Jonah, Violence, and the Imago Dei

A sermon preached on July 9, 2016 at United Presbyterian Church, Lone Tree, IA

Jonah. What an odd little book of our bible. It's absurd, really.

God commands his prophet, Jonah, to go preach to the great city of Nineveh. God sends Jonah straight into the heart of enemy territory. And Jonah refuses.

Not unreasonable I suppose.

Jonah not only refuses, he runs in the exact opposite direction until he reaches the ocean. There he buys a ticket on a ship to the furthest point west in the known world.

Jonah is sleeping in the bottom of his escape pod when an awful storm arises. Those in charge of the ship end up throwing Jonah overboard to stop the storm because Jonah is sure the storm is God's punishment for his disobedience.

The storm calms and a great fish swallows Jonah up. He remains there in its belly, until he is vomited up, three days later, on the beach.

God again sends Jonah on his way. Jonah goes to Nineveh where he walks the streets preaching a half-hearted, pathetic message; “40 days and you will be destroyed!”

One wonders why anyone would heed such a ridiculous message from an unknown preacher wandering the streets of their city.

But wonder of wonders, it somehow manages to do the trick. The whole city heeds Jonah's message. The people of Nineveh, led by their king, repent. Yes, their king, actually leads the repentance.

How crazy is that?

The whole telling of the tale includes the ridiculous image of the animals also being dressed up in sack cloth and ashes joining in with the humans in fasting.

And the result? Destruction is averted. The city is spared.

But. Jonah. Is. Crushed.

Jonah slinks off to a hillside in the country. There he wishes to die. He would rather die than see the people of Nineveh repent. He would rather die than be a part of God's plan to save the Ninevites.

And then:

God sends Jonah a plant that grows into a great bush in one day; this makes Jonah exceedingly happy. But then a worm destroys the plant the next morning and an east wind blows that dries everything up.

This makes Jonah so angry he once again wishes to die.

The story then wraps up with God challenging Jonah over his anger, saying,

“You ‘pitied’ the shrub, for which you didn’t work and which you didn’t raise; it grew in a night and perished in a night. 

Yet for my part, can’t I pity Nineveh, that great city, in which there are more than one hundred twenty thousand people who can’t tell their right hand from their left, and also many animals?”

This tale is completely absurd.

But I haven't even mentioned the most absurd part of all.

Jonah finds the love, the mercy, and the grace of God so absurd that he wants to die. He'd rather die than see the same grace and mercy he knows from God extended to his enemies, to those he despises, to those he sees as other.

He'd rather die than be any part of God's plan, that is if God's plan includes the Ninevites.

Jonah's pathetic little pity party finds him saying,

Come on, Lord! Wasn’t this precisely my point when I was back in my own land? This is why I fled to Tarshish earlier! I know that you are a merciful and compassionate God, very patient, full of faithful love, and willing not to destroy.

God's challenge to Jonah is poignant:

“How can you care more for this shrub than for the welfare of the people of Nineveh?”

You see there is this idea, this notion in the Jewish and Christian faith that we all have been made in the image of God. That each of us created to be bearers of God's image.

This idea is called the imago dei and it comes from the first chapter in Genesis where it is said that God created humankind God's image. It is re-enforced again by Jesus who said that when we serve others – especially the poor, the sick, the hungry, those in prison, we do it unto him.

In this story of Jonah, I hear God challenging Jonah because it seems he has forgotten how we are all made in the image God. That we all have value. That Jonah should care deeply for the welfare of the people of Nineveh, because God cares for all. 

That Jonah would choose violence rather than mercy.

As I was studying and working on this sermon breaking news came about altercations in Baton Rouge and Minneapolis, in which two different black men were killed at the hand of the police.

These shootings have re-ignited cries of cries and protest. And then to make maters worse, later in the week in Dallas in the midst of peaceful protests a sniper took the lives of 5 policemen.

I'm not going to say much about the circumstances of any of these shootings. I just don't have the distance or the energy to process this all with you this morning and truth be told I may say more than might be helpful.

But here is what struck me and hit me so hard in the midst of all this. We are all image bearers. Without qualification. 

Though broken and hurting, in need of mercy. Though Imperfect and flawed, in need of mercy. We are all image bearers.

Alton Sterling is an image bearer. A subject of violence in a world that seldom shows mercy.

Philando Castille is an image bearer. A subject of violence in a world that seldom shows mercy.

Our African American brothers and sisters are image bearers. Too often subjects of violence in a world that seldom shows mercy.

Brent Thompson, Patrick Zamarripa, Michael Krol, Lorne Ahrens, and Michael Smith are image bearers. Subjects of violence in a world that seldom shows mercy.

{Moment of Silence}

It's been a hard week, to say the least. It's been hard to know what to say. Hard to know where to find truth. Hard to find good news.

That said, I was so inspired by a story that crossed my facebook feed on Friday that I want to end with it this morning.

In the aftermath of so many recent events, a young african american women writes these powerful words:

So this morning I went into a convenience store to get a protein bar.

As I walked through the door, I noticed there were two white police officers (one about my age the other several years older) talking to the clerk (an older white women) behind the counter about the shootings that have gone on in the past few days.

They all looked at me and fell silent.

I went about my business to get what I was looking for, as I turned back up the aisle to go pay, the oldest officer was standing watching me. As I got closer he asked, "How are you doing?” I replied, "Okay, and you?”

