I entitled yesterday’s sermon “Stop Trying to Be so Humble.” (I hope that title made sense at the end of the day.) The text was Luke 14.1, 7-14. We talked a little about a form of competitiveness that makes community life difficult. This competitiveness rears its ugly head in countless ways. Bottom line: we often have a desire to be honored, noticed, and respected at the expense of others. Jesus challenges this approach to life and instead calls us to assume a posture of humility. All of that is important to grasp, but it’s not very easy to implement.
The question I posed yesterday is critical--how do we get there? How do we actually become humble without feeling proud over what we’ve accomplished? Some might take the words of Jesus and actually strive to be humble to prove to others the greatness of their spirituality. Our egos are very creative. Humility can easily become another way to set ourselves apart. How do we avoid that?
The answer I gave is that humility is not a virtue (I'm indebted to John Wesley for this thought). Humility is not something we can own, possess, or achieve. Instead humility is an awareness of our need. Humility is a form of emptiness before God and his greatness. I believe it’s important that we grasp that truth.
Too often, we’re stunted spiritually because we’re full—full of our dreams, desires, and plans. In short, we’re full of ourselves. There’s no room for anything, especially not God. Though we might pay lip service to God or to some form of obedience, it’s still all about us and what we’re accomplishing. In fact we might end up being more narcissistic than when we started our journey. Remember C.S. Lewis’ thoughts on this topic. He argues that the humble person is not thinking about pride or humility. The humble person is thinking about God and the person that happens to be in front of her. That type of humility is nothing more than emptiness.
How do we get there? We grow in our understanding of God through worship, prayer, frequent communion, and study. And as we grow in our understanding of God through these means of grace, we will see our own poverty. When we experience his love, we recognize how incapable we are of love; his light will reveal our darkness; his holiness, our impurity; his humility, our pride. When that happens, we probably end up praying, “Lord, have mercy on me, a sinner.” This is central. We need to remember that the holy men and women of God who have preceded us never believed they were holy. Why? Because the more they encountered God, the more they were reminded of their own need. Humility then is a response to God. It’s an awareness, a poverty before the Almighty. And that’s a great place to be because then and only then can we be filled with his goodness. Peace!
Monday, August 27, 2007
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
Jesus Divides
I’m sitting here trying to remember what I said last Sunday . . . It’s coming to me . . . Oh yes, there it is. (I’m getting old.)
We talked about the divisive nature of Jesus’ ministry. In Luke 12.49-53, Jesus announces that he has not come to maintain the status quo. His ministry is not all fun and games. There is judgment, and there will be division.
I tried to reveal how this text works itself out in Jesus’ ministry by highlighting two words that characterize his life—grace and truth. Both of those words help us understand Jesus, and they also reveal how divisive his ministry is.
Think about it: His grace is so amazing that it can be annoying; his love so divine that it can be divisive. In the New Testament, for example, the religious leaders do not like the company Jesus keeps. Nor do they like some of his compassionate acts—healing on the Sabbath, forgiving people, etc. His love is offensive. It can be for us as well. Our culture—and sometimes our religious traditions--tell us who’s worthy of love. But if we let Christ lead us, we might find ourselves loving the very people we’ve been trained to look down upon. When we do that, it will be divisive—our nation might persecute us; some in the church might resent us.
The same can be said of Jesus’ truth. Jesus is the truth, and so he spoke truthfully to others. Like any good doctor who knows that causing pain is sometimes necessary for a proper healing, Jesus, in love, heals by liberating us with the truth. Though it hurts, it’s what we need. Time and time again, Jesus gets himself into trouble simply because he reveals the truth. It still happens today. A pastor in the Midwest recently preached a series about the American church, stating that the church should be shaped by the cross, not the sword. Twenty percent (1,000 people) of his congregation left. The truth divides; it separates.
You see, Jesus isn’t looking for trouble. He’s not looking to judge. Rather his coming—his very being (grace and truth)—constitutes a judgment in a broken world.
