that the deity is far more powerful than humanity.”[6] God is more powerful, more knowledgeable, than me and you.
There are three things those who are Jesus’ sheep, those who believe in Jesus, will do according to verse 27. First of all, we will listen. We will hear his voice. Next, Jesus will get to know us. And finally, as this relationship grows, we will follow Jesus. Then there are two promises for those who hear, develop a relationship with and follow Jesus. We will be given eternal life and will be protected.[7] All this, Jesus can do because, as he says in verse 30, he and the Father are one.
With that last comment, the crowd that has gathered around Jesus is about to riot. Certainly Jesus knows what’s going on, but he asks them a question to force them to be honest. “Are you going to stone me because of my good works?” They must realize that if they are going to kill him, they are killing a good man, one who has helped the helpless, those in need, those who are ill and dying or blind. But it’s not Jesus’ work that bothers them, it’s his incessant that he is one with the Father. John’s gospel, as we saw last week, wants to emphasis this point—the incarnation—God and Jesus as one. But to those who do not believe find such talk blasphemous.
Jesus, in justifying his assertion that he is one with God, quotes from the 82nd Psalm, which we heard read earlier. That Psalm, in which God (with a big G) stands in judgment over gods (with a little g), is interpreted as an indictment of Israel.[8] Failing to do the merciful work assigned to them—rescuing the weak and needy and protecting them from evil—they are destined die as the consequence of their sin. Again, Jesus recalls the good work he’s done and suggested that even if they don’t accept him for who he is, that they at least accept what he’s done. But the crowd will have none of it and attempt to arrest Jesus. But as he has done before, Jesus alludes their capture.[9] It is not yet his time.
What kind of Savior do we want? If we are like the Israelites, we’d probably want one who going to do what we think is most important. “Let him be like Judah Maccabee and kick out those Roman, let him make our nation great again, let him be mighty and powerful.” For others, this Savior, this Messiah, would look a lot like Santa. “Let him fulfill our wants and desires!” But asking what kind of Savior we want is rather short-sighted. We should ask, “What kind of Savior do we need?” And that’s not something we can answer unless we are truly convicted of our sin. Perhaps, it’s a question best left to God. I think it was C. S. Lewis who said we’re going to spent much of eternity thanking God for the prayers not answered in a manner we desired. God knows best. As the commentator I quoted earlier said, “The Word is on the side of the godhead, not creaturehood.”[10] Or, as I often say, “God is God and we aren’t.”
In a manner, as I tried to impress upon you last week, Jesus is more than just a Savior. He is God incarnate. And to those of us who hear his voice and draw near and follow him, Jesus offers eternal life and promises to be with us. But we have to be devoted to him. We can’t control Jesus or put him into a box to be kept on a shelf until needed, as those in the first century desired.
In this passage we see how the Jews who hounded Jesus suffered from a tunnel vision which kept them from seeing the truth that was in front of their eyes. We must always remember that we are to follow Jesus. He didn’t come to follow us. We must be willing to accept him on his terms, not ours. As the old gospel hymn goes, “All to Jesus I surrender, All to him I freely give… I surrender all, I surrender all, all to Thee, my blessed Savior, I surrender all.
As we come closer to the day we celebrate Jesus’ birth, do we surrender all? Do we trust God and his mysterious ways enough to follow Jesus? If so, listen to Jesus, develop a relationship with him, and follow him. Amen.
©2016
[1]Frederick Dale Bruner, The Gospel of John: A Commentary (Grand Rapids: Eerdman, 2012), 634.
[2] The background for Hanukkah, as well as other insights in this sermon, I am indebted to a Christmas Eve sermon on the passage by the Rev. Paul W. Manuel, retired pastor of the German Seventh Day Baptist Church of Salemville PA on Christmas Eve 2011. See https://paulwmanuel.blogspot.com/2012/11/sermon-john-1022-39-light-on-messiah.html. See also Bruner, 640-641.
[3] Bruner, 635.
[4] For example see John 3:1-22 and 9:35-41
[5] See John 9:14-17.
[6] Gerard Sloyan, John: Interpretation, A Biblical Commentary for Teaching and Preaching, (Atlanta: John Knox Press, 1987), 134.
[7] Bruner, 636
[8] Bruner, 650. See also James L. Mays, Psalms: Interpretation, A Biblical Commentary for Teaching and Preaching (Louisville KY: John Knox Press, 1994), 268-271.
[9] For example: Luke 4:28-30 and John 8:59.
[10] Sloyan, 137.
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
December 4, 2016
John 20:24-31
The Christmas season is to be a magical time, a time of miracles. There are magical elves assembling gifts in a North Pole workshop, an ostracized reindeer with a bright nose guiding Santa’s sleigh on a stormy night, and, in the real world, secret Santa’s providing families in need with something to put under their tree. Perhaps you’ve played the latter. It’s one of the joys of life.
This Advent, we’re exploring passages from the Gospel of John that focus on the implications of Jesus’ coming. Today, on the Second Sunday of Advent, we’re looking at the doctrine of the incarnation. This is the true miracle of Christmas. God has come to us in the flesh. We’re reading from the 20th Chapter, beginning with verse 24. This is a post-resurrection appearance of Jesus, but it’s only then the disciples fully realize the meaning and implications of Jesus’ coming. Listen!
###
It was a Sunday morning about twenty five years ago. I had some hair then. I had been the pastor at the United Church of Ellicottville for about a year, and we’d just finished worship, which included the celebration of the Lord’s Supper. As I was greeting the last of congregation at the door, Cathy came up and grabbed my arm. She was shaking and noticeably troubled.
“Jeff,” she said, her voice trembling. “I think we’ve just witnessed a miracle.”
“Ugh,” I wasn’t sure what to say. Finally I asked, “what happened?”
“We were pouring the juice from the unused communion cups back into the jar from where the juice had come and it over filled. There was more juice than we had when we started. That’s not counting all those empty cups people drank during the service.”
I confess, my first thought wasn’t about a miracle. You see, we’re not made to think about miracles. My first thought was, “Why are they saving the juice from all those cups that had been passed around the church?” It seemed unsanitary. Kind of like saving food that’s been out on day on a buffet. I’d poured that used juice down the drain. It couldn’t (or shouldn’t) have been that much juice to have lost. But then, I wouldn’t have experienced the miracle.
I was perplexed. Was this a miracle? Had Jesus really shown up? Had the grape juice turned into good wine as the water had in Cana? I should go have a look, and a sample.
In our text today, which takes place between two Sundays, we learn of a true miracle. Thomas wasn’t there when Jesus first met with the disciples on the day of resurrection. (First lesson: you never know what you might miss when you skip church.) But word has gotten back to this disciple, who’s also known as “the Twin.” Now, what kind of nickname is that? Ever known anyone with such a nickname?[1] Did he have a sibling and if so, what was he or she called? Or, was this because he was both, at the same time, a real believer and a doubter (you know, that other name that has been attached to him throughout the years, Doubting Thomas)? If the latter is true, that he was a believer and doubter, then he is not so different that all of us.
Thomas was one of the Twelve, he had a position of responsibility, but he did not show up at the most important church gathering ever–the one that occurred that first Easter evening. I wonder if he felt he had missed out on something later in life as he reflected back on the events around Jesus’ death and resurrection.
When the remaining ten disciples catch up with Thomas, they’re all excited. “We’ve seen the Lord!” They’re jumping and shouting and hugging each other, just as the Cubs were when they won the World Series. But this wasn’t enough for Thomas. I’ll give him another name: “the pragmatic empiricist.” With a bragging swagger, he acknowledges that seeing won’t be enough to convince him, he must experience Jesus’ wounds before he believes. He’ll get his chance.
The other gospels hint that the unbelief wasn’t limited to just Thomas. It appears John uses Thomas as an archetype of doubt that the disciples experienced as well as those of us who follow.[2] Having doubt isn’t anything new or unusual.
One week later, again on the first day of the week, the disciples gather and Thomas is with them. Jesus again shows up. He stands in the middle of the disciples and pronounces his peace upon them. Then his eyes turn to Thomas. He has to deal with the issue of doubt. He calls Thomas to step up and stick his finger in the wounds of his hand and to put hand into his side. This is enough for Thomas; he immediately cries, “My Lord and My God!” This profession of faith is the climax of John’s gospel. John began his story speaking of the Word becoming Flesh and implying that Jesus was from God, the incarnate one. The true identity of Jesus is now revealed and understood.
Jesus is more than just a Messiah. Jesus is more than just a savior. He’s not just a cowboy riding in on a fine horse sporting a white hat, who sets things right again before riding off in the sunset. Jesus is God incarnate! He is to be worshipped and followed, loved and obeyed. The event of Jesus’ coming is the pivotal event in human history for it illustrates how much love God has for the creation. Do we get it? Do we understand that the celebration of Christmas is more than just a chance to exchange gifts while eating well and propping up the economy with our purchases? Do we realize that the real miracle of Christmas has nothing to do with Santa fitting down a chimney or with Kris Kringle on 34th Street?
Jesus responds to Thomas’ confession, by addressing generations to follow. “Have you believed because you have seen me? What about those who do not see yet believe? Blessings upon them.” This is Jesus offers his last great beatitude in John’s gospel. And it is a blessing that covers us. Blessing to all of us who, having not had a physical encounter with the Messiah, believe in him.
This section ends with a conclusion which suggests that we’re only being told a part of what Jesus did while he was on earth with the disciples.[3] What is written is for those of us who, unlike Thomas and the ten remaining disciples, will not physically encounter Jesus but will come to know him through the testimony of the Apostles and the Holy Spirit. We believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, God himself, and that through him we can experience the forgiveness of sin and enjoy eternal life.
I know I left you hanging with Cathy and the miracle of the Communion juice. That afternoon, after much pondering, it dawned on me what happened. There was a pitcher that was a part of the communion silverware at the church. During the celebration, I would pour the juice in the pitcher into the chalice as I spoke the words concerning the blood of Christ. Those who prepared communion would always pour just a little bit of juice into the pitcher, so that I would have to practically turn it upside down to have the juice flow. That morning, I was back in the kitchen as they prepared communion. I took the pitcher, filled it about half way with water, then poured enough juice in it to color the water, then I took it out and placed it on the table. No one knew what I had done.
I called Cathy that afternoon and asked if she had also poured the juice from the chalice and pitcher back into the jar. Sure enough, she had. Miracle solved, which was kind of sad. Yet, the real miracle isn’t physical. The real miracle is that the same Jesus who was present there that first Sunday after Easter, as the disciples gathered, was present with us that morning in Ellicottville, and is present with us today. Through the Spirit that Jesus promised, as we heard last week, we have God among us, in our midst, in worship and in our lives. We’ve not been abandoned.
But that’s not the ending of the miracle. There is one more step to it. The real miracle involves a change in our hearts, which are softened by God’s love and thereby opened to help others experience the real miracle of Christmas. Having been loved by God, having not been abandoned, what will be your response? How will you help spread the real miracle of the season? Amen.
©2016
[1] Frederick Dale Bruner, The Gospel of John: A Commentary (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2012) 1184.
[2] Gerard Sloyan, John: Interpretation, A Biblical Commentary for Teaching and Preaching (Atlanta: John Knox Press, 1988), 225.
[3] Sloyan, 223, 226.
