What do YOU want to hear on Easter Sunday?

This post is thank to a friend of mine (Paul Moore) who asked on Facebook, "Could you help me out? In ten words or less, what do you think a person (who attends worship less than once a month) is looking for in Easter worship?"

 

Some of the answers, not including my own........

"A new beginning, a fresh start." 

"God's love is for everyone--no matter what." 

"Favorite songs."

"Something new. Something relevant. Something hopeful. Something real."

"Candy."

"To feel welcomed."

"To meet (his/her) obligations" because "it's tradition" to attend on Easter Sunday.

 

I'm not very good with answers in ten words or less. And when I started writing I was trending towards the cynical answer--more along the lines of the last one I shared above than the "fresh start, new beginnings." Anyway, for what it's worth, here's my full answer to the question, "What's that guy I haven't seen since Christmas looking for in Easter worship?  

 

Entering the church, bright and beautiful and smelling like lilies, and I hope for just a few simple things. I hope we won't be singing any songs I don't know. I hope it doesn't go over an hour. I hope it will be stress-free and happy. I don't want to have to think to much--or, worse yet, FEEL anything! I want to experience a good show. At least worth my time and the $20 I will generously put in the plate. 

 

And the rest of this stuff I might not think about consciously, but the truth is...... 

 

I really want to hear that it's totally OK if I only attend once a quarter or once a year, that it's OK that I only pray when someone's sick and almost never to give thanks, unless, of course, it's thanks "that I don't live like those other people do." And I want to hear that it's OK that I expect not to be challenged. Because I really don't want to be "free indeed" vs. being enslaved to the gods of my own choosing. Because I really kinda like those gods (a lot). Because, after all, they're the gods I've chosen for myself. 

 

I certainly don't want to believe MY sin is so bad as to require Good Friday. I know that if I had been in-charge (way back then) the crowd would never, never have cried out "Crucify him!" 

 

So I want to hear lots of nice and happy stuff and inspiring stuff--yes, that's right, just the kind of stuff that smiley guy on TV promises to give me: "Practical steps to encourage you to believe bigger, overcome obstacles, and live the life God has for you!" 

 

But certainly NOT the "gospel" because I can't hear the good news without first being pierced with "how great my sin and misery are" [see Heidelberg Lord's Day 1] and the horrible truth that I am inclined towards hating both God and my neighbor. 

 

I want to hear that things are still hunky-dory between me and God because I'm basically a pretty likable dude........... Right?

 

And yet.... deeper inside I know I'm not that good of a person. I'm not always that likable--especially not to those who know me the best. And even those closest to me see only part of me.  

 

Deep down I know that sometimes--even often--there is a harsh, hard, hateful me inside--a Mr. Hyde who makes me fear for my very soul because if God knows everything then how in the hell could God love me?? And I know those "practical steps" Joel Osteen talks about haven't done shit to change this dark side of me that no one, no one knows about. And, yes, yes I'd really love to be set free but nothing I've ever seen in church leads me to give any credence to this "Amazing-Grace, New Creation, Easter Transformation" stuff the preacher has talked about. 

 

Might there be a mustard seed of faith within me? I don't know. It's easier not thinking about it. It's easier just maintaining the facade. Besides it would be too horribly embarrassing to do what I really, REALLY want to do this Easter: to fall to my knees, to weep uncontrollably, to cry out, "Lord, have mercy on me, a sinner," to weep until I've let go of every pretense of being pretty much OK. 

 

And then to have Jesus take my hand in his. And he lifts me up and asks me just like he asked Peter, "Do you love me?" Peter said Yes. But I am speechless, the only honest answer being, "Jesus, I want to, but I haven't been.... you see, I believe--but help me--because I usually don't. At. all." 

 

Tears still streaming down my face and feeling as if every shred of self-esteem and self-confidence I ever thought I had is now dead... And then I feel myself being held (doubts and all) safe in the arms of the wounded, crucified, risen Jesus who says, "With everlasting love I will have compassion on you. Return to me, for I have redeemed you. Believe this: I will never leave you nor forsake you; I will never let you down and never let you go." 

 

 

Yes, that's what I'm looking for on Easter.  More than anything in the world.

Lord's Day 34

"My Prayer" (a Lenten sermon for Lord's Day 34, the Ten Commandments)

Thus says the Lord:

Cursed are those who trust in mere mortals

    and make mere flesh their strength,

    whose hearts turn away from the Lord.

Blessed are those who trust in the Lord,

    whose trust is the Lord (Jeremiah 17:5, 7).

…If anyone is in Christ, there is a new creation: everything old has passed away; see, everything has become new! (2 Corinthians 5:17).

