The Most Powerful Position

The Sermon Study Guide is here.

1 Corinthians 4:1-5; Luke 12:42-46

October 27, 2013 • Portage First UMC

My Uncle Carl could fix anything. If something was broken, my Dad and I would push, pull or wheel it down to Uncle Carl’s garage, tell him what wasn’t working, and leave it with him. In a few days, he’d come down the street, and whatever we had left with him would be fixed. Now, Uncle Carl had some natural “fix-it” abilities, but he also had a great garage. His garage was a wonderland that, as a kid, I always wanted to explore. Two stories—well, really, a ground level and a mezzanine (though I doubt Uncle Carl ever used the word “mezzanine”), and it was crammed full of junk. You see, Uncle Carl would go to auctions all over the area, and he’d buy that last box of stuff no one else wanted, the mystery box, the one that had bits and pieces of this and that. And he would bring it home, clean it up, and file all the stuff away, because some day, my Dad and I would likely come down the road with something that needed fixing and the part he would need just might be in that box somewhere. Uncle Carl’s garage was packed full of resources—not junk, resources—and whenever someone asked him, he was more than willing to give of what he had in order to help. When Uncle Carl died, we not only lost our master repairman—we also lost access to all the treasures in his garage!

Everyone needs an Uncle Carl in their life, someone you can turn to to help fix things when life gets broken. Uncle Carl never wanted anything for the work he did. Actually, it was a joy for him because he loved tinkering around in his garage. And we weren’t the only ones who brought broken things to him; he was the master repairman of Sedalia because he was simply able and willing to use what he had in order to help someone else. He did what he could to help others—often my family—along the way. We could all use an Uncle Carl in our lives.

Unfortunately, the Uncle Carls often get overlooked because, as we discussed a few weeks ago, those we look up to, those we talk about, those we—dare we say—idolize are the powerful, the important, the significant. We want the attention of the boss, or the CEO, or the Bishop. We admire power and influence. We aspire to rise to such heights. Soon after I became a pastor, I remember people asking me if I ever wanted to be a District Superintendent, or if I wanted to be a Bishop. (The answer, by the way, is “no.”) We’re told from early on to “aim for the top,” to aspire to be the one who makes the decisions, who has the influence, who has the power. But the way of power way is not the way of Jesus. When Jesus talks about those who follow him, the most common image is not of the rich and powerful, but of one who serves, who gives of what he has for the sake of others. In fact, in the New Testament, there is no word used more frequently to describe a believer in Jesus then “slave.”

Paul knew that. Paul taught that, and he sought to live that out as much as possible. You may remember from our discussion a couple of weeks ago that Paul had a difficult relationship with the Corinthian church. Scholars think he may have written as many as four letters to them, only two of which are preserved in the Bible. One of the letters that seems to have been lost is what is called the “severe letter,” written after a very painful visit (2 Corinthians 2:1-4) and even though our passage this morning happens chronologically before that, it does give us a sense of the love and the struggle Paul had with the Corinthians. Yes, Paul loved these people. He had started this church in the important city of Corinth some twenty years after Jesus’ resurrection (cf. Green, To Corinth With Love, pg. 9, 11), but when he left, problems quickly developed. Struggle. There was gross immorality, for one thing, and there were also these teachers who came in and sought to discredit Paul. He calls them “super-apostles” (2 Corinthians 11:5), and these were folks who claimed to have special knowledge or experience or credentials that put them ahead of Paul, made them spiritually superior to Paul. Such knowledge supposedly made them more important or more powerful than Paul. It was a struggle, but it was a struggle with love. Paul loved them so much he wasn’t willing to just give up on them.

The Corinthians seemed to have constantly struggled over leadership, whose teaching they should follow. Some followed Paul. Some followed Apollos, another lesser-known preacher. Some followed Peter. And some arrogantly said, “We just follow Jesus” (1:10-17), not in a good way, but in an attempt to claim spiritual superiority. (That same struggle still exists in the church today, by the way!) And so Paul finds it important to point them back to the actual example of Jesus. After all, Paul says, I didn’t die for you. “I appeal to you, brothers and sisters,” he writes, “in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, that all of you agree with one another in what you say and that there be no divisions among you” (1:10). I wonder how much his heart would break if he were to see the state of the Christian faith today, shattered into thousands of pieces (or denominations) that only rarely agree with each other or get along. Perhaps some of the reason we’re ignored in the world at large is because we can’t even get along with each other.

