jesus

Sunday’s Sermon – Looking to Jesus – Hebrews 11:29-2:2

August 18, 2019 Leave a Comment

It started in middle school. About this time every year, just after the school year began, so did our soccer season. But there were a few weeks before coaches could technically lead practices, so in my school, the middle and high school teams combined and were led in “training and conditioning” afternoons. After school we would gather outside of the locker room and the senior team captains would announce the plans for the day. Almost always we began with a long run through the school’s neighborhood. It was southern Alabama. In August. Hot. Humid. You get the idea. Miserable. And few of us had done much running over the summer, so it was pretty brutal. As some of you know, I’m not a runner. I’ve heard of this so-called “runner’s euphoria” that people exhibit after running a few miles and getting into “the zone,” but it has not been my experience. Instead, sheer survival has been my approach. I survived those soccer conditioning days with grit and clinging to the idea of focusing on what was ahead. Quite literally. An older player taught me that, instead of looking down the loooong stretch of road we had to cover (and then come back), to just look a few feet in front of me at a time. Then, to look at the light poles, and focus on running just to the next pole. One foot in front of the other, one step at a time, one light pole to the next. That’s what it takes to finish the race set before you; knowing where to look.

I wonder if the writer of Hebrews would give similar advice. This general epistle is written to an early group of believers who are, well, struggling with the process of getting in shape to follow a new faith system. They need a pep talk. As John Shelley describes it:

The writer of Hebrews has introduced the idea of faith as the courage to endure, in an effort to stiffen the spines of the little band of Christians struggling with hostility, ridicule, and shame[i].

Throughout chapter 11, he gives a long litany of heroes and heroines from the Hebrew Scriptures. This is a famous listing of names, from Abraham and Moses to the names we read this morning. It’s like a “who’s who” of the earliest parts of Scripture, no doubt names and stories familiar to this letter’s readers. It is a Cliff’s notes version, summarizing thousands of years of history into a few phrases each time, as if to jog the memory of those who know the fuller story. Together, they make up this amazing cloud of witnesses.

You know that long road I mentioned? It had a dead end. That meant that we ran to its end, then reversed the path to get back to our school campus. If you were in the back of the group, you would see others coming your direction, meaning that turn was near. But more encouraging than this, was the regular practice of high-fives from those leading the way, and the shouts of encouragement that we could pick up the pace. That’s the kind of work that the cloud of witnesses do for us in faith; this listing is one high five after another from those who have walked the road of life before us in faith, giving us confidence to do the same.

To those new to the faith, the writer points out “hey, look! Here’s a whole host of people who have come before you, who have had tremendous obstacles and challenges, too, and by faith, have made it through. If they can do it, so can you!”

What has helped God’s people deal with discouragement since the beginning is the knowledge that we are not alone. We follow in the footsteps of people from the earliest biblical times who were unsure of what the future held for them. We follow in the footsteps of saints who along the way chose to trust God anyway. We follow at God who does not abandon us in times of trouble[ii].

The penultimate example of this of course? Jesus Christ. He is the “pioneer and perfecter” of our faith, running the race before us, blazing the trail, and setting the pace and cadence. He is the experienced runner who jogs along beside us, effortlessly, with words of encouragement. He is the one who reminds us of the fundamentals: to breathe in through our nose and not our mouth, and what part of the foot to put on the ground first. And if we get distracted, or aren’t quite sure where the course lies, he provides direction and guidance, keeping our eyes focused on what is ahead – not too far, not too near. And, at the risk of ruining this metaphor, he’s probably also the water station and medic, ready with supplies in case of an emergency or injury or to scoop us up if the race becomes too much for us, and who stands cheering at the finish line saying “see! I know you could do it!” The idea of Jesus as the most elite athlete of faith and coach is not hard to wrap our minds around, and provides the kind of pep talk that we may need to keep going.

This morning at our 11:00 service we will/have baptize a wonderfully sweet child of God, Jackson. In this sacrament, we celebrate that Christ has won the race and is victorious over everything, even death. We affirm that we belong on God’s team, and that nothing can separate us from God’s love because of the one who claims us in these waters. We welcome those who are baptized into the family of God, and promise to be the cloud of witnesses for them. By faith, we affirm they belong to God. By faith, we promise to walk alongside them as parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles, cousins, friends, and the church universal, encouraging them to keep going in their journey of faith. We do all of this because, by faith, we believe in the power and example set in Jesus Christ, and look to him above everything else. Jesus Christ is that light pole to look toward, marking our lives step by step, moment by moment, with God’s grace. Baptism puts us on the starting blocks of our lives of faith, trusting Jesus to carry us from there.

What I love about the writer of Hebrew’s metaphor of the race in relation to faith in Christ is that it encompasses the fullness of the ups and downs of life. The writer reminds us that Jesus’ road was far from easy with the inclusion of the shame of the cross that he endured. But rather than dwell on the violence and the horrors of it, we are pointed to Jesus’ approach as one of focusing on the joy at the end. It seems that finding a focal point ahead is the key to enduring challenges along the way. Mary Foskett writes:

Life is difficult and the Christian life is no exception. In fact, discipleship will likely entail new challenges and unanticipated costs. The key for the author of the letter to the Hebrews is that faith discerns where real life is to be found, knows which values are true and which are counterfeit, and endures hardship in the face of divine promise[iii].

Our text for today focuses our lives again on being faithful to a God who is faithful to us. With Christ as our focal point, we are able to put one foot in front of the other and continue on the race, even if we are moving slower than a turtle through peanut butter. Everything comes into perspective.

Faith allows [us] to see beyond what is right in front of [us], [our]daily problems, to see what God is doing in [our] midst, to see what God has done throughout the ages, and to see the future joy God has in store for us[iv].

There’s an old spiritual that captures this truth. It begins “In the morning, when I rise” which leads to the ask, “give me Jesus.” But it doesn’t end there. The verses continue “and when I feel alone”; and “when I come to die.” In all of these, and presumably everything in between, the singer reflects a deep longing for the one who will bring us life. All along the way, one post at a time, we need Jesus. When things are new and fresh like a morning, and our lives seem brimming with potential and excitement for what might be, in hope we need Jesus. When things are isolating and challenging, and our cries seem to echo around us without response, in pain we need Jesus. When things come to an end and we feel all of those mixed emotions, in grief and in peace we need Jesus.

That is the heart of the Hebrews message – to look to Jesus in all times, especially when the road gets long, for it is our faith in him that will lead us forward and give us the courage to just take one. more. step. The road is laid out before us. A cloud of witnesses is cheering us on. May we have the faith to look to Christ and run in his direction. Amen.

~Sermon by Rev. Elizabeth Lovell Milford, August 18, 2019
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[i] John C. Shelley, “Theological Perspective: Hebrews 11:29-2:2,” Feasting on the Word, Year C, Volume 3, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, editors (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2010).
[ii] David E. Gray, “Pastoral Perspective: Hebrews 11:29-2:2,” Feasting on the Word, Year C, Volume 3, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, editors (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2010).
[iii] https://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx?commentary_id=4153
[iv] David E. Gray, “Pastoral Perspective: Hebrews 11:29-2:2,” Feasting on the Word, Year C, Volume 3, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, editors (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2010).

Sunday’s Sermon – Great Christological Hymns- Philippians 2:1-11, Colossians 1:15-20

August 4, 2019 Leave a Comment

The context for this sermon is within a “hymn sing” worship service, where congregational favorites are sung throughout the liturgy, and the majority of the sermon is also sung by the congregation.

Do you hear the people sing?
Singing a song of angry men?
It is the music of a people
Who will not be slaves again
When the beating of your heart
Echoes the beating of the drums
There is a life about to start
When tomorrow comes[ii]

This iconic song marks a turning point in the classic musical Les Miserables. It is a song of people coming together for revolution, proclaiming their truth in a cadence that builds into powerful chorus. It will likely make you want to sing along, and may get stuck in your head. Sorry. This, along with other power ballads, is a testimony to the fact that through song, we proclaim our truth. As Christians, this is especially true, and experienced in the power of our music and hymns.

Hymns, more than just being nice ways to break up a long-winded preacher, are ways in which the church have proclaimed those things that are most central to our faith. It’s no surprise, then, that so many of them are about Jesus Christ. The story of Christ’s birth, life, death, and resurrection is the most powerful truth that we tell, and worthy of as many songs as we have breath. Amen?

The passages we read this morning as examples of perhaps how the early church professed its faith in lyric. Both seem to be additions by Paul into his respective letters to the Philippians and Colossians, adopted from an emerging tradition. Each presents the most important aspects of the story of God incarnate in ways that, hopefully, became a tune that would develop into the song of the people.

To sing about Jesus Christ as Lord and Savior, as God incarnate, as the first-born of all creation and reconciler of all, and also humble and a servant; well, those are pretty big and audacious claims. They are bold assertions that are meant to rock the boat and challenge the status quo. That is what it means to proclaim the gospel after all. To say these words in some sort of early church recited liturgy was like the hushed whisper in which the song begins in Les Mis. And one by one, the chorus grows, until all are singing together in strength and joy.

As 21^st century Christians, we don’t often think about our hymns as being particularly revolutionary. Indeed, many push-back at the idea of any change to our tunes with “new hymns”. If we’re honest, we might admit that we grow a bit complacent in our singing, enjoying the melodies and familiar lyrics and the opportunity to stretch our legs a bit. This morning, I’d like to challenge you to pay attention a bit more to the hymns that we sing and the power they contain, especially those that we sing about the one we say is Lord. These are hymns about power and transformation, both within us, and within our world. And friends, both within us, and within our world, we need the revolutionary power of Jesus Christ. The good news is; we know it is possible. We have experienced the empty tomb and therefore can sing the fullness of the story, confident and hopeful for God’s power and presence not just on the horizon, but here with us now. In Christ, a new day comes! And so we sing.

That famous song appears a second time in Les Mis at the end of the show in the Epilogue, with slightly changed lyrics that echo the joys of revolution in such a way that you could even wonder if they were also singing about faith, too. It goes like this:

Do you hear the people sing
Lost in the valley of the night?
It is the music of a people
Who are climbing to the light.

For the wretched of the earth
There is a flame that never dies.
Even the darkest night will end
And the sun will rise.

