Hi friends! Sorry to be slow in posting this week; yesterday was my wife’s birthday, and a cold has knocked me flat. Here’s the sermon from Sunday, as we continued our “Death by Suburb” sermon series. It addresses the question of why we serve. Have a great week!

 SCRIPTURE – Matthew 6:1-4

“Be careful not to do your ‘acts of righteousness’ before men, to be seen by them. If you do, you will have no reward from your Father in heaven. “So when you give to the needy, do not announce it with trumpets, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and on the streets, to be honored by men. I tell you the truth, they have received their reward in full. But when you give to the needy, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, so that your giving may be in secret. Then your Father, who sees what is done in secret, will reward you.

SERMON

Death by Suburb sermon series
#6 – Service: Volunteer of the Year
Oct. 28, 2007

I have a new business concept that I want to share with you. You can tell me if you think it’s any good or not. The idea is for a gas station, but it’s not like any gas station you’ve ever seen. When you pull up to the pump, instead of getting out of your car, a person comes from inside the gas station, asks you how much gas you want, and pumps your gas for you. I think I’ll call them “attendants.” Not only will they pump your gas, but they’ll also wash your windshield and even check your oil if you want, all while you wait inside the comfort of your vehicle. Isn’t that a novel concept?

Of course it’s not. Once upon a time, all gas stations operated that way. I can still remember pulling into gas stations in my hometown and choosing between the two islands: full-service and self-service. When’s the last time you saw a full-service gas station? Nowadays, everything is self-service, from gas stations to banks to grocery stores.

But when held up to the biblical understanding of how we are to relate to each other, the concept of self-service is an oxymoron. In the Bible, “to serve” automatically implies an outward orientation toward another person. But in the suburbs, service tends to flow back to us, even when it appears to be oriented to someone else. You could argue that all service in the suburbs is self-service.

Let me give you an example, and I hope I don’t step on any toes here. In the past few years, I’ve had several parents and youth in our church ask me to sign forms that said the youth had done a certain amount of community service. I guess there’s now a requirement in local schools that students must complete a certain amount of work in the community. And certainly, colleges are putting more and more emphasis on a young person’s philanthropic involvement in the community.

Here’s another example. This church use to have something called the Cross-Eyed Owl award. It was given at each birthday dinner to a person in the congregation who had gone above and beyond the call of duty in serving CCC. Each year someone was singled out for their contribution to the church and awarded the Cross-Eyed Owl statue.

Now, in both these examples, I don’t want anyone to think for a minute that I’m questioning the worthiness of the work or the worker. The more we can have people helping, the better. And people like to feel appreciated for the work they do. I’m not saying that Cross-Eyed Owl winners only served for the award or high school students only serve to meet a requirement. But what I want us to explore this morning is the motivation behind why we serve.

Why do we serve? That question first assumes that we do serve. I would like to think that is true of all Christians, but I can’t tell you how many people have told me they enjoy going to big churches because they can be anonymous, just sit in the pews without being asked to do anything. They’re just too busy with all their other suburban obligations to help out at the church. Jesus said he came not to be served but to serve, but I wonder if at times we don’t come to church with just the opposite way of thinking.

For those of us who do serve, I would argue that for many of us, it’s out of desire to make a difference. That’s one of the main reasons why I got into ministry. We want our lives to have meaning. That’s the whole point behind “The Purpose-Driven Life,” isn’t it? We serve so that we have a purpose, so that we feel like we’re doing something to give back and help out.

Is there anything wrong with that? Yes and no. No, because we all want to feel like our lives mean something. That’s human nature. But what’s potentially wrong with that approach to serving is that if we are serving in order to make ourselves feel better, we are engaging in self-service, and the people being helped are just a means to the end of our own self-fulfillment.

In his book “Death by Suburb,” David Goetz tells about how he volunteered for a ministry program that helped inmates transition back into the world after their incarceration. He was paired with a prisoner named Pete, who was close to his parole. Goetz met repeatedly with Pete, working with him to help smooth the difficult transition from prison to a local halfway house. Goetz said he had big dreams for Pete that included Pete marrying his girlfriend, buying a house, and settling down in suburbia.