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
November 27, 2016
John 15:18-27
Today is the first Sunday of Advent, a season in which we recall the waiting for the Messiah by the people of Israel while we wait for his return. As Christians, we long for that day when Jesus will reign and all will be at peace. But until then, we who believe, we who follow and trust our Lord, live in a kind of a “no-man’s land.” We’re in the world but because of our allegiance, we don’t belong to the world. We often find ourselves at odds with the world, even hated. But we hold fast to what God has done in Jesus Christ, and are comforted by God’s spirit. As we learn from the Psalms, “even through the valley of the shadow of death,” God is there with us.[1] That’s the essence of the passage we’re looking at today. This Advent, I will explore passages from the Gospel of John that focus on the implications of Jesus’ coming. Today’s reading comes from the fifteenth chapter, beginning with verse 18. Listen!
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It happens at least every other year. The first Sunday of Advent is also the Sunday after Thanksgiving. It seems appropriate. At least, in the retail world, Christmas shopping kicks off big time as Black Friday follows Thanksgiving. Some of you, I’m sure, found some great bargains while the rest of us tried to avoid the hordes of shoppers. In our American psyche, these two holidays, Thanksgiving and Christmas, are linked together.
When I was a kid, Thanksgiving was a foretaste of Christmas. To start with, there was a break in school. Of course, it was only four days long, not the two weeks we had at Christmas, but still there was a break from the routine of the classroom. There were other similarities, too. We always gathered with family. Sometimes we’d travel to Pinehurst to be with grandparents, other times they’d travel and be at our house. And like Christmas, there was a big dinner. Now unlike Christmas, we were actually hungry on Thanksgiving. We’d spend the morning playing football or, if we were in Pinehurst, perhaps some bird hunting. There was no candy in a stocking to snack on as there was at Christmas. The other big difference was presents. There were no presents at Thanksgiving. As I suggest, Thanksgiving was only a foretaste of what was to come. But it was good, and Christmas promised to be even better.
Advent reminds us that we live in this period between the two comings. The first coming was joyful and sad. The joyful part, the hope of the child born in Bethlehem as witnessed by the shepherds, serves as a foretaste of the second coming. Yet, there is a sad part, for from the beginning, there were those after Jesus as Herod feared he would be dethroned. And we, who believe, still live in a corrupted and sinful world. But because we belong to another world, another kingdom, we have a hope for a much better future. This dual citizenship creates tension and, at times, persecution. Jesus makes this clear in our passage today.
This passage is a part of that long discourse in John’s Gospel in which Jesus, in the hours before his betrayal, tries to prepare his disciples for what’s ahead. As Jesus moves closer to the cross, one of the key teachings he keeps coming back to is persecution. As one commentator on this passage wrote, “John makes clear that the world’s hatred of the Christian is not a passing phenomenon; hate is just as much of the essence of the world as love is the essence of the Christian.”[2] As Christians, we are counter-cultural as we must love those who hate us.[3]
Jesus begins this passage reminding us that when we are hated, that the world hated him first. Whoever believes the Christian life is always going to be smooth and easy hasn’t spent enough time contemplating the life of Jesus. The cross is a reminder that the ways of world are at odds with God’s kingdom.
This week, a Christian blogger I regularly read came out with ten things Christians need to do differently in the next election. First was that we should not demonize anyone. And if we are to call anyone evil, it should prefaced by a “we’re”, as in “we’re evil.” After all, we should all know the evil lurking in our own hearts. Not only should we not demonize a candidate, we shouldn’t “christen” one either. “No politician is Jesus, so no politician is the ‘Christian’ choice.” The blogger goes on to encourage us to acknowledge ambiguity, to consider the interest of others, not to call evil good, or to suggest that someone is more likely to be saved than another. His final advice is that we shouldn’t waste all our breath on bureaucracy. God did not create the government to carry out his purposes. That’s the church’s role.[4]
Reading this list, I was reminded that if we are not careful, the world will use us for its purposes and we won’t be used for God’s purposes. We have been called out of the world, into God’s kingdom, where Jesus reigns. And as long as we live in the in-between time, we live with the tensions that exist between the two kingdoms.
In verses 22, Jesus makes a statement that, on the surface, sounds as if he had not come, there wouldn’t be any sin. That, of course, is hard to reconcile with all the sinning that went on within the Old Testament. What he means, however, is his coming from God the Father sets up a situation that allows for the world to sin against God by his unjust execution. And by hating him, they also hate his Father and are thereby guilty of breaking the first table of the law.[5]
Beginning in Verse 26, Jesus speaks of the Advocate that is to come, that being the Holy Spirit. In this text we see the working of the Trinity: Father, Son and Spirit. Jesus does not abandon his disciples and the church in the world, but with the Father sends the Spirit that continues to testify to God’s truth in our hearts. And because we have received such testimony, Jesus expects us, his followers, to also testify to the world of his truth. As Jesus tells the disciples before ascending to heaven, you are to be my witnesses.[6] We who are in but not off the world are commissioned to tell the world of God’s truth.
Ignatius of Antioch, a Christian leader in the late first century who was martyred early in the second century of the Christian era, noted that the church’s true greatness, was not when it’s persuading the world. “True greatness is when the church is hated by the world.”[7] This is from a man who knew firsthand the danger of being a Christian, the danger of testifying in a time of persecution. We, as believers of the child born in Bethlehem, are not to depend on the world and its powers. As Paul proclaimed to the Corinthians, “God’s weakness is stronger than human strength.”[8]
Our world has been in a rebellion against God from the beginning. Jesus came in order to save the world, but there are those so heavily invested in the ways of the world that they saw Jesus as a threat and decided to do away with him. The descendants of those who crucified our Lord continue to see the church as a threat. Sometimes, because we are all sinful, we may even be a part of those who oppose God’s work. So we need to examine even our own motives. And we must not be intimidated by the world, for we don’t belong to it. We belong to Jesus, and we testify that he is the truth while trusting in Gods’ comforting Spirit who remains with us while we are in the world. This we continue to do until he comes again.
Friends, think of living between Thanksgiving and Christmas. During this in-between time, we are thankful that Jesus came and we long for his return. That day will be a Christmas like no other, but until then Jesus hasn’t left us alone. He has sent us an Advocate, the Holy Spirit, whose remains at our side regardless of the troubles we face in the world. Although we will face opposition, we will be comforted and there will be good times, too. For we do not walk this path along. God wants what is best for us and accompanies us as we make our way through this life. Believe it; trust it; live it! Amen.
©2016
[1] Psalm 23:4.
[2]Raymond Brown, The Gospel According to John XIII-XXI (New York: Doubleday, 1970), 695
[3] Matthew 5:44, Luke 6:27.
[4] For the complete list see: http://scribblepreach.com/2016/11/17/10-resolutions-for-the-next-election/
[5] Commandments 1-4 in the Ten Commandments. For further explanation of what I’m trying to say, see Frederick Dale Bruner, The Gospel of John: A Commentary (Grand Rapids: Eerdman, 2012 ), 904.
[6] Matthew 28:19-20, Acts 1:8
[7] Ignatius of Antioch, Romans iii.3 as quoted by Brown, 686 . Information on Ignatius of Antioch’s life from The Westminster Dictionary of Church History, Jerald C. Brauer, editor, (Philadelphia: Westminster, 1971), 423-423.
[8] 1 Corinthians 25.
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
November 13, 2016
2 Corinthians 9:6-15
A few years ago I was flying on a commuter airline, you know the type where you have to squeeze yourself in and the aisle are not very wide. Sitting across the aisle from me was a young girl, three or maybe four years old. The flight attendant came by with peanuts and I was hungry, so opened my pack and tossed them down fairly quickly. The young girl watched me intently as her mother helped her open her pack of peanuts. She must have thought I was famished because she ate a peanut and then took another and held it out for me. Part of me thought, no way, there’s no telling where those hands had been. But then I realized that to turn her down her offer would deny her a chance to learn about sharing and giving. I took the peanut, thanked her and made a big deal out of eating it. She smiled and laughed. There were more peanuts to come.
Today, as we continue to work our way through the themes of Jeff Manion’s book, Satisfied: Discovering Contentment in a World of Consumption, we’re talking about a generous heart. A generous heart is one that gracious receives the gifts we’re given in this life while giving back to the church, to ministries doing God’s work in the world, and to those in need.
Our text is from the ninth chapter of 2nd Corinthians. Let me give you a bit of background information. In the eighth chapter of this letter, Paul begins his discussion of the offering being collected for those in Jerusalem who are suffering from a famine. The conversation continues through the ninth chapter. Paul is in a bind. The Corinthian Church has promised a gift which hasn’t been forthcoming. Paul doesn’t want to humiliate the Corinthians into giving, although he does suggest that if their gift doesn’t materialize, he and the Corinthians are going to have a hard time living it down. After all, their poorer neighbors to the north, the Macedonians, have already made a generous gift.[1] But giving to maintain honor is not a good reason. Paul doesn’t want them to feel compelled to give. He wants them to give cheerfully because they are sharing in God’s work. Listen as I read 2 Corinthians 9:6-15.
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It had been a long hard winter. The snow piled deeper and deeper as the mercury plunged and rivers froze. People began to suffer in the mountains and the Red Cross responded. They lined up helicopters and as soon as the weather cleared, they flew the supplies in. One crew had been working all day when they spotted a little cabin buried in the snow, with a wisp of smoke coming from a chimney. The team assumed they could use some help, but there was no way they could get the ‘copter down near the cabin. They sat down about a mile away and one of the rescuers volunteered to ski in with some essentials. It was exhausting work, pushing through snow drifts as he broke trail. Finally he reached the cabin and knocked on the door, exhausting and panting. A startled mountain woman opened the door and the man gasped, “I’m from the Red Cross.” “I’m sorry, Sonny,” she said closing the door. “It’s been a long and hard winter and we don’t have anything left to give.”[2]
Friends, as God’s chosen, we need to practice how to give and receive. Paul gives us some clues about how to do this in our passage today. We’ve been blessed in order to give.
Paul makes it clear in this passage that God supplies the gift and blesses the giver. God provides the gift because God wants us to be able to participate with him, doing his work in the world. Verse eight reads, “God can pour on the blessings in astonishing ways so that you’re ready for anything and everything, more than just ready to what needs to be done.”[3]
Notice it doesn’t say anything about an amount of a particular type of gift. Nor does it even say anything about the need of the recipient. Paul doesn’t shame the Corinthians into giving by pointing out how those in Jerusalem are starving and malnourished. He doesn’t show any photos of kids with skinny arms and legs and extended stomachs, suggesting that for just a dollar a day, this child can have a better life. Now, there are a lot of groups that do good work using such techniques, but that wasn’t Paul’s way. Shaming is a technique that works well in the world, but it’s not Biblically grounded. Instead, Paul points out the need for them (and for us) to give in order to fulfill God’s intention in our lives and to allow God to bless us for our generosity.
Like the Corinthians, we need to give. Some of us are able to make large gifts while others of us are only able to make a modest gift, or what may seem to be only a small gift. But all are valuable. As it has been pointed out in many sermons, the largest and the smallest gift in scripture is the same one. The widow who gave her two small coins gave all she had. By percentage, it’s the largest cash gift recorded in scripture. But because the two coins were so small, it’s also the smallest. [4] We give, not because we can make a difference. We give because God gave to us first and because we want to be a part of the work God is doing in the world.
By the way, although Paul is talking about a financial commitment with the Corinthians, our giving is more than just putting money or checks into the offering plate, electronically transferring money to the church bank account, or the gifting of stock or real estate. God has given us so much more. The financial part is critical to our spiritual development. You’ve probably heard before that Jesus talked more about money and the proper use of treasure than any other topic except prayer.
Beyond money, it is also important for us to give of our time and talents, to show of empathy, and the willingness to be with others during times of trial. As God’s elect, we are to be doing God’s work in the world. Through the church, God partners with us so that we might show the world a better way of living.