He looked at me with a strange look and asked me,"How are you really doing?" I looked at him and said "I'm tired!" His reply was, "me too." Then he said, "I guess it's not easy being either of us right now is it?"

I said, "No, it's not." Then he hugged me and I cried.

I had never seen that man before in my life. I have no idea why he was moved to talk to me. What I do know is that he and I shared a moment this morning, that was absolutely beautiful. No judgments, No justifications, just two people sharing a moment.

Powerful words. My friends, this is where it begins.

Not judging but listening.

Learning and respecting.

Reaching outside of ourselves with love and compassion.

Putting aside labels and accusations of the other

Weeping with those who weep.

Looking for the image of God within our brothers and sisters.

Realizing that we are all in need of mercy and grace.

In a world of full of violence that seldom shows mercy, this is how we will begin to find healing, hope, grace, peace, justice, mercy, compassion, and love, not only for ourselves but for the world and everyone within; each uniquely made and created in the image of God.

Now and forever. Amen.  

Sermon: Advent 1 - The Messiah: Wonderful Counselor

A sermon preached on the first Sunday of Advent 2015 at United Presbyterian Church in Lone Tree, IA. The texts were Isaiah 9:2-7 and Luke 2: 39-52 . Special thanks goes to Walter Brueggemann for his fine study from the Thoughtful Christian on the four messianic titles for Jesus. 

We are in that time of our political cycle when I wonder why it is that I ever moved to Iowa.

As we head into January and the first in the nation caucuses to be held on Feb 1st, for months now we've been inundated with:

political advertisements,

daily news about the going ons of each candidate as they criss-cross the state,

facebook posts applauding or decrying what controversial thing this or that candidate has said,

and phone calls asking us to support, to caucus, or do volunteer work for candidates.

I have to say I'm so looking forward to February 2^nd when we can all get on with our lives...at least for a few months...until things ramp up again in the late summer and early fall in anticipation of the general election.

In American politics, we have this phenomenon where we place all sorts of hopes and dreams on our incoming Presidents. It doesn't help that candidates and new Presidents always over sell themselves.

They promise all sorts of things that they simply will not be able to deliver. Their speeches as candidates and as new presidents hold out hope:

for a new era of optimism and promise,

a new deal bringing progress and prosperity,

broad sweeping hope and change,

the return of American strength and power,

or the dawning of a new time of peace and liberty.

They intend to clean house,

to solve all our foreign policy issues,

to take our country to war or to get our country out of it,

to bolster the economy and create a plethora of jobs,

to build bridges between political parties,

to make decisions that are transparent in the political process.

You name it. They promise it.

But we all know....

That while some good things can certainly happen during the term of almost any President, the stark reality is that - more often than not, across the board, and no matter what political party is in power - things hardly ever turn out as we hoped they would.

Yet we still seem to hope and long for a better, more ideal America, for a better safer world, and as a result we continue to place all sorts of highfalutin expectations on each incoming President.

Each and every time.

Our text from Isaiah is set in a particular political context, in a particular geographical place and time. It highlights the same sort of hopes and dreams we place on our own leaders. It is full of the same sorts of lofty expectations and high ideals.

This 9th chapter of Isaiah might be referred to as “Royal Liturgy of the Kingdom” used in Jerusalem by the Israelites for the coronation of their new King.

The liturgy ascribes to the king honorifics bestowed on him when he comes to power. It anticipates a new regime of endless peace and a reign of justice and righteousness forever.

In particular, it ascribes to the new king four different titles: “Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, and Prince of Peace.”

This liturgy is set in the 8^th Century before Christ during the reign of King Hezekiah honoring him with flowery language and lofty slogans to celebrate and anticipate the days of his glorious reign.

The reality, however, was quite different.

King Hezekiah enacted some remarkable policies. Most notably he forestalled the assault of the Assyrian army. In the end, though, Hezekiah was a disappointment as his reign ultimately capitulated to the rising power of Babylon.

Perhaps it is inevitable. Perhaps it is always so. Such high expectations can never be realized. Yet that does not keep the same sort of ambitious expectations from being applied to and longed for in the next coming king.

Over and over again.

For the first three weeks of Advent and the first Sunday after Christmas we'll take a look at the four honorific titles found in verse 6. Titles which have long been ascribed to Jesus.

Early Christians took these titles from Isaiah and readily applied them to Jesus. In him they saw the fulfillment of the longing, hopes, and expectations of the Jewish people who were waiting for the coming of a Messiah.

One thing that is easy to overlook is that Christ's coming is set within a geographical location and time and in a particular political context. Rome rules over the Jewish people with absolute power through a coercive military presence and an oppressive tax system.

Jesus inaugurates a new regime of peace and well-being meant to displace the old Roman order of violence and extortion. He opposes the power of Rome and by extension each and every power that claims to be ultimate and absolute.

That's one reason why so many of our Christmas carols abound with royal imagery. In them Jesus comes as a long expected king. He is born to set his people free.

In particular, stories in the gospel abound of how Jesus can be seen to fulfill the title of “Wonderful Counselor” and how his life, ministry, and teachings confront the powers that be.

At the age of twelve, he astounds his parents and the leaders and teachers in the synagogue with his uncommon wisdom and with the divine and human favor that was upon him.

Those who heard his teaching and saw his miracles are astounded by how he taught with unusual authority, far beyond the authority of all other religious leaders. His teachings contradicted the usual assumptions. He confounded the political and religious authorities.

And his teachings continue to challenge Christians today – as they challenged us this year in our study of the Sermon on the Mount.