So imagine Goetz’s anger when he found out that Pete had been arrested again after only a few months out of jail. Goetz said he was furious, because Pete had jeopardized all of Goetz’s plans for him. Goetz was using Pete in his pursuit of significance. He wanted to help a poor person become a suburbanite just like him. Forget that maybe that’s not what Pete wanted or needed.

In our performance-oriented suburban culture, we expect results from everything, even our service. If we’re going to put in the time or the money, we expect change. Last year while we were in New Orleans for our mission trip, some of us visited the house we had worked on the previous year. And it hadn’t been touched in all that time. I was furious! How could we put in all that time and effort, only to have the house look exactly the same? I was expecting to walk up a flower lined path, through a neatly mowed yard, to knock on a freshly painted door and be greeted by a smiling, grateful woman with a plate of chocolate chip cookies. Never mind that there were thousands of other houses that had never been worked on. I wanted my house to be different. What’s the point in helping others if we’re not going to see some results?

But service can be messy, and doesn’t always end the way we want. That’s why Goetz says we often find ourselves mostly serving in safe or comfortable programs, where we won’t get dirty or no relationship with someone in deep need will form. There are people who need friends, who need money, who need guidance because they are in such deep poverty or despair. But why get involved in that? There’s no upside for us.

If we can’t get results from our service, then at least we should get some recognition. I think in the suburbs we often confuse prominence with significance. We think the more prominent a service is, the more important it must be. How can our lives make a difference if no one sees us making a difference? I don’t think we consciously scream “Look at me!” when we’re serving, but its human nature to want to be appreciated.

But if you’ve spent any time serving in a church, you know not all the ways we serve are going to be glamorous. Not every ministry we participate in will be recognized and applauded. But there’s a difference between prominence and significance. My nose is prominent, but I can live without it. And although my lungs aren’t prominent, I’d say they’re pretty significant. Some ways of serving are more visible than others, but that doesn’t mean they are more meaningful than others.

The challenge for us in suburbia is to make the move from self-service to full-service, where our focus is on serving others, and then to God-service, where our reason for serving is not prominence or even importance, but obedience. Goetz says, “Finding our purpose comes not from the results of service but the act of obedience. No matter what the call…inner freedom comes as I pursue truth, justice, and righteousness without needing to be seen as right or needing to see the results I want.” In other words we serve because we have been served, and are called to do the same.

Pastor David Shirey tells a story he heard about the building of the National Cathedral in Washington DC. One of the foremen on the construction crew noticed that a certain stonemason was spending a lot of time on one of the gargoyles that would adorn the very top of the cathedral. Knowing they were falling behind schedule, the foreman said to the stonemason, “Why are you spending so much time on this gargoyle? Don’t you know that it’s going to be so high up that it won’t even be visible to the people below?” And the stonemason replied, “I’m not doing this for the people below.”

What we are called to do may benefit the people here below – the kids in Sunday School, the homeless coming to St. Bart’s for a meal, our neighbors and friends – but our ultimate motivation isn’t to do it for the people below – including ourselves – but in response to God’s gift of Jesus Christ and the call to share that gift.

It all comes back to that relationship. Eric Sandras says that many of us are lured into being busy for God, while sacrificing true relationship with Him. A week full of service opportunities will never take the place of an hour spent with God. It is that hour, that time, that relationship that helps us understand why we do everything else we do. Not for ourselves. Not even for others. But for God. We are here not to be served, but to serve.

QUESTIONS

1 – What is your favorite way to serve?

2 – Why do you think some people want to go to church and remain anonymous?

3 – In reference to Jesus’ words in the passage, do you find it difficult to balance your desire to serve with the human need to be apppreciated? Why or why not? 

Hi everyone! I hope you had a chance to enjoy the beautiful weather this weekend. I spent Saturday working with a Habitat for Humanity crew – and spent Sunday recovering! This week’s sermon looks at how we deal with the struggles of life. Even in the suburbs, we have little control over the cards life can deal us. What we do control is how we respond. Have a great week! 