It’s exciting that God wants us to be in partnership with him, but more than that, God also gives us the means to contribute. It has often been said that the church will never have enough, but it always has enough for its mission. God sees to it that we have what we need to carry forth our work in the world. From a business standpoint, this might not make sense. Our analytical minds want us to have all the resources lined up in advance, but God doesn’t work that way. He wants us to go forth while trusting and being dependent on him. When everything is assured, there is no room for faith.
Paul doesn’t end this discussion with the benefits that giving has for the giver, but he goes on to discuss the spiritual impact upon the recipient of the gift. He’s suggesting that those in Jerusalem, who receive the gift, will give thanks to God for the Corinthians and their faithfulness. The believers in Jerusalem are Jewish Christians and they’ve not been overly thankful for the Gentile Christians. But Paul suggests that because of their gift, those in Jerusalem will have a change in heart and instead of looking down their noses at the Gentiles, they’ll give thanks to God for them and will pray for them. The Jewish Christians are being prompted for a second conversion, one that will welcome all those who Christ calls to himself.[5]
God’s generosity should melt our hearts; our generosity has to power to melt the hearts even of our enemies. As Jeff Manion points out in the book we’re reading, our generosity is anchored in God’s generosity. As we give, God graciously provides.[6] When we train our hearts to be generous, God can bless us even more. When we are generous and gracious to all, including our enemies, we are living as God intends.[7]
Annie Dillard in Pilgrim at Tinker Creek, her first book which also won her the Pulitzer Prize, tells of a game she played when she was a child of six or seven years old growing up in Pittsburgh. She’d take a penny and hid it where someone could find it. It was great joy to her, as a young girl, to be a blessing to the one who found and pocketed her penny. She would hid the penny along the sidewalk near her home, cradling it within the roots of a sycamore or in a chipped off piece of concrete. But it wasn’t enough to just hide the penny, as she wanted to experience the excitement of it being found. She would take chalk and draw arrows toward the penny. As she began to be able to spell, she’d write, “SURPRISE AHEAD or MONEY THIS WAY. The thought of a lucky by-passer, who without merit found the penny as a “free gift from the universe,” excited her.[8]
Think of the excitement of Annie Dillard as a child or that young girl feeding me peanuts on an airplane. We can have just as much excitement as adults, partnering with God and giving to programs that help build God’s kingdom. Generosity is counter-cultural. It is an antidote to a self-centered, narcissistic, me-first society. Cultivate a generous heart. And as you give, trust that God will continue to give to you so that you will be able to be even more generous. Amen.
©2016
[1] 2 Corinthians 8:1-6. The idea of a gift is introduced in 1 Corinthians 16:1-4.
[2] James Hewett, ed. Illustration’s Unlimited as used by John Salmon.
[3] 2 Corinthians 9:8, The Message Translation.
[4] Mark 12:41-44, Luke 21:1-4.
[5] When I am speaking of a “second conversion, I am thinking of it in terms of Peter. Even after accepting that Jesus was the Messiah, Peter had to another conversation in order to be open to the Gentiles. See Acts 10. Often times, our Christian walk isn’t about just one conversion but a series of conversions as we make small steps toward becoming the people God calls us to be.
[6] Jeff Manion, Satisfied: Discovering Contentment in a World of Consumption (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2013), 148.
[7] See Exodus 23:1-9.
[8] Annie Dillard, Pilgrim at Tinker Creek (NY: Harper and Row, 1974), 15.
The Opening of Today’s Pastoral Prayer
Almighty God, Lord of all lords, our Sovereign King, we who have gathered this morning come with raw emotions. Some are excited about the election results and others fearful. We’ve heard enough hate and rhetoric from both sides. We’re heard more than enough blame from both parties, and not nearly enough about what needs to be done. Instead of gloating or pouting, there is great need for confession and for apologies. It is as if we have forgotten that which we should have learned on the playgrounds of our childhood: harsh words can hurt and violence isn’t the answer. We live in a divided country, yet we also know that we, who are a part of your church, are not just citizens of this nation. Our allegiance belongs first and foremost to you and to your kingdom. But it is not just the elections for even in the excitement and the drowning within the news coverage, life still goes on. There are those in our church family and in our community who grieve over the deaths of loved ones. There are those in need of healing, encouragement, friendship, and hope. In our community, as around the world, the poor suffer and the prisoner is forgotten. Give us the courage, O God, to be the church. Through the life, death and resurrection of Jesus Christ, you broke down the wall separating us from you. May we also break down the walls that separate us from one another. May we show the world another way of living, the way of love, the way that leads to reconciliation and to eternal life.
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
November 5, 2016
1 Timothy 6:17-20
We’ve got a lot going on… A new elder ordained, quilts for valor, remembering saints, and communion. You’re probably thinking, “I hope he’s not too long this morning!” Well, you’re in luck! Instead of a full sermon, I’m giving you a homily. Homilies are by definition, shorter, more like a devotion and with less detail about the text. In a way, that’s sad because our topic today is something with which we all must deal. As I continue to work through the themes of Jeff Manion’s book, Satisfied: Discovering Contentment in a World Consumption, we are going to look at the Challenge of Affluence. It’s a topic our candidates for President could reflect on, as well as many others in our society. How do we enjoy and use what we have in a way that will bring God glory? Our text today is from the ending of the first letter to Timothy. Read 1 Timothy 6:17-20.
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How many of us consider ourselves “Middle Class”? Like most Americans, we don’t think of ourselves as rich, but I did some checking this week. According to the Pew Research Center, on a global level, to be in the middle income or middle class range means we’d have a household income of $10 to $20 a day. Such an amount puts you under the poverty level in the United States.[1] Now, there are a lot of other factors to consider, but just by being American, we can be assured that verse 17 is for us. It’s not just for the one-percenters, it’s for all of us. As Jeff Manion writes in the book we’re reading, “The tragedy is not that we who occupy the middle class are rich when compared to the larger would but that we are rich and utterly unaware.”[2]
What does our text say? Don’t be haughty. Here, we could use other synonyms such as prideful, conceited or arrogant. In other words, don’t be the type of person who, because of your riches, demand others look up to you.[3] We should not flaunt what we have or use to benefit only ourselves. And we shouldn’t set our hopes in riches. We should place our trust in God who gives us everything for our enjoyment. Notice that Paul doesn’t tell Timothy that being rich is a bad thing. Instead, we are to see what we have as a blessing that comes from God. Too often, however, instead of seeing what we have as a blessing, we fall into a trap of thinking we’ve earned it, that the blessings rightfully belong to us, and that we have to guard and protect it.
This letter is thought to have been written late in Paul’s ministry. Some scholars argue if Paul wrote it, or if one of Paul’s latter disciples wrote the letter and attached his teacher’s name to it. This doesn’t matter much for our understanding, except that we are given a glimpse into the early church society and learn that there were believers who were wealthy. By this point, the church no longer consisted of just poor fishermen and laborers and such. Paul also deals with those with affluence in his first letter to the Corinthians, where there were those who brought a feast to the fellowship and pigged-out while others went away hungry.[4] So even in the early church, there were struggles between the haves and the have nots. Here, Paul challenges those with material wealth to keep their focus on God as the source of their blessings. They should be joyful, for they can enjoy these gifts, and in using and sharing the gifts they can become even more joyful.
The other option is for those who are blessed to attempt to secure their wealth in a way that will only benefit themselves and their families. However, as Jesus reminds us, when we store up our treasures on earth, we have to deal with moths eating our fine clothing and draperies, rust consuming our cars and boats, and thieves stealing our jewelry and prize collections.[5] Likewise, Paul reminds Timothy to teach those who are rich that through their sharing and giving, they will store up a good foundation for the future. Again, to go back to Jeff Manion’s book, “[W]e are to conduct our lives and manage our wealth in a way that moves us toward our Lord rather than pushing us away from him.” Or, as he asks somewhat sarcastically, “how [can I] fall deeper in love with God and not my deck furniture?[6]
Paul concludes this letter, reminding Timothy to guard what has been entrusted to him. Here, he’s not talking about riches or wealth that’s been entrusted to him, but about the gospel, God’s message. He must keep his eye on Jesus and avoid getting caught up in debates that take his eye off the mark. I think what Paul means here is that if we strive to twist Jesus’ teaching for our own benefit, we’re taking a great risk. Our only hope is found in God, not in our wealth or, as we see here, in our knowledge. Sometimes our knowledge misleads us. We are to trust in God as revealed in Jesus Christ, to enjoy all that he’s given us and to realize that all we have and all we are belong to God and are to be used for God’s glory.
There was a father who took his son to McDonalds. The father was trying to be good and watch his weight, so he didn’t order himself any fries. But he got his boy a large fry, thinking he might slip one or two. As they sat down to eat, he took one of his boy’s fries and his son immediate slapped his hand. “These are mine, Dad, get your own.” This bothered the father. He worried why his son wasn’t grateful, for he was the one who had purchased the fries in the first place. “Maybe I should never buy him another French fry,” the father thought, but he loved the son and cherished times they were together, even those times at McDonalds. There would be more fries in the boy’s future. The father would just have to work on teaching him gratitude.
God has given us great and good gifts. God delights when we enjoy them, provided that we understand from where those gives come and to whom they ultimately belong. “The earth is the Lord’s and all that’s in it,” the Psalmist proclaims.[7] That includes our stuff. That includes us. It and we are all on loan from God. We need to live with a right attitude, one of generosity and gratitude, which will help us maintain a proper perspective as to the source of our blessings. Amen.
©2016
[1] http://www.pewglobal.org/2015/07/08/a-global-middle-class-is-more-promise-than-reality/
[2] Jeff Manion, Satisfied: Discovering Contentment in a World Consumption (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2013), 113.
[3] J. N. D. Kelly, The Pastoral Epistles: Timothy I & II and Titus (Hendrickson, 1960), 148/
[4] 1 Corinthians 11:17-22.
[5] Matthew 6:19.
[6] Manion, 116, 118.
[7] Psalm 24:1.
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
October 30, 2016
Ephesians 1:3-14
Our topic this week, in our all-church study of Jeff Manion’s book, Satisfied: Discovering Contentment in a World of Consumption, is identity shift. When we are adopted into God’s family through Christ, our identity changes. We are no longer identified primarily by our profession or by our possessions. Our identity is as a follower, a sister or brother, of Christ and as a child of God, our heavenly Father.
Our reading this morning is from what I’ve called in the past “the Presbyterian Epistle.” This is an appropriate passage for tomorrow will be the 499 anniversary of what’s marked as the beginning of the Reformation, Luther’s nailing of the 95 Thesis on the door of the Wittenberg Church. In this passage, Paul, writing to the church in Ephesus, reminds them that they’ve been “Chosen before of the foundation of the world.” Those who think predestination was something cooked up in the mind of John Calvin haven’t spent enough time with the Apostle Paul.
Another name for predestination is election. In a little over a week, we’ll go to the polls and elect a President, and a Senator, a Representative for the House, as well as local leaders. We choose for whom we’ll vote. Likewise, God chooses us. We’re elected, not by our own merit, but by God’s goodness and grace. Read Ephesians 1:3-14:
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Mikki Sawada was born into a wealthy and affluent Japanese family. Prior to the 2nd World War, her husband was the Japanese ambassador to Great Britain. For her, like millions of others, the war was a devastating experience. Her home was destroyed by bombs, a son died fighting, and much of her family’s wealth was lost. And then, during the chaos, her husband also died.
After the war, an incident occurred that would forever change her life and shape the lives of many others. She was travelling on a packed train in Tokyo. Shortly after she secured a seat, a young woman boarded the train and took the seat across from her. Above her head the stranger placed a package.
