Notes From Jon

Galatians 3:23-4:7

Pentecost 16 (B) – September 24, 2006

Introduction

Most of the time, I find a sermon and I look for a story to enhance or to illustrate the point of the sermon. But this week, as I prepared for what to say in response to God’s word about a special event like the one today, I realized that HERE was a story with a sermon in it. So I want to tell you the story today, and see where you find yourselves in it.

Their Story

Once upon a time, two children were born in a far-away country. Their mothers and fathers were not too far apart, but they were inseparably linked by the one factor that links so many people in our world – poverty. The people in that place lived in utter poverty, and there was no guarantee that these children would have anything to eat.

The poverty-stricken place they came to was a dangerous place for babies to live – the infant mortality rate was much higher than here. There was no guarantee that these children would see their first birthdays. And yet they were born here anyway.

These children were born into a place and time that was likely to stay as poor as it had begun. There were very few chances for improvement. Education was hard to come by. In all likelihood, these children would grow up to work the same difficult jobs that their parents had, and if they survived to adulthood would probably die prematurely because the living conditions were so poor.

And yet they were born. And their parents, realizing they had too many mouths to feed, took their children to places where they hoped they would be cared for – one a little boy, the other a little girl. And even though their chances had been slim before, suddenly their chance of getting an education or a home dropped even lower.

Until one day, when all this changed. A couple comes from another country. They cannot have children of their own, and are hoping to give someone a home. They come to a place where they do not speak the language, and they know the conditions are poor. And they bring these children to their own home.

These children, who once could have no guarantee of food, suddenly find that they have all the food they need. Where before they would know only hunger, now they may never know a time when they were hungry.

These children, who once had no guarantee of life, suddenly find that they have medical care and the things they need to survive. Where they may have only known temporary shelter from rain and cold before, now they will know clean, warm and dry homes. They will likely live to the ages any of us may expect.

But more importantly than any of these things – more than the food, more than the shelter, more than the medical care, more than the toys and the many things they enjoy – these children have hope at last. Where before, they might have had access to school but could not go because they could not have afforded clothes and supplies, now they can go to school and learn and grow and improve themselves. Where before they might have had limited opportunities for jobs, now there are no limits – they can be doctors, teachers, lawyers, scientists, farmers… whatever they want. They will likely go father in life than their fathers, mothers or siblings could ever have hoped.

And finally, they have a home and a family. Where before they had a makeshift family of nurses and caretakers in an orphanage, now they have a mother, a father, grandparents, aunts and uncles. Where before they had a place they could go because someone was required to care for them, now they have a place they can go where they are loved and welcomed because of who they are.

And they are no longer outcasts. They aren’t simply brought along for a few years and then abandoned again. They aren’t here just for a few years until the government moves them somewhere else. They are children with parents – children with an inheritance, a family and a home. Children whose parents are theirs in every way except for blood. And they will know the love of real parents as long as they are alive.

It’s a beautiful story. And it’s a story that goes on, for these parents have so much love to share that now they’ve brought another home – another child who had a poor chance at a home, a poor chance at food, a poor chance at survival, a poor chance at education, a poor chance at life. And to this beautiful little girl, they have given life – a home, food, clothing. And even more – love, a family, a place to belong.

Our Story

Once upon a time, a two children were born. They may have been separated by space – one was born in Virginia, and another in Alabama. They may have been separated by time – one born in the 1940’s, another in the 1970’s. They may have had different families – one from a loving home with two parents and several siblings, the other with a broken home and no siblings.

And yet, far apart as they were, they shared a common link that is shared by every human being born. We may have lots of food, clothing, shelter and stuff, but we live in spiritual poverty, desperately needing a place to call home. We are completely sinful and helpless to do anything about it. There’s no guarantee that we’ll ever be able to make it out of the sinful cycle of death and destruction that is bound to this place called earth.

These two children had no hope of improving themselves. Even though they may have had families, food, clothing and education, still they were missing something. They may have had the things that they needed here, but they still needed something they could not get on their own – grace when they made mistakes. Mercy when they had asked for the wrong things so many times. Purpose, when they thought their lives were only about making money and having stuff. Strength when they faced situations that were too difficult to bear.

And most of all, they needed a home that would outlast all the earthly homes they could find here. They needed love that was bigger than they could find in an earthly family. They needed a love that would outlast all the loves that sometimes fail us here. They needed life that would take them beyond the existence we see here sometimes.

They needed love.

And then someone came. He came from a distant country, and told us of a place more beautiful than anything we’d seen. He came and lived a life – and died a death – that made it possible for us to see that new life.

Where before, we had only known a harsh and unforgiving world, suddenly we found forgiveness so free and full that it seems too good to be true.

Where before we had only known a world that was “every man for himself,” suddenly we found a place where grace brought us together with the strength of a family.

Where before we had only been poor and miserable – no matter how much money we may have had – suddenly we found a place where mercy was given to us, and we were completely loved for who we are.

Where before, the only purpose and meaning in life we had known was to look out for ourselves and gain all the things for ourselves that we could, suddenly we found a place where we could see meaning from an eternal perspective – where giving is greater than receiving, where forgiving is better than holding a grudge, where loving each other really makes a difference.

Where before, the things we have would only last us as long as we’re alive, suddenly we find an inheritance that outlasts this life – a treasure of love and acceptance that will last to eternity.

We have found a home. And it’s not just a temporary home. We haven’t been taken into this home for just a little while, later to be let go. No, we have a REAL Father, who has adopted us and made us his own sons and daughters. We have all the rights of a full child in the family. And where before we were lonely, suddenly we’re surrounded by more Brothers and Sisters than we can count.

