08.25.08
This Week’s Sermon – Sink or Swim
This week I finished out our Olympic-themed sermons by looking at Peter’s attempt to walk on water. He could have used a few swimming lessons. Have a blessed week!
SCRIPTURE – Matthew 14:22-33
Immediately Jesus made the disciples get into the boat and go on ahead of him to the other side, while he dismissed the crowd. After he had dismissed them, he went up on a mountainside by himself to pray. When evening came, he was there alone, but the boat was already a considerable distance from land, buffeted by the waves because the wind was against it. During the fourth watch of the night Jesus went out to them, walking on the lake. When the disciples saw him walking on the lake, they were terrified. “It’s a ghost,” they said, and cried out in fear. But Jesus immediately said to them: “Take courage! It is I. Don’t be afraid.” “Lord, if it’s you,” Peter replied, “tell me to come to you on the water.” “Come,” he said. Then Peter got down out of the boat, walked on the water and came toward Jesus. But when he saw the wind, he was afraid and, beginning to sink, cried out, “Lord, save me!” Immediately Jesus reached out his hand and caught him. “You of little faith,” he said, “why did you doubt?” And when they climbed into the boat, the wind died down. Then those who were in the boat worshiped him, saying, “Truly you are the Son of God.”
SERMON
Sink or Swim
Matthew 14:22-33
August 21, 2008
So, have you heard of this guy Michael Phelps? Word is he’s pretty good. In fact, at my high school reunion last Saturday, about 15 of us snuck out of the reunion and into the hotel jazz bar to watch his final race. I’m not sure the musicians appreciated the chants of “USA!” but it didn’t matter. One of my classmates said Phelps broke so many records he wondered if the pool water had steroids in it. That race was a history-making moment.
But it almost didn’t happen, because Michael Phelps almost never got in the pool. I read in his biography that he was often teased because of his big ears, had to deal with his parents’ broken marriage, and was diagnosed with attention deficit hyperactivity disorder. Not everyone who faces those kinds of challenges is able to move past them and succeed. Every human story is the struggle between faith and fear.
We continue our Olympic theme that was started a couple weeks ago when I preached about running and continue last week when Michael (Swartzentruber, not Phelps) talked about being spiritual weightlifters. Today, we’re going to look at how we can become spiritual Olympians as swimmers, so put on your goggles and your Speedos and let’s get in the pool. OK, maybe just your goggles.
Like Michael Phelps, Peter knows a bit about challenges. As one of Jesus’ disciples, he was often the spokesperson for Jesus’ followers, taking the lead on proclaiming Christ as the messiah. But for every one of his swan dives there was a belly flop, like when he tried to set Jesus’ agenda for him or when he pledged his allegiance to Jesus then denied knowing three times.
Our story today captures an image of the best and worst of Peter. After feeding the 5,000, Jesus sends the disciples away in a boat, hoping to get a little alone time with God. Matthew tells us the disciples are stuck out in the middle of the Sea of Galilee during the fourth watch of the night, which would have been between 3 and 6 a.m. That means the disciples had been rowing and bailing for up to nine hours, and had yet to make it across the sea. Why? Because the wind was against them. As Chicago residents, we know what that means, don’t we? Anyone who’s ever thrown up a shovelful of snow only to have it blown back in their faces knows what it’s like to have the wind against them. You ever had that feeling, like the wind was against you? You work and work and work and get nowhere, you take one step forward and are blown two steps back.
So the disciples are battling the wind and the storm and the sea. There’s biblical significance in this battle. In the Bible, water is the dwelling place of all the evil forces against us, and it is water that God repeatedly conquers. In the beginning of Genesis, God’s Spirit hovered over the waters and brought order out of the chaos. When Moses and the Israelites are making their escape, God parts the waters of the Red Sea. And in our story, as the disciples battle the raging storm, Jesus comes to them, walking on the water, stepping on the evil, saying to them, “Take heart, it is I, don’t be afraid.”
Did you notice that in Matthew’s version of the story, Jesus doesn’t immediately calm the storm? First, while the wind is howling and the waves are crashing, he says, “Don’t be afraid.” In the midst of stormy circumstances, he asks for trust. Wouldn’t it have been easier just to make everything OK? Maybe, but he knew this would not be the last storm the disciples faced. After he was gone, as they resumed their profession as fishermen, there would be more storms. Sometimes Jesus calms the storms, but sometimes Jesus calms us in the midst of the storms. I would rather learn from Jesus how to make it through the storms than for him to condition me to expect calm waters all the time, because there will always be storms in our lives, won’t there?
