Think And Let Think

It’s interesting, I think, how almost no one in the New Testament self identifies as a Christian. In fact, the label of being a Christian is a public one. That is, it is applied to those in the church by the world because the world can’t make sense of what the church is doing. Today we take the practice of generosity as rather ubiquitous, particularly at this time of year, but in the first century it was inconceivable. And so, when people outside the church saw these individuals who were selling their possessions to help the poor, and people opening up their homes and tables to those who had no homes and had no food, they couldn’t wrap their heads around it. What kind of people would do such a thing? People who worship the King named Jesus.

By the power of Christ, through cross and resurrection, we are forgiven. More pertinently YOU are forgiven. That’s the heart of the gospel and it’s why people like me won’t shut up about it. But when I tell you you’re forgiven, whether from the pulpit or at the table, it’s not because you’ve somehow wiped your slate clean, or gotten all your ducks in a row. I am simply encouraging you to open your eyes to what you already have. To become what you already are: forgiven. The great gift of ministry is that I don’t have to stand day after day, offering again and again the same sacrifices that can never take away sins. Instead I get to share the Good News, “your sins are remembered no more,” and then I get a front row seat to the power of the Gospel at work.

Grief isn’t something to be fixed or gotten rid of. To deny our grief is to deny our humanity. The best we can ever do for others in their grief is just be there, to manifest the love that refuses to let them go. And the best we can ever do when we experience grief is exactly that - experience it. Weep and be angry and let it happen. Because that’s what Jesus does. Jesus, knowing full and well that he can make all well, still weeps at the grave of his friend. And it’s not just the tears, Jesus gets angry in his grief. There is nothing in this life that we experience that is beyond God’s knowledge. God knows our sorrow and our grief and our anger. When Jesus raises his clenched fist, when he lets the tears go, he does so with every person who has ever known loss. It's as the old hymn says: What a friend we have in Jesus, all our sins and griefs to bear! Can we find a friend so faithful who will all our sorrows share. Jesus grieves, and Jesus grieves with us.

It’s me, hi, I’m the problem, it’s me. At tea time, everybody agrees. I’ll stare directly at the sun but never in the mirror. It must be exhausting always rooting for the anti-hero. Who knew Taylor Swift was so Pauline? Even with all the accolades, all the money, all the power, all the influence, she sings of a life that is simul justus et peccator. In Paul’s letter, as he gets his Swiftie on, sees his own inner anti-hero, he crescendos to these words: “Wretched that I am! Who will deliver me from this body of death?” And notice, Paul doesn’t ask “What will deliver me?” There’s no program of spiritual development or improvement that can overcome this inner turmoil. There is no what that can deliver. There is only a who. And the who has a name: Jesus. The proclamation of the Gospel is that Jesus jumps into the pit with us to show us the way out. Jesus climbs the hard wood of the cross on our behalf. Jesus rewrites our biographies so that they mirror his own. Jesus stands to be judged in our place. Jesus

Preaching is foolishness, Paul says, because lofty words of wisdom and grandeur do not bring us closer to God. Instead, God comes close to us. So close, in fact, that we have been crucified with Christ, and it is no longer we who live, but Christ who lives in us. Which means who only really know who we are in relation to, and because of, who Jesus is. We can develop and put on all sorts of identities and qualities. But our primary identity, the outfit with which we've been clothed, is Jesus. We live in Christ and Christ lives in us...

God’s grace is unmerited, undeserved, and untakeawayable. The offering plate is too small for God’s gift to us. God doesn’t give us 10%. No, God gives us everything. The whole kit and caboodle. For God is the gift. This is the Gospel, the goodest part of the Good News: God gives and gives and gives. God seeks and seeks and seeks. God forgives and forgives and forgives.

The strange theological truth is that the world does revolve around us. I know that’s a dangerous thing to say, particularly in a time in which narcissism is on the rise and the evidence of our destructive tendencies toward Creation are all too apparent… But there’s an important distinction - the cosmos is ours not so that it might serve selfish ends, of course, but that, through creation God might delight in us. Perhaps that’s why God tells our first parents to have dominion over Creation and not domination. Domination would mean we get to do whatever we want whenever we want. Dominion is different. Dominion is a responsibility for this wondrous gift we’ve been given.

The church isn’t supposed to do or make anything. We’re not a factory or a company. We’re the church. We’re in the business of being. All the doing or making we’ve ever needed has been done and made by Jesus.

The witness of the church, straight from the lips of the Lord (and Paul), is that there is always a space for you in this place of grace because our differences make us the church. We have eyes and ears and fingers and toes. We have friends and family and strangers and foes. In other words, the church is an antidote to the loneliness of the world, and the loneliness that far too many of us experience. It’s here, among this body, that we learn of our shared story, that we are not alone, and that we are valued not because of what we can do, but because of who we are. The church opens us up to a future we cannot conceive on our own. It trains us in the habits of gratitude for one another. And it sets us free to delight in diversity.