They will live again in freedom
In the garden of the Lord.
We will walk behind the ploughshare;
We will put away the sword.
The chain will be broken
And all men will have their reward.

Will you join in our crusade?
Who will be strong and stand with me?
Somewhere beyond the barricade
Is there a world you long to see?
Do you hear the people sing?
Say, do you hear the distant drums?
It is the future that they bring
When tomorrow comes[iii]!

Will you, too, be the people that sing? About the world we long to see and know to be possible because of the power of Christ? I invite you to rise in body or in spirit, as we sing the hymns of revolution this morning, proclaiming the good news of the gospel of Jesus Christ in song. And may our songs carry us into lives that are a part of the uprising God’s kingdom brings. Let us sing!

~Homily preached by Rev. Elizabeth Lovell Milford, August 4, 2019

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[ii] “Do You Hear the People Sing?” from Les Miserables, written by Alain Boublil, Herbert Kretzmer, Claude Michel Schonberg and Jean-Marc Natel.

[iii] “Do You Hear the People Sing?” from Les Miserables, written by Alain Boublil, Herbert Kretzmer, Claude Michel Schonberg and Jean-Marc Natel.

Sunday’s Sermon – Starry-Eyed – Galatians 3:23-29 – Scriptures and Seuss

July 28, 2019 Leave a Comment

This July, our summer sermon series pairs Scripture texts with well-known and loved books by Dr. Seuss as modern parables to deepen our exploration of faith in the world together. This week our Dr. Seuss classic is The Sneetches.

Last week for Heritage Plays, 23 of us met up at Suntrust Park to enjoy a baseball game. Matt, Andrew, and I got to the stadium just before the game began. A few steps past the gate, I began to notice fans carrying the kids giveaway for the night: a Braves backpack. They were no longer giving them away at the gate, and I wasn’t surprised, assuming we’d missed it. But, just in case, I talked Matt into letting me walk towards another gate to see if they still had any. He convinced me that was a fool’s errand, so we began to head toward our section. But I kept seeing people with these backpacks. More and more of them. I even saw one of the employees holding two of them, so I asked him if perhaps I could have one (he told me, “no” – he was holding them for some other fans in a reserved seating area). Every time I saw someone with a backpack, something poked at me inside. I wanted one. I noticed they weren’t even the totally cheap-o ones either. And everyone seemed to have them. More and more. Like they were giving them away nearby even. My internal monologue was getting a little ridiculous as I looked around. I begrudgingly followed Matt back up the stairs, and then, right by the gate where we had entered, I noticed something. Everyone had a backpack. I looked again. There were a few stacks of them, and employees giving them away. I walked over, prepared to persuade with my very cute infant. Before I could get out a sentence, one was in my hand and I was saying “Thank you!”

Now, I don’t need this backpack. In the words of my wise husband, we don’t need this backpack. Another backpack. Even if it does have an “a” on it and a place for water bottles. And he’s right. But my sense of jealousy at what others were carrying around, and my pride at having one of my own in my hands was palpable. Probably in ways beyond what it should be. All for a “free” giveaway at a ball game.

Sometimes, we get caught up in wanting what other people have, don’t we? There was a cartoon devoted to this idea, illustrated by Arthur R. “Pop” Momand, it ran in The New York World and other papers from 1913 until 1940. It featured a couple, the McGinis family, who were social climbers and struggled to “keep up” with their neighbors, unseen characters who never appeared in any comic, named “The Joneses.” This is one theory on where we get that idiomatic expression, “keeping up with the Joneses”[i]. Whether it’s out of a sense of keeping up with the Joneses (or Kardashians, or anyone else), we tend to pay attention to what others around us have. We are jealous of the newest phone or latest model of car; we wish our haircut would look half as good as hers, or that we had half the hair that he does. And we play a comparison game: we wish our haircut would look half as good as hers, or that we had half the hair that he does. And you know, we do this at church too. We notice that their cookies don’t look misshapen and burnt at the potluck; we see that they not only attend worship each week, but also go to Sunday School and volunteer at the food pantry; we stand for a hymn and realize that while we can’t carry a tune in a bucket, they are singing notes we can’t even read in beautiful harmony. It seems, no matter where we fall on some social ladder, we look at those around us and it seems they have it more together than we do, and we are jealous. And while a lot of times this becomes about material possessions, the “stuff” in our lives and our ability to get our hands on it, the root of the issue is not so much the stuff, but our obsession with who is “in” and who is “out,” and our ego’s deep need to be “in.”

The early church also struggled with this question. Following the radical whirlwind that was Jesus’ life, death, and resurrection, Christ-followers and new believers set out to figure out what it meant to be the church. We see glimpses of it in the gospels, but the real meat of their predicaments (pun intended) is found in the book of Acts and the epistles. One of the central questions? What it meant to reconcile a new faith community that included both Jews and Gentiles. These were not small questions, either. Mark Douglas notes that:

How much like a Jew does a Gentile need to be in order to be a Christian? . . . is the central moral question for the early church because it is a deeply theological question. God made promises to Abraham and Abraham’s heirs. Gentiles are not natural heirs. So how do God’s promises apply? If the promises apply to Gentiles, God seemingly treats Israel in an arbitrary way. If they apply to Jews, then how does the crucified Jesus matter to Jews? . . . On the one hand, the new church could worship a God who is willing to break promises – but that will take them away from their claim that Jesus is Emmanuel, God with us. On the other hand, they can pursue a vision of the continuing faithfulness of God’s promises to Abraham – which seemingly excludes Gentiles and makes the new gospel of the crucified Lord irrelevant to Jews[ii].

Imagine, if you will, that the early Christians, those Jews who believed that Christ was the Messiah, were like the Sneetches with stars on their bellies. They had their rhythms and routines figured out, and stuck together. They were the chosen ones, set apart. They’re not too keen on anyone else joining what they have. Or maybe they’d be willing to accept newcomers, as long as they began to look and act just like them.

James Kemp offers:

This story is rich with social commentary about how fallen human beings search for ways to make divisions among themselves. It also makes a statement about those who have a vested interest in keeping people divided and at war because they can sell their products to both sides[iii].

If we follow Seuss’s story, it’s pretty clear that the truth of the matter is we like to be set apart and special, and don’t like when things disrupt that status quo.

But, now, how in the world will we know,” they all frowned,
“if which kind is what, or the other way round?”[iv]

We are so quick to provide those answers, aren’t we? And we’re willing to go to some pretty extraordinary, and expensive, lengths to keep things the way they are. Instead of being focused on what unites us, we too-often become “starry-eyed” and obsessed with those things that may or may not set us apart and certainly divide us.

I think that’s because, at the heart of it, we are afraid that we aren’t enough, and so we let our fear drive us to put others down so we won’t feel like we’re on the bottom. One of my favorite devotional sites, d365.org, begins with a thought-provoking “pause” each day. The theme this week was “fear less,” and began with these words, which I think challenge the “starry-eyed” parts of us:

            Our world appears to thrive and profit from our fear –
            Fear of those different from us,
            Fear of insignificance and isolation,
            Fear that our secret shames might come to light.
            Could there be another way to live?
            Is it possible to fear less?[v]

The early church was living in a time of fear, when everything in their world, religiously and secularly, were shifting in dramatic ways. For a community set up against the challenging context of the Roman Empire, the Galatians had to rethink both their theology and their politics as those from the secular world became a part of their faith, or of some new faith that was emerging. All of a sudden, the church was full of people juggling multiple, and often conflicting, identities, with different understandings about things like what to eat, and what do with their bodies (i.e. circumcision). Paul spends a lot of time sorting out what no doubt were long lists of contentious questions about how things were supposed to work, rooted in a sense of the early church wanting to remain special, starred, rather than invite everyone in.

Our text for today is the high point of Paul’s letter. You get the sense that he is at a point of exasperation, following detailed conversation about nuances of the law. It’s as if he throws his pen across the room, and grabs his hair screaming at them for their obsession with the details. “GROW UP!” he might have shouted, noting that their quest for who is “in” and who is “out” was like teenage girl cliques or childhood clubhouses. They can’t see the forest for the trees. Or, quite literally, I wonder if Paul adopted the phrase that I have started using when I get in the weeds of minutia myself in ministry, “Jesus Christ did not die for this.” So Paul comes back to the central point of the gospel: that in Christ, God was doing a new thing. A new family has been formed, one that breaks down every boundary imaginable. Social distinctions are obliterated.

Paul says that Christ alone matters: Christ our unity, Christ our focus, Christ the line of energy along which relationships run, Christ the beginning and the end, Christ the cause for which we live, Christ from which nothing can take us, not even death – especially not death[vi].

Paul writes:

Among us you are all equal. That is, we are all in a common relationship with Jesus
Christ[vii].

Dr. Seuss says:

Sneetches are Sneetches and no kind of Sneetch is the best on the beaches. That day, all the Sneetches forgot about stars and whether they had one, or not, upon thars[viii].

This is a vision for the church of the future; to truly be one in Christ Jesus.
Proclaiming and celebrating unity in the church means learning from our differences instead of allowing them to divide us. It means encouraging others and not boasting about our own accomplishments. It means courting a spirit of gratitude instead of pride. It means that we cannot separate love for God from love for one another[ix].

Living this way is not just for Christians or the church exclusively. This is the approach to community that should be our goal; to recognize that people are people, and that every. single. person. in this world is a beloved child of God. That doesn’t mean that we don’t notice our differences. Indeed, that’s also dangerous and detrimental. We don’t need to ignore the things that make us distinct. But we shouldn’t let those things that make us different be what drives us apart. Why? Because the God who created us, the Savior who died for us, and the Spirit who both scatters and gathers us together, is so much bigger than that.

And because we are brought together in the one who is indeed that big, we need not be afraid of anything; not those things that make us different from each other, not those forces in the world that are pushing against us, not the thing that keeps us up at night, or is that we can’t even bring ourselves to say, not even death itself. So maybe, just maybe, we can be as smart as the Sneetches, and recognize that there are McBean’s all around us, seeking to divide us and make money off of our fear, but that, in the end, it doesn’t matter if we have stars on our bellies or not. Realizing that is realizing God’s overwhelming grace. A grace so powerful that it allows us to step out of the relentless lines going in and out, and instead embrace a new reality and identity as children of God. Together. For in Christ Jesus, we are indeed one. May we be smart enough to realize this is the truth, and go and live like it. Amen.