So, then, in this letter, Paul uses four words to describe himself and those with him: servants, fellow workers, assistants, and stewards. Let’s look at each of these, but realize that Paul doesn’t mean to have clear boundaries between each one. They’re all really different facets of the same job description, different sides of the same story. It’s not really four different categories. So in 3:5, Paul asks, “What, after all, is Apollos? And what is Paul? Only servants, through whom you came to believe.” Some Bibles translate that as “ministers,” but the word he uses actually means “errand boy,” someone that those in power give very little thought to until they need something from them. It’s hard to think of Paul as an “errand boy,” but that’s part of the image he had for himself. He was simply a servant assigned by God, sent by God to do a task: to preach the good news. That’s not meant to downgrade the task or the one who does the task. It’s important; it’s vital. In fact, the image he uses is of planting a seed. He planted, he says, and Apollos watered, but neither one of them could make the seed grow. Only God could do that. They have done they task assigned to them; they have fulfilled their purpose. But ultimately, the results are up to God because he’s the one they serve—not the church, not even the Corinthians. They serve God.

That leads to the second image he uses in 3:9: “We are co-workers in God’s service.” Fellow workers. Ones who work alongside each other to accomplish a greater task. “Co-workers” implies an equality. One task is not greater than another. Just think about that in terms of the church today. People come here and maybe see me up front or the choir/worship team/praise team leading the music, and sometimes I hear, “Well, I could never do that. I can’t get up in front of people. I can’t do the important things.” But, you know what? If there weren’t people greeting, people making the coffee, people running the sound and video, people cleaning up after every service, or any other number of countless tasks that happen each and every week—what we do here on Sunday morning would simply not be possible. We are co-workers together for the sake of Jesus, our Master and Lord. We are servants and fellow laborers. Every task is important; every task is necessary. There are no “super-apostles,” Paul says.

Then, in chapter four, which we read the first part of this morning, Paul gives two more words, two additional images. “This, then, is how you ought to regard us: as servants of Christ” (4:1). Even though it reads the same in the English, it’s a different word in the Greek from what he said in chapter 3. It could be translated as “assistants.” We are “assistants” of Christ. The original word referred to a physician’s assistant, or to one who helps the priest—an assistant in the Temple in Jerusalem. It also was used to describe a rower on a large boat, as if Jesus is giving the direction and we are the ones who help steer the boat to the place it needs to go (cf. Barclay, The Letters to the Corinthians, pg. 36). This is someone’s “right hand person,” the one who is ready to do whatever is asked and who has obtained the trust of the head, of the master—again, in this case, Jesus. Paul is not lifting himself up above others. We are all Christ’s assistants. Those who are committed to following him are his assistants that he trusts to call upon at any moment to help him in the world.

And, as Christ’s assistants, Paul says he is and we are “entrusted with the mysteries God has revealed” (4:1). The better translation there would be: we are “stewards” of what God has revealed (cf. Bailey, Paul Through Mediterranean Eyes, pg. 142). The word Paul uses originally referred to a household manager, one who was responsible for the whole household. This person controlled the staff, issued the supplies, did all the administration, and enjoyed a great amount of independence, probably more than other slaves in the household. But he was still a slave. The reason he had so much independence is because of one trait that had to be present for someone to become a steward in a first century household: faithfulness. Biblical languages have no word for “honesty.” Honesty was a Roman concept, introduced into a culture that was ripe with political corruption. What the ancient Hebrews and early Christians valued above everything else was faithfulness. Was the servant faithful to serve the master? Is the Christian faithful to serve Jesus? Notice Paul doesn’t talk about success, either. We talk a lot about it; Paul doesn’t. The Bible doesn’t. The Bible talks about faithfulness. In fact, in Luke 12, Jesus equates wisdom with faithfulness as he describes the “faithful and wise steward.” He says the one who is faithful to the master will receive a reward when the master returns, and he contrasts that with a servant who gives up on believing that the master will ever return, who begins to beat the other servants, abusing his power. That servant will also receive the consequences of his actions, and those consequences aren’t good. It’s faithfulness that is most needed to be a steward of what God has given us.

Paul’s clear call to us is toward faithfulness, toward being good stewards, good managers of what God has given us. But there’s one other thing I want us to hear from Paul before we think about the implications of what he tells us in this chapter, and that’s who gets to judge. There are a lot of ways we are judged in our world. Sometimes we are judged by others, even our fellow workers, or at least those in the world around us. Paul was quite blunt to the Corinthians. He knew some had been passing judgment on his ministry, on his ability to be a good steward, and so he says, “I care very little if I am judged by you or by any human court” (4:3). Now, that’s not saying we should ignore all criticism that comes our way, or any honest evaluation. But we know whom we can trust with that sort of activity and who we can’t. We know who will give us life-giving correction and who won’t (cf. Groeschel, Soul Detox, pg. 32). We need to listen to honest evaluation, because there is most likely some truth in that which will help. None of us are above that. But, Paul says, that’s not the ultimate standard by which he lives his life. He isn’t living to make every Corinthian happy. He isn’t even living to fulfill all of their desires and wishes. He is Christ’s steward.

