Sermon

Sermon

March 18, 2018:  Rev Anna Fulmer

We are going ahead in time. Palm Sunday might be next week, but here, in the Scripture it has happened. Before this passage in Mark, Jesus has paraded into Jerusalem. He has cleansed the temple. Right before this, in the temple the chief priests, scribes, and elders come to Jesus and question his authority. Right after, in the temple, Jesus tells this parable and flips the accusations onto them. Let us read now from:

Mark 12:1-12

Imagine this: you live in a culture where everyone owns land. In fact, your family was given a piece of land when they came into the Promised Land. It was part of God’s promise to you and to all of the other families and tribes. Everyone farms. You grow everything you eat, and most years, you grow enough to survive. But one year crops did not come in properly. There was no rain, and so your crops shriveled and died. So you borrowed some food from your neighbor a few miles away; you worked for someone else. But then the next year was a bad year and then the next. Eventually, you are in major debt. You cannot pay back all of the food and seed you have borrowed. You become a debt slaves, working on a neighbor’s land then tending to your own late at night. But you refused to sell your land; your land is sacred. It is a gift from God. It is more than just land. The only way you will get out of debt is through your land; it is your only hope. But eventually, the wealthy start taking the poor’s land, amassing big properties, and building big farms. Vineyards. They started growing cash crops, like grapes for wine, olives for oil—foods that were for the elite. And so, because of your debt, your land is taken. You have no hope; no future. You have no more rights; there’s no way to make enough to survive working on another person’s land. With little hope, what would you do?

This was the reality for many in ancient Israel. In order for us to understand this parable, we have to know a little bit about the economics of Israel and of another vineyard, the Lord’s vineyard in Isaiah 5. Jesus takes Isaiah’s image of a vineyard and twists it. In Isaiah’s time and Jesus’ time, injustice is all around. The wealthy start taking the poor’s land. It caused a huge disruption in the economics laid out by God originally, and it started major forms of exploitation. If you had no land in Israel, you could not get out of poverty. Because wealth is tied to land. Fewer and fewer peasants owned land, and so they become further degraded and victimized.

Both landowners in Isaiah and Mark are wealthy and their wealth comes at the price of another’s suffering. A man in Israel could only acquire land to build a vineyard by taking it from someone else, by foreclosing on the loans of poor peasants. And only the wealthy would plant something like grapes. You must wait four years before vineyards will begin harvesting grapes good for wine. This man in Mark has power; he has money; he has time. This vineyard used to be someone else’s land, and now they probably are working on that land, their land, just as a debt slave or sharecropper. How hard would that be! I would want to rebel too and get my land back! Isaiah speaks out against the people for what they are doing to God’s vineyard—he warns them that God will make this vineyard, their vineyards into wastelands, because “God expected justice, but saw bloodshed; righteousness, but heard a cry!” (Isaiah 5:7).

Everyone in Israel knew about these practices of taking the poor’s land. They also knew who was wealthy enough to own these large vineyards—people like the chief priests, elders, and scribes. These three groups are the “institutional trinity,” and all of them are present for this parable. These people are powerful; they are the educated of the society. They are wealthy. And they have achieved this wealth through taking the land, the birthright, the livelihood of a peasant. Their plan in coming to Jesus is to expose him, but the tables are turned in this parable and Jesus exposes these leaders’ fake piety and practices.

It’s pretty obvious who is who in this parable. God plants a vineyard. He leases it to tenants, to the priests, elders, and scribes. I wonder if the people of Israel could even be this vineyard, the harvest. When it is time to collect a share, God sends slaves, prophets. Over and over the prophets are ignored. The tenants refuse to share. They refuse to give to God what is God’s. They do not do justice. “God expected justice, but saw bloodshed; righteousness, but heard a cry!” (Isa 5:7). These prophets are beaten, insulted, and sent away empty handed. Some are killed. Finally, God sends his beloved son, “They will respect my son.” It seems like a ridiculous idea. If these angry tenants have killed your slaves, of course it is not going to end better for your son! And so, the tenants thinking that they will secure their own power and prestige and their right to Israel, they kill Jesus. They throw him out of the vineyard, without even a proper burial.

At this juncture I am sure everyone listening was breathless. Jesus places the religious elite, the landowners in the place of the lowly tenant. He reverses their situation. He demotes them. He says over and over they disrespect the land, the Scriptures, the people, and God through their treatment of the people and the land. They claim to be holy, but they have forgotten what God says about justice–treating your neighbors with respect, helping the poor, giving back land in the year of Jubilee, and more. The abuse of power in the old order needed to be critiqued, and so Jesus does. “God expected justice, but saw bloodshed; righteousness, but heard a cry!” (Isa. 5:7). Everyone would have known what Jesus was talking about.

At this point, Jesus ask, “What then will the owner of the vineyard do?” The world’s answer is the first answer that Jesus gives—its almost a rhetorical answer–“He will come and destroy the tenants and give the vineyard to others.” When tenants rebelled, this is what the powerful did. They squash the rebellion. They kill the insurgents. This is how the wealthy landowners like the scribes, elders, and high priests treated their tenants. If the parable ended now, it would be a parable of retribution—a life for a life. When tenants rebel, kill them. If it ended this way, the parable might be called “the parable of the vengeful landowner.” But Jesus does not end with that answer. Instead, he offers an alternative to the violence that we see in our world, the cycle of violence that the crowd, scribes, priests, and elders were living.

The stone is rolled to the forefront. Jesus says, “Have you not read this scripture, ‘The stone that the builders rejected has become the cornerstone; this was the Lord’s doing, and it is amazing in our eyes?’” The stones that are cast off, murdered, and forgotten, the stones that are deemed unworthy, the stones that seems too small, too poor, too unruly. They are the cornerstone. Our rejected stone, Jesus is restored and redeemed. It is set-apart for an amazing purpose. God intervenes in our violent world. God says, enough. God takes the bloody and battered stone, and God redeems it. Here we see, that “God preferred an Israel in the image of a man who died on a Roman cross because the leadership of his own people feared the kind of Israel his life and work envisioned.” Jesus offers a future portrait of Israel and its completely different than what it has been.

In a single story, Jesus tells the story of our broken and violent world. He charges the leaders in being involved in it, and he predicts his own death at the hands of such violence. In just one more chapter, he will predict the destruction of the temple, stone by stone. All will be gone. But this violence is not the last word. God takes the wreckage, and builds something altogether new. From the wreckage, the rejected stone becomes the cornerstone.

God expects justice today. Yet still, there is bloodshed and crying. Many people in our world are riddled under unsurmountable debt. Many in our world live paycheck to paycheck. Many do not have enough to eat. Many barely make enough to survive working someone else’s land. Through this parable, even our own country and world’s economic practices are examined and critiqued. God is watching how we treat God’s vineyard, our neighbors—those suffering and rejected. May we be honest about our shortcomings and failures. May we recommit to doing God’s justice—even when it comes at a great price. “For the stone that the builders rejected has become the cornerstone.” Let us trust in our cornerstone, our rock and redeemer. Amen.

Scripture

Then he began to speak to them in parables, “A man planted a vineyard, put a fence around it, dug a pit for the winepress, and built a watchtower; then he leased it to tenants and went to another country. When the season came, he sent a slave to the tenants to collect from them his share of the produce of the vineyard. But they seized him, and beat him, and sent him away empty-handed. And again, he sent another slave to them; this one they beat over the head and insulted. Then he sent another, and that one they killed. And so it was with many others; some they beat, and others they killed. He had still one other, a beloved son. Finally he sent him to them, saying, “They will respect my son.” But those tenants said to one another, “This is the heir; come, let us kill him, and the inheritance will be ours.” So they seized him, killed him, and threw him out of the vineyard. What then will the owner of the vineyard do? He will come and destroy the tenants and give the vineyard to others. Have you not read this scripture: “The stone that the builders rejected has become the cornerstone; this was the Lord’s doing, and it is amazing in our eyes? When they realized that he had told this parable against them, they wanted to arrest him, but they feared the crowd. So they left him and went away.

This is the Word of the Lord. Thanks be to God.

Sermon

YOUTH SUNDAY SERMONS

March 11, 2018:  Andrew Ayers

John 8:1-11 is a very plain passage with a simple meaning. Jesus just tells us to not be hypocritical and not to judge sinners because we are sinners too. I really don’t see a reason to talk about this story much more… *Laughter*. In reality, this passage is just opening the door to reasoning and thought that is hidden deep in it. At first glance I thought this passage was calling us to not judge and leave sinners alone. That’s what the elders did. They said nothing and walked away. I’m sure for us it would be easy to just walk away and say nothing. Jesus doesn’t just walk away. He stands with her until the last Pharisee leaves. He then says to her “where are they? Does no one condemn you?” She replies “no” and then Jesus says “neither do I”. I thought about this and I realized something. What did Jesus tell the Pharisees about throwing the stones?… He said “He who is without sin cast the first stone”. In essence he is saying if you are sinner then you cannot condemn another sinner. But, Jesus is perfect… he is without sin. Jesus spoke a lot, but most of the time his actions spoke louder than his words. He did not cast a stone even though (in his words) he was the only one qualified to do so. Jesus saved this woman’s life. She got a second chance. I am sure that she did not take it for granted.