~sermon preached by Rev. Elizabeth Lovell Milford, July 28, 2019

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[i] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Keeping_up_with_the_Joneses
[ii] Mark Douglas, “Theological Perspective: Galatians 3:23-29,” Feasting on the Word, Year C, Volume 3, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, editors, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2010).
[iii] James W. Kemp, The Gospel According to Dr. Seuss, (Valley Forge, PA: Judson Press, 2004)
[iv] Seuss.
[v] “Pause,” www.d365.org, week of July 22-28, 2019, written by Joshua Hays
[vi] Carol E. Holtz-Martin, “Homiletical Perspective: Galatians 3:23-29,” Feasting on the Word, Year C, Volume 3, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, editors, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2010).
[vii] Galatians 3:28, The Message
[viii] Dr. Seuss, The Sneetches and Other Stories, (New York: Random House, 1961).
[ix] Kemp.

Sunday’s Sermon – Sent – Luke 10:1-11

July 14, 2019 Leave a Comment

“Congratulations! Today is your day!” our book this week begins. It could also be a modernization of Jesus’ instructions to his disciples. While often we think about Jesus sending the disciples out into the world with the Great Commission in Matthew 28 which called us into worship this morning, our text from the gospel of Luke reveals another sending of the disciples that is equally compelling. On his way toward Jerusalem, Jesus sends out disciples to spread the good news to all the world. And did you catch the number? It’s more than “the 12” we tend to cite. It’s 70, and that number is significant. It mirrors the number presented in the list of all nations in Genesis 10 alongside the story of the tower of Babel. Thus, we are meant to understand it to be complete. It is a monumental moment in the gospel, furthering Luke’s insistence on sharing stories that reveal God’s desire for the gospel to truly be for all peoples and all nations, a theme that continues well into the book of Acts. One step further, this is a story about what it means to be in community together. The disciples are even sent out two-by-two. Mitties McDonald DeChamplain offers that:

Jesus is clearly affirming that proclaiming the good news of the kingdom is not a solo performance, but a communal and relational activity – a concert of the whole body of those commissioned. The message is ever inclusive and expansive[i].

But, before the disciples can race on their way, Jesus has some words of wisdom for what they might expect. He lays out the possibilities for them for the road ahead. You know the countless locker room scenes shown in tv, the movies, or even real-life sporting event coverage? The coach tends to have an uplifting, inspiring speech. The players are captivated and focused, and everyone leaves cheering because of how pumped up they are? Yeah – this isn’t quite that pep talk. You see, Jesus lays out for them not just the exciting and wonderful good news that is the message they will deliver; he also tells them to brace for things that are difficult. They’ll have to figure out their way without carrying much of anything with them. But more disturbing, they may face total rejection. Here in 11 verses, Jesus describes what life looks like as a disciple, and it’s full of ups and downs.

Dr. Seuss’s last book, published in 1990, was Oh! The Places You’ll Go!. It quickly became a best-seller and reached #1 on the New York Times Bestseller list. It still remains near the top of those lists, especially in the springtime, when there is a bump as it’s purchased for its words of wisdom to new graduates. Ready for the roller coaster? The book begins with that uplifting notion, quite literally with a hot air balloon soaring. But then bang-ups and hang-ups happen. You can be left in the Lurch. Confusion sets in on which way to go. You get stalled out in the tediousness of waiting. Until you don’t, and then you’re barreling ahead to fame and fortune. Or the bottom can fall out and leave you lonely, or scared. Surrounded by fears that threaten to overwhelm. And you get mixed up with all sorts of strange birds. But you can, and will, do amazing and marvelous things in the end. Whew! It’s a whirlwind of experiences, all wrapped up neatly in rhyme. But, isn’t it also a depiction of the realities of the journeys of life?

That same kind of comprehensive description of the way things might be is what Jesus gives to the disciples in Luke’s gospel. I love that Jesus paints such a realistic picture of life. He doesn’t look at the crowds that have been following them and promise them something that is perfect. He doesn’t promise riches or good health or any form of guaranteed benefit for doing this work. Being a disciple of Jesus Christ is not a guarantee of “the good life” here and now. In fact, sometimes it’s quite the opposite. DeChamplain continues saying:

The reality that many things can devour and diminish the commitment of Jesus’ disciples, and the likelihood of rejection on the journey is strong. Those commissioned, however, are not to be people pleasers but God bearers – offering God’s peace to all[ii].

Some days, that will be received well, and community will be formed. Meals will be shared, people will be healed, and the kingdom of God will be glimpsed. But other times, well, it’s just not pretty. And when that happens, Jesus calls his disciples to leave, and not even take the dust from that place with them on their feet. Move on, there is more journeying to do.

We often like to imagine that beautiful mountaintop scene from Matthew, with discipleship being all about going out, preaching the gospel, baptizing babies, and celebrating God’s presence with everyone joining hands and singing happily. But Luke’s version of the kingdom of God is grittier than that, reflecting that life as a disciple can be a bit of a roller coaster. Personally, I find that kind of honesty about life refreshing, because it carves out space for God to be a part of every aspect of our journeys, with us at every twist and turn in the road. And if we know that to be the case from the start, it might be easier for us to find God in the midst of the “Great Balancing Act” we know as life. And if we can do that, we might have a chance at this thing called discipleship.

We know that living a life of faith has its ups and downs. Some days, we are filled with the Holy Spirit and enthusiastic about spiritual practices. Our prayer life feels focused, we are eager to read the Bible or some other devotion. We serve others with love and compassion. We might even come to church with a spring in our step, excited about participating. The music is uplifting and the sermon really hits home with us. Other days, though, it’s not so easy. Our Bibles gather dust on the shelf because life is too chaotic. We rush through prayers or forget them all-together. We would rather hit snooze or go to brunch than attend worship. Or maybe the sermon is a dud. It happens. Or, we want to engage in fellowship, but feel disconnected from others. Maybe we fight some with each other, or grieve the loss of what once was in our faith communities. The list goes on. If we took stock of our lives, attentive to the faith aspects, I imagine we’d also find it full of ups and downs. The good news of today’s text, I think, is that Jesus tells us that’s normal and to be expected. He also calls us to go anyway.

Robert Short gives us wisdom for the journey, saying:

To get lots of mileage, you must have a great mission. If you really want to go great places, then you’ve got to have something great to go for. The greater the goal, the farther you’ll go . . . Furthermore, if you really want to be unconquerable in this quest, if you want to be a winner no matter what happens, then what you are going for must also be unconquerable. It must already be the winner[iii].

He then reassures us that all of this can be accomplished (yes, we’ll do great things! Move mountains even!) – not because of us, but because the work has already been accomplished in Jesus Christ. We are simply called to take that message into the world and share it in as many ways and in as many places as we can, trusting that God has been, is, and will be, responsible for what happens from there.

Two lesser-known theologians, Jake and Elwood Blues quipped “We’re on a mission from God!” Being disciples is not just about coming to worship and professing faith in Jesus Christ as Lord and Savior. It’s about recognizing that our Lord and Savior launches us into the world. We were not meant to be stagnant beings just biding the time until Jesus comes back. No, we are to go ahead and proclaim his coming. That’s what the seventy were sent to do in Luke, and two thousand years later what we are called to as well.

I think we often forget this part of discipleship – the going part. Especially as a community of faith. Sometimes we treat the church too much like a destination and endpoint for our faith, an offramp instead of an on-ramp on which we accelerate into the world. Carol Howard Merritt challenges us on this complacency, saying:

Too often Christians are shut up in sanctuaries, concerned about leaky roofs and outdated boilers, counting the attendance, and wringing their hands because people do not seem to be worshiping God as they did in the past. Congregations spend so much time caring for their own and feeling anxious about their demise that they sometimes forget that they, like the seventy, have been sent out with the gospel of God’s love and justice and mercy. How can we get out of the pews and join in the mission of God to the world? How, like the seventy, do congregations recognize and embrace their active participation in the reconciling work of God beyond the narrow confines of their own fears and needs?[iv].

The answer, I think, lies in our ability to simply keep going, and stay focused on the call we have been given as disciples. Ultimately, that’s what Jesus tells his followers to do. Don’t carry extra things that will distract or weigh you down, rejoice in the message you’ve been given without trying to bounce around from place to place, and if things happen that block or impede the message, just move on.

In addition to the words from Jesus and Dr. Seuss, this morning we might borrow the lyrics of another poet, Frank Lebby Stanton, who was a popular editorial columnist for the Atlanta Constitution who was named Georgia’s first Poet Laureate in 1925. Among his many writings is a turn of the century poem titled, “Keep a’Goin.” It reads:

If you strike a thorn or rose, Keep a-goin’!
If it hails or if it snows, keep a-goin’!
‘Tain’t no use to sit and whine when the fish ain’t on your line;
Bait your hook an’ keep a-tryin’- keep a-goin’!

When the weather kills your crop, keep a-goin’!
Though it’s work to reach the top, keep a-goin’!
S’pose you’re out o’ ev’ry dime, getting’ broke ain’t any crime;
Tell the world you’re feelin’ prime – keep a-goin’!

When it looks like all is up, keep a-goin’!
Drain the sweetness from the cup, keep a-goin’!
See the wild birds on the wing, hear the bells that sweetly ring,
When you feel like sigin’, sing – keep a-goin’![v]

No matter what, we are called to keep going on the mission Christ has given us – to go into the world, our topsy-turvy, chaotic, ups and downs world, and share what we know to be good news, the very gospel itself. So, let’s do it. We’ve got writers giving us inspiration, Christ himself cheering us on, and we aren’t alone; we get to do this together. Today is our day! With God’s help, we’re off to great places! So, let’s get on our way! Amen.

~Sermon preached by Rev. Elizabeth Lovell Milford, July 14, 2019

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[i] Mitties McDonald DeChamplain, “Homiletical Perspective: Luke 10:1-11, 16-20.” Feasting on the Word: Year C, Volume 3, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, editors. (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2010).

[ii] Mitties McDonald DeChamplain, “Homiletical Perspective: Luke 10:1-11, 16-20.” Feasting on the Word: Year C, Volume 3, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, editors. (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2010).