I've not had enough time to mull over and unpack these words from Walter Brueggeman. They are a mouthful. But I think there's something vitally important in them. He writes,

Jesus' kingdom will not come by supernatural imposition or by royal fiat but only by the daily intentional engagement of his subjects, who are so astonished by his wonder that they no longer subscribe to the old order of power and truth, that turns out to be, in the long run, only debilitating fraudulence.

I need to think about that some more but here is one way I see that play out...

Each and every day I'm becoming less and less convinced that our political leaders and rulers can affect the kinds of meaningful changes that can ever bring about a better world for all.

I don't know what took me so long. Perhaps I too was caught up in the hope that this or that President would somehow deliver on such lofty promises. Maybe I too easily conflated our country with the Kingdom of God. 

Rather, I'm becoming more and more convinced that the answer lies with folks like you and me who are willing to simply follow and to live in the ways of the Wonderful Counselor. And who will commit themselves to the upside down work of his Kingdom.

Imagine how we could shape and change the world if we only thought this to be absolutely true. If each and every day we were so astonished by Jesus' teachings that we made intentional and deliberate efforts to apply them to how we live as he called us to.

I think of a retired friend of mine who began to hear God's call to be with the marginalized. He is not seminary trained, but he loves Jesus. He began hanging out at a church in a poor neighbor in his city on Wednesday evenings. It wasn't really his thing, the preacher was a bit more conservative than he liked, but he came to love the pastor and the folks in that church.

Recently, he committed himself to be part of a ministry in which five or six well resourced people are trained to meet weekly in a group with a person who is working to get out of poverty. It's a ministry of mutual encouragement and support as each gives to the other in unimaginable ways.

I think of churches I've read about in recent weeks that are not giving into the overwhelming rhetoric of fear and who are committing themselves to connect to refugees from Syria. They are trying to take God's call to hospitality seriously by financially and in other ways assisting those our government has committed to re-settle.

Can one be a secret or potential terrorist? I suppose so, but I'm impressed with those willing to take the gamble that ministering to one in need in Christ's love may do far more to mitigate such danger than will mistreating them out of fear.

I think of the shooting in Colorado on Friday and how almost every week an event like this is in the news.

I think of how I long for Christians on all sides of the gun debate to sit down with one another, to put aside our agendas, to study together the teachings of Jesus, and to rise up before our leaders with substantive commitments to finally do something for the well being of our communities and for the good of our children, who should not have to live in fear of a world full of lock-down drills.

And, I think of each one of us, who each and every day, in all sorts of quite and unassuming ways, go about Jesus' ministry in our families and our communities, faithfully loving and caring for those God has placed in our lives. Maybe not perfectly, but still, trying to extend forbearance and forgiveness. Or taking a meal to someone in need, or sitting down over lunch with someone they disagree with, or just taking the time just to offer a listening ear.

I believe in such big and small ways, we can be a part of answering that age old question, first posed in Genesis, “Is anything too wonderful for the Lord?” Just as Jesus – the wonderful counselor - did, we too can attest to the great possibility of God in what often seems like such an impossible world.

Thanks be to God, the one who sent Jesus – the Wonderful Counselor - now and forever, Amen!  

Simply Be

Yesterday we had our first Slow Church conversation (over chapter 2). It was a fairly wide ranging discussion but in the end we honed in on God's call to simply be.

The book has a quote from Kyle Childress which framed our conversation quite nicely. Childress says "Slow Church is about taking time with God, with one another, and with yourself - and not only taking the time, but taking time over time. That makes a big difference."

To simply be is perhaps one of the most difficult callings in our culture.

We are always wanting to fix things. Ourselves, others, and the church. You name it, we want to control and fix. But more often than not our efforts to fix and control things - especially when we can't - leave us dealing with shame, guilt, despair, and feelings of inadequacy.

During our discussion we found ourselves throwing out ideas to solve certain problems we had identified with the community and with the church. It's such a common thing to do when you get a group of people together who love their church and want to see it thrive.

Thank God for the person who stopped us in the midst of all that and said, "Wait! This is making me feel anxious." It was a Spirit-led moment where we could all say, "Let's slow down. That's not what this was about!" and focus ourselves instead on God's call to simply be.

Sermon on the Mount: Don't Be Anxious

A Sermon preached at United Presbyterian Church in Lone Tree, Iowa on June 21, 2015

In memory of the 9 Mother Emmanuel members who lost their lives in the Charleston Massacre

Scripture passage: Matthew 6:25-34

So, Friday was our Son's sixth birthday.

It's hard to believe how quickly the last four years have blown by.

We've gone from a kid who spoke no English and who waddled around in diapers when we first brought him home from Ethiopia, to a spunky and fun loving little boy who talks all the time and who had his pre-school friends over yesterday for a superhero birthday party.

For some reason, a sixth birthday seems like a really big milestone. It's so much larger than the past three birthdays we celebrated with our child. I'm not sure exactly what it is, but there is definitely a marked difference with a sixth birthday.

It is awesome to watch your child grow up right before your eyes. To see them change, to mature, to grow and develop, to see their personalities come to full bloom, to see them develop their own loves and interests.

And yet, I worry.

I worry because my young child is starting to pull away. He's growing up way too quickly. He's got a strong sense of independence and a strong will which means I can't always control the choices and decisions he makes. Or protect him from his mistakes.