God loves us, and he wants to take us home. Not as slaves, not as servants. Not as just foster children who will one day have to fend for themselves again. But as REAL children, here and now. And he came a long way – from heaven to very earth, born in a manger, living among the poor and outcasts – so that he could make us his children

You see, each of us can be adopted as children of God. Not for a day, not for a short time – but for all of eternity. And that adoption doesn’t come when we die. We don’t have to wait until we’re no longer “minors” to enjoy the inheritance that has been left to us.

Because our inheritance is more than just living forever. It’s more than just our own little paving stone in the streets of gold, better than a mansion in the sky. Our inheritance and our home can be found right HERE and NOW.

Suddenly, we’re loved and accepted for who we are, not for what we can contribute to someone else’s well-being.

Suddenly, we find grace and forgiveness for the things we have done wrong.

Suddenly, we have purpose and meaning – to live in a way so that OTHERS will be adopted too, so that our whole world can be taken into God’s love.

Suddenly, we are in a home, surrounded by our true brothers and sisters, all children of the same Father – siblings in every way except for blood.

Conclusion

Now I want us to return to our first story for a little twist. Imagine these children in a few years. Imagine they have grown, gone to school and to college. And imagine we go looking for them at home and they are not there. We look for them at their jobs, and they are not there. We look for them among their own families, and they are not there.

To find them, we travel all the way back to the far-off country where they were born. And there they are, living among the same people. They show no signs that they were ever adopted, even though legally they are still full children of their adopted parents. They wear rags and no shoes. They work the jobs they should have had to work. They act as if they’ve had no education. They are already sick from lack of proper medical care. They will not improve themselves or anyone else.

In short – they are living as though they had never been adopted.

And what about us? Are we acting as the adopted children of God? Are we living as children who have been given so much love, forgiveness and acceptance that we have to give it away? Or are we hoarding it to ourselves?

Are we acting as those who are loved with a greater love than we can imagine? Or are we still acting as though we must find acceptance – by enslaving ourselves to what others think of us?

Are we acting as those whose every need will be provided for? Or are we worrying as if we will never have enough?

Are we acting as the adopted children of God?

After reading this recent article at EthicsDaily, I only had one reaction.

Wow.

There are several things disturbing about this story to me, besides the fact that I’m pretty sure some of the stories being told are either embellished or downright false.

First, Warren says in his own book that his style of church will not work everywhere. Of all the places in the world you’d expect a hard time implementing a California-based church model, the Deep South would be on the top of the list to me. Living in Birmingham, I saw several churches try it, and many of them are now in shambles. The main problem is that Warren’s model is more lay-driven, while many Deep South SBC churches are still very top-driven (much as they may try to deny it).

A church is a living organism. You can’t go to India and uproot a rubber tree, bring it to the desert climate of Arizona and plant it there. It will die. It does not have the characteristics needed to live in that kind of environment. You cannot take a postmodern seeker-style church model, uproot a traditional church, and replace the roots. It’s silly. And it’s usually done in the name of gaining members.

Second, while I’m sure some of these stories were exaggerated or made up, there must be some element of truth to the way the Bellevue church staff is behaving. And my question to all those raising their hands in protest is: Did you not expect this? Did you look at Gaines’ past actions? Did you see how his Gardendale Church was run before you brought him to Memphis? I visited the church in Gardendale on a couple of occasions while I was in Birmingham, and am not in the least bit surprised – just from my observations of his worship leadership – that some of these stories might be true.

This is sad to me on so many levels. Bellevue is a great church with a deep history of doing God’s kingdom work.

Just in case any is actually reading my blog from time to time…

I’m also posting on the blog of a friend of mine, and that conversation (currently on the topic of God and evil) is taking up most of my blogging time and energy at the moment. Check it out if you have time. It’s waitingtolive.wordpress.com.

Also, I’ve completed work (for the time being, there are still a few bugs to work out) on the Kenbridge Baptist Website. Included in this launch is a blog that will contain my weekly sermons. They can either be read directly from the blog site, or from a page embedded in the church website.

Who knew I had this much time to write?!

Once again, I turn to the familiar cry of Jesus on the cross. “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

Why am I here, God? Why have you brought me to this place? I love the people, I love the work (when I’m able to give myself to it fully). But I feel out of place, like a wildflower planted in the middle of an interstate. Or maybe more like a weed in a garden. I don’t know.

In the last two years, I’ve read and prayed and thought of a different kind of Church, a different kind of Christianity. And my soul resonates with that. My mind rejoices in a faith that seems less like a straightjacket, and more like a comfortable pair of sweats. My spirit rejoices that a God who seemed so distant for long time now seems just a bit closer, just a bit more like a God I’d want to know. My heart quickens to think that this deep thirst may be closer to being quenched… or at least, satiated for a while.

But I feel like I’ve been paraded by the beautiful fountain, only to be led out into the desert. I feel dried up, abandoned, helpless. Where I am now seems like the opposite of that place I want to be. All those things that I have talked about the Old Church being? All those stuffy flannel-board images of God, all those meaningless repetitions of prayers and songs? That’s where I am. And it doesn’t seem my “new kind of Christianity” is making much of a difference.

Why am I here? Surely I am in the place God wants me to be, but why is it that – no matter how much I may see a place and think it’s where I need to be – why is it that when God puts me there, I almost immediately begin to feel it’s not right? I know it MUST be right. The circumstances behind it, the affirmations of the Spirit, everything shows me that God has brought me here.

So why do I feel like “here” is a desert, and not a lush pasture?

The life of a disciple… what does it mean? This morning, as I was preparing to get to work in the office I took up a copy of Fisher Humphreys’ new book, I Have Called You Friends. In that book, he discusses several NT images for following Christ. The first is “Disciple” – a term that seems to have been so overburdened with baggage that it carries little meaning anymore.

Humphreys suggests using the term “Apprentice” instead, one who follows a master around watching him closely, learning from him what to do. An apprentice to a plumber follows an experienced plumber around, all the while watching and listening to what the master does and says, so that one day this apprentice can one day be a master plumber as well.