[iii] Robert L. Short, The Parables of Dr. Seuss, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2008).

[iv] Carol Howard Merritt, “Pastoral Perspective: Luke 10:1-11, 16-20.” Feasting on the Word: Year C, Volume 3, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, editors. (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2010).

[v] https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/7/7b/KEEP_A-GOIN%27_by_Frank_Lebby_Stanton_1c.jpg

Sunday’s Sermon – Picky Eaters – John 6

July 7, 2019 Leave a Comment

How many of you consider yourselves “picky eaters?” I asked this question on my Facebook page earlier this week, asking for rankings on a scale of 1-10. A few placed themselves midway, weighing various dietary choices and decreeing certain foods as anathema, from peanut butter to green peas, while others admitted to all out pickiness at the top of the scale. But the majority of my friends seem to rate themselves a 1 or 2 on a scale of 1-10, many claiming they “eat anything.”

I wonder how the disciples would have answered, particularly after hearing Jesus’ lengthy description in John 6. These almost 40 verses, some of which we read this morning, are known as the “Bread of Life Discourse.” They come in the gospel text following familiar stories like the feeding of the 5,000, and Jesus walking on water. Now, Jesus settles in the synagogue in Capernaum and tries to explain to those who have gathered what is going on.

“I am the bread of life.” It is one of seven “I am” sayings in John’s gospel that unveil who Jesus is. They echo God’s voice from the burning bush in Exodus, revealing the presence of the divine. Throughout the gospel, Jesus himself lays out that God’s ancient promises are being fulfilled, noting that the ability for all to come to him depends only upon hearing and learning[i]. The people have been following with many questions, eager for additional proofs so that they might believe. Here, Jesus provides with, as David Hull describes it, a symbol that would have had rich meaning and immediate understanding to his audience. He notes:

Today we use utensils to move the food from a plate into our mouths. Bread is often served at meals, but it is seen as a “starter” or a “side.” Many who are watching their diets choose to forgo the bread. Therefore, when we hear that Jesus is “the bread of life,” we can too easily think in terms of a metaphor for something that is as optional as a dinner roll. . . The way that Jesus and his contemporaries ate was radically different from the way most Westerners eat. No utensils were used. A person ate with his food or her hands. Bread was usually used to dip into the food and bring the food from the dish to the mouth. . . The Western mind-set allows us to think of bread as an extra that we can take or leave; but Jesus was operating with an image that was essential to the process of eating. . . . Bread, then, was not an extra to be chosen or omitted; it was how persons accessed the food that was placed before them. According to John’s Gospel, then, the incarnation is the means by which we can access and partake of the life that God offers us. . . . Life is the main course. The “bread” is how we are able to receive the main course[ii].

In this passage, Jesus connects all of the dots, and lays it on a platter, if you will, almost literally for those who would listen, and invites them to join the feast. His words are graphic and visceral, carrying weight and impact that would have made those listening take notice. The fullness of God presented in dramatic fashion, ready for the taking.

But did you catch the response of those who heard it? Of the religious leaders and even his own disciples who had been following him? They are full of doubts and speculations, and scrutiny. It must have looked like trying to get a baby to eat green beans. In a study just over 10 years ago by researchers Forestell and Mennella, they introduced pureed green beans to a group of infants for the first time. Their reactions were as you might expect:

95% of the babies squinted

82% waggled their brows

76% raised their upper lips

42% wrinkled their noses

In short, babies looked disgusted, and the more disgusted they looked, the more slowly they ate[iii]!

Here Jesus is in John 6, spoon-feeding the very words of life to all who will hear, offering them that which will sustain, and they are turning up their noses at it.

As 21^st Century Christians, we like to imagine that we would have seen Jesus and immediately known that he was the Messiah. We call ourselves disciples, indicating that he is the one we would have chosen to follow. We have the great benefit of knowing more of the story, and with 20/20 hindsight we can easily claim we would have been believers. If Jesus had shown up and said “I am the bread of life” in front of us, we would have gobbled it up, right? Maybe, or maybe not. Those who followed Jesus, even those closest to him, pushed back in this passage as they tried to make sense of it. You see, what we often forget is that Jesus was so provocative and innovative that he often stunned those gathered crowds. He left them scratching their heads, trying to figure out what it all meant. Jesus was in the business of change, and that wasn’t always readily accepted. He might as well have been offering them, well, Green Eggs and Ham.

In this classic by Dr. Seuss, the unnamed resistor is adamant about not trying what is offered to him from the enthusiastic Sam-I-Am. And so, Sam gets creative, offering different ways of hearing it and experiencing it in hopes of enticing him to take a bite. But each time, the creature resists. He doesn’t even list excuses or reasons. He simply repeats his dislike for green eggs and ham under any circumstances. He is, for the majority of the book, unable to even entertain the possibility of such a new dish that is unlike anything he knows or likes.

If we’re really honest, rather than jump in with two feet at what Christ himself would call us to do, we are a bit more like that character in the book. Writer James Kemp offers:

So many times in life we, like Sam’s friend, initially resist something that ultimately we might like, or something that ultimately we need whether we like it or not. We are hesitant to try new things, resistant to hearing new ideas or perspectives, especially when those new perspectives make us uncomfortable . . . It’s far easier to insist that we don’t like green eggs and ham than it is to try on a new way of looking at things, especially if the new message might reflect negatively on what we’ve been doing up to now[iv].

And so we resist change. We resist things that put us outside of our comfort zones. We tear things apart and seek to discredit rather than open ourselves to the possibility of learning something new.

Anne Lamott wrote that “the opposite of faith is not doubt, but certainty[v]”. Sam’s friend was sure that he knew he would not like Green Eggs and Ham, even though he had never tried them. His certainty blocked his ability to have faith in what Sam might have been offering him. Have you ever resisted something simply on principle? Simply because it was new? Could you imagine what that might be like in your faith life?

Today, I’d invite you to consider what spiritual foods Jesus might be offering you that you have either flat our refused, or have been pushing around your plate for some time. Maybe it’s a spiritual practice, or way of prayer. Perhaps it’s some nudging that you keep getting a sense you’re supposed to do as a way to live out God’s love in this world, but just haven’t been able to get the fork to your mouth, so to speak. Or maybe it’s something you just can’t imagine working for you at all. Would you like it here or there? Could you, would you? What would it mean for you to test out those waters and stretch yourself in faith.

A word of caution here: I’m not suggesting that anything goes, or that you’ll like everything. I’ve heard of homes where people take “no thank-you bites”; in my house you take the number of bites equal to your age before you see if you do or don’t like something. But here’s the thing – you don’t know until you try. And sometimes, especially if you know that it’s something that is good and healthy for you, it’s worth the discipline of trying.

Remember those babies who were given green beans? They survived. In fact, after gentle introduction and offering those green beans to the babies eight to ten days in a row, it appeared they got over their initial dislike of the vegetables. It just took time. Just over a week later, those babies were eating three times as much pureed green beans as they did on their first experience[vi]. Other studies have had similar findings, prompting the advice for parents to *gently* introduce new foods multiple times, a dozen or more even, rather than give up on a particular food after one refusal. Persistence, it seems, pays off a bit.

Maybe this is why Jesus spent almost 40 verses repeating himself about being the way in which God was revealed to the world. Maybe this is why he continued to teach using parables and sit with people in the synagogue and heal and perform miracles. He used every way possible to get the disciples and others who had gathered to understand what was going on and what God was about. And maybe of the best truths about the good news of Christ’s resurrection is that God isn’t done with the world yet. Jesus continues to move among us, surprising us and demonstrating God’s power in this world. Course after course, God delivers us the bread of life. Over and over it is offered to us, the feast of grace and wholeness, the transforming possibility of new life. We get a taste of it every time we gather together as God’s people; every time we come forward to this table.

This meal, known as Communion, or the Lord’s Supper, is also called the Eucharist, which simply means “thanksgiving.” It is our moment, as those who have experienced the gospel of the gospel, to come together and say, as the character does at the end of the book, “Thank you, thank you, Sam-I-Am!” It is a meal of grace, where we offer our praise to God. It is also a time when we get another taste of the good news God has to offer.

Through Jesus Christ, the feast has been prepared, and we are all invited. So may we not be so quick to protest; instead, may we dare to come and eat, to taste and see that the Lord our God is good. Amen.

~sermon preached by Rev. Elizabeth Lovell Milford, Heritage Presbyterian Church, July 7, 2019

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[i] Richard Manly Adams, Jr, “Exegetical Perspective: John 6:41-51,” Feasting on the Gospels, John, Volume 1, Cynthia A. Jarvis and E. Elizabeth Johnson, editors (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2015)

[ii] David W. Hull, “Homiletical Perspective: John 6:41-51,” Feasting on the Gospels, John, Volume 1, Cynthia A. Jarvis and E. Elizabeth Johnson, editors (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2015)

[iii] https://www.parentingscience.com/how-to-start-babies-on-solid-food.html; https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/18055673

[iv] James W. Kemp, The Gospel According to Dr. Seuss, (Valley Forge, PA: Judson Press, 2004)

[v] Anne Lamott, Plan B: Further Thoughts on Faith, (New York: Riverhead Trade, 2006), 256-57., as quoted by Margrey R. Devega, “Pastoral Perspective: John 6:41-51,” Feasting on the Gospels, John, Volume 1, Cynthia A. Jarvis and E. Elizabeth Johnson, editors (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2015)

[vi] https://www.parentingscience.com/how-to-start-babies-on-solid-food.html; https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/18055673

Sunday’s Sermon – Shout Outs – Luke 19:28-40; Psalm 118:1-2, 19-29 – Palm Sunday

April 14, 2019 Leave a Comment

Have you ever been to a concert or other large group event, and had the leader on the stage either start or end the time with a “THANK YOUUUUUUUU!!!” and results in wild applause? When celebrities are interviewed on late night shows in front of live audiences, and mention where they’re from, invariably there will be a “woot!” from the crowd, or some exclamation that they appreciate or are from the same location. They are “shout outs”- public expressions of thanks or gratitude. Typically, the phrase is reserved for when it happens on tv or the radio, but I would offer they happen in other ways, too: from mentions and tags on social media to dedications in the covers of books to those named in acceptance speeches. They are positive ways that we name those to whom we are aligned.