Peter, always the most impulsive of the disciples, immediately asks to come to Jesus on the water. You may see this as either incredibly bold or incredibly stupid. It’s certainly not very practical. Besides Jesus, I’ve only known one other person who could walk on water, and that was my father when he saw a snake in his canoe. Dad wasn’t concerned about the practicality of jumping out of the canoe, but I can guarantee his ankles didn’t even get wet before he hit the shore. Peter wasn’t concerned about practicalities, either. My dad wanted to be where the snake wasn’t; Peter simply wanted to be where Jesus was. He wanted to be with his Savior. The water is where Jesus was, not in the boat. So Peter steps out onto the water and begins to walk toward Jesus.
Now, there are two kinds of people in this world: sinkers and floaters. My Uncle Pete was a floater. He could lie on his back all day in his swimming pool, arms outstretched, floating on the top of the water. I tried to do that, but I’m a sinker. I learned to swim by flailing my arms and legs until I either made it to the other side of the pool or splashed all the water out of it. But I never could float like Uncle Pete. When I tried, I always ended up at the bottom of the pool, which I found out wasn’t nearly as comfortable as the top.
Peter, as we learn in this story, is also a sinker. You know he floated for a second, right on top of the water. For a moment he was able to block out the howling winds around him and focus on Jesus and his presence. But just as quickly, he remembered the storm, he remembered the wind, he remembered that he was only human and couldn’t actually walk on water, and he began to sink.
Now, some may look at this story and say that Peter failed, that his faith wasn’t strong enough. “You know, if he had just kept his eye on Jesus, if he had just had more faith, he would have succeeded.” It’s that fear of failure that can keep us from taking steps to grow our own faith, and fear is a strong motivating factor in our lives. Fred Craddock points out that so much of the things we think and do are motivated by fear. Jealousy is the fear of the loss of love. Greed is the fear of insecurity. Cheating is a fear of failure. Lying is a fear of punishment. Fear, fear, fear.
And that’s true in our spiritual lives, as well. What if I start reading the Bible but don’t understand it? What if I try to pray every day but forget every once in awhile? What if I serve at church but don’t do well? What if I join the choir but miss a few notes? Fear, fear, fear. Sometimes it’s easier just to stay in the boat, isn’t it?
Fear of failure is a strong deterrent, isn’t it? It puts a tight grip on us, controls us, keeps us from stepping out. No one likes to be a failure. But failure is not an event; it’s a judgment about an event. And we control that judgment. John Ortberg tells the story that before Jonas Salk developed a vaccine for polio that finally worked, he tried two hundred unsuccessful ones. Somebody asked him, “How did it feel to fail 200 times?” Salk said, “I didn’t fail 200 times. I just discovered 200 ways not to vaccinate for polio.” Failure is how to choose to see something.
Some people would rather stay in the boat than meet Jesus out on the water. Ortberg calls those kinds of people Boat Potatoes. What if Big Ears Phelps had been a Boat Potato? What if he had listened to those kids who teased him? Sure, it’s risky out there on the water, but it’s just as risky to stay in the boat, because a gift that is not being used will soon atrophy and lose all its strength. If you never take the risk to leave the boat, you’ll never experience the glorious joy of walking on water. Courage is not the absence of fear. Courage assumes fear but acts anyway.
When we contemplate taking the risk to grow and strengthen our faith, the worst failure is not to sink in the waves. The worst failure is never getting out of the boat. Jesus is not in the boat. Jesus is out on the water. To try and succeed, that is glorious. To try and not succeed, that is painful. But it is not failure. Failure is not trying at all.
And if we do try and not succeed, then by the grace of God we’re given a second opportunity. What happened to Peter when he started to sink? Did he go under a few times? Did he become shark food? No. He cried out, “Lord, save me!” And Christ reached out his hand and pulled Peter up to safety.
Peter knew he couldn’t walk on water. Peter knew he would sink as soon as he left the safety of the boat. So why step out? Why take the risk? First of all, because all of life is a risk, isn’t it? If we’re going to live the life God calls us to live, we are going to have to take risks. Getting up in the morning is a risk. Driving a car is a risk. Eating at a restaurant is a risk. Life is a risk. The question is: do we face those risks with fear or with trust? I believe Peter chose trust he knew that with Christ’s help, he could do the impossible, he could walk on water and he trusted that if he began to sink, Christ would be there.