Another source of judgment comes from within. We judge ourselves. In Paul’s day, one of the basic Greek ethical guidelines was to “know yourself” (Barclay 37). But Paul also knows we can judge ourselves much too harshly. Centuries before Paul, the Old Testament prophet Jeremiah wrote, “The heart is deceitful above all things and beyond cure. Who can understand it?” (17:9). It’s also true, however, that no one on earth knows better than we do whether or not we have been faithful. And yet, as Pastor Craig Groeschel puts it, “We have an unlimited capacity to deceive ourselves” (27). There are times we need to engage in what Groeschel calls “ruthless self-examination.” That’s different than judgment, and so Paul says, “I do not even judge myself. My conscience is clear, but that does not make me innocent” (4:3-4).

No, Paul says, there is only one judgment that matters. There is only one who knows the true extent of our faithfulness, and that is because he is the master. He is the one we serve. He is the one who has given us the commands, and so only he can fully judge that faithfulness. “It is the Lord who judges me,” Paul says (4:4), and if I am faithful to him, that’s all that really matters. If I am a good steward of the tasks and the message and the gospel he has given me, then I expect to hear one day, “Well done, good and faithful servant” (cf. Matthew 25:21, 23). “At that time,” he says, “each will receive their praise from God” (4:5). So, taking all of that together, the call for the follower of Jesus is to be a servant, a co-worker, an assistant, and a faithful steward. In other words, from the Bible’s viewpoint, from the Christian faith’s viewpoint, the most powerful position in the world is not the wealthy: Donald Trump or Bill Gates. The most powerful position in the world is not the politically powerful: the president or the members of Congress or even the CEO of your company. The most powerful position in the world is not the one who trades the stocks, not the one who has the most toys, not the one who drives the fastest car or sings that hit song. The most powerful position in the world is the good and faithful steward, the one who is willing to serve at God’s command, the one who uses what they have for the sake of God’s kingdom.

I said earlier we all need an Uncle Carl in our lives, but in reality, we all need to be Uncle Carl—not in terms of fixing things, necessarily, but in terms of being willing to use whatever we have for the sake of our master and for those in need. You all did that just a couple of weeks ago, on our Faith in Action Sunday. 162 of you came that day, ready to work and serve, and as a result of just a couple of hours of work, here’s what you did. You sang to many nursing home residents and visited with them, bringing joy into what is often a joyless and sometimes depressing place. You made 60 scarves that will be distributed through our school system to keep kids warm this winter—and, from the weather we’ve had this past week, I think those were made just in the nick of time! You wrote and sent over a hundred cards to remind people that they are being prayed for and that they are loved in Jesus’ name. You donated 5,220 pounds of food to the Portage Township Food Pantry, and many of you spent time sorting that food, packing it up, loading it in your cars and driving it over to the pantry, where you also carried it in. How many families will eat in the next few weeks because of your generosity and your time?

There’s more. Some of you worked on dresses made out of pillowcases for children in Guatemala and Haiti, children for whom a dress like that may be the nicest thing they will ever own. Some of you really got dirty and replaced a door on a mobile home in the community, allowing for a single mother with disabilities to enjoy a much warmer winter and to be able to cut down on heating costs. Several others of you went and tore the shingles off a roof to prepare it for replacement. Some of the rest of you prayed for our country, for our community, and for families who are grieving. You walked and you prayed. And some others prepared a luncheon that fed those who went out to work—and I know I was hungry when I got back, so thank you! But, now, just think about that. Together, just a little over half of our usual worshipping congregation spent just a couple of hours and look how much was accomplished in the name of Jesus in that short time! Think what could happen if we dedicate ourselves to being full-time faithful stewards of the all that God has given us. What might happen in our community and in our world? What might happen if we open our hands and allow God to use what is there for the sake of his kingdom and for the glory of his name?

For the next three weeks, that’s the question we’re going to be asking. The Bible talks about three main resources we have that we can employ in the service of Jesus Christ and his kingdom: our time, our talents (or gifts) and our treasure. So, for the next three weeks, we’re going to be asking a simple question: what’s in your hand? And we’re asking it that way because of our tendency to grasp onto those things that we think we own. We grab onto our time, our talents, our treasure, and we hold tight. Sometimes we do to God what I would often do to the kids when they were younger. I would put a piece of candy in my hand, clench both hands into fists, and then ask the kids to guess which hand the candy was in. If they could guess the hand, they would get the candy. Now, of course, they were going to get it anyway, but we treat God like that. Here’s what I have, God. If you can guess which hand it’s in, you can have it. The problem with that is two-fold. One, we tend to switch hands and try to keep what we have hidden from God. But beyond that, when our hands our clenched—either in reality or metaphorically—we can’t receive anything. Whatever blessing God might want to give us, we can’t receive because we’re so clenched up, holding so tight onto what we already have. And very often, because we won’t let go, we miss God’s very best for us.