In my life I find hard to not let first impressions be a factor in my perception of them. I find it hard sometimes to see people on a deep level. A level that takes a lot of conversations. Some of these conversations are hard. But the difficult conversations are the ones the reap the most reward because knowing a person and Knowing a person are very different. Jesus Knew this woman. He Knew that she was good and that she knew she made a mistake. What if every time you made a mistake someone stoned you. We wouldn’t be here.

I also think it’s interesting to think… Why do we condemn others? The Pharisees were obviously condemning this girl to test Jesus. They knew that adultery was punishable by stoning, and thought they had Jesus cornered. When asking him “what shall we do?” they expected one of two answers. They thought Jesus might say “Don’t stone her.” To which they would reply “But it is written in the law that adulterers must be stoned.” If Jesus didn’t say that they thought he might say “Stone her.” To which they would reply “ You mean to tell us to stone this poor girl??”   Jesus knew what was going on and in his Jesus fashion he turned the whole situation around and pointed the finger at them. He made them see themselves and evaluate what they were doing. The Pharisees reason for condemnation is apparent, but the question still remains… Why do WE condemn? I first think we condemn because as humans we are selfish and self-fulfilling. As humans we feel better when we think we are above someone. We feel better knowing that we taught someone a lesson. It gives a sense of power and its only human nature to want power. Right?? Sometimes that might be the case… sometimes we condemn others out of hatred or jealousy. Sometimes we condemn others because that is the socially acceptable thing to do.

Does Jesus condemn this woman? I thought about this and even now I really don’t know. He says to her “from now on don’t sin”… but is that condemnation? I think condemnation has a negative connotation… CONDEMNATION *low bellowed voice*… I think the reason it carries negativity is because who wants to be told they did something wrong? I know that when I’m scolded at home I’m not thinking “My parents are doing this in my self interests… ?” I’m usually thinking other rebellious teenager things like “Mooooooommmmm”. I think that if we think of Jesus telling this woman not to sin as a positive thing I think it makes this story a little more meaningful. He wasn’t scolding her for sinning. He was inviting her into a new way of living, a second chance. He was telling her she was ok. She was forgiven. Jesus did this a lot in the Bible he even did it for me and all of you. Christ FORGIVES!

March 11, 2018:  Bryan Ayers

When I read John 8:1-11, I wonder what it would like to be a bystander in the crowd. Jesus was teaching a crowd of people when he is interrupted by the teachers of the law and the Pharisees. They brought forth a woman and told Jesus and the crowd that she had been caught in the act of adultery. Because of that, she should be stoned to death. What would I do? Would I have thought stoning the woman was the right thing to do? I hope not, but thankfully Jesus was there with his compassion, understanding and knowledge. He stopped it from happening. Jesus is here with us too.

Jesus has been there for me too throughout my life. Coming into the world wasn’t easy for me. First, I was forced to share a womb with my twin brother, Andrew. Then, during my mom’s labor, my heartbeat was lost completely. The nurse called a “Code Blue,” and she rushed us into the emergency delivery room so my brother and I could be delivered as quickly as possible. A team of doctors had us out in less than ten minutes. My brother was fine, but I was in critical condition. I was taken to Children’s and Woman’s Hospital where I recovered after a month in neonatal intensive care. I grew up knowing that it was a miracle that I lived through that ordeal. Jesus was there. Knowing that helps me to appreciate and understand that even though the odds in life may be stacked against me, anything in this world is possible. Jesus can stop stones.

Jesus has been there for me through my friends, family, and church. But there is one particular friend who reminds me of God’s presence. I can tell her anything and she responds to all of it. She does not miss a thing. It shows me that she is interested in all of what I say. I see her almost everyday and if I have any troubles, she helps me see the good in everything. She has a beautiful heart. She is there for me. She reminds me I am not alone, Jesus is there too. Because I can trust God, I can face my problems. No stone is too large for God. Joshua 1:9 says it a little differently than John, “Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go.” I find comfort in these words and our Scripture from John. We are never alone. Jesus is there. We can rest and see the good. Amen.

March 11, 2018:  Haley Harrell

At first glance one of the most prevalent passages of scripture can seem like the Netflix description of a modern day soap opera. A woman caught in the act of adultery, a place were the privileged escape unscathed and the less fortunate are punished, but at the very core of this passage is a very familiar place for all of us as Christians. This story is about a sinner who has been placed at the feet of our Lord. This is a place each and every one of us who is a follower of Christ has been and must go to truly understand and experience the promise of eternal life. John describes 2 voices that speak on our sins. I like to call those voices critics and Christ. The critics are the people around you who judge and condemn you for your sins, the people who make you guilt grow. The motives of the Pharisees were not to purify their society by ridding their town of a sinner, their intentions are to not only entrap a woman to destroy her life but to also to challenge Jesus by putting him between a rock and a hard place, literally. Then there is the voice of Christ, he sees thru the facade and recognizes the Pharisees are challenging him. he draws in the sand for hours trying to develop a way to address the situation in the most morally correct way that also obeys the laws of the Old Testament. Jesus tells them that “he who is without sin let him first cast a stone at her” one by one they put down their stones and left the adulteress at the feet of Jesus. It is in this moment that he emphasizes that no one can live a sinless life. When you yourself are at the feet of Christ, in contrast to your critics, he shows you mercy and gives you direction and the ability to learn from your mistakes. The stones we cast on the people around us can dramatically change their lives. In the past 4 years of high school I have lost 3 very close friends. All of which took their own lives because of the stones other people threw. If the peers of those 3 children reflected on the mercy god has shown them and put down their stones maybe they would still be here today. We all fall short from the glory, so when you are in situation where you begin to throw stones and place labels, reflect back on this story, reflect back on the times you have strayed from the kingdom but god has shown you mercy, because no guilt is to great for our god and no soul is too far gone.

March 11, 2018:  Liam Harper

When I read this passage, a thought kept coming up. “The crowd put down their stones to pick up their rocks; Christians should set down their stones to pick up their rocks. Be each other’s rocks.”

I like to use symbolism for this saying. I say that rocks and stones are two different symbols; stones are our sins, while rocks are our faith. Rocks are our support system. As rocks we are called to lift people up. Stones, especially when thrown, bring people down and hurt them.

In this passage, the focus is on stones instead of rocks. But Jesus changes the focus. He stoops down and refuses to engage. Huddled on the ground, Jesus even kind of looks like a rock. Jesus turns the focus around to where it should be, on our rock and redeemer. Jesus was above the Pharisees and teachers of the law, all of whom should have known the law front and back, yet he stoops down.

We hear in the beginning that the Pharisees and teachers of the law brought the woman from this story in order to try to trap Jesus so they could accuse him of something. But they ignore the law. Given that they knew, or should have known about what the law said, their desire to trap Jesus makes them ignore the law. Ironic, right? The fact that they ignore what they knew to be right reminds me of a few situations in my life where others were against me, even those I once thought of as a friend.

I once was friends with a guy at my school. We can call him Matt. Matt was one of my first friends when I came to my current school. We got very close, or so I thought. I trusted him. Unfortunately, he turned on me in the end. Matt vented his problems to me during the first year I knew him, and I listened. I was there for him. But at the start of my sophomore year, I started to come to terms with the fact that the friendship we once had was done. Everything I did, Matt criticized and made fun of me for. And I let him for a time. I let Matt bully me, and I convinced myself it wasn’t as bad as it actually was. I kept hanging out with Matt, long after I should have cut ties. I kept trying to be his friend, because I thought he needed a friend, and I wasn’t going to let him be alone. This went on for the rest of that year.

In the beginning of my junior year, the relationship we had was the same—Matt kep saying mean and hurtful things. But then one day, I decided I had had enough. So I cut ties. It was a toxic relationship. Afterwards, I felt better about myself. I was happier. From his stones, I was made better by God, my Rock. God brought other rocks, other people in my life too. They became my rocks, as I am their’s.

To be Christian means to be Christ-like. We can never fully measure up to Jesus, and can never repay our debt to him. God won’t put us in any situation he knows we can’t overcome. He loves us.

Jesus’ reply intrigues me. He bent down and wrote on the ground. He is hunched over, rounded out, kind of like a rock. We don’t know what he wrote, but it must have been effective, because all the accusers left after Jesus’ reply. Jesus knows our hearts and minds. He knows us in our entirety, and he still loves us. He is our Rock. So let us go out and be each other’s rocks, strong, steady, and full of love. Amen.

Scripture

John 8:1-11

While Jesus went to the Mount of Olives.  Early in the morning he came again to the temple.  All the people came to him and he sat down and began to teach them.  The scries and the Pharisees brought a women who had been caught in adultery; and making her stand before all of them, they said to him, “Teacher, this woman was caught in the very act of committing adultery.  Now in the law Moses commanded us to stone such women.  Now what do you say?”  They said this to test him so that they might have some charge to bring against him.  Jesus bent down and wrote with his finger on the ground.  When they kept on questioning him, he straightened up and said to them.  “Let anyone among you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone at her.”  And once again he bent down and wrote on the ground.  When they heard it, they went away, one by one, beginning with the elders; and Jesus was left alone with the woman standing before him.  Jesus straightened up and said to her, “Woman, where are they?  Has no one condemned you?”  She said, “No one, sire.”  And Jesus said, “neither do I condemn you.  Go your way, and from now on do not sin again.”

This is the word of the Lord.

Thanks be to God.