Practicing our faith doesn’t mean we’ll win eight gold medals but it does mean that we choose to believe that God is with us during the storms, and that we choose to live our lives free from fear. Yes, we will doubt. Yes, we may sink at times. But by choosing faith over fear, we are daring to put our trust in the God who stills all storms, the God who calls us out of the boat and into the risky life of faith put into action each and every day. It is our choice to dare to walk on water, or to just stay in the boat?
08.15.08
Preaching to many faiths
I had the wonderful experience of preaching last night at an interfaith service at a local retirement community called Sedgebrook. The group of 45-50 people was made up of Jews, Christians, and at least one Daoist. I’d never preached in this kind of setting and I was nervous about both holding true to my identity as a Christian and respecting the lived experiences and beliefs of the congregation. I hope I was able to do both.
The readings were from Genesis (part of the Joseph story), Psalm 133, Paul’s words about not judging others, and a Daoist reading. I hope to do it again soon. Here’s the sermon:
I want to thank Janna (Larsen, the Pastoral Ministries Manager at Sedgebrook) for inviting me to be a part of this worship service tonight, and to thank all of you for welcoming me into your house this evening. I have not preached at an interfaith service before, so this is exciting for me. When Janna and I were talking last week about what I might share tonight, she said it might be interesting to begin by answering the question, “Why would a Christian minister want to preach at an interfaith service?”
That’s actually a very good question, so I would start by answering it this way, which is also a bit of a disclaimer. I’m not here tonight as a Christian minister. That’s what I am, of course, but that’s not necessarily what defines me tonight. I teach a public speaking class at CLC, and on the first night of class I tell my students what I do for a living. If they weren’t nervous before, they sure are when I do that. So to set their mind at ease, I tell them, “Just because I’m a minister doesn’t mean you have to worry. I’m not trying to convert you and if you fail a speech you won’t go to Hell.”
I want to say something similar to you as a way of entering into our time together. I’m not here to convert anyone. Christians have done enough damage down through history in the name of faith; I don’t want to add to that ugly legacy. And the way I see it, if I should be trying to bring anyone into a life of faith, it shouldn’t be somebody who already has one. There are enough people out there who have no faith to keep all of us busy for awhile without going after each other. So I’m not here as a Christian minister; instead, I’m here as a child of God, the Creator, the Divine, looking to have a conversation with other children. I may not have any answers, but I sure do have a lot of questions, so maybe we can ask our questions together and see where that leads us.
I also need to give you some autobiographical data to help you understand where I’m coming from tonight and why being with you is exciting for me. I grew up in the Louisville, Ky., area, actually across the Ohio River in Southern Indiana. It’s an area know as “Kentuckiana,” which sounds a lot better than “Indyucky.” It pains me to let you know that organizations like the Ku Klux Klan are still alive and well in the area where I grew up, so you can imagine the kind of diversity that existed in my hometown. An interfaith marriage meant that the husband rooted for the University of Kentucky and the wife rooted for Indiana University. As far as I can remember there were no temples, no mosques, and anyone who wasn’t Caucasian and Christian kept a low profile.
So didn’t grow up with much of an understanding of other faiths. I went to seminary in Indianapolis and my horizons were broadened a little, but it wasn’t until I moved to this area that I truly began to understand the diversity of God’s creation. Talk about Joseph in Egypt! I came from a place where everyone pretty much looked and thought the same to North Shore Chicago, where within in our church family we have African-American, Chinese, Russian and Indian families, not to mention several interfaith marriages.
To paraphrase Joseph, I believe God sent me here. I’m still figuring out all the details, but I’m convinced that my being here is a part of God’s plan for me, and a part of that plan is to expanding my understanding of what it means to be a person of faith. Tonight’s Daoist reading is the first one I’ve ever heard, and it was beautiful – and, dare I say, had a lot in common with some things you would read in the Hebrew Scriptures and the New Testament. “Amidst the rush of worldly comings and goings, observe how endings become beginnings.” God says through the prophet Isaiah to the Israelites who were experiencing difficult endings, “Behold, I am doing a new thing!” As a Christian, my whole faith is based on an ending on a cross that became a beginning at the empty tomb.
There is so much more that unites us than there is that divides us, isn’t there? Through the clergy association I’ve had the privilege of getting to know a few local rabbis and to break bread with them on a few occasions. And you know what I discovered? They’re just like me, only Jewish! They struggle with raising their kids and leading their congregations and eating healthy in a hectic vocation. So many times our world wants to label people and lump them into a group so they can be demonized or ostracized. But when we connect with each other on a human level. We realize that we were created to be together, not apart.