I worry too because I am an older parent. Occasionally, I wonder if I'll make it to his college graduation or see him get married, or hold a grand baby in my arms for the very first time. Every creek in my body or pain I haven't felt before sets off a tiny, little wave of anxiety.

But do you know what my biggest worry is regarding my son's future?

It's that one day Teddy will be a black teenager and then of course he will be a full grown black man - in today's society.

The events of the last several years but especially of this last week have raised my anxiety off the roof.

From Trayvon Martin, to Tamir Rice, to Eric Garner, and now to the 9 out of 12 African Americans who welcome a 22 year old man into their midst, and after sitting in a prayer meeting for a whole hour he finally opens fire and kills them.

As the events of Wednesday night and Thursday unfolded and we learned of the shooting at Emmanuel AME Church in Charleston - my wife looked at me and said, “What have we done, were we foolish to bring this beautiful and wonderful boy, into this country?”

It makes me so angry. That shouldn't even be a question we have to ask. Our world should be better than this.

Moms and Dads of black children should not have to worry that their children will constantly be under suspicion, that by simply being in the wrong place at the wrong time their kid's life might be extinguished at the point of a gun, and that not even the sanctity of a church or a prayer meeting is able to keep their loved ones safe.

Today's sermon is not the sermon I was going to preach. It is not the sermon I wanted to preach.

But as I was reminded over and over again by friends and by other people of color I have tried to listen to over this past week, to ignore it, to not speak about it, is a luxury that only I possess as a white pastor in a white church, in a predominately white community.

This my friends is the definition of White Privilege.

Today, in their worship services, our black brothers and sisters in Christ do not have the luxury of ignoring this week's events. Clergy cannot fail to address them. They cannot gloss over and ignore them in their churches this morning.

And I think the Spirit says, today, neither must we.

As I read and considered today's scripture passage in light of this week's events and my own anxiety surrounding them along with all my worries about the future for my precious child, I have to say, at first glance Jesus' words seem totally naïve.

Don't worry about your life, what you will eat or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing? ... Don't worry about tomorrow, tomorrow will have worries of its own.

In a nutshell: Live anxiety free!

Come on, Jesus, you're kidding, right? Don't you know the harsh reality of the world we live in?

The interesting thing is that Jesus does not point us toward the challenges and the difficulties we face in this broken world of ours. Instead he points our attention in a different direction.

He points our attention towards the natural world to teach us about the love and care of the creator.

Jesus points us to the birds and the flowers. Observing the birds he invites us to see them darting about, playing, and simply enjoying their God given life. Showing us the flowers he points us toward their natural God given beauty.

As Jesus observed the birds and flowers, he notes they simply do what they do without effort and without worry. They simply live into and depend on the love and care of the creator. They simply trust and lean into God’s love and care.

And he invites us to be like those birds and flowers. He invites us to live into, to trust, and to lean on God’s care and love for each and every one of us.

This is Jesus' antidote for worry :: God created us and God sustains us. Trust that. Live into it.

But then, Jesus goes one step further:

He tells us to pursue the kingdom, to pursue God's work.

This seemingly naïve passage, is actually the foundation for living out the call of Jesus as expressed in each and every teaching we've heard so far from the sermon on the mount.

The demands of the sermon are difficult. I've preached on some very hard and challenging things.

Jesus calls us to a different way of life, he calls us to think about ourselves and others differently. He calls us to the work of forgiveness and reconciliation, to forego our ways of violence, to pursue the paths of peace, to love our enemies, the list goes on...

I'm convinced the only way to live into the demanding call of Jesus in this Sermon, is to take to heart Jesus' words in this seemingly naïve passage.

He calls us to place our full trust in God's care and provision for us. To trust that no matter what happens we are always and will always be in God's hands. And that no matter what, in both life and death we belong to God.

But also to see our brothers and sisters as those too who are created in the image of God. And to value them, to care for and to provide for them as God does the very same thing for all his creation. And to do that hard work of reconciliation and building relationships.

I can only imagine that's how the daughter of Ethel Lance was able to look at the person who shot her mother and to say,

I will never talk to her ever again, I will never be able to hold her ever again. But I forgive you...You hurt me, you hurt a lot of people. May God forgive you.

Or how Felecia Sanders, the grandmother who shielded her 5-year-old granddaughter from gunfire, but also lost her son in process, could say to him:

We welcomed you Wednesday night at our Bible study with open arms. You have killed some of the most beautifulest people that I know… And it will never be the same. But as we said in Bible study, we enjoyed you. May God have mercy on you.

Or how, Allana, granddaughter of Daniel Simmons could say:

Although my grandfather and the other victims died at the hands of hate…everyone's plea for your soul is proof that they lived and loved and their legacies will live on.

And how she could firmly conclude: “Hate won't win."

“Hate won't win.”

Friends, if this world is ever going to be the sort of world that we want it to be. That God wants it to be. Then we've got to step up and be courageous. We've got to be bold. And we've got to place our full trust and confidence in the love and care of God so that we can:

Let go of our anxiety.

Let go of our defensive posture when we get called out on racism.

Let go of our fear and desire to keep the peace that keeps us from addressing racist remarks head on when we hear them amongst our friends and our family.

Let go of our pretensions that keep us from hearing the cries of our black brothers and sisters or that keep us from doing the hard and necessary work of learning about the realities of this world they face each and every day.

Now admittedly, sometimes we just don't know what to do. The issues are so huge. The systemic roots are so deep. But we must find something to do, no matter how small.

My friend Suzi, a children's librarian in Pittsburgh wrote a poem in response to the tragic events of this past week. And I'd like to share it with you.