SCRIPTURE
Romans 5:1-5 – Therefore, since we have been justified through faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have gained access by faith into this grace in which we now stand. And we rejoice in the hope of the glory of God. Not only so, but we also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not disappoint us, because God has poured out his love into our hearts by the Holy Spirit, whom he has given us.

Luke 9:18-24 – Once when Jesus was praying in private and his disciples were with him, he asked them, “Who do the crowds say I am?” They replied, “Some say John the Baptist; others say Elijah; and still others, that one of the prophets of long ago has come back to life.” ”But what about you?” he asked. “Who do you say I am?” Peter answered, “The Christ of God.” Jesus strictly warned them not to tell this to anyone. nd he said, “The Son of Man must suffer many things and be rejected by the elders, chief priests and teachers of the law, and he must be killed and on the third day be raised to life.” Then he said to them all: “If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me. For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me will save it.

SERMON
Death by Suburb sermon series
#5 – Grace: Hiring A Cross-Bearing Service
October 21, 2007

You may or may not know the name Joni Eareckson Tada. Joni is a well-known Christian writer and speaker who has inspired millions through her books, radio programs, and her Christian outreach organization Joni and Friends.

She is also a quadriplegic. A diving accident when she was young left her paralyzed from the neck down and confined to a wheelchair. Despite this tragedy, Joni has been able to use her disability as a means for reaching out and spreading the gospel to people in similar circumstances around the world.

David Goetz, in his book “Death by Suburb,” tells the story of an interview he conducted with Joni several years back. As he fumbled and stumbled with how to interact with her (at one point he handed her a magazine to look at without realizing she couldn’t hold it), he was amazed at her graciousness and willingness to accept help. He said when they discussed the meaning of suffering, one comment she made stuck with him and continues to haunt him. In an almost off-handed way, in talking about her circumstance, Joni said, “I think life is supposed to be hard.”

But that perspective doesn’t fit into our suburban existence. Today we continue our “Death by Suburb” sermon series as we look at ways we can continue to grow deeper spiritually in a culture that is at best apathetic and at worst hostile to such growth.

Back in January I preached a sermon series called “Christianity’s Dirty Words,” and one of the words we looked at was “suffering.” I made the point then that the concept of suffering in Christianity is one that we often run away from because we can’t make sense of it. Shouldn’t giving yourself to Christ make life better, not worse?

But suffering is a key part of the Bible, especially in the New Testament, where the words “suffer” or “suffering” occur 86 times. The people who were reading and hearing the New Testament when it was first being shared knew what suffering was all about. They were experiencing it on a daily basis, and it was much different than our modern definition of suffering.

Today, living in suburban America, we are in many ways disconnected from the biblical understanding of suffering. Webster’s defines “suffer” as “to undergo or feel pain or distress.” But that definition has been fudged a bit when we read that a football team suffered its first loss, or when someone says, “I had to suffer through that sermon after drinking three cups of coffee.” Hard times are when Rte. 22 is down to one lane because of construction. For us “suffering” describes anything that even slightly threatens the comfortable state of existence we’ve worked hard to create for ourselves.

In fact, you could argue that we’ve conditioned ourselves to believe that to suffer is an unnecessary interruption of our normal life. We do everything in our power to reduce or eliminate suffering. We buy chairs that massage and flavored coffees and cars with heated seats until “suffering” no longer has anything to do with “undergoing or feeling pain and distress.” “Suffering” becomes sitting in a cold car seat or sitting in a boring old chair that does nothing but sits there or drinking coffee that tastes like…coffee. We’ve diluted the meaning of “suffering.” It no longer means “to undergo or feel pain or distress.” It now means “to do without an expected luxury or to have our sense of entitlement disrupted.”

And that is why I believe Joni’s quote hits us in the gut. We’ve constructed our lives in such a way that we’ve come to expect that life was meant to be easy, and when it’s not, we believe something is wrong (and it’s usually God’s fault). Instead, what Joni is saying is life that is meant to be hard, and any period of our lives that isn’t defined by struggle or adversity is a blessing.