That became clearer to me when I was thinking back on my seminary experience. One of the things I learned in seminary was how much of our Christian heritage is based upon Jewish understand. I mean, the first half of our primary textbook is Jewish! Unfortunately we tend to call it the “Old Testament,” as if it no longer has anything to contribute. But I think we could make the argument that just because something is “old” doesn’t mean it doesn’t have something to contribute.
I need to inject a bit more autobiography here for the direction I’m going to make sense. My original training was as a journalist and I developed both a love for language and a stubbornness for its correct use. I’m a card-carrying member of the grammar police. Most people have their favorite sports team or restaurant; I have my favorite punctuation mark (the semicolon). When I’m driving and I see a sign that says “Homegrown apple’s for sale,” with “apples” spelled “a-p-p-l-e-‘-s” I about run off the road. I could see someone emailing me, “Your sermons are the work of a two bit shyster,” and me responding, “How dare you write such a thing!! Don’t you know ‘two-bit’ should be hyphenated!?!”
The punctuation we choose to use is important. A panda walks into a restaurant, sits down and orders a sandwich. After he finishes eating the sandwich, the panda pulls out a gun and shoots the waiter, and then stands up to go. “Hey!” shouts the manager. “Where are you going? You just shot my waiter and you didn’t pay for your sandwich!” The panda yells back at the manager, “Hey man, I am a PANDA! Look it up!” The manager opens his dictionary and sees the following definition for panda: “A tree-dwelling marsupial of Asian origin, characterized by distinct black and white coloring. Eats shoots and leaves.”
How we choose to use our punctuation is important, and here’s where I’m going with this. In our seminary history classes, when talking about the development of our faith, we would refer to our “Judeo-Christian heritage.” Notice the very important punctuation mark here. The hyphen. That little slice of grammar heaven that holds things together. You may never think about this, but we if we called it our “Judeo/Christian heritage”? The slash divides and separates, the hyphen links and joins. It works for other alliances, like “Daoist-Christian” or “Islamic-Judaic.” It works for ethnicities, like “Italian-American.” Even married folks looking to hold onto both aspects of their identity do so by hyphenating their names.
So here’s the point I’d like to throw out to you. Whether or not you believe in the Devil, I’m going to use that name as a personification of evil and ask that you bear with me. The Devil is in the slash, but God is in the hyphen. There are folks, and some of them are religious folks, who want to put a slash between Jews and Christians and Muslims and Buddhists and Daoists and everyone else who doesn’t believe what they believe. But didn’t our Christian scripture tonight say, “You have no excuse, whoever you are, when you judge others.” God is not in the slash.
God is in the hyphen, and we are called to live in the hyphen. We are called to live in that place that holds us together. We don’t lose sight of who we are; the Italian-American is still Italian. But we also acknowledge that there are other ways of living and believing that connect us to each other, regardless of what we bring to the table. And even if I don’t believe what they believe, I respect them as believers.
Of course, this extends well beyond our religious connections. We were created as unique beings, and sometimes we get so caught up in that fact that we lose sight of our similarities. We divide along the lines of age, socioeconomic class, vocation, geographical location, and on and on. I dare say that if we looked at each other and first saw what unites us instead of what divides us, this world would be far different place, and one in which I’d feel a lot better about leaving to my children and their children.
The psalmist says, “Oh how good and pleasant it is when we live together in unity, for there the Lord has ordained the blessing.” That’s living in the hyphen, the blessed place of God. Amen.
08.13.08
This Week’s Sermon – Running Our Race
In the true Olympic spirit, the next three sermons will be focused on athletic achievements – from a spiritual perspective. This week, we look at Paul and the Hebrews author’s exhortation to run our race. Have a blessed week!
SCRIPTURE – 1 Corinthians 9:24-27 – Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one gets the prize? Run in such a way as to get the prize. Everyone who competes in the games goes into strict training. They do it to get a crown that will not last; but we do it to get a crown that will last forever. Therefore I do not run like a man running aimlessly; I do not fight like a man beating the air. No, I beat my body and make it my slave so that after I have preached to others, I myself will not be disqualified for the prize.
Hebrews 12:1-3 – 1Therefore, 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. Consider him who endured such opposition from sinful men, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart.
SERMON
Running Our Race
Heb. 12:1-3
Aug. 10, 2008
Have you been watching any of the Olympic Games? Those opening ceremonies were pretty amazing. I had a guy tell me yesterday that we would never want to go to war with a country that organized. Groups of 2008 people moving in perfect synchronicity. Leigh and I can’t get our girls to stand still for a photo. And the precision and discipline will only be more evident as the athletes start to compete.
