Hi friends! Tim was in the pulpit this Sunday, so I’m posting a “golden oldie” from a few years back. I hope it is a blessing to you. Have a great week!

SCRIPTURE – 1 Peter 1:17-23
Since you call on a Father who judges each man’s work impartially, live your lives as strangers here in reverent fear. For you know that it was not with perishable things such as silver or gold that you were redeemed from the empty way of life handed down to you from your forefathers, but with the precious blood of Christ, a lamb without blemish or defect. He was chosen before the creation of the world, but was revealed in these last times for your sake. Through him you believe in God, who raised him from the dead and glorified him, and so your faith and hope are in God. Now that you have purified yourselves by obeying the truth so that you have sincere love for your brothers, love one another deeply, from the heart. For you have been born again, not of perishable seed, but of imperishable, through the living and enduring word of God.

SERMON

Christians Are Strange
1 Peter 1:17-23

Were you ever the new student? Do you remember that feeling on the first day of school of being the new student? I went to eight different schools in 12 years. Eight schools in 12 years. Contrary to what you might think, I wasn’t kicked out of any of those. My school-hopping was mainly because of moves or busing.

I got used to it after awhile, being the new kid, but I never liked it. Making new friends, meeting new teachers, new buildings, new classrooms. My new school in 7^th grade was so big I spent half an hour trying to find my Spanish class, only to find out I was actually enrolled in French. It’s not easy being the new kid, because from day one you’re automatically an outsider looking in, immediately labeled as weird or strange.

The folks Peter was writing to could relate to such labels. They knew what it was like to be an outsider. This letter from Peter was written to churches in the Roman provinces of Asia Minor, which is modern-day Turkey. The readers were mostly Gentiles who had heard about Jesus Christ and accepted him as the Messiah and their savior.

But being Gentile converts among Jewish believers wasn’t the only way that these folks were outsiders. You see, the early church didn’t tend to attract the social elite or the wealthy class. Its message of sacrifice and obedience didn’t have much appeal to those who had it all. Instead, the people who were drawn to the early church were the ones who had nothing to lose. That’s why the early church was comprised largely of women and slaves, two groups on the fringe of the Greco-Roman culture.

The readers of Peter’s letter were most likely women, slaves and disenfranchised workers who had no place in society. But they had found the meaning of their existence in the Christian family. The church was the one place where someone told them they mattered. Although they found no acceptance in society, they found unconditional acceptance in God’s family. The problem was that their belief in this fringe religion only made their social rejection even worse, and they were tempted to give up their faith.

So this is what these churches were struggling with: how do you maintain your Christian identity in the midst of a pervasive and oppressive pagan culture? How do you stay Christian when everyone around you is doing the opposite? A commentary I read compared the situation of these Christians to being a Christian on a college campus. How do you maintain your faith in such an environment?

At first glance, it may seem like this situation has no relevance to us today. We’re not a fringe religious movement, we’re not comprised of social outcasts and nobodies, and we certainly have the freedom to believe what we want. In an age when nonstop “God Bless Americas” ring in our ears, it is easy to forget that Christians today are also outsiders. We are surrounded by coworkers, neighbors, friends, and family who do not share our faith and hope in Jesus, and may even think of us as a little strange.

So if we are serious about living out this faith we profess, Peter’s words are relevant to us. The pep talk he gives the churches in Asia Minor can also stir our spirits if we let it. The problem is that Peter’s words are not easy, and what he calls us to do could actually make being a Christian harder rather than easier.

I wish he had said, “OK, do your best to fit in. Mix, mingle, assimilate with your non-Christian neighbors. Try not to let your faith stand out. The more you look like the locals, the less chance you have of being picked on.” But Peter doesn’t say that. He says, “Live your lives as strangers here.” Never stop being the new kid in school. Don’t go along with the jocks or the preppies or the nerds or the skaters. Don’t compromise who you are for the sake of fitting in. And who you are is the key to how you live your life.

Who are you? Peter says, “Since you call on a Father who judges each man’s work impartially, live your lives as strangers here in reverent fear.” You are one who calls God “Father.” You are a child of God. Through Christ you have been given intimate access to God, so intimate that you can speak to God as a parent speaks to a child. You have been graced with a depth of love and acceptance that no non-believer can claim. You are a child of God. That makes you different.

