Saturday, June 29, 2013

Sermon: Wanna' Be Disciples

"Wanna' Be Disciples"
Luke 9:51-62

Jesus was on his way to Jerusalem. This was really significant the way the author of Luke saw it. The author knew it was a signal that things were going to be different from then on. Jesus was at a crossroad - he could continue comfortably building his fame out in the hinterlands of Galilee or he could embark on a path that would surely create a stir.
There's no question that Jesus knew he faced a confrontation with the religious authorities once he arrived in Jerusalem. He had to know that things were going to get really messy once he got to the holy city - perhaps even that blood would be shed and that it was probably going to be his own.

And yet, "he set his face toward Jerusalem." And on the way, he held some open-air, experiential, discipleship 101 seminars. We sense that his hope was to better prepare his "wanna' be" followers to take over the reins of the movement. Based on some of the things that happened on the way and after his arrival, it's amazing the movement survived at all.

Now, as if heading to Jerusalem itself wasn't suggestive enough of trouble ahead, Jesus  charted a course that invited even further potential conflict. True, passing through Samaria was the most direct route between Galilee and Jerusalem, but most Jews avoided the shortcut through Samaritan areas as much as possible because they knew they were not wanted there. In fact, Samaritans were known to cause physical harm to those who ventured through. Despite how good Jesus made the Samaritans look a little later on his journey you can be sure they weren't interested in providing even a little hospitality for someone heading for Jerusalem. And they didn't disappoint.

James and John were offended and thought the occasion called for a little, uh, righteous indignation - you know, a little real fire from on high to show the Samaritans with whom they were dealing. Their take on the situation seems to have been: "what's the death of a few Samaritans when it is the Lord's comfort and acceptance that is at stake?"

Jesus' response is lesson # 1 from the Discipleship 101 manual: "No! That's not the way we're going to handle it when people disagree with us - when they don't see things the way we see them. There will be no retaliation when we're made fun of because of our stances around social issues - there'll be no taking of human life when persons of other faiths offer their points of view - there'll be no pointing of fingers when people are struggling as a result of their sins. Following me is going to take a thick skin - a more tolerant attitude toward those who don't agree with you."

I'm a United Methodist christian - perhaps for some reasons open to challenge, but for sure also because of some tenets that resonate with my personality and spiritual life experiences. One of those is that it is important to examine our human tendencies toward exclusive knowledge or faith. One of the most notable religious leaders of our tradition, John Wesley, set the tone for this way of dealing with differences when he wrote: "I have no more right to object to a man for holding a different opinion from mine than I have to differ with a man because he wears a wig and I wear my own hair; but if he takes his wig off and shakes the powder in my face, I shall consider it my duty to get quit of him as soon as possible."

Another place he emphasized it with these words: "The thing which I resolved to use every possible method of preventing was a narrowness of spirit, a party zeal, a being straitened in our own bowels - that miserable bigotry which makes many so unready to believe that there is any work of God but among themselves." When his nephew, Samuel, the son of his brother, Charles, entered the Roman Catholic Church, John Wesley wrote him: "Whether in this church or that I care not. You may be saved in either or damned in either; but I fear you are not born again." That was an especially liberal position in Wesley's day.

The invitation to Holy Communion offered by UM pastors is influenced by this understanding. I usually said something like this: "This table is an open table - all are welcome to partake of the elements of this holy meal. You do not have to be a member of this church or any church to receive. All that is necessary is for you to desire the grace of God this sacrament proclaims is possible for all to receive." Our avowed pluralism and desire to be tolerant of those who differ from is probably one of the most vital tenets or attitudes we bring to the ecumenical dialogue.

I cannot tell you how much I detest hearing about this group or that group starting another denomination because they could not continue to worship with persons who thought or believed differently than they did. The conviction that our beliefs or our methods alone are correct has been the cause of more tragedy and distress in the church and world than almost any other thing.

One final comment about being tolerant: our tolerance must be based on love and not on indifference. We are not to tolerate because we could not care less, but because we look at the other person with the eyes of love rather than the eyes of criticism. When Abraham Lincoln was criticized for being too courteous to his enemies and when he was reminded that it was his duty to destroy them, he gave this wonderful answer: "Do I not destroy my enemies when I make them my friends?" Even when we believe persons are wrong, we must never regard them as enemies to be destroyed, but as strayed friends to be recovered with love. We would do well to hear Jesus' teaching on tolerance in our personal lives, in our national government decision-making process as well as in our dealings with those who differ from us religiously.