She titled it:

Poem for the five year old child who played dead and survived the Mother Emanuel church shooting

She writes:

I can’t do much
I shelve books.

I can’t just fly on my magic carpet to Charleston
To bake some cupcakes.

So I do this:
I take down all the books on display.

Now
Every displayed book has
an ebony face,
Or faces that seek justice

(Including one on online bullying
Which has a white girl with blonde hair
On the cover.)

Biographies:
Rosa
Martin
Bessie (the pilot, not the singer)
Obama’s book to his daughters

Fiction:
Hold Fast (Blue Balliett)
Stella by Starlight (Sharon Draper)

Picture Books:
Back of the bus (Aaron Reynolds/Floyd Cooper)
Beautiful Blackbird (Ashley Bryan)

I ran out of room.

But when these books
Check out,
I have more:
Sonya the Hispanic Supreme Court Judge,
Clemente the Pittsburgh Pirate.

Even the Pigeon is seeking justice,
as misguided as he might be.

Friends, let us lean into the love and care and grace and providence of God and let us find ways each and every day to live out the words of this Sermon on the Mount.

The world is depending on it. I'm depending on it. My child is depending on it.

So Help Us God, now and forever. Amen.  

Sermon on the Mount: Peacemakers

A Sermon preached at United Presbyterian Church of Lone Tree, Iowa on May 17, 2015

Scripture Text: Matthew 5: 38-42

Before Easter, when I started preaching on the Sermon on the Mount, I spent three weeks on the Beatitudes.

In one of those early sermons, I said one purpose of the beatitudes is to paint images. The beatitudes give us vivid images to help us exercise our imagination. They provide us with a vision for what the Kingdom of God looks like as it comes in our midst.

One of those sayings in the beatitudes is, “Blessed are the Peacemakers for they will be called children of God.” And in this text for today, Jesus fills out for us a bit more of what that picture of peace might look like:

• Do not resist an evil person.

• If someone strikes you, turn the other cheek.

• If someone sues you for your shirt, give them your coat, too.

• If someone forces you to go one mile, go with that person another mile.

• Give to whoever asks, loan to whoever wants to borrow.

I probably don't need to tell you, these words of Jesus are a real challenge.

Some say they are naïve. Others have tried to tone them down. Many say they are impractical. And scores of people simply ignore them and pretend they aren't even there.

Thankfully though, more than one commentator on this passage said something like this. Something, I have found quite helpful. They have said:

We do a disservice to Jesus and to his words if we diminish, discount, or otherwise dismiss what he says here. This text calls the church and the world to ask uncomfortable and fundamental questions about the way we choose to make our way in this world.

I feel I need to tell a personal story about my struggle with these words of Jesus.

This call to be a peacemaker, for me, is one of the deepest struggles I have had with the Christian faith and with Jesus' words. It's a struggle I have engaged with over the past 15 years

You see, I think if we are to take Jesus seriously, then we need to take his call to be peacemakers seriously. And even if we don't agree with how to live these words out, I think we really need to struggle with them, to listen to one another, and to let them challenge us.

It's been almost 14 years now since the horrific attacks of September 11th.

On that day, we all watched in shock, in fear, and many of us in rage, as our nation was held hostage by those who high-jacked our airplanes and sent them plunging into the Twin Towers of the World Trade Center.

The year that followed those attacks, saw a build up to a war in Afghanistan, to root out the training grounds of Islamic terrorists hiding in the mountains.

As that war was building up, I was preparing to enter seminary. I was also subscribing to an email publication by Sojourners, a Christian based organization which promotes the work of justice and peace.

Those Sojourner's e-mails kept coming and they kept promoting and calling me, as a Christian, to support the pursuit of peaceful means to the problems we were facing as a county. They kept on urging me to not support the war.

I'd read these e-mails and I'd think: Don't these yahoos have a clue about the reality of the facts on the ground? Don't they know that our nation has been attacked and we have to do something about it and we have to do it now?

One day I got so fed up with their e-mails, I sent off a fiery response telling them to get a grip and to take me off their e-mail list because their anti-war position was not grounded in reality.

And yet, even as I fired off that e-mail, I knew deep down in some significant way, I was struggling to hear and to heed Jesus' call and his words, “Blessed are the peacemakers for they will be called the children of God.”

“Do not repay evil for evil.”

“Turn the other cheek.”

“If someone asks for your shirt, give them your coat also.”

Jesus words kept nagging at me. Day in and day out.

I struggled with those words so much that, by the time our nation began to buildup to the next war that followed, the war on Iraq, I'd finally come to the conclusion that as a Christian I could no longer support the aims of war.

I realize Christians of good conscious can and will disagree with that. As you might.

I'm not trying to tell anyone what is right or wrong. I realize too that we all have friends or loved ones who were involved in those wars, or that you, yourself may have sacrificially served our country in the military.

But I still have to say, Jesus' words here should make us uncomfortable and we should struggle with them.

No matter what position you or I may have on that war, or on any other war, I simply can't comfortably get around the fact that if we are to be serious about our faith, then we are called to honestly and continually struggle with Jesus' call to be makers of peace.

Personally, I think our biggest impediment to becoming people of peace is that we have such a hard time imagining another world. We are so deeply rooted in a world or violence, revenge, retaliation, and securing ourselves from all danger that we simply have a hard time imagining another world.

And yet that is what Jesus calls us to do.

One purpose of this text is to help disciples exercise their Moral Imagination.