Having God as our father not only comes with great love, but great expectations. We don’t believe in a pushover God. I have to admit that at times I’m a pushover dad. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve said, “Sydney, if you do that one more time…” And she does it one more time, and I say, “Sydney, if you do that one more time…” and she does it one more time, and I say, “OK, I mean it, if you do it one more time…”

God is not a pushover God, and it serves us well to remember that. We tend to emphasize God’s love and grace and forgiveness at the expense of remembering that God is also a God of justice and judgment. Belief in God is not a free pass to sin. Even as believers, our actions have consequences. Knowing that God judges with absolute fairness – even the ones He loves most dearly – should drives us to live in a healthy fear and awe of Him.

Peter’s not using a scare tactic here. When he talks about “reverent fear,” he is talking about a level of respect and obedience. Proverbs says, “The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom.” Growing up I deeply loved my mom, but I also knew that she had the power and authority to ground me or to take away dessert. I didn’t presume that I had the same power as she did, and we can’t assume we have the same power as God does. To live in reverent fear of God means to give God the respect God deserves as our Father.

If Peter had stopped with this idea of “living in reverent fear,” we might believe he was trying to frighten us into good behavior. But he goes on to tell us why the way we choose to live our lives is so important. For the Asia Minor Christians, they had a whole society telling them, in one way or another, that their lives didn’t matter. They were not important. They were nobodies. They were the new kids at school who didn’t fit in, who didn’t belong.

In our society today, we have almost the opposite. We are told that our lives are so important that we can’t let anyone else tell us how to live them, and even something as life-changing as becoming a Christian doesn’t always lead to a perceptible change in a person. Peter tells us that through Christ we’ve been redeemed from the empty way of life that’s been handed down to us, and that redemption should bear fruit in our lives.

I remember as a very small child riding in the back of my cousin’s pickup truck. No car seat, no seat belt. There was a time when car seats didn’t exist, right? Babies would ride in their parents’ laps or be stretched out on the back seat. I wonder how many children were hurt or died before car seats came along? Now that we have such safety devices, I couldn’t imagine not using them. “Just throw Molly in the trunk, she’ll be fine.” “OK, Syd, you can ride on the roof to Walmart.” If we know that a life-saving option is available, why would we choose not to make use of it? We wouldn’t buy a car seat and then leave it in the garage, so why would we profess faith in Jesus Christ and not live out that faith every day?

God created us, God loves us, and we are so important to God that God sent his only son to die for us. Our lives matter. We are valuable. And because God created us, loves us, and sent Christ for us, we are called to live a life worthy of such extreme acts of love. We are called to live a life that is a reminder of God’s love for us and that is a response to that love. We are called to live out the faith that we profess, to let our love for God be the driving force behind every decision we make, from how we spend our Sundays to how we spend our money to how we treat our waitress.

If we dare to do this, we become strangers in this world, not living our lives as most others do. Living out our faith will make us different from those around us. An extreme example of this is the Amish, but we don’t have to be Amish for our faith to make us distinctive from others. Being baptized and professing belief in Christ should make a difference in our lives and change the way we live. How does your faith make you different from others in the world? What would your family, your friends, your neighbors point to in your life as evidence of your faith?

Peter urges us as Christians to remember the extravagant price that Jesus Christ paid to claim us. His precious blood should evoke our precious faith. We are different. Our lives belong to him. And so, without apology, God calls us to be different. Paul says in Romans, “Do not conform any longer to the pattern of this world, but be transformed.” You don’t have to do what the world does to be accepted. You’ve already been accepted. Now, be transformed. Let the way you live be your witness to the Good News. Be different than others. Be strange.

Hi everyone! Thanks for checking out my blog and this week’s sermon. The author of Hebrews uses the metaphor of a race to describe living a life of faith. Sometimes I feel more like I’m stumbling than striding! But this scripture encourages us to not give up, and gives us several reasons why. I hope it inspires you, too! 

SCRIPTURE – Hebrews 11:29-12:2
By faith the people passed through the Red Sea as on dry land; but when the Egyptians tried to do so, they were drowned. By faith the walls of Jericho fell, after the people had marched around them for seven days. By faith the prostitute Rahab, because she welcomed the spies, was not killed with those who were disobedient.