Think about all the services we have at our disposal to remove from our lives the more mundane or difficult aspects. We can pay people to mow our lawns, watch our kids, look after our parents, pick up our dry cleaning, deliver our groceries, drive us to the airport, help our kids with their homework, and do our Christmas shopping.

And yet, we can’t hire someone to bear our crosses for us. Wouldn’t it be nice if there were a service we could hire that would have cancer for us, or straighten out our children for us, or worry about paying the mortgage for us? Life would be so much easier if someone else would handle the hard parts for us so we could just enjoy it.

But I wonder if life isn’t supposed to be hard. That’s certainly the message I get from Paul this morning. He says that suffering produces character and character produces hope. Hope is the desire that things will be better than what they are. Because life is hard, we always have a reason for hope.

A more modern writer named Len Sweet says it this way: “We’ve become so used to being fed on demand with quick fixes that we’ve forgotten that it’s the hard knocks in life, those character-building moments, that help us make it through life with inner peace and joy intact.”

We better begin remembering, because as we age, life is not going to get any easier. Here’s proof: There are more replacement parts in this congregation than in a ’68 Mustang. As we get older and lose more and control over our lives, we embark on what Richard Rohr calls the journey of descent. That journey is difficult for those of us who are used to being control of who does what and when they do it.

That’s why we struggle with what we perceive to be God’s unfairness. Just when we think we are in control of life, it picks us up like a tornado and drops us in some random place of despair, like an attorney’s office or a hospital room or a wheelchair. And we think, “God, what have I done to deserve this?”

What we’ve done is we’ve dared to live. Simply being alive is a risky proposition, and every day we expose ourselves to the forces of life that threaten our livelihood, well-being, and very existence. No amount of money or comfort or stability changes the fact that, as so many of us know too well, life can change, and we have no control over it.

What we do control is our attitude about those inevitable changes. It would have been easy for Joni to trade in her hope for despair or self-pity, and I’m sure she had her moments. But she chose to see God at work in the midst of her suffering, and out of that came character, hope, and a life lived with purpose and determination.

Deitrich Bonhoeffer was a German theologian who was outspoken against the Nazi regime of his country, so much so that he was imprisoned and later killed for it. His writings are some of the most profound I’ve ever read, because he wrote them with a cross on his back in the shape of a swastika. When he wrote about suffering, he was writing it from prison. And here’s what he said: “God is nearer to suffering than to happiness.”

Now think about that. We work hard to create a life of happiness and to avoid suffering, and yet Bonhoeffer, who should know something about both, says we’re moving in the wrong direction. We’re looking for God in suburbia, when we’re more likely to find him in the hospice ward or the county jail.

Does that mean if we want find Jesus we should go get arrested? I don’t recommend it. But to me it says three things. First, even the most perfect life endures suffering. Something is going to get every one of us at some point. Second, when that does happen, it’s not God’s fault; that’s simply a consequence of choosing to live. And third, God is there with us during our dark times, even if it feels like He is absent. God is nearer to suffering than to happiness.

I don’t think I have to tell you that, because deep down, you already know. We’ve all suffered, and I don’t mean a cold car seat, I mean real suffering, and deep down we know that what we experienced wasn’t the punishment of a capricious God; it was life being life. The danger we face is not the suffering itself, but letting those valleys rob us of the joy of life. Because regardless of the circumstances, there is still joy to be found in life, even if it’s found from a wheelchair, or in a smaller house, or with a less-than-perfect child. We can fight and complain and wonder what we did to deserve our lot in life, or we can accept it with humility and grace, knowing that there is a deeper joy to be found, and that joy is from God.

You know what? Maybe we have it all wrong. Maybe we live and suffer and die and that’s it. Life can certainly be cruel enough to make us wonder. But as Christians, we choose to believe something else is true. What’s the alternative? A life of bitterness, hopelessness, isolation. We believe something else is true. And that is the source of our hope, a light which no darkness can extinguish, thanks be to God.

QUESTIONS

1 – What do you think of Joni’s quote: “Life is supposed to be hard”?

2 – What about Bonhoeffer’s quote: “God is closer to suffering than to happiness”?