Those who would seek to follow Jesus are challenged to see that a better world might be possible by giving up our human tendency to return violence with violence, to seek revenge and retribution for evil done to us, or to solely value the protection of what seems rightfully ours.

I love how one person who wrote about this passage said Jesus is calling us to be a “Surprising Person.”

Jesus calls us to confront the one who does evil with a surprising non-violent response; to turn the other cheek, to go the second mile, to hand someone our coat as well as the shirt they have sued us for.

Personally, I love stories that help me imagine another world. I love when they reveal to me people who are surprising and who refuse to live and function as much of the rest of the world functions.

One such story comes to mind from a movie, “To End All Wars”

If you've not seen it, I highly recommend it. It's quite a remarkable film and one of the best in a long time to show the power of Christian faith to overcome tragic circumstances.

The movie tells the mostly true story of a group of Allied Prisoners of War captured by the Japanese during World War II. They were forced under brutal & downright awful treatment to build a railroad through the jungles of Thailand.

Some of the POWs spent their time and energy fostering hatred of their captors and developing a plan to escape the camp. Others realized the futility of that way and instead worked the best they could to accept their condition.

One of the prisoners, Major Campbell, wants an "eye for an eye.”

He encourages his fellow prisoners to resist everything asked of them by their captors and to use every opportunity to plan their escape. The major holds dearly to the belief that they must fuel their hope for survival by nurturing hatred for their enemy.

In the end, Major Campbell's life is spared, but his philosophy of revenge and willingness to fuel his enmity against his captors ends up destroying his very soul.

In stark contrast is Dusty Miller, a Roman Catholic prisoner.

Dusty lives by a different code. He makes a positive difference in the lives of his fellow prisoners through simple acts of kindness, love and sacrifice. His faith gives him a peace beyond measure in spite of horrible circumstances.

Dusty and a fellow POW start a school for their fellow prisoners. Other POWs step up to teach and pretty soon scores of men in the prison camp are learning philosophy, ethics, Shakespeare, and even playing music in a makeshift orchestra.

At first the school is kept a secret because the prisoners are not allowed to gather in groups, but when the Japanese learn of what's happening they discover the school is making the prisoners better workers in the effort to complete the railroad. So, they publicly encourage the school's efforts.

I won't tell you much more about the film other than to say the actor who plays Dusty does a remarkable job of portraying him as a gentle man full of a deep and abiding peace. A sense of peace exudes in everything he says and does.

That, I think, is the real essence in what Jesus is asking of those who follow him.

Does a sense of peace exude in everything you say and do?

Are you willing to show mercy to others, just as God has shown you grace and mercy?

Are you willing to be disarmed and disarming knowing that Christ did the exact same for you?

Does a sense of trust in God, in God's provision, in God's will and purpose – no matter what the circumstance might be - drive you in how you live your life?

If so, then friends, in the words of that famous blessing, may you:

Go out into the world in peace:

have courage;

hold on to what is good;

return no one evil for evil;

help the suffering;

honor all;

love and serve the Lord,

rejoicing in the power of the Holy Spirit.

And the blessing of God Almighty,

the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit,

   be upon you, and remain with you forever. Amen.

Sermon: Claiming our Calling

Claiming Our Calling

A sermon delivered during worship at the Stated Meeting of East Iowa Presbytery on June 9th, 2015

Scripture Text: Numbers 11

In case you haven't picked up on this yet, let me let you in on a little secret:

It's a different world out there.

That's right. The world's a whole lot different than it was twenty or thirty years ago. Or even than it was five or ten years ago.

Things are rapidly changing. For example:

Whenever I travel down to Iowa City or to Lone Tree, I drive by my friend's CSA called Morning Glory just outside of Mount Vernon.

The farm is owned and operated by Donna Warhover.

Donna is the wife of Bill, one of our minister members in our Presbytery and who is now known, simply, as Donna's farm hand.

CSAs are a relatively new idea. The initials stand for Community Supported Agriculture.

The idea is that you purchase a share to support the work of the farm and each week during the summer you receive a share of that week's harvest.

You pitch in your funds to share in the cost of operating the farm. At the same time you also share in both the risk and reward that is part of growing crops.

So if the strawberries are eaten by bugs or the pepper plants are beaten down by the wind, well then I'm sorry but no strawberry shortcake or stuffed peppers for you!!

Or if there is bumper crop of potatoes, well then, you'd better get busy making a batch of those tasty party potatoes for the church potluck.

Or if you get diakon radishes which you've never even heard of or seen before - then you better get on the internet and google it so you can find a recipe to use them up.

A CSA is also hands-on.

Nearly every time I drive by the farm, someone is out there volunteering to do some work.

Our son Teddy loves to spend a Saturday morning or afternoon helping Donna on the farm in any way he can. He comes away feeling good and proud of himself for helping out.

I help out too but don't expect to see me weeding. Instead I'm probably out there grilling some mean pork chops to feed the tired and hungry farmers.

Sometimes a bigger group from say, Camp Wyoming, Good Will, or the local Presbyterian Church comes to help plant crops, or pull weeds, or any other sort of odd jobs that need to be done that week.

This kind of ownership and buy-in on a highly personal level - for something as basic as growing food - is one trend we're seeing in society.

We want to know were our eggs come from. We want our money and resources to go back into our communities and local economies. And sometimes we're even willing to put in a little sweat equity and become active participants in the process.