Sermon

Marach 4, 2018:  Rev. Dr. Buz Wilcoxon

3rd Sunday of Lent

It is not by accident that Jesus takes his disciples here, to Caesarea Philippi, a city devoted to the worship of conquering Roman emperors to asks them about his identity. “Who do people say that I am?” What’s the word on the street? What’s trending on Facebook or Twitter? What are people saying? Then Jesus turns the question on them, “Ok, but who do you say that I am?” Don’t just tell me what’s out there, tell me what’s in here. I don’t want to hear the popular opinion or what is polling well, I want you to tell me what you really believe. I imagine there was a long pregnant silence while the disciples weighed their thoughts. Did they truly know? Could they put it into words?

Part 1, the rock

Then Peter opens his mouth. As he so often does. Peter says, “You are the Messiah, the Son of the Living God!” You are the long awaited savior. You aren’t just a prophet, you are the one about whom the prophets have been speaking for centuries. You are God’s own Son. Peter’s confession of faith is the first time that this honest truth about Jesus is spoken. Peter gets it right, more right that he can even comprehend. You are the Messiah. You are the Son of the living God. It’s a risky confession to make, blasphemous in the eyes of many, and it is honest to God true.

Jesus responds with praise: “Blessed are you Simon…you are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church.” So this sentence requires us to slow down and pay attention to a few things. First, up to this point in the gospel, Jesus’ good friend has gone by the name of Simon, but here, Jesus renames him Peter. Giving someone a new name is a divine act. It’s what God does to Abraham, and to Jacob in the Old Testament. This act of renaming says something about who Peter is, but it also says something about who Jesus is and the divine authority that he claims.

Here’s the thing about Peter’s new name– in Greek it is “Petros,” which is a pun, because the Greek word for rock is “petra.” Jesus says, You are Petros and this will be my petra. Peter’s new name is the ancient version of “Rocky.” I tried to get Randy to play the Rocky theme song today, but he was too wise fall for that. [Randy plays the Rocky theme song here!]

Jesus says, your new name is Petros and I am going to build my church on this solid rock of the truth that you have spoken. Now, this is a place where Protestants and Catholics tend to interpret the scripture differently. Jesus doesn’t say that Peter himself will be the foundation of the church, but rather that his statement of truth, his confession of Jesus as messiah and son of God, that message will be the bedrock of the community of faith that is to come.

This is a very important moment not only for Peter’s life, but for all of us who follow in his footsteps, the church throughout the ages. This is the first time in the gospel that the word “church” shows up in the gospel. All of us, the church universal, the whole community of faith–we are right here with Peter in this moment, encountering Jesus and claiming this truth about him. And what does Jesus say about us, about the church he’s going to build? He says, “The gates of Hades will not prevail against it.” Death stands no chance against the ministry of the Church of Jesus Christ. That tyrannical king of the world, that emperor who seeks to claim all of human life, Death and his kingdom will crumble and fall before the words of truth that Peter speaks that we still confess to this day.

Part 2, the stumbling block

This is a high and holy moment if there ever was one. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if the story just ended there…but it doesn’t. Because, you see, Jesus keeps on talking. Now that his disciples know who he really is, he begins to teach them about the suffering and pain and death that he has to endure once he gets to Jerusalem. It’s too much for Peter to handle. And so, yet again, Peter opens his mouth. He pulls Jesus aside and says, “Hold on there buddy. Didn’t I just say, like six verses back, that you were the Messiah and the Son of God. You are God’s great champion, the one who is supposed to lead us into triumph and victory. Nothing can hurt or harm you. So what’s all this crazy talk about suffering and dying. Do you even hear what you’re saying?” Peter rebukes Jesus. Rebukes. That’s a powerful word. It has appeared before in the gospel. Jesus rebukes demons when he casts them out of sick people. Jesus rebukes the wind and the waves when he calms a storm at sea. Now Peter tries to rebuke Jesus. And look where it gets him. Peter cannot handle all this talk about suffering and death. Peter doesn’t want to face the Gates of Hades if this is what it requires!

This time, Peter gets it wrong—really really wrong. And Jesus speaks the harshest words we will hear out of his mouth: “Get behind me, Satan! You are a stumbling-block to me.” Wow, that was quick! Peter went from being the Rock to the stumbling block so fast it could give us theological whiplash. He spoke the truth, he confessed Jesus’ real identity…in part. But he could not handle it in whole. He could conceive of Jesus as Lord and Messiah, but not as Suffering Servant. He wanted to follow a victorious leader, not a criminal condemned to die. He wanted glory and power without suffering. He wanted fellowship without hardship. He wanted Easter without Good Friday. And don’t we all!

Each and every one of us, if we are honest—wouldn’t we rather be rescued from death than follow a dying Lord. But the deep mystery, the scandal of the gospel is that God’s power and grace are revealed in suffering. That Jesus must endure death for it to be defeated.[i]

Some days, maybe on our best days, we can honestly confess that Jesus is the Messiah, the Lord, the Son of the Living God. We want to follow him in life, we want to follow him into heaven, but we don’t really want to have to pass through the gates of Hades. Our faith is rocky. Our church is rocky. And in the blink of an eye we find ourselves falling flat on our faces in fear, cringing back to our old ways of life, serving as stumbling blocks to others. We, like Peter, become tempters to those who want easy discipleship and a risk-free faith. We, like Peter set our mind not on divine things but on human things. And we come falling down like a rock, crashing to the ground.

Part 3, the church and the cross

One of my good friends in high school was a guy named Seth Goodson. He actually ended up becoming a pastor as well, but when we were in high school he was a basketball player. He was ok on offense and better on defense, but there was one thing that Seth was absolutely brilliant at—taking charges. Now, if you’re not familiar with the rules of basketball, when a defensive player comes to a complete stop with both of their feet planted in place, then the offensive players have to go around them. Otherwise, of the offense player bumps into or pushes over the still defender, it is considered a charge and the other team gets the ball. Taking a charge, is an art form. If you stand still too early and give the other team too much time to react, they’ll just go around you. But if the defensive player waits too late and is still moving at the time of contact, then they are charged with a foul. Taking a charge requires reading the movement on the court and slipping it at just the right time. And of course, being willing to get pushed over and fall flat on your back for the sake of helping your team. If taking charges is an art form, them my friend Seth was Leonardo Divinci. He was a master at knowing just when to slip into place, plant his feet, and get pushed over.

By the time we were seniors, word had spread that Seth was getting close to setting the state record for taking the most charges in a high school career. He picked up a few more each game, and when he was just one or two away from the record our gym was packed to watch the next game. It happened in an ordinary moment. Our guys took a shot and missed it. The other team got the rebound and was coming down the court quickly. They were driving toward the basket when all of the sudden, Seth slipped into the exact right spot at the exact right time and got pushed down to the ground. The referee blew his whistle and gave the signal that a charge had been committed and the crowd went ballistic! We screamed like we had just won a championship. Seth had set the record! The next day the front page of the sports section had a big picture of him in the act of falling down, right as his rear end hit the floor. I showed it to him and said, “Seth, man, you’re famous!” He said, “Yeah, great, famous for getting pushed over more times than anyone else. I’m not sure how I feel about that.”

In a sense, that’s precisely what Jesus invites us to do here in this scripture: not to be a stumbling block in our own weak, selfish, fearful attempts to defend and preserve our own lives and livelihoods. But to take a fall, to take a charge. To be willing to be pushed over and over and over, to suffer for the sake of others, for the sake of the gospel. Jesus says, ““If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For those who lose their life for my sake will find it.” That’s the kind of Church that’s built on the rock of Peter. That’s the rocky kind of church that we have been throughout the ages.

In one of the very first sermons preached to the group that would become Spring Hill Presbyterian Church, a young seminary graduate named John Leith preached a sermon on this scripture and the kind of church that is called to follow the way of the cross. It was 1943, right in the midst of World War II. He said, “The church that shall survive this day of death will be the church that speaks not the language of this world but of the kingdom of God. It will be a church ready to die for her witness and that the world counts worthy of crucifixion…To bear such a witness will be to go against the grain of the world, to come in conflict with the [idols] of racial prejudice, of national pride, of greed and militarism. It may be that the world will crucify her, but in the language of another world her Master says, ‘Those who lose their life for my sake will find it.’”^[ii]

Peter’s story didn’t end with that high holy moment of confessing the truth. But neither did it end when he fell flat on his face. No, his story continued in its rocky path with moments of failure and fear and moments of truth and love. Ultimately, tradition tell us, Peter’s story took him to Rome, to the royal gates of the emperor Nero where he was put to death for his faith, literally following Jesus onto a cross himself. “Pick up your cross and follow me,” Jesus says, because “on this rock I will build my church.” That’s the hard part of the gospel. And in a deep, mysterious way, it’s also the deep, deep good news of the gospel—that the gates of Hades cannot prevail against us.

Thanks be to God! Amen.

[i] Stanley P. Saunders, Preaching the Gospel of Matthew: Proclaiming God’s Presence, 163.

[ii] John Leith, “Life in the Shadow of Death,” sermon preached at Spring Hill Preaching Service, July 18, 1943 included in Pilgrimage of a Presbyterian: Collected Shorter Writings, edited by Charles E. Raynal, 2001, page 6.