For some reason, when I looked at that statement, all the baggage fell off the term “disciple” for me. I could suddenly see myself as one of those disciples, following Jesus around, watching his every action and listening to every word. I was standing there by the seaside, when he came to me and called me to follow him. Like the others, I looked around and wondered whether he had really meant ME. But, sensing that there was more to this than just a simple decision, I stood and followed him.

For some reason, I feel this has revitalized me… has the potential to transform me even. But I don’t feel like this can be done alone. I feel as if this has to be a community thing. I’ve long felt that it would be easier to live the life of a disciple in a community of believers who are encouraging each other and lifting each other up in prayer.

But does such a community exist? Can I find such a place? Can I help CREATE such aa place?

James 3:1-12

Pentecost +15 (B) – September 17, 2006

Introduction

When I study for a sermon, I look in lots of places. I start out in the scripture, of course – looking at the passage itself. I look for passages that are related to the one I am studying, I look at the passage in light of the whole book, and I look at the original languages if I need to. Then I start to look at what other folks have said about this passage. And as I have looked through the commentaries on the lectionary for this past few weeks, preachers and commentators have steered clear of James like the plague. They will look at Mark, they’ll look at the OT passages that are coming along, but they won’t look at James. And very, very few preachers wanted to have anything to do with today’s passage about speech and the tongue.

We’ve looked at James the last two weeks, and we’ve seen his main points:

• We have to look closely at the Scriptures,
• and we have to be disciplined to apply everything we see there.
• Otherwise, we’re like people who glance at ourselves in the mirror, see what a mess we are, and walk on as if we haven’t seen anything!

James thinks that simple belief in God is nothing. We have to let that belief influence how we live our lives. He gives us some good examples of how we sometimes neglect letting the Gospel into our lives. First, he speaks of prejudice and how we view other people. In a passage we haven’t studied, James speaks of caring for the poor – not just talking about it, but actually doing it.

And now, James comes to what he obviously considers the “last frontier.” And it’s a place we’d rather not go. James turns his attention next to our speech.

Taking About the Tongue

I’m sure we can all identify with this. After all, who here hasn’t got a funny story of some time that our words got us in trouble? Less than a year ago, I was preaching on All Saints’ Sunday, and talking about how people in the Philippines stay overnight in the cemeteries with their loved ones, and then I said something I’m still embarrassed by to this day – “Most of us white, Western folks wouldn’t get caught dead in a graveyard.” I don’t know why, but I was so afraid that slip up would offend some people!

We mess up in what we say all the time… no one is perfect. And we’re all used to the illustration that probably every pastor has used in a children’s sermon – the tube of toothpaste. No matter how hard you try, you just can’t get that toothpaste back in there! So it is with our words – we can’t take them back, no matter how much we’d give to be able to sometimes.

And some people make a living off words. Turn on Jay Leno or David Letterman, or open a good page-turning novel, and you’ll see people who make a pretty good living with words. Words can be a funny business, or a profitable business, and we’re all keenly aware of just how funny and potent words can be.

But I want you to look back into this passage for just a moment and see if you can find the funny part of what James is saying. You won’t find anything. Now granted, James is a little prone to over-seriousness at times, but this passage is at the heart of James’ letter. He mentions our speech at two different places in the letter, and spends a good portion of time here on the very topic. James isn’t making a humorous point here. Not a single illustration is funny. To James, this is a deadly serious matter.

And this isn’t just James going on about gossip – gossip is only one way we misuse our language. James seems to be talking as if there’s more at stake than just a few hurt feelings! Words are at the heart of our existence and our relationship with one another. All we have to do is take a brief look through the Scripture to see that words are worth more than we give them credit for.

What God does with Words

I sometimes tend to think that my words are kind of expendable. And for preachers who make a living out of talking, we sometimes get to the point where “talk is cheap.” People watch us more closely to see if we’re really living out what we say, so sometimes I’m aware that I can say almost anything and it won’t make a difference unless I live it out.

But in God’s economy, talk is never cheap. When God speaks, things happen. Look at a few of the things we see in the Scripture that God does with words.

• He creates the world. Notice that Genesis doesn’t say, “God waved his hands and there was light.” It says, “God spoke into the darkness, and there was light.” We’ve talked before about how “Spirit” and “breath” are the same words in Hebrew. There’s a reason – God’s Word, God’s breath, God’s Spirit, are powerful things.
• At the Tower of Babel, human beings were getting too ambitious for their own good and trying to put themselves in God’s place. So God separated all of humanity – but not by creating political barriers and separating people into cultures. No, God used language – he gave them different languages, and that was the most powerful way they could have been separated.
• God makes a covenant with the people of Israel. He could have laid down a complex code of laws, a constitution for the people of Israel. But instead, Exodus tells us that God spoke “Ten Words” for his people. Those words had power and authority.
• He governs his people. God speaks to his judges and his prophets in order to make his will known, his pleasure or his displeasure with his people.
• He changes names in order to reflect a change in status and to give a new mission.
  • God renames Abram and Sarah to show them that, at about 100 years old and without children, they are to become parents of a great nation.
  • God renames Jacob – a “trickster” or a “con-man,” into “Israel,” – one who strives with God, and who will be the father of a great nation.
  • Jesus renames Simon into Peter – the rock on which his church will be founded.

In fact, in the Hebrew Scriptures, it seems that “God’s Word” is not only the power of God in action, but also God’s presence among his people. That’s why when John describes Jesus, he doesn’t start by calling him the “Son of Man,” the “Son of God,” or any of the other appropriate titles. John looks back to that very first chapter in Genesis, where God’s Word created the world, and he calls Jesus “the Word.” But more than just God’s power, this is the Word that is God’s presence among us – “The Word became flesh and lived among us.”