“Dark midnight was my cry; dark midnight was my cry; dark midnight was my cry…” (LUYH #423)

 Brothers and sisters in Christ:

The prophet Jeremiah has given us a stark contrast between blessing and curse… True happiness when we rely solely upon God… A curse when we rely on mortals, when we lean for support on humankind, when our hearts are far from God.

This sounds just WRONG, doesn’t it? How else are we to get through life without relying on each other? When dark midnight is our cry, don’t we long for encouragement from each other? Don’t we give thanks for get well cards and prayers and guidance from others? Aren’t we supposed bear one another’s burdens?  We need friends, don’t we?

Of course we do. Friends point us in the right direction. Friends care about us and care for us when we’re in need, comfort and console us when dark midnight is our cry. And when we’re pigheadedly heading the wrong direction, friends confront us in love. Friends are gifts from God.

And, yet, Jeremiah says “a curse on anyone who trusts in mortals and leans for support on humankind.” What does he mean?  

It is tempting, even NATURAL to put our confidence in the THINGS God has given us instead of in God. To trust the GIFTS rather than the Giver. And it’s even tempting to look towards friends and our Christian sisters and brothers INSTEAD OF GOD… 

And, here’s the bug-a-boo with that….

Sometimes people fail us—indeed, ALWAYS… eventually… we all fall short…

So trusting in mortals instead of God is a recipe for disappointment…. 

And so I think what Jeremiah is saying is that if we’re looking to our friends, to our church family, even to our leaders (deacons, elders, and pastors)…  If we are looking all of them and/or humankind in general to SAVE US, to RESCUE US, to heal us, to revive and renew us… This will bring sadness and frustration… It will bring us the very opposite of blessing.

Because you aren’t God, you can never take the place of God in someone’s life, right? And since my friend, my brother, my mom or dad aren’t God, they can never be my All in All and I can never expect them to be, right?

And here is a very important corollary— If friends or leaders or even all of humankind cannot be my All in All… then certainly I can’t be MY OWN “all in all” either, right? 

Anne Lamott says,

Most good, honest prayers remind me that I am not in charge, that I cannot fix anything, and that I open myself to being helped by something, some force, some friends, some something. These prayers say, "Dear Some Something, I don't know what I'm doing. I can't see where I'm going. I'm getting more lost, more afraid, more clenched. Help."

These prayers acknowledge that I am clue­less; but something else isn't. While I am not going to go limp, I am asking for the willingness to step into truth. It's like the old riddle: What's the difference between you and God? God never thinks he's you.”

In the very first commandment God said, “I am the LORD your God who brought you out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of slavery: Thou shalt have no other gods before me.”

And so the logic behind “NO OTHER GODS” is the logic of FREEDOM.The God who set us free from the chains in the first place sets us free indeed with ten "rules for grateful living" and the first rule is to renounce all other gods but God because all those other gods eventually put us back in those chains again. We are set free so we might LIVE free!

We are set FREE from thinking we need to trust in or ultimately depend on any mere mortals including ourselves! And we are set free when we let God be God in our lives.

And then—oh my—what a wonderful paradox it is when our hearts are close to God and we put our confidence not in each other but solely in God:  THE PARADOX IS THAT THEN, JUST THEN AND ONLY THEN… MIRACLES OF MIRACLES:  we find our relationships transformed, redeemed, made new again. Admitting my own brokenness, I can let my sisters and brothers be broken and wounded people JUST LIKE I AM!

Henri Nouwen says “Friends cannot replace God (but) God gives us the friends we need (as a gift) WHEN we need them IF we fully trust in God’s love.”

“Blessed is anyone who trusts in the Lord, and rests his confidence in God”—solely, completely, totally, unwaveringly in GOD and in God alone.

Together putting our faith in God and depending TOTALLY on God’s grace and mercy, we find oneness with each other in Christ in spite of our woundedness.   And by God’s grace—ALL THINGS BECOMING NEW—we can follow Jesus in the way of the cross. Mutual self-sacrifice. Offering ourselves to each other as the VERY PRESENCE OF CHRIST yet without an expectation that we can imitate him perfectly.

And so we forgive one another as Christ has forgiven us. And we affirm each other because we each bear the image of God inside us—we are of GREAT VALUE and IMMENSE WORTH to God.  He made us and we belong to him.

And so together we can help each other walk in the way of the cross, confront each other when we trust in anyone or anything other than God. Plead with each other to LOVE God and LOVE OTHERS.  Inspire each other to die to our old selves and rise anew daily to OUR true selves, our new selves in Christ…. Loving Life… Loving and Respecting Each Other… Sharing instead of Hoarding… Speaking the Truth instead of Hiding… Loving instead of Reacting in Fear… Putting Envy and Jealousies aside because our hearts are humble and overflowing with gratitude.