Scripture

Matthew 16:13-23

¹³ Now when Jesus came into the district of Caesarea Philippi, he asked his disciples, ‘Who do people say that the Son of Man is?’ ¹⁴And they said, ‘Some say John the Baptist, but others Elijah, and still others Jeremiah or one of the prophets.’ ¹⁵He said to them, ‘But who do you say that I am?’ ¹⁶Simon Peter answered, ‘You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God.’ ¹⁷And Jesus answered him, ‘Blessed are you, Simon son of Jonah! For flesh and blood has not revealed this to you, but my Father in heaven. ¹⁸And I tell you, you are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church, and the gates of Hades will not prevail against it. ¹⁹I will give you the keys of the kingdom of heaven, and whatever you bind on earth will be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth will be loosed in heaven.’ ²⁰Then he sternly ordered the disciples not to tell anyone that he was the Messiah.

²¹ From that time on, Jesus began to show his disciples that he must go to Jerusalem and undergo great suffering at the hands of the elders and chief priests and scribes, and be killed, and on the third day be raised. ²²And Peter took him aside and began to rebuke him, saying, ‘God forbid it, Lord! This must never happen to you.’ ²³But he turned and said to Peter, ‘Get behind me, Satan! You are a stumbling-block to me; for you are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things.’

Then Jesus told his disciples, “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will find it.

Sermon

February 25, 2018:  Dr. Peter H. Hobbie, Professor Emeritus of Religion, Presbyterian College

Festival of Faith Sunday Service

My brother, who was a Presbyterian minister in Concord, North Carolina, would trade pulpits once a year with a near by African-American Methodist Episcopal minister. My brother always looked forward to these occasions. He enjoyed for a single week every year hearing a congregation that vocally responded to his sermon. One year the response from the congregation began a little earlier than he expected. He announced that the scripture lesson came from the Gospel of Matthew, and before he could say another word, a voice from the congregation responded: “Look out!” Certainly we need to look out when we consider the passage from Matthew this morning. So many of us come to church looking for consolation and comfort.

“Had a tough week, we’re open on Sundays!” says a popular Presbyterian bumper sticker. But Jesus speaks in this passage not words of comfort but words of warning. And Jesus does not cushion the blow. He could have ended this brief parable on an upbeat note by stressing the house safely built on a rock; instead he ends with destruction of the house built upon the sand: and it fell and great was its fall! LOOK OUT! Perhaps Jesus is telling us that not all sermons can end with consolation and comfort.

This passage is tough, so it is important that we be clear about what it means. We need to be clear first about the builders of the two houses. We are mistaken if we conclude that Christians believers live in the house built on a rock and that non believers constructed and live in the house built upon the sand. Both houses are Christian dwellings. The difference lies in the distinction between merely hearing the word of God and hearing and doing what God commands. ACTIONS SPEAK LOUDER THAN WORDS. Jesus tells his followers in this same chapter of Matthew: “Not everyone who says to me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ will enter the kingdom of heaven, but only the one who does the will of my Father in heaven.

As for the houses themselves, they are identical when we view them. Jesus does not paint a picture of the houses of the three little pigs, two constructed with straw and sticks and one made of solid brick. We could well imagine a beautiful mountain home built into a hill side on solid rock and a fabulous beach home, perhaps nearby, facing the ocean, built only on surrounding sand. There is nothing supernatural about the solid mountain house; it does not glow in the dark with divine power; it does not magically multiply its bedrooms and bathrooms. It cannot ward away the coming storm. Both houses face danger of destruction. The house built on a mountain must face down the cruel winter storms blasting against it, heavy rains that could flood the house from a nearby creek, the danger of mudslides if there had been an earlier forest fire nearby. The house in the sand faces the summer and fall attack by a hurricane’s wind and coastal surge. For both houses, one day, sooner or later, “a hard rain’s gonna fall.” The only difference between the houses is which will survive the terrible storm that will come to both. You know the answer to that; perhaps from your own experience of living near houses built on sand.

If the distinction between the two is the difference between merely hearing and both hearing and doing “these words,” we may well ask what are “these words” that Christ talks about. “These words” are clearly the Sermon on the Mount, for this parable is the conclusion of that sermon in this gospel. What do you remember from the Sermon on the Mount? I remember the Beatitudes because I had to memorize them. Blessed are the peacemakers, blessed are the pure in heart…. Perhaps what we need do won’t be all that difficult. Blessings are nice! But the whole Sermon is three chapters long, so perhaps we need to look closer at what Jesus said in addition to the nine verses of one chapter where we find the Blessings. Let me give you seven excerpts from those three chapters.

“You have heard that it was said to those of ancient times, ‘You shall not murder’; and ‘whoever murders shall be liable to judgment.’ But I say to you that if you are angry with a brother or sister, you will be liable to judgment;”
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If your right eye causes you to sin, tear it out and throw it away; it is better for you to lose one of your members than for your whole body to be thrown into hell.
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Let your word be ‘Yes, Yes’ or ‘No, No’; anything more than this comes from the evil one.
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But I say to you, Do not resist an evildoer. But if anyone strikes you on the right cheek, turn the other also;
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But I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be children of your Father in heaven; for he makes his sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the righteous and on the unrighteous
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“No one can serve two masters; for a slave will either hate the one and love the other, or be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve God and wealth.
========================
“Do not judge, so that you may not be judged. For with the judgment you make you will be judged, and the measure you give will be the measure you get. Why do you see the speck in your neighbor’s eye, but do not notice the log in your own eye?
=========================
These words we must do if we wish to survive destruction of the house built on sand, and great was its fall!
LOOK OUT!

Look out, because when we hear these words we are not listening to some new great human philosophy of how to live. These words are God’s words coming to us through his Son, crucified, dead, and buried and raised from the dead. And God is not demanding us to do anything that God hasn’t done. God always connected speaking and doing. God spoke and action occurred, from creation to Christ; from Exodus to Exile. God spoke and action occurred: Let there be light to This is my Beloved Son; from I will lead you out of Egypt to the warnings God gave Jeremiah, Isaiah, and Ezekiel and the final destruction of ancient Israel.

Of course we could interpret the words of warning, as many Christians have, to lessen their sting. We could say, perhaps these words are meant to teach us what life in Heaven will be like. Therefore, the words of Christ are only an ideal of our lives on earth. It is in the midst of explanations of what Jesus really meant, that we remember the words of the twentieth century German martyr Dietrich Bonhoeffer. “We could understand and interpret the Sermon on the Mount in a thousand different ways. Jesus knows only one possibility: simple surrender and obedience, not interpreting it, but doing and obeying it. There is only one other possibility, that of failing to do it. It is impossible to want to do it and yet not do it. If we start asking questions, posing problems, and offering interpretations, we are not doing his word. However vehemently we assert our faith, and our fundamental recognition of his word, Jesus still calls it not doing. I had a student who upon hearing these words replied, ” Easy for Bonhoeffer to say, he was in a Nazi concentration camp.” No he wrote these words before he was arrested; such words are the reason that he was imprisoned. Just do it! Says Jesus. We cannot be with Jesus merely to learn and accept this or that and leave on one side what we find inconvenient, impractical, or too idealistic.

What are we to do? We might want to obey but we often lack the courage that such obedience requires. Matthew’s solution is simple, so simple that in fact it is a single word, “Emanuel.” God is with us. At the end of the gospel of Matthew Jesus gives his disciples his commission, new work for them to do, but he ends with the words “and remember, I am with you, even to the end of the age.” Perhaps that should help, but in our crowded busy lives in a complex society, we too often feel that God is absent from our lives, even though we know God is present. But perhaps with the aid of the Holy Spirit, there is something else that we might do. We might practice our faith. To have faith in God means to have trust in God. Our commitment to Christ is based on trust, not objective proof.

I have enjoyed my lectures on science and religion and how we might relate the two. And yet the two are different. Science depends on observable and objective facts. Faith is based on trust of truths that cannot be proved. Even if science could prove, which it cannot, that God exists out there in limitless space. What good is that to us? What really matters most to us is that the God that does exist knows something of the dust of the earth, something of the bloodstained face human existence wears, and can feel it. Our faith is based in trust of that God.

But how can we feel that trust? The first time I went to the deep end of the swimming pool, I gained courage because an adult was there to jump in and pull me out if I got in trouble. I expect you have had a similar experience. Your courage grew because you trusted. We affirm our trust, our faith, in God by taking risks; jumping when we are not entirely sure where we might land. I know that when I fall short in being courageous about what Christ would have me do, I know that my deeper problem is a lack of trust. We should know that God and my community of faith are there to support us when we take a risk to be a better follower of Christ. Just do it, becomes a real possibility.

By doing, as Christ demands, the Holy Spirit opens the door for our living the Kingdom of Heaven, right now in this life, by giving us a deeper sense of the true meaning of life. Doing these words make our lives on earth more like the heaven we all anticipate. The promises that Christ offers in the Sermon on the Mount become real now: Do not worry, saying, ‘What will we eat?’ or ‘What will we drink?’ or ‘What will we wear?’ For indeed your heavenly Father knows that you need all these things. But strive first for the kingdom of Heaven and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. Obey Christ’s words by trusting and risking. The risks can be baby steps, which were a risk when you were a baby. Finally, a word of comfort: The warning is real but the outcome does not have to be bleak. Please remember that the house fell; but Christ says nothing about the inhabitants. So perhaps the fallen house taught its inhabitants a hard lesson about the essential need to trust, to risk and to do Christ’s words.

I pray that you and I will discover in this season of lent at least that much trust, risk, and courage in your lives as disciples of Christ.