3 – What role, if any, does suffering have in a suburban spirituality?

Hi everyone! This week we continue our sermon series called “Death by Suburb” by looking at friendships. What does it mean to have true friends, and is that the same or different than the friendships we experience in the suburbs? I pray God blesses you this week! 

SCRIPTURE – John 15:9-17

“As the Father has loved me, so have I loved you. Now remain in my love. If you obey my commands, you will remain in my love, just as I have obeyed my Father’s commands and remain in his love. I have told you this so that my joy may be in you and that your joy may be complete. My command is this: Love each other as I have loved you. Greater love has no one than this, that he lay down his life for his friends. You are my friends if you do what I command. I no longer call you servants, because a servant does not know his master’s business. Instead, I have called you friends, for everything that I learned from my Father I have made known to you. You did not choose me, but I chose you and appointed you to go and bear fruit—fruit that will last. Then the Father will give you whatever you ask in my name. This is my command: Love each other.

 SERMON

Death by Suburb sermon series
#4 – Friendship: What Can You Do for Me?
October 7, 2007

I heard about an article recently in USA Today that reported the results of a study by the American Sociological Review. The researchers concluded that American adults have fewer friends than a generation ago, and increasingly fewer confidantes. Twenty-five percent of those surveyed said they had zero close friends. For those few who do have confidantes, 80% turn to family, and are less likely to count on friends from clubs, neighborhoods, or social and religious organizations. The report said the chief causes for these trends are longer working hours, less time for socializing, and living in the suburbs.

How could living in the suburbs work against friendships? That’s what we’re going to explore today as we continue our “Death by Suburb” sermon series, in which we’re looking at ways we can continue to grow spiritually in a suburban environment which often works against us.

One of the things I regret about moving so much when I was growing up was that I never really had a chance to make true childhood friends. My wife still gets together with women she knew in grade school, but I can barely remember the names of my elementary school friends.

I hope that’s going to be different for my girls. I’m already seeing that my daughter Sydney is developing close relationships with several of the girls in our neighborhood. I see kids like Brooke and Brianna so often that I’m beginning to wonder if we didn’t adopt them while I was away at a conference.

But like all friendships, these girls go through ups and downs. Syd will come in one day after school with a pitiful look on her face and announce that she and Brianna will never be friends again because of something Brianna said. Five minutes later, the doorbell rings – guess who – and Sydney is skipping out the door to go ride bikes with Brianna.

If only making and keeping friends were so easy when we get to be adults. On the contrary, I think once you reach a certain point in life it becomes extremely difficult to make new friends, because making friends takes an investment of time, and that’s a commodity we feel we have very little of. I can certainly relate to the fact that I put so much time into my job and my family that when it comes time for developing and nurturing friendships, I don’t have much to give.

And that, I believe is the crux of the issue of friendship in the suburbs. In the Public Speaking class I teach, we talk about a way of understanding human interaction called the Transactional Model of Communication. When you think of a transaction, you think of an exchange, like giving the cashier money in exchange for your purchase. In interpersonal communication, we are exchanging information and feedback. You give me a piece of information, I give you a quizzical look or a head nod or a yawn. A transaction has taken place.

That consumer metaphor for communication extends to our suburban friendships. We exist in transactional relationships, and so often our friendships are based upon a transactional model of relating. What do I have to offer the other person? And more importantly, what do they have to offer me?

I have seen this played out time and time again since moving to this area. Here’s an example: For many of us, our adult relationships are facilitated by our kids. If our kids are on the same sports team or in the same play group, we become friends through proximity and convenience. And those friendships work fine, as long as the kids are getting along and the team is winning. But as soon as it’s your kid who strikes out to end the game, or is teaching the others how to eat paste, the nature of those relationships changes. We no longer have value to the other person.

I believe we are conditioned to look for the benefits in all our relationships. Time is such a precious commodity that we don’t want to waste it on just anybody for just any reason. If I’m going to invest time in you, I want some return on that investment, I want to know it’s going to be worth my while to be your friend.