This is the NEW CREATION—our best and truest selves alive within us through the Spirit.

This is my prayer.

“In the morning when I rise, in the morning when I rise, in the morning when I rise, give me Jesus. Give me Jesus; give me Jesus! You can have all this world; give me Jesus.”

Upcoming on Sunday, April 6 (Palm Sunday)

Just two weeks before Easter, the 5^th Sunday has, in many traditions, special significance and special customs.

In Scotland and parts of England, for example, peas cooked in butter are traditional on this particular Sunday. I can’t recall why this is, but I personally like buttered peas and it seems like a neat bit of “indulgence” in the midst of a Lenten fast—at least the butter part, right? J

For most of the history of the church, the 5^th Sunday in Lent was known as Passion Sunday, an opportunity to renew personal Lenten commitments to repentance, self-examination, prayer and fasting prior to Holy Week. Our series in the Heidelberg Catechism calls for the Ten Commandments to be our focus on this particular Sunday. We will recite them together following the prayer of confession and assurance of pardon. Why at that point in the service? Because the Heidelberg puts the commandments in “Part III-Gratitude” and envisions “the Law” as a guide for grateful living.  

The sermon, entitled “My Prayer” will be a personal testimony of sorts—Lord willing—an opportunity to share not merely what the scripture might be saying to us, but what God’s grace and living in gratitude mean to me—deep down inside of me. The sermon flows out of the contrasting prophecies of God in Jeremiah 17, “Cursed are those who trust in mere mortals and make mere flesh their strength, whose hearts turn away from the Lord” (verse 5) and “Blessed are those who trust in the Lord, whose trust is the Lord” (verse 7), scripture passages referenced in the Heidelberg Catechism Lord’s Day 34.  And we’ll celebrate the Lord’s Supper, too. So even though April 6 isn’t a “special day” on the calendar of the church year, I hope this mostly-traditional service of worship will prove to be deeply inspirational for all.   

Lord's Day 33

Prayer of Confession

Adapted from Psalm 51 (The Message translation) and the Heidelberg Catechism Q&As 89 & 90

Generous in love—God, give grace!
Huge in mercy—God, wipe out my bad record.
Scrub away my guilt, soak out my sins in your laundry.
For I know my shortcomings; my Sin stares me down
I am truly sorry for my sin—
help me to run away from the temptation to do the wrong thing,
the easy or cowardly thing, the selfish thing.
O God, make a fresh start in me,
shape a rising-to-life, new-creation spirit inside me.
Help me to discover wholehearted joy in your love;
create compassion and love in me,
a delight to live according to your will
by doing every kind of good work.
And then tune me in to your foot-tapping songs,
set my once-broken bones to dancing.
Through Christ, my Savior and Lord. Amen.

Press the reset button...

It's Lent, a time for repentance and self-examination. And I'm well-aware I haven't blogged as often as I had hoped during my preaching series on the Heidelberg Catechism.  But, nevertheless, the worship and sermon series continues in recognition of the 450th anniversary (last year) of the Heidelberg Catechism and as my own personal response to a challenge from my seminary professor of church history, Gary Neal Hansen. By the way, Dr. Hansen is the author of Kneeling with Giants: Learning to Pray with History's Best Teachers. I highly recommend it. The challenge--it should be noted--was to preach through the catechism--nothing in the challenge about a blog. This was my own doing. To "press the reset button" is like starting this blog over again. And pressing the reset button is one way to look at repentance or conversion. I'll get to that in a few paragraphs. 

Heidelberg450 continues this Sunday at First Presbyterian Church Lake Crystal with Lord's Day 33. It deals with "genuine repentance or conversion;" the "dying away of the old self" and "rising-to-life of the new self;" and revisits Lord's Day 32 (Why do we do good works?) by defining good works as only those deeds born out of true faith. Seems quite appropriate for Lent, doesn't it? This conversion (Gk. metanoia) is, in the words of one of my confirmation students, "a transformation from one thing into another" like converting dollars into euros or rubles. Conversion is "foundational and incisive.... It is about the complete turnaround of my life by 180 degrees. It is about turning away from the life I have been used to up until now so that this old life stays behind me and is done away with. And it is about turning to another, unfamiliar life, unknown to me until now, so that with every step I take, this new life is ahead of me" (Eberhard Busch, Drawn to Freedom: Christian Faith Today in Conversation with the Heidelberg Catechism, p. 266).      