At the next stop, the young woman nervously departed the train, leaving the package behind. Continuing on its way, the train made an emergency stop and when it did the package fell in Mrs. Sawada’s lap. Everything in her past—her gender, her class, her manners, and her upbringing—told her to return the package to the rack. But within her an unrelenting voice said, “Open the package.” Heeding the voice, she carefully unwrapped it and was shocked and horrified to discover the life-less body of a racially-mixed baby.
She later commented, “Oh, the weight of it! The weight of the dead child! Once I had held that child, I knew the weight of the Christ child on my lap.” From that experience, she began to search for abandoned, racially-mixed babies. You see, in Japan, children who were not racially pure were unwanted and discriminated against. As soon the word got out that she was raising racially-mixed children, babies were left in her garden and on her door-step.
Out of her experience on the train, Mikki Sawada began a private Christian orphanage for children. In the generation after the war, her efforts facilitated the adoption of almost 2,000 children. Her babies found homes in dozens of countries throughout the world.[1]
When Mrs. Sawada boarded that train in Tokyo, she had no idea God would forever change her life by letting her feel the weight of the child. Mrs. Sawada did not go to work saving racially mixed children because she wanted to earn brownie points with God… Rather, she was claimed by God for this task. When God claims us, there is a purpose. Mrs. Sawada purpose was to save children. What is God calling us to do?
This passage is in the shape of a Trinitarian hymn which praises the mighty works of God. Paul begins discussing and praising God, our Father in Heaven, who has chosen us before the foundation of the world to be adopted through Jesus Christ as his children. Paul continues, explaining just how salvation works. We are redeemed through the blood of Christ in order obtain the inheritance God has planned for you and me. Finally, Paul speaks about how when we believe in Christ, the Holy Spirit seals us as one of God’s own people.
Embedded inside this passage are numerous references to the absolute freedom of God. God chose us, adopted us, and destined us. Because of God’s absolute freedom, we can see the love God the Father has for us. It’s by his grace that it’s possible for you and me to be adopted as his children.
Some people have a mistaken notion that God places us on this earth in order to test us. If we pass, we make it into heaven. Such thinking is dangerous for it makes us believe that we’re responsible for our own destiny. As John Calvin states, “The doctrine of free will is always in danger of robbing God of his glory.”[2] We are not placed on this planet to see what we can do by ourselves. Instead, our limitations and frailties encourage us to grasp the grace shown in Jesus Christ. We are to enjoy the benefits God grants while also glorifying our Heavenly Father.[3] God knows we are mere humans and struggle with temptations. God knows that we’ve going to sin so he designs a way that we might be redeemed and saved in spite of ourselves.
The opening passage in Ephesians clearly demonstrates God’s interest in our well-being. From the beginning, God has planned a way for you and me to be reconciled not only to him but also to one another through Jesus Christ. In the fullness of time, Jesus will gather up all things in heaven and earth. According to what Paul tells us, God is not done with us. God will continue working in the world until righteousness has conquered all.
The knowledge of God’s grace and love, as explained by Paul in this passage, should be enough to humbly drive each and every one of us to our knees. God plans for our salvation and through Jesus Christ enters the human race in order to make us one with him and him with us… That’s the crux of the good news. We should rejoice.
The mistaken idea of God testing us, his children, is akin to the way a few parents place such high expectations upon their children who then grow up with a warped sense of reality. Alice Miller, a psychologist, in her classic study The Drama of the Gifted Child discusses how some children grow up with the feeling that they are admired by other people only for their good qualities.[4] As adults, they then have a hard time feeling loved by others since they believe love is conditionally, based on good grades, good looks, performance in sports, music or drama, or advancement in a career.
How sad it is that some people always feel that the love—be it the love of God, of parents, or of a spouse—comes attached with strings. God didn’t tell Abraham, “I’ll be with you if you go out and start me a great nation.” Instead God said, I be with you and will give you a great nation…[5] Likewise, Jesus didn’t tell that low-down cheating tax collector Zacchaeus, “I’ll love you if you give back the money you’ve stolen.” Instead, Jesus willingly befriended Zacchaeus when no one else would, and because he loved Zacchaeus. The tax collector, on his own accord after feeling loved, volunteered to give back not only the money he’d stolen but also gave half of his wealth to the poor.[6]
There is good news for everyone in what God has done and is continuing to do for us through Jesus Christ. But the good news also means that if we want to get close to God, we need to humble ourselves because in the end it is God who acts on our behalf. God’s grace is freely given. You and I are loved by God, unconditionally… Are we willing to open ourselves up and accept his love? Are we willing to accept this powerful new identity that comes from having been adopted by Christ?
There are many people in this world today who feel broken, abandoned, shunned. They look for a new identity, or at least could benefit from a new identity which would help them rise over the voices from the past that live in their heads telling them: “You’re no good, you’re ugly, you’re stupid.” Living with such baggage we set out to prove others that they’re wrong, but it is a hard battle because we keep hearing those words in our mind. God wants to silence that self-destructive voice and replace it with a message of acceptance. “You are mind,” God says, “and I have loved you from the beginning of the world.”
I read an interesting book this weekend. “Sliding on the Edge” didn’t fall in my general genres of reading. It’s a “Young Adult” novel written for women. But the subject manner drew my attention and I’m acquainted with the author, so I decided to give it a try. The book is the story of Shawn, a sixteen year old girl who finds relief from her crappy life and her terrible mother by cutting herself with a razor blade. When Shawna moves in with her grandmother Kay, whom she has never met, she has a hard time accepting the love and the goodness shown to her. Having been abandoned by a dysfunctional and narcissistic mother, there’s much to overcome for her to be able to trust and to live a life as a normal teenager.[7]
Shawna, like all of us, needs to know that God loves us regardless of our past and has an inheritance for those of us who accept this new identity we have in Christ. Sadly, when parents fail to nurture a child, it is harder for them to feel they are worthy of the love from someone else be it a grandmother or God. But such people need to feel such love and sometimes it falls on folks like Mikki Sawada, Grandmother Kay, or us to show love.
I like how Manion speaks of our new identity. “Your most defining moment is not determined by who threw you out but who took you in. The God of creation adopted you. He picked you out, he picked you up, he brought you home.”[8] When we come into a relationship with Jesus Christ, we are offered a new identity, one that sets us free from the troubles of our past.
Our faith is built upon a foundation of God being all-powerful and all-loving. A loving God that is not all-powerful would lack the capability of being helpful to us (and would fail to meet the definition of God). An all-powerful God that is not loving would leave us uncertain and fearful. These two aspects of God are shown in the life, death and resurrection of Jesus, who died that we might live. Jesus invites us into his family. Jesus welcomes us into his church. Here, we are surrounded by others who may feel they’ve been abandoned by the world, but we are assured of God’s love and experience the love of our sisters and brothers of the faith.
If you feel abandoned or loss in this life, cling to Jesus and remember that you have an inheritance waiting for us. Amen.
©2016
[1] Rev. Donald R. Purkey, “The Weight of the Christ Child,” sermon found in Sowing Seeds of Hope, 1992 GA Stewardship Resource Booklet. See also https://www.hws.edu/about/blackwell/sawada.aspx and http://worklife.wharton.upenn.edu/wp-content/uploads/2013/02/Mari-Takada-on-Miki-Sawada.pdf.
[2] John Calvin. 1559. Institutes of the Christian Religion. II. ii.10
[3] Westminster Catechism Question 1 (Romans 11:36, 1 Corinthians 10:31, Psalm 73:24-26, John 17:22, 24)
[4] Alice Miller, The Drama of the Gifted Child (NY: Basic Books, 1981), 39.
[5] Genesis 12:2
[6] Luke 19:1-10.
[7] C. Lee McKenzie, Sliding on the Edge (WestSide Books).
[8] Jeff Manion, Satisfied: Discovering Contentment in a World of Consumption (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2013), 93-94.
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
October 23, 2016
Matthew 20:1-16
This is our second week of looking at topics found in the book Satisfied: Discovering Contentment in a World of Consumption. Last week we talked about enrolling in the School of Contentment. I mentioned in that sermon the problems with comparing ourselves to others. We’re going to dive deeper into the topic today as we explore the Parable of the Workers in the Vineyard in the 20th Chapter of Matthew.
This parable could be approached on many levels. We could explore God’s will for work.[1] God created us to labor.[2] Despite the bumper stickers that say, “A bad day of fishing” (or golfing or any other activity) is better than a good day at work, we’re made to be productive. What work for you or me looks like may be different? Some of us may work at home, raising kids and keeping house, others of us work in factories, on farms, in construction, in offices or on the road as sales personnel. Where we work and how we’re paid is immaterial to the fact that we’re created to spend six days a week involved in some kind of productive activity. God doesn’t create couch potatoes!
But the parable also teaches us something else in addition to our purpose on earth, which will be my main focus this morning. If we want to be miserable, compare ourselves to others and the opportunities that they have. “Comparison is the thief of joy,” Theodore Roosevelt supposedly said. There will always be someone with more stuff or better looks or a better looking spouse or whatever. There will also be someone who appears to be a better disciple than us. Likewise, there will also be those with less stuff or whose looks have faded. And of course, unless you’re a Hitler or Pol Pot, it’s easy to find someone who is more evil. If we want to be satisfied with life, forget about comparing ourselves to others and accept what we’ve been given by God as a blessing. Read Matthew 20:1-16.
###
The last shall be first and the first last… Sometimes we will be surprised. Thing about it: a Chicago Cubs/Cleveland Indians World Series! Two teams that know what it means to be at the last. Let’s hope it goes to seven games!
This parable hits hard. We believe we should be rewarded for our efforts. It’s instilled in us from an early age that if we do good and work hard, we’ll be rewarded.[3] Such beliefs drives our incentive to work, at least economically. You know, this belief of reward for hard work is a myth. Things don’t always work out that way. Those who come from wealthy households tend to continue to be wealthy and those who live in poverty tend to continue in poverty. Sometimes circumstances intervene: an illness, an accident, a stroke of luck, the winning of a lottery.
The myth of hard work paying off was laid bare in the mining camps of the American West. Some folks dug and dug and broke their backs, barely making a living. Others just happened to strike the pick on the right ledge and become incredibly rich. And then some others discovered that hard work with a pick and shovel wasn’t for them. They came to understand that it didn’t matter how much they ore they could bring to the surface, what mattered was how much ore their investors thought they could bring up. Some of these guys became incredibly rich. A few ended up in jail.
But still, most of us think a worker deserves his or her wages. Scripture confirms this.[4] The harder we work, the more we should be rewarded. Because of that, this story runs against how we think things should be.
As Americans, most of us can’t imagine the scenario that Jesus creates in this parable. You’ve got a group of workers, laborers, waiting around in the market place. They have no resources; they are totally dependent on those who own the fields and who, during the harvest, need a few extra hands. It’s a scene common in third world countries, where the men gather in the village square before dawn, waiting around for farm supervisors to hire them. The laborers stand up straight and try to look strong, hoping they’ll be chosen to work and thereby have the money to feed their families… If chosen, they jump into the back of a truck for the ride to the field. After the selections are made, those remaining shuffle around, waiting for the next opportunity.