Five-year-old Jenny saw a pearl necklace at a dime store one day and asked her mom to buy it for her. Her mom told her she could do some extra chores and earn the money to buy it if she wanted. It didn’t cost that much, because the pearls were fake. But Jenny wanted it and so when she got home, she broke open her piggy bank, did some lawn work and saved her birthday money until finally she could buy the necklace. And when she got it, she was very proud of it. She wore it everywhere, even to bed at night.

Every night, Jenny’s dad would read a story to her, and then one night, after the story, he asked Jenny, “Do you love me?” “Yes, Daddy, you know I love you,” she said. “Then give me your pearls,” her dad said. Jenny teared up a bit. “No, Daddy, not my pearls. You can have my favorite stuffed horse, the one with the pink tail, but not my pearls. Anything but that.” Her dad leaned over and kissed her forehead. “That’s okay, honey. Sleep well, I love you.” About a week later, Jenny’s dad repeated the same request after story time. And again, Jenny held back. “No, Daddy, not my pearls. How about my baby doll, you know the one that I got for my birthday. You can even have the blanket that goes with her.” Daddy smiled. “That’s okay, honey, you sleep well. I love you.” A few nights later, when Jenny’s dad came into her room to read a story, Jenny was sitting cross-legged on her bed, with tears in her eyes. “What is it, Jenny?” her dad asked. “What’s wrong?” Without saying anything, Jenny held up her pearls. “You can have my pearls, Daddy.” Now it was Dad’s turn to tear up, as he took the fake pearls from her with one hand, and with the other hand, he pulled out of his pocket a blue velvet box. Inside the box was a genuine pearl necklace, something he had picked out just for Jenny several weeks before. He had the real pearls all the time. He was just waiting for her to give up her fake pearls in order to have the real thing.

How often do we pass up the good things God wants to give us—the really real things—because we’re so busy holding onto what we already have? Remember, you can’t receive anything if your hands remain clenched. Time, talents, and treasure—God has given us only a limited amount of each, so the question really is: what’s in your hand, and how will you use it for God’s sake? Remember, Paul reminds us that we are not owners. We are stewards. Everything we have came from God; it doesn’t belong to us in the first place. We think it does. We think we have earned it, earned everything we have and we should be able to use it the way we want to. But what would we have been able to earn had God not given us life, had God not given us talents and abilities? That’s why, just a few verses down from what we read this morning, Paul says, “What did you have that you did not receive? And if you did receive it, why do you boast as though you did not?” (4:7).

Now, I realize underneath all of this is the Biblical viewpoint that there are only two choices. You can describe them as believer or nonbeliever, follower of self or follower of Jesus, the way of the super-apostles or the way of the servant, clenched hands or open hands. But here’s Paul’s point: if you want to follow Jesus fully, not just in name only, you have to live the way he showed us to live. Jesus knelt at the feet of those he loved and washed their dirty, stinking feet. He served, and he told us to do likewise (John 13:15). If he is our master, then he owns our stuff—he owns us. What we have is not our own. So the question we’re going to wrestle with in the next few weeks is this: what do we have that God can use? In what ways can our time, talents, and treasure be used in service to Christ rather than simply in service to ourselves?

As we enter into this time, I know I need to learn to unclench my hands, and the way we do that is through worship, praise, and specifically, through thanksgiving—not the holiday, necessarily, but the practice of giving thanks to God for everything. Some of us probably do at least a quick prayer before our meals to give thanks, but how much of our time with God, our prayer time, involves saying “thank you” for all that we have been given? If you’re like me, not much, though our founder, John Wesley, believed that true prayer is thanksgiving, that you can’t separate giving thanks from what he called true prayer. I tend to rush into the things I want to ask for. So this month, I’m going to unclench my hands by giving thanks. My plan is to use Facebook to do this, to post something different every day that I am thankful for through the month of November. You might choose to do the same, or you could keep a list and share it with a friend or a family member. I read this week about a woman who kept a notebook by her bed and every night, before she went to sleep, she would write down five things that happened that day that were “either fun or delicious or uplifting or entertaining.” She said that, as she made that the last thing she did each day, she began to see every day as a gift rather than as a curse (Smith, Hidden in Christ, pg. 161-162). So whatever other way you can think of, find a way to demonstrate thankfulness, because as we begin to give thanks on a regular basis, we will find our hearts changed and our hands begin to unclench, because we’ll be reminded how much we have that God has given us. Now, again, I don’t know about you, but I need a place to start, and so this morning, we’re going to give you a card on the way out that has a printed prayer I want to encourage you to use for the next month to begin your prayer time. It’s an adapted version of John Wesley’s thanksgiving prayer, so I invite you to allow this prayer to direct and challenge and encourage your own practice of thankfulness, of becoming more and more a steward of God’s good gifts. Because the most powerful position is kneeling before God as we serve out of gratitude.

Wesley's Thanksgiving Prayer (adapted)

Eternal and merciful Father, I give you humble thanks for all the blessings which you have given me because of your mercy and your love. They are poured down around me, and I don’t even realize it. Increase my thankfulness, I pray. Amen.

Perfect Weakness

The Sermon Study Guide is here.

2 Corinthians 12:1-10; John 19:28-30

October 6, 2013 • Portage First UMC

VIDEO INTRO

Well, it happened as we were told it might. Tuesday morning, we all woke up to find out that the government had shut down. To be honest, I couldn’t tell that much of a difference! But the news from overnight was that Democrats and Republicans had failed to come to a compromise on a new budget, were continuing to argue over several issues, and therefore, the government did not have funding to operate. Now, what that meant is that many federal workers were suddenly without a job—not Congress or the President, mind you. They will still get paid. But people who work at the Washington Zoo, for instance, were sent home. NASA was mostly closed, as were many research projects and Congressional perks like the barber shop, dining room and shoe shine. Even our own Portage Lakefront was closed because it’s owned by the National Parks System. All of this is because there’s an ongoing power struggle, and despite the media’s attempt to blame one side or the other, most of us recognize that there is plenty of blame to go around on both sides. Neither side wants to compromise their position in any way, and so because each side wants to be seen as the side with power, we are left with a mess. Power does that. We have probably all heard the famous statement from Lord Acton, a British politician of the late 1800’s, who wrote to Bishop Michael Creighton, “Power tends to corrupt, and absolute power corrupts absolutely. Great men are almost always bad men.”

Now, it’s easy to point fingers, especially this week, at the politicians and the business leaders and all those we think of as having “power.” But we all want power in one form or another. A child who throws a tantrum because he didn’t get his way wants power. An adult who bullies their way through a situation wants power. A spouse who demands that everything be done her way wants power. “We want to drive fast and get mad at cars blocking the lane. We want a promotion and don’t get it and begin hating on the person who did get it. We want to be married and get angry at God because we’re still single. And we especially want to beat out everybody else for the prizes in life” (Wilson, Empty Promises, pg. 68). C. S. Lewis put it this way: “What we call ambition usually means the wish to be more conspicuous or more successful than someone else” (qtd. in Wilson 68). Power is a sin of comparison, and it becomes an idol when we insist on having to be the absolute best every time. It’s not enough to have a good position at work; we have to have the best position. It’s not enough to be a good mom; we have to be super mom. It’s not enough to be a good pastor; we have to be the best pastor. It’s not enough to be on the road making progress toward our destination; we have to be out in front, and woe to the person who gets in front of us or cuts us off in traffic! After all, in every situation, we are more deserving than anyone else. And on it goes. Power tends to corrupt, and that’s why it’s one of the most seductive idols on the market today.

This morning, we’re wrapping up our series of sermons on “Empty Promises.” Over these last six weeks, we’ve been looking at the various idols that confront us every day: things like success and achievement, affirmation and approval, money, beauty and appearance. But there is probably no more potent or addictive idol than power, the desire to have control over others or over situations, the desire to be in charge. Lord Acton was right—power corrupts, for it promises us that we can be “god” ourselves. The idol of power was at the heart of the first sin in the Bible. Adam and Eve were in a perfect garden, and they were given one, only one, prohibition: don’t eat from the tree in the center of the garden. Then along comes the serpent, who tells them that if they eat from that tree, they will become like God, knowing good and evil. In other words, they would have power, maybe even power over God. It’s too tempting, too alluring to resist (Genesis 3:1-7). They eat—and the history of the human race from that moment on has been one of grasping for power and control.

The Apostle Paul certainly understood power, for he lived in a world where people spent a lot of time grasping and straining for power. The Roman Empire was in a period of flux when Paul lived, and everyone wanted to be on the emperor’s “friends” list. And that attitude carried over into the church, because after all, these folks were brand new to the whole idea of Christianity. Not that long ago, many if not most of them had been a huge part of this power-driven society. When they became Christians, like many of us, they just brought their old habits into the church. And so Paul writes this letter to the church in Corinth to address several issues, including that of power. Paul has had a difficult relationship with the Corinthian church, brought on at least in large part by some “false teachers” who had tried to discredit him. They said he was “timid” when he was preaching, that he was only “bold” when he was away (2 Corinthians 10:1). They said he was “unimpressive” when he preached, and that his speaking “amounted to nothing” (10:10). Then, it seems, they would boast about their own spiritual experiences, to prove that they and their teaching were superior to Paul. They were “super-apostles,” super spiritual, people whom God had especially blessed (11:5). They would say these things in such a way that “ordinary” Christians would be in awe of them, would look up to them in some way (Wright, Paul for Everyone: 2 Corinthians, pg. 131). It’s a power struggle, pure and simple. The super-apostles are determined to be in charge of the church, and they believe they have to discredit Paul to attain that.

So Paul writes to the Corinthians, but surprisingly he doesn’t insist on his own power. In fact, while he does remind them of his credentials, he says, “If I must boast, I will boast of the things that show my weakness” (11:30). And then, in chapter 12 which we read the first part of this morning, he reminds them there is nothing to be gained by boasting (12:1). In the church, as Christians, boasting does not get us anywhere, and to explain or demonstrate why, Paul tells a strange story. “I know a man in Christ,” he says, “who fourteen years ago was caught up to the third heaven…And I know that this man…was caught up to paradise and heard inexpressible things, things that no one is permitted to tell. I will boast about a man like that, but I will not boast about myself” (12:2-5). Now, scholars pretty much agree across the board that this “man” Paul is talking about is, in fact, himself, and he’s recounting an experience he had fourteen years before but apparently has never told anyone about until now. In fact, this is the only time he ever talks about any sort of vision (Hafemann, NIV Application Commentary: 2 Corinthians, pg. 457). And he’s frustratingly sparse on details; in fact, he says he can’t really talk about it. Whether that means he’s been forbidden to talk about (as if God told him not to say anything [cf. Hafemann 460]) or he simply can’t find the words, we don’t know. Basically, he’s saying, “I’ve had spiritual experiences like these super-apostles claim to have had, but I haven’t talked about it, because such experiences are not the point of the Christian faith and they are not the source of my authority.” So what is the source of Paul’s authority, then? He says it in verse 5: “I will not boast about myself, except about my weaknesses.”

By “weaknesses,” Paul is referring to things he can’t do well, feebleness—not necessarily of body, though we’ll talk about that in a moment—but he’s referring to his own inability, in his own strength, to resist desires, idols, things that tempt him. He’s talking about boasting of the trouble his life has had. Why would he boast about that? Most of us much prefer boast about the successes, the good things we’ve done. You don’t take a resume in today’s world and fill it with your failures. You write down every success you can think of. Unless you’re looking for attention, you generally write most about your successes than your failures when you post on Facebook or Twitter. Why would Paul think he should boast about his weakness? That doesn’t make any sense to us today. And that’s just the point. It didn’t make sense in Paul’s day, either. But for Paul it was a conscious choice, learned in a lesson from God, to focus on his weakness, on those places where he couldn’t do it alone. And the way he learned that was through what he calls a “thorn” in his flesh.

“In order to keep me from becoming conceited,” Paul says, “I was given a thorn in my flesh, a messenger of Satan, to torment me” (12:7). Now, there is a lot of discussion as to what this “thorn” is. The word itself indicates something that caused great pain, an almost savage pain, so we’re at least talking about physical suffering. And it seems, from the language he uses, to have been intermittent. In other words, it wasn’t all the time, but when it came, it was bad (Barclay, The Letters to the Corinthians, pg. 257). There have been a lot of suggestions about what this was, from epilepsy to a malarial fever that was frequently present along the coast of the Mediterranean in those days. Others suggest he might be referring to the ways he suffered at the hands of others, those who would persecute him, and still others say it might have been migraine headaches. But the most agreed-upon description of this “thorn” is severe problems with his eyes, most likely stemming from his encounter with Jesus on the Damascus Road (Acts 9:1-9) when he was struck blind by a bright light from heaven. Many suggest he never quite regained his vision. In fact, we know he dictated his letters and others actually wrote them down, and eye problems such as this could also include debilitating headaches (Barclay 258). But Paul doesn’t tell us explicitly what the “thorn” was, so anything is really a guess. Paul’s point is much larger. The “thorn” was given to him to keep him humble, to remind him that he was not sufficient on his own. Whatever he accomplished was only because God was working in him. In fact, he asked God three times to take this thorn away, but instead he received this word from God: “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness” (12:9).

Power—the word in Greek is related to our word “dynamite,” so we’re talking very powerful, explosively powerful. And that kind of power, God’s power, is oddly seen when we are weak. When we can’t do it on our own. When we can’t make it on our own. That’s when God’s power is seen. That’s when we are most complete, perfect, when we realize we can only rely on God and nothing and no one else. My grace, God says, is enough. It’s enough for you. Paul goes on to put it quite bluntly: “When I am weak, then I am strong” (12:10).

Nearly fourteen years ago, I didn’t have a vision like Paul’s, but I did have an experience that taught me a lot about grace. Many of you know I was born with a heart defect, and when it was first diagnosed, my power mentality, control mentality, said to just fix it right then. I remember, at the ripe old age of 17, telling the doctor that. I think I would have gone into the hospital that day if they’d have let me. But the doctor patiently explained to me that my condition wasn’t problematic enough yet to repair. And so I was left with a truth I didn’t like: I couldn’t fix it. In fact, in the years to come, I did a lot to try to deny that I even had a problem. I was still strong. I was young. I could do anything—except I couldn’t. There were things I couldn’t do because of the issue with my heart. But I was raised to be self-sufficient, like most of us were, and so I tried. And I prayed. I prayed God would take it away, fix it supernaturally. But God didn’t. “My grace is sufficient for even you, Dennis.” Did I really believe that? It was hard to grab onto. And so we waited, for many years, until what technology could do was finally better than what I had, so that on January 12, 1999 (some dates you never forget), we went to Methodist Hospital in Indianapolis and I allowed a skilled surgeon to repair my heart. That was an act of grace. I could not fix myself. I did not have the power to overcome my weakness. Only someone outside of me could do that. The same is true with our worship of power. We want to boast of what we can do. God wants us to boast instead of what he can do, even if it shows off our own weakness.

Now, there are a couple of indicators that tell us if power might be an idol we are worshipping. The first is when we avoid failure at any cost. That indicates power has become our identity. Avoiding failure looks like this: how would you rate yourself on a scale of 1-10 with these statements?

• I feel the need to win every argument.
• I lose my temper when situations or conversations don’t go my way.

If power is an idol, we’ll do most anything we can to cover up our mistakes and our weakness so that no one can see or realize we might have failed. The other way we might approach this is that we always set ourselves up to succeed. We never enter a situation where we might fail, and so sometimes worshipping power even looks like holding back, not taking that new job because you might not be able to do it, not asking that person out because they might reject you. We tend to fear failure because when we fail, we perceive a loss of power and influence, and that’s a bad thing for the power worshipper. One of the things I always admired about Mother Teresa was her refusal to back down from what she believed, no matter who she was talking to. It didn’t matter if she was speaking to someone on the streets of Calcutta or the President of the United States, fear of power did not control her. There is a rather famous story of Mother Teresa speaking at the National Prayer Breakfast in Washington, D.C. and boldly speaking out on her beliefs about life, despite the fact that President Clinton, whose policies often disagreed with hers, was sitting at the same table. Power held no attraction for Mother Teresa, and therefore fear was not a factor. What is it in your life? What holds you back from maybe doing something God calls you to do because you’re afraid you’ll lose power?

The second “red flag” when it comes to worshipping power is when we refuse correction. Again, how would you rank yourself 1-10 on these statements?

• I get very upset when people don’t specifically do things the way I want them to be done.
• I have a hard time following the rules other people establish.
• I always know a better way.
•  When things go wrong, it’s always someone else’s fault.

In other words, refusing correction means we seek to live without accountability. Power is very closely related to pride. In fact, Proverbs 15:12 puts it this way: “Mockers resent correction, so they avoid the wise.” Now, nobody likes to be told they’re doing something wrong, but there are times when we need to hear an outside voice in our life—in our jobs, in our homes, even in our church. Our staff here loves the evaluation time each year! Okay, not really, and not because our Staff-Parish Committee is cruel. Nobody likes evaluation all that much, because that implies correction. We like to think we’re doing it all right, but if we’re unwilling to listen to others (even if they’re wrong), then power is most likely an idol in our lives.

There’s a story in the Old Testament about the time wise King Solomon dies and his son Rehoboam is put on the throne. People come to him asking for relief from the taxes and such that Solomon had put on them, and Rehoboam asks for some time to think it over. He consults the wise men, who advise him to make himself a “servant” to the people. Then he asks his young friends, who advise him to tell the people he will be even harsher on them, to just deal with it. Rehoboam goes with his friends’ advice, and the kingdom collapses (1 Kings 12:1-17). What if he had accepted correction, given up power and become a servant?

That’s the example we have of Paul, and ultimately of Jesus, the one Paul modeled his life after. How do we conquer the idol of power? By living in perfect weakness, as Paul described it and as Jesus lived it. In the Gospel lesson this morning, we have just one example of Jesus’ perfect weakness: he gave his life for the sake of the whole world. He who was God incarnate, who could have taken power and set up an earthly kingdom, who could have called, as the song says, 10,000 angels to defend him—he willingly gave his life. He gave up his spirit; it was not taken from him (19:30). Before that, just a night before, he had gathered his closest friends in an upper room for dinner, and before they ate, he washed their feet. “Do you understand what I have done for you?” he asked them. “You call me ‘Teacher’ and ‘Lord,’ and rightly so, for that is what I am. Now that I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also should wash one another’s feet. I have set you an example that you should do as I have done for you” (John 13:12-15). I have set you an example—we’re to do like Jesus did. The cure for the power idol is engaging in servanthood. What would the world look like if people grasped that idea? What would it mean if people sought to serve one another rather than rule one another? What if public service really meant that again? And what if the church, Jesus’ people, took that example seriously, serving one another rather than always seeking to get our own way?

Last Sunday, some of you stepped up to do just that. Eleven of you responded “yes” to Jeff’s plea for folks to deliver pies, to reach out to newcomers and to seek to connect them with Christ and the church. That’s an act of servanthood that not only puts your own desires for a relaxing Sunday afternoon aside for a least a brief time, but it will make a huge difference in someone’s life. Well done! Next Sunday, we all have a chance to do that. Next Sunday is our second “Faith in Action” Sunday, and we’re going to seek to serve others in a wide variety of ways. We’re only going to have one service, at 10:00, and that will be brief. Then we’ll head out in and around the area to serve others. Pastor Deb has a complete list of projects at the Connection Center, and she would really like for you to sign up so we know how many to anticipate. As preparation for next Sunday, we’re also going to be collecting food items this week, to step out and stop hunger. You’ll get a bag or several when you leave this week, and you’re encouraged to ask your neighbors to contribute, to help. Don’t let this just be a “Portage First thing.” For some of us, that’s frightening, and some of you are probably already planning to stay home next week and planning to not collect food this week. I wonder why that is? You know your neighbors, or at least you recognize them, and as for next Sunday, there are projects for everyone’s skill level, and some of the projects don’t require you to go anywhere. They’ll be done right here. Is it because it’s new and different, not the “normal” way of doing church? Well, that’s sort of the goal! Or is it because you might not be in control of what happens? Are you planning to stay home because of a tendency to worship the power idol? If that is you, I hope you won’t. Even if you are afraid you’re going to end up doing something you’re not entirely comfortable doing, that’s okay. God’s grace is sufficient for you. Paul said it, and Christians through the centuries have proven it to be true. When we serve, when we seek to break the power of power over our lives, God’s grace will be there to catch us and then, through us, others will see his strength. And that’s what it’s all about.

Just after he washed the disciples’ feet, Jesus gathered at the table with them. Twelve men, one of whom would betray him that night in a grab for power, and yet Jesus shared the Passover meal with all of them. A meal that was, for the Jews, almost as old as time, and filled with deep meaning. A night that reminded them of a time when they were powerless, and yet God rescued them (cf. Exodus 12). But that night, Jesus changed the words, the meaning, the liturgy. He told them the bread and the wine from that night on would remind them of him, of what he was about to do in the ultimate act of servanthood. And he told them to do it often, to remember him, to remember the cross, to remember what he did to save them when they were powerless to save themselves (cf. Romans 5:6). So today, on this World Communion Sunday, we gather with brothers and sisters around the world to remember Jesus’ sacrifice, his love, his willingness to give up power so that he could serve. There are places in our world today where Christians gather in fear rather than in freedom. Some never know if the next sound outside might be the powers of this world coming to arrest them because what they are doing is illegal. And yet, they gather just the same and seek to live this servanthood life that Jesus set before us all. This morning, we remember them even as we gather here in safety.

You know, sometimes I get asked how we should approach the communion table. And there’s no set Biblical pattern or example. But, you know, when I offer you the body of our Lord Jesus Christ, some of you thank me, and I always want to respond, “I didn’t die for you. Thank Jesus for that.” And some of you want to grab it rather than receive it, even though the grace and the gift it represents is never something we can grab onto. It’s something given to us. So this morning, this World Communion Sunday, I’m going to invite you to come to the table in a particular way. Come with your hands open, ready to receive whatever God has for you. Come with your hands open, which in many places is a symbol of surrender. Come with your hands open, as a reminder that we are called to be servants, not rulers. Come with your hands open, remembering that God’s grace is sufficient for you, for when we are perfectly weak, then we are strong.