Listen to Him

A Sermon for the Last Sunday after the Epiphany (RCL - B)

Far from the crowds, leaving the noisy and busy towns far behind, the small band hiked up and over the rocks to the top of the mountain. Mount Tabor, windswept with a view over the long valley of Jezreel. The Master led the way, with his three close and confused friends following his footsteps. Glory shone, reality made plain, and the disciples left that mountain-top more bewildered than ever. And yet, the Voice had spoken loud and clear:

Listen to Him.

I have long been impressed by the wisdom of the 12-Step movements. By God’s grace, I have never yet needed to participate in one of these groups, but I admire their simplicity and their single-minded focus upon their central mission. In addition to the 12 Steps which guide the person in recovery, each group is guided by 12 Traditions. (You can see these downstairs, I believe, at St. Luke’s.)

The 11th and 12th of these AA Traditions are as follows:
[Our public relations policy is based on attraction rather than promotion;] we need always to maintain personal anonymity at the level of press, radio and films.Anonymity is the spiritual foundation of all our traditions, ever reminding us to place principles before personalities.

Did you hear those words written by Saint Paul and read here this morning? “For we do not proclaim ourselves; we proclaim Jesus Christ as Lord and ourselves as your slaves for Jesus’ sake.”

Within this new community that it is called the Church, the confession of sin is the great equalizer. It doesn’t matter who you are: your gender, your personal wealth, your job, your ethnicity. When we gather in Church, ALL of us confess to the Lord that we have sinned. ALL of us bow our heads to ask for forgiveness. This is one of the things that I love most about the church. There are no honorable positions that remove one from the reality of human life. Even this position of “Priest”, which as you know means Elder, is primarily one of function. Someone has to be prepared for each Eucharist. Someone has to study the Scriptures and speak the words of Institution and Absolution.

But in this life, it is so easy for us to lose this perspective. Look again at this story of the Transfiguration. Three great apostles are there: Peter, James and John. If we were to meet them in person, we would be tempted to fall down at their feet and worship. But look! They are as fleas compared to the glory of our Lord! When seen next to him, they are nothing, like a small cloud which the wind easily pushes away.

Make no mistake: I am not denigrating the saints nor the apostles. By their diligence, they have earned the crown of life and they stand before the face of God in worship today. I believe that their example is absolutely critical for us who follow Christ today.

What we learn from our Lord Jesus by his teachings and his example are made clear to us in the life of the saints. This is what we rightly call the Sacred Tradition of the Church. Their stories complete in life what the Bible teaches in word. The two are inseparable.

The Scriptures lay the foundation for a healthy, complete human life. But the building itself is the life of the saints, and in them we can see the practical outline, the structure of life the way God intended it to be. Without their stories, without their concrete examples, we cannot clearly understand what the Gospel means to us for our lives.

HOWEVER! Given all of that, we must know that the lives of the saints are NOTHING compared to the majesty, the magnificence that is Jesus our living Lord.

Why should we stand in awe of any man or any woman? Why? Because they have a bunch of this make-believe thing that we call money? Because others have given them authority and power to make decisions on their behalf? We, who talk and walk with the Risen Lord of life, we know better, and we know that any human is like a fly compared to the glory of God who surrounds us at all times. This is the secret for the boldness and courage of the martyrs over the centuries, who have stood before kings and emperors and generals without fear because of the name of Christ.

“We do not proclaim ourselves.” For why should we? Peter and James and John represent us on Mount Tabor. They didn’t know what was going on. And at the exact moment of human confusion and misunderstanding, the voice of God spoke loud and clear: “This is my Son, the Beloved; listen to him.”

Let’s be honest: how often do we actually LISTEN TO HIM? If we truthfully, honestly believe that he is the most intelligent person who ever lived – that is, he is the one who most understands how life works, how the universe works – if we truly believe this, then why would we turn to Oprah for advice? Why would we listen to Suze Orman about how to plan our lives?

What does Dr. Phil know that Jesus does not know?

“This is my Son, the Beloved. Listen to Him.”

What does it mean to listen? To listen is: to pay attention to sound 2: to hear something with thoughtful attention : to give consideration Listening requires attention and focus, but it also requires trust.

