Month: April 2011

Rejecting Rejection: An Easter Sermon

On By J. Barrett LeeIn Sermon1 Comment
The Risen Christ by He Qi

My first Easter sermon at First Presbyterian, Boonville.  The text is Matthew 28:1-10.

Philip Gulley and James Mulholland tell a story in their book, If Grace Is True (HarperCollins: 2003), about a scene that is probably familiar to all of us (especially those of us who are parents).  It goes like this:

When I was about five years old, I demanded my mother buy me a certain toy.  She refused, explaining she didn’t have the money.

I recall flying into a rage and screaming, “I hate you!”

My mother was utterly unperturbed.  She didn’t spank me and send me to my room, though that would have been understandable.  She didn’t break into tears.  She didn’t drag me to a therapist.  She most certainly didn’t buy the toy.  She simply said, “Well, I love you, and your hate can’t change my love.”  (p.110)

I think most of us have been there, am I right?  If you haven’t experienced it firsthand, you’ve probably seen something like it in public.  As the father of a two-year-old, I’m intimately familiar with what goes through a parent’s head in a moment like that.  I worry about making a scene.  I wonder what other people must be thinking about me as a parent.  I’m scared that, no matter what I do, I might be psychologically scarring my child for life.

But when I see other parents dealing with similar meltdowns in public, I don’t judge them.  In fact, my heart goes out to them.  I don’t think they’re bad parents.  I see others like me who are just doing the best they can in a difficult moment.  The only parents I worry about are the ones who return the rage in kind.  You know what I’m talking about.  All of us lose our cool with our kids on occasion, but it’s pretty obvious when a parent in public crosses the line verbally or physically.  In the effort to maintain control of the situation, they lose control of themselves.  Those are the parents that other people tend to worry about.

Imagine what people would think if the mother in Gulley and Mulholland’s story had shouted, “I hate you, too!” and stormed out of the store, leaving this five-year-old little kid to find his own way home.  We would be horrified!  We would run to the child’s aid and probably call the police.  We would say that such a mother deserves to be locked up in jail.

Unfortunately, there are those among Christians past and present who believe that this is exactly how God behaves.  Those who turn their backs on God, so they say, are doomed for eternity.  Those who reject God will be rejected by God.  They claim that God, who is infinitely holy and righteous, must respect the freewill of these unrepentant sinners and allow them to receive exactly what they deserve.  Most Christians who believe this can quote lots of Bible verses to support their position.

What I can’t understand is this: if we would call the police on any human mother who abandoned her child in that way, then why wouldn’t we do the same for a parental deity who abandons even one of God’s children to eternal torment?  Why should we worship God for doing that for which we would incarcerate a human?  It doesn’t make sense.

Fortunately for us, that is not the God who we worship.  The God of love revealed in Jesus Christ is more like the mother in the first story from Gulley and Mulholland’s book.  When we scream, “I hate you!” at God, God responds, “Well, I love you, and your hate can’t change my love.”  This God rejects the rejection of the rebellious children.

This God would rather leave the ninety-nine sheep in the field to go search for the one who is lost.  Jesus tells us in Luke 15 that this good shepherd searches until that lost sheep is found and carries it home rejoicing.  Jesus teaches his followers to love their enemies because that’s what God does.  He says, in Matthew 5:44-45,

Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be children of your Father in heaven; for God makes the sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the righteous and on the unrighteous.

Not only did Jesus teach us about God’s love, he showed it to us in the way that he unconditionally accepted the most messed-up and undesirable people of his day as members of his own family.

More than any other story in the scriptures, the story of Jesus’ death and resurrection shows us just how far God is willing to go in order to reject our rejection.  Last Sunday, and then again on Good Friday, we heard the story of how the powers that be in the world rejected Jesus.  The political and religious authorities wanted to shut him up.  His closest disciples betrayed, denied, and abandoned him.  Last week, we also looked at the hard fact that you and I are really no different from the crowds who shouted, “Hosanna!” on Palm Sunday and “Crucify!” only five days later on Good Friday.  The cross stands as a reminder of the lengths to which we, the people of this world, will go in order to reject Jesus.  Like five-year-olds throwing temper tantrums, we scream, “I hate you!” to God at the top of our lungs.  With all our pretended power, we lash out with the very worst torture and death that we can muster.  Intoxicated by our ability to inflict death, we delude ourselves into thinking that we’re so strong.  We can even make God go away… permanently!

But then, on the third day, on that first Easter Sunday, something happened.  It says in today’s reading from Matthew that there was an earthquake.  Matthew is the only one of the four gospels to record this fact.  What does it mean?  I like to think it means that something fundamental at the very heart of reality shifted in that moment.  The power of life overcame the power of death.  The very worst of human hatred was undone by the very best of God’s love.  In the cross, the world rejected Jesus Christ.  But in the resurrection, God rejected the world’s rejection.  This is what Easter is all about!

As if this weren’t enough, look again at what happens in verse 10.  Jesus appears to the two Marys and gives them a message for his “brothers” (meaning the twelve disciples).  Remember that the last time we saw any of them in Matthew was in 26:56, when they were all running away from Jesus in his hour of need.  They rejected him.  But the risen Jesus nevertheless calls them “brothers” and invites them to return to the mission they had begun together.  He rejected their rejection.

This is (very) good news for people like me who struggle with our loyalty to God.  If God were to respect my freewill and give me what I deserve (and sometimes ask for), I would be abandoned like a five-year-old in a department store with no way home.  I am thankful that God does not respect my freewill, but goes out of the way to seek after me until I am found.  I am thankful that God has rejected my rejection.

What does this mean for all of us?

Maybe you are a Christian, but you struggle with things like sin and doubt.  Well, the good news for you is that you don’t have to impress God with your morals or your dogma.  The only thing for you to do, in the words of the theologian Paul Tillich, is “accept the fact that you are accepted.”

Maybe you’re here today and you’re not a Christian.  Maybe you want to believe in something, but can’t wrap your mind around some theological point or maybe you’re sickened by the judgmental hypocrisy of those who call themselves Christians.  The good news for you is that the God of love revealed in Jesus Christ is not the cold-hearted and small-minded bookkeeper of conventional religion.  The God I believe in is not standing at a distance, waiting to burn you in hell.  My God is just as angry about the pretended piety of so-called “saints” to which you have borne witness.  Likewise, God is not threatened by honest questions on a quest for truth.

Whatever your individual struggle may be, what I want you to take away from this Easter is that, in the resurrection of Jesus, God has rejected your rejection.  Sure, you might kick and scream like a kid having a tantrum.  You might even deny God’s existence or yell, “I hate you!” to the empty sky, but in those moments, the God I believe in just holds you that much tighter with an eternal love that will not let you go.

Tina Fey: Prayer for a Daughter

On By J. Barrett LeeIn Uncategorized1 Comment

OK, this has absolutely nothing to do with ministry on the street or marginal theology, but it has to do with Tina Fey and spirituality, so it is therefore blog-worthy.  I’m the father of a daughter, so I can relate to much of this.  This passage is originally from Tina’s new book, Bossypants, but I nabbed it from Babble.com:

Prayer for a Daughter

Tina Fey

First, Lord: No tattoos. May neither Chinese symbol for truth nor Winnie-the-Pooh holding the FSU logo stain her tender haunches.

May she be Beautiful but not Damaged, for it’s the Damage that draws the creepy soccer coach’s eye, not the Beauty.

When the Crystal Meth is offered, May she remember the parents who cut her grapes in half And stick with Beer.

Guide her, protect her
When crossing the street, stepping onto boats, swimming in the ocean, swimming in pools, walking near pools, standing on the subway platform, crossing 86th Street, stepping off of boats, using mall restrooms, getting on and off escalators, driving on country roads while arguing, leaning on large windows, walking in parking lots, riding Ferris wheels, roller-coasters, log flumes, or anything called “Hell Drop,” “Tower of Torture,” or “The Death Spiral Rock ‘N Zero G Roll featuring Aerosmith,” and standing on any kind of balcony ever, anywhere, at any age.

Lead her away from Acting but not all the way to Finance. Something where she can make her own hours but still feel intellectually fulfilled and get outside sometimes And not have to wear high heels.

What would that be, Lord? Architecture? Midwifery? Golf course design? I’m asking You, because if I knew, I’d be doing it, Youdammit.

May she play the Drums to the fiery rhythm of her Own Heart with the sinewy strength of her Own Arms, so she need Not Lie With Drummers.

Grant her a Rough Patch from twelve to seventeen. Let her draw horses and be interested in Barbies for much too long, For childhood is short – a Tiger Flower blooming Magenta for one day – And adulthood is long and dry-humping in cars will wait.

O Lord, break the Internet forever, That she may be spared the misspelled invective of her peers And the online marketing campaign for Rape Hostel V: Girls Just Wanna Get Stabbed.

And when she one day turns on me and calls me a Bitch in front of Hollister, Give me the strength, Lord, to yank her directly into a cab in front of her friends, For I will not have that Shit. I will not have it.

And should she choose to be a Mother one day, be my eyes, Lord, that I may see her, lying on a blanket on the floor at 4:50 A.M., all-at-once exhausted, bored, and in love with the little creature whose poop is leaking up its back.

“My mother did this for me once,” she will realize as she cleans feces off her baby’s neck. “My mother did this for me.” And the delayed gratitude will wash over her as it does each generation and she will make a Mental Note to call me. And she will forget. But I’ll know, because I peeped it with Your God eyes.

Amen.

Beyond Bunnies: Anne Lamott on Easter

On By J. Barrett LeeIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

Hey all,

I heard this on NPR yesterday and thought it was blog-worthy.  If you haven’t experienced Anne Lamott before, I highly recommend all of her books, especially Traveling Mercies: Some Thoughts on Faith.

If you have five minutes, I recommend listening to the interview, rather than reading it.

Click here to read and/or listen on NPR’s website.

Click the image below to see Traveling Mercies on Amazon.com:

From “Hosanna” to “Crucify” in Five Easy Steps!

On By J. Barrett LeeIn Sermon1 Comment

Here is the Palm/Passion Sunday sermon from First Presbyterian, Boonville.

The texts are Matthew 21:1-11 and Matthew 27:11-54.

I’d like to paint a verbal picture for you.  Think of how you would feel if you bore witness to an event such as this:

Imagine that Air Force One lands in town.  The crowd goes wild as the President gets off the plane and walks down a red carpet, flanked by a crowd of people waving American flags.  The TV news cameras are rolling as the band strikes up “Hail to the Chief”.  The President is shaking hands and kissing babies as he goes by.  After a moment, the band starts to play “The Star-Spangled Banner”.  Everyone stops what they’re doing and turns to face the flag with hands over their hearts.  Now, imagine that all of this is happening on the 4th of July.

Can you imagine how the people in this Independence Day crowd that day might feel?  If so, then you can imagine how the people felt in the crowd on that first Palm Sunday, when Jesus rode into Jerusalem.  It was a quintessentially Jewish moment.  I mean this, not just in a religious sense, but in a national sense as well.

Let’s look at the details:

First, Jesus rides into town riding a donkey with her colt.  This is exactly how the Jewish prophet Zechariah said that God’s Messiah would come.  The Jews believed that the Messiah (“Anointed One” in Hebrew) would be a mighty king who would liberate Israel from foreign tyranny so the people could live and worship in freedom.  Next, we learn that the people were making use of palm branches as they saw him coming.  This is not a random choice.  The palm tree was a national symbol for Jews in the first century.  This would be like people waving all kinds of American flags as the President drove by.  Also, people were shouting, “Hosanna!”  This comes from a Hebrew word that literally means, “Save us, please!”  It would be like people shouting “Liberty” or “Freedom Now” in our country.  This phrase, along with “blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord”, is part of Psalm 118, an old hymn for Jews.  Finally, all of this was happening on the week before Passover, the greatest of holidays.  Passover, for Jews, was not just a religious holiday; it was also a national holiday.  During Passover, Jews told and retold the story of how they came to be who they are as a nation of God’s chosen people.  It was like celebrating the 4th of July for Jews.

So, when all of this happened at once (donkey, palm branches, Hosanna, and Passover), this crowd of people got really excited.  They thought that big changes were about to happen for them and their country!  However, we know that this excitement didn’t last very long.  Fast forward to five days later and the same people who were shouting, “Hosanna!  Hosanna!” had started shouting, “Crucify!  Crucify!” about the exact same person.  What could have gone so wrong during those five lousy days?  Personally, it makes me glad that our elected officials get at least one full term in office before people want to hang them out to dry!

I think the answer to what went wrong that week lies in the excitement we see in the people at the beginning of the week.  Excitement is great.  It gets people motivated.  It makes them feel good about themselves.  But it has a dark side.  Whenever people get super-excited about something, it usually means that they have some pretty big expectations to go with it.  And people definitely had some serious expectations about Jesus as their Messiah.

They wanted their Messiah to be a military commander, a political administrator, and a spiritual guide (at the same time).  That’s a lot to ask of one person, but it’s what they expected (and they weren’t going to budge on any of it).  When Jesus showed up, they certainly had mixed feelings about him.  On the one hand, he healed the sick, challenged the powers-that-be, and radically reinterpreted the Torah (their Bible).  On the other hand, he refused to take up arms and talked instead about suffering and forgiveness.  What kind of “Messiah” was this?

Their confusion lasted right up until the end of Jesus’ ministry.  On Palm Sunday, it looked as if their dreams were about to come true: Jesus was acting exactly like a Messiah should.  By Good Friday, it looked as if all their hopes were dashed: Jesus was acting nothing like a Messiah should.  The great irony is that Jesus really was their Messiah (at least, that’s what we Christians believe), but his idea of Messiah was very different from theirs.  He really did wear a crown, but it was a crown of thorns.  He really was hailed as “King of the Jews”, but it was written on a sign posted above his cross.  He really did gain victory over his enemies, but it was a victory of love and not a victory of violence.

It’s easy for us to look back and chuckle at the people’s flawed expectations of Jesus as Messiah.  We have the luxury of knowing what comes next (on Easter Sunday).  They didn’t.

But I think the question is worth asking: do we have flawed expectations of Jesus as our Messiah?  Do we think we have all the answers about Jesus figured out?  Have we put him in a safe little box that conforms to our own pre-conceived notions about the world?  The tendency I’ve noticed is that, if you ask people to describe Jesus, they’ll probably describe someone who is simply a bigger and better version of themselves.  For them, Jesus is American, Middle-class, Conservative/Liberal, Presbyterian, or Christian.

The challenge of Lent, as a season of penitence, is for us to realize that Jesus is none of those things.  He is Holy (which means “different” or “special”).  He rises above the categories and ideologies that we would impose on him.

But we, like the crowds on Palm Sunday, still come with our excitement and our expectations.  But, as Jesus fails to live up to our expectations, our excitement turns to confusion, confusion to disappointment, and disappointment to anger.  So that, by the end of the week, we too stand with that crowd, screaming, “Crucify!  Crucify!”

Yes, the challenge of Lent is for us to let Jesus break out of the box that we have put him in.  The challenge is to let go of those categories and those old ways of thinking.  But the hard fact of the matter is that we have failed to do so.  In spite of our best Lenten disciplines, in spite of the chocolate we didn’t eat or the TV we didn’t watch, in spite of our honest reflection and repentance during these forty days, in spite of all those things: we would still crucify him again.  He would still shock and offend our expectations to the point where we would use any means necessary to shut him up.  Our shouts of “Hosanna in the highest!” are no more lasting or genuine than the shouts of those people who lived in first-century Jerusalem.

That’s the harsh reality, but it’s not the end of the story.  That part comes next week.  If you want to hear it, I guess you’ll have to show up!  But for now, I’ll just offer this as a foretaste of the Easter gospel:

Jesus knew what was in hearts of those people.  He knew what they were going to do to him, but that didn’t stop him.  He still drew close to them.  He welcomed their praises, shallow as they were.  He loved them, even though they would come to hate him.

As it was with that crowd so it is with us.  As faithless as we are, Jesus still draws near to us… and loves us.

Jesus Gets His Hands Dirty

On By J. Barrett LeeIn Sermon2 Comments

Last week’s sermon from First Pres, Boonville.

The text is John 9:1-41.

One of the most annoying things about Jesus is that, when you ask him a question, you almost never get the kind of answer you expected.  He has this way of turning questions on their head.  His response tends to shed more light on the person asking the question than it does on the issue at hand.  Such is the case in today’s gospel reading.

The scene opens with Jesus and his disciples encountering a blind man while they are in Jerusalem for a religious holiday.  As they pass by, one of them asks a question that has plagued philosophers for thousands of years:  “What is the nature of suffering and evil?”

This question is especially troubling to those of us who believe in God.  People have come up with all kinds of theories that try to find an answer.  Some suggest that God is loving but not almighty.  In other words, God cares about suffering but cannot do anything about it.  Others say that God is almighty but not loving.  God could solve the world’s problems but just doesn’t care.  Finally, some suggest that God is both loving and almighty, but that all suffering is merely an illusion or a misunderstanding on our part.

For Jews in Jesus’ day, the most common answer was judicial.  They believed that everything happens for a reason.  If someone was happy, healthy, and prosperous, then that person was being blessed and rewarded by God.  If someone was suffering, then that person was being punished for their sins.  This judicial theory is probably what Jesus’ disciples had in mind when they asked, “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?”

Even though they had their own pet theory to explain why this person was suffering, it didn’t answer all their questions.  In fact, their pet theory left them with quite a dilemma.  You see, the man in question had been blind from birth.  There was no way he could have violated Jewish law before the onset of his blindness.  Therefore, God was either punishing this person for someone else’s sin or God was punishing this person for a sin that had not yet been committed.  Either way, God comes across as unfair.

Jesus doesn’t resolve this dilemma for them.  He lets it stand out like a hole in the middle of a donut.  He says, “Neither this man nor his parents sinned; he was born blind so that God’s works might be revealed in him.”  Rather than taking a side in this debate, Jesus once again turns the entire question on its head.  He says, in effect, “You’re asking the wrong question.”  His response seems cryptic and mysterious because Jesus is answering the question they should have been asking all along.  He continues, “We must work the works of him who sent me while it is day; night is coming when no one can work.  5As long as I am in the world, I am the light of the world.”

What does that mean?  It means that Jesus is trying to shift their attention.  He’s saying, if you really want to look for God in the midst of these tragic situations, don’t waste your time looking at the cause of the pain; look instead at the response to the pain.  The most important thing, to Jesus, is that we be doing God’s work.  And what’s the very next thing he does?  The text says, “he spat on the ground and made mud with the saliva and spread the mud on the man’s eyes”.  In other words: Jesus got his hands dirty.  While other people were standing around and arguing about philosophy, Jesus was busy healing those who hurt most.

But the scene doesn’t stop there.  The recently-healed blind man quickly became the center of controversy in Jerusalem.  This time, the debate was all about whether Jesus had the proper credentials to work such a miracle.  Witnesses were called while scholars debated back and forth about the issue.  All the while, the healed person is stuck in the middle.  He doesn’t have any answers.  He was probably still using his brand new eyes to figure out the difference between red and blue.  When they push him, he says, “I do not know whether [Jesus] is a sinner. One thing I do know, that though I was blind, now I see.”  He stays true to his experience and simply tells the world what happened to him.

Eventually, it becomes pretty clear to this guy that he is simply a pawn being used in someone else’s religious and political agenda.  What I like best about this guy is his moxy (chutzpah).  Once he realizes what’s going on, he’s not content to play his part and go home.  No, he stands up and gives them a piece of his mind.  In more ways than one, his eyes were open.  Better than anyone else in the room, this “ex-blind man” was seeing things clearly.  So he stands up to this room full of rabbis and tells them off!

Well, these rabbis weren’t used to being spoken to like that!  After hurling a few choice insults about the nature of this man’s parentage, they voted unanimously to kick him out of the synagogue.  He was anathema, excommunicated, dis-fellowshipped, dishonorably discharged, and “don’t let the door hit you in the rump on your way out!”

So, there he was.  His situation seemed hopeless.  For years, he had been excluded from the life of his community because of his disability.  Now, he was kicked out and called a heretic.  What was he supposed to do now?  He probably felt further away from God than ever before.

I love that Jesus decides to show up again at this point in the story.  It says, “Jesus heard that they had driven him out, and… found him”.  Then Jesus affirms what the blind man had suspected all along: that he could “see” better than any of those rabbis and scholars.  In spite of their educated debate over this controversy, they had completely missed the point about what Jesus was doing.  But this blind man got it, and Jesus wanted to make sure that he knew it.  Jesus said, “I came into this world… so that those who do not see may see, and those who do see may become blind.”  Once again, Jesus makes sure that those who fall through the cracks of controversy and debate find their honored place in heaven’s economy.  The pawns become the kings.  The victims become the heroes.  Jesus shows us that these suffering and forgotten people are the ones who matter most to God.

For the past month or so, the world has been watching in horror at the multiple disasters that have befallen the country of Japan.  As if earthquake and tsunami weren’t enough, people are now facing the perils of radiation and nuclear meltdown.  The death toll has almost reached 12,000.

In times like this, many people instinctively search for answers in the midst of suffering.  They engage in controversy and philosophical debate because it’s easier than facing the reality of tragedy.  In the days immediately following the earthquake, one Christian blogger posted a statement in the style of the Old Testament prophets.  This person went on for quite a while, offering an itemized list of Japan’s sins.  The post read (speaking for God in the first person), “I will punish you for your sins with my passion, and destroy you completely Japan by earthquake and tsunami.  I will get you, the little island, back into the water, where you came from, and where you will be just like a piece of wrack (sic) sinking into the bottom of the sea.”

It’s easy to stand at a distance and pass judgment on an entire nation.  It’s harder to do as Jesus did: to get our hands dirty in the business of healing.  Our controversial issues and philosophical debates keep us at arm’s length from the suffering of our fellow human beings.  But Jesus goes out to meet these forgotten and suffering ones right where they are.

Thankfully, there are those who are doing just as Jesus did in the midst of this tragedy.  Earlier this week, I received an email from friends of my family in Japan.  It’s a statement made by an American living in Tokyo who is not a Christian.  He works in the Tokyo office of Goldman-Sachs.

Here is what the email said:

Friends

The response to the earthquake by many of the westerners here in Japan has been to head straight to the airport and get out of the country.

The Christian missionaries here have done just the opposite; they collect relief supplies and go straight to the disaster area to help out.

It is truly amazing what they have accomplished.

They collect supplies through donations from local citizens and international aid associations.

Then they get trucks, road permits and take the supplies to the 400,000 people who have lost their homes to the earthquake, tsunami and evacuations from the exclusion zone around the nuclear reactors.

Churches in the affected region are often used as distribution points.

Some of these churches have been damaged by the earthquake, and some are even without electricity.

This has been a 24/7 job for many of my missionary friends, but I have not heard a complaint from even one of them.

If someone were to ask me where I think God is in the midst of the Japanese tragedy, I would read them this letter.

When we go looking for God in the midst of suffering, whether it’s our own pain or the tragedy of an entire nation, let’s not get lost in philosophical debate over the causes.  Rather, let’s follow Jesus and get our hands dirty in the work of healing.  That’s where we’ll find God in all of this.