And what more shall I say? I do not have time to tell about Gideon, Barak, Samson, Jephthah, David, Samuel and the prophets, who through faith conquered kingdoms, administered justice, and gained what was promised; who shut the mouths of lions, quenched the fury of the flames, and escaped the edge of the sword; whose weakness was turned to strength; and who became powerful in battle and routed foreign armies. Women received back their dead, raised to life again. Others were tortured and refused to be released, so that they might gain a better resurrection. Some faced jeers and flogging, while still others were chained and put in prison. They were stoned; they were sawed in two; they were put to death by the sword. They went about in sheepskins and goatskins, destitute, persecuted and mistreated— the world was not worthy of them. They wandered in deserts and mountains, and in caves and holes in the ground.

These were all commended for their faith, yet none of them received what had been promised. God had planned something better for us so that only together with us would they be made perfect.

Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us. Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.

SERMON
Remembering Those Before Us
Heb. 11:29-12:2
August 19, 2007

We pick up this week from where we left off last week in the book of Hebrews. If you remember, last week the author gave a paradoxical definition of faith – being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see – then lifted up Abraham and Sarah has examples of people who trusted in God even when the motivation for doing so wasn’t apparent. The kept their faith even when they didn’t have a good reason to do so.

Remember the audience: the author is writing to a group of newly converted Christians who are facing serious persecution and are considering returning to Judaism. They were struggling to understand if what they believed about Christ was actually true and worth the sacrifice. Wouldn’t it be easy to just give in and go back to what’s safe?

So in Chapter 11, the author unrolls an impressive list of people who down through the ages lived out their faith, believing in God’s promises despite the evidence. He starts with Abraham and Sarah, and moves to Noah, Jacob, Joseph, and Moses.

That’s where we pick up today. The author continues name-dropping from the Old Testament, a total of 18 in all. As former Jews, his audience would have been familiar with each name. Each story would bring to mind a reminiscence. Each phrase about a hero of the past would ring a bell and stir a memory.

Moses leading the people through the Red Sea. A rag-tag band of soldiers helping make the walls of Jericho fall. Rahab saving the life of Israelite spies. And the author says, “I really don’t have time to tell you any more,” then goes on to list Gideon, Barak, Samson, Jephthah, David, Samuel, and the prophets. He reminds them of people who conquered kingdoms and administered justice, who routed foreign armies and escaped the mouths of lions.

Then the author brings it down a notch, moving from the unanimous successes to those whose fate was less desirable. Don’t forget about the faithful who were tortured, chained, and put in prison. They were stoned and put to death by the sword and – my personal favorite – sawed in two. And yet, through all of this, they never lost their faith.

Now, put yourselves in the shoes of the readers of Hebrews. You’re complaining about a little persecution, you’re balking at some harassment, you’re thinking of packing it in at the first sign of trouble. And then you get this letter. Did Abraham give in? Did Moses throw in the towel? They kept the faith, and so should you.

At first glance, this chapter reads like a visit to the inspirational Faith Hall of Fame. As you walk in, you see statues of Gideon and Barak. There is David’s crown and a lock from Samson’s hair. In this other wing there are memorials to those who suffered for their faith. Look, there’s the statue of the man who was sawn in two – and over there are his legs!

And yet, if we look more closely at the plaques, we notice a bit of tarnish on each one. Abraham? He lied about being married to save his own skin – twice! Jacob? He swindled his brother twice and deliberately deceived his father. The almighty Moses? A stutterer with low self-esteem – oh, and a murderer. Rahab was a prostitute. Gideon worshipped idols. Barak was blood-thirsty. Samson was the Dennis Rodman of his time, with a wild lifestyle and libido to match. Jephthah made a foolish vow that cost his daughter her life. David was an adulterer and murderer. Samuel was a complete failure as a father. The prophets? Don’t even get me started on all their neuroses. All of a sudden our extraordinary people of faith are looking quite… ordinary.

Exactly. There was nothing extraordinary about any of these people, except for one thing: they never lost sight of the promise they couldn’t see. They never stopped being sure of what they hoped for. They lived out their faith.