Scripture

Ezekiel 33:30-33

As for you, mortal, your people who talk together about you by the walls, and ask the doors of the houses, say to one another, each to a neighbor, ‘Come and hear what the word is that comes from the Lord.’  They come to you as people come, and they sit before you as my people, and they hear your words, but they will not obey them.  For flattery is on their lips, but their heart is set on their gain.  To them you are like a singer of love songs, one who has a beautiful voice and plays well on an instrument; they hear what you say, but they will not do it.  When this comes–and come it will!–then they shall know that a prophet has been among them.

Matthew 7:24-27

“Everyone then who hears these words of mine and acts on them will be like a wiseman  who built his house on rock.  The rain fell, the floods came, and the winds blew and beat on that house, but it did not fall, because it had been founded on rock.  And everyone who hears these words of mine and does not act on them will be like a foolish man who built his house on sand.  The rain fell, and the floods came, and the winds blew and beat against that house, and it fell–and great was its fall!”

This is the word of the Lord.
Thanks be to God.

Sermon

February 18, 2018: Rev. Anna Fulmer

When I read this passage, I want to say to Jesus. Resist. You can do this. Just resist. Buz said it on Wednesday: The wilderness is a difficult place. A place that is isolating. A place that is dry. A place that is far beyond our cities and towns. It’s a place we avoid. But we cannot avoid it can we? We all have entered the wilderness—in health problems, the loss of a loved one, divorce, lost jobs. In the wilderness we feel doubt and fear. The Bible is full of these wilderness places. The Israelites wander in the wilderness 40 years before they reach the promised land. Noah, his family, and the animals surf the wilderness of the flood for forty days. Jonah sits in the belly of the whale, a quite uncomfortable smelly wilderness spot for forty days before being spit back up. Most of us, would do anything to avoid the wilderness. But when we cannot avoid it, and when we are in it, we are often tempted. Tempted to find easy answers; tempted to find a way out. And so, we must try to resist.

After 40 days of fasting, Jesus is famished. He is weak. And so the tester comes—This tempter isn’t dressed up in a devil costume. He is not wearing all black. This tempter instead “personifies all that obstructs and resists what God intends” (Long). We know this about our world: there are forces that are beyond our control, that distort our actions, that are much larger than our personal choices, that are lodged in our economic, political, and social systems. We have no choice but to try to resist such evil. Yet this force clouds our vision. Jesus encounters these forces, this tempter. Jesus does something that we usually cannot—he resists. We know that Jesus is the Son of God. We know the end of the story before it even begins. But if we are to understand this story for what it is, we are going to have to go back, to another wilderness time, that lasted not just forty days but forty years. A story where over and over, people gave into fear.

Jesus’ three temptations follow Israel’s temptations in the wilderness—they are even in the same order. Where Israel fails, where we fail, Jesus resists. First, Jesus is tempted by hunger. The devil says, “turn these stones into bread!” Turning stones into bread doesn’t seem that bad does it? Jesus has all this power, why not feed himself when he is hungry? Materialism is often an answer we turn to.

The Israelites are also tempted by bread—by the lack of it in the wilderness. They get scared. They doubt that God is going to provide for them. The Israelites begin to say, “If only we had died by the hand of the Lord in the land of Egypt…; for you have brought us out into the wilderness to kill this whole assembly with hunger” (Exodus 16:3). The Israelites looked around them and didn’t see food. It is tempting while we are in the wilderness to think God has put us there to kill us, to harm us. It’s tempting to want to go back into bondage rather than trust in God. It’s hard to trust, to resist doubt. The Israelites let their temptation win—they are ready ditch God, to go back to Egypt. God is faithful despite their unfaithfulness. God provides bread. Manna. You could only collect enough manna for each day. If you collected too much, it went bad. It’s daily bread. God turns their demands into a way for the Israelites to learn how to trust.

But Jesus, Jesus knows that his purpose is not just to make stones into bread to feed himself. His purpose isn’t that small, isn’t that limited. God’s plan for our lives isn’t just to take care of numero uno—ourselves. Jesus is called to trust God and to love his neighbor. Jesus knows that he could make stones turn into bread—and so could God. God makes bread reign down from heaven! Jesus’ purpose isn’t just to meet the most urgent need now—his own hunger. His purpose is to give his life up for the sake of many, to heal, to love, to be God with us. His purpose isn’t just to perform a magic trick—turn stones into bread. Sometimes, I wonder why he didn’t give in—this would be a great magic trick! There are hungry people all around—he could have fed all of them. Jesus comes down to teach us to share our bread, not to make stones into bread, so we can hoard more. The point of life, isn’t bread alone but loving and following God. So Jesus resists.

Next, the devil takes Jesus to Jerusalem, to the seat of power, where Herod rules, and Jesus will be crucified. He places Jesus on the top of the temple and tempts him to throw himself down because God will bear him up. Jesus could have safety, security, and prestige if he just let go. Jesus resists. Jesus quotes, Moses from Exodus 17, “Do not put the Lord your God to the test.” The Israelites test God just a chapter after manna comes down in the wilderness. They want water. They want security. Moses asks, “Why do you quarrel with me? Why do you test the Lord?” But they still complain, they accuse Moses and God of taking them out into the wilderness to die. They test God, and still God is faithful. Moses strikes a rock and water comes rolling out.

In both situations, Jesus and the Israelites are vulnerable. Of course they both want security and safety. Jesus is on the top of temple. The Israelites are scared they are going to die of dehydration. Both fears are real. How we deal with our fears matters. The Israelites try to take control through complaining and coercion. Often, we try to put ourselves in God’s position. We think we know God’s promises and how, when, and where God will fulfill them. Jesus’ temptation is use Scripture to ensure safety and security—the devil quotes Scripture to Jesus—God will take care of you the devil says. Just jump down from here.

Finally, the devil takes Jesus to a high mountain and shows him all the kingdoms of the world—even our rulers and empires can be used as the tester’s tools. Jesus can have them the devil says, if he falls downs and worships him. Jesus can have control. He can have wealth, power, influence. His journey could be over—and he wouldn’t have to go through death on a cross. He only has to worship the devil instead of God. The Israelites also are tempted to worship a false idol. Moses leaves them alone for 40 days and 40 nights. He goes up Mount Sinai to be with God. But he is gone, and they do not know when he will come back. They want control. They want order. They don’t want to wait. There are so many distractions. So while Moses is on top of a mountain, they build themselves a golden cow to worship. They have a festival. They eat, drink, and revel. The Israelites cave, but Jesus resists.

The Israelites temptations, Jesus’ temptations are our temptations. Jesus resists these temptations, but we rarely do. We are often tempted by myths of scarcity that there is not enough, and so we store, store, store. We do not trust that God will provide, and so we take matters into our own hands. We are tempted to turn stones into bread for ourselves or to have Midas’s touch where everything turns to gold. We are tempted by spectacles, by security and safety. We will do almost anything not to feel vulnerable. We test God. We are tempted to take power by any means necessary, even when it means we worship false gods and lose ourselves and our faith in the process. Our temptation is not just to do the wrong things but to be someone we aren’t called to be. We are tempted to deny and reject who we are. For we are God’s children.

This story is not bad news. It is good news, for our Messiah, our King resists. Jesus knows who he is and what he is called to do. Jesus shows the path of resistance, a path that is rarely taken. Jesus shows us there is enough daily bread for all if we just share. He shows us that the purpose of life isn’t to turn stones into bread but to follow God. Jesus shows us a path of reliance and trust of God, a path that does not offer celebrity or prestige, worldly power or security. It is the path to the cross. A path that leads to suffering, death, and resurrection. Already, on this journey into the wilderness we are being pointed to the cross, and we are being called to shed all that prevents us from going there. Christ reminds us to resist. We are God’s children. Trust in that good news, that calling.

Scripture

Matthew 4:1-11

Then Jesus was led up by the Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted by the devil. He fasted forty days and forty nights, and afterwards he was famished. The tempter came and said to him, “If you are the Son of God, command these stones to become loaves of bread.” But he answered, “It is written, ‘One does not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of God.’” Then the devil took him to the holy city and placed him on the pinnacle of the temple, saying to him, If you are the Son of God, throw yourself down; for it is written, ‘He will command his angels concerning you, and ‘On their hands they will bear you up, so that you will not dash your foot against a stone.’” Jesus said to him, “Again it is written, ‘Do not put the Lord your God to the test.’” Again, the devil took him to a very high mountain and showed him all the kingdoms of the world and their splendor; and he said to him, “All these I will give you, if you will fall down and worship me.” Jesus said to him, “Away with you, Satan! For it is written, “Worship the Lord your God, and serve only him.’” Then the devil left him, and suddenly angels came and waited on him.

This is the Word of the Lord. Thanks be to God.