And in seminary, that’s what we learned about how God lives among us today. Somehow, when you open that Bible in your lap and read those Words, or when I get up in this pulpit and pronounce these Words – somehow, in some mysterious way, God is present with us in that Word. God is here with us this morning in a very tangible way.

What We Do with Words

If we see how carefully and seriously God uses words, we might begin to see how important words are to us as well. Wars have begun because of someone’s careless words, and wars have ended with the words of a treaty or peace accord. Jobs are won because someone can speak the right words in an interview, and jobs are lost because someone said the wrong words to the boss or wrote the wrong email. Relationships are broken because harsh words were spoken, and if they are ever mended it usually begins with the simple words, “I’m sorry.”

And I, as a minister and pastor, am very aware of the words I say and how they can affect people. I have a couple of good stories that illustrate this. When I was in high school, I had a very good friend who I’d grown up with at church. I spent a good deal of time at his house, playing video games, basketball, and all kinds of other things.

But one afternoon I was at his house, and this friend of mine did something – something that was embarrassing and quite wrong. What he did is not important to this story, so I won’t tell you. Just know that it was a very serious thing. I knew he had no mean motives in what he did, but it was shocking to me, and I left wondering what I should do about it.

What I did was the wrong thing. I started telling people at our school. I just happened to let it slip one day, and there it was. I didn’t have to elaborate or exaggerate the story – I was just telling the truth! But just like toothpaste out of the tube, I could not put those words back in my mouth. When I realized what I’d done, I apologized and tried to make amends. I tried to tell people that what he’d done was not really that bad, that he just didn’t know what he was doing. But it was too late. The damage was done.

This yong man and I were not friends after that. I lost a good friendship. More than that, he and his family stopped coming to our church a few weeks later. Then the next year, he moved to a different school. It may have had little to do with what I’d done. Or it may have had lots to do. But as many times as I felt remorse, as many times as I apologized, I still carry a little twinge of guilt – even 15 years later – that I had done that.

You’d think I’d have learned my lesson, but it’s so easy to let things like that slip. Another time, a youth in our church in Birmingham went on the second trip we took to Mexico. He had just gotten more active and involved in church, and we were excited that he was going along. But he is a competitive person, and while we played cards in the evening, he was the kind of rude competitor that nobody wanted to play. He was good, and he told you. I can’t stand that kind of thing.

So, I started talking. I complained to others there, and once or twice, I’m pretty sure I was in a place he could hear me talking. He got very distant for the second half of the trip, stopped playing cards. Then, just about a month after we got back, he simply stopped coming to church. Last I heard, he’d pretty much lost his faith in God and was not going anywhere to church.

Again, it may not have been my words that did that. But it may HAVE been my words. And I’ll carry that on my conscience for a long time.

Now even though our message this morning is not just about gossip, it’s important to make a note about gossip. How many times have I told myself that “I’m not gossiping, I’m telling the truth.” I think we all need to be reminded, however, that truthfulness is not what determines gossip. The things I said in these situations were absolutely true, but sometimes there are things that are true that don’t need to be said. Abraham Lincoln was famously quoted as saying, “I would rather remain silent and be thought a fool than speak out and remove all doubt.”

What James Says About Words

Why are words such an important part of our lives? Maybe we can take some clues from what James says about our speech. Obviously he considers it a very important part of being godly. And he uses several good illustrations to get his point across.

(2) For we all stumble in many ways. If someone does not stumble in what he says, he is a perfect individual, able to control the entire body as well.

“Stumble” is basically “fail.” We all fail in many ways. The first image James uses, subtly, is that of an athlete – who, as Paul puts it, is “beating his body into submission.” We can train our muscles, can hone our coordination and fine motor skills to accomplish a task (ever played a sport?). We can even bend our bodies into a certain shape, stretch our bones, do all kinds of things to control our bodies (ever seen Cirque de Soleil?). But while all this self-control is admirable, there is one final frontier: The tongue.

Later, in verses 7-8, James carries this illustration on to talk of how we can domesticate nearly every animal on the earth. But no one can fully tame the tongue.

James’ speech in this verse seems almost sarcastic or ironic: Since no one can NOT stumble in their speech, there is no perfect individual.

Isn’t it true that we can be so disciplined in so many ways, but that we can let slip a damaging word as easily as a breath?

(3) And if we put bits into the mouths of horses to get them to obey us, then we guide their entire bodies.

The second image used by James speaks to how we use words with others. A small metal bar in the mouth of a horse can do wonders – it can guide the entire horse one way or another, even bring the horse to a calm that would be otherwise impossible. So can words guide (or even control) other people.

Look at the words we speak together here on Sunday mornings – the words we use have power, whether we pay attention to it or not. We sing hymns that carry heavy theological meaning, we read Scripture that is capable of transforming our lives. We say the Lord’s Prayer – a tradition so old here that it probably evokes some kind of memory every time we say it. The words we use here can be powerful.

Look, too, at the other ways we use words – for other kinds of ends. Words can manipulate a crowd, can persuade someone to do something they would not ordinarily do. Look at the rhetorical power used by our nation’s Founding Fathers, who stirred sleepy colonies into the fire of revolution. Look at the powerful rhetoric used by people like Hitler, Stalin, David Koresh, and look what they accomplished.

James is no fool, and he doesn’t want us to be either. He knows that properly used words can, like a bridle, calm a raging horse, or stir a calm horse into a frenzy.

(4) Look at ships too: Though they are so large and driven by harsh winds, they are steered by a tiny rudder wherever the pilot’s inclination directs.

James’ third illustration is of a ship’s rudder. This speaks more to the effect that words can have on our own lives. Most of us are used to smaller boats on very short trips. But James is not speaking of fishing boats, that often have no rudders. He’s talking about large international ships. A small variation in rudder direction on a voyage like that can make all the difference. If you set sail from New York to the east, a rudder change of just a few degrees of that many miles can mean the difference between landing in England or landing in Africa. Over a short distance, an error can be easily corrected, but in the long distance it can mean hundreds of miles of difference.