In suburban friendships, often that return is measured in the social capital a friend adds to our lives. It feels good to have dinner or attend a party or walk with someone in the “in” crowd. And you can’t convince me that “in” crowds only exists in high school. I would argue that we often look at friendships with an eye toward what value they can add to our lives. Your economic status or nice house build me up and make me feel good about myself, so I’ll be your friend.

But I would question whether such a transaction relationship is actually friendship. There’s a difference between being friendly and being friends. One psychologist defined a friendship as “two people who demonstrate an irrational commitment to each other’s well-being.” The key is an “irrational commitment,” meaning we’ll do stupid, crazy, sacrificial things for each other. How many people in our lives would we say are irrationally committed to us?

Let me go back to the study I mentioned at the beginning that talked about the lack of confidantes. In a meeting recently I heard a man tell about a prominent friend of his who committed suicide. The man said his friend’s suicide note still haunts him to this day, because in it his friend said, “In my darkest hour, I didn’t have anyone to call.” The man said he and his friend had many dinners together, played tennis together, attended baseball games together. He thought they were friends. But maybe they were just friendly, because when it became a matter of life and death, the friend had no one to call. We can’t use relationships to position ourselves in life, then be disappointed when those relationships disintegrate the minute life starts to fall apart.

For me, that gets at the heart of the issue here. As I said a couple weeks ago, we suburbanites work very hard at image management. We don’t want anyone to know that we don’t have it all together, so we go out of our way to put on the façade of a well-adjusted, normal existence, when we know deep down in our hearts that such an existence doesn’t exist.

We are so afraid that if we get too close that people will see our weaknesses, so we keep our distance. We remain friendly. The irony is that it is often those very weaknesses we share in common that bring us close together as friends. C.S. Lewis says friendship is born at the moment when one person says to another, “What? You too? I thought I was the only one!”

I wonder how many people in suburbia are lonely because they feel they are the only one. The only one unhappy in their marriage, the only one fighting an addiction, the only one still grieving a loss. Chances are there is a person out there right now who has absolutely nothing to offer us but loyal friendship, and it’s sad to think that we’ve been taught to believe that’s simply not enough to merit the investment of our time and our selves.

I’m so thankful God thinks differently than us. I imagine it would be easy for God to look at us and determine we have very little to offer Him. It would have been quite easy for God to leave us to our own devices instead of reaching out to us. But not only did he not turn away, he turned toward us by sending us his Son to die for us. That, my friends, is irrational commitment to our well-being. “Greater love has no one than this, that he lay down his life for his friends.”

The risk we take in living a transactional model of friendship is that we can apply that same understanding to our relationship with Christ. Instead of accepting the gift of grace we are offered, we can begin to ask, “What can you do for me?” If I give a pledge, if I serve on the Board, if I sing all the verses of the hymn on Sunday, what do I get in return? We begin to expect some kind of return on our investment, forgetting that we’ve already been paid back 100-fold through Christ’s death and resurrection.

A 12th-century monk said, “The best companion of friendship is reverence,” which means that a characteristic of a true friendship is that each person in it realizes how lucky they are simply to be the other person’s friend. There is an indescribable joy in being with someone with whom you don’t feel compelled to add value. True friends are accepted, not for the value of what they add, but for the value of who they are. After all, that’s how we are accepted by our God.

I wonder who would be our friends – and who would no longer be our friends – if we defined our friendships that way? In the Old Testament, after Job’s life falls apart around him, his three friends come to pick him apart, telling him all the things he did wrong to bring on this disaster. I wonder, if our lives fall apart, who’ll be there to pick us apart, and who’ll be there to help us pick up the pieces? I wonder, if it came right down to it, if we’d have someone to call? It starts with the words of the Bible: “And all who call on the name of the Lord will be saved.” Are we investing the time needed to cultivate a true friendships with Jesus, or are we just being friendly? May our friendship with Jesus continue to grow deeper and be reflected in our friendships with each other.

QUESTIONS

1 – Who do you consider your closest friend?

2 – How would you differentiate between “being friendly” and “being friends”?

3 – What is the hardest part about making new friends?