Oh and by the way, if you want to purchase a share to Morning Glory, it's not too late! Just give Bill or Donna a call. You've only missed one week and I think they have 5 or 6 shares left for this year.

And no, I did not getting paid for this advertisement.

This kind of hands-on, highly participatory venture is as it should be in the church as well.

Things are rapidly changing in our culture. Many are worried that the church is not, and an awful lot of handwringing goes along with this. Maybe you see the same articles I see weekly on social media:

• 4 reasons the church is dying, or
• The Duggars, the Jenners, and the growing exodus from Christianity
• The rise of the “Dones” - who are leaving the church to save their faith, or
• Why the millennials really could care less about your church.

I could go on. But, instead, I'll just let Facebook continue to do its job. I guarantee you: tomorrow or the next day you'll see yet another article diagnosing some ill of our churches or our faith.

Now of course, to some extent it's quite okay to come face to face these dis-concerting realities.

Especially since we know from our own experience that:

Church budgets are shrinking.

As recent as ten years ago, we had ten or so associate pastor positions in our presbytery. Now we're down to two.

Many of our smaller churches are shifting from full time pastorates to part time, or to CREs or, simply to regular pulpit supply in order to keep the Sunday Worship service going.

Likewise our Presbytery is undergoing changes.

Changes in our governance structure. Changes in the amount of money available to complete our mission. Changes in staff. And changes in how we seek to go about our purpose.

Even so - in the midst of all these challenges - I don't believe it's time for handwringing. Or maybe I should say handwringing isn't what you and I are called to in this time and place.

Instead, I believe it's time to step up and claim our calling. It's time to re-committ ourselves to the God-ordained roles God has called each one of us to.

I love the story of Moses from Numbers 11, but I'd like to switch it up a bit and recast it, so hopefully we can hear its principles in a fresh new way.

So, hear now this modern day retelling...

When the people complained in the hearing of the Lord about the difficulties their churches were facing. About the trouble they were having with their Teaching Elders. About the way the church used to be but is no longer. About how they wished they got more help from the Presbytery, the Lord was disappointed.

The Teaching Elders went also and complained to the Lord. About how the people in the pew just don't get it and how they better get on board soon before its too late. And about how they wished the Presbytery was more attentive to the difficulty of their situation.

The Teaching Elders said to the Lord, “Why have you treated us so badly, why have you saddled us with these people and with these dwindling churches which are such a burden to us?

How are we supposed to deal with all of this?”

Then the Lord said to the Teaching Elders, “Gather me your leaders, those elders whom I've already given to you in order to journey with you. Stop thinking the burden of carrying the church is yours alone and it's all up to you. Pray for the Sprit's work in your midst, so that the burden of the people will be shared among all of you.”

And when all the Elders, both Teaching and Ruling, were gathered together, the Lord said to them, “The Spirit is upon each of you. Teaching Elders don't have all the answers, nor are they perfect. They are not your savior. The Presbytery also doesn't have all the answers.

Instead, each of you commit to the work to which you are called, both in your churches and in the Presbytery. If each of you seek to carry a share of the burden, to put aside your own agendas, and grievances, then together you can begin to discern the work of my Spirit in your midst.

You, your churches, your Presbytery, will find new life and will find new and bold ways to fulfill my mission and ministry in your midst, in your communities, in East Iowa, and around the world.

My friends, the truth is, we already have a highly participatory structure; teaching and ruling elders together make up the leadership of the church. Teaching and ruling elders together make up the leadership of the Presbytery.

And we already have a calling.

We are already commissioned to lead and to guide, to work together with one another to discern God's Spirit, and to do the work of God's great mission and a ministry both within our churches and through our presbytery.

So, please, in the church...

Teaching Elders stop carrying the burden alone. Find ways to get your ruling elders engaged in discipleship, spiritual formation, and more involved in leadership. And ruling elders pray for, encourage, and support your Teaching Elders.

And each of you together, dream big dreams. Take time to discern the work of the Spirit in your midst. Don't be afraid to make little changes that will lead to little successes – or, yes, even to failures - so that bigger changes become less scary and daunting.

And, in the presbytery?

We are not perfect at all.

But if each of us seeks to play a part, then friends, we can move this presbytery in the right direction, we can restore a more participatory structure, we can do the hard work of reconciling differences and learning to trust each other once again. We can better involve people in decision making at all levels.

The truth of the matter is that the presbytery is made up of each one of us, so each one of us has a responsibility – a calling - to step up and help make it work. To become the support structure and an aide in helping churches fulfill Christ's call to ministry.

And to what end?

So that together, as teaching and ruling elders we might lead the church to faithfully fulfill the calling of its great ends:

• The proclamation of the gospel for the salvation of humankind
• The shelter, nurture, and spiritual fellowship of the children of God
• The maintenance of divine worship
• The preservation of the truth
• The promotion of social righteousness
• The exhibition of the Kingdom of Heaven to the world

To the praise and glory of God, creator, redeemer, sustainer, now and forever, Amen.  

Sermon on the Mount: Salt & Light

A sermon preached at United Presbyterian Church in Lonetree, Iowa on April 12, 2015 from Matthew 5:13-17. 

A few weeks ago while preaching on the beatitudes I stated that Christendom is over.

What we see now is that:

• Leaders of the church are no longer admired. Any mention of them only seems to happen when they are exposed for unseemly behavior.

• The ideas and notions of the church are no longer given preference in society. In fact, those on the extreme ends of our faith are lifted up by others as caricatures to be made fun of.