The idea James is emphasizing is that our words have an effect on our own course, our lives’ own directions. Words spoken in the right place and the right time can land us a great job, a promotion, or a windfall. Words spoken carelessly at the wrong time can leave us crippled for the rest of our lives. Politicians know this truth better than any of us – how many political careers have been ruined because someone said just the wrong thing?

(5) So too the tongue is a small part of the body, yet it has great pretensions. Think how small a flame sets a huge forest ablaze.

(6) And the tongue is a fire! The tongue represents the world of wrongdoing among the parts of our bodies. It pollutes the entire body and sets fire to the course of human existence and is set on fire by hell.

Again, another illustration – this one using fire. You’ve all probably heard that song, that to my generation has come to symbolize 70’s spirituality – “It only takes a spark to get a fire going.” That can be true in many ways – spiritually and physically. Few forest fires are sparked by someone who’s really trying to do it. Not many people sneak out to a forest and say, “I’d like to burn up hundreds of miles of forest, burn down people’s homes, and pollute the environment.”

No, most forest fires are carelessly started. Someone throws a cigarette out the window onto a pile of leaves. Someone doesn’t properly put out a campfire. Someone’s burning some brush on their land and the wind stirs the fire out of control.

So are our words, says James. We don’t have to be intentionally cruel to do damage with our words. Careless talk is enough. And we may never realize all the damage it has done.

(9) With it we bless the Lord and Father, and with it we curse people made in God’s image.

(10) From the same mouth come blessing and cursing. These things should not be so, my brothers and sisters.

(11) A spring does not pour out fresh water and bitter water from the same opening, does it?

(12) Can a fig tree produce olives, my brothers and sisters, or a vine produce figs? Neither can a salt water spring produce fresh water.

And here, I think, is James’ final point. The illustrations he uses at the end – a spring that puts out both fresh and salt water; a tree that produces both figs and olives – shows just why James is concerned about words. The water from a spring comes from a source deep inside the ground. The fruit of a tree is determined by what kind of seed you planted to begin with. You can’t change a fig tree into an olive plant.

And neither can we simply change our words. We tell ourselves, “Maybe I can just shape up and say what I really mean.” But words are not something we can change like clothes. Jesus himself said, “Don’t you realize that it’s not what goes into the mouth that defiles a man, but what comes out of it?” James and Jesus both realize the powerful truth: Our words are a mirror to our hearts. What we say is a reflection of who we really are inside.

Words are not just part of who we are. Someone has said that “our speech is the pen of our heart.” James is not so concerned about words just because of what they have the potential to do (though he does see that quite clearly). The reason we have to be so careful about what comes out of our mouth, is that what comes out of our mouths often says something about who we are on the inside.

What Can We Do?

So we understand that words are powerful things, that we have to be ultimately careful of how we use them. But how? It’s so easy to be careless, and so hard to be careful! So what can we do? Just always be quiet and not say anything, like Abraham Lincoln? Maybe some of us need to heed that advice.

I think one of the things James would recommend to us is constant awareness. He uses many illustrations to get his point across, almost as if he’s hoping that we’ll get at least one of his illustrations and remember it. Remembering and being aware of the power of our words is the first step to being in better control of them.

It’s important to be disciplined on the “giving end” of words – to be careful of what we say, and to say nothing when it’s appropriate. But it’s also important to be discerning and forgiving on the “receiving end” of words. After all, it’s not always the words that are said that cause the trouble – many times, it’s the way they are taken. We should be discerning and careful in our listening, realizing that slips of the tongue are easy to make and being forgiving in what we hear.

One thing I always emphasize at funerals and visitations is that so many people want to say something helpful – their hearts are full of emotion. But quite often they don’t know how to express it properly. Even though they do not intend to be mean, I’ve heard some very hard things said at funeral visitation. It’s always important to remind ourselves that there’s more to what’s being said than just the words themselves – we have to look at the intentions and feelings of the heart. If we listen carefully, with a forgiving and merciful ear, we are less likely to allow a careless word to ruin our day, and we might even be able to counter a harsh word with love and acceptance… something that usually makes people stop and think.

Finally, I found a story this week that illustrates our point very well. Even though the story is more about anger than harsh words, I think the point applies equally well to what we’re discussing.

La Fontaine, chaplain of a Prussian regiment, preached a plain sermon on the sin of a hasty temper. The next day the major, a very passionate man, told him he had used his official liberty rather too freely. La Fontaine admitted that he had thought of him, but had no intention of being personal. “Well, it is of no use,” said the major. “I have a hasty temper, I cannot help it, and I cannot control it. It is impossible.” The next Sunday La Fontaine preached upon self-deception, and the excuses which men are apt to make, “Why,” said he, “a man will declare that it is impossible for him to control his temper, when he very well knows that, were the same provocation to happen in the presence of his sovereign, he not only could, but would, control himself. And yet he dares to say that the continual presence of the King of Kings imposes upon him neither restraint nor fear!” The next day the major again accosted him. “You were right yesterday, chaplain,” he said humbly. “Hereafter, when you see me in danger of falling, remind me of the King.” Let us always remember we are in the presence of Christ. Surely we would not wish to let our passions loose in the presence of the King.

When we say things, are we aware of what we are saying? Are we paying attention to our words? Other people are. And God is. And if we remember that we are always in the presence of Jesus, the Spirit is in us, that God our loving Father is a part of every conversation – how can we not help but be careful with our words and actions?

May God give us all the discipline and wisdom to guard our words, and forgiving spirits that show grace when someone else’s words are harmful to us.

Sometimes I lose God.