It’s the height of harvest… The fruit ripens quickly and needs to be picked before it starts to rot on the vines. So the landowner comes again and again into the town square, each time picking up new workers. By five o’clock, only an hour or two before dark, everyone is hired. As the hot sun drops toward the horizon and the air cools, the light becomes softer and the shadows lengthen, it’s time to pay off the workers. They lined up. You’d think the landowner would pay off those who have been in the fields the longest, allowing them to head home for a shower and to buy food for their families. But this is a story designed to tell a greater truth, so Jesus reverses it. The landlord pays the short-timers first. The foreman hands out the pay envelops and those whose hands are barely dirty look in and are surprised to see that they have earned a denarius, the equivalent of a day’s labor. Seeing this, the men whose skin is red from having worked in the sun, whose clothes are stained from the fruit, think they’re going to make out exceptionally well. “He’s paying the short-timers a day’s wage, certainly we’ll receive more,” or so they think.
But that’s not what happens. They grumble and complain. They don’t think it’s fair, and let’s be honest, neither would we. But the landowner, the one who had hired them, addresses them as “friends,” and remind them that they received the wages for which they’d agreed to work.
By paying those hired on at the end a day’s wages, this gracious landowner ensures that all families will have bread for dinner at night and more. If they’d only been paid for an hour’s work in a society where food is expensive, they and their families would have go to bed hungry.
Of course, this is a parable essentially about the kingdom and how God is free to bestow grace on whom he chooses.
Our parable is bookended with that little saying Jesus often repeats, “The last will be first and the first last.” It comes at the end of the 19th Chapter and again at the end of this parable. The parable demonstrates the truth of this proverb, reminding us that Judgment Day will be a day of surprises.[5] When it comes to comparison, we look to those at the head of the line and are jealous. But Jesus reminds us that God’s economic system doesn’t work like ours.
Secondly, the parable is also Jesus’ way of responding again to Peter’s question back in 19:27 (“Lord, we’ve left all for you, what will we get?”). Although Jesus promises the disciples rewards at the end of the 19th chapter, he now emphasizes that they must not think of their sacrifices as so great that they look down on others who are also a part of the kingdom, but have not made the same kind of sacrifices. Likewise, it’s a warning to Jewish Christians who, as we know from early church history, looked down upon our ancestors, Christians who had been gentiles. Furthermore, it is a warning for us not to look down on others who have not or cannot make the same sacrifices as we have.[6] Within God’s economy, we’re to do the work which we’ve been called, and should do it without grumbling. As Paul tells the Philippians, we’ve been granted the privilege not only of believing in Jesus but also suffering with him.[7]
Finally and most importantly, “the parable teaches us the amazing grace of a Lord who lifts the last into a place of honor. Those seemingly less effective, the less fruitful little people, the spiritual latecomers are all rewarded. These workers are honored not because they have done enough good works, but because they have a good Lord.[8] We depend on God’s graciousness, not on our work, so whether we labor all day or receive our honor at the end like the thief on the cross,[9] we’re to be thankful for we couldn’t do it on our own!
You know, what others are doing isn’t really our business. God calls us and instead of worrying about our pay, we need to be concerned with whether or not we are doing the master’s work. If we’re only after a free pass into heaven or to get what we can for ourselves, we’re not really disciples and we’re coming to religion for the wrong reasons… We should ask ourselves, “Why would God even give me a chance?” Remember, we could be left in the marketplace, kicking cans and going home at the end of the day with empty pockets. So instead of looking at envy with those who worked fewer hours, we should give thanks that we are given an opportunity to be a part of God’s work in the world.
Think about the times when we have been the one hired on at the 11th hour, those times when we got undeserved breaks. I remember one night; I was driving home on Highway 87 through Elizabethtown, a small city in eastern North Carolina. Like a lot of small towns, they extend out their speed zones, so long after you’ve left the part of town that has street lights and are back on a dark highway, the speed remained 35 miles per hour. And I knew that! I’d driven this road many times before. And I also knew where they police hung out. But for some reason, this night, I wasn’t thinking or paying attention. I began accelerating back to highway speeds of 55. Then blue lights appeared. I knew I was guilty and admitted it. And then, for reasons beyond me, the officer gave me a warning ticket! It was like being hired on at the 11th hour; I was shown more grace than was necessary.
The landowner demands the right to pay on the basis of his compassion, not on the merits of his workers.[10] When we consider that this is a parable about the kingdom and what God has done for us, I think we’ll be glad that God deals with us with compassion and not merit.
If we’d spent the day in the field, we’d feel we were mistreated. But do we really want to live in a world where we are given our due? Where justice is dispensed without any consideration of mercy? In such a world, we’d all be up the creek, for as Paul says, “All have sinned,” and “the wages of sin is death.” But he goes on to say, the gift of God is eternal life in Jesus Christ our Lord.[11] In Paul’s way of thinking, we’re all called to work at the 11th hour and we can give thanks to God for the opportunity.
All good gifts come from God. Accept the gifts you’ve been given with grace and be thankful! Don’t spent time comparing yourself to others for you will find that either your own balloon of blessings will pop, leaving you with an empty feeling. Or, you may assume falsely that just because you have more, you are better. They’re problems with both outcomes! Don’t compare, be grateful! Amen.
©2016
[1] F. Dale Bruner, The Christbook: Matthew 13-28 (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2004).
[2] Genesis 2:15
[3] Douglas R. A. Hare, Matthew: Interpretations, A Commentary for Teaching and Preaching (Louisville, JKP, 1993), 228.
[4] Malachi 3:5, Romans 4:4-5.
[5] Bruner, 317.
[6] Bruner, 317-318. Bruner has four summaries from the passage, but I combined his second and fourth together to create three.
[7] Philippians 1:29
[8] Bruner, 317
[9] Luke 23:42-43
[10] Hare, 230.
[11] Romans 3:23, 6:23.
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
October 16, 2016
1 Timothy 6:3-10
After having spent the summer in the Book of Acts, we’re going to take a break. For the next six weeks, I am preaching on texts that relate to topics in Jeff Manion’s book, Satisfied: Discovering Contentment in a World of Consumption. I hope you will read this book and become involved in one of the discussion groups. The first section of the book is titled, “The School of Contentment.” We’ve all earned at least a Master’s Degree in contentment over the past two weeks! Thankfully, the high storm surges never materialized and the winds weren’t quite as strong as we feared last Friday. There’s nothing like a storm to help us become contented and thankful. When we only have hours to pack, priorities change!
I would like to thank our staff, especially Jim Brown and Betty Gorman, along with the Preschool teachers, who worked hard to prepare the church for the storm. When we locked up the church mid-day Thursday, a week ago, we had taken all the computers and placed them on a table in an inside room, hoping that if we did have storm surge, they would survive. We had water containers filled in case the water system was down when we returned. Jim took the computer server with him as he evacuated and I had the backup hard drive with me. The preschool staff cleared the playground and had all the toys safely secured. We were ready. If you speak to any of the staff, please thank them for what they did to help us prepare. And give God thanks that we were spared any worse damage.
Our passage today is from the 1st Letter to Timothy, chapter 6, verses 3 through 10.
###
Ever seen a U-Haul trailer on the back of a hearse? Well… there are funny people everywhere…
There’s this Frank and Ernest comic strip. The two bums are leaving church after having heard a sermon from this passage. Stopping to speak to the preacher as they exit the building, Frank shakes his hand and says, “you say we came into the world with nothing and we’re leaving with nothing, at least we’re holding our own.” That’s not exactly what this passage is about.
Before I dig into the text, let me give a warning about contentment. It was brought to my attention by one of you, that there are things we ought not to be contented with. I agree. Obviously, we’re all sinners and we are never to be content that we’re good enough. We’re not. We have all, as Paul says to the Romans, “sinned and fallen short of the glory of God.”[1] So while there is much in which for which we’re to be contented, our personal quest for holiness isn’t one. We’re to keep striving to be more Christ-like.
Lately I have been disturbed by the political blame game. We hear the cry, “at least I’m not as bad as he is or she is” way too frequently. I wonder about their upbringings. As a kid, when I tried to justify my actions by saying I wasn’t as bad as another kid, my mother would remind me (sometimes in rather harsh ways) that I was responsible for my own actions. Comparing ourselves to others will either cause us to make light of our shortcomings or cause us to covet what someone else has. Both ways lead to sin. Both destroy our ability to be contented. Instead of worrying about others, we have to focus on Jesus… When we look into a mirror and see Jesus, we’re reminded that we are not perfect. But that’s okay because we’re also reminded that we’ve been forgiven and adopted into God’s family which should make us generous and grateful. That’s why we can be contented even when things are not going our way. That’s why Paul can write to the Philippians, while in chains, urging them to rejoice in the Lord always.[2]
Paul begins by warning against leaders whose teaching is contrary to Jesus’ teachings. He’s concerned that they are causing controversy as they dispute the simple words of our Savior. Some scholars question what words they have been arguing over as the New Testament canon as we know it wasn’t established at this point. Is Paul referring to the actual words Jesus spoke? Or is he referring to the broader message of Jesus, which some are trying to bend to their own advantage? I think it’s the later.[3] His second allegation against such teachers is that they are striving to make a fast buck,[4] as they see “godliness as a mean’s for gain.”
At this point, in verse six, Paul’s argument shifts as he focuses on his main point. Paul often wraps the core of his message in the center, surrounding it by practical guidelines on each side.[5] Godliness is not a bad thing, he notes, and it can lead to profit, but not necessarily a financial profit. Godliness combined with contentment will lead to a satisfied life! Paul quotes a proverb here, which can be found in Scripture, in the Book of Job, and also in secular Greek writings. “We came into the world with nothing, we leave with nothing.”[6] Contrary to what you might have seen, there are no U-Haul’s behind a hearse. We need to be content with what we have and what God has given us. The thinking that “I’d be happy if I only had this or that” is dangerous and can destroy our faith and make us miserable as we strive to gain more and more and are less and less satisfied. What do we really need? Clothes (which for Paul may have meant shelter[7]) along with food, nothing more.
As most of you know, I enjoy backpacking. And if you’ve seen my backpacking equipment, you’ll understand I use it till it no longer works. I still have my old Kelty D-4 backpack, which I used to hike the Appalachian and John Muir trails. I’ve had to change the shoulder straps and waistband a few times. Everything else is original. With backpacking, the less you can carry, the better you enjoy the hike. Sure, I can shoulder a 65 or 75 pound pack, and although I may have many luxuries with me, the trip won’t be nearly as enjoyable as toting a 40 pound pack.
When I was on the Appalachian Trail, this was in the lower part of Pennsylvania, I was camping near a shelter site which had a spring for water. I felt blessed as I was the only person at the site. I set about fixing dinner at the picnic table that was provided. Having a picnic table made this a five star campsite. As I was preparing my meal, a family came hiking in. The mother and father each had huge packs that made mine look puny. The two kids, who were around five or six, had a smaller pack with a stuff animal sticking out of the top. They were exhausted. This was their first family backpacking trip. They’d planned on hiking ten miles that day, but had only done three. The father asked if they could camp in the area. I agreed and pulled all my stuff to one end of the table, allowing them to sit on the other end.
They set up camp and I began to read and catch up with my journal. Then the dad asked if I could show him how all his equipment worked. I went over and saw that he the same stove I had, a multiple fuel version that allowed me to refuel at a gas station. I thought was overkill for someone doing weekend trips. The problem was that he’d left behind his windscreen and potholders that came with the stove as the guy at the store had sold him another windscreen and potholder, which was really nifty. Unfortunately, it went with a different stove. In the pack this windscreen covered a set of nesting pots which were also exclusively designed for the other stove. It wasn’t going to work. I ended up helping him find some rocks to create a windshield and a potholder that would allow him to use his stove. As we were doing this, I spied his other luxury equipment and I thought to myself, the guy at the store must have made a handsome commission selling him stuff he didn’t really need.