Sermon

February 11, 2018:  Rev. Dr. Buz Wilcoxon

There was a little boy whose absolute favorite show in the whole wide world was Captain Kangaroo. And his second absolute favorite show in the whole wide world was Mister Rodgers Neighborhood. Well, one day, he saw an advertisement for a very special show in which Captain Kangaroo and Mister Rodgers were both going to appear together on the same program. This was his dream come true. His two favorites in the same place at the same time. For weeks and weeks it was all he could talk about. The night before the show was going to air he was so excited he had trouble falling asleep, and the next morning when the day had finally arrived he popped out of bed in a whirlwind of enthusiasm. He got his chores done early so that nothing could possibly get in the way of this moment. Captain Kangaroo and Mister Rodgers! He sat in his favorite chair and his parents turned on the TV for him and finally it began. His parents left the room and were standing the kitchen. Then a few minutes later the boy walked into the kitchen with tears in his eyes. His father asked, “Is everything, okay?” He nodded his head. His mother asked, “Why are you crying?” And the boy answered, “It’s just too good!” It’s just too good.[i]

Our scripture lesson this morning is one of those moments. One of those high and holy moments from Jesus’ life that feels just too good. So good that our words fail us. This story, of Jesus’ Transfiguration, or Transformation, is one of four big moments in the gospel of Mark. Mark’s story begins with the big holy moment of Jesus’ baptism and ends with his death and resurrection. But right smack in the middle, at the turning point of the gospel comes this moment of glory.

In the story, Jesus takes them and he leads them to a high and holy place, a mountain top. And if we’ve been paying attention throughout our Bible we will recognize that important events happen on mountains, it is a location of divine encounter. So too in our lives, does Jesus sometimes take us and lead us to a place that we don’t expect to encounter and experience something we can’t exactly put to the words. This man, whom the disciples have been listening to and learning from—this teacher and healer and miracle worker—this poor wayfaring stranger with no place to lay his head—over the last few days he’s started to sound a little weird. He’s started talking about how much he is going to suffer and how necessary his death will be. The disciples have tried to shush him, to ignore and not listen to these crazy words.

Now, suddenly, on this mountain top, he is transformed before their eyes into something that can only be described as heaven on earth. His clothes change, but that’s just the beginning. His face, his countenance, his whole body begins to shine brighter than the noonday sun. The disciples, and us, get to see here in this moment a glimpse into heaven, a glimpse into the future, a glimpse into the fully glorified truth of who this Jesus really is, the eternal, divine, Son of God.

And as if that weren’t enough, we also see that he is talking with two people who have been dead for hundreds of years. Moses, the great liberator and lawgiver. Elijah, the quintessential prophet and holy hero. These two are biblical all-stars, hall of famers in fact, and here they are with Jesus chatting together, it’s like Captain Kangaroo and Mister Rodgers—“it’s just too good!”

We see just how good it is when Peter opens his mouth. Now, Peter sometimes gets a bad rap in sermons and Bible studies. He is often caricatured as a rash, foolish, headstrong fellow. Maybe he is a little of that, but the truth is he’s also an awful lot of us. He speaks the words we would say if we had been there. He does the things we would probably do if we were in his shoes. Notice what he does here. In this holy moment that is too good to be true—heaven and earth coming together; past, present, and future colliding in a cosmic explosion of glory—in this moment, Peter hopes his mouth and says, “It is good for us to be here.” This is too good. Let us make some dwelling, one for you, Jesus, and a couple more for your friends Moses and Elijah. This is just too good! I don’t ever want to leave. Let’s guild houses, dwelling places, so that we can stay here forever, here in this holy place, here in this glory day!

Then, in the next verse, after Peter shuts his mouth the narrator inserts a very helpful explanation for Peter’s words: “He did not know what to say.” Peter did not know what to say. All that talk about building houses on the mountaintop is nonsense. Peter doesn’t know what he’s talking about. He did not know what to say. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if in our own lives we could have such a helpful explanation from the narrator on high to qualify our words or someone else’s? In the middle of an argument when we lose our temper and say something we will regret—“He did not know what to say.” After an awkward turn of phrase that didn’t come out right on a first date—“He did not know what to say.” After reading an immature, foolish tweet or a senseless Facebook post only trying to bait us into a debate—“He did not know what to say.” When we go visit someone who is grieving the death of a loved one, and we put our foot in our mouth trying to say something nice and it come out like “Well, they’re in a better place” or “It must be part of God’s plan”—“He did not know what to say.” Peter was so overwhelmed with the glory of this moment that he did not know what to say.

I get it. It happens to us all. Earlier this week I was in Atlanta for the ten-year reunion of my graduating class from Columbia Seminary. I got to see old friends and catch up on how their ministries are going in churches around the country. And I also got to see some of my favorite professors. There were three in particular, three teachers that I loved to learn from and made sure to take every class I could from. One of them is retired now. One has moved on to another call. And one of them is currently on sabbatical. So, none of them should have been there on campus. But all three of them were there. Not only that, but at one point they were outside the library talking together, and I was standing there, and it was wonderful. Captain Kangaroo and Mister Rodgers! I just stood there, soaking in the moment in all of my nerdiness. I found myself without words (which you know is pretty rare). I just stood there. Then, when I did venture to speak, I wasn’t actually contributing the conversation, I was reliving memories. “Do you remember when so-and-so did such-and-such?” I was soaking the moment, but in reality, I was caught up in a wave of nostalgia—wanting to relive the past, go back to the glory days.

That’s the great temptation of holy moments on the mountaintops of our lives. We want to stay there. There as some days that are just too good, and we wish we could just pitch our tent there forever, build some dwellings and keep the gang all together. That’s Peter’s temptation, to crystalize the holy moment and make it permanent, to dwell in the past, to idealize what was.

You know that Bruce Springsteen song, “Glory Days”—it’s all about grown ups mentally stuck in adolescence, imaginations permanently trapped in high school. At the end of the song he sings:

“I hope when I get old I don’t sit around talking about it, but I probably will.

Yeah, just sitting back trying to recapture a little of the glory of,

Well time slips away and leaves you with noting mister, but boring stories of glory days.

They’ll pass you by. Glory days…”[ii]

That is Peter. That is us—wanting to capture and recapture glory days, even though they are passing us by. Because life is hard. It’s tough. It’s full of disappointment and suffering and loss and pain and death. And sometimes we, like Peter, want to dwell in the days that were good, just too good. We don’t know what to say or think or hope or dream. But we know we want to stay on those few mountaintop moments that we get in life.

Peter wasn’t to stay on the bright, bright mountainside, but then a cloud rolls in and overshadows the moment of glory. That’s life, isn’t it? Just when we get a little bit of light, the darkness rolls in and shadows over everything. But this is no ordinary cloud—from it booms a heavenly voice, God’s own voice. Now, this is important really important, notice that God does not speak in the rays of the glory days but from the shadow of darkness. God does not speak from the brightness but from the shadow. On the dark nights of our lives, this is truth we cannot forget!

God says, “This is my Son, the Beloved, listen to him.” Listen! Listen! The verb is in the imperative: Listen! Don’t just look at him, transfigured and shining bright. Listen to him! Listen to all those things he said about having to suffer, having to die. Listen to him as he leads you to Jerusalem, where he will be executed by the state. Listen too him as he is betrayed and arrested, denied, condemned, and crucified. Listen to the world you don’t want to hear. Listen, and obey, and follow![iii]

This story is all about Jesus’ glory, but it ends in darkness and foreboding foreshadowing. It juxtaposes the glory that we see and the suffering that we hear. We’d rather live in and be distracted by glory days when we don’t go through hardship and pain, but that is not the way we are called to follow. We’d rather not face the cold harshness of death, both our own and those of ones we love, but the truth of the gospel is that there cannot be resurrection without life. The world will not be transformed by us sitting idly by, refusing to risk ourselves, our lives, our comforts, our security, our church. We cannot hope to help the suffering of our brothers and sisters, both here in Mobile and around the globe, without entering into their pain and sorrow and suffering ourselves. No, there cannot be Easter Sunday without Good Friday. There cannot be glory, real glory, without the cross and the tomb.         And that is where Jesus is going. And that is where he calls us to follow. And the voice of God says, “Listen to him!”

In this Apocalyptic moment, God break into the story of creation, right into the middle of the gospel, right into the middle of our lives. God breaks in through the darkness and times of not knowing. God break into your story, and my story, and our story, the story of all creation to reveal to us who this Jesus really is and to command us to listen and follow wherever he goes.[iv] We are called to go with him down from the mountain, down into the valley of the shadow of death—to go down, all the way to the end…and then to the new beginning, to the true glory of resurrection life that will be “just too good!”

To God alone be the glory.

[i] Thanks to Kim Long for the story.

[ii] Bruce Springsteen, “Glory Days,” on Born in the U.S.A., 1984.

[iii] Stan Saunders, “Mark 9: 2-9” in Feasting on the Word, Year B, Volume 1, 455.

[iv] Ibid., 453.

Scripture

Mark 9: 2-10

²Six days later, Jesus took with him Peter and James and John, and led them up a high mountain apart, by themselves. And he was transfigured before them, ³and his clothes became dazzling white, such as no one on earth could bleach them. ⁴And there appeared to them Elijah with Moses, who were talking with Jesus. ⁵Then Peter said to Jesus, ‘Rabbi, it is good for us to be here; let us make three dwellings, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.’ ⁶He did not know what to say, for they were terrified. ⁷Then a cloud overshadowed them, and from the cloud there came a voice, ‘This is my Son, the Beloved; listen to him!’ ⁸Suddenly when they looked around, they saw no one with them any more, but only Jesus.

⁹As they were coming down the mountain, he ordered them to tell no one about what they had seen, until after the Son of Man had risen from the dead. ¹⁰So they kept the matter to themselves, questioning what this rising from the dead could mean.