Remembering your baptism, whether you actually remember it or not is just the same as taking time to consider who loved you into being. In baptism you enter into the oneness of the community of faith we call the church, in which you are surrounded by people who care about you and want the best for you. In baptism, your eyes and ears are opened to those whom God delights sending into your life just for you. We say that the Good News of the Gospel is for the world which is true - but it's also just for you. You. Regardless of who you are, whether or not you even understand it, whether or not you are a good and pious person. God loves you, and there's nothing you can do about it.

Ephesians 4.1-6 & Deuteronomy 6.4-9 Jesus offers us an alternative epistemology: Love God and love your neighbor. Paint those words on your doors, talk about them with your kids, get them printed on stickers and adhere them to your water bottles. Unlike what the world tells us over and over again: think for yourself, make your own way, don’t worry about anyone except yourself… Jesus frees us from having to bear the burden of everything. In the Kingdom of God ’tis better to receive than to achieve. You see, the Shema, even as a commandment is actually a gift, a gift just like the one that we will shortly receive at the table. It is a new way of knowing, and of being known, that helps us makes sense of this strange world. And we make sense of it together..."

God is not sitting idly by, far away, waiting for us to pray. Prayer isn’t putting pressure on God, or persuading God. It’s not about getting God’s attention, or changing God’s mood. God’s mood toward us never changes. God yearns for a world that looks more like the kingdom than all of this. That’s why God gives us these songs to sing and prayers to pray. That’s why God give us Jesus, to embody the new future so that we see what we’re actually praying for...

Psalm 51.1-12 Confession is often nothing more than telling the truth about ourselves to ourselves, to one another, and to God. The community of faith that confesses is not a church without sin (for there is no such thing), instead the church that confesses is a church without secrets. And yet, it’s important to talk about what we talk about when we confess. For, confession has nothing to do with getting ourselves forgiven. It’s not a transaction, it’s not a negotiation in order to secure mercy, it’s not the first step on the road to perfection. Confession is the last step - it’s what happens when we are finally able to confront the truth: we are not as we ought to be, and yet we worship the Lord who looks beyond what we've done to what's been done for us by Jesus.

Exodus 3.1-6 Prayer is what happens to us when we encounter the inconceivable surprise of living - it is a conversation born out of the realization, just as Moses discovered in the burning bush, that God is with us, always.

The Freedom To Be A Sinner by Taylor Mertins

John 21.20-25 John doesn’t earn his belovedness. He’s not the lovable disciple - he’s the beloved disciple. He doesn’t do anything better than the other twelve, he’s not striving after the gold medal of morality or the sanctity of spirituality. He is simply called to a life that he would not have had on his own, and he has fun along the way...

Luke 5.1-11 Jesus knows full and well what a mess Peter is and still calls him anyway. Jesus should’ve absolutely left Peter on the shore that fateful morn, but instead calls him to a life of discipleship that conveys the freedom to be wrong. And it is a freedom. Consider how many of our relationships have faltered if not floundered because we can’t accept wrongness. Think about how many institutions are founded on the fundamental failure to see that we all mess up at some point. Imagine how different our church, or community, or even our world, would be if we took seriously the truth - we are all like Peter, and Jesus never gives up on us. In fact, the only thing Jesus gives Peter is the same thing that Jesus gives to all of us: grace.

Mark 4.35-41 Music is perhaps the greatest technology of the heart, and singing in particular. To lift our voices together is to stand against the disorder of the world. Notice: singing is not a denial of reality. The Moravians on the boat with Wesley weren’t singing in order to pretend like the waves weren’t beating down upon them. No, they were singing because they knew how the story ends - they had seen the whole picture. So too, we stand and sing not out of naiveté, but because we know not all is as it ought to be. We sing in defiance of the wind and the waves because we know, deep down, that God is going to get us to the other side. It might not be pretty. And it certainly won’t go according to plan. But God will get us to the other side because God will always stay by our side...

Mark 4.26-34 In the end the parables are stories that Jesus tells about himself. He is the Good Shepherd off in search of the lost, he is the fatted calf sacrificed for the party, on and on. And the branches of his kingdom are a place of grace for everyone. Grace, as Frederick Buechner was apt to say, is something you can never get but only be given. There’s no way to earn it, or deserve it, or bring it about, anymore than you can deserve the taste of raspberries and cream, or earn good looks, or bring about your own birth. And a crucial eccentricity to our faith is that we are saved by grace, by God’s action toward us in the person of Jesus Christ. There’s nothing *you* have to do, there’s nothing you *have* to do, there’s nothing you have to *do*. Which means grace might seem like a small thing, but Jesus does a lot with a little...

Mark 3.20-35 The church is where God assembles us to imagine and day dream about how beautiful the world could be. It’s wild stuff really. It always has been. That people like me can stand up in a place like this and say “Welcome home.” Or: “I declare the entire forgiveness of all your sins.” Or: “You are loved beyond measure.” I sound like I’m out of my mind! But such is the power of God’s grace, it calls into existence things that do not exist, it creates a community where strangers become sisters and others become brothers, a family, where there is always a place for you no matter what. It sounds impossible - but God does God’s best work in the realm of impossible possibility.