This morning our text is a shout out. Specifically, from Jesus’ disciples to let people know who Jesus was. Each of the gospels tells of this entry into Jerusalem with a little bit of a unique spin. In the case of Luke’s gospel, there are no palms or tree branches, for which this Sunday is given its title. But we do have the disciples laying out their cloaks. They weren’t doing this to cover puddles; it was a sign of the utmost respect, usually reserved for royalty. By lining the road with their garments, they were declaring Jesus as king. This fits well, of course, with his entry on the humble donkey, a sign which the prophet Zechariah described almost exactly[i]. As he comes, the whole multitude of disciples begin to give him accolades, shout outs, along the way, echoing those of the Psalmist we heard a few moments ago.

Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord[ii].

It is a joyful celebration, as the crowd is swept into that energy.

Shouts and cheers are inevitable. It is how we respond to good news . . . with great joy. Sound familiar? Luke’s gospel is the one that recounts for us a choir of angels proclaiming the amazing news of Jesus’ birth to shepherds on a hillside. They break out in song and give a “shout-out” of glory to God. William G. Carter notes that Palm Sunday mirrors this proclamation, even down to the message:

When Jesus was born, the Gospel writer tells us that angels appeared to sing, “Peace on earth” (Luke 2:14)[iii].

This joyful parade is a response to the amazing news of the incarnation. Now, the disciples seem to get it. This is the long-awaited for king. The Messiah has arrived! Good news is contagious, and it builds. The community is celebrating!

Now, as Jesus rides his colt toward Jerusalem, the people look to the sky and sing, “Peace in heaven.” Heaven sings of peace on earth. Earth echoes back, “peace in heaven.”[iv]

Palm Sunday, he offers, is a liturgical act between us and God. It is similar to the feeling we get when we gather for worship, we stand and greet each other in Christ’s name: the peace of Christ be with you (and also with you). There’s a joyful bubbling up of talking and laughter as we engage with each other. It is a boisterous time in our worship service. So much so that it stands to wonder what would happen if Denise didn’t give you a musical cue to sit back down. Would we even get to the worship that is planned for the day?

SOME of the pharisees witnessing this event might have had the same question. They saw the energy brimming and were concerned. Perhaps they anticipated that there would be a riot; maybe they were unsatisfied over the cries that Jesus was king; or disturbed by the attention that Jesus and his followers might get from the Roman authorities especially with such a royal fanfare on display. They wanted Jesus to put an end to it. To get everyone back in line, to dull the roar.

But some messages can’t be silenced.

Jesus’ famous line “if these were silent, the stones would shout out.” (verse 40) echo the prophetic warning in Habbakuk 2:9-11, as the prophet declares that injustice will no longer prevail, for the very stones of the house built on corruption “will cry out from the wall.” This quote foreshadows what is coming up next in the gospel narrative, as Jesus will turn over tables and clear the temple, but also points to the bigger picture of the gospel as good news. Fred Craddock offers this on Jesus’ reply:

In other words, some things simply must be said; the disciples are expressing what is ultimately and finally true; God will provide a witness through every mouth be stopped; opposition to Christian witness cannot succeed; and the truth will come out, it cannot long be silenced[v].

Do you know the expression “if these walls could talk?” It usually refers to something that is going to be hidden. The stones shouting is the opposite of this idea. Jesus says this is a message that is not going away. It isn’t one that can be buried or hidden. In fact, it’s about to go viral. So much so that even if the disciples were quieted, the very stones that make up Jerusalem would shout it out.

The stones tell the story: lining the way into the city and celebrating the arrival of a king, crying out from the wall at injustice in the temple, leading up the stairs to a shared meal in the upper room, a resting place for clasped hands in the garden of Gethsemane, a wall to push against in a courtyard as the rooster crows three times, rough under the feet on the way to the cross, and finally heavy and large rolled in front of the tomb. Over and over again, the stones tell the story. Even if everything else is silenced, they shout out the fullness of what God is doing. They lead us, step by step, on the path into Jerusalem and into this most holy of weeks.

Can you imagine the story they could tell? William Klein suggests that:

The singing stones’ song on the day Jesus entered the city would sing, not just for joy at the coming of a gracious king, but also for grief and lamentation – like Rachel weeping over her children, like Jesus weeping over the city. Their song would be a cry rising from any boulevard of broken dreams across this planet where God’s people have suffered[vi].

In other gospel texts, the people along the road shout “Hosanna!” or “save us!” Even if the disciples are silenced, the stones will continue this cry and prayers for a Savior.

The history of God’s people is rich in the roads and walls of Jerusalem, something that was true in the first century and still is true today. When I was in seminary, I had the amazing opportunity to spend 3 weeks in a May term class traveling all over the holy land. Our final destination was Jerusalem, where we literally walked in the path of Jesus. On our first evening, we walked to the western wall of the old city. This holy place, also called the Wailing Wall, is a place devoted to prayer, from orthodox Jews to Christian pilgrims, many gather in different ways to offer their prayers at a place some believe to be the closest point to the holiest of holy places where God resides. One of the practices there is to write your prayer on a slip of paper, and slide it into the cracks of the wall. Many of us did so, and I can tell you the placing of a prayer into the wall is a surreal experience. I found myself drawn into a quiet and stillness. The only words that came to mind as I stood there in silence were the Lord’s Prayer, and I remember praying that at the wall, “thy kingdom come, thy will be done” alongside fellow pilgrims and those who were Jewish, and hearing the evening call to prayer for Muslims sounding. It was a profound moment of prayer, interlaced with stone.

The stones of Jerusalem continue to tell the story of God’s people, shouting out prayers of longing for a Savior and for God’s power to be revealed in this world. The stones of Jerusalem continue to cry out for peace, a peace that perhaps can only come from heaven. The stones of Jerusalem continue to shout in praise for a God through whom all things are possible, one who comes as king in the surprise of a humble colt. The stones will continue to shout even if all else is silenced. But may that not be so. May we be so bold, as we enter the stories of Jerusalem this week, to join in shouting out. For the king has come. Hosanna! May there be peace on earth . . . as it is in heaven. Amen.

~sermon by Rev. Elizabeth Lovell Milford, Heritage Presbyterian Church, April 14, 2019 (Palm Sunday)

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[i] “Rejoice greatly, O daughter Zion! Shout aloud, O daughter Jerusalem! Lo, your king comes to you; triumphant and victorious is he, humble and riding on a donkey, on a colt, the foal of a donkey.” Zechariah 9:9

[ii] Psalm 118:26.

[iii] William G. Carter, “Pastoral Perspective: Luke 19:28-40,” Feasting on the Word: Year C, Volume 2, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, editors (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009).

[iv] William G. Carter, “Pastoral Perspective: Luke 19:28-40,” Feasting on the Word: Year C, Volume 2, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, editors (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009).

[v] Fred B. Craddock, Interpretation: Luke, (Louisville, KY: John Knox Press 1990).

[vi] William M. Klein, “Theological Perspective: Luke 19:29-40,” Feasting on the Gospels: Luke, Volume 2, Cynthia A. Jarvis and E. Elizabeth Johnson, editors, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2014).

Sunday’s Sermon – Tempted – Matthew 4:1-11, Psalm 91:1-2, 9-16

March 10, 2019 Leave a Comment

I’m a big fan of game shows, especially ones where you can play along. Lately I’ve been enjoying reruns on the Game Show Network of Family Feud and a new show, What America Says. Both are survey-based, where contestants guess what a sample of people have answered to a given question. On this first Sunday of Lent, I want to invite you to play a round with me. The question, given to over 1,000 people, is “What is your greatest temptation?”

[allow time for guesses from congregation]

On Scout Sunday, this might be unfairly biased. How many of you thought about Girl Scout cookies? Six year ago, the Barna group actually did conduct such a survey, with results that I think still hold up today[i].

60% of Americans said they were tempted to worry or be anxious and the same number said procrastination or putting things off was a serious temptation for them. Nearly 55% were tempted to overeat. 44% say they were tempted to spend too much time with media, including the Internet, television, and video games. Relating to the media use, 1 out of 9 Americans said they often or sometimes feel tempted to express anger and “go off” on someone by text or e-mail. These top three temptations, worrying or procrastination, overeating, and overuse of media, in and of themselves are a commentary about our everyday struggles in the 21^st century. Next on the list was laziness, followed by more “traditional” temptations of spending too much money (35%), gossiping or saying mean things about others (26%), jealousy (24%). And finally, perhaps underreported, lying, cheating, alcohol, and drugs, all come in at around the same percentage. The study also noted that the more serious a temptation or sin was, the less likely people were to admit to struggling with it. Surprisingly, there was parity between men and women’s answers, although women seemed more likely to admit they were tempted.

Generationally, there were not many differences, either. Older adults were more likely to admit to eating too much, with younger millennials being slightly higher on digital addictions, but on the whole the replies held true across the generations.

By this survey, one could conclude that we are surrounded by temptation; those dangling carrots that easily lead us astray. Pastor and Author Tom Hunter wrote a book in conjunction with this survey titled Our Favorite Sins: The Sins We Commit and How You Can Quit. In it he argues that “all temptations start with a desire for something good: tasty food, rest, intimacy. They become ‘disordered’ when they enslave people and spread pain throughout their lives, [and] disordered desires imprison us. . . in the end, they give us nothing – not one lasting shred of goodness, freedom, joy, or love[ii].” As Christians, we easily make the connection with temptation and sin.

However, David Kinnaman, president of the Barna group, noted that “only 1% of Americans of any age are able to articulate that giving into temptation might be caused by sin. Most Americans think of temptation more as a steady stream of highs and lows that must be navigated[iii].”

Temptations remind us of the very real choices that we have in life. They are a part of our everyday existence, from the big to the small. From a theological perspective, they might reflect the choice between God and God’s way and something else. Theologian D.T. Niles reminds us of the challenge of our predicament, saying:

Both make promises, both demand loyalty. . . If there were no real alternative to God, all [humanity] would choose [God]. Indeed, God is the more difficult choice to justify in terms of provable results[iv].