When I was a child, I experienced the same scary experience that most of us have experienced: losing a parent. Though I know it happened many times, I remember one store in particular. It was a huge clothing outlet store in central Alabama. I was probably 8 years old, and my parents had come here to waste hours poring over things that were only a tiny bit cheaper than they could be gotten elsewhere. There were no toy stores in this outlet mall. Sadly the only store that caught my attention was a Black & Decker outlet… and drastically reduced metric crescent wrenches are only interesting to an eight-year-old for so long.

On one of these trips, I whiled away the time by letting my imagination roam free. It only seemed I was weaving through the racks where my mother was browsing – actually, I was weaving through the rain forest, looking for a tiger. As I let my reality catch up with my imagination, I stopped and looked around… and experienced that sudden sense of panic we all remember from some time in our lives. I had lost her. I looked in every direction for my mother, still not panicked enough to call out her name. I quickly backtracked, went to the places I knew she’d been. She wasn’t there. I kept looking, and now my fear had caught up with me – I began to cry.

It seemed like an eternity, but it was probably only a minute or two. When I found her, I expected her to be anxiously searching for me as well. But she turned from examining a blouse or something, looked down at me, and asked why I was crying. Didn’t she know? Hadn’t we been lost? Wasn’t she as panic-stricken as me? Wasn’t she bursting with joy to know we’d found each other at last?

No. In fact, she’d known where I was the whole time. She’d watched me from over the top of the clothing racks, wondering why I was weaving so erratically through the store. Turns out that if I’d simply stopped and taken time to look, I would have seen her watching me, waiting for me to come back.

Sometimes I lose God. Like when I lose my sunglasses, only to find they’ve been on my head the whole time. Like when I got lost in the city, trying to get back to my skyscraper hotel – even though I never lost sight of it, I couldn’t quite figure out how to get back there.

Sometimes I lose God. But I’m never lost. And I’m always glad to be found.

Saints and Sinners

A Sermon for Kenbridge Baptist Church

James 2:1-17, Matthew 15:21-28

Pentecost 14B: September 10, 2006

Introduction – Catching Up

Last week, we began a series on the book of James. I gave you a little bit of background on the book: That James was Jesus’ brother, that he was a leader in the Jerusalem church, that he was writing this book to Jews that were scattered across the ancient world because of persecution. I gave you a challenge – one I am going to continue. I challenge you to look more closely at the book of James, to read through the letter once each week. Look in that book and don’t just read it for information’s sake – FIND YOURSELF in that book, look intently at yourself and let God change you.

We talked briefly about the fact that many scholars place James and Paul on two different theological planes, but that I think James and Paul were both doctors treating two different diseases in thee Body of Christ. Paul, on the one hand, was combating the idea that Christians must live as slaves to every little law and command in order to be saved. James was fighting a different disease – one that is more relevant to our time and place, I think: The idea that we are saved by “believing” some certain doctrine, and that we don’t have to worry about what we do any more.

In the first chapter of James, he makes his thesis statement, what I think is the crucial point of his letter: That we must not just merely hear and believe the message of the Gospel, but that we must LIVE IT OUT. He gives us some examples, ones that he will elaborate on later – controlling our speech, and caring for the poor. James shows us that religion, faith and Gospel are nothing unless we let them seep into every area of our lives.

Letting the Gospel Seep In

I used “seep” intentionally – like water seeping into a boat. You’re all familiar with the story of the Titanic – the “unsinkable” boat that carried almost 2,000 people to the bottom of the North Atlantic in 1912. Well, the design that made boats like the Titanic “unsinkable” was a compartmentalized hull – a design that’s still in use in ships today. The idea is that the inside of a boat is blocked off into hundreds of compartments with watertight doors. If water starts coming in one area of the ship, you simply close all the doors around that area and keep the water in one place – the boat doesn’t sink, and you can get back to port to repair the damage.

I use this image with a reason – so often, we put “compartments” in our lives, areas that we won’t let the Gospel into. We’ll let it affect things in one certain area, but not in others. But Jesus doesn’t ask us to let the Gospel in a “little bit” – he says we have to let the WHOLE BOAT sink. We have to allow the Message to fill up our lives so that our old, human selves sink to the bottom and we are raised to new life in Christ.

And so much of James’ letter is working this idea out – in what areas do we show that we haven’t let the Gospel all the way in? In today’s passage, he addresses prejudice and the way we look at other people. He gives us a hypothetical situation: He describes a church meeting at which both a poor and rich person enter. If any preferential treatment is given to the rich man over the poor man, James says, then we are revealed to be showing favoritism – that is, that we look at people as being less equal than God does.

This hypothetical situation could be changed to any number of situations that fit us better. What if a successful, well-dressed white man walks in, and a Hispanic man in ratty, dirty clothes walks in? What if a straight-A, well-kempt high school student walked in and a dropout, drug-addict student walks in? We’ve talked about this before – each of us has an “other,” and I don’t think it would take long for us to figure out a situation in which we might show preference to one person over another.

Most of the commentators on this passage have pointed out that James is talking about taking care of the poor. I don’t think that’s true. I don’t think James is making a point about a certain kind of person – he talks later about taking care of the poor. Instead, I think he is making a point about the Gospel – “if we REALLY believe the Gospel,” he begins in verse 1, “if you’re REALLY let it sink in, how can you show favoritism? Can you not see with God’s eyes that these ‘sinners’ are just as much ‘saints’ as you are?”

Change in Perspective

James is a very instructive book, but what most people miss when they look at James is that instruction is not all that James is about. Jesus, Paul, John, James, Peter – all of them understood that just giving simple instructions is not the way to affect change. I knew that at one time, I had a bad habit of leaving the water running when you brush your teeth, but it wasn’t enough for someone to say, “stop leaving the water running.” That didn’t do it.