Who would be in your personal Faith Hall of Fame? I would put my mom, who always encouraged me to go to church, but never forced me. I’d put Rick Burch in there. He taught my young adult Sunday School class, which, more often than not, had an attendance of one. But he was there every Sunday. Dr. Dwight Stewart would be in there. And Bruce Barkhauer and David Shirey and Larry Kleiman, all ministers I’ve had the privilege of working with. My grandparents would be in there, too. Who’s in yours? Who had an impact on you growing up?

I say to you what the author of Hebrews is saying to his audience: “Dont’ forget on whose shoulders you are standing.” And then he says the most amazing, improbable thing: None of these people received what God had promised. God planned something better for us so that only together with us would they be made perfect. Do you realize what he’s saying? Our heroes of faith are relying on us to finish the race they started.

Now, last time I checked, we haven’t had any congregation members that were sawed in half. No one here has lived in a cave or hole in the ground, and I think I’m safe in saying that, unless you’ve raised teenagers, you haven’t been subjected to any cruel torture. So I ask: what do we have to offer these examples of faith? What can we possibly do that will help bring them to their perfection?

As I see it, there’s only one thing we can do. We can trust God, even when the evidence says we shouldn’t. We can live out the definition of faith, being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we don’t see. In the midst of our own trials, we can trust in God’s promises of love and guidance. As our relationships and marriages are sawed in two, we trust. As the loss of jobs and death of family members banish us to the dark caves in our hearts, we trust. As we are subjected to the cruel torture of just being alive in this selfish, violent, excessive world, we trust.

Not an easy thing, is it? Our faith is challenged every day. My guess is that so was Moses’. And Samson’s. And Dr. Stewart’s. And yet, to use the author’s metaphor, they have run the race. They were commended for their faith, and have crossed the finish line. They have fought the good fight and not given up, even when it would have been so easy.

And then the author of Hebrews hits us with one of my favorite verses in the Bible. Notice the word it starts with: “therefore.” That implies that all that’s been said before bears weight on what comes next. And what comes next is this: “Since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses” – remember who is in your cloud of witnesses – “let us throw of everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us.”

Isn’t that a beautiful image? Here we are, in the stadium of life, running our race, and there in the stands are all the folks who’ve come before us, calling our name, encouraging us to cross the finish line. With such a cheering section behind us, how can we give up running?

Even though we get weighed down, we are called to throw of everything that hinders and entangles, and run with perseverance. That’s a key word here. Life is no 100-yard dash. You might get through one week, but that’s not perseverance. We have a clothes hanger at home that just recently discovered is actually a treadmill, so I’ve started running on it.  I’ll crank up the speed and run until I’m tired and sweaty and my side hurts and I’m ready to fall down. That’s the first 30 seconds. After that, it gets a little tougher. But I keep running.

Run with perseverance. Run as if you have somewhere to run. In the Christian life, we have a goal. We are not tourists here, who return each night to where we start. We are pilgrims, ever on the way. The Christian life should be going somewhere, and each week when we gather here, we should see if we’re any further along than last week.

We run, because Jesus has set the course. Hebrews says he’s both the pioneer and perfecter of our faith. He’s the one who gives us faith, and he’s the one who makes it complete. We don’t have to finish first or beat someone else; we only have to run, knowing that Jesus runs with us.

The baton has been passed from Abel to Noah to Abraham, each runner handing it to the next one. Down through the centuries many famous people – and many more people we’ve never heard of – have run the race, trusting in God despite the circumstances, throwing off the weight of anything that was keeping them from God. And now the baton has been handed to you.

What weight do we need to throw off today? A particular behavior? An attitude toward someone? A feeling that we’re not good enough? A schedule that leaves no time for God? Throw off everything that hinders and run the race that’s been set out of for you. Be the best Christian you can be. Live the most Christ-like life you can live. There are no shortcuts. It’s not always easy. But there is a whole stadium full of witnesses cheering you on. Keep running.

 QUESTIONS

1 - Do you have a favorite Old Testament character?

2 - Whose memory inspires you to keep on running?

3 – What weight do you find hardest throw off in this race?

How do you define the word ”faith”? Not only is it hard to define, but it’s hard to live out that definition! This week, the writer of Hebrews defines faith, and then gives an example of a couple who lived that out. Were they perfect? No way. But they were faithful. 

SCRIPTURES – Hebrews 11:1-3, 8-16

Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see. 2This is what the ancients were commended for. By faith we understand that the universe was formed at God’s command, so that what is seen was not made out of what was visible.