Dallas Willard is a writer whose insights have had a profound impact upon me and my relationship to Christ. Listen carefully, please, to these words from his book The Divine Conspiracy about the intelligence of our Lord. They convict me every time that I hear them.

“Our commitment to Jesus, “ Dallas Willard wrote, “can stand on no other foundation that a recognition that he is the one who knows the truth about our lives and our universe. It is not possible to trust Jesus, or anyone else, in matters where we do not believe him to be competent…Can we seriously imagine that Jesus could be Lord if he were not smart?...[The declaration of faith,] “Jesus is Lord” can mean little in practice for anyone who has to hesitate before saying, “Jesus is smart.” He is not [just] nice, he is brilliant. He is the smartest man who ever lived.” (The Divine Conspiracy, pp.94-95.)

We have to learn to trust him, to really and honestly trust him with our lives. We cannot do that if we see him as out of touch, some mystical figure from the distant past, someone who does not truly understand what our life is like.

He does, and we can trust him. And if we learn to listen, we can learn how to live, how to really live. None of us are too old or too young to learn that. So may it be among us who gather around this table to taste the goodness of the Lord. Amen.

Fear and Love

Sermon for the 4th Sunday after the Epiphany (Year B -RCL): Fear and Love

-My sisters and brothers, we are taught in the scriptures that the fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom, and that those who act in accordance with this fear have a good understanding. Holy and awesome is the name of the Lord. The Letter to the Hebrews reminds us that our God is a consuming fire. As the Almighty Creator of all things seen and unseen, it is right to serve our God with fear.

-But I ask you this: how do we reconcile this with our love for the Lord? You know the first commandment: “Love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, with all your mind, and with all your strength.”

-How do we then both love and fear God at the same time? Are these competing commitments that cancel each other out? Let me assure you that this is not the case.
-In fact, the truth is, my friends, that love and fear must always grow together in the life of a Christian.
-There is no true love that is not grounded in fear, and there is no godly fear which is not fulfilled in love.

-The summer after I finished seminary, we went to live with Erin’s grandfather in the mountains of North Carolina. Her grandparents were pioneering Southern Baptist missionaries in Nigeria, Africa, and they had come back to North Carolina to retire. Erin adored her grandparents, and for good reason. They were amazing people – the kind of folks that are rarely seen in this world today. Their love for others was tremendous, and their generosity was known by all around them. But they were good Baptists, and drinking was one thing that they knew to be wrong. (By the way, you do know why…)
-Well, while we were living there that summer, I found a job as a finish carpenter in a new housing development – hanging doors and installing trim. And after a hot day of working with my hands, you know that all I wanted was to sit and enjoy a cold beer. I am a straight-up, blue collar Jersey boy, and I was raised to drink some beer. But I couldn’t do it.
- I pleaded with Erin. I said, “Maybe I could hide a six-pack in the back of the fridge that was in the garage?!” But it wasn’t going to be. Ice tea would have to do. Neither Erin nor I agreed with him. We did not believe that alcohol was absolutely bad. But out of her deep love and respect for her grandfather, Erin would not do anything that would sow seeds of confusion and misunderstanding in her grandfather’s mind.

-This is the same principle that Paul is teaching in his letter to the Corinthians. The context here is very different – eating meals in temples dedicated to greek gods.
-But the principle is the same. The church is to be the community which embodies the love of God. And if the members truly love one another, then they will be careful not to harm each other. Even if one member does not believe that the meat sacrificed to idols is polluted, out of love and respect for the others, that one is to abstain in order not to sow seeds of confusion and doubt.

-Here we see a practical example of how godly love and fear are so closely intertwined.

-True love and fear are always intertwined. You cannot truly love another if you do not also fear the other. This is true in any relationship in our lives.

-To love someone means to cherish them, to honor them. If I truly love my wife, Erin, then I hold her in a sacred kind of awe, careful never to do anything that might cause her harm.
-If I simply say that I love her, but then if in my actions I consistently hurt her – emotionally or physically – then I am a liar and the truth is not in me.
-True love for her causes me to treat her as if she were the most precious, fragile treasure in my world. This is the kind of fear which is intertwined with love.
-It is not that I am afraid of her – though sometimes I am, because she’s a hot headed Irish girl! But that’s not what I mean here! I mean that I fear the great harm that I, in my blindness and my foolishness, could easily cause her if I am careless.