An interesting contextual note:  Lord's Days 32 & 33 are at the very beginning of Part III entitled "Gratitude." So here the catechism is addressing "genuine repentance or conversion" immediately prior to its exposition God's Guide to Grateful Living, the Ten Commandments.  The catechism does not portray the commandments as rules which, if and when broken, put us into hot water with God; but rather, the catechism envisions these mandates in the context of the last paragraph of Q&A 1, "Because I (already!) belong to him, Christ, by his Holy Spirit... makes me wholeheartedly willing and ready from now on to live for him."

Conversion is an every-day event, I think. Every day there is a reset button. Every day is a new life. This, make no mistake, is not to take our shortcomings lightly. Not at all. The "dying-away of the old self" consists of being "...genuinely sorry for sin and more and more to hate and run away from it" (Q&A 89). And yet, to paraphrase the RCA baptismal liturgy, when we fall, we need not grovel, nor "despair of God's mercy," nor continue sinning as if there's no hope of ever escaping its chains in our everyday, ordinary lives. Not at all, for "...baptism is the sign and seal of God's eternal covenant of grace with us." And grace doesn't leave us chained to sin but sets us free!

Our Welcoming God (A Funeral Sermon)

Prelude

There is no deeper human need than the need to belong, to feel at home, to be welcomed.  I want to tell you about our welcoming God. I want to tell you about Jesus.

There are many good things a sermon at a funeral might hope to accomplish. Certainly, we want and need to hear words of comfort and hope. And yet not saccharine or superficial words—there is no sweetness in death; and hearts wounded by a real loss are not healed with words devoid of depth. So my prayer is that I might not MERELY provide bandage for your sorrowing spirits but a healing balm. Jesus—this I truly believe—Jesus is the healing balm. Jesus is our precious Savior, our strong and reliable refuge, our place of solace. 

I grew up saying it this way: 

My one and only comfort comes in knowing that I am not my own, but BELONG, body and soul, in life AND in death, to my faithful Savior Jesus Christ. 

So I could really end it right there, but I must confess this is just the introduction. But in a nutshell what I’m saying is this: We belong to Jesus; we belong to a faithful, promise-keeping, welcoming God.

 

I – Matthew (Welcoming the forgotten ones)

But I want to expand upon this just a bit—and, in doing so, to relate this to some happy memories and evidences of God’s grace in Phyllis’ life. And, to do this, I want to reflect upon four of my favorite gospel passages… one each from Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John.

In Matthew Jesus tells a story about the final judgment that reveals volumes about God’s priorities for us. In this story the king separates men and women like a shepherd sorting sheep and goats and he puts the sheep on his right hand, saying, “Come, you who have won my Father’s blessing! Take your inheritance—the kingdom reserved for you since the foundation of the world! For I was hungry and you gave me food. I was thirsty and you gave me a drink. I was lonely and you made me welcome. I was naked and you clothed me. I was ill and you came and looked after me. I was in prison and you came to see me there.” 

You know the rest of the story, right? Those winning the king’s favor are surprised—even shocked—and ask, “Lord, when did we see you hungry and give you food? When did we see you thirsty and give you something to drink? When did we see you lonely and make you welcome, or see you naked and clothe you, or see you ill or in prison and go to see you?” And the king says, “I assure you that whatever you did for the humblest of my brothers and sisters you did for me.”

Sounds like God wants us to be a reflection of his own radical hospitality. To give to the ones least likely to pay us back, to remember and care for the forgotten and hidden ones. 

Our God as a WELCOMING GOD, a God of hospitality… makes me think of Phyllis.  I’ve heard so many neat stories from family and friends of Phyllis opening up the yard to trucks and her home to friends and family and strangers alike, stories of coffee-time evolving into a meal—maybe goulash with some corn on the side, maybe some bread pudding for dessert. Even at Country Neighbors every visitor got a Dum-Dum sucker. 

Grandchildren, great-grandkids, did you ever not feel welcomed? Did you ever not feel valued and loved? Of course not.  

Phyllis was ALWAYS helping somebody, always caring, sharing, demonstrating Christ’s compassion through her own caring spirit, reflecting God’s hospitality in a hundred different ways. What a wonderful legacy she leaves for your family. What a wonderful legacy for the church. 

     

I was in Mankato last night at the recognition dinner for the individuals and groups who volunteer to ring the bell during the Christmas season for the Salvation Army’s Red Kettle Campaign. The speaker told a story about a time when the founder of the Salvation Army, William Booth, wanted to send a “message to the troops” for their annual meeting. In the past, General Booth, as he was known, had always been present for these gatherings. But now his health was failing and he wouldn’t be able to attend. Funds were tight and Booth was by nature frugal and this, of course, was long before email or texting. So he sent a one-word message… by telegraph.  And it was opened with great fanfare and then read to the whole convention. It said simply, “OTHERS! Signed, Gen. Booth.” 