Our response is important therefore. We need to remain open to God’s movement of grace and truth in our community, recognizing that he will lead us where we might not want to go; and of course, along the way, some will refuse to journey with us. There will be division in a dark world. Peace!
We talked about the divisive nature of Jesus’ ministry. In Luke 12.49-53, Jesus announces that he has not come to maintain the status quo. His ministry is not all fun and games. There is judgment, and there will be division.
I tried to reveal how this text works itself out in Jesus’ ministry by highlighting two words that characterize his life—grace and truth. Both of those words help us understand Jesus, and they also reveal how divisive his ministry is.
Think about it: His grace is so amazing that it can be annoying; his love so divine that it can be divisive. In the New Testament, for example, the religious leaders do not like the company Jesus keeps. Nor do they like some of his compassionate acts—healing on the Sabbath, forgiving people, etc. His love is offensive. It can be for us as well. Our culture—and sometimes our religious traditions--tell us who’s worthy of love. But if we let Christ lead us, we might find ourselves loving the very people we’ve been trained to look down upon. When we do that, it will be divisive—our nation might persecute us; some in the church might resent us.
The same can be said of Jesus’ truth. Jesus is the truth, and so he spoke truthfully to others. Like any good doctor who knows that causing pain is sometimes necessary for a proper healing, Jesus, in love, heals by liberating us with the truth. Though it hurts, it’s what we need. Time and time again, Jesus gets himself into trouble simply because he reveals the truth. It still happens today. A pastor in the Midwest recently preached a series about the American church, stating that the church should be shaped by the cross, not the sword. Twenty percent (1,000 people) of his congregation left. The truth divides; it separates.
You see, Jesus isn’t looking for trouble. He’s not looking to judge. Rather his coming—his very being (grace and truth)—constitutes a judgment in a broken world.
Our response is important therefore. We need to remain open to God’s movement of grace and truth in our community, recognizing that he will lead us where we might not want to go; and of course, along the way, some will refuse to journey with us. There will be division in a dark world. Peace!
Sunday, August 12, 2007
Getting Ready--Together!
Here we go again. Yesterday I preached from Luke 12.35-38. In this section of scripture Jesus implies the journey will be long. Notice in verse 38 a blessing is pronounced upon those who wait until midnight, or even until dawn, for the master to return. Implied in that verse is the notion that the Christian journey can be long and difficult. I know, many of you have been told being a Christian is exciting. It can be; but frequently it isn’t. Most of the time, it’s hard, and rather undramatic. Just think about community life. Learning to live together as God’s new people isn’t easy. It can be very burdensome. It’s easy to see why many stop striving and others quit altogether. The journey we’re on—a journey shaped by the cross—is not easy. It can be very long.
But the good news is that God has not forgotten us. Creation is not in an endless cycle of sorrow and defeat; it has an end. That means we can participate in a great drama of redemptive history. Our effort is not in vain. We can embrace the future that is coming now. The master will return.
So the call of the text is, be ready, be about the master’s business.
But what does that mean? What does that look like? A few years ago, I used to try to think about it in terms of my own personal purity. Not anymore. For when holiness is reduced to my own personal purity, I become more narcissistic than most of my non-believing friends, constantly worried about whether or not I’m doing the right thing and therefore unable to really be present to those around me. So how can we be ready? The answer to that question is found in the “we.” I don’t know what it means to be ready on my own anymore. In fact, I’m coming to believe that there can be no holiness without the community. According to one writer, Augustine believed one can’t be a saint without others, because the quintessential virtue is charity. I agree, and I believe Paul pushes us in that direction. When he prays for his churches, he prays that they might be pure and blameless together, as a community: “And this is my prayer, that your love may overflow more and more with knowledge and full insight to help you to determine what is best, so that in the day of Christ you may be pure and blameless, having produced the harvest of righteousness that comes through Jesus Christ for the glory and praise of God.” (Philippians 1.9-10, see also 1 Thessalonians 3.11-13; 1 Corinthians 1.8) In case you missed that, Paul is speaking to a church, not an individual. Paul prays that the church will be blameless on the day of Christ. In fact, Paul seems to imply in 2 Corinthians that we’ll stand together: “As you have already understood us in part—that on the day of the Lord Jesus we are your boast even as you are our boast” (2 Corinthians 1.14). Therefore, the question is not really how can I be ready, but is the community of which I’m part ready? Is it holy and blameless? And to what extent am I hindering or helping that endeavor? Now we have a concrete way to respond: build up the church! Together we live and perhaps together we’ll be judged. Peace.