What I needed was a change in perspective. I couldn’t see clearly because I’d never looked clearly. Any of you who have been to the optometrist know that it’s like for things to come into perspective. You sit in the little chair with that strange contraption in front of you. The doctor asks you to look through it, and begins to click lenses in front of your eyes. One by one, each lens comes and goes, then comes again. And at last, with a few clicks, everything comes into focus.

The idea about a perspective coming into focus is that it will change the way we do things. When I walked out of that doctor’s office with my new glasses – my new perspective – I might realize that the reason I’ve been tripping on my front sidewalk is that there’s a rock there. Now that I can see it clearly, I do something about it – I move the rock, or I step around the rock. It would be silly to keep tripping over it now that I see clearly.

It’s the same way with our lives. When I finally got to go to places where water was scarce, I began to take running the water more carefully. I was in the Philippines one summer, and the people in that poor area of Manila don’t have a central plumbing system. You pay to have a truck come fill up the big tank on the roof of your house. When you run out of water, you may have to wait for a few days. When I took a shower, I stood in the tub with a bucket and a ladle and poured water over myself. It made me much more careful when I came home about wasting water. No one had to tell me, “Hey, stop wasting water.” I had seen differently – I had to act.

So what James does here to help us understand how we treat people is to change our perspective. He points out that we are all alike in God’s eyes. And to show it, he points out a common denominator. But it’s not the common denominator I would have chosen to look at. I would have chosen to say, “Look how much God loves every one of us.” Or maybe, “Look how we are all human beings on the same struggle of life.”

No, the common denominator James points out is JUDGMENT.

The Common Denominator: Judgment

If we show partiality, James explains, then we are guilty of sin. And if any of us have committed any sin at all – no matter how great or small – each of us is equal in the fact that we are in need of God’s mercy. None of us, rich or poor, can stand before God’s judgment and lift our eyes to meet God’s – all of us have “sinned and fallen short.” The same God who said, “do not murder,” James says, is the same God who said, “do not steal, do not lie, do not covet.” If we have broken any of these commands, we are as guilty – as much a dirty sinner in God’s eyes – as the world’s worst murderer.

If these statements by James tend to make us a little uncomfortable, there’s a reason. It would be one thing if James was talking to a group of unsaved people able judgment. But here, James is speaking directly to Believers about how God will judge them – “So speak and so act as those who are to be judged by the law of liberty,” he says, “for judgment will be without mercy to anyone who has shown no mercy.” This are Christians we’re talking to, right?

Right. And one of the fundamental ideas that seems to run under all of James’ teaching is this – that as Christians, we are not excluded from the judgment of God. Can this be true? Can we really believe this? I thought judgment was just what God reserved for those people who didn’t accept him? Surely we’ll come before the Great Judge and he’ll call for the court clerk to look for our names in the Book of Life. Finding us there, he’ll say, “Well done, good and faithful servant!” and we’ll walk free.

But the teachings of Jesus and the teaching of James, and really the teaching of all the Scriptures never seem to say this. Christians, just like everyone else, are called upon to live lives of purity and rightness, because Christians – just like everyone else – will be judged for the things we have done or failed to do. Just like non-Christians, we’ll stand before God’s judgment seat and our whole life will be reviewed, our decisions and our intentions discovered. Just like non-Christians, our motives and actions will be clearly seen for what they are, and they will be judged.

The difference – and James and Paul both allude to this – is that our judgment may even be harsher because WE KNEW what we were supposed to do. We KNEW the commands that some others did not. We’ve been shown mercy and grace and forgiveness, so how much worse will it be for us when we fail to show that same mercy, grace and forgiveness to others?

The Great Sofa of Judgment

I’ve been reading books about this judgment lately, and what it will be like. We think that we’re going to get off scot-free, but as I just said, I think it will actually be WORSE for us. Now we all had different kinds of punishment growing up – from those whose parents didn’t believe in physical punishment at all, to the ones whose daddies made us go out and pick a limb off the tree to be whipped with!

But all of us know – when we did something wrong, there were some things we could stand, and some not. If any of you knew me in school, you’d be amazed to hear this – I got a paddling when I was in 3^rd grade. I’m still not entirely sure what all transpired, but I DO know that I was provoked by another little boy and I retaliated. Today, I still don’t think I deserved getting a paddling, but it was my word against his and the teacher wasn’t right there when it happened, so she just sent us both.

I remember two things very strongly from that day. I vaguely remember the wait outside the principal’s office. I really don’t remember anything at all that the principal said to us. I don’t even remember the paddling itself. But I DO remember what we had to do after we were paddled – we were made to stand in the hallway, obviously crying and upset, as other classes made their way down the hallway to the playground. I can still remember standing there and looking through my tears at that line of children going past. And I DO remember having to go home to my parents and explain everything to them again, and the very disappointed and hurt looks they had on their faces.

And I remember the way we always handled times when I’d done something I wasn’t supposed to do. We all sat down in the living room, my parents on one sofa, and me on the other across from them. Nothing in between, nowhere to hide. And I had to tell them what I’d done, and explain to them why it was wrong. To this day, I can’t remember a single spanking I got. But I remember those long, horrible silences staring at my feet while I slowly came to the realization that there was no talking my way out of this one.

That wasn’t punishment – that was a reckoning. And I can’t speak for you, but give me a switch or a paddle any day. I’ll take a good dose of corporal punishment in a heartbeat. But NOT the reckoning! Don’t sit me down and tell me that you’re disappointed in me. Don’t sit there with that hurt and disappointed look on your face. That is worse to me than anything else, because it makes me KNOW that my actions were wrong. It made me see that my mistake had consequences outside of just my own little world – my decision to fight back was a disappointment to my parents, who had taught me better than that. I KNEW better than to do what I did.