I always thought I would be an Olympic athlete. Growing up I was pretty fast, so I dreamed that I might one day stand on the podium accepting the gold medal in the 100-meter dash while the loudspeaker played “The Star Spangled Banner.”
Until my girlfriend Candace challenged me to a race. I was 12 at the time. I had a well-developed sense of chivalry, but not of women’s equality. I didn’t want to embarrass her in front of our friends, so when the race started, I decided to take it easy on her. The further she got ahead of me, the more I began to wonder if I shouldn’t step it up a notch. I started to really worry when she lapped me. It was the tortoise and the hare story without the surprise ending. She absolutely toasted me. My Olympic dreams were crushed.
In hindsight, that’s OK, because I’m not sure I have what it takes to be an Olympic athlete. Can you imagine the amount of focus and dedication it takes to become one of the greatest in the world at your sport? Think about the amount of time that Michael Phelps has spent in the pool (talk about pruny fingers!) or Taylor Phinney has spent on his bicycle or Bridget Sloane has spent working on her gymnastics routine. Every athlete in Beijing has spent countless hours working on their skills to bring them to this pinnacle of their athletic career. Only through tireless dedication and countless hours have they become the best in the world.
The fact is, to become good at anything takes practice, and that includes having faith. We sometimes talk about faith as a one-time event, like once you have it you never need to do anything else. But that’s like saying once you buy a car, you never need to take care of it anymore. If you’re going to use something often, even on a daily basis, you have to take care of it, feed it fuel, give it a checkup every once in awhile, so that it’s ready to perform when the road gets rough. Having a living, breathing, active faith takes practice, it requires us to build up our spiritual muscles and hone our God-given skills. We need to continually dedicate ourselves to practicing our faith in order to become spiritual Olympians.
Paul knows a little about this dedication and discipline. In our first reading today, he uses a running analogy to talk about a life of faith. I’m thankful Paul doesn’t emphasize speed as an important quality in our race of faith. American Tyson Gay once ran the 100 meters is 9.77 seconds. Sometimes it takes me 9.77 seconds to get up off the couch. And when I do get the gumption to actually use our treadmill, it only takes a few minutes of running before my body gives out, otherwise known as bonking.
But our race of faith is not based on speed; as the author of Hebrews says, it’s based on perseverance, a word that has as much importance for us as it did for the original readers of this letter. The Hebrews were struggling in their faith, not sure or not if this character Jesus was truly the messiah, not sure what that meant for their lives if he was. Some were considering abandoning their new-found Christian faith and returning to Judaism or paganism; others were facing serious persecution because of their beliefs.
But the author of Hebrews has a message to speak to them: “Keep running.” Perseverance. He shows them the Spiritual Hall of Fame – Noah, Abraham, Jacob, Moses – and says that if they can run their race, we can run ours. They surround us now as a great cloud of witnesses, cheering us on to the finish line. We’re not called to finish first or fastest; we’re just called to finish faithfully.
But finish faithfully is not easy, is it? Living this life of faith can be a challenge, especially when things happen that cause us to doubt our beliefs or question God’s goodness. Hebrews says, “throw off everything that hinders and the sin that entangles” and run the race set before us. But sometimes we feel so weighed down. The other night at our Elders meeting we spent as much time talking about the burdens in our own lives as we did doing the business of the Elders. Aging parents, needy relatives, declining health. Sometimes life is weight that can keep us from walking, much less running.
I don’t know if you remember this from the Athens Olympics four years ago, but one of the most bizarre things happened during the marathon. Vanderlei de Lima of Brazil was leading the race at the 22-mile marker when he was attacked and forced off the road by a lunatic in a red kilt – a former clergyman, no less! To me, that is what happens to us sometimes in our race. We’re running along just fine when we’re suddenly surprised or attacked by something that threatens to slow us down or knock us off course. So often we get entangled in something that’s keeping us from running our race.
Sometimes these are things of our own doing, bad choices we make, sins we commit. On the old Saturday Night Live there was a commercial spoof of Wheaties. In it, John Belushi, not a small man, was shown in a track outfit winning sprint after sprint. And then we see him at the breakfast table, smoking a cigarette and eating of bowl of his “secret training ingredient”: little chocolate donuts, the breakfast of champions. How often do we weigh ourselves down with bad decisions that keep us from running our race?
Other things that weigh us down are things out of our control, things like deaths and illnesses, job losses or broken relationships. And these things can be so devastating, so demoralizing, that we just don’t feel like running anymore. And in these dark times, we are tempted to look at other people’s lives, at how blessed they are, at how unentangled they seem to be, and we wonder, “Why isn’t that my race?”