But the good news is that God has not forgotten us. Creation is not in an endless cycle of sorrow and defeat; it has an end. That means we can participate in a great drama of redemptive history. Our effort is not in vain. We can embrace the future that is coming now. The master will return.
So the call of the text is, be ready, be about the master’s business.
But what does that mean? What does that look like? A few years ago, I used to try to think about it in terms of my own personal purity. Not anymore. For when holiness is reduced to my own personal purity, I become more narcissistic than most of my non-believing friends, constantly worried about whether or not I’m doing the right thing and therefore unable to really be present to those around me. So how can we be ready? The answer to that question is found in the “we.” I don’t know what it means to be ready on my own anymore. In fact, I’m coming to believe that there can be no holiness without the community. According to one writer, Augustine believed one can’t be a saint without others, because the quintessential virtue is charity. I agree, and I believe Paul pushes us in that direction. When he prays for his churches, he prays that they might be pure and blameless together, as a community: “And this is my prayer, that your love may overflow more and more with knowledge and full insight to help you to determine what is best, so that in the day of Christ you may be pure and blameless, having produced the harvest of righteousness that comes through Jesus Christ for the glory and praise of God.” (Philippians 1.9-10, see also 1 Thessalonians 3.11-13; 1 Corinthians 1.8) In case you missed that, Paul is speaking to a church, not an individual. Paul prays that the church will be blameless on the day of Christ. In fact, Paul seems to imply in 2 Corinthians that we’ll stand together: “As you have already understood us in part—that on the day of the Lord Jesus we are your boast even as you are our boast” (2 Corinthians 1.14). Therefore, the question is not really how can I be ready, but is the community of which I’m part ready? Is it holy and blameless? And to what extent am I hindering or helping that endeavor? Now we have a concrete way to respond: build up the church! Together we live and perhaps together we’ll be judged. Peace.
Monday, August 6, 2007
Spending or Being Spent
Luke 12.13-21 is a very convicting passage of scripture. Jesus, to warn us against greed, tells us a little story about a fortunate man who just happens to make a fortune. Notice this man is blessed (vs. 16). He earned his fortune by sun, soil, and luck. He then does what is quite natural—he saves and retires early (vs. 17-18). Not bad.
To our listening ears his actions sound innocent enough. In fact, we idolize a man like this . . . Ever watch “Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous"? And I’m afraid we think like him . . . We’re all tempted to spend our money in this fashion—selfishly, accumulating more and more luxuries (buying things we don’t need to impress people we don’t even like), saving more and more money, without giving any consideration to God or to others.
But there’s a problem. Though we idolize a man like this and though we think like him, the man is called a fool. Yes, God calls him a fool. Why? Because he squanders his fortune on himself. He did everything his way, and at the end of his life, he has nothing to show for it.
Where did this man go wrong? Did he fail because he just happened to be rich and because he just happened to own a fertile piece of property? Did he fail because he built bigger barns? Did he fail because he retired early? To all of those questions, most of us would say, no. So where did he fail? Where did he go terribly wrong? The answer is found in the story itself. Pay careful attention to the number of times he uses the personal pronoun. He makes his own decisions; he talks to himself, he reasons with himself, and he blesses himself—all this to justify his own actions. This proclivity toward soliloquy reveals the true nature of a person whose god is self (not a bad definition of greed). He is his own moral agent.