Well, so Jesus and his disciples continue on their way toward Jerusalem. While on the way to another village Jesus shares with them about some of the difficulties they may face with those considering joining the movement. He does so through his encounters with three would-be followers. I don't think it's too hard to see ourselves in the three wanna' be disciples.

The first wanna’ be boldly proclaimed that he wanted to follow Jesus - he volunteered. It happens sometimes - people get caught up in the excitement of the movement, the Palm Sunday and Easter-like experiences, that they enthusiastically rush to sign on the dotted line. A red flag went off inside Jesus. His response suggests that he sensed this volunteer didn’t have a clue what the future held for those who signed on.  “Foxes have holes and birds of the air have nests; but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head.” “The cost of following me might mean that you won’t be staying in a Hyatt Regency or even a Motel 6 tonight. It means that you won’t know where you’re going to stay some nights. It means that your ministry might take you beyond where you live. You might have to sleep on a few church floors. You might not be able to shower every day.” “Are you really ready to do without in order to follow me?” “Discipleship is not for the soft or pampered; it involves sacrifice and self-denial.” (1)

We certainly can't accuse Jesus of trying to make following him look easy in order to pad the membership roles. The “Prosperity Gospel,” so popular in some Christian circles, is certainly not something Jesus used to solicit followers. There’s no “Jesus is the solution to your problems, a major means of making your life more pleasant, the way to fix whatever ails you, including your financial woes,” (2) from his lips. There’s no convenience store religion for Jesus – no weekly inoculation against authentic Christianity. There’s a high cost involved for those who choose to follow Jesus according to Jesus.

Another wanna’ be disciple approached Jesus and Jesus said to him, “Follow me.” Apparently Jesus saw some things in this guy that he wanted to cultivate or felt he could use. The man though questioned Jesus’ timing. He couched his reluctance in a request to Jesus that he first be allowed to go and bury his dad.

Now, on the surface that doesn’t sound like an unreasonable request, does it? I mean, what’s a few days to bury a guy’s father? Bible scholars tell us that what they think was really going on here was, the man’s dad wasn’t dead – that he really was making reference to the ancient near east cultural norm that a son had a responsibility to a father as long as the dad lived. The guy was basically putting Jesus off indefinitely.

Jesus saw through the man’s qualified and reluctant response and rejected his request. “Nope, that won’t do. You need to respond today.” Jesus’ rejection of the man’s request wasn’t a sign of a lack of pastoral concern on the part of Jesus. Rather, it was an awareness on Jesus’ part that this was a crucial moment in this man’s life.  “I will follow, but…maybe a little later in my life,” doesn't cut it with Jesus.

Just as some people need to be cautioned not to decide too impulsively, some need to be challenged to get on with it. There comes a time when a person's whole being says, "Yes, the time is now! To put some things off too long is to risk never doing them." Yes, there is a time for taking one's time and thinking out actions and results: like the one who volunteered needed to do. But there is also a time for moving ahead once consequences are considered. Jesus wants us to consider what we are in for, but he does not want us to waste our lives over the matter without ever making up our minds.

The third wanna’ be disciple offered: “I’ll follow you, Lord, but I need to first go say goodbye to my family and friends.” Jesus saw right through this man’s stall tactic as well. He could tell that this man’s problem was that he was concerned about how others in his life would feel about his response. He was concerned about how well he would still fit in with his friends – whether it was going to be worth leaving behind his former life and relationships. Jesus called him on his concerns as well, “No one who puts his hand to the plow and looks back is fit for the kingdom of God.” “Nothing less than your undivided attention and loyalty will do. You can’t plow a straight furrow when you are looking back over your shoulder – when you’re looking at your past.” “I will follow, but…first let me take another look at what I would be giving up – let me make sure everyone around me is O.K. with what I’m going to do” doesn’t cut it with Jesus either.

Luke’s trilogy of wanna-be disciples, of discipleship 101 dropouts, isn’t the only place in the bible where persons sensing themselves being called by God resisted. The bible is full of people with alibis – full of people who came up with some pretty creative, even at times fairly legitimate, excuses for trying to get out of serving God. Elijah said, “Excuse me, Lord, but I’m not pious or pure enough.” Jeremiah resisted with, “Uh, Lord, I’m too young.” And Moses tried over and over to get out of it: “I’m too old.  I’ve earned my retirement.” “I’m not good at public speaking.” “There are many much more qualified than me.” The Lord wouldn’t listen to any of them. It was, “Do what I am asking, what is needed in this time and place, and I’ll provide you with the necessary gifts to do what I need you to do.”  