And this is how I am coming to imagine the judgment. It’s not the legal courtroom with the high and mighty judge glancing at me over the court briefs. It’s sitting on the sofa, across from Mom and Dad, who’re looking me in the eye and asking me, “Now what did you REALLY do?” It’s my eyes filling with tears as I realize that I DID know better than to do that. And it’s that hurt look in his eyes when they shows me – don’t even have to tell me – that they’re disappointed in me.

I know it’s less intimidating to call it “The Great Sofa of Judgment,” but for some reason that idea strikes more fear in me than any image of a courtroom. And this is what each and every one of us must face one day.

This is the perspective that we must continually train our eyes toward. If we look on the earthly perspective, we see that we are certainly better off than others, that we sin less openly than others. We may see some in rich clothing, with fine jewelry and garments (either literally or figuratively).

But when we put on God’s lenses for a moment, we see beyond the earthly perspective and into the eternal. Almost like x-ray glasses, we see that all of us are really the poor, miserable creatures who wander in need of grace and mercy. In the eternal perspective – the one that REALLY matters – all of us are on an equal playing field. There is no high ground or low ground. Each of us stands before a holy and righteous God who judges us – not just on his own standards, but on the standards that you and I know about ourselves. We know what we ought to do and we don’t do it. We know what we should not do, and yet we do it anyway. There is no high ground and low ground at the foot of God’s throne – we are all on level ground.

The Canaanite Woman’s Faith

The other lectionary passage this morning from Matthew’s Gospel is about how Jesus dealt with partiality and prejudice. Here, he teaches his disciples a powerful lesson about how they look at people. Jesus has left the comfortable areas of Galilee in favor of the northern Gentile territories. He is, in fact, in modern-day Lebanon when he encounters a woman who begs that Jesus would cast the demon out of her daughter.

She is the lowest of the low in the eyes of the Jew – she is a woman. She is a Gentile. And she comes begging for Jesus to do something. While the storyteller focuses on Jesus’ response, I think it’s more instructive for us to look at what the disciples did. “Make her go away, Jesus. She’s bothering us.”

That’s when Jesus does the unimaginable – both to us and to them. He knows his disciples are prejudiced against her, but instead of scolding them outright, he gives them a backdoor rebuke.

He begins by speaking to the woman in the way the disciples would have – tells her he hasn’t come for her. Calls her a “Gentile dog.” They were all used to this kind of rhetoric. This is how the Jews spoke of Gentiles all the time. You can almost see the disciples nudging each other and giggling at how he treats her.

Then she responds with faith and tenacity, and Jesus gives her the biggest compliment he could have given her – and the biggest insult he could have given his closest followers. “Woman, great is your faith.”

He’d never said that to his closest followers the disciples. The constantly heard, “Where is your faith?” and “Oh you of little faith!” But here, he tells the lowest of the low that she has “great faith.” It must have irked the disciples to no end! But it made the point – their prejudice had no place in the Kingdom of God. And to further make his point, he heals her daughter as well.

Concluding – Letting it Seep In

So James and Jesus have made our point this morning: if we understand this – if we have TRULY looked into God’s message and seen the truth – we must let it impact our actions. We must treat everyone as equal. That does not mean we rush to the poor man at the expense of the rich man. It doesn’t mean we run to the Hispanic man and leave the white guy wondering where we are.

It means we treat the both the poor and rich man, both the white and black and Asian and Hispanic – as all the same. All loved by God. All miserable creatures in need of mercy and forgiveness. All sons and daughters of God who will one day be called to reckon for the things we’ve done. We are called to treat them as if they were people just like us… as if they WERE us. “Love your neighbor as yourself.”

May God grant us the vision, the change in perspective, to see ourselves and others as we truly are. May God, through the Spirit, allow the Gospel to sink into every area of our lives and sink these old human habits – so that the pure, holy life of Jesus may shine through.

How do we deal with terrorism? For centuries, philosophers, preachers and politicians alike have all realized that our greatest enemies are not those who inflict pain, but those who inflict fear. Fear itself is our greatest enemy. Terrorism is the worst possible kind of act we can perpetrate against other human beings – not because the kinds of things terrorists do, for whatever reason, but because of what their acts inspire: Terror.

For instance, no matter how loudly and often we say we will not let the terrorists win, have we not let them win already? For instance, let your mind take you back to a plane flight you took before 9/11. In your mind, wander through the airport and notice what you see… or what you DON’T see. Fear, nervous people looking over their shoulders at someone with dark skin or wearing robes. So many security checks and measures that we actually utter a sigh of relief when we get strapped in and listen to the safety demonstration given by the flight attendants (who’d have every thought we’d be relieved to hear THAT?).

Where will it end? At each point in your imaginary wandering through the pre-9/11 airport, you can probably remember when and why they had to put those measures in place. Remember when they put in those huge TSA bag scanners? Remember when they started taking scissors, knives and nail clippers away? Remember when you had to start taking off your shoes? Remember when you had to dump all your makeup and water bottles in a big bin at the front of the security line?

I joke with people these days and say, “Before long, some terrorist will find a way to weave a bomb into his clothes, and we’ll all have to get on the plane naked.” But funny as that may seem, most of us only give a nervous little chuckle as we think, “You know, I wonder if that really COULD happen…”

We can’t defeat terrorism by trying to make sure we can filter out every kind of bomb they can make. There will always be a newer way, a way that will make us all shudder when we find out how close we came.

No, we can only defeat terror by not being afraid. All through the Bible, we see angels and other messengers of God saying, “be not afraid,” and we have to wonder whether there’s a message there for us, too. A fellow minister and mentor once taught me something I still have to remind myself to this day: “The opposite of faith is not doubt. The opposite of faith is fear.” Do we have enough faith to “be not afraid?”

Seems so easy to relegate the fight against terrorism to the folks behind the scanner at the airport, or the soldiers overseas. But the real fight, the one that matters, takes place in your soul and in mine.