By faith Abraham, when called to go to a place he would later receive as his inheritance, obeyed and went, even though he did not know where he was going. By faith he made his home in the promised land like a stranger in a foreign country; he lived in tents, as did Isaac and Jacob, who were heirs with him of the same promise. For he was looking forward to the city with foundations, whose architect and builder is God.

By faith Abraham, even though he was past age—and Sarah herself was barren—was enabled to become a father because he considered him faithful who had made the promise. And so from this one man, and he as good as dead, came descendants as numerous as the stars in the sky and as countless as the sand on the seashore.

All these people were still living by faith when they died. They did not receive the things promised; they only saw them and welcomed them from a distance. And they admitted that they were aliens and strangers on earth. People who say such things show that they are looking for a country of their own. If they had been thinking of the country they had left, they would have had opportunity to return. Instead, they were longing for a better country—a heavenly one. Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God, for he has prepared a city for them.

SERMON

Heb. 11:1-3, 8-16
August 12, 2007

This passage speaks directly to several conversations I’ve had in the past few weeks. The conversations were all very different, but had the same theme running through them. One was with a young woman who is just now starting to explore her faith and learning all about what it means to follow Jesus. Another was with a woman who is trying to move deeper into to faith, but is struggling with what it means to give your whole self to God, to step into that realm of faith. And the last one was a good friend who just lost his sister-in-law to disease. He prayed and prayed for her to get better, but she didn’t. What does that mean for his faith? All three of these people were wrestling with what it means to have faith, and what it means to live out that faith.

The book of Hebrews was written for people like these, people who don’t have all the answers and are sometimes dogged by the questions. The author is writing to a group of new believers in Christ who are trying to decide if what is being preached about him is really true. These people were Jews who were probably considering a return to their former religion. They were constantly being persecuted for their faith in Christ as the Messiah, and their resolve is weakening. Wouldn’t it be easier and safer to not have faith than to have faith?

Of course it would. In the short-term, at least. What all three of my conversation partners were expressing, and what many of us know, is that having faith is not easy. In the movie “Dead Man Walking,” Sister Helen Prejean is a nun who ministers to people on death row. At one point, a visitor says he admires how she is able to keep her faith in such discouraging circumstances, and she responds, “Oh, it’s not faith. It’s work.”

Yes! Amen! That’s one of the most accurate definitions I’ve ever heard for having faith. The author of Hebrews offers another one: “Faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see.” Paul says it another way: “Fix your eyes on what is unseen, because what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.” He also says, “We walk by faith, not by sight.”

That’s easier said that done, isn’t it? When Molly was just learning to walk, one of her favorite activities was to put a blanket over her head and just take off. She didn’t care what was in front of her. She’d run into chairs, into furniture, into walls. She would bounce off, fall down, laugh, and do it all over again.

Sometimes believing – walking by faith and not by sight – is like putting a blanket over our head and taking off. And sometimes it feels like we run into walls. Wouldn’t it be easier to put our trust in what is seen? Wouldn’t it make more sense to walk by sight, to trust our senses, instead of a God who we can’t see or hold or take to lunch?

When I was a journalist, I liked the fact that every question had an answer. I didn’t need to have faith that the city councilman knew what he was doing; I could ask him, make him prove himself. And if he couldn’t answer, I wouldn’t believe. It was very simple and made for great copy.

But Christian faith is something completely different. For sure, there is a lot to know. We could study the Bible for our entire lifetime and only scratch the surface of what it says. Bible study is one of my favorite spiritual disciplines because there is so much that it has to say, and each time I read it, it says something new. There is a lot we can know about Christianity.

But that amount is infinitesimal to what we don’t know, and never will know, about the God in whom we believe. I wonder if part of my love for Bible study comes from my desire to reduce the unknown about God. The more I study the Bible, the more I know about God, the less mysterious God seems. The more comfortable I become with my faith. The easier God fits into my box I’ve designed for Him.

But what I’ve come to learn, and what the author of Hebrews is trying to tell his audience, is that there’s a limit to what we can know, and when we reach that threshold, we have to decide what we want to do about it. Faith that can see every step of the way isn’t really faith. So, do we slink back from the edge of faith, unable to give our whole self and make that leap into the unknown? Or do we step forward beyond the limits of our understanding, trusting that, whatever is out there, Jesus has gone before us and is waiting for us there?