We would all be good at resisting temptation if it were easy. The trouble is, temptation is enticing. Sin can even be . . . fun. The odds seem stacked against us. We are human beings, prone to sin. Reformer John Calvin even went so far as to call us worms, totally depraved, incapable of not sinning. This cynical approach is both appealing and discouraging, and can let us wonder if we are simply being set up to fail?

The answer, of course, is no. I don’t believe that God sets us up to fail. But I do believe that because God has given us the gift of free will, we, perhaps more often than not, are going to make mistakes and end up in hot water. That’s why stories like Jesus’ temptation in the wilderness are so important. They help give us a sense of what it means to have faith in the midst of the very real, troublesome, surrounded-by-temptation-and-sin lives that we know to be true.

This is how we begin the season of Lent, 40 days of our own wandering in the wilderness, just as the Israelites did for 40 years when they departed from Egypt, and as Jesus did for 40 days immediately following his baptism. As Evelyn Underhill states, “No Christian escapes a taste of the wilderness on the way to the Promised Land[v].” We begin with the reminder of how we are a people in need of forgiveness, with ashes on our foreheads. “Remember you are dust, and to dust you shall return[vi].” It is a season of preparation. While stores are busy preparing the aisles with wicker baskets and plastic eggs, we pause to take time to focus on whatever it is that we need to do to cleanse ourselves and reconcile ourselves to God.

This introspection and examination is a struggle, and more often than not leads us to confront that which tempts us. Hunter speaks frankly about the challenge of beating temptation, and also the reason it’s worth it, saying:

Beating temptation requires a struggle because it always involves sorting out rightly ordered desires for good and godly things from our disordered desires for wrong things. We often experience these disordered desires as our most powerful and deeply rooted desires. Uprooting disordered desires involves personal, psychological, and spiritual suffering. But this death produces life, life, and more life – life more abundant. However, a journey of focused, grace-enabled struggle is required to get there[vii].

Lent is our focused, grace-enabled struggle. Traditionally there are three spiritual disciplines of Lent: prayer, fasting, and the giving of alms. In these, we focus our attentions on developing our relationship with God. Through prayer, we increase our communication, both our talking and our listening, and increase our sense of God’s presence in our lives. Prayer works at any time in any place, even when you aren’t tempted. It perhaps is the single most impactful thing we can do to strengthen our relationship with God. Fasting can mean a number of things, whether it is “giving up” something for the season, or refraining from a certain behavior that leads you into temptation or separates you from God and others. Third, the giving of alms, which can also be seen in service and mission, reminds us of the many others in need around us. It draws us into relationship with others, and gives us a positive way to respond to the world.

In all of these things, though, we must be careful not to get too caught up in the “us” part of the Lenten disciplines. It’s not about how many things we can give up, how many things we can add to our spiritual practices, how many times we showed up for the Mobile Food Pantry and how good that made us feel. If we make our Lenten practices about ourselves, we’ve missed the point, and succumbed to the great temptation of egocentrism. Lent is not about us. Lent is about drawing closer to God. And we can do this even when we are tempted.

We worship a God who has gone into temptation before us, who has himself been exhausted, famished, and caught in vulnerable and weak moments. Some of you may remember the scene from the film The Last Temptation of Christ. It is dry, disorienting, and a little scary. The time in the wilderness is fraught with danger of every kind: physical, emotional, and spiritual. The devil appears, bent on coercing Jesus into activity that surely would be a departure from the path of God. And his offers are pretty good, attempting to at once force Jesus to prove his divinity, while appealing to his humanity, driven by the base desires we all have in life. And each time, Jesus demonstrates a resistance to choosing the easy path, often relying on Scripture and his understanding of God to do so.

In this, he gives us a model of what it means to have faith in the midst of temptation. Jesus chooses to turn to God and trust that God would get him through it. Defeating temptation, then:

is not a struggle against God,” wrestling with ideals we can’t possibly achieve, “but a struggle with God against [our] disordered desires, [our] default position of radical selfishness. God is with [us] in this struggle because [God] wants my transformation more than [we] want it. [We] simply cooperate with him. Together, we reorder [our] desires[viii].

Having faith doesn’t guarantee that we will never be tempted, and it certainly doesn’t guarantee that we will never sin. Faith does, however, assure us that God is always by our side, longing to be in relationship with us, loving us in spite of ourselves, and is ever ready to share with us a grace beyond compare. When we are tempted, it is that grace that pulls us through. And if we give into temptation, it is that grace that will be there for us to get us back on track. May we, in this Lenten season, have faith in that promise, even when we are tempted. Amen.

~sermon by Rev. Elizabeth Lovell Milford, Heritage Presbyterian Church, March 10, 2019

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[i] The Barna Group, “New Research Explores the Changing Shape of Temptation.”

http://www.barna.org/culture-articles/597-new-years-resolutions-temptations-and-americas-favorite-sins, published January 4, 2013. Accessed 3/5/2019.

[ii] John Blake, “Americans Reveal their 3 Favorite Sins,” CNN Belief blog, http://religion.blogs.cnn.com/2013/02/08/americans-reveal-their-3-favorite-sins/, published 2/8/13, accessed 3/5/2019.

[iii] Blake.

[iv] D.T. Niles in The Bible Through Asian Eyes, in Imaging the Word: An Arts and Lectionary Resource, Volume 1, Kenneth T. Lawrence, Editor. (Cleveland, Ohio: United Church Press, 1994), 150.

[v] Evelyn Underhill, The Fruits of the Spirit, in Imaging the Word: An Arts and Lectionary Resource, Volume 1, Kenneth T. Lawrence, Editor. (Cleveland, Ohio: United Church Press, 1994), 151.

[vi] Genesis 3:19

[vii] Tom Hunter, Our Favorite Sins: The Sins We Commit and How You Can Quit. (Nashville, TN: Thomas Nelson, 2012), 3-4.

[viii] Hunter, 5.

Sunday’s Sermon – Here for the Party – John 2:1-11

January 20, 2019 Leave a Comment

“Weddings are accidents waiting to happen,” Robert M. Brearley notes. “Something almost always goes wrong at a service of holy matrimony[1].” What’s your favorite wedding mishap story? The week of my wedding started with Hurricane Sandy, complete with power outages and other delays. The flowers that we ordered had yet to arrive as of Friday night, sparking a local store scavenger hunt for replacements and family corsage and bouquet making party in the hotel after the rehearsal dinner. Oh, and our first dance? Right artist, but totally the wrong song. If you’re lucky, these incidents are momentary blips on the radar, destined to become humorous anecdotal stories as the years go by.

It’s an inevitable pattern that may even date back to the 1^st century. In those days, weddings lasted a full seven days and were hosted by the groom’s family, who was responsible for all of the planning. Jesus, his mother and disciples are among the wedding guests at one celebration in Cana, a town otherwise unmentioned in the Bible, located about 9 miles north of Nazareth. As the story unfolds, the wedding experience seems to match what often happens. Something goes wrong.

Specifically, they are out of wine, on only the third day. Not even halfway through the festivities, and they are out of refreshments. Here, we read about another typical wedding fact– the incredible ability of a mother to get things done. Only here, it isn’t the mother of the bride or groom – it’s the mother of God. You can imagine it, can’t you? A light bulb going off over Mary’s head; she knows someone who can fix this. And so, as mothers do, she marches over to her son and informs him of the situation. The exchange between mother and son here is remarkable, even off-putting, and is rich with theological significance. Here, at the onset of Jesus’ ministry in John, Christ is insistent that this time has yet to come. It is no more his business than anyone else’s at the wedding. And yet, his mother’s instructions to the stewards, “do whatever he tells you,” seem to indicate a trust that something is going to happen. And indeed something does.

“The essence of any miracle is that it shatters the conventional explanations and expectations, and this miracle is no exception[2].” 6 stone jars stand empty, having been used for ritual purification. Jesus takes one look at those empty jars, and instructs the stewards to fill them with water. But what is tasted from these jars isn’t the water that was pour into them. It is fine wine, nicer than any other that has been served. Let that sink in for just a minute. What was just empty, is now 120-180 GALLONS of fine wine. Sure, it doesn’t have the urgency of some of the later miracles, with illnesses being healed and hunger being relieved, but it does speak to the transformational power and love of God through Jesus Christ.

In the great theological film, Talladega Nights, Ricky Bobby’s family and friends exchange how they imagine Jesus to be. Ricky’s friend Cal offers that he likes to think of Jesus as wearing a “tuxedo t-shirt, because it says I want to be formal, but I’m here to party.” Perhaps we should view this miracle as God saying, “I’m here to party.” Not because of the unlimited open bar Jesus creates, but because of what it symbolizes.

In the Old Testament, an abundance of good wine is an eschatological symbol, a sign of the joyous arrival of God’s new age[3]” The superabundance of wine indicates the unlimited gifts that Jesus makes available. “The miracle of the wine shatters the boundaries of their conventional world, and the disciples are willing to entertain the possibility that this boundary breaking marks the inbreaking of God[4].

God is here to party. That’s not something we think a lot about, is it? But it’s true. “The sign at Cana tells us that Jesus served a God who puts joy into life, who thinks it is worth a miracle to keep the party going as we celebrate people[5].” This is Jesus’ debut moment in John’s gospel, the first sign of his work as the Messiah. And he begins with a rich overwhelming symbol of God’s abundant grace and overwhelming love. In this moment, with jars filled to the brim with the finest wine, Christ demonstrates how lavish our God is, and how much God longs to connect with us on every level. Through the incarnation, God doesn’t just observe us from on high, but who lives among us, and yes, comes to our parties. This celebration, of course, climaxes with the good news of the resurrection, when God springs forth from the tomb, letting us know once and for all that the party will go on forever.

Sundays are our resurrection days, the time we gather as a community who celebrates the empty tomb week in and week out. “University of Chicago theologian Robert Hotchkins remarks that ‘Christians ought to be celebrating constantly. We ought to be preoccupied with parties, banquets, feasts, and merriment. We ought to give ourselves over to veritable orgies of joy because we have been liberated from the fear of life and the fear of death. We ought to attract people to the church quite literally by the fun there is in being a Christian[6].” After all, “God does not want our religions to be too holy to be happy in[7].”