But as we all know, everyone has baggage. Everyone. Hebrews tells us that the race we run has been marked out especially for us. This is the race we’ve been given to run. It may not be the perfect race, it may not be the smoothest track, but this is our race. I didn’t want my race to include some of the things it does, but I can’t change it. All I can do is run it the best I can with what I’ve been given.
One of the Olympic images that will always stand out in my mind is a women’s sprint during the Athens Olympics. It was one of the early heats, and there was a female runner from Afghanistan, quite an amazing thing when you think about it. She was in full dress, even had a head covering on when she ran. She wasn’t fast. She didn’t win. But she ran her race. And she finished.
For us Christians, the strength to run our race comes not only from the cloud of witnesses that has come before us, but from Christ, who has gone ahead of us, blazing a trail and clearing the path. “The Message” translates Hebrews 12:2-3 this way: “Keep your eyes on Jesus, who both began and finished this race we’re in. Study how he did it. Because he never lost sight of where he was headed – that exhilarating finish in and with God – he could put up with anything along the way: cross, shame, whatever. And now he’s there, in the place of honor, right alongside God. When you find yourselves flagging in your faith, go over that story again, item by item, that long litany of hostility he plowed through. That will shoot adrenaline into your souls!”
You think you have it tough? Then you probably do. There may not be a lot of people who can understand how you feel. But Jesus can, because he’s been through it. If you are facing a challenge, Jesus already faced it, took it to the cross, and beat it. If you feel that no one else knows what it’s like, Jesus knows. He’s been there and he is there now, right beside you.
Vanderlei de Lima didn’t give up. Instead of letting his attacker ruin his race, he got back up and kept running. Although now in third place instead of first, he entered the stadium with his fists in the air, running with both arms extended up like an excited little kid. When asked why he was filled with such joy, considering he had been robbed of the gold medal, he said, “Most athletes never have this moment. I was able to medal for myself and my country. I’m happy with my medal. It may be bronze, but it means gold.”
When we run our race, no matter whether we finish with a flourish or merely limp across the line, it means gold, because we are following in the steps of Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith. I know it gets scary sometimes, but don’t lose heart. Paul says in Romans, And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.” May the belief that Christ completed the race first and the promise that we have been called to run ours be the adrenaline for our souls that keeps us running and running and running.
08.05.08
This Week’s Sermon – The God of Abundance
Sorry I’ve been gone for so long. With a combination of vacation and our associate pastor’s departure, I haven’t preached in three weeks. I know that makes some people very happy! 
Here’s this week’s sermon. Have a great week!
SCRIPTURE – Matthew 14:13-21
When Jesus heard what had happened, he withdrew by boat privately to a solitary place. Hearing of this, the crowds followed him on foot from the towns. When Jesus landed and saw a large crowd, he had compassion on them and healed their sick. As evening approached, the disciples came to him and said, “This is a remote place, and it’s already getting late. Send the crowds away, so they can go to the villages and buy themselves some food.” Jesus replied, “They do not need to go away. You give them something to eat.” ”We have here only fiveloaves of bread and two fish,” they answered. ”Bring them here to me,” he said. And he directed the people to sit down on the grass. Taking the five loaves and the two fish and looking up to heaven, he gavethanks and broke the loaves. Then he gave them to the disciples, and the disciples gave them to the people. They all ate and were satisfied, and the disciples picked up twelve basketfuls of pieces that were left over. The number of those who ate was about five thousand men, besides women and children.
SERMON
The God of Abundance
Matthew 14:13-21
August 3, 2008
One of the amazing things about the Bible is the way the authors tell a story, sometimes telling the same story in different ways. For example, we actually have four accounts of the life of Jesus, told by two eyewitnesses (Matthew and John), a faithful follower (Mark), and a physician looking to set the record straight (Luke). Because of these diverse writers, each gospel is told from its own perspective, and each differs significantly from the others.
In fact, did you know that only one of Jesus’ miracles is told in all four gospels? It’s not the calming of the sea or raising Lazarus from the dead or changing water in to wine. It’s the feeding of the 5,000. To me, that lends credence to the authenticity of this miracle. If one eyewitness tells me they saw an elephant loose in Lincolnshire, I’d smile and quickly get as far away from them as possible. But if four people tell me they saw it, I’d be more inclined to believe it and to not eat any peanuts that day.