I have no idea what happened to this family, if they ever used this equipment again. That night his wife put her foot down and insisted that in the morning they were going to turn around and go home. I hope they took up backpacking again, and that they learned the value of going light. It’s a lesson we could all learn.
Having possessions and nice things isn’t bad, but they do weigh us down. When a hurricane is chewing up the eastern seaboard, what becomes our priority? Paul encourages his readers to be content with what they have—it’s the only way they and we can truly be happy.
Have you ever been to a third-world country and watch children play? They run around and laugh while kicking a soccer ball that looks like it’s been through a few wars. But they’re content and happy, without the latest iPod or computer game.
In verse nine, after having made this point, Paul speaks not just to the church leadership but to everyone, reminding us how our desires can be destructive. Wanting to be rich creates great temptations. Think about that.
One of my favorite books is Guy Owen’s The Ballard of the Flim-Flam Man. It was made into a movie, which I’ve never seen, but the book is wonderful. You’ll laugh till you cry. Mordecai Jones, M.B.S., C.S., D.D. is the Flim-Flam man. The initials after his name stand for Master of Back-Stabbing, Cork-Screwing, and Dirty Dealing. Mordecai joins up with Curly Treadaway, an AWOL soldier. The two travel around Eastern North Carolina, during the tobacco market season, setting up all kinds of scams. Mordecai becomes a father-figure to Curly as he teaches him the rules of the game. They capitalize on greed. “You can’t cheat an honest man,” Mordecai insists. Instead, you let them think they’re cheating you and then you can sell them a bill of non-existing goods. “You can’t cheat an honest man,” but if one is greedy they will fall for all sorts of temptations. Godliness is found in contentment!
Money is not the problem, as we see in verse ten. It’s the “love of money.” Likewise, possessions are not the problem. It’s the love of possessions. Sooner or later money and possessions will have no value. Why waste our love on that which is temporary. Love God, love your spouse, love your children, love one another… That’s what’s important. Don’t waste your love on that which is here today and gone tomorrow.
Today is Homecoming Sunday, a time for us to all celebrate after we come home from summer destinations. But this year, we’re all a bit stressed. We have had two destructive storms in a little over a month. The rhetoric of the presidential campaign is constantly running in the background. Many, myself included, have had medical scares. These are things we have no control over, but they have us all on edge. We all need remember that we’re in God’s hands.
Earlier in the service, we heard the 46th Psalm, in which the Psalmist describes the chaos of the world. And then, in the midst of the turmoil, God calls out to the Psalmist: “Be still, and know that I am God.” We all need to take a few deep breaths, to enjoy one another’s company, and to be content with our blessings. For despite all that tries to destroy the peace, God is still God and we are still his children, and in the end all will be well. If we believe this, we will all graduate with honors from the school of contentment. Amen.
©2016
[1] Romans 3:23.
[2] Philippians 4:4.
[3] J. N. D. Kelly, Commentary on the Pastoral Epistles: Timothy I & II, and Titus (1960, Hendrickson Publishers, 1987), 134.
[4] See 1 Timothy 6:5, The Message
[5] Paul does this frequently in First Corinthians. See Kenneth E. Bailey, Paul Through Mediterranean Eyes: Cultural Studies in 1 Corinthians (Drowers Grove, IL: IVP, 2011).
[6] Variations of the quote can be found in Job 1:21, Ecclesiastes 5:15 and in the Apocrypha (Wisdom 7:6). It can also be found in the writings of Philo and Seneca, in the New Testament (Luke 7:16-21) and in the writings of Hermas. Kelly, 136.
[7] Kelly, 137.
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
October 2, 2016
Acts 18:18-28
Today we’re coming to the end of Paul’s second missionary journey as he leaves Corinth and heads back to his home base. What a trip it’s been. He started out a few years earlier with Silas in Antioch of Syria. If you don’t know where that is, think Aleppo. Antioch was just down the road, by the Mediterranean Sea. Today, it appears Paul leaves Timothy and Silas behind in Corinth. Perhaps, too, he’s leaves behind Luke, for we’re given little insight into the next legs of his journey. We’re only told that he visits Ephesus, then sails to Caesarea before traveling overland to Jerusalem (presumably to check in with the church there), before heading back up through Syria to Antioch, his home base. Let’s listen. Read Acts 18:18-28.
Joseph Mitchell was a reporter for the New Yorker, whose stories from the 1930s through the 50s are filled eccentric characters he met while walking the streets of his adopted city. But he wasn’t from New York. He was born in Fairmont, North Carolina. In addition to his stories of the eccentrics of New York, he wrote of a few of rural people he’d known who were just as eccentric. One was about Miss Copey. Her real name was Copenhagen; her parents named her for a brand of snuff. Mitchell knew her when he was in high school and she was the cook at the restaurant in the train station. She later married Thunderbolt, who had a small watermelon farm in a lonely spot along the river. However, most of his income didn’t come from watermelons, but from his skill at producing some of the best liquor in the county. His occupation required him to live in a secluded place.
At first, Miss Copey was the model wife. Every evening she’d have fried chicken and sweet potato pie waiting for her husband after he came out swamp where he tended his still. This was a fine life for Thunderbold, but loneliness set in for Miss Copey. Searching for some human company, she began attending a Baptist Church that was about a half mile up river. Let me let Mitchell continue with the story:
At that period, which was the autumn of 1926, there was dissension in many rural Baptist churches in the South over the ceremony of immersion. One group believed a convert should be immersed three times face forward in the still water of a pond and the other favored a single immersion in the running water of a river. The opposing groups were called the Trine Forwarites and the Running Riverites. Miss Copy became a church goer merely because she wanted to sing some hymns, but she soon got mixed up in this theological wangle….
Miss Copey joined the running river faction.[1] You know, the church has had disagreements over baptism from the very beginning as we’ll see today. But the church has made it through it all. At times, it seems that the church takes a step or two backwards, but not for long. God’s directing this movement. Remember what I’ve said many times, instead of “Acts of the Apostles,” this book should be called, “The Acts of God through the Apostles.”
Our passage today is a bit rambling, but perhaps that’s appropriate. After all, this is day we celebrate World-wide Communion and Paul, circling around in his travels, covers about the third of the known world of the time. We see that God’s work is happening all over the world. Paul puts in the miles, over land and water, traveling in Europe and Asia. He pretty much covers everywhere between Greece and Jerusalem. All along the way there are pockets of Christians celebrating the meal we’ll be celebrating this morning. This meal, this table, is what unites Christians around the globe.
We’re not really given any details of Paul’s encounters except to learn he visited a barber and that those in Ephesus want him to stay longer. His haircut, which had to do with a vow, has led to all kinds of speculation by scholars and no real consensus.[2] I’m not sure what we can learn from that. The promise he made to the Ephesians, that he’d return if God’s willing, foreshadows what happens in Chapter 19. Paul will spend a significant amount of time there. In addition to Paul’s travels, we witness the work of other important first century missionaries. There’s Priscilla and Aquila and Apollos. God’s work is happening all over the world and it takes all kinds of people to fulfill the mission.
I think our passage in Acts for today, which serves as a bridge between Paul’s activity in Corinth and Ephesus, is to remind us that the spreading of the gospel isn’t all about the heroic works of Paul. Two-thirds of Acts is about Paul, his journeys, his teachings, and his suffering for Christ. But Paul was just one missionary and was limited by what he could do. He wasn’t able to tweet out to everyone, or to drop an email to hundreds of his closest friends, or write a syndicated opinion column to be reprinted in newspapers across the Empire. So while Paul is out traveling and preaching, others are also involved in the sharing of the gospel, as we see in this text with the introduction of Apollos. For us, we should remember that the burdens of the world don’t sit just on our shoulders. God has a way of calling people to his work in the world.
Apollos strives to follow Jesus. He’s gifted with the ability to speak and inspire. He uses this gift to spread the message. Interestingly, because of the elegance of the writing in the Book of Hebrews, of which our Presbyterian Women are studying this year, Martin Luther suggested that Apollos might be the author as the book is anonymously penned.[3]
Sadly, Apollos didn’t have the opportunity to attend seminary and to pass the church’s ordination exams. There are gaps in his education. God’s work is happening all over the world and it takes all kinds of people to fulfill the mission, and not all of these people are perfect! Imagine that! This should give us hope!
Apollos only knows of John’s baptism, which is important, but just a part of the story. John baptized to signify forgiveness, the washing away of sin, but baptism is now more than that. It’s the sign of the New Covenant. Look how Priscilla and Aquila handle this situation. They don’t step up to the mic while Apollos is preaching and say, you got it all wrong. They don’t make him out to be a fool in front of the entire city. Instead, using a technique Jesus lays out,[4] they pull Apollos aside and privately instruct him. We should learn from this example when there are those who’s theology or behavior needs to be tweaked. There is nothing to be gained by making everything public—it only puts the offender on the defensive. Instructing in private helps maintain the dignity of the offender and allows them to change without embarrassment or loss of prestige. Apollos accepts their teaching.
We’re told that Apollos leaves Ephesus, he heads to Achaia, which is a providence in Greece of which Corinth is the capital. He follows Paul, who had just spent a year and a half there. According to our reading here, Apollos has a fruitful ministry in Greece, which is backed up by Paul’s own first letter to the Corinthians. “I planted,” Paul wrote, “Apollos watered, but God gave the growth!”[5]
God’s work is happening all over the world and it takes all kinds of people to fulfill the mission. We can be thankful for such people, but we should also realize that we’re to be a part of God’s mission. Although we’re all to do our part, we don’t have the heavy burden of everything resting on our shoulders. Rejoice for someone in the past taught us about Jesus, and if we do our part, someone will be there to take our place in the future. The church, from its very beginning, has been in capable hands. Jesus called Paul on the Damascus Road. He was a significant missionary, but he wasn’t the only one. There was Barnabas and Mark and Silas and Timothy and now Priscilla and Aquila and Apollos.
Let me say a bit more about Priscilla and Aquila. Do you notice the interesting swamping of names here? In Corinth, when we were first introduced to them, it was Aquila and Priscilla. The husband’s name was first. But for some reason, as they prepared to leave Corinth with Paul, Luke shifts the order of the names and continues, putting the wife’s name before her husband’s, implying that she has a major role as a teacher in the early church.[6] This, I’m sure, raised some eyebrows in the ancient world, but it goes with Paul’s teaching that there is no longer Jew and Greek, slave and free, male and female, for we’re all one in Christ Jesus.[7] It also means everyone in the church is available for God’s work! I don’t know what we’d do without the Presbyterian women and other women groups of the church.
God’s work is happening all over the world and it takes all kinds of people to fulfill the mission. What is God calling you to do to further his kingdom?
Today, as we come to this table, give thanks for those who accept the calling to share the good news of Jesus Christ as we pray for sisters and brothers of the faith around the globe.
©2016
[1] Joseph Mitchell, “I Blame It All on Mama” in Roy Blount’s Book of Southern Humor (New York: W. W. Norton, 1994), 47-48.
[2]Beverly Roberts Gaventa, Acts (Nashville: Abingdon, 2003), 262-263.
[3] F. F. Bruce, The Epistle to the Hebrews (Grand Rapids: Eerdman, 1964), xxxix.
[4] Matthew 18:15-20.
[5] 1 Corinthians 3:6
[6] Gaventa, 265.
[7] Galatians 3:28.