 

One word: Others.

II – Luke (Welcoming the lost)

There are three interconnected stories in Luke’s gospel and these, too, speak volumes about what God is like and our motivation for being caring, welcoming people:

In the first one, a shepherd has a sheep that’s gone missing. There are 99 accounted for and safe—just one missing. You know the ending, right? The shepherd finds the lost lamb and calls his friends to celebrate. In the second story, an elderly woman has ten coins but one is… LOST… she cleans like crazy until she finds it and then, coin in hand, she posts an excited message on Facebook, “Come to my house! We’re having a party with Potato Pancakes and Bread Pudding. Because the coin was lost but I found it!”

And do you remember the third one? Just like the first two—there’s something lost. And in the end there’s a party. Remember?

And when the younger son was still a long way off, his father saw him. His heart pounding, he ran out, embraced him, and kissed him. The son started the speech he’d been rehearsing over and over, saying: “Father, I’ve sinned against God, I’ve sinned against you; I don’t even deserve to be called your son...”

But the father wasn’t listening. “Quick!” he said to the servants, “Bring out the best robe and put it on him! Put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet! Fetch the fattened calf and slaughter it. We’re going to feast! We’re going to have a wonderful time! Because this son of mine was dead and has come back to life! He was lost and is found!”

And then the festivities began in earnest!

So why should we do all the things Phyllis showed us how to do? Why do we live as reflections of our welcoming God? What’s our motivation?

One word: Gratitude

.

Because each of these stories is about us.

Lost.

And then found.

Dead.

And then alive again.

And then God throws a party.  Because, pure and simple, finding the lost makes God over-the-top happy; it makes God just as overjoyed as he wants us to be.

   

III – Mark (Welcoming the children)

So quickly to Mark for one more story.  The disciples—like us lots of times, although most often not to each other’s face—were arguing about which of them was most important. And Jesus said, “You want first place? Then take ahold of last place because whoever wants to be first must be least of all and the servant of all.” And then he reached for the hand of a little boy, placed him among the disciples, and hugged him. Then he said, “Whoever welcomes one of these children in my name welcomes me.” 

In spite of the challenge to our innate desire for first place, that story makes us smile, doesn’t it? It does because again we see Phyllis in the story—we remember how close she was to each of you and how she did just what Jesus said, “Welcome these children. Embrace them. Make sure they know they are precious, honored, loved.” 

Can we see something else in this story, too?  Isn’t it true that when you or I feel, “Yes, I do indeed belong to God; yes, I’m the little child that Jesus embraces”—it is at that very moment that we are set free to really live and laugh and love… to reflect the hospitality of our welcoming God as Phyllis did in her life. 

IV – John (Welcoming us home)

Both the subject and the object of this sermon is Jesus. The focus isn’t so much about how Phyllis lived or how we are called to live—that’s not unimportant but not the focus and we only worry about that AFTER we grasp the subject of our worship—Jesus—and give praise and thanksgiving and our innermost longings to the object of our worship—Jesus again.

It is this Jesus, the Son of God, who makes promises only he can keep.

Like Phyllis preparing a place for everyone at the supper table, Jesus assures us, Jesus promises, “I’m going to prepare a special place for you. And in the meantime, I’m going to leave you with the Holy Spirit who will make my presence REAL and ALIVE to you! So don’t let your hearts be distressed or stressed. You are precious to me. Have no fear, for I am with you always.”

Postlude

You know, the Bible give us a lot of details about how Jesus comes to take us home. There are a lot of popular ideas, images, pictures in our minds:  My grandmother had visions of a second story—all white—above her nursing home—where it was easy to walk around and the food was great.

I have this picture of Mary Ann and Myron and all of you and even me walking Phyllis to the edge of the River. And at the edge, we let her go and she walks through the water alone—but only for a moment—it’s less than a moment and then Jesus has her hand, and Jesus takes her safely across to the place where there’s no more pain, no more dying, no more tears. 

 

Whatever your image of this, you can be sure:  Our God is a “Welcome Home” God.  Jesus welcomed the least of these, the lost, the children.

Jesus’ very posture on the cross—his arms spread open—is a posture of welcome. Jesus’ posture at the fire on the shore after his resurrection—even towards Peter who had denied him—was a posture of reassurance, forgiveness, and welcome.  And so, even now, you can be sure, Phyllis is safe in the arms of Jesus.   

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and the Holy Spirit.  Amen.