There are three steps I have experienced in my faith journey that speak to these threshold experiences. When I first started out, I wanted information. I wanted to know everything I could about God and Jesus and the Bible. I soaked up information like a sponge. I have shelves full of books and binders full of notes. I wanted the who, what, where, when, and why of God.

Then, at some point, I moved from information to formation. The words I was reading started to have an effect on me; they began to shape who I was and how I lived. God was using the Bible and prayer and other people to form me into the person God had called me to be.

And finally came the third step. I went from information to formation to transformation. At some point, I became a person of faith. Now, I can’t look back and give you a day and time. I have no conversion to speak of. I like to think of it more as a journey; at some point, while I was walking along, I happened to look over and saw that Christ was walking with me. When did he get here? How long had he been there? I don’t know. But he was there.

I believe it’s that acknowledgement that God is looking for in us. God doesn’t want us to just know about him; he wants us to know him. God is more concerned with our trust than our level of understanding. And that trust is always borne out in how our lives are changed by our faith, in how we are different from those who don’t believe. If we’re really not that different, what does that say?

Transformation is the at the heart of faith, and I believe that’s what the author of Hebrews is getting at when he lifts up Abraham and Sarah as examples.  You see, faith is ultimately indefinable. The best way to tell someone what faith is is to show them what it looks like. Pastor Mike Erre says, “What you believe and what you trust are always revealed in how you live and act. I know that the people in church each Sunday trust their chairs and pews because they sit in them. We trust our cars because we drive them. When we look both ways before crossing the street, we trust our senses because we act on what we see and hear. Trust always reveals itself in behavior.”

For Abraham, that behavior was trusting in God when God called him to pack up his household and hit the road without knowing where he was going. And he did it. He traveled around, lived in tents, made his home in foreign lands. When God told Abraham that he and his 90-year-old wife Sarah were going to have a child, he believed him, despite all the evidence to the contrary.

But here’s the kicker. God also promised Abraham that He would make Abraham’s name great, and that he would make his descendants more numerous than the grains of sand on the beach. And you know what? Abraham believed him. Abraham knew he wouldn’t live to see this promise fulfilled, and yet he still believed. The truly great thing about Abraham and Sarah’s faith is not that they believed the promise about their son Isaac that came true, but that they believed all those far-off promises that didn’t come true in their lifetimes.

Now, I don’t want you to get the idea that Abraham and Sarah are some kind of faith superheroes. They’re not mentioned here because they are perfect. In fact, they were far from it. The Bible doesn’t make us privy to all their conversations, but I would have to think, considering what God was telling them, that they had their share of doubts. You want me to do what? Go where? My wife is going to have a what? Isn’t our natural response to God’s call in our lives one of incredulity and doubt?

Not only is that natural, I think it’s healthy. Doubt isn’t abandoning your faith; it’s simply questioning the assumptions. After years of trying to understanding everything about God, I’ve come to the conclusion that I don’t want all the answers, because that would be (1) overwhelming and (2) boring. But the consequence of not having all the answers is living with the doubt.

Deep down, that’s what all three of my conversation partners were dealing with. I want to believe, but I still have these doubts. But we don’t have to eradicate all our doubts in order to believe. In fact, I think doubt is essential to faith. As we have our doubts, as we ask our questions, as we seek our answers, as we experience the trustworthiness and goodness of God, our faith grows. It may be more of a stagger than a leap, but it grows.

Faith is hope that has turned to certainty. Faith is the conviction that it is better to suffer with God than prosper without him. Faith is trust that we don’t have all the answers, but someone does, and that someone loves us. Every day we are called to go out like Abraham, to start a journey with an unknown destination. We’re not sure where God is taking us, but we trust that God will be walking beside us each step of the way. In the end, for me, a recovering journalist and former skeptic, that is enough.

QUESTIONS

 1 – What characteristic about God do you find it hardest to believe?

2 – What do you think is the greatest barrier to people having faith and trusting in God?

3 – Is there an area of your life where you trust of God is the strongest? Why is that?

This week’s sermon was on one of my favorite parables: the story of the farmer who built bigger barns to hold all his crops. Jesus says a lot in these few verses. I hope you are blessed this week!