What does that say about our approach to worship? Perhaps we might do well to prepare for church the way some prepare for a wedding, with time, attention, and excitement. Consider how a checklist for getting ready for a wedding might apply:

Do you make the date and time a priority, as if you’ve been sent a save the date?
Are you quick to invite your “plus one,” a family member, significant other, or friend who you’d love to have join you in the fun?
Do you look at the registry and carefully consider what gift you might bring?
Have you read all of the information on the couple’s wedding website, brushing up on their story, or thinking about your own connections to them?
Do you lay out your clothes the night before, or even try out several options?
Will you make sure you arrive early to get a good seat?

There are, of course, MANY differences between weddings and worship, but you get the idea. Weddings, and other parties, are set apart as special occasions, ones that require thought and planning, and through those many steps and checklists heighten our anticipation of the joy that will be experienced. The same is true for worship, Sunday School, volunteering in service, and any other experiences we have that bring us closer to God. They are better when we take the time to prepare for them, when we make them a priority, and when we open ourselves to the possibility that they might be big moments in our lives, or at least little moments that shift something.

I believe God is calling us through this story, to step up in our lives of faith and RSVP to the party Christ is throwing. It is a big thing to ask, and for some, just coming to the party is difficult. We are like the ritual purification jars. At some point we were filled, but then we seem to get used up. We “burn out” of the “church stuff.” It becomes stale and dry, and we become empty. Perhaps we haven’t always gotten along with others we know are on the invite list. Just being in the same room with them is a challenge. Other times we just aren’t in the mood for celebration; when life has given us a slew of bad news and sad moments is overwhelming. Being around a bunch of happy celebrating people can be stomach turning. Maybe you have questions, or doubts, and if this were a wedding you’d be debating whether or not to speak up with your concerns, or be relegated to “forever hold your peace.” The wine has run out of our parties, and we’re not quite sure where to go from here.

Poet Tom Lane puts it this way,

If Jesus could transform common water into wedding wine, spit and dirt into new sight, troubled sea into a pathway, well water into living water, could Christ transform the waters of my life: shallow, murky, polluted, stagnant, sour, into a shower of blessing[8]?

The promise of our text today, though, is that Jesus comes to fill us, and fill us to the brim, with living water that is transformed into the fullness of celebration and joy. With grace and love that is lavish and abundant. With the promise of new life, and hope for restoration for all people. Jesus comes into our midst and celebrates with us wherever we are, however we are, and then leads us into an even deeper understanding of joy. The wine that Jesus provided in those once empty vessels wasn’t just cheap stuff to keep people happy for a little while; it was the finest of wines, usually what is put out first so that the guests are aware of the host’s good taste and hospitality. Its appearance at the end of this miracle story reminds us that the party will go on, and more than that, it won’t just wind down as people stumble home, it will continue and flourish. It only gets better from here.

May that be like our experience of worship, where we again are filled to the brim with the very best from God. May we continue to experience God’s abundant grace and love, and be energized by Christ, who is, here for the party, today, tomorrow, and forevermore. Amen.

~sermon by Rev. Elizabeth Lovell Milford, Heritage Presbyterian Church, January 20, 2019

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[1] Robert M. Brearley, “John 2:1-11, Pastoral Perspective.” Feasting on the Word: Year C, Volume 1, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, editors. (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009), 260.

[2] Gail O’Day, “John.” The New Interpreter’s Bible, Volume IX. (Nashville, TN: Abingdon Press, 1995), 539.

[3] O’Day, 538.

[4] O’Day, 539.

[5] Brearley, 263.

[6] Brearley, 262-4.

[7] Brearley, 262.

[8] Tom Lane, “If Jesus Could,” Imaging the Word, Volume 1 (Cleveland, Ohio: United Church Press, 1994), 116.

Sunday’s Sermon – Water and Fire – Luke 3:15-17, 21-22; Isaiah 43:1-7

January 13, 2019 Leave a Comment

Today is Baptism of the Lord Sunday! Fresh from the story of Christ’s birth, we leap ahead in the timeline some thirty-something years to the beginning of his ministry in Galilee. The story of Jesus’ baptism is shared in our Synoptic Gospels – Matthew, Mark, and Luke. All three use this event to proclaim in no uncertain terms that Jesus is the Messiah, the one for whom God’s people have been waiting. The big points are the same. Each describes John the Baptist as a wild man from the wilderness who baptizes those who repent. The authors make a point John the Baptist is not the Messiah, perhaps to quell rumors that he was. In the verses we skipped in Luke’s gospel, this is further punctuated with the note that John the Baptist was arrested by King Herod; later we will read how he is beheaded. John the Baptist steps aside, and the true Messiah, Jesus Christ, emerges from the crowd to take center stage. He has come to be baptized. His immersion is then followed by words from heaven in one form or the other. Here is where each writer also includes some unique details that give their version a slight spin, usually related to their perspective and point of emphasis for their audience. But all are again a proclamation that he is God’s beloved child. The Baptism of the Lord is Jesus’ inaugural moment into ministry. Christ’s identity is revealed. It is from this point where it all begins.

The verses leading up to the moment in the river Jordan help us make sense of what it means. In Luke’s account, our text opens with the reminder that people are filled with expectation, longing for a Messiah. John the Baptist’s words help speak to the one who is to come. He uses the imagery of the winnowing fork to describe it. I don’t know about you, but this was not a familiar analogy or metaphor to me. It likely was for the original audience in the 1^st century though. As Linda McKinnish Bridges explains:

This common agricultural illustration was frequently used in the biblical world (Ps. 1:4; Prov. 20:26, Isa. 41:15f; Jer. 15:7). The harvested grain is taken to the threshing floor and cleaned. Toss a portion of the harvested grain in the aid with a winnowing fan, a fork-like shovel, then let the wind do the work. The wind takes control of the process, separating the wheat from the chaff, a mixture of heavy husks and straw. The wheat falls away from the chaff. The chaff is collected and burned, and the wheat remains safely stored in the barn[i].

The long-awaited-for Messiah was supposed to sort things out, separate what was good from bad in the world in acts of judgment. John’s description of this cues us in to what people were looking for, and will serve as another juxtaposition as Jesus’ ministry begins and seems to be at-odds with expectations. But the illustration also points to more than just Jesus.

The illustration of wheat and chaff . . . reveals that the most active agent is the wind. The agent that does the separating of good and evil, the righteous from the unrighteous, is the Spirit. . . . [in other words], Jesus holds the shovel, and the Spirit does the work[ii].

John is clear that baptism is about more than just water; it is also about the Holy Spirit, illustrated here as wind, fire, and dove. All of these images swirl around the text like ripples on the water, calling us to look below the surface of the water, or maybe behind it.

On the outskirts of the southeast corner of Chestnut Ridge County Park in New York there is an area called Shale Creek Preserve, which features a waterfall cascading over a picturesque grotto. The rock formations are such that there are several fissures in the shale through which methane gas escapes. The gas is highly flammable, and once lit, creates a brilliant flicker known as the “eternal flame,” reaching up to 8 inches in height, visible even from a distance where it flickers for extended periods of time even as water cascades in such close proximity. It’s a curiosity for sure, and a reminder that even in nature, sometimes things that don’t seem to go together can be held in imaginative tension that leads to wonder as fire and water seem to coexist at the same time[iii].

This is similar to the images Luke gives us for baptism. Did you catch it? John the Baptist notes that while he baptizes with water; the one who comes after him (hint: that’s the Messiah, who will enter the scene just moments later), will baptize with the Holy Spirit and, yes, FIRE. It’s a bit curious, in a story all about water, to have this little nugget, nestled into the description of the Holy Spirit, and literally surrounded by references to being submerged in water. Have you ever tried to light a campfire after a rainstorm? While it’s not impossible, it certainly is difficult to get fire out of wet wood. And yet, here it is, like the eternal flame, burning amidst the currents, catching our eyes and causing us to wonder.

Paying attention to the Holy Spirit in the midst of the story of Jesus’ baptism reminds us that this sacrament is about more than just water on our heads. In fact, it’s even about more than being a part of God’s covenant and welcomed into Christ’s church. Baptism is about throwing ourselves into the wind of the Holy Spirit. This even works its way into our liturgy. After baptism, our Book of Common Worship instructs the minister to say something like this:

child of the covenant, you have been sealed by the Holy Spirt in baptism, and marked as Christ’s own forever.

As wonderful as it is to talk about the water, this morning we are reminded to not skip over the spirit, but to look for flames among the currents.

It is said that the books of Luke and Acts, both believed to be by the same author, are “books of the Holy Spirit.” They focus on the movement of this mysterious part of the Trinity in ways the other gospels don’t. In Luke’s gospel, the Spirit is already highlighted well by the time we reach this story in chapter 3. It has swept over John the Baptist’s birth, been named as the way in which Mary came to bear the Messiah in her womb, caused Elizabeth to jump for joy at Mary’s arrival, inspired Simeon in visiting the temple. As one writer notes, Luke is all about the Holy Spirit. He:

draws on language about the Holy Spirit in a variety of contexts, and he is more concerned with asserting the presence and activity of the Spirit than with charting the Spirit’s moves[iv].

Baptism reminds us of the Spirit on the move, and should “light a fire” under us in faith. It affirms that God has a purpose for us. This Baptism of the Lord Sunday challenges us to return to the waters to remember our identity as God’s own, hearing those promises from Isaiah as words for us today and celebrate that we are a part of God’s covenant, connected through Jesus Christ. We joyfully embrace this identity as God’s own, not so we can just pat ourselves on the back, but so that the Holy Spirit can descend like a dove. As Ernest Hess notes:

When heaven opens up, something real descends and enters earth. This is the inbreaking of the new age. The Spirit is loose in the world in and through Jesus, who will baptize his followers, not with water alone, but with the Holy Spirit and fire[v].

Baptism is a disrupter in our lives that sets us on a new course, with Christ and the Holy Spirit working hand in hand.

And so this morning, we return to the waters, not to be baptized again (or for the first time), but to remember this as a touchstone for our faith that launches us into the future, and to pray that the heavens will break open for us and declare the start of something new. We fling ourselves into the wind, and trust the Spirit will sort us out and set us on a path for ministry. We surround ourselves with the refreshing, rushing water, and hope to catch a glimpse of God’s fire burning in its midst. May it be so. Amen.