But that doesn’t make the story any easier to explain, does it? As humans, we like problems we can solve and occurrences we can decipher, and this story from Matthew defies description. Some people have tried to rationalize it by saying that Jesus only gave each person a pinch of bread, feeding them spiritually rather than physically. Others say that when the disciples began sharing their food, the crowd, who had been hiding the food they brought, got it out and began sharing, as well. But both of those theories diminish the power of what happens here. Five loaves and two fish are turned into feast.
I can’t explain this miracle. But I’ve experienced it, in fact several times. Growing up, every Christmas morning after we opened presents, my mom and I would join the rest of the family at my grandfather’s house for breakfast. Now PawPaw had a very small shotgun kitchen, barely enough room for more than two people at a time. When we got to his house, I would run to the kitchen to see how things were going. On the counter would be a small bowl of batter, a carton of eggs, maybe a potato or two, and then PawPaw would shoo me out of the kitchen while he worked.
About a half hour later, he would call us all into the dining room, where he had turned that bowl of batter and those few potatoes into biscuits and sausage gravy, scrambled eggs, bacon, hash browns and fried potatoes, buttered toast, pancakes and syrup. The more we ate, the more food appeared from that little kitchen. When we were all finished, there were enough leftovers to feed Santa and all his reindeer. We would sit back, pat our satisfied bellies, and marvel at how delicious breakfast was.
Now, as an adult, I know this wasn’t a miracle. It doesn’t diminish the meaning of the memory, but I know there was more food stored in the refrigerator and the pantry. But I still don’t know how Jesus did it. I’ve tried to make sense of this story several ways, but it just doesn’t fit into any of the math I learned in school. I’ve applied my trigonometry, my calculus, even my algebra, and nothing fits. I remember the old equations I would do for homework. If 2 times X equals 4, what was X? The answer, if I remember correctly, was 2. But that doesn’t work here. Two fish and five loaves times Jesus equals everyone being satisfied and 12 baskets left over.
We can try to explain it a hundred different ways, but the point of a miracle is that it defies explanation. Sometimes faith defies explanation. Our lives get rudely interrupted by some crisis or detour, and we know we should have faith, but we can’t quite figure out the equation. When everything that seems real is falling apart, when we are hungry for good health or stability or things to go our way, it’s hard to be convinced that Jesus will feed you. There comes a point where our rational, analytical understanding stops, but because we’re human, we still want answers, even when there are none.
I imagine if I were one of the disciples on that day, I would have had the same concerns they did. After all, Jesus wasn’t considering the reality of the situation. In the passage just before this one, we learn of the execution of John the Baptist by King Herod. When Jesus learns about the death of his close friend and cousin, Matthew says, “He withdrew by boat privately to a solitary place.” As you would expect, he wanted to be alone. But the crowds had no respect for Jesus’ mourning. So they followed him, and Jesus, seeing the crowd, has compassion on them and restarts his work of healing.
As the day goes on, it’s obvious that Jesus isn’t paying attention to the details, because the time is getting late and Jesus hasn’t even considered how all these people are going to get their supper. The disciples, being the rational, realistic bunch they are, bring this point up to Jesus, and he says, “You give them something to eat.” Talk about something not computing! Jesus obviously hadn’t learned his multiplication tables yet. Doesn’t he know we only have five loaves and two fish?
You know, I have to stop and get mad at the disciples for a minute. I understand they are frustrated at Jesus, I know they are tired and hungry, too, but there’s no need to cuss and use profanity like that. Did you hear it? That word, “only.” That’s a four-letter word when it comes to faith. I wonder how often we use that word. “I only have a few minutes.” “I’ve only opened my Bible a few times.” “I only know a little about my faith.” The disciples use that bad word as an excuse, as if to say, “Well, if that’s all we have then the equation is settled.”
Do they not know about the Great Mathematician standing in front of them? Do we not realize that we worship a God who has rewritten the multiplication tables? Our God turns “only” into abundance. Our God takes what we have, no matter how small, and turns it into something we can share. Our God says, “You give what you have and let me worry about the distribution issues.”
We all come to this place today with concerns, like we shared during our prayer time. Each of us has something in our lives that is weighing us down. Maybe it’s a health issue or a financial issue. Maybe we’re worried about an aging parent or a straying child. Now, let me ask you this: Do you have any hope in that situation? Are you completely hopeless, or do you see the possibility for a positive outcome? Even if you are 99% sure things will not go well, there’s still that 1%.
