Tag: fear and faith

Maturing Faith

by Steve Harsh, posted in Christian Discipleship, Faith and Politics, Faith and Values

“When I was a child, I spoke like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child; when I became an adult, I put an end to childish ways.” (I Corinthians 13:11)

Those words of St. Paul came to mind as I was reflecting on changes in my life. I do that a lot these days as I look back on my 67 years of life experience. One particular reflection was sparked by a friend’s post on Facebook about the great hymn, “O Young and Fearless Prophet,” which is one of my favorites. The prophetic words by S. Ralph Harlow are as relevant today, if not more so, than when written in the early days of the great depression (1931). It’s not a popular hymn with most congregations because it hits too close to home when it says things like, “we betray so quickly and leave thee there alone;” or “help us stand unswerving against war’s bloody way, where hate and lust and falsehood hold back Christ’s holy sway.”

And it gets better. Verse three concludes with “forbid false love of country that blinