All Good Things

The Sermon Study Guide is here.

Hebrews 13:1-25

June 21, 2015 • Portage First UMC

Ten years ago today, on Father’s Day 2005, we first worshipped with you in this place. Christopher was fresh out of third grade, Rachel hadn’t started school yet but was already looking for a dance studio, and we had an old, blind and deaf cocker spaniel named Gideon. Oh, and Cathy and I both had far fewer gray hairs. June 19, 2005—I remember the day, because I had just turned 38 a week before and my gift was a new appointment. We had great anticipation when we came here, not having any idea what God would do in and among us over the next ten years. We came here already knowing several folks because of our involvement in Emmaus while we were at Brushwood, and so we sort of knew what we were getting ourselves into. But not really—because church is a different animal than the Walk to Emmaus. This was my third appointment. In my first church, I was an associate and had a senior pastor to cover for me. Then, I was the entire office staff at Brushwood, with my office in the parsonage. Then we came here, with a wonderful staff and, soon, a fantastic associate pastor. Still, I remember the first few days in the office wondering what I had gotten myself into. Preaching three services every Sunday, and each of them very different? What was I in for?

Probably some of you were wondering the same thing; maybe some of you still are! Together we have lived through the ups and downs of life, some days and some years better than others, and yet my hope is that we’ve continually and relentlessly focused on who we are called to be and what we are called to do: love God, love others and offer Jesus. Here we are: ten years later. I’m a little grayer, my hair is much shorter, and our family has changed. Christopher graduated with honors from Portage High School last year and has begun his college career at Purdue Calumet. He’ll be a junior this fall, due to the wonderful dual credits that Portage High School offers. Rachel was only a beginning dancer when we came here, but she has blossomed into an incredibly talented artist, as you got to see last week. And Gideon went to dog heaven while Hershey came to live with us seven years ago. Meanwhile, as of today, I’ve preached 424 sermons here (mostly three times each), visited many homes and hundreds of hospital rooms, eaten untold number of meals here at the church, enjoyed time with the staff, and purchased my first iPhone here. Our church family has grown, as well, as I’ve baptized 127 people, welcomed 263 new members, performed 24 marriages and celebrated the lives of 95 people who have gone to be with Jesus. We’ve paid for a wonderful piece of land, built a roadway, participated in Bible studies and classes, sung cantatas, launched Congregational Care and had a great time at Bible School. Ten years. Now, I’m not naïve enough to claim that everything we’ve done has been good, or a stunning success. There have been hard times in the last ten years. There have been things I wish I could have done differently and better. There are relationships I wish I could magically repair. But all in all, my heart looks back over the last ten years and says without question, “God is good…all the time!” Because it has not been “me” doing it. My goal is always to try to stay out of the way and let God work. And God is at work, here, in this place, at this time, still after 180 years. God is good…all the time!

So, today, we come to speak of endings, of transitions, of passages. When I began to think and pray about this message, my 424th sermon here, this thirteenth chapter of the letter to the Hebrews came immediately to mind. Hebrews is written by an anonymous author; no one knows exactly who wrote this wonderful letter that ties so much of what Jesus did back to the Old Testament. There are plenty of guesses, of course, none of which really make any difference when we hear the message of the book. The letter wants to remind us that Jesus sacrificed himself as the perfect lamb of God, the one who came to take away the sins of the world. The author tells his readers, most likely believing Jews, that they no longer needed to sacrifice, no longer needed the Temple, no longer needed to continually atone for their sins. Jesus had done everything; he is our high priest who speaks to God on our behalf. Then, after quite a lengthy explanation, I picture the writer pausing. What should he say now? What does he want to leave his readers thinking about? How can he help them live out all he’s been talking about? As I’ve said the last couple of weeks, that’s the question that has preoccupied me over these last few weeks. I sense the writer’s hesitation, wanting to make sure his last words are ones that matter. Then, he picks up his pen and again begins writing. What did he decide to say? This morning, we’re going to look over his shoulder and we’ll sort of be reading backwards in this passage as we listen to three themes that show up over and over again in this chapter—three things he wants to make sure his readers know as they seek to move into this new future.

The first theme is this: remember your leaders. He says this in verse 7, and again in verse 17. The word in verse 17 is “obey” your leaders—which means to follow those God has put over you, show respect toward those God has called to watch over your souls (Guthrie, NIV Application Commentary: Hebrews, pg. 442). Now, the author’s not talking about following a leader who is a dictator; a leader like that has already abdicated their spiritual authority (Wright, Hebrews for Everyone, pg. 177). Jesus set the model for true leadership on the last night he spent with his disciples, when he knelt down on the ground and washed their feet. Remember what he said on that occasion? “I have set you an example…” (cf. John 13:1-17). Christian leadership is servant leadership. Christian leaders know it’s not all about them—it’s about God. “Remember your leaders, who spoke the word of God to you,” the author says. “Consider the outcome of their way of life and imitate their faith” (13:7). Remember your leaders. Care for your leaders. And that care has been shown to me and my family in so many ways over the last ten years.

Some of the most meaningful times when we have known we were cared for is when someone would tell me, “I’m praying for you.” I mean, it’s sort of assumed that we’ll pray for those who are pastors, and it’s even suggested every week in the bulletin, but some of you have taken the extra step and actually reminded me you are praying for me. There have been times when you have come into my office for no other reason than to offer prayer for me and for this church. Those times are meaningful and keep me going. Prayer is an act of support, care and service; it is often like pouring water on a dry and thirsty land. On one of my darkest days, I had a pastor friend who is no longer in the community ask me how I was doing and then ask if he could pray for me. I said, “Sure,” assuming he meant he would pray sometime, somewhere. But instead, he put his arm around me and we prayed right there in the parking lot, out in front of God and everyone! Several years ago, Pat Hodgson gave me and Pastor Deb both small statues of a pastor who is so obviously worn out by the stresses and struggles of the church and the world, and the pastor is seated, praying, while Jesus is kneeling, washing the pastor’s feet. Your prayers are “Jesus washing feet” to Deb and I.

As you begin a new chapter here at Portage First, that there is nothing you can do to support Pastor Mark more than to pray for him and with him. Will prayer stop him from making mistakes? No, he’s human. Will there be a different atmosphere among people who are praying with and for each other? Yes, oh yes. People who are on their knees together don’t have strength or time for slinging arrows at each other. Thom Rainer says one of the main characteristics of a church that goes the distance is that its people are praying together (Autopsy of a Deceased Church, chapter 9). The author of Hebrews tells the readers that a leader who is being supported will be able to carry out his or her ministry with joy and not with sighing (13:17). So I urge you, if you haven’t already, spend the next few weeks praying specifically for Pastor Mark and for Barbara. Help them start their ministry here with joy. And, just as an aside here, I think this instruction includes praying for our District Superintendent, Rev. Larry Whitehead, and for our Bishop, Mike Coyner, and for the new bishop we will receive next year, as well as for all your local church leaders. That’s why we do that almost every Sunday in worship. Leadership in the kingdom is hard; those who dare to take on the responsibility deserve the prayers of everyone in the congregation. Remember your leaders. Pray for your leaders and care for them.

The second thing the author wants us to remember is to have a focus on grace. Through verses 8-15, he’s making reference back to the rest of the letter, to the discussion on who Jesus is. He sums it up this way: “Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever” (13:8). Because of that truth, don’t get caught up in all these silly, mindless controversies. Don’t get wrapped up in strange teachings or in regulations about food. Don’t worry about things that ultimately don’t matter. Instead, as it’s sometimes been said, make the main thing the main thing. Focus on Jesus, who never changes. Focus on grace, that is eternal. Focus on the reason why we’re here.

I remember when we got our iPhones and began using them as our primary camera. Actually, that was probably the second iPhone we got, because I remember for a while carrying around the phone and a digital camera. But when we look back at those first photos we took with the iPhone, I can’t help but notice that a lot of those first pictures are blurry. They aren’t focused well. Nice, expensive phone with a pretty good camera. Wouldn’t you think you could get clear pictures out of it? My first inclination is to blame the hardware, but then I discovered that you have to sort of tap on the screen, point it toward the area you want to focus on, and then the lens will focus in. You have to make sure you’re pointing the camera at what you want to take a picture of. Once it’s focused, then you can take all the pictures you like, and they will look great. If you don’t point it in the right direction, the pictures will be out of focus. How like the church! Does the church today ever get out of focus? Do we ever center our lives on the wrong things and end up with “blurry pictures”? How about when we spend way too much time debating the way things should work, or the color of the carpet, or the menu for the meal, or the preferences in music? The Hebrews congregation was obviously beginning to focus on other matters, things not quite so important as they thought. So the author brings them back to the center. Focus on Jesus, who is the same, yesterday, today, and forever. He is “the great shepherd of the sheep” (13:20), the one who will never leave you or forsake you (cf. 13:5). Focus on grace. Focus on Jesus. This is his church, not mine and not yours. It’s his, and he wants this to be a place of grace, a community where all people can encounter him. Focus on grace.

Then, there’s a third thing the writer wants us to remember: live right. He’s given us a glimpse of what that looks like in the opening verses of this chapter. Love one another as brothers and sisters. Show hospitality—dare I say “radical” hospitality?—to strangers. Remember those who are in prison because of their faith, something our prison team has been doing wonderfully for the past year. Do everything you can to protect marriage, the cornerstone of civilization. And don’t love money so much that you’ll do whatever you can to get more of it. All of these things are talking about who and what we love, who and what takes priority in our lives. Is the community of faith important to us (13:1)? How do we treat strangers (13:2)? Are they welcomed or ignored? Hebrews says some of those strangers might be angels in disguise, so treat everyone like nobility. Do you remember those in prison for their faith (13:3)? You’ve often heard me pray for places like Sudan and China and Egypt and Iran—places where having Christian faith means risking your very life. We have brothers and sisters in places like northern Iraq and Syria who, just for going to worship, might find themselves in prison or dead. ISIS has committed horrible atrocities just in the last few months toward those who are Christians, and yet, as Dr. Tim Tennent pointed out, “Coptic Christians are beheaded and the next morning’s headlines are still about the Kardashians.” What happens to our brothers and sisters who face death daily must matter to us, must affect us, because we are, all together, the body of Christ.

Then, what about marriage (13:4)? Do we hold it in high esteem, as something ordained by God? You know, our Roman Catholic brothers and sisters call marriage a sacrament, a holy act. We Protestants don’t, largely because Jesus did not participate in it, but because we don’t, we often treat it far too lightly, as more of a legal arrangement than a sacred trust. God takes those marriage vows seriously, even when our culture does not. Marriage is a covenant, not a contract, and it’s hard work. That’s why Hebrews says it must be “honored by all.” And then, money (13:5). What causes more problems in our world today than money? You gotta have it, you can’t live without it, and there never seems to be enough of it around, right? We like having money; the alternative is not too attractive. So how do we know when we love it too much? Tom Wright puts it this way: “When you find yourself making a sacrifice of something else in your life, simply so that you can follow where money is beckoning you, regard that as a danger signal” (170-171). No one, at the end of their life, ever says, “I wish I’d spent more time at my job,” and that’s why Hebrews can say to keep ourselves free from the coveting of money.

So in just a few short verses, the writer to the Hebrews hits us hard, hits us where it hurts. We’re told to live right, to love right, to focus right. So at the end of verse 5, might be feeling a bit dizzy. Which way to turn? What to do first? How can we possibly do all this? How can we possibly get it right? We can’t, and so some are tempted just to give up, and that’s when we read verse 6: “So we say with confidence, ‘The Lord is my helper; I will not be afraid. What can mere mortals do to me?’” And then on down in verses 20-21, we read another powerful promise, written in the form of a prayer or blessing: “Now may the God of peace, who through the blood of the eternal covenant brought back from the dead our Lord Jesus, that great Shepherd of the sheep, equip you with everything good for doing his will, and may he work in us what is pleasing to him, through Jesus Christ, to whom be glory forever and ever. Amen.” You see, again, we don’t have to do it by ourselves. The way we live right is by allowing God in Jesus Christ to live through us. He will give us all good things to make us complete, to finish the work he started in us (cf. Philippians 1:6). Come what may, it is God’s power that enables us, not our own. He who had the power to raise Jesus from the dead will give us all good things so that we can arrive at the end he has in store for us.

The text this morning says he will “equip us.” Another translation says he will “make us complete.” The word the author uses has the sense of training or discipling. It was a military term, used to describe the training officers go through in order to be ready to fight the battle. It was also used, interestingly, in the kitchen to describe a meal or a dish being prepared to be served (Evans, Communicator’s Commentary: Hebrews, pg. 254). One translation reads this way: God will “put you into proper condition in every good work to do his will” (Wright 179). It’s like when you’ve decided what job you want to do, you get training—whether a college degree or on the job training—you get what is necessary so that you can accomplish the task the job requires. The idea here is that when God has something in mind for a person or a church, he gives them what they need to accomplish it. He gives gifts and he sends people. God does not want to be embarrassed by half-done jobs, so he gives each Christian and each church the tools, the abilities, the passion to accomplish the task he sets before them.

Ten years ago, when we arrived, at our “Meet the Pastor” gatherings, one of the questions I asked a lot was where you saw the church going. What had God called us to do together? I believe God brought Cathy and I and Christopher and Rachel here for a couple of reasons (there are probably more, but at least two come to mind). One is that we had particular gifts and abilities that were needed in this place and in this time. But, more importantly, I believe we were brought here because you all have particular gifts and abilities that I needed to accomplish the ministry God had given us. In God’s timing, we were brought together. When I got the call from Rev. Whitehead about my new appointment, I spent some time praying about it, we talked about it as a family, and I sensed God telling me I had done what he had called me to do here. What needs to be done next I cannot do. That’s been confirmed over and over again in the last five months, though it’s not a message I necessarily wanted to hear. I’ve grown used to being your pastor. But I am thankful that God has allowed us to grow together, to do his will, and to see lives changed. There have been moments in the last five months where I have argued with God. “But there’s more I can do!” I told God. “There’s more I planned to do! I have ideas!” And God didn’t disagree, but he did tell me in that still, small voice, that I needed to trust him. So perhaps the biggest lesson out of this transition is for us all to learn to trust.

Now, Pastor Mark and Barbara will be arriving with the next few weeks, and the protocol of the Annual Conference is that I will not be your pastor any longer, and therefore, I won’t be coming back to do pastoral functions. I believe Pastor Mark and Barbara have gifts and abilities you need for the next phase of ministry here on McCool Road. And, probably more importantly, you have gifts and abilities that they need to complete their ministry. God will give you all good things so that you may do his will. Because the accomplishment of the task really does depend on us. God could choose to do everything he wants without us, but he doesn’t do that. he chooses us to work with him, and leaves it up to us to complete the mission. There is a story told of the day Jesus returned to heaven from his mission on earth. The saints who greeted him at the gate asked him, “What plans do you have for continuing your work?” Jesus answered, “I have left it in the hands of my followers.” The saints were understandably a little concerned. They had been watching those followers, and knew that they messed up as often as they got it right. “But what if they fail?” the saints asked, to which Jesus replied, “They cannot fail, for I have no other plan” (Evans 255). In these days to come, support your new pastor, pray for him and for his family. Pray for us, too, and for Mount Pleasant. Stay focused on grace, and on the Christ who does not change. And trust that God will give you the strength and the ability to live right and to do his will. For he really does give us all good things.

In just a few moments, we’re going to close the service a little differently than we normally do. Instead of you singing, I want to offer a closing song, sort of a benediction for the last ten years, as my gift to you. But first, there’s time for one more story. When Christopher was little, he loved Winnie the Pooh, partly, I think, because some folks, early on, called him “Christopher Robin,” even though that’s not his name. But I’ve always loved Pooh myself, and there’s this marvelous scene at the end of the book The House At Pooh Corner, where author A. A. Milne describes a bittersweet scene between those two beloved characters, Winnie the Pooh and the boy Christopher Robin. Christopher is growing up. He has to go to school and will no longer be able, as he says, to do “nothing” all the time. He sadly tells Pooh Bear that he won’t be around quite as much as he used to be. Then, Christopher Robin turns to Pooh and says, “Pooh, promise you won’t forget about me, ever. Not even when I’m a hundred.” And Pooh, who is a bear of very little brain, thinks for a moment, then asks, “How old shall I be then?” Christopher Robin replies, “Ninety-nine.” Pooh nods, and then says, “I promise.”

So, dear friends, here we are at the end of our journey together. For the next few weeks, Pastor Deb will be handling everything, as we will be leaving after worship today for vacation and then on to Terre Haute. And even though I will no longer be your pastor after today, and won’t be performing pastoral ministry among you, Cathy and I and Christopher and Rachel will continue to be your friends. The relationships we have built here will not end; they will just change a bit. And we will remember how, for the past ten years, we’ve been doing far more than “nothing,” but the feeling Christopher Robin expressed to Pooh is the same feeling we have toward you all. We will not forget you. Not even when we’re a hundred. And whether we see each other again in this life or not, we are still part of one another. We are the body of Christ, together seeking to build his kingdom, whether in Portage or Porter County or in Terre Haute or to the ends of the earth. So keep the faith, focus on Jesus, and serve him every moment until he comes. In the words of Hebrews, “Grace be with you all” (13:25).

From Roots to Fruit

The Sermon Study Guide is here.

Matthew 28:16-20

June 14, 2015 • Portage First UMC

Richard B. Mellon was a multimillionaire who spent most of his life playing the game “tag.” Actually, it was an ongoing game he had with his brother, Andrew, and it lasted for seven decades. When Richard was on his deathbed, he called his brother over and whispered, “Last tag.” Those were his last words, and Andrew remained “It” for four years, until he died. Last words. They are important. Sometimes profound, sometimes funny, many people want to say something that’s remembered. Leonardo da Vinci, who gave the world some of its most beautiful artwork, said on his deathbed, “I have offended God and mankind because my work did not reach the quality it should have.” So the Mona Lisa isn’t good enough? Richard Feynman, a physicist, author, musician, professor, and traveler, died in Los Angeles in 1988. His last words were these: “This dying is boring.” And according to Steve Jobs’ sister Mona, the Apple, Inc. founder's last words were, “Oh wow. Oh wow. Oh wow.”

Last words tell us something about the person and often about their life. John Wesley, the founder of Methodism, lived to be eighty-seven, which was quite old in the 1700s, and he preached outdoors continually through his eighties. Just a few days before his death he preached at City Road Chapel in London. In his last days, he wrote a final letter to William Wilberforce, who was championing the abolition of the slave trade in England, encouraging him to continue the fight. As his strength waned, his friends gathered to encourage and comfort Wesley. At one point, he gathered his strength to remind them, “Best of all is, God is with us.” And then, just before he died, Wesley tried to sing a hymn by Isaac Watts. The beginning of the hymn says, “I’ll praise my Maker while I’ve breath,” but all Wesley could get out were two words, twice: “I’ll praise…I’ll praise…” And then he breathed his last. Even in his last words, Wesley was pointing people toward God (Hamilton, Revival, pgs. 136-137). Last words are important. They tell us something about the person and often give us direction for the future.

Well, I’m not dying, but we are at the point in time where I am attempting to share some last words with you all. Last week, today and next week, I want to share my heart with you and give you a hopeful direction and kingdom focus for the future. It has been my pleasure and privilege to be your pastor for the past decade, and as I pondered how to sort of summarize or wrap everything up, three things came to mind. Three important things I want to share with you. Last week, we talked about being rooted deeply in Christ by studying the Scriptures and engaging in spiritual disciplines, and next week I want to share a final challenge, but this week I want to remind you of something you already know. It’s not enough to be rooted; roots only exist for one reason. Roots are there to grow a tree and to help the tree produce what it’s meant to produce. For some trees, that’s just leaves, but for others, it’s fruit. As we sort of ended with last week, the Bible specifically tells us we’re called to bear fruit; we’re fruit trees. So the question for this morning is this: what kind of fruit? What does it look like when we move from roots to fruit?

To answer that question, I want us to stand with the eleven disciples on a mountain in Galilee and listen to Jesus’ last words. As I said, last words are important, and there are, perhaps, none more important then the last words Jesus shares with his beloved disciples at the very end of the Gospel of Matthew. First of all, let’s get the picture, the setting. The disciples have been in Jerusalem, and Jesus, at some point, has asked them to meet him on a mountain in Galilee. Important things happen on mountains, especially in Matthew’s Gospel, but at this point more important than the destination is the journey. I think Jesus wanted to get them out of the city, out of the place where all the events surrounding the crucifixion and resurrection happened. They needed a journey, and it would take them at least a week to travel from Jerusalem to Galilee (Card, Matthew: The Gospel of Identity, pg. 250), and that’s if they were hurrying. So it’s perhaps as much as ten days after the resurrection when they arrive at the mountain. They needed that time to clear their heads, to be ready for what was to come next.

Have you ever needed a journey like that? I remember in the summer of 1988, when we were working in inner city Chicago, and I came to a point where the stress and the work and the conflicting ideas about how things should be done just built up to where I needed to get away. I didn’t tell our team much of anything, just got in the car and drove toward the suburbs. I needed to clear my head, and once I was able to do that, I was able to go back to work. Sometimes you need to get out of a situation to be able to see what’s next. Sometimes you need a journey, and I think that’s what is going on with the disciples. Jesus could have told them what he needed to in Jerusalem, but instead he calls them out of the city, back home to Galilee, and gives them time to clear their heads, to think things through and be ready to hear what he has to say.

So he calls them to a mountain (28:16). Now, no one knows which mountain around Galilee, and there are several candidates. Not that it matters, but my choice is Mount Arbel, mainly because it looks out over the beautiful Sea of Galilee and from its summit you can see most everywhere that Jesus and the disciples would have worked in their three years together. To me, it makes sense that Jesus would have called them to that place, to remind them of everything they have done together, and then to tell them, in effect, “What we did together, out there, now it’s your turn. Now you’re going to do it. You’re going to carry on my ministry.”

Here’s the way he puts it: “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Therefore go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you” (28:18-20). Jesus is transferring his authority to the disciples, and to all who follow him, including us. Everything he has been about is now the responsibility of those eleven, and it’s been handed down through the centuries to us. It’s not enough to be rooted; we’re called to bear fruit, and Jesus describes that fruit as “making disciples.” It’s hard to see in the English translation, but there is only one verb here, and it’s in the form of a command. That command is “make disciples.” The other three words that look like verbs in the English, and have been the basis of many sermons, are actually words that describe how we do what we’ve been commanded to do. In other words, “going,” “baptizing” and “teaching” are all a part of “making disciples.” In fact, I believe they are the three essential steps in disciple making and in moving from roots to fruit (cf. Carson, “Matthew,” Expositor’s Bible Commentary, Vol. 8, pg. 595; Wilkins, NIV Application Commentary: Matthew, pg. 952).

But we ought to ask at this point: what is a disciple? What does it mean to be a disciple? If we’re going to make them, we ought to know what the end goal is. The word simply means a “follower” or a “learner” (Augsburger, Communicator’s Commentary: Matthew, pg. 330), and in the first century it was said that a disciple of a rabbi or teacher would be one who followed so closely that they got on them the dust kicked up by the rabbi’s footsteps (http://goo.gl/Z0wUOH). A disciple is someone who follows closely, who takes upon themselves the teaching of their rabbi, their master, and believes it to be authoritative. A disciple is one who is shaped wholly by the teaching or instruction of their master. What that master says is right just because the master said it. Now, obviously, putting that kind of trust or faith into a human rabbi or teacher or pastor can be dangerous, but I bet you can think of people who have shaped you, whose life has influenced you in such a way that you act or react like they do without even thinking about it. It might be a parent, or a beloved teacher or coach. It might even be a friend or another relative whom you look up to. And that’s okay, if we do it cautiously, knowing that other person is fallible and prone to make mistakes. But Jesus is no mere human being. He is, as the song says, “Son of God, Son of Man.” He is the perfect reflection of the Father. His words we can trust. His life we can emulate without fear. He told us that if we know him, we know the Father (John 14:7). He is the only one who is truly worthy to claim the title “master.” A disciple, then, is someone who hears, understands, and obeys Jesus’ teaching and seeks to follow his way of life (cf. Carson 596). A disciple is a “little Christ.” In fact, C. S. Lewis said the whole purpose of the church was to make people into little Christs. He said it this way: “If they are not doing that, all the cathedrals, clergy, missions, sermons, even the Bible itself, are simply a waste of time” (cf. Mere Christianity). The fruit we are to produce is disciples, not copies of ourselves but people being formed in the image of Jesus.

So how do we do that? Jesus here gives three movements that help us not lose our roots, but move from roots to fruit. The first is to “go.” It was not going to do these disciples any good to just stay on the mountain; the ones who needed Jesus were in the cities and town below that they could see from the top. Jesus told them to “go,” to get down off the mountain and find those who needed to become disciples. I think, though, it was a challenge for them to get that message, because some time later, when they are on top of another mountain, back near Jerusalem, the Mount of Olives, they see Jesus leave for the final time, and they stand there looking up toward the skies. I picture them standing there with their mouths hanging open, gaping at the sky, and an angel has to tell them to get moving (cf. Acts 1:1-11). “Go!” Jesus says. If you’re going to make disciples, you have to move.

In a lot of ways, we can relate to those disciples. It’s much easier for us to sit here, on the “mountain,” and expect people to come to us. We have excellent programs, wonderful ministries and great opportunities. Surely, we tend to think, if they want to know more about Jesus, they will come to us. And that may have been true fifty or sixty years ago; it was still somewhat true even twenty years ago. You could put up a church building and people would come. You could hold an event and people would come, all on their own. But that is no longer the case. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but the culture we live in is not exactly friendly toward those of Christian faith. If you claim to believe in God or if you believe such a thing as truth exists, you can quickly be made fun of or accused of “hate speech” or being a “bigot” because of what you believe. And the Church has not done itself any favors. We’ve not always been radically hospitable; we’ve too often drawn lines to keep people out rather than welcome people in. We’ve failed to love our neighbors. We’ve not heard the cry of the needy. And we’ve had people who represent something other than the Jesus of the Gospels get on the news and the internet and misrepresent what Jesus and the church and the Christian faith is all about. For those reasons and many others, the culture is cynical toward people of faith; the day for “build it and they will come” is over and has been for some time. We live in a new missional age, but not an age where everyone is called to go to a far-off land necessarily. The mission you’re called to is very likely in the neighborhood right around you. Today, Jesus’ call to “go” is a call to practice our faith beyond these four walls, beyond this building. The call to “go” is a call to live faithfully in a hostile world. The call to “go” is a call to be intentional about getting to know people who are not disciples and showing them through your life and words what an authentic follower of Jesus, well rooted, looks like. The call to “go” is to live in a missional way each and every day, each and every moment. Jesus says, “Go!” What does that command look like to you? Where is he calling you to “go”?

The second movement in this commission is to “baptize.” Baptism, for the Christian, is the act of initiation, the sacrament of beginnings. Baptism doesn’t make a person into a disciple; it’s not a magic act. Rather, baptism is a sign or a symbol of the beginnings of becoming a disciple. Two weeks ago, we had a baptism and two confirmations. Today, in our 11:30 service, we will have another baptism of one of our young youth who came to me and asked to be baptized. That makes a pastor’s heart fill with joy. But when we confirm our youth, as we did two weeks ago, I always place my hand on their heads and say, “Remember your baptism, and be thankful.” Some of you can remember your baptism, but many of the rest of us cannot. I was baptized as an infant in the Sedalia Methodist Church in 1967, and while I have pictures of the day, I have no memory of the actual baptism. But when I tell youth or adults to “remember their baptism,” it’s not so much asking you to remember the actual event as to remember that you are baptized. You are part of the baptized. In other words, you are becoming a disciple. You belong to Jesus, and your life should reflect that. With your prayers, presence, gifts, service and witness, you live out that baptism in and through the life of the church.

Since baptism is a symbol of beginnings, we can also understand this command as calling us to invite people to meet Jesus. Baptism symbolizes what we have said for many years is our goal, our mission: to become a community where all people encounter Jesus Christ. This command to baptize is a command to invite people in, to welcome them to a place where they can, indeed, encounter Jesus. I think of the woman at the well in John 4. You may remember her story, that she was shamed by the people in the city and came to the well at noon, when no one else was around. On one particular day, Jesus was waiting for her, and she encountered his life-giving power in a profound way. Then, in a part of the story we don’t often get to, she does there what Jesus commands here. She “goes” back to the city, and she invites people to come meet Jesus. She tells them, “Come, see a man who told me everything I ever did. Could this be the Messiah?” (John 4:29). As we go, we encourage, invite, welcome people to come with us, perhaps to church but even moreso to come with us on our own journey of getting to know Jesus. We invite them to encounter him, and believe that as they come to know Jesus, their own journey will lead to repentance and actual baptism. Jesus says, “Go…baptize…”

And teach. Once those who need Jesus have been found and invited to come along on the journey, they will need to know what it means to follow Jesus, to be a disciple. “Teach” in Jesus’ command reminds us of the need to help people grow up in the faith, to help them get rooted just as you have done. And there is specific content to what disciples teach: we teach others to obey everything Jesus has commanded us. We help them learn what it means to live like Jesus taught us. Now, there are a lot of doctrines that Christians of different traditions believe are important, and there are a lot of things we argue about between traditions. There are even a lot of beliefs and such that we argue about within our own tradition! United Methodists aren’t as united as our name implies. Sometimes the typo that happens, “untied Methodists,” is more accurate. But many of the things we argue over simply aren’t all that important; many of them don’t even have to do with Jesus and his commands. They have more to do with church politics. We’re to teach others to obey Jesus’ commands, and he said on his last night with his disciples what his primary command is: “A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another” (John 13:34-35). Earlier that same week, Jesus had summarized all of his teaching and God’s law in this way: “Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind…Love your neighbor as yourself” (Matthew 22:37-38; cf. Mark 10:29-31). We teach others to obey Jesus’ commands, and Jesus’ command is to love.

Now, and I cannot say this strongly enough, this is not the mushy, sentimental, feeling-oriented stuff that passes for “love” today. This is love that welcomes all but also takes sin seriously. It does not ignore or overlook breaks in relationships, whether that takes place between people and God or person and person. This is the kind of love that loves us enough to take us as we are but loves us too much to leave us as we are. It is a love that calls us to repentance, challenges to be better than we think we can be. Too often today, we use Jesus’ call to love as an excuse or a reason to overlook someone’s sinful behavior. We pull out Jesus’ command, “Do not judge” (Matthew 7:1), and use it as an excuse to overlook brokenness and sin, to live and act as if it’s okay. But that’s not love. That’s sentimentality, or as Dietrich Bonhoeffer called it, “cheap grace.” Jesus took sin seriously enough that he died on the cross to pay the price for our sin, for our brokenness. We must take it seriously, as well. Look at this way. It is not love to let our child touch a hot stove just because they want to. The loving response in that situation is to yell, “Stop!” It’s not a loving response to let someone walk out in front of an oncoming car or bus. We attempt to stop them because they are going to hurt themselves. The loving response is not to just say “okay” to whatever someone wants to do. Sometimes—many times—love has to be “tough,” calling others to a higher and better (and safer) form of obedience and life. And, contrary to popular belief, obedience isn’t a ball and chain. It isn’t constraining. It’s freedom, actually, because we know without a doubt how we are to live (Hall, Thrive). The loving response is to help others live in a way that leads to life. Jesus’ command is to love, and we must teach others to love rightly and deeply, because only love can bring life.

Go…baptize…teach. That’s how we are called to make disciples, because then those who are taught go back out and the cycle begins again. We are never done making disciples. We are never finished with the task Jesus gave us until the day when he returns. And yet, to do this, to make disciples, does not require us to have everything figured out. These eleven disciples, and probably others along with them, come to this mountain, and Matthew tells us that when they saw Jesus, they worshipped. That’s the word Matthew uses when he wants us to know people are responding to Jesus as the Son of God. They worshipped, much as we do here each week. They bowed down, they acknowledge Jesus as Lord. But did you catch what else Matthew said? “Some doubted” (28:17). Now, some scholars I read this week said that, from their vantage point and understanding, since true worship cannot contain doubt, these folks who doubted must have been half-disciples, or wanna-be disciples. (That’s my paraphrasing of what they said.) But since when does “true worship” not include doubt? I believe exactly the opposite is true, that doubt is necessary for us to truly believe (cf. Card 251). I think what Matthew is telling us here is that, in spite of not having it all figured out, despite being a mixed bag of belief, these disciples (including himself, by the way) were still sent by Jesus. They didn’t have it all figured out, they had doubts still (though I wonder how you could possibly still have doubts after you’ve seen the resurrected Christ, but Matthew says they did), and yet Jesus still called and sent them. He trusted them to carry on his mission under his authority, and if he trusts them with their doubt, don’t you think he can trust you with yours? Don’t believe the lie that you have to have everything figured out before you can go and invite and teach. Jesus will send you just as he sent these first disciples; he longs to send you. He finds joy in seeing you move from roots to fruit.

And that brings us to the real final word of Jesus in Matthew’s Gospel. It’s a promise, a reassurance that we can do this, we can answer this commission, because of what he says at the very last. Jesus knows this seems like an impossible task. He knows that the opposition is fierce; he’s told these disciples they will face imprisonment and possibly even death because of their faith (cf. Luke 21:12-19). And in the face of all that, into their future he speaks this word: “Surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age” (28:20). At the very beginning of the Gospel, Matthew reminded his readers of one of Jesus’ most important names, a name given to him centuries before he was born when the prophet Isaiah spoke of a virgin conceiving and giving birth to a child who would be called “Immanuel,” which means “God with us” (1:22-23). Now, at the end of the Gospel, Jesus becomes what his name promised. He is Immanuel. He will be with his followers as they seek to carry out his final command, his last words. “I am with you. Wherever you go, whatever you do, when you go and when you invite and when you teach, I am with you and I will continue to be with you until the end of the world, until time is no more.” His name is Immanuel. He is with us, right here, in this place, and over there, in that place, at your rising and at your sleeping, in your work and in your leisure, in your speaking and in your silence. He is with you, and because of his presence, you can do this. You can go…baptize…teach. You can make disciples. You can move from roots to fruit because he is with you.

I know, because I’ve seen it. I’ve seen it in this place and in this community so many times over the last ten years. I’ve seen children come running out of their Sunday School classes and their Bible School activities, excited about what they have learned, what you are teaching them, the ways you are showing them how to love like Jesus loved. I’ve sat beside the bed of an aging saint and heard them express the ways this church has helped them grow in their faith. I sat beside the bed of a woman whose body was wracked with cancer and listened as she asked how to know this Jesus that you had shown her. I’ve been in countless Bible study and other small groups as together we grappled with how this Gospel applies to our daily lives. I’ve been privy to conversations where I’ve heard your passion for sharing the Good News about Jesus. Just this last week, I got to read a letter from one of the offenders at Westville Prison as he wrote to a member of our congregation who has been writing encouraging words and sending them his direction. He called her “Sunshine” in the letter because her letters brighten his day. I’ve watched Stephen Ministers and Congregational Care Ministers reach out with the love of Christ to those who are hurting. I’ve seen you respond when there have been disasters, in our own area or around the world, and share help with the love of Jesus. You got a house ready in record time for a hurricane family, and you provided buckets of supplies for those who were flooded in this area. You’ve done the same thing with food for the children who live in “food insufficient households.” Every meeting, every study, every rummage sale, every meal, every worship service and Sunday School class, every hospital visit and every community gathering—they exist for only one purpose: so that we can move from roots to fruit, so that this church can better become a community where all people encounter Jesus Christ. And even with all of those wonderful stories, and countless others, already as a part of our 180-year-old story, I continue to believe that the best days for this church are yet ahead. God continues to have great things in store for Portage First in the next 180 years, but it begins with and depends on our willingness to move from roots to fruit.

Go…baptize…teach. And know that he is with you. And the best will be yet to come. Let’s pray.

The Right Stuff

The Sermon Study Guide is here.

Psalm 1; Luke 6:43-45

June 7, 2015 • Portage First UMC

If you have turned on the television news, opened a newspaper or spent any time at all on social media this week, you have been aware of a cover story published in the magazine Vanity Fair this week that introduced the world to the new identity of the former Olympian, Bruce Jenner. For the first time, the world got a glimpse—or more than a glimpse—into the life of the newly chosen identity of Caitlyn Jenner. One of the interesting things is that throughout the article, Bruce and Caitlyn are treated as if they are two different people. For one thing, Bruce’s son, Burt, is quoted in the article as saying, “I have high hopes that Caitlyn is a better person than Bruce.” The article also goes on to say that Jenner openly acknowledges mistakes made with his children as Bruce, “and expresses genuine regret.” Now, whatever you think about this particular story and Bruce Jenner’s “journey,” there is at least one thing I hope we can agree upon, and that is this: changing the outside of a person or of anything doesn’t change the inside. You can change your face, you can change your clothes, you can change the way you do your hair, or you can change your whole body and that doesn’t change the person you are. Outward modification does not automatically produce inward change. Or, as an old saying goes, “You can put lipstick on a pig, but it’s still a pig.” So if changing the outside doesn’t change the inside, what does? Where does real change come from? What pushes us toward genuine change?

As we enter these last few weeks that we have together, I want to share with you some “last words.” I’ve been thinking about the way I want to summarize the ministry we have shared together over these past ten years, and my hope is that these next three sermons will not only do that but also point you in a hope-filled and kingdom-focused direction. And it all has to do with inward change, with becoming the people God wants us to be.   The call of the Gospel is always about transformation (cf. deSilva, Transformation). So the image I want to work with, for these next couple of weeks, comes from the book of Psalms, specifically the very first psalm, which we read just a bit ago. This book, as you may remember, is the worship book of ancient Israel. This is the hymnal for the people of God, and when you read these ancient songs with that sort of mindset, it’s sort of surprising to find the kinds of topics the psalms cover. There are many psalms that are laments, complaints to God about how life is going. There are other psalms that ask for revenge on the people’s enemies. There is even a psalm that rejoices at the thought of dashing the heads of the enemy’s infants against a rock. Now, how well do you think a song like that would go over in today’s worship services? Can you imagine a choir or a praise team leading a song like that? Can you imagine it playing on Christian radio? But there it is, right in the middle of these songs of praise. And then, over and over, the psalms celebrate the people’s relationship with God, expressed primarily through their devotion to the Torah, or the Law. And it’s because of that focus that this psalm, Psalm 1, was put at the very beginning. Some scholars think it may have originally been an unnumbered prelude or an introduction to the whole book, and it certainly sets the right tone for this book of worship songs.

This little six-verse psalm contrasts two ways of life: the blessed and the wicked. In fact, it describes the blessed mostly by contrasting that person with the wicked; in other words, the blessed is characterized by not doing wicked things. The image is there in verse 1: “Blessed is the one who does not walk in step with the wicked or stand in the way that sinners take or sit in the company of mockers” (1:1). So if the blessed person doesn’t do all that, what does he or she do? The psalmist says that person “delights” in the law of the Lord, in the instructions God has given to his people. That sort of person is like a tree, the psalmist says, planted by streams of water. Now, most of Israel is dry. There are not “streams of water” just running everywhere; in fact, one of the ongoing issues between Israel and Palestine is over water rights. The Jordan River is the main source of fresh water in today’s Israel, as it would have been in ancient Israel. The only time the streams are plentiful is during the rainy season, and if the rains don’t come at the right time, the country is in a difficult position. When I was there in late summer of 2000, we passed field after field of crops that were just burnt up. The rains hadn’t come and the economy was suffering. So these “streams of water” the psalmist refers to are actually irrigation ditches, dug with the singular purpose of growing crops, and the tree has been intentionally planted in that place by a master gardener. It is tended and the water is kept flowing so that the tree can grow. There’s a choice to plant, and a choice to keep the plant watered (cf. VanGemeren, “Psalms,” Expositor’s Bible Commentary, Vol. 5, pg. 56; Wilson, NIV Application Commentary: Psalms Volume 1, pg. 97). The blessed person is like that tree.

When we moved into the Mercedes parsonage ten years ago, there were basically three fairly young trees around the house, and several small bushes. Now, as you all ought to know by now, I am no master gardener; I don’t have the green thumb or the inclination to produce beautiful plants. But I do know enough to water, weed and prune. And those three trees have grown and grown and grown an incredible amount under our watch. But the smaller bushes have not done as well. In fact, we’ve lost several bushes over the last ten years and the ones that are still living are struggling. Both bushes and trees are growing in the same place, at the same address, in the same soil, under the same care. What makes the difference? Again, I’m no expert, but as I’ve watched them grow, I’ve realized that the difference is in the roots. The trees have roots that have gone deep and wide in search of water. We don’t have the best soil; it’s fairly sandy ground where we live. And the bushes simply have not put roots down deep enough to survive and thrive. The trees, though, have. The roots are what make the difference. I think that’s sort of the image the psalmist is getting at here. The roots are what matter. The tree—or the believer—who is blessed is the one who puts down deep roots into life-giving water. So the question I want to ask today out of this psalm is this: are you rooted deep?

This psalm points us in one direction for being rooted deep, and that is “meditating on [God’s] law day and night” (1:2). When we think of “meditation,” we might think of images of Eastern meditation, with our hands out and a monosyllable like “ohm” being repeated over and over again. In fact, the whole point of Eastern meditation is to empty yourself, to clear out your mind and heart and life (cf. Williams, Communicator’s Commentary: Psalm 1-72, pg. 27). It is content-less. Or we might think of meditating on a certain idea or a Biblical verse, repeating it over and over in our head, and that’s closer to what the Bible means by meditation. Biblical meditation is content-full; it’s meant to help redirect our thoughts, not clear out our head. The word used here by the psalmist refers to murmuring in a low voice, reading Scripture out loud in an undertone of sorts. It’s not something that happens just in our heads; God’s word takes up residence on our lips (cf. Wilson 96; Goldingay, Psalms Part 1, pg. 8). It’s the sort of prayer you see still today at the Western Wall or the Wailing Wall in Jerusalem. Maybe you’ve seen pictures or video of these Orthodox Jews who come to the Wall to read and pray and study, and they’re usually rocking back and forth and repeating Scripture to themselves in low, quiet voices. I don’t know if the rocking helps keep them focused, but I do know how intent those men and women are in their prayers. Not even tourists are enough to distract them. That’s the image the psalmist has of meditating: allowing God’s Word to be on your lips, repeating it not just in your head, but in a low voice that you can hear. It’s a way of praying the Scriptures.

And more than that, it’s allowing Scripture to shape our lives. The psalmist says such actions happen “day and night.” All the time. Twenty-four hours a day. Some folks have taken that instruction literally. The Essenes, for example, who lived out by the Dead Sea in the time of Jesus and preserved what we call the Dead Sea Scrolls, believed that someone should be studying the Torah, the law, every moment of every day. Part of their community rule was that someone had to be studying and/or interpreting Scripture every moment. Can you imagine having the 3 a.m. shift? But what the psalmist really means is that Scripture ought to be such a part of us that it is transforming our lives, day and night, even when we’re not aware of it. All the time, Scripture (God’s instructions to us) should be part of us, inside and out, morning, noon, evening and night (Wilson 97).

The Bible has always been very important to me. I can’t remember a time when it wasn’t a shaping influence in my life. My family encouraged reading of the Bible, and I still remember the first Bible that was really mine. It was a Children’s Living Bible with a picture of Jesus holding a lamb on the cover. And then, in third grade, we were given a copy of “The Way,” which was the Living Bible, probably the most popular Bible in 1975. The cover says it cost $6.95; you can’t buy a Bible for that anymore! I loaned that one to someone when I was in college and he never gave it back; I hope he read it. Every morning, I read my Bible and try to allow those words to soak into my life throughout the day. Some days I’m better at that than others! And personally, I do the best when I have a structure for my study, like when Disciple Bible Study is going on. That’s one reason I still lead Disciple after twenty years—I need it. When I arrived here ten years ago, I shared with you a goal I had, to see every person in this church in some sort of small group, in a place where you could fellowship with each other and learn from the Scriptures. Despite our best efforts, though, that goal remains unmet. What will it take for us all to realize how much we need to be rooted in the Scriptures, how much our lives need to be fed from the living water that is found between these pages? Marinating (to slightly change metaphors) in the Word of God is what allows us to be the person God wants us to be.

We live in an unprecedented era where the Scripture is so readily available. Today there are so many different translations and study Bibles with notes and commentaries and podcasts from preachers and ministry leaders that to claim Biblical ignorance you really have to put blinders on. Technology has been a huge help; I can read my Bible anywhere I am on my phone or my iPad because LifeChurch, based in Oklahoma, believes so strongly in making the Bible available to everyone that they launched a comprehensive app for phones and tablets called “YouVersion,” in which you can get almost every Bible translation for free. In addition, there are numerous opportunities for Bible study here in our church and in our community. What keeps you from getting rooted in the Scriptures? God has planted you by a stream of living water; are you rooting down into that life-giving stream?

In addition to the practice of Bible study, John Wesley, the founder of our tradition, talked about several other “means of grace,” practices or disciplines we can engage in to be rooted in Christ. These other practices are not in place of Scripture study; that is still the basic starting point. These practices include and are in addition to study of the Bible. Wesley talked about things like prayer, public worship, fasting and abstinence, and preaching as means of grace. Many of those we talked about last week, because they make up our membership vows of prayers, presence, gifts, service and witness. Others through the centuries have added other practices to Wesley’s list, things like serving in mission and ministry with others, walking in silence through the woods, Christian conferencing or small group gatherings, or writing in a journal. “The key is paying attention, listening to God’s Spirit with the ears and the heart” (Hamilton, Revival, pg. 85). My own practice is something like this. In the morning, when I first wake up, I spend a few moments in prayer, these days usually asking God something along the lines of, “What can we do together today, God?” I give God thanks for my family and pray for this church. Then, after I get up, I spend time reading the Scriptures and some devotional books. Often, then, I will spend a few more moments in prayer. I’m not good at praying for long periods of time, but I’ve managed to overcome most of the guilt I have from folks who believe that’s the only way to pray and instead pray several times throughout the day. Then, sometimes in the late afternoon or evening, I’ll read some from a good, solid Christian book that will nourish my soul. Those practices, in addition to weekly worship and my covenant group, keep me rooted and nourished in the living water that Jesus gives (cf. John 4:14). What disciplines or practices keep you rooted?

When a tree is rooted by streams of water, the psalmist reminds us (though we really already know this), fruit emerges. The tree is able to be and do what it was created to be and do. But, of course, the psalmist isn’t really talking about trees. He’s talking about you and me. When we are rooted, drinking deeply from the living water, we will produce fruit. Jesus says we will produce “good fruit.” “A good man brings good things out of the good stored up in his heart, and an evil man brings evil things out of the evil stored up in his heart” (Luke 6:45). Paul uses that same image in talking about the evidence of the Holy Spirit’s presence in our lives; he talks about “fruit of the Spirit,” the good fruit we were created to bear. Love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, gentleness, faithfulness and self-control—against such things, Paul says, there is no law. In other words, you won’t be arrested for producing those things! You won’t be breaking God’s commandment if you’re producing that fruit! If we put the right stuff into our lives—living water—then we’ll get the right stuff out. Living water in, fruit of the Spirit out. Do you want to be all God intends for you to be? Then you have to be rooted. To produce fruit, you have to connect to the living water.

I’ve been your pastor now for ten years. We’ve done many things together over this last decade, but my prayer for you is still the same. I pray that you would be ever more rooted in Christ. In fact, my prayer for you is much the same as what Paul prayed for the Ephesians, and since he says it better than I can, let me share his words: “I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the Lord’s holy people, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge—that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God” (Ephesians 3:17-19). Filled to the brim, to the full measure. That you receive as much of God as you can, and that you become all that God intends for you to be. And the answer to that prayer begins when each one of us chooses to be rooted by streams of living water.

There is one discipline from Wesley’s list that I haven’t mentioned yet, and you may think it’s a glaring error since, in a few minutes, we’re going to be sharing in it. But I saved it for now just because of that. That practice is holy communion, also known as the Lord’s Supper or the Eucharist. Whatever you call it, it’s the practice of once again remembering Jesus’ death on the cross with these two tokens that he gave his disciples. Bread, representing his body. Grape juice, representing his blood. This discipline, this practice connects us to Jesus in ways we can’t begin to imagine, and it is something he told us to do to “remember” him, to stay connected to him. We call it a “sacrament,” which is a fancy way of saying it’s something we do physically, outwardly, that represents something that is happening inside of us. We take the bread and the cup, we remember, and we are being rooted in Jesus. I am so thankful that, in our tradition, all ages are welcome at the table. I remember growing up at the Rossville United Methodist Church and knowing that, at communion time, I was welcome to come forward along with the adults and receive those two tokens. And I’ve had some folks say to me, “Well, shouldn’t you wait until they understand it?” My usual response is this: “If we wait until we understand it, we’d never take communion!” There is mystery here. How is it that bread and juice, purchased down the road at Town & Country, becomes something that connects us to Jesus? We don’t believe the bread or juice are changed in any way, but there is something significant when we come together and receive these two tokens. In some way, we too are at the table with Jesus, realizing that it could be us who betrays him, it could be us who goes to Calvary with him, that it is for us that he went to the cross. In this bread and in this cup, Jesus meets us here. He roots us more deeply. I don’t know how; I just know that he does. Every time I come to the table, I am grateful. I am changed. This bread and this juice are “the right stuff;” they’re what I need. And so as we come this morning, I pray you find that connection, that rootedness, in this simple act of sharing bread and cup. May Jesus meet you here in a profound and deep way.

So that we are ready to meet him, let’s prepare our hearts this morning by going to him in prayer.

Growing Up

The Sermon Study Guide is here.

1 Corinthians 13:8b-13

May 31, 2015 (Confirmation) • Portage First UMC

We’re at “that stage,” where my 15-year-old daughter reminds me constantly that she is not a child anymore. She’s taking driver’s ed online right now, and warns us—excuse me, reminds us—that she will be driving soon. And it’s hard for parents to see their children grow up. We may joke around about how we can’t wait for them to get out of the house, but in our deepest core as parents, it’s an adjustment, and a hard one at that. Yet we also know it’s a necessary and unavoidable process, and it’s important that, as parents, we guide our children to “grow up well.” We want them to become responsible citizens, well-adjusted people and content individuals.

Now, there’s never really a time when our job as parents is done. Growing up doesn’t sever those relationships between parent and child, but it does change them. And there are some agreed-upon signs that indicate when you have grown up. I want to share just a few this morning. For one, when you’re grown up, you begin thinking about and planning for the future. Part of this sign is seen when you invest in a retirement fund; it’s been said that you are grown up when you own stock through such a fund. Now, you may be like me and have no idea what stock you own, but I own stock. I’m planning for the future. Another sign of being grown up is beginning to care about weight and health. You may not do anything about it, but you care about it. You’re aware of the health issues and your weight. And that may go along with the next characteristic: you reminisce about the “good old days.” You know, the days when you could eat anything you wanted and not gain weight. The days when those pants you have in the back of the closet used to fit. Or just the days when life was simpler. You use the words “remember when” a lot.

A fourth characteristic of growing up is beginning to appreciate the finer things in life. You take time to decorate your home rather than just throwing up a bunch of posters on the wall. Or, in our case, our most recent sign of growing up was buying a home, a place of our own. Or another sign of this “finer things” appreciation is when you find yourself saying something like, “This music these teenagers are listening to today is awful. It’s not nearly as awesome as the music I listened to when I was that age.” Yeah, the music your parents complained about! Number five is one my wife will never achieve: you become content with less sleep. Remember when, as a kid or teenager, you could sleep 10, 11, 12 hours a night? No more ten hour nights. You’re up and around and getting things done. And finally, a grown up is someone who doesn’t mind staying home. In fact, they may prefer it. I know when Cathy and I were first married, we looked for things to do on the weekends or in the evenings, just to get out. We did things with friends and we tended to accept most invitations from those friends to go out. Now, we both find ourselves craving nights at home. At the beginning of the week, I look over the schedule and the nights that get me the most excited are the ones where I don’t have to be anywhere. Home is a refuge rather than a prison.

And so we take a lot of time and energy focusing on growing up, on feeling like we’re adults. Do we spend the same amount of time focusing on our spiritual maturity? You know, in the church, we have rituals that signify important moments and events. Baptism is a moment of beginning, of initiation. For many of us, that happened when we were infants or children, and our parents promised to raise us in the faith until that time when we could take those vows for ourselves. We call that moment “confirmation,” and it’s the time when, for all intents and purposes, people are considered “adults” in the church, able to take on adult responsibility. It roughly corresponds to the Jewish rite of bar mitzvah or bat mitzvah, when a young man or woman is officially accepted as a member of the community. Confirmation is the time when we choose for ourselves who we will serve. The three young men that, today, will be confirmed are making that choice for themselves. They have studied and put energy into their spiritual growth, and today is an important moment. So we turn to the Scriptures to see what they have to say to us about being spiritually mature, or growing up in Christ.

We’ve been hovering this month over this one chapter from Paul’s writing to the Corinthians, though we’ve covered a lot of the book because it all leads to this chapter in many ways. Paul, earlier in the letter, has chastised the Corinthians for being spiritual immature. He tells them he wanted to deal with them as people who are spiritual, but in fact they are still “worldly.” He writes, “I gave you milk, not solid food, for you were not yet ready for it. Indeed, you are still not ready.” And if that isn’t enough, he calls them “mere infants in Christ” (1 Corinthians 3:1-2). Much of this letter, including the thirteenth chapter, is written to help them “grow up,” to help them become all they should be in Christ. Paul is acting as a spiritual parent to the church, and he continues to fill that role to the Church today. So, according to this chapter, what does it mean to grow up in Christ?

Paul reminds the Corinthians that there are many things that are part of their experience now that will not last forever. Like some of the things that are so important in childhood or in adolescence—those things are temporary. We have friends who had a child who, for what seemed like the longest time, didn’t speak, or when he spoke, he didn’t say much. And, like good parents, they worried a lot about that. They took him to speech therapy and he still progressed slowly, but I kept reminding them that, when he was an adult, no one would care or remember those things. And true enough, now that he’s a fine young man, he’s more than made up for his earlier silence and very few remember that he once struggled with speech. The toys that are so important to children—those things are temporary. We’ve been learning that the last few weeks. Things that were once so important to our kids and now being thrown away or taken to the rummage sale table. Paul says that childhood thinking, childhood reasoning, childhood speech patterns, even the way your voice sounds in childhood—all of those things are temporary. They are passing away; they will not last. Those are the things of the here and now, not of eternity. And, maybe most surprising of all, Paul compares those things, the things of childhood, to spiritual gifts. He’s had this long discussion about spiritual gifts in chapter 12 and will again in chapter 14. We spent a whole sermon at the beginning of this series talking about spiritual gifts. There are whole denominations devoted to the cultivation of particular gifts and long, lengthy books have been written about the importance of spiritual gifts. And they are important. They are gifts from the Holy Spirit. We ought to unwrap and discover and use the gifts God gives us here and now. But those things, as important as they are, are the stuff of spiritual childhood. Prophecies? They will cease. Tongues? They will be stilled. Knowledge? It will pass away. None of those things will last.

And why is that? It’s because all of those things are imperfect, partial. Paul puts it this way: “For we know in part and we prophesy in part, but when completeness comes, what is in part disappears” (13:10). Spiritual gifts are the things of “childhood” because everything here, in the situations where we need and use spiritual gifts, is imperfect. It’s incomplete. It’s just, as C. S. Lewis once said, the prelude to the real story, the perfect story. So, Corinthians, as much as you fight and fuss over which gift is most important or which leader is the best or which lifestyle is really, really Christian—as much as you argue over those things, ultimately those things don’t matter. They are the stuff of childhood, and they are passing away. Only one thing will last. Only one thing ultimately matters.

Then, Paul changes metaphors and begins to talk about a mirror. Mirrors were something the Corinthians knew, and knew well. Corinth was famous for its manufacture of mirrors, but their mirrors were nothing like what we know today. Our type of mirrors didn’t come into existence until the thirteenth century. The mirrors made in Corinth were made from highly polished metal, which, at best, gave off an imperfect and slightly distorted reflection. It could be difficult to make out what you were looking at sometimes. Even with mirrors today, everything is reversed when you look in a mirror. It might take a moment or two to figure out how things really are (Barclay, The Letters to the Corinthians, pg. 125; Wright, Paul for Everyone: 1 Corinthians, pg. 178). Paul uses that imagery as he describes the difference between this world and the next, between the world of now and the world of then. Now, he says, we see imperfectly. We see only a reflection. We see a distorted image. Even those things we are so certain of are not really what they seem to be. But then, he says, when completeness comes, when God’s kingdom arrives fully, then we will see things the way they are, the way they have always been. Then, we will have grown up.

And more than that, he says in that day we will be “fully known” (13:12). He's not talking about just knowing someone on the surface. This isn’t a “Facebook” friend we’re talking about here. You know, I have over a thousand Facebook friends, and most of them I’ve actually met, and some I’ve known for years. But there are very few on that list that I really know well. We’ve “dumbed down” the meaning of “friend” or of knowing someone today and turned it into having some sort of internet connection. We’ve taken friendship to the lowest common denominator. The “knowing” Paul is talking about here is beyond knowing someone’s name or recognizing their face or even knowing a few facts about them. This is the kind of knowing that few ever come close to during their earthly lives; it’s a kind of knowing that discerns a person’s character, their inner life. It’s a kind of knowing that only comes when we allow someone to get close to us, to share our hopes and dreams, to be there in times of fear and sorrow. Not even husbands and wives always get to this level of knowing, but on that final day, when perfection comes, when completeness arrives, when we finally really grow up, we will be fully known. God himself will know us, will see us for who we really are. Now, that can be a comfort or it can be a frightening thought. God will know us for who we really are, because there’s no pretending with God. He is, ultimately, the only one who can really know us that well, for he made us and sees through us. Part of our calling, our task, here during our lives is to grow up into the kind of person God is calling us to be. That’s what Paul has been describing all the way through this chapter. The kind of person God wants us to become, the kind he wants to “fully know” on that day is one who is possessed by love, by agape. That is spiritual maturity.

And that’s why, in the very last verse (and perhaps the most well-known verse), Paul says this: “And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love” (13:13). Love is the only thing that will last forever. You see, in eternity, we won’t need faith or hope. The letter to the Hebrews says that “faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see” (Hebrews 11:1). Faith and hope are tied together, both rooted in things we long for, we hope for, things we know but can’t prove or see. But in the end, we will see Jesus. We will receive the end result of our faith, the salvation of our souls (cf. 1 Peter 1:9). There will be no need for faith or hope any longer. But love will endure. Love will stand. Love will last. So, friends, if agape love is the result and the evidence of our maturity, wouldn’t we be wise to begin cultivating it here and now? That’s why we’ve spent so many weeks considering what this kind of life looks like. And that’s supposed to be the reason the church exists, to call all believers to that kind of life. I hope the question we’ve been asking ourselves as we’ve worked through what this kind of love, this kind of life, looks like is this: how are we doing? How do we measure up? In the same way that we measure children as they are growing, maybe even putting marks on the wall for each year (though certainly not in a parsonage!), we would do well to do the same thing for our spiritual growth. How well are we growing? Do we love more now than we did a year ago? Because only agape love will endure.

You see, growing up means we take responsibility. We live and act like an adult. We learn to live in peace with one another. We honor others. We stop rejoicing when evil happens and instead rejoice in the truth. We persevere even when it seems difficult or impossible. Ultimately, as Paul has been trying to say, growing up means we become more and more like Jesus and live out the “greatest of these”—sacrificial agape love. Thankfully, though, we don’t have to do that all alone. The church is the community of believers meant not only to reach out to the least, the last and the lost, but to encourage and help each other along the way. This morning, three young men will do as many of you have done in the past. They will make vows as they become a formal part of the church, and you will make promises to them as well—vows and promises rooted in agape. Confirmation is not an ending, but a step along the way. A new beginning. So, for a few moments this morning, let’s wrap up this series and this sermon by considering what vows are made and how they shape us in agape love.

The first promise we make is to pray. Prayer helps us fall in love with God. If we’re going to have a relationship with someone, we have to talk to them and with them. How long would any human relationship last if we never talked to the other person? I actually had a person unfriend me on Facebook because I hadn’t directly communicated with them for a specified length of time. The statute of limitations ran out! And yet, how often do we communicate with God? We claim we want to know what God wants for our lives, and we complain that we never “hear” from God or don’t know what God’s will is. The first question we have to ask anytime we hear that is this: are you talking to him? How is your prayer life? And what do you pray for? The Barna Group found in a recent survey that 84% of Americans report praying in the last week, but the vast majority of those prayers are requests for God to do something for them or give something to them. Now, there’s nothing wrong with prayers like that; Jesus encourages us to ask (cf. Matthew 7:7). But imagine if you had a friend and the only time they ever talked to you was when they wanted something. Or maybe you have a college student and the only time you hear from them is when they want money! How would that affect you? Much more meaningful are the times that friend or that student just calls to say hello, or talk, or stop by and spend time with you for no overriding reason. The primary purpose for prayer is to get to know God, to fall in love with God, but only 38% of those asked stated this as the primary purpose of prayer.

Prayer is often frustrating for me, to be honest, because my mind wanders and I have trouble staying on topic. I was reading this last week about a small group at a church that decided to practice silence as prayer for six weeks. Every week they got together and at least 30 minutes of their gathering was spent in silent prayer. Now, I’m an introvert and I think that would still drive me crazy. But every single one of them reported at the end of the six weeks that the silent time was what they needed to really connect with God. Does your promise to pray help you love God more?

The second promise we make in the church is presence. That means showing up. And that promise is not just so that, at end of the year, we have good statistics. First of all, it’s because being together and worshipping together is a Biblical command. Hebrews 10:25 tells us not to give up the habit of meeting together, and the verse before it tells us why we gather: “Let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds” (10:24). We gather together, we show up, we practice presence so that we can learn to love each other, and when we learn to love each other, we learn to better love God. 1 John 4:20 says, “Whoever claims to love God yet hates a brother or sister is a liar. For whoever does not love their brother or sister, whom they have seen, cannot love God, whom they have not seen.” That’s why Christianity is not a solo sport; it’s meant to be practiced and lived in community. Some folks will say, “I can worship God by watching the TV preacher,” or “I can love God out in nature,” and yes, you can sense God’s presence any of those places. God is present everywhere. But the Bible reminds us we can’t really learn to love God until we learn to love his people. And that requires community. That requires showing up and putting up with all sorts of folks, even those you don’t like (maybe especially those you don’t like!). Learning to love others so that we can love God—that requires presence.

Prayers, presence. And then there are gifts. Yes, this is the place where money comes in. Or, really, this is the place where the things that are most precious and important to us come in and, for most of us in this culture, that’s money. It’s taking what matters the most to us and laying it on God’s altar, breaking the hold whatever it is has on us. No, this is not about paying the church’s bills, although we all do like heat and air conditioning and water and a nice building and parking lot and nursery attendants and music and all the rest. But the gifts vow is about responding to the God who has given us everything we have. Giving back to God, as we try to say every week when we take the offering, is our opportunity to express our love to God and to his kingdom. When you love someone, you often will give them gifts, expressions of love, representative of your relationship. When we love God, we give back to him for the sake of his kingdom here on earth. We entrust what we have to Christ’s church and give up the control we tend to grab toward or try to hold onto with our money.

Some folks are very legalistic about this, and some folks would rather ignore this. But giving is a Biblical command. The tithe, or 10% of our income, is specifically commanded in the Old Testament. Farmers and shepherds in those days would give “first fruits,” which meant they would give the first of their crops or herds back to God, as a way of acknowledging their dependence on God. By the time we get to the New Testament, the tithe isn’t talked about much, though it’s not specifically done away with, either. Rather, Paul seems to set a new standard: “Whoever sows sparingly will also reap sparingly, and whoever sows generously will reap generously. Each of you should give what you have decided in your heart to give, not reluctantly or under compulsion, for God loves a cheerful giver” (2 Corinthians 9:6-7). In other words, what we give shows our level of love for and trust in God, and what God is looking for are people who give cheerfully, or, as the original word indicates, hilariously. Gifts demonstrate our love for God.

And then there’s service, which is another way we express our love for God, only this time we’re demonstrating that in the way we treat each other. Service means those practical ways we live out our faith by treating others with kindness and, yes, agape love. You probably remember Jesus’ example at the very last meal he shared with his disciples before his crucifixion. When they were all at the table, and everyone was arguing over which one of them was the greatest, the best disciple, Jesus, without saying a word, got up from the table, wrapped a towel around his waist, and quietly washed the feet of every single person in the room. Even Judas, who was about to betray him. Every single one. Twenty-four dirty, smelly feet. The Son of God got down on his knees and washed them all, doing what those proud disciples hadn’t thought to do, extending a kindness all of them felt too good to do. And when he finishes and sits down, Jesus asks, “Do you understand what I have done for you?…I have set you an example that you should do as I have done for you” (John 13:1-17). The things no one else wants to do, the things that aren’t glamorous, the things that no one may ever notice—those things, Jesus says, are demonstrations of our love for him. So we serve the poor, the hungry, the needy, the prisoner, the sick and the unloved. We collect backpack supplies for neglected and abused children. We serve a funeral dinner, knowing no one may ever know how hard we worked. We teach a Sunday School class week in and week out with little thanks. We pick up garbage along the road because creation matters and God is going to redeem that, too. We recycle. We care for the animals. We do our best to not pollute. We serve in any way we can because, as the hymn says, this is our Father’s world. It’s not ours. Our taking care of it and the creatures and the people in it, is an act of love to him.

So…prayers, presence, gifts, service. And witness. Witness is simply following the last command Jesus gave, to make disciples of all nations (cf. Matthew 28:16-20). It’s not about standing on the street corner or beating people over the head with your Bible. Witness is inviting others to learn to love Jesus. So we witness with our lives, living in a way that is consistent with the Gospel, making these other four vows a priority. We witness with our words and the way we talk about others, choosing to love others with our words rather than beating them up as most of our culture seems to do today. We witness with our service. We invite people to come to church or family activities with us. (By the way, when was the last time you invited someone to come with you to this place?) Witness is simply telling someone what you know, or who you know. A person who is called as a witness in a trial is asked about what they saw, what they know of the person accused, whether or not the accusations are true. A witness for Jesus can only speak of what they know, who they know, and what difference that has made in their lives. When I was going to college, there was a big push toward what is called “apologetics,” or having good, solid, reasoned answers to the questions of the faith. And there is still a place for that. Perhaps it’s still big on college campuses. But more and more we’re realizing that what people really want to know is your story. What difference has Jesus made in your life? That’s how we can best invite someone to love Jesus, by telling our stories, because one thing no one can argue with is your story. They may disagree with it or just not like it, but they can’t argue with it because it’s yours. It’s your story. A vow to witness is a call to share your story, to invite others to love Jesus.

Prayers, presence, gifts, service and witness. Promises of love we all are called to make, whether we are a formal member of the church or not, whether we are being confirmed today or not. We’re all called to grow up, to grow more and more in love and living out that love in the world that is so often unloving. It’s as simple—and as difficult—as that, because in the end, only love will last. Love is the greatest of these, so as we close this morning, I invite you to hear, one more time, Paul’s famous description of love, and as I read this, when you hear the word “love,” mentally put your name in there. For this is who God is calling you to be as you grow up in him. Hear, then, these words:

Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails (13:4-8a).

And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love (13:13).

Amen.