~sermon by Rev. Elizabeth Lovell Milford, Heritage Presbyterian Church, January 13, 2019

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[i] Linda McKinnish Bridges, “Exegetical Perspective: Luke 3:15-17, 21-22,” Feasting on the Word, Year C Volume 1, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, Editors, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009).

[ii] Linda McKinnish Bridges, “Exegetical Perspective: Luke 3:15-17, 21-22,” Feasting on the Word, Year C Volume 1, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, Editors, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009).

[iii] https://curiosity.com/topics/how-fire-burns-beneath-a-waterfall-at-eternal-flame-falls-curiosity/?utm_source=facebook&utm_medium=social&utm_campaign=20190109waterfallfire&fbclid=IwAR36s57qx3dqyigGO_adv99ixIf6un5yW-SkdYxAGSTf0xbHCnlQHa9mc3Y and http://www.wnytrails.com/?p=243 , both accessed 1/12/19.

[iv] Texts for Preaching, Year C

[v] Ernest Hess, “Homiletical Perspective: Luke 3:15-17, 21-22,” Feasting on the Word, Year C Volume 1, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, Editors, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009).

Sunday’s Sermon – What’s In A Name? – Mark 8:27-30

September 16, 2018 Leave a Comment

Preparing to have a child is full of a ton of decisions, and endless questions from friends, family, doctors, even strangers in the check-out line. As the due date gets closer, one becomes more common – “what are you going to name him?” Of all the decisions you make, naming your child can be one of the most difficult. Do you pick a name that reflects names that run in the family? Are you looking for a name that is traditional, trendy, or totally unique? Will you name your child after a fruit or vegetable? What kind of nicknames might come from this name? Is it going to sound right with your last name, or give your little on an awkward set of initials? It’s easy to overthink this, but also get stuck in a lot of places. And that’s without the commentary other people are bound to give if you share your name early. Even in modern society, naming has a lot of pressure; this is the name that likely will reflect and maybe shape your child’s identity for the rest of their life. It is one of the first things that we share about a baby’s arrival, and it’s kind of a big deal. Like in the opening sequence of the movie The Lion King, when all the animals come to Pride Rock as “The Circle of Life” plays, and Rafiki lifts up the little lion cub, presenting “Simba” to the entire kingdom. It is dramatic and full of meaning, not just for the one being named, but for the whole community.

The opening verses of Mark’s gospel are a similar proclamation, as the evangelist says “The beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God. (Mark 1:1)” In this, he makes a bold assertion, a royal proclamation if you will, that this is not just any ordinary person or story. This is Jesus Christ, christos in the Greek, which means “anointed one” and would have connections with the anointing of kings in ancient Israel. “Christ” is not a last name for Jesus; it is a proclamation of his identity, and shapes everything in the story that follows. The next eight chapters in Mark demonstrate a flyover of Jesus’ ministry along the sea and in the wilderness, full of stories of healings and miracles. Along the way, we hear the buzz among the people of Galilee. Jesus casts out an unclean spirit and they ask “who is this?” (1:27). He tells the paralytic that his sins are forgiven and the religious leaders question his authority, for “who can forgive but God alone?” (2:1-12). Jesus speaks in the storm and the disciples wonder “who is this, that even the wind and the sea obey him?” (4:41).

Halfway through the gospel, these murmurs turn from a quiet buzz to a direct question, a hinge in the narrative that shifts everything in the verses we read just a few moments ago as Jesus is on the way to Caesarea Philippi. This time, it is Jesus who asks the question. First, he inquires about what people are saying about him and his identity, almost as if testing the waters of gossip. The disciples answer with reports that indicate the overall reception of Jesus up to this point by the community, each with a significance that hints at a bigger answer.

In chapter 6, Herod Antipas is alarmed that Jesus is John the Baptist, which is a startling revelation for Herod just had him beheaded, so this would indicate he had risen from the dead. Resurrection would shake the very foundations of whomever was in power. Others said Elijah, which would have brought hope in Jewish hearts aching for God’s promised Messiah, as many expected Elijah’s presence to be a necessary prerequisite to a messianic appearance. Elijah is only one of two in the Hebrew scriptures who did not die, but was taken to be with God directly, and in a mighty fashion with a chariot of fire. But perhaps he was a prophet, which would have given reassurance to the people that God had not abandoned them, even though the people in the 1^st century were under Roman occupation and did not have their own king from the line of David[i]. All of these hinted at the expectations the people of God had for their redeemer and Savior. And yet, none were quite right. So Jesus pointedly asks again, “Who do you say that I am?”

He’s not looking for the textbook answer. As Andre Resner notes:

[Jesus] demands that they answer from their core. They cannot rely on hearsay – gossip theology – from politicians or theologians. They must take a personal stand[ii].

Of course, Peter is ready and quick to answer. He repeats the label given to readers in the very first verse of Mark’s gospel: “You are the christos,” the Messiah. All of the hopes and expectations for centuries of God’s people are met in this word.

Ding! Ding! Ding! We might expect a round of applause, gold star, or some other award. But what follows is the opposite. They’re told not to tell anyone about him. This is known as the “Messianic Secret,” and is a repeated instruction throughout the gospel. It’s not because they necessarily get the title wrong, but because even with the right answer, they don’t fully comprehend what it means. In the verses that follow these, Jesus describes what is to come, and dismantles the idea that the Messiah will overthrow everything in a blaze of glory. God’s power and authority is not going to look like they expect it to look. Instead it is a story that continues to Jerusalem and the cross.

His question isn’t looking to boost his own ego at the midpoint in the gospel, or determine the disciples’ approval rating of his ministry. It isn’t a test. Instead, as Dr. Karoline Lewis offers, this question posed to the disciples is:

It’s the moment when you come face-to-face with your own commitment, your own discipleship, your own identity. It’s the moment when you have to admit to what extent how you follow Jesus actually connects with some sort of confession of who you believe Jesus to be.

. . .

“Who do you say that I am?” is at the same time, “who will you say that you are?” That’s the rub of this question, the heart of its difficulty. If it we only had to provide an answer to Jesus’ question of his identity, that would be one thing. However, answering the question of Jesus’ identity is also having to give voice to our own[iii].

What was true for the disciples then is true for us today. If we claim Jesus to be the Christ, the Messiah, our Lord and Savior, then we are also asserting something bold about who we are choosing to be. And, even like Peter in his enthusiasm, in our eagerness to call ourselves Christian, we might not always slow down enough to think about all that it actually means. Wrapped in this question is a renewed invitation to discipleship. It is Jesus again standing at the shoreline, asking the disciples to follow him. And hearing it today offers us the opportunity to renew our own sense of discipleship as those who claim Jesus as Christ. We might ask ourselves what difference it makes for us to claim Jesus is the one in whom all of our hopes are realized. Does it make a difference in your life to profess this faith? How? Are we living as those who have truly been transformed by the good news of the Messiah, or are we just giving Jesus the head nod and going about our lives. Are our choices reflective of the faith we profess? This is what is asked as Jesus turns to us and says “Who do YOU say that I am?” It is a powerful moment for each of us to consider.

It is also beyond just our own individual relationships with Christ. If you look closer at his question, the word “you” actually is plural. Jesus isn’t asking for personal responses of allegiance from the disciples. He is asking for a collective understanding. Southern vernacular helps us articulate it better. In this passage, Jesus is asking: “Who do y’all” or perhaps better “all y’all” say that I am? It is a convicting statement for “the church” in many ways, and is one we should be answering continually as a community of faith. And I think we are seeking to do that here. In fact, I can name three ways it’s happening in our context right now.

At the 8:30 service, we affirm the Spirit’s call to Lisa Wolfgang to serve our congregation as a deacon. Part of her ordination vows is to affirm her faith, including a profession of Jesus Christ as Lord and Savior, and in response we promise our support and prayers for her leadership along with our other officers. The ordination vows, which all elders, deacons, and ministers of word and sacrament make in the PC(USA), remind us of who we are called to be as those who claim Jesus as the Messiah. They talk about being faithful to the holy Scriptures, attentive to God’s guidance, respecting one another and seeking to live in peace, purity and unity. They call us to serve with energy, intelligence, imagination, and love. What a wonderful list of what it means to live into our faith!

At the 11:00 service, we have the joy of celebrating the sacrament of Baptism, our reminder that we are claimed as Christ’s own forever. Shelby’s parents, Drew and Kasey, will profess their faith in Jesus Christ as Lord and Savior, and immediately follow with a promise to raise her in that faith. Furthermore, we as a congregation make a promise to teach and support her on behalf of the entire Christian church, so that she may grow up to come to know the grace and love of God through Jesus Christ. Baptism reminds us that claiming Jesus as Christ not only proclaims grace and forgiveness, but places us in the context of a community who encourages and nurtures each other throughout our entire journey of faith. This is what it means to be a Christian, too.

Finally, many of you took part in our visioning process which launched last Sunday. There is still time to respond to our initial questions, from a written survey that’s available in the Narthex, to large pieces of paper for your notes near the coffee area, to the link that is available in this month’s newsletter or on our Facebook page. Our Visioning Team will begin its work with these responses, and coming soon will invite you to participate in further face-to-face conversations about who God is calling us to be as a congregation. Throughout this process, together we will be answering the question Jesus asked his disciples in Mark, professing who it is we believe Christ to be, and who we are called to be in response to that affirmation of faith.

And really, that’s what being the church is all about. Making sure that we hear that question from Jesus, put some time and energy into our answer, and then make sure the response we give is not just lip service, but reflected in the lives we lead as his disciples. Christ, or Messiah, has to be a name that makes a difference for us, both as individuals and as a community of faith. Otherwise, we’ve missed the point. So even as we blurt out our initial answer, Jesus calls us to pause for a moment, and think about all it means, for us and for the world. For what is in Jesus’ name? Everything. Amen.

~Rev. Elizabeth Lovell Milford
September 16, 2018

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[i] Summarizing Andre Resner, “Homiletical Perspective: Mark 8:27-30,” Feasting on the Gospels: Mark, Cynthia A. Jarvis and E. Elizabeth Johnson, editors, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2014).
[ii] Ibid.
[iii] Karoline Lewis, “Who Do You Say That I Am?” Dear Working Preacher, September 16, 2018, https://www.workingpreacher.org/craft.aspx?post=5220, accessed 9/13/2018