And that’s all God needs. “You give what you have and let me take care of the rest.” But God, it’s only a glimmer of hope. Whoops! There’s that word again, “only.” If we believe in a God without limits who can turn a small snack into a banquet feast, why would we limit our understanding of what God can do in our lives? We often choose to live with a mentality of scarcity instead of a mentality of abundance.
Here’s the thing. In order for God’s math to work in our lives, we haveto be willing to give some things over. Jesus couldn’t have multiplied the bread and fish had they not been given into his hands to bless, break, and share. The disciples could have hoarded what they had, which would have ensured two things: (1) they would have had something to eat, and (2) no one else would have. I can’t guarantee that God will always fix things the way we want them. But I can guarantee that God can’t work with what we’re not willing to give.
God doesn’t multiply things in our lives so we can hoard them; they are to be shared, including the hope we have. By giving away what little they had, the disciples were given back 12 times as much. You know that thing I you are worried about? Someone else is worried about it, too, probably someone you care about. When God multiplies our hope it is contagious, and those around us feed off our faith in the midst of dark times.
You’ve probably read the true story about the Christian restaurant owner named Jerry who was shot during an attempted robbery. His wounds were deep and required 18 hours of surgery. When telling the story to a friend, Jerry said as he lay bleeding on the floor of his restaurant he realized he had a choice: he could choose to live or choose to die. When he got to the hospital and saw the looks on the nurses’ faces, he knew he was in trouble. So when one nurse asked him if he was allergic to anything, he said, “Yeah, bullets!” Then he said, “I am choosing to live. Operate on me as if I’m alive, not dead.”
You might think that Jerry only had a slim chance of survival. You may think you only have a little bit to share with others. You could conclude there’s only a little hope of your situation working out well. But don’t forget why you are here today. We believe in a God who sent us Jesus Christ to show us how much God loves us. We may not always understand what that means, we may not always be able to explain it, but when we look at the abundance in our lives, we realize that with our God, there’s no such thing as “only.”
08.04.08
Praying Out Loud
I’ve never been a quiet person, which may explain why I struggled in seminary with the class on spiritual formation. I believe there’s a bias in spiritual development toward the introverts, people who can sit still for long periods of time for prayer or meditation. That’s not me; I like movement, and mental stimulation and engaging conversations. So I’ve had a hard time learning how to grow spiritually without using the traditional introvert models.
I was thrilled to find a book called “Spirituality for Extroverts” by Nancy Reeves. Reeves, a psychologist and spiritual director, is also an extrovert, and also had a difficult time finding resources on how to feed her extrovert spirituality. So she wrote a book about it.
Reeves has several suggestions for how people can grow their faith in ways that are more outwardly focused. Some of those include:
Singing – I love to sing. I always have. I’m not making any claims about the quality of what comes out, but I find singing to be a wonderful way to praise God and connect with my own spirituality. Find a good Christian or worship CD, learn the songs you like, and then add your own voice to the mix. I find myself humming a Christian song at various points during the day, and the lyrics to that song become my prayer.
Spiritual Friendships – When we have a God question or a faith struggle, to whom do we turn? Those conversations are spiritual practices, and our own soul can be nurtured by the dialogue that occurs. I have a close circle of people who provide with soul sustenance and help me grow as a pastor and Christian simply by being a part of my life.
Moving Prayer – We may think prayer has to be a hands-folded, head-bowed experience, but there are really as many ways to pray as there are people praying. Walking in nature is a great way to connect with God (provided you are not chasing around a golf ball and cursing!). Walking is not only good for our God-given bodies, but can help us escape the demands of our lives. What about walking from room to room in your house and praying for the daily activities that take place there?
Reading and Writing – While these activities don’t always involve others, they are still ways of interacting beyond yourself. I am an avid reader and enjoy my time with a good spiritual book, which for me becomes a conversation with the author. Similarly, writing for me is a way of articulating my thoughts and feelings about God and my own faith.
Exercise – While Reeves doesn’t specifically list exercise as a spiritual discipline, I have found it to be that for me. When I exercise with others (like playing basketball), I am nurturing my friendships with other Christians. When I exercise alone (like on the treadmill), I can use that time to pray or listen to Christian music. And the commitment and discipline of an exercise routine is good practice for us as we seek to live committed, disciplined lives for God.
As with any spiritual growth, there needs to be a balance between the inward and the outward. In my relationship with God, I often times spend too much time talking and not enough time listening. But I’ve also found that there are times when I need to be active in order to better connect with God. I’m thankful for Reeves’ book, which lets me know that extroversion and spirituality aren’t mutually exclusive.
The Poisonwood Bible by Barbara Kingsolver