“O.K., Lord, I’ll follow, but first let me have a little more fun in life.” “O.K., Lord, I’ll follow, but let me first get my children grown or at least a little older.” “Sure, Lord, I’ll follow, but let me get my house paid off and the kids through college.” “Yeah, O.K., I’ll start going to church more often, but let me get a little more used to retirement, my new community, my new schedule.”

One preacher offered that it is time for us to “ban the buts” in the church.  He suggests that once the buts are done, blessings await. (3)

Jacqueline Townsend wrote a piece that she titled “The Confessions of a Reluctant Steward” in which she talks about a time she was ambushed on the way out of church. “Will you do flowers?” she was asked. She writes about her experience:

“I couldn’t figure any graceful way out of this one. It didn’t seem the right moment to point out that I was flat broke in both the time and talent department. I was trapped. I spoke the word so many dare not say: ‘Sure.’

“So I do flowers. You must understand I am not the artistic type. My idea of a festive centerpiece is matching salt and pepper shakers. Botanical knowledge is out of my realm, although I am able to identify a carnation, thanks to cans from contented cows.

“Why couldn’t it have been something easy, like traveling in the belly of a whale? The worst part was knowing my name would show up in the schedule. People would know I was the bi-weekly mishandler of blooms! On the other hand, it was a little flattering to be asked (someone noticed I was here) and thought capable (maybe I could get a book from the library). I vowed to do my best, at least until I could pawn the task off on someone else. My schedule revealed I could squeeze it in if I gave up ironing. It seemed such a small sacrifice for the church.

“As the weeks went by, I found myself looking anew at the world around me. I noticed when the fireweed bloomed. My husband would report, ‘There’s some wonderful fern down by the creek bank.’ We took walks looking for wildflowers. I learned to boldly venture into the cooler at the florist shop in search of lemon leaves and baby’s breath.

“Just this week I made the most amazing discovery – I like doing the flowers. It’s not the arrangements themselves; I’m never quite satisfied. Spending time in the silent church, either alone or with my husband, is so refreshing. I peruse the bulletin board and book table, poke around in the sacristy picking out a vase, talk to God, maybe sing a little. Today, for no reason at all I looked in the fridge, just like when I go to my mom’s. It’s a little homecoming every other Saturday. I don’t even miss the ironing.” (4)

It’s a start – doing flowers for the altar when you don’t feel like you have the skills or interests. But, I hope you know that the cost Jesus is warning will be involved in following him might involve something a little more costly than a little embarrassment here or there – something a little compensating for the learning curve might be able to correct. The cost might be having to put up with smells we know a little soap and deodorant could correct, a lightening of our wallets, a learning Spanish, a singing music a little louder and faster so that others in need of the Gospel can experience it, a socializing with people of a different social class, a teaching Sunday School. The questions we should ask ourselves are ones like: “Is God calling us me to a special, unique, aspect of discipleship?” “Is there something staring me in the face that I need to pay attention to but that I'm creating excuses for not doing it instead?” “Am I guilty of being a wanna’ be disciple?” “Have there been times in my life when I’ve heard the voice of God in my heart or mind call to me and I’ve responded, “I’ll follow, Jesus, but…?” Is it possible that it's time for that response to change?

Let us pray:  Lord, help us to hear you in the midst of the concerns that rise up within us, in the midst of sensing the riskiness in what you are calling us to do. Help us to hear you reassuring us that you are with us.  We want to be your disciples, Lord, help us to act upon our desires and your invitation.  In your name we pray.  Amen.


1    Dr. Brian Bouknight, Collected Sermons, “No Reserves, No Retreats, No Regrets,” (ChristianGlobe Networks, Inc., 2002), 0-000-0000-13.
2    William H. Willimon, Pulpit Resource, “He Set His Face to Jerusalem,” p. 8.
3    David E. Leininger, Collected Sermons, “Ban the ‘Buts’,” (ChristianGlobe Networks, Inc., 2005), 0-000-0000-16.
4    Ibid.

Wednesday, June 19, 2013

My Wedding Ring Slipped Off!

"My Wedding Ring Slipped Off!"

It happened a few mornings ago. I was showering, soaping up the washcloth and thus my fingers, when the sensation was communicated between my ring finger and my brain: "the wedding ring is over the first knuckle intent on journeying off my finger to the shower floor!" With a panicked quickness I was pleased my body could still muster my hand clenched into a fist thus stopping the ring's slippery journey.