SCRIPTURE - Luke 12:13-21
Someone in the crowd said to him, “Teacher, tell my brother to divide the inheritance with me.” Jesus replied, “Man, who appointed me a judge or an arbiter between you?” hen he said to them, “Watch out! Be on your guard against all kinds of greed; a man’s life does not consist in the abundance of his possessions.”

And he told them this parable: “The ground of a certain rich man produced a good crop. He thought to himself, ‘What shall I do? I have no place to store my crops.’ ”Then he said, ‘This is what I’ll do. I will tear down my barns and build bigger ones, and there I will store all my grain and my goods. And I’ll say to myself, “You have plenty of good things laid up for many years. Take life easy; eat, drink and be merry.” ‘

“But God said to him, ‘You fool! This very night your life will be demanded from you. Then who will get what you have prepared for yourself?’ ”This is how it will be with anyone who stores up things for himself but is not rich toward God.”

SERMON

The Security of God
Luke 12:13-21
August 5, 2007

One of the things I really admire about Jesus is that he rarely avoided the tough questions. He constantly had these very cunning religious leaders trying to trap him at every turn, and he always found a way to outsmart them. In fact, he seemed almost eager about tackling these questions head-on.

Pastors, on the other hand, aren’t quite as gung-ho about it. When talking to someone about our church, I’m always afraid that they’re going to ask a question that really puts me on the spot. “Pastor, does your church believe that I could be reincarnated as a Twinkie?” “Um…You know, our associate Tim majored on that very subject in seminary. I’ll go get him.”

Should we pay taxes to Caesar? Jesus had an answer. What is the greatest commandment? Jesus had an answer. Yet in our passage today, when this man lobs Jesus a softball question and asks him to help divide up the inheritance, Jesus says, “Who made me judge over you?”

On the surface, it’s not an unusual request. In the ancient world there weren’t judges and courtrooms, so often people would bring their disputes to rabbis, who were considered some of the wisest folks in society. The rabbi would arbitrate these disputes and decide one way or another. But in this case, Jesus doesn’t take the case. Maybe he knew the motives here.

What’s probably going on is that a man has died and his two sons are squabbling over who gets the Lexus and who gets the country club membership. This is not about fairness; it’s about greed. It’s sad that, in the wake of his father’s death, all the man wanted was his father’s stuff. And it’s sad that all the father left his son was the prospect of more stuff. Jesus wants no part of enabling this man’s greed.

Instead, he tells this interesting parable about a farmer who had an unexpected bumper crop. His silos and barns were already full, so he had to decide what to do with all this extra food. After a conversation with himself, he decides to build even bigger barns to hold his harvest, so he can sit back and enjoy the good life while he lives off the earnings of this windfall.

But wouldn’t you know it? As soon as the man says he’s going to take it easy, the rope on his hammock snapped, he tumbled down his manicured lawn, fell off his brick patio, landed in his in-ground pool and drowned. And Jesus drives home the point by saying, “This is what happens when we put our security in our crops rather than in God.”

There are a couple of interesting things to notice about this farmer. First, technically he doesn’t do anything wrong. He doesn’t steal, he doesn’t kill anyone, he doesn’t cheat to get ahead. No workers are mistreated; the man is actually very careful and conservative. Jesus doesn’t say the man is bad; he simply calls him a fool.

Jesus also doesn’t scold this man for having an abundance. He doesn’t chastise him for having a bumper crop. Jesus would support the owning of possessions. He didn’t take a vow of poverty; he was accused of being a glutton and a drunkard, which means he had to have a way to buy his food and drink. How can we ever become responsible stewards if we never have anything for which to be responsible? We don’t say to a child, “Learn to read and then I’ll give you a book” or “Learn to swim and then I’ll put you in the water.” Now, this understanding doesn’t let us off the hook for how we deal with our possessions, but it should remove some of the guilt this passage could cause us.