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
September 18, 2016
Acts 17:16-34
Last week, we ended up with Paul leaving Beroea, where a gang was out for his hide. He’s heading to Athens where he plans to wait for Timothy and Silas to catch up with him. This week, we learn of Paul’s experiences in this “university town” of the ancient world. Paul gives us an “evangelism primer.” He shows us how to address a culture at odd to the gospel. Up to this point, Luke has shown us in Acts how the gospel has reach Gentiles and Jews, rich and poor, slave and free, those from Africa, Asia and Europe. But can the gospel hold its own in the intellectual center of the ancient world?[1]
Athens is named for Athena, the goddess of wisdom. This is the city of Socrates, Plato, and Aristotle. It’s a city known for the theater, arts and the Olympics. Although the city’s golden years are the past, it’s still an important place for leaning in the first century. As Paul waits in this city, he looks around. Let’s see what he finds…
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A new couple joined Community Presbyterian Church in Cedar City, Utah about the time we were deep into the planning process for a new church building. I’ll call him Fred, which was not his name. We’d already conducted our first building fund campaign and were moving forward on the project. When someone joins a church, I try to get to know them. I knew, from the new member classes, that they both were articulate in their theology. Both were retired teachers. I didn’t know that Fred had once been an ordained minister in another denomination. That tidbit came out later along with a lot of speculation as to why he was no longer in the ministry.
Fred was very interested in the building project and volunteered to join the committee. He was welcomed to the team. From there, things went downhill. We’d been working together for over a year at this point and Fred came in with all kinds of new ideas. Many of them had merit. But Fred presented his ideas in such an offensive way that soon a struggle between him and the building committee. He called the plan upon which we were working, “stupid.” Every idea he didn’t generate, he lapelled “stupid.” He continued down this path and became further and further isolated from the committee. Soon, everyone was avoiding Fred and eventually he quit the committee. There was a sigh of relief.
Then came the congregational meeting where the committee presented its plans to the church. On that day, Fred came with what might have been called a minority report. After the presentation was made by the committee, Fred asked for the floor. He went on to inform the congregation why the building committee’s plan was stupid (he loved that word) and then presented his own plan. I will have to give the guy credit. Fred put a lot of work into this. He even had a model for his idea of a building. The congregation voted overwhelmingly to stick to the plan presented by the building committee. His was not the way to make friends and influence people
Now let’s compare Fred’s tactics to Paul’s. Paul is in Athens waiting for Silas and Timothy to show up. As he makes his way around the city looking at all the statues and buildings dedicated to the Greek pantheon of gods, he’s greatly disturbed. He brings his concerns to the Jews. They, too, are probably disturbed, as the city was breaking the first two commandments left and right. Paul also takes his concern into the streets and into the marketplace. Some people think he’s out of his mind, a babbler. Others think he’s teaching about foreign gods. Paul is getting his message out and there is some interest in it, as this is a city of ideas. Paul is invited to address a group of scholars. Think of it as a convocation.
Look at what Paul does. He doesn’t open up his Bible to Exodus 20 and read off the opening commandments and begin to proclaim judgment on Athens. He could do that in the synagogue, but these pagan intellectuals have no concept as to what the word of God is about. Instead of starting out his message with his concerns over their idolatry or calling them stupid for worshipping statues of stone and iron, Paul has a surprising trick up his sleeve. He acknowledges their religious piety. Paul is trying to find common ground before he moves on to talking about Jesus. He recalls a statue in the city to “an unknown god, telling his crowd this is whom he’s proclaiming. He speaks of God as the creator, who made everything and doesn’t live inside stone statues. This God is so powerful, he doesn’t even need humans to do his work. Yet, God has made us curious that we might seek him out.
Next, Paul quotes from ancient Greek poets, making the case that we’ve been created by God and thereby are God’s offspring. Paul then, in his carefully constructed rhetorical argument, speaks of how God has ignored human ignorance in the past, but that’s about to change because of a man God has sent. From what we’re told, Paul doesn’t even mention how Jesus died. In fact, he doesn’t even use Jesus’ name. He just insists that he was raised from the dead.[2]
Paul’s preaching gets their attention. Some immediately dismiss his ideas. Others want to know more. A few become believers. Luke provides the name for two believers, a man and a woman. As Luke has been doing in every city, he acknowledges women believers, something which would have been novel in the ancient world. Luke also mentions there are a few other believers, without giving names. We don’t know how many in all, but if Paul was a fisherman, he probably didn’t catch his limit that day. But there are those who lives are changed.
Let me clear up a thing or two here. You’ve probably heard of Paul’s “Mar’s Hill” speech, right? We’ll, this is it. This speech is given on the Areopagus or the Hill of Ares, which was across from the Pantheon. Ares is the Greek god of war, the same as Mars, the Roman god of war. Since Mars Hill is easier to say than the Areopagus, I supposed the name stuck. But most translations today use the Greek name. After all, when in Greece, talk like the Greeks. In Athens, this hill rose some 300 feet above the town and was a place of both judgment and learning. When Paul challenges the idolatry of Athens, he wasn’t being judged as Socrates was five centuries earlier. He’s there to enlighten.[3] Paul’s called because Athenians are curious people. They give him an opportunity to express his views and Paul jumps at the chance.
Paul’s speech in Acts is his first recorded address to a polytheistic audience. Actually, almost all of Paul’s encounters in Acts are with those who are either Jews or Gentiles who are studying Judaism. But here, it appears, the audience is mostly pagan. We’re told that there were two types of philosophers present and Paul’s teachings would have been a challenge to both. The Epicureans felt that God created the world but wasn’t involved in the on-going affairs of the world. They were the partiers; we’re supposed to enjoy this life. They would have agreed with Paul’s first argument (about creation) but not his latter (fear of judgment). On the other hand, the Stoics are, let’s say, stoic. In other words, they tried to control their passions and, instead of being the life of the party, strove to cultivate human virtue (without much laughter). Both groups have objections to Paul’s teaching.
What might we learn from Paul’s ministry in Athens? First of all, Paul shows us that we shouldn’t back away from a culture that we might think is going the wrong direction. Steeped in Jewish piety, he is offend at the idolatry of Athens. But instead of just hiding as he waits his companions, Paul is willing to take a chance and engage the culture. Today, as the church appears to be losing ground in our world, at least in the Western World. We are tempted to pull away and hid inside the church building or our homes. We don’t want to risk letting others know of our faith. Yet, we must understand that discipleship is not a one or two hour a week part-time job. It’s how we live our lives. Jesus sent us out with the calling to be his witness to the ends of the world.[4] It’s impossible to fulfill that calling unless we engage the culture. We must be willing to take a chance. Paul shows us how. We don’t browbeat people. We don’t call them stupid. We have to listen to them and find common ground. We can’t be judgmental, yet they need to see and hear how Jesus makes a difference in our lives. Of course, as Paul found out in Athens, not everyone will be a believer. That’s up to the working of God’s Spirit. But we’re to be faithful, letting our light shine, sowing the seeds of the gospel, and trusting God to give the harvest. Amen.
[1] William H. Willimon, Acts (1988, Louisville: Westminster/John Knox Press, 2010), 143.
[2] Beverly Roberts Gaventa, Acts (Nashville: Abingdon, 2003), 253.
[3] Gaventa, 249.
[4] Acts 1:8, Matthew 28:16.
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
September 11, 2016
Acts 17:1-15
Do you remember the horrific account of ISIS beheading Christians in Libya about a year ago? This past May, in a hearing held by the House Foreign Affairs Committee, Jacqueline Isaac of the humanitarian group, Roads to Success, spoke. She told of having met with 15 of the 21 families who had lost love ones. One of the widows told her that her husband knew it was dangerous to go to Libya, but he needed the work. The last thing he asked his wife before making the fatal journey was that if he didn’t make it back alive to teach their children the principals of Jesus.[1] In the security in which we live, it is hard to remember that there are still people who suffer because of their faith in Jesus Christ. This isn’t anything new as we’re going to see in our reading today.
Last Sunday, we finished up our four week look at Paul and Silas in Philippi. After they were released from jail, they were asked to leave town because the authorities were afraid. It was a serious crime to punish a Roman citizen without due cause, yet they’d been beaten and throw into jail. Leaving town meant there was no more evidence. Paul and his friends take the main road that ran across the Empire, heading west, to the capital of Macedonia, Thessalonica. Here we see more of the same. There are those interested in the message and become believers, then opposition arises. Paul and company flee to another town. Some scholars believe Paul’s first written letter was the first letter to the Thessalonians, for in that letter he refers to his desire to return to the city having been hindered by Satan.[2] Read Acts 17:1-15.
###
I’m sure we all recall what we were doing on this morning fifteen years ago. We were living in Utah so the events started unraveling a little after 7 AM. I was in charge of taking Caroline to daycare that day, but I let her sleep in as I watched in horror and made plans for an evening prayer service. Ever since 911, the world hasn’t been quite the same. Another generation lost its innocence. We are constantly hearing stories like the one I mentioned of the Coptic Christians killed in Libya. Just a few weeks ago, a radical Islamic follower stabbed a priest in France, and this week in the same country the authorities folded a plot to explode a car bomb outside of the famous Notre Dame cathedral.
For the first time in centuries, we find ourselves attacked and essentially in a religious war with a fundamentalist sect of another faith. We are in unfamiliar territory. But Paul and other missionaries in the first century certainly knew what it felt like to be attacked by those with different faith perspectives. We should learn from their response for they changed the world.
On 911, our world was turned upside down. In verse 6 of our reading, the same charge was laid at the feet of Paul and Silas as they travelled through Macedonia. What did their accusers mean? The world that they were turning upside down was the Roman Empire. The Empire saw the Christian faith as a threat to its stability.
There’s an interesting book that was just released this Friday. Obviously I have not had time to read or even acquire it, but I read some advance reviews. The title caught my attention: Destroyer of the gods: Early Christian Distinctiveness in the Roman World by Larry Hurtado.[3] According to the reviews, the book recalls the harsh treatment early Christians received within the Roman world. They were called names and even condemned for being “new.” As the author points out, “novelty wasn’t a Roman virtue.” Despite such attacks, eventually the church prevailed. But it was a life and death struggle.
For followers of Christ, religious piety didn’t depend on maintaining certain pagan or Jewish ceremonies. Instead, adherents of the Christian faith were expected to act differently. They left the old pagan superstitions behind. They claimed that Jesus, not the Emperor, was Lord. When you consider this, you can understand the charge that Christians were “turning the world upside down.” There was some truth to the statement. Hopefully, it’s still true! But too often, I’m afraid, we are part of the status quo. Instead of envisioning and striving for God’s kingdom, we support things as they are (or were).
Let me point out a few things of interest in today’s text. In the first verse, we’re told that Paul and Silas, once they arrived in Thessalonica, went to the synagogue of the Jews. Unlike Philippi, this city has enough of a Jewish presence to have a synagogue, and as Paul has done all along in Acts, it’s his first stop. But the term “Synagogue of the Jews” is new. So far, Luke has only referred to the synagogue, but Paul is now deep in Gentile territory, so Luke modifies the term to indicate the presence of Jews.[4] There, in the synagogue, they spend three Sabbaths arguing over the scriptures. There are those who believe. It’s not just Jews but also Greeks. Interestingly, Luke adds that there were a number of “leading women” of the city also became believers.
As it has happened in city after city, there are those who want don’t want change. They call in a rough group, who start a riot. They look for Paul and Silas, but they’re not to be found. Maybe they had left the city for a short time to speak in the countryside and, when the riot erupts, are unable to return.