-For those of you with children, this is like the feelings that are brought about by the birth of your first child. I don’t know about you, but for us, the birth of our first-born son gave us an entirely new understanding of what love really is.
-We never knew that we could love someone so dearly, and at the same time be so terribly afraid all of the time.
-For me, before we had children, my emotions could range about this far (hands held up and close together). But after our children came, my emotions are stretched out about this far (hands far out)!
-Now, after the birth of our children, the depth of my love is so much greater now, but so also is my capacity for fear! The more we love another, the more we fear the harm that could befall them. True love and godly fear always grow together in the heart of a Christian.

-In his book, The Weight of Glory, C.S. Lewis has an amazing passage in which he describes the kind of awe and respect that we rightly should have toward others if we see clearly.

"It is a serious thing," wrote Lewis, "to live in a society of possible gods and
goddesses, to remember that the dullest and most uninteresting person you talk
to may one day be a creature which, if you saw it now, you would be strongly
tempted to worship, or else a horror and a corruption such as you now meet, if
at all, only in a nightmare. All day long we are, in some degree, helping each
other to one or other of these destinations. It is in the light of these
overwhelming possibilities, it is with the awe and the circumspection proper to
them, that we should conduct all our dealings with one another, all friendships,
all loves, all play, all politics. There are no 'ordinary' people. You have
never talked to a mere mortal. Nations, cultures, arts, civilisations -- these
are mortal, and their life is to ours as the life of a gnat. But it is immortals
whom we joke with, work with, marry, snub and exploit -- immortal horrors or
[else] everlasting splendours.”

-When we see clearly with the light of Christ, we stand in awe of the people around us. There are no ordinary people, and no ordinary days.

-All of this is, of course, even more true when it comes to our relationship with God!
-God is to loved and adored. We love God because God first loved us. Forgiveness, healing power, mercy, grace are freely given to us through Jesus Christ.
-But God is also to be feared. Not the groveling kind of fear where we are afraid to be struck by lightning if we happen to spill the blessed wine of the sacrament. God is not capricious in this way, smacking us when we mess up.
-No, it is the loving fear of reverence and awe that develops in our heart when we truly encounter the living God.
-In America, we tend to act pretty chummy toward Jesus, like he’s our best friend, our buddy who hangs out with us at the ball game.
-And in a way, this kind of familiarity is good, I suppose.
-But we tend to forget that this is the King of Kings and the Lord of Lords. This is the one who speaks with authority, the One who went around tearing evil spirits out of people.
-Those around him were amazed and I can promise you that typically he made them feel very, very uncomfortable.
-We would do well to recover a bit of reverent fear and awe when we speak or think about God. During the Great Thanksgiving, when we sing the Sanctus, it is ancient custom to bow in recognition that we are joining in with something that is way over our heads. The heavenly beings, and all the saints, in some mysterious and profound way are living now in the presence of our Creator and singing this song of praise endlessly. It is our privilege to be allowed to join in for a brief moment.

-By the grace of God, may we be strengthened to grow in true love and godly fear, and may these be expressed in all of our relationships to those around us, and most especially in our relationship with the almighty and everlasting Lord. Amen.

HERE I AM- Sermon for the 2nd Sunday after the Epiphany

Can you think of a time when you heard the voice of God clearly calling out to you? Like Samuel, perhaps you were asleep when the Voice called. Perhaps, like Samuel, you misunderstood the call. You thought that the Voice came from someone else, someone close by and near to you.

What about on the flip side of the coin? Can you think of a time when you felt that God was silent in your life? This, of course, is the context in which we hear of the calling of Samuel as a young boy. “The word of the Lord was rare in those days; visions were not widespread” (1 Sam. 3:1). The people were not hearing God speak to them in those days. Was God truly silent? Or had they forgotten how to listen?
Is there a time in your life when God seemed to disappear from your life? Do you think it was due to God’s failure to act or to speak? Or was it due to your lack of perception?