Sermon

February 4, 2018:  Rev. Dr. Buz Wilcoxon

When I was in fourth grade we lived on a cul-de-sac. Often idealized as a picture of American domestic tranquility. Cul-de-sacs are safe. Cul-de-sacs are neighborly. Nothing dangerous ever happens on cul-de-sacs. Well, our particular street was built into a hill so the house across from us was significantly higher up the hill and the slop ran down through our front yard. It was a Friday night. In fact, it was the day that my brother and I got our Super Nintendo. After having pizza we settled into to our first experience playing Mario Cart, when all of the sudden we heard a load crash from the other room and my mother shriek out in fear. It sounded like a bomb had gone off. Well it wasn’t a bomb, it was a brand new BMW. Our neighbor across the street had just gotten the car that day and apparently had not yet mastered the intricacies of its parking break. So the car rolled backwards down his driveway, across the tranquil, safe, nothing-dangerous-ever-happens cul-de-sac, through our front yard, and into our living room. My brother and I ran and hid, and my mother called 911. Thankfully, no one was hurt (except for the fish in our aquarium). We all were safe, but we had a large vehicle-sized hole in the front of our house. So that night we packed up our things and went to stay at my great aunt’s house. Aunt Betty welcomed us with open arms, and rearranged her life for about a week so that we could live with her until our house was safe to return to. The moral of the story is, when a car crashes into your place, you go stay with family. That’s what you do.

Last Friday night, a car crashed into the side of McKemie Place, the primary women’s shelter for Mobile, Baldwin, and Washington counties. Thanks be to God no one was hurt, but their home isn’t safe to live in until the repairs are made. Remember: when a car crashes into your place, you go stay with family. This Friday night we welcomed these sisters in Christ, aunts and great-aunts in our family of faith into our home at Spring Hill Presbyterian Church. Some of them are with us this morning in worship. All of them are safe and secure in the Bullard Building for a few days while the McKemie Place building is repaired. As I said in the letter that was emailed to the congregation this week, “I am so proud of the leadership of our church for faithfully making this decision to ‘do something’ and to show real, tangible, Christian hospitality.”

In our scripture lesson today from the Gospel of Mark, Jesus comes crashing into the darkness of our broken world to heal, to transform, to teach and set free. What an odd story. What a strange encounter. In seems to come from some sort of science fiction movie. It would fit right in to an episode of Stranger Things, with this violent clash between unseen forces. An evil disembodied spirit afflicting a person, shouting words that no one else understands. This story is full of power, and it is all about Jesus’ identity and authority.

Notice where it begins. In the synagogue on the sabbath day. It begins at the place and time of worship for the people of God. We may think that getting up and going to church on a Sunday is a pretty ordinary, tame experience. But if we’re really open to what is happening and what can happen, we might just be surprised by how wild and strange it is to gather in the name of the Living God and pour out our whole body, minds, and souls fully into the act of praise and devotion.

The author Annie Dillard wonders about the wildness of worship when she asks, “Why do people in church seem like cheerful tourists on a packaged tour of the [Holy]? … Does anyone have the foggiest idea what sort of power we blithely invoke? Or…does no one believe a word of it? The churches are children playing on the floor with their chemistry sets, mixing up a batch of TNT [on] a Sunday morning. It is madness to wear ladies’ straw hats and velvet hats to church; we should all be wearing crash helmets. Ushers should issue life preservers and signal flares; they should lash us to our pews.”[i]

It certainly was a wild worship service that sabbath day. It started with Jesus’ teaching. Do you hear the reaction of the congregation? The crowd was astonished! Astounded! Because he taught “as one having authority.” The kind of authority that only the Word of God incarnate could claim.

It’s funny that the narrator of the story makes sure that we know how the audience reacted, but doesn’t tell us anything that Jesus said. His teaching was so powerful, but we don’t get to hear a word of it. Instead, we see that the same authority on display as Jesus commands the unseen forces of good and evil. Casting this demon out of the man who is suffering is show of force, a shot fired across the bow announcing to the powers that seem to control the world that a new kingdom is at hand, a new ruler with authority has arrived, the old ways are being transgressed and transformed by his words and his deeds.

Of all the stories of Jesus healing, this one is peculiar because of the conversation between Jesus and the unclean spirit. The demon speaks words that are both true and false at the same time. He calls Jesus “the Holy One of God,” which is really who Jesus is. The messiah, the anointed one. But the demon does not welcome Jesus in that role. No, he tries to send Jesus away. “What do you have do with us?” You don’t belong here, Jesus. Your light has no room in this time of darkness. Your peace has no place in this world or war. You truth has no value in this kingdom of lies. He knows who Jesus really is, but he acts as if that has no bearing whatsoever on our lives.

Like he will do many other times in his ministry, Jesus casts this unclean spirit out, healing the man who is suffering. But Jesus also does something else, just as powerful. He silences the demon. He says, “Be silent.” Shut your mouth. Mute your lies and trickery. Muffle your deceit and deception. The demon said that Jesus was the Holy One of God, the Lord and Messiah, but that he did not matter, that he had nothing to do with us, nothing to do with the suffering of the real world. And in a show of divine power, Jesus silences the demon.

Now, lets be clear, there is a huge gap in worldview between the ancient world and our modern world when it comes to understanding physical and mental health. Much of what the ancients thought of as unclean spirits we know to be diseases, viruses, disorders, and conditions. We treat our illnesses with medications, surgeries, appropriate therapies. So, it may be tempting to toss aside all this outdated antiquated language about evil spirits and demons. Much harm has certainly been done by zealots overly spiritualizing diseases and demonizing those who suffer as somehow curses or possessed. But, even with all these issues and concerns, we can’t ignore or throw away these important stories of unclean spirits because they remind us of something we dare not forget, that there are forces that we cannot see which take hold and wreak havoc in our world still.

Today’s demons have other names like greed and materialism. Fear and terror. Warmongering and political tribalism. Intolerance and bigotry. Ignorance of the past and anxiety for the future. Today’s demons show up in racism, sexism, classism, ableism, and ageism. Today’s demons still speak their half-truths, their self-serving lies. They say things like, “My safety is more important than theirs.” “So long as the bottom line doesn’t suffer, anything goes.” Profit margin is more important than ethics.” “Winning the vote matters more than truth.” Today’s demons still bend our ear to look out for ourselves at the expense of others, to define our neighbors as only those who are just like us, to see difference and diversity as threat or opponents to be overcome. If it feels good it must be ok. So long as you don’t get caught you aren’t doing anything wrong. Might makes right. But remember, the Holy One of God silences demons!

Today’s demons call us into downward spirals. They say things like, “You aren’t good enough, you aren’t pretty enough, you aren’t smart enough, you aren’t strong enough.” They say, “Remember all those mistakes you’ve made, remember the worst thing you’ve ever done, you’ll never be more than that.” They say “Look at those folks, they have it all. They are what you could never be. You’ll never measure up to them.” But remember, the Holy One of God silences demons.

Today’s demons still whisper, “Be careful. Play it safe. Don’t risk to much. Don’t show your true colors. Don’t you dare upset the apple cart. Just keep your head down and ignore the pain and suffering around you. Let someone else handle it. What difference could you make. One person, one family, one church. You can’t change the world, so why even bother.” But remember, the Holy One of God silences demons.

Today’s demons hiss “You can’t help. You can’t open your doors. Just say you’re sorry, tell them you’ll pray for them and then go on about your day. You can’t possibly welcome dozens of women into your church. Do you know how hard it will be to move all those programs to another building? Think of all the logistics. What if something unexpected were to happen? What will the neighbors think? You really shouldn’t. You can’t. You won’t. This isn’t your problem, let someone else solve it. Sure Jesus says those things about welcoming others, but does any of that actually matter? What does Jesus have to do with us?” Those demons today prey on our fears and bend our ears seeking to keep us in our place. But friends, I have seen it with my own eyes this very week…the Holy One of God silences demons.

The Holy One of God, the King we serve, the Suffering Servant, the Head of Church, the Pioneer and Perfector of our Faith, Jesus Christ crashes into this world and silences our demons. He casts them out and shuts their mouths. He hushes their lies and half-truths. He quiets their fearmongering and fabrications. He muzzles their greedy self-interest and grandiose self-importance. He silences the demons that keep us up at night and that haunt our thoughts by day. He speaks his truth of grace and peace, of love and sacrifice, of home and hospitality. His death and resurrection defeated the power of sin and evil once and for all, for all of us. And by his authority he empowers us still to resist the demons of our world today, to see one another as sisters and brothers, members of his own family where all are welcomed and all are made one. Where there is always a place to stay in his grace and a place to rest in his truth.

To the Holy one of God be all honor and glory, now and forever.

[i] Annie Dillard, Teaching a Stone to Talk: Expeditions and Encounters, 1982, pp. 40-41.

Scripture

Mark 1: 21-28, 35-39

They went to Capernaum; and when the sabbath came, he entered the synagogue and taught. They were astounded at his teaching, for he taught them as one having authority, and not as the scribes. Just then there was in their synagogue a man with an unclean spirit, and he cried out, ‘What have you to do with us, Jesus of Nazareth? Have you come to destroy us? I know who you are, the Holy One of God.’ But Jesus rebuked him, saying, ‘Be silent, and come out of him!’ And the unclean spirit, throwing him into convulsions and crying with a loud voice, came out of him. They were all amazed, and they kept on asking one another, ‘What is this? A new teaching—with authority! He commands even the unclean spirits, and they obey him.’ At once his fame began to spread throughout the surrounding region of Galilee.