As I continued to shower it occurred to me that my body's recoiling at the recognized potential temporary displacement of the ring from my finger to the shower floor wasn't:

* Concern about the ring going down the drain - way too small of drain holes;
* Compassion for my wife being inconvenienced when she had to bend down to retrieve it when I was done showering;
* Nor was it that married couples' superstitious attitude about ever taking the rings off - I'd long ago recovered from that idea after a few too many jammed and swollen fingers playing basketball and softball.

No, the issue that profoundly and disturbingly made its home in my psyche was that it symbolized in yet another more in-your-face physical way than even the daily morning mirror-views that I already had come to detest, that my body continues its loss of muscle mass. One of the identified physical circumstances of ALS is that there's a breakdown between the brain and spinal cord and our muscles; thus our muscles continually are losing the ability to function. And with the loss of function/use follows the loss of muscle mass or bulk.

It happens at different speeds and to different parts of our bodies - that is, each PALS is impacted differently. My early symptoms of weakened legs and energy were the result of ALS impacting my leg and diaphragm muscles. While I can still stand to transfer to and from bed, the shower and toilet, there's no way I can take a single step. While I can still eat whatever I want, I certainly cannot eat as much as I used to. While I can still speak softly, doing so wears me out very quickly. Some in our ALS community cannot speak or eat solid food. Some are totally bed-ridden. Some cannot use their hands. (I am currently learning to use an eye-gaze communication device so I can continue being in touch with friends and family via Facebook and email as my faltering fingers fail me.)

So, while we may joke among our community about what we're dealing with in order to cope with our reality, we find it beyond comprehension how others (say, Atlanta area radio announcers!) could intentionally try to get laughs at the expense of our conditions! I think Steve Gleason's, the former New Orleans Saint NFL player who was the target of their misguided bit, response was very gracious and right on. Instead of spending an exorbitant amount of time bemoaning their obvious mistake, let's use their misstep to bring more focused attention to the lack of awareness and treatment of this dreaded and deadly disease.

Thanks, friends! Blessings on you all!
   

Thursday, June 13, 2013

Attitude Adjustment and Race Relations


This past Friday (June 7, 2013) we attended the Ohio High School Athletic Association's State Track and Field Meet for a brief period. Primarily, we were there this year to see a grand-nephew compete in the Division III discus event. He finished second! Congratulations, Dakota!

Attending the state track and field meet was a yearly happening for me much of my life. It didn't matter whether I knew anyone competing a particular year or not. I went because I'm a track junkie and the state meet was my yearly fix. I went to see coaching and officiating friends as well as to watch wonderful young athletes stretch themselves. I think I've shared before on this blog that I not only was a track participant in high school (Ottawa-Glandorf) and college (ONU), but I also coached several age group track and field teams in Miamisburg, Urbana, and Lima. Track has provided me many wonderful friends and memories!

Being at the state meet at the Jesse Owens' facility on The OSU campus reignited this spot in my soul that feels the need to reflect on my personal journey regarding racial attitudes and the adjustment that happened in me. It wasn't a solitary event that produced the changed attitude though. Here's a summary that I fear will be oversimplified in the interest of fitting a blog post. This is my story and it is not my intent to cast blame or persecute anyone or any place that shared aspects of the journey with me.

I was privileged to grow up in the small county seat of Putnam County, Ottawa, Ohio. They were wonderful years full of very positive memories: neighborhood baseball games in Danny Ruhe's backyard, basketball games in our backyard, daily stops after school at Radabaugh and Otto's (formerly Corkwell's), working in dad's egg plant, riding bikes to the city park to swim, play basketball and flirt, hanging out at Sam's, delivering eggs to local grocery stores and Schwartz's bakery, ice skating on the east side, overnighters with friends, scouts, hanging out in the hall prior to the start of school, holding elaborate neighborhood track meets which were only popular with a few of us but included our neighbor, Jeff Huggins, who broke most of my high school records and in my estimation may have been one of the most gifted athletes ever to come out of that area. And then there were the church activities and the dating and band/choir and the Cymbols and dances and the deep and long-lasting friendships, even though not nearly as nurtured over the years as cherished.

I could go on and on, but the others will have to come in another blog post dealing with some other thought-provoking reflection. The point for now is simply I do not remember very many experiences growing up that involved persons of another race. We were primarily a predominately white community. Oh, there was the occasional child of migrant workers that attended school for awhile, but, for the most part our world-view was devoid of color. In my younger years I don't remember much discussion about people of color but as I got older there were the comments here and there that left me with the impression that some people regarded black people and Mexicans as people others didn't like - didn't want to be around or have around. I'm not sure it was ever mentioned why that was the way it was or ever overtly stated. There were just the comments and the jokes. I probably even entertained repeating some of them.