• The church has become just another extra-curricular activity. It's no longer central to family life or to the formation of our kids.

For many of us this is hard news to swallow. The church and its role in society no longer works like we think it should or how we've always seen it work.

If this is news to you or if this is a new idea to you, I hope you won't simply dismiss it. I hope you will take some time to think about it, talk about it, read about it, and ask what it means for the church.

I hope you'll do that because I think it's vitally important for us to grasp this new reality. I'm convinced if the church doesn't work out the implications of this change, then the future of the church – at least as we have known it – will be bleak.

That's not to say that Christianity itself is in trouble. Our faith will always be around, I'm sure of that.

But how we express that faith will not stay the same. It will change and adapt. And it's already been doing just that in different ways and places around the world.

To help us in that work, I think the Sermon on the Mount is the perfect text for a church pushed to the side of culture.

It reminds us of the truth of who we are and who we are called to be. And it gives us a map to make our way in the reality of this new world.

But before we can see how it's message is relevant to us today, we need to consider its message for the early followers of Jesus.

They were simple folks who lived simple lives: fishermen, homemakers, tax collectors, tent makers, and fabric makers and assorted others from around the edges of the Roman Empire.

According to the values of their world, they didn't amount to much. They were nothing special. They weren't the sorts of folks you would think would make much of a difference in the world.

And their world told them that too.

They were after all, subjects in the Roman Empire, which dominated its conquered peoples and - in order to keep them from rebelling - convinced them they had little value and no power.

To them, the message of Jesus was simple:

You are salt. You are light and even more pointedly: You are “indispensable...as indispensable as salt or as light.”

Back then, those would have been encouraging words for Jesus' followers.

They too are encouraging words for those of us who might feel sidelined or marginalized. For those of us who might wonder how we are to be the church in the world in which we find ourselves.

I want you to take note that in this passage:

Jesus does not say, "If you want to become salt and light, here's how you do it...."

He does not say, "before I can call you salt and light, I need to see this from you...."

He also doesn't say: “You will be salt” or “You should be salt”

Instead he says, “You ARE the salt of the earth. You ARE the light of the world”

It's as if Jesus says: You can't become those things. You can't stop being those things. You simply are those things.

Now, it's true Jesus goes on to say that salt which loses its saltiness is useless and that light wasn't made to be put under a bushel. Which might imply that there is a threat behind Jesus words

This passage has certainly been interpreted that way.

But really, who has ever heard of salt that loses its saltiness? Or how many people actually put a lit candle under a bushel basket?

Those things just don't happen.

I think, all we should read in these words is a blessing and a commission:

"You are the salt of the earth! You are the light of the world! That's the way it is and that's the way it will always be. Period."

A few weeks ago, my wife and I attended the NEXT Church conference at Fourth Presbyterian Church in Downtown Chicago.

During my time there, I heard many great stories about what is happening around the church: Music programs with neighborhood schools. New ministries among those who are disabled. Work being done to bridge the racial divide.

A lot of great stuff.

However, as encouraging as it was to hear those sorts of things, I struggled with my time there because the conference mostly featured folks from fairly large, prominent, and well-resourced congregations mostly located in big cities and wealthy suburbs.

Which is a far cry from Lonetree, Iowa.

It's a far cry from the types of churches I've been a part of for most of my life. These are not the type of churches I've ever felt called to serve in my own ministry.

I came away a little discouraged and depressed. And admittedly a little jealous and envious. I even felt a little bit like I don't have much to offer to impact the world in a meaningful way.

The good news, however, is that in the past week, my faith has been renewed. And it's this chuch here in Lonetree that has helped renew that faith.

It's true, we may be located in a little town of 1,500 located in the corn fields of rural Iowa. We may not be a well-resourced congregation. We may not be flashy and we may not be out there doing innovative, cutting edge stuff.

But the truth remains: “We are salt and we are light.” And we are making and we continue to be called to make a difference in our world.

You see, over the past several weeks. I have seen you let your light shine, I have seen you be the salt of the earth.

I have seen faithful disciples gathered in worship on a joyful Easter Sunday sharing the good news of the resurrection: Over a hundred of us gathered here!

I have seen faithful disciples care for those in need through the Food Bank and through preparing Easter Baskets.

I have seen faithful disciples loving and nurturing the children and youth in this community, giving them a place to hang out, have fun, and to hear God's word and to come to know God.

I have seen faithful disciples visiting the elderly and sharing the good news of God's love and peace with those society has often left behind.

I have see faithful disciples share their resources to help kids have a summer camp experience.

I have heard stories of you caring for the sick and those in need, of sharing the good news through a new website, and connecting the gospel to kids using the sorts of technology they naturally gravitate towards.

There is so much more which I'm sure I've failed to mention. And there's even more going on that I am simply not aware of.

I'm certain there are ways that each one of you is being Salt and Light in the world, in the places where you live, work, and play.

The truth of the matter is this:

Our success as disciples of Jesus is not measured by the world's standards.

It's not about returning the church to the center of culture, or once again becoming a prominent, well-attended congregation. If that's what we are striving for then I'm afraid we are working towards the wrong goals.

Instead our call is to live out in humility who it is we really are: Salt of the earth and Light of the world.

And to be so in both word and deed, not to give glory to ourselves, but so others might see and all would give glory and praise to God, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.

Now and forever.

Amen.

Rev. Christine Chakoian in Feasting on the Word and Rev. David Lose at Working Preacher provided some primary points of inspiration.