In the morning, while it was still very dark, he got up and went out to a deserted place, and there he prayed. And Simon and his companions hunted for him. When they found him, they said to him, ‘Everyone is searching for you.’ He answered, ‘Let us go on to the neighboring towns, so that I may proclaim the message there also; for that is what I came out to do.’ And he went throughout Galilee, proclaiming the message in their synagogues and casting out demons.

Sermon

January 28, 2018:  Rev. Dr. Buz Wilcoxon

Today’s passage from Proverbs comes from the opening section of the book. The first nine chapters are structed as a series of instructions from a parent to a child. As it is presented, this isn’t really a conversation between the youngster and the parent, not this is more of a lecture. A lecture on the right way to live. That’s not how any of us talk to our children, is it? Ryann has to remind me all that time that when I’m trying to discipline our kids I have a tendency to lapse into lecturing, to keep talking and talking as if I can somehow through the sheer force of verbal willpower I could get them to act a certain way. Well, the parent of proverbs seems to be giving the child a talkin-to. But, it’s not coming from a place of frustration or exhaustion, like my lectures to my kids. No, its coming from a place of patience and experience, from a place of wisdom. This is a set of conversations that the contain the wisdom of the community passed on through the ages which the elder is seeking to impart to the youngster.

The wise elder says “My child, keep your father’s commandment, and do not forsake your mother’s teaching.” Though these truths are presented as coming from a parent, the teachings of proverbs could just as easily come from a wise mentor or coach, a beloved teacher or professor. Maybe a Sunday school teacher, or youth advisor, or a Scout leader. The insight of one generation handed down to the next is described as a lamp and a light to guide your feet along the path of wisdom.

All this talk of walking down paths with or without light sounds awfully fitting on this Scout Sunday. The rich language that parent uses creates and image in our head of wisdom guides you through the dark trails, keeps watch at night and welcomes you in the morning. It sounds an a lot like a campout to me.

Jesus’s own teaching from our gospel lesson takes the form of another similar proverb, “Those who walk during the day do not stumble, because they see the light of this world. But those who walk at night stumble, because the light is not in them.”

This task of shaping the wisdom and knowledge of the next generation is a holy endeavor, a huge responsibility. Those who are wise lovingly give their wisdom away as a great gift which cannot be repaid. And yet, we also know quite well that not all relationships between young and old are shaped by such truth, love, and dignity. We know of story after story of abuse and neglect, of predatory behavior and horrific atrocities committed against children. This week alone our news has been filled with repulsive accounts of evil in our world: Parents in California keeping their 13 malnourished children chained into a world of horror, a team doctor abusing his position of trust and power to assault young gymnastics for decades. Such sinfulness and depravity are precisely the kind of darkness that Jesus is talking about, when he says those who walk in the darkness and have “no light in them.” While we trustingly listen to and learn from the wise teachings of elders like this parent in the book of Proverbs, we must confess and be convicted that not all such relationships are shaped by light and love. That is why true wisdom is so valuable, because it is so rare. In a world of darkness, we need the light of truth, the lamp of love to guide us in the right direction along the path of wisdom.

Over the years, I have been particularly shaped by a series of conversations with the wisest person that I know, my grandfather. We’ve talked thousands of times, and I’ve learned an awful lot from him, but there are five particular conversations that we have had which have shaped me into the person that I am today—or who I aspire to be.

When I was nine years old we were on vacation with my grandparents when I learned that we were going to be moving from Tuscaloosa to Mobile. I was distraught. That’s about the worst thing that a nine-year old can imagine—moving away from all my friends, from all I had ever known. And while I was soaking my pillow in a summer rainstorm of tears my grandfather walked into the room. He sat down on the bed and he told me the story of when his family had moved when he was a little boy. He told me about how sad he was to leave his friends and how nervous he was to go somewhere new. But then he told me how quickly he met and made new friends and how much fun they had together. He told me that it was ok to be sad, but that even though I didn’t know it yet, I was going to love my new home and new friends in Mobile. It’s wasn’t that deep, nothing profound, but he was talking to a nine year-old, and that’s just what I needed to hear then.

Proverbs says, “Bind [these words] upon your heart always; tie them around your neck.”
            When I was 18 years-old, my grandfather and I had another one of those conversations. I was about to leave home and head 8 hours away to college in South Carolina. We were playing golf, and while standing on a tee box he said, “Buz, when you get there, to this new place, there will be a lot of temptations to do things and act in ways that you know aren’t right, but they will seem like the quickest may to make friends. I know it will be hard, but you’ve got to be comfortable being lonely for a while. Stay true to who you know you are and how you know you are supposed to act. If others around don’t include you, that’s ok. You’ll be lonely…at first. But if you can be comfortable in that loneliness for a while, you’ll meet people who want to be your friend for who you really are, you’ll form relationships that will last because they will be genuine and not fake or forced.”

I’ve thought back on those two conversations hundreds of times in my life. They are seared into the contours of my psyche, but there is something about them that I’d never noticed until this very week, while studying the book of Proverbs. The remarkable thing about those wise words to the young man heading to college was that they were almost the exact opposite of what he said when I was much younger. To the nine-year old he reassuringly said, “You’ll make new friends quickly.” To the 18-year-old he warned, “Don’t make friends too quickly.” Both times he was right. He knew what to say, but just as importantly, he knew when to say it. That’s the kind of wisdom that the book of Proverbs seeks to teach. Not just knowing the words of the wise, but discerning where the fit into life, learning in which context to apply them.

Proverbs says, “When you walk, they will lead you.”

When I was 22 years old I had finished college and was engaged to Ryann. A few weeks before our wedding, my grandfather and I were on that same golf course when he talked to me about marriage. He said, “Deep down, marriage is all about sharing. It seems obvious when you are in a house together that you share all of these things that you own, but what a lot of couples miss is that material objects are the easiest things to share. The best marriages happen when people share power, when they share trust, when they share failure. When they share who and how and why decisions get made.” He said that there were some couples who never learn to share those hard things and it rarely ends well.”

Proverbs says, “when you lie down, they will watch over you; and when you awake, they will talk with you.

When I was finishing my studies in seminary, preparing to become a pastor myself, my grandfather and I went to lunch and talked about some about his own experiences in ministry. I’ll never forget, in that conversation he said, “Buz, none of us are who we are. We are all becoming who we will be.” None of us are who we are. We are all becoming who we will be. In other words, we was saying, we are all works in progress. The best of us and the worst of us are always in transition. And yet we live in ways that become so fixated on isolated achievements or mistakes as if they define who we are and especially who other people are. Our world so easily gives up on people when they act a certain way or say a certain thing as if that this the sum total of their entire story, but all of our stories are still being written, and God is a God who authors beautiful stories of transformation, stories of redemption, stories of goodness that comes even out of evil, of light that shines, even in the darkness.

Proverbs says, “The commandment is a lamp and the teaching is a light.”

A little over four years ago, when I had been called to serve as the pastor of this church but in the weeks before I had actually begun my time with you, my grandfather and I talked over the phone about the church and about ministry. I’ll never forget what he said, “Always remember to focus on the basics of being a pastor.” He said, “Don’t get distracted by various movements and efforts for total change in the larger church. Those come and go every few years.” Now, you’ve got to know this wasn’t coming from some closed-minded or intolerant position with regard to the need for change in the world or in the church. My grandfather had been active in standing for civil rights in Alabama and Mississippi in times when it wasn’t safe to do so. He had worked hard on issues of justice and equality in the communities where he lived. In his later years of ministry his congregation was even kicked out of its local governing body because they dared to ordain a woman as a pastor. He has a heart for justice, but he did not take such stands because of some party platform or outside political agenda. No, such stances always grew out of the deep deep love that he had for the people in the churches that he served and the ways they were called to serve together. He said, “Don’t get distracted by those movements. You might agree with some and disagree with others, applaud their leaders or not, but remember that you call is to focus on the work of pastoral ministry in your church: preaching, teaching, pastoral care visits with your congregation.” He said he’d seem many pastors who got so focused on everything else that was going on in the larger church that they forgot about their primary charge to care for their congregation.

Jesus said, “Those who walk during the day do not stumble, because they see the light of the world.”

Friends, I share these stories with you not for you to learn about or love my grandfather…though you’re certainly free to do so. No, I share them because they are for me critical points along the path of wisdom. They are lights and lamps that still guide me. And Proverbs invites us all to remember and share such moments in all of our lives. To remember the people and the words, the truth and the wisdom that shape us into who we are becoming. To remember and to cherish, to “Bind them upon your heart always; tie them around your neck” that we might walk in the light as we journey together from one generation to the next following the one who is the Light of the World.

To God alone be the glory.

Scripture

Proverbs 6:20-23

²⁰ My child, keep your father’s commandment,
and do not forsake your mother’s teaching.
²¹ Bind them upon your heart always;
tie them around your neck.
²² When you walk, they will lead you;
when you lie down, they will watch over you;
and when you awake, they will talk with you.
²³ For the commandment is a lamp and the teaching a light,
and the reproofs of discipline are the way of life

John 11: 9-10

Jesus answered, ‘Are there not twelve hours of daylight? Those who walk during the day do not stumble, because they see the light of this world. But those who walk at night stumble, because the light is not in them.’