Without Paul and Silas, the crowd turns on Jason, who had hosted Paul and Silas in his home. Jason was most likely a Jew as the name Jason was often taken by Jews who lived in Gentile areas. For you see, Jason is the Greek equivalent of the common Jewish name, “Joshua.”[5] Jason’s troubles provide a new twist in our story. It’s not just Paul and Silas being persecuted, but those around them. Again, as in Philippi, the charge become more elaborate when brought before the authorities. One of the charges they have sworn allegiance to a king that isn’t Caesar, is very dangerous. Such a rumor could ruin you in the Roman Empire. Thankfully, the authorities are able to see through the changes and calm the crowds, allowing Jason to return home after he posts bail.
Paul and Silas now move to the city of Beroea. Here we have a different view of the synagogue. In Thessalonica, they had spent their time in the synagogue arguing, but we’re told those in Beroea dig deep into the scriptures, curious to learn the truth. Again, there are those who believe including, we’re told, a number of high standing Greek women and men. It’s interesting that Luke reverses the usual way one would say this. In the patriarchal world of the first century, one would say (as would most of us) men and women, never women and men. Luke is making a point. He emphasizes the importance of women in the early Church.
As it always happens in Acts, opposition again arises. This time it’s not from those within the city, but outsiders. The angry mob in Thessalonica have followed them and began to cause a ruckus. We’ve seen this before, too. Remember how when Paul and Barnabas were in Lystra during his first missionary journey, those from the towns of Antioch and Iconium followed them and stirred up trouble.[6] Luke, as author of Acts, reminds us over and over again what Jesus taught. The gospel will cause division. [7] Not everyone is going to accept the message.
Again, Paul is ushered out of town for safety and heads to Athens, where our story will continue next week.
Paul’s time in these two cities serve as a bridge between the events of Philippi and Athens. Luke provides us with a travel narrative. As I have pointed out, a lot of what happens in these two cities have already happened in other places. It’s like we’re listening to the same track of an old record. There are those who accept Paul’s teachings but opposition soon arises and there is suffering for the faith. The growth of the church was never easy. Yes, on Pentecost, we’re told that there were 3,000 saved, but that seems to be the exception.[8] Afterwards, it’s a few people here, a family or household there. The growth of the church is steady but slow.
By recalling example after example of some accepting the gospel followed by those who fight against it, Luke shows the challenges of going against the prevailing culture. Yet, the church grows because of the faithfulness of those like Paul and Silas. They continue to do the work to which they feel called even when facing obstacles. They feel the leading of God’s Spirit working through them and in the hearts and souls of those who find the message of Jesus appealing.
Today, as in the first century, the church finds itself at odds with the culture. I find it amusing yet sad how different groups try to hijack the church for their own purposes and benefit. Politically, those on the right think they own the gospel, yet seem to make a mockery out of Jesus’ teaching on love, acceptance, and turning the other cheek. The gospel is not about being powerful and forcefully subduing one’s opponents. Paul, writing to the Corinthians, reminds us that the God takes what is perceived as weak and makes it strong![9]
But the gospel is not just a toy of those on the right. Those on the political left are also guilty. They have taken Jesus’ message of love and acceptance, of his call to holiness, and made it into a message of “anything goes.” They tone down the distinctiveness of the Christian life so as not to offend others. Both groups have a part of the truth, but are also guilty of giving us only part of the gospel.
The church, God’s vehicle for sharing the gospel in the world, stands in the gap. We have to resist the lure of both groups and others who claim theirs is the right way. For only Jesus is the right way. We’re to call people into a life-transforming relationship with Jesus Christ. It’s only when we have such a relationship that we can have the courage of that Egyptian dad I mentioned at the beginning of this sermon. His first concern wasn’t his own life, but that his children learn about Jesus. His allegiance was to the one we call Lord.
Christ has purchased us with his own life. He doesn’t belong to us; we belong to him. Christ stands over our culture, bringing judgment. But Christ is also in our culture, transforming it, and offering redemption. We should not look to Jesus to be on our side, for then we have missed the boat. Instead, we must be on Jesus’ side. It won’t be easy, as we have seen with Paul’s struggles, but we’ll be on the right side. Amen.
©2016
[1] http://www.cnsnews.com/blog/michael-w-chapman/christian-father-beheaded-isis-teach-my-children-principles-jesus-christ
[2] 1 Thessalonians 2:18. See F. F. Bruce, The Book of Acts (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1986), 345.
[3] Larry W. Hurtado, Destroyer of the gods: Early Christian Distinctiveness in the Roman World (Baylor University Press, September 9, 2016). The reviews were on the Amazon website.
[4] Beverly Roberts Gaventa, Acts (Nashville: Abingdon, 2003), 243.
[5] F.F. Bruce, The Book of Acts (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1986), 343.
[6] Acts 14:19.
[7] Luke 12:51.
[8] Acts 2:41.
[9] 1 Corinthians 1:26-31.
Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
September 4, 2016
Acts 16:25-40
Today we finish up Paul’s time in Philippi. When we left Paul and Silas last Sunday, they were locked up below the jailhouse. Paul’s accusers were upset with him because he’d freed one of their slaves from a demon which had allowed her to make prophecies about the future. They’d profited from this ability of hers, which was lost once the demon was gone. But that’s not the kind of thing one can take to the police and to have someone arrested. So they trump up charges that Paul and Silas are Jewish agitators, who are disturbing the peace and breaking Roman laws on religion. The crowd joins in and soon the two of them were beaten and taken away to jail. This is where our reading begins. Read Acts 16:25-40.
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It’s been a crazy weekend. I hope you are all recovering from the storm on Friday morning. For many of us, Labor Day will be just that, laboring to clean up everything! Thankfully, no one was hurt, for which we should give thanks. That’s what today’s message is about, giving thanks to God under all circumstances.
You know, people in the Bible do some crazy things. In the book of Daniel, we learn about the Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego taking a stroll inside the fiery furnace even though the guards who threw them into the furnace were cooked just by being too close to its door.[1] And then there is Daniel bedding down with Lions.[2] These young Hebrew men trusted God for their deliverance. They survived safely. But it’s not always that way.
In the Psalms, we hear cries of anguish from the faithful who call out to God for rescue. “Hear the voice of my supplication, as I cry to you for help.”[3] “Be pleased, O God, to deliver me. O Lord, make haste to help me!”[4] “Have mercy upon us, O Lord, have mercy upon us, for we have had more than enough of contempt.”[5] “Out of the depths I cry to you, O Lord, Lord hear my voice!”[6] And of all the Psalms, the one that’s the icing on the cake is the opening of the 22nd Psalm, which Jesus quotes from the cross, “My God, My God, why have you forsaken me. Why are you so far from helping me, from the words of my groaning?”[7]
Notice, the one thing all of these Psalms have in common is that they still look to God for help. The Psalmists don’t abandon God because they know their only hope is with the Lord. They don’t abandon God for they know God won’t abandon them even if things don’t work out the way they think it should. They trust. We see this in the Gospels, when many of the disciples abandoned Jesus. Our Savior asked the remaining disciples why they’re sticking around and Simon Peter answers, “Lord, to whom can we go? You have the words of eternal life.”[8]
Our reading begins with Paul and Silas in prison. We’re not told what happened to Timothy and Luke, who were companions of Paul and Silas at this time, but some suggest it has to do with Paul and Silas Jewish ties. The other two, being Gentiles, may have received a free pass.[9] But Paul and Silas are in jail. Instead of complaining, demanding a lawyer, or threatening the officers who arrested them, they sing hymns. That’s right, sore and beaten, they make joyful noises to the Lord. Legs in stocks and in a cell in which their voices echo, they lift up God’s name in praise. As the cliché goes, “When life gives you lemons, make lemonade.” Singing in chains goes beyond lemonade in my book.
As they sing, God sends a strategic earthquake that opens the doors and loosens the chains. Obviously, their prayers are answered. The door is ajar, the chains securing the stocks have fallen off, and it’s night outside. By sunrise, in this age devoid of fast communication, they could be in another town where they’re not known. This is what we expect. We’ve seen it already in Acts; God’s not beyond a good jailbreak. Back in Chapter 12, an angel freed Peter from jail.[10]
But Paul and Silas don’t run. They stick around and see that the jailer, who is about to do himself in for having let prisoners escape. Paul cries out and reassures him that none of the prisoners have escaped. This witness, sticking around when he could have run, is such a testimony that leads the jailer to ask Paul what he needs to do to be saved. How did he know to ask? Perhaps he heard the slave girl, the one’s whose deliverance resulted in their arrest, going around saying that these men are proclaiming the way of salvation.[11]
The jailer and his family become the third occasion for the power of Jesus to be experienced in Philippi. By sticking around, Paul and Silas saves his life. If they’d escaped, he’d either done himself in or would have been “done in” by the Roman authorities. But now he realizes there is something these jailbirds who have been singing all night have that he wants. “What must I do to be saved?” Paul tells him the good news, and he accepts Jesus Christ. He and his family are baptized and everyone is happy that he’s now a believer. He’s twice saved this night. In return, and in gratitude for his experience of salvation, he nurses the wounds of Paul and Silas and feeds them, but he can’t let them go free. That has to happen through the courts, which won’t be long in coming.
In the morning, when the authorities learn that Paul was a Roman citizen, the trump card he’s holding in his back pocket, the judge is more willing to release them. They want them out of town. Treating a Roman citizen in the way Paul had been treated was a grave offense, and they want the evidence gone. But Pal and Silas demand to be released publicly, not secretly, and before they leave town, they visit Lydia and the other believers who are gathered at her house. They want to reassure and encourage them before they leave.
The story of Paul and Silas in Philippi has all the necessary components for a movie. There are joyous and sad occasions. The outcome is always shifting, making you guess what’s going to happen. So much of life is like this—our hopes are shattered yet the troubling times lead us to new discoveries. Like Paul and Silas, we need to count our blessings and keep our eyes on Jesus and make the best out of things even when the world seems stacked against us.
One of my favorite actors is Robert Duvall. Back in the 90s, he directed and starred in The Apostle. The movie was about Sonny, a preacher who in a fit of jealous rage strikes out with a baseball bat at the head of his wife’s lover. The man dies and Sonny is on the run. Sonny has always talked to Jesus, and he does plenty of this as he tries to recreate himself. He slowly makes his way back into a new ministry as he helps out folks who are down-and-out. Things begin to look up for Sonny, but he’s still a fugitive. It’s just a matter of time before he’s discovered by the law. The movie ends with his arrests, but then as the credits run, we’re giving a vision of Sonny in the future. He’s working on a chain gang. The convicts are all chained together, with swing blades, cleaning out a ditch. And as they swing, Sonny sets the tempo as he sings a litany of God’s praises. He other prisoners join him.
Later in his ministry career, the Apostle Paul wrote to the Philippians while imprisoned, encouraging them to “Rejoice in the Lord Always.”[12] Many of those reading the letter may have recalled Paul’s singing in the local jail. Paul advices us to always trust God. It helps us maintain a better attitude and more importantly, it allows us to have a more effective witness for Christ. Do we? Do we trust God enough to always rejoice, to praise God in times of plenty and in want, good and bad? Remember how Paul and Silas acted in prison and the next time you face disappointment or a setback in your life, give thanks! There can be no better witness for our faith in Jesus that to be grateful even when things are not exactly going our way. May our hearts always sing God’s praises. Amen.
©2016
[1] Daniel 3:19ff.
[2] Daniel 6:10ff.
[3] Psalm 28:2.
[4] Psalm 70:1.
[5] Psalm 123:3.
[6] Psalm 130:1.
[7] Psalm 22:1, Matthew 27:46, Mark 15:34.
[8] John 6:67-68.
[9] See F. F. Bruce, The Book of Acts (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1986), 335.
[10] Acts 12:6ff.
[11] Acts 16:17.
[12] Philippians 4:4 (for Paul’s imprisonment, see Philippians 1:13).