So if this man doesn’t do anything wrong to get his wealth, and it wasn’t wrong for him to have it, what’s the problem here? I believe his greatest error is in how he viewed what he had. Pay attention to the pronouns here: “’This is what I’ll do. I will tear down my barns and build bigger ones, and there I will store all my grain and my goods. And I’ll say to myself, “Self, you have plenty of good things laid up for many years. Take life easy; eat, drink and be merry.” ‘

My barns, my grain, my goods, my things. And yet what does Jesus say at the beginning of the parable? “The ground of a certain rich man produced a good crop.” When you consider the amazing way that the rain and soil and seed and sunshine work together to make this crop into an abundant harvest, it’s almost comical to hear the farmer in the story speak of “I” and “mine,” as if it was through his efforts alone that the plants grew. His first mistake was not acknowledging that all good gifts do not come from our own hard work and effort; they come from God and the gifts God gave us, like our intelligence and our skills that allows us to earn a living and take care of our families.

The farmer’s next mistake was where he placed his trust and security. You would think he would have learned that there is no security in earthly things. A farmer who works the ground should know that he is at the mercy of the land, which doesn’t always produce as it should. And yet, this farmer builds bigger barns to hold his wealth, thinking his wealth would determine his security.

One day, a young man asked rich old man how he made his money. The old guy said, “Son, it was 1932. The depth of the Great Depression. I was down to my last nickel. I invested that nickel in an apple. I spent the whole day polishing the apple, then sold it for a dime. Next morning, I bought two apples, spent the day polishing those, and sold them for 20 cents. I continued this system for a month, and by the end of the month I had accumulated 1.37.”

The young guy said, “I see. So that’s how you built your empire?”

The old guy said, “No way! Then my wife’s father died and left us two million dollars.”

Earthly things like wealth and possessions come and go; they are not reliable. Who knows when, as the passage puts it, our life will be demanded of us? What good is our earthly accumulation then When that happens to this man, God says to him, “Who will get what you have prepared for yourself?” In other words, who is going to benefit from the wealth you intended for yourself? Because it certainly wasn’t going to be him.

I believe Jesus is helping his listeners pay attention to God’s will in this story. If a farmer’s fields produce abundantly, more than what he needs, it is a gift from God to be shared. God doesn’t bless us with the expectation that the blessing ends with us. God fills our cups so that we may pour out some of what we’ve received.

I spent part of my childhood in the state of Kentucky. Now, that state has received more than its share of ridicule, but here’s something very admirable about it. It is one of four states in our country that was originally known as a commonwealth – the commonwealth of Kentucky. Now think about that phrase for a second – the commonwealth. The idea that whatever I have belongs to everyone else as well, that whatever wealth I have is shared with those around me.

The farmer didn’t want to live that way He equates abundant life with abundant things. He practiced what I call practical atheism. He believed in God when it worked in his favor, and didn’t believe in God when it kept him from enjoying the good life, when faith just got in the way. Instead of sharing, this man wanted to hoard what he had, storing up more than he needed with the thought that full barns equaled security.

But as we all know, life is too capricious to put our trust in it. Can we really find peace of mind in anything in this world? As soon as we try, it crumbles. We build our barns on seemingly steady ground, only to find it was actually shifting sand. We put our trust in people only to be let down. We put our trust in doctors only to find they can’t work miracles. We put our trust in ourselves, only to fall short. There is no true security in this world.

Instead, our security is found in God. It is found in a faith that isn’t vulnerable to the whims of this life. Our security comes from our growing relationship with the One who was, and is, and is to come, the One who we call our rock and our fortress, the one who is from everlasting to everlasting.

And as we do this, we begin to build something much greater than a place to store our stuff. Jesus doesn’t encourage us to avoid a life of success, but to choose a life of significance, a life which is balanced and meaningful, a life where the dominant pronouns are “we” and “our,” not “me” and “mine.”

What are we building? In the race to succeed, to accumulate, to give ourselves the good life, what are we building? Are we building our lives around God, or around something else? Ultimately, when we die, our stuff will be given away, whether we like it or not. Why not choose to participate in that sharing, and thus experience the joy of giving to others?

We are all wealthy, aren’t we? And our wealth opens up choices for us about how we honor God and use those resources we have been given.  Are we practicing faith or practical atheists? The truth is that, if we are a Christian, every day our life is demanded of us. Every day we are called to give our lives for the work of God’s kingdom. So what are we building?

QUESTIONS

1 – Who is the most generous person you know?

2 – With what in this parable do you most relate? What about it makes you the most uncomfortable?

3 – Jesus says, “Watch out! Be on guard against all kinds of greed.” How can we do this?