Probably the first inkling I had that there was a different way to regard people who weren't white was in Sunday School at Trinity United Methodist Church in Ottawa. It was one of those Sunday School favorite hymns that started the wheels in my heart, head and spirit to start spinning a different tape in me. "Jesus loves the little children, all the children of the world. Red and yellow, black and white, all are precious in His sight, Jesus loves the little children of the world." Hmmm.....what might this attitude of Jesus' the church proclaims have to say to this other more commonly accepted attitude? I began to wonder and ponder more and more. The conflict in my soul was on.

Then came high school and athletics. Again, I think I've mentioned before in one of my posts that I was fast - I had some speed as a runner - I could pick them up and put them down at a good pace. I had a couple of track and field teammates at the time who were also very talented in their events. Luckily, we had a coach and an athletic director who thought it was important for us to face competitors that would stretch us. And so, we had the opportunity to compete in big meets around the state - meets like the Mansfield, Princeton and Toledo Blade Relays.

On more than one occasion I was the only white sprinter to make it to the finals in the 100 yard dash. I can honestly say to you that not once did I hear any one of the other guys on the line say anything to make me feel uncomfortable. I felt accepted as one of them - a fellow sprinter. Oh, as we got better acquainted over the years there was the occasional "are you sure you're in the right place, whitey," always said in jest by one of the guys by then I considered friends. Not so, twenty or thirty yards from the starting line however.

Just before the race we would take a few practice run outs from the starting blocks. These usually consisted of about a twenty to thirty yard sprint. It was at that point that I would hear from someone along the side of the track or from the stands "you go, whitey, beat those niggers!" "Show them whose best!" "Put them in their place!" It wasn't the words alone that got to me though. It was the venomous emotion with which they were said - the obvious hatred that accompanied them. I couldn't believe it! I have to admit that I intentionally did not look the direction from which the comments came. I did not want to know who said them. Perhaps I was even afraid it would be someone I knew. While the battle for my soul continued around me and within, there was no question where the line was and on which side of the line I was on. Racism, prejudice, and bigotry were evil and doing nothing about the inner voices could no longer be entertained as somehow acceptable.

Then came college with black and white teammates as well as classmates and challenging interactions and conversations. Coupled with the national attention to issues of race it was a turbulent time. Despite my conversion to the importance of racial equality and the need to beat back racism in myself and society I was challenged by those who became personal friends that I had more work to do - and we all always will, friends. I am indebted to such people as Houston, Curtis, Dale, Diane, Bailey, Skip, Jim, Bill, and several others who cared enough about the potential for change that they risked their popularity on campus by raising issues when they needed to be raised and challenged even those of us already at least somewhat aware of the issues involved and the need for more to be done. It both hurt and was helpful.

Some of the other experiences that helped me with the attitude adjustment about racial issues included hearing Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. speak in Taft gym on the ONU campus my freshman year, just a few months before he was murdered, being on a multi-ethnic YMCA camp staff for two summers, and working with the Black Panthers on the west side of Dayton during seminary. But, perhaps the best, most satisfying, and most positive experiences happened around the age-group track and field teams in Urbana and Lima, particularly in Lima when we had a group of white and black coaches and parents who enjoyed track and working with children, but who also genuinely liked and cared for one another. There were numerous times when we had tears in our eyes while watching our kids run on a relay team and encourage one another, witnessed them standing along the track cheering their teammates on, hugging and high-fiving one another, or saw them sitting in the stands together sharing a meal or having an intense conversation. Was it always good? No. We and they didn't always get it right. But it was enough of a glimpse of heaven to deepen our hope for the fulfillment of the dream.

Have you seen the movie "42" yet? It's the story of Jackie Robinson and Branch Rickey's integration of Major League Baseball. You really need to see it and so do the younger generations. We need to constantly remind ourselves of what the journey has been like and what still needs to be done. Seeing it a few weeks ago was partially what lit the fire in my belly to share my story. So was the viewing of the Cheerios commercial and some of the reactions to it. Let me end this post, dangerously close to a dissertation, on this note: "as for me and my house, we're eating Cheerios!"
     
Well, there it is: my journey with having my attitude adjusted about race relations. I hope I haven't left anyone with the impression that I feel I've got my act totally together around race relations. I know we all have plenty of room for further growth. We need to keep working on it. My only hope with this piece is to cause others to pause and reconsider their attitudes and possible adjustments to it that might lead us to a better world.

Peace and God's blessings on you all!