To avoid this same trap, we must learn to ask, always, “God what do you want me to do with the time and money you have placed into my care?” Or perhaps a better way to say it, we need to own up to our baptism. In our baptism, we have been saved by God’s favor into a new relationship with God through Christ. This means we have transferred our allegiance to Christ and his cause. No longer are we to be governed by our selfish desires or by our former (hopefully former) service to money. Instead, we are to live our lives in worship to the one who gave us the breath of life in love, and in love redeemed us so that we might serve Him and neighbor. In short, we are to be rich toward God.
What does this look like? For starters, we need to recognize that everything we have has merely been entrusted to our care (cf. Matthew 25.14). It’s not really ours in the first place. God has called us to be trustees; one day he will demand an account (Matthew 25.14-30). This concept implies that we need to use all we have for his glory. But what does that look like? I don’t know for sure. It will vary from person to person. But we need to keep talking about it. Right now, I’m inspired by Christians who work hard to live off less, so they can give more away. I admire the pastor who tithes 30% of his income—10% to the church, 20% to the poor. I’m challenged by those who match whatever they put into their pension account, setting it aside to help those can't even dream about retirement. I’m not suggesting that’s what you should do. It’s just worth noting that many in our family are working hard to make sure they are rich toward God. They should inspire us.
I’m challenged. I need help. I’ve wasted my fair share of God’s resources. I want to do better. What about you? Peace.
To our listening ears his actions sound innocent enough. In fact, we idolize a man like this . . . Ever watch “Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous"? And I’m afraid we think like him . . . We’re all tempted to spend our money in this fashion—selfishly, accumulating more and more luxuries (buying things we don’t need to impress people we don’t even like), saving more and more money, without giving any consideration to God or to others.
But there’s a problem. Though we idolize a man like this and though we think like him, the man is called a fool. Yes, God calls him a fool. Why? Because he squanders his fortune on himself. He did everything his way, and at the end of his life, he has nothing to show for it.
Where did this man go wrong? Did he fail because he just happened to be rich and because he just happened to own a fertile piece of property? Did he fail because he built bigger barns? Did he fail because he retired early? To all of those questions, most of us would say, no. So where did he fail? Where did he go terribly wrong? The answer is found in the story itself. Pay careful attention to the number of times he uses the personal pronoun. He makes his own decisions; he talks to himself, he reasons with himself, and he blesses himself—all this to justify his own actions. This proclivity toward soliloquy reveals the true nature of a person whose god is self (not a bad definition of greed). He is his own moral agent.
To avoid this same trap, we must learn to ask, always, “God what do you want me to do with the time and money you have placed into my care?” Or perhaps a better way to say it, we need to own up to our baptism. In our baptism, we have been saved by God’s favor into a new relationship with God through Christ. This means we have transferred our allegiance to Christ and his cause. No longer are we to be governed by our selfish desires or by our former (hopefully former) service to money. Instead, we are to live our lives in worship to the one who gave us the breath of life in love, and in love redeemed us so that we might serve Him and neighbor. In short, we are to be rich toward God.
What does this look like? For starters, we need to recognize that everything we have has merely been entrusted to our care (cf. Matthew 25.14). It’s not really ours in the first place. God has called us to be trustees; one day he will demand an account (Matthew 25.14-30). This concept implies that we need to use all we have for his glory. But what does that look like? I don’t know for sure. It will vary from person to person. But we need to keep talking about it. Right now, I’m inspired by Christians who work hard to live off less, so they can give more away. I admire the pastor who tithes 30% of his income—10% to the church, 20% to the poor. I’m challenged by those who match whatever they put into their pension account, setting it aside to help those can't even dream about retirement. I’m not suggesting that’s what you should do. It’s just worth noting that many in our family are working hard to make sure they are rich toward God. They should inspire us.
I’m challenged. I need help. I’ve wasted my fair share of God’s resources. I want to do better. What about you? Peace.
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