When Nathanael met Jesus, our Lord explained that he knew Nathanael – he knew what kind of person he was, and in fact he knew where Nathanael had been even before they met! Nathanael was shocked! “Where did you get to know me?” What a great question! Where did you get to know me, O God? From our side of history, we can laugh at Nathanael’s question. “Of course this man knows you! This is God incarnate, you fool!” Nathanael could not have known this. We know it to be true, but do we believe it. Do we truly and deeply believe that God knows us? Listen to these words from Curtis Almquist that boldly declare this truth:

“God loves you. Who you are, what you are, how you've gotten to be where you are: God know and loves all that. God has this passionate love affair going on with you. God has created you as you are, cherishes you, and longs for your companionship. God has plans for a relationship with you that lasts forever and that grows in intimacy over time. It's like an eternal infatuation. When you're sleeping, God is dreaming up ways to be with you. When you're working or walking or weeping, God is catching up with you in the wind across your face, in the singing of a bird, in the free fall of laughter, in the soothing touch of a friend. You are the apple of God's eye. “ —Unwrapping the Gifts: The Twelve Days of Christmas, by Curtis G. Almquist.

God knows us – even better than we know ourselves! “You knit me together in my mother’s womb.” And God speaks to us, calls us by name. But we desperately need to learn the art of listening. Bruce Main, the director of Urban Promise in Camden, a ministry to children in the inner city, tells of a time when he came home from work and greeted his wife, Pam, in their kitchen. Bruce was tired from a long day of work and not really paying attention as Pam launched into a story about her day. Pam was explaining that she took flowers over to their friend Kay who recently learned that her husband had an aggressive brain tumor and would not live long. Unfortunately, Kay was not at home. Pam met Kay’s son-in-law and Pam learned that Kay was spending most of her time at the hospital every day with her ailing husband. So Pam left the flowers and began to drive home, but she had a nagging feeling that she was supposed to do something. She felt a deep compulsion that she was supposed to deliver this message to Kay, “God hears you.”

That’s it? Bruce thought, as he listened to her story, now a bit perplexed. That’s the divine message for Kay, “God hears you”? Isn’t that a simple platitude, a really basic idea, not very profound? And was Pam supposed to spend the rest of her day driving into Philadelphia, struggling to find a parking space, hoping to find Kay in the hospital, all in the hopes of giving her this simple message, “God hears you”?
Well, Pam did it. She made it into the hospital, stopping on the way to pick up some sandwiches and juice for Kay. Kay, of course, was a bit surprised to see her, but pleased also. And after a few minutes of small talk, Kay asked Pam why she had come all the way into the city to see her.
“I have a message for you, Kay,” she explained. “What I’m about to tell you may sound a little strange – maybe absurd! … God hears you!” “That’s it?” Kay asked. Pam nodded, and then it began. Kay broke down in tears and cried. Through her tears, she explained that her first husband had died of cancer years earlier. And she had prayed and asked God to please spare her from that kind of pain again. And when she married Jack, her second husband, she had again prayed specifically to ask that she die first before Jack if he were to become ill. But now here she was, with Jack close to death, Kay had given up on God. Kay had given up on prayer. But here Pam came to her –there, at that moment - with a message of hope!

Pam listened to the Voice of the Holy Spirit. God called to her, and she listened. God spoke, and she obeyed. And something important and meaningful was done there in the name of Jesus. (See Bruce Main, Spotting The Sacred: Noticing God in the Most Unlikely Places, 2006, by Baker Books.)

Did you hear that prayer –the Collect – which was appointed for our gathering this morning? “Grant that your people, illumined by your Word and Sacraments, may shine with the radiance of Christ’s glory…”
Well, my friends, that prayer is about us. By the grace of God alone, we are his people, chosen and selected to be instruments of grace and blessing to the world around us. But to do this, we must be willing to listen, and to act with courage when the Voice speaks to us. It may only be a hunch, a feeling deep inside. But deep inside is where the Holy Spirit dwells! Have no fear, my friends. God knows how to speak to us, how to communicate in a way that we can hear. But we must listen and follow. When we do, we glorify God in our body. When we do, then we truly go forth into the world with “strength and courage to love and serve [our Lord] with gladness and singleness of heart.” So may it always be among us who share bread together at this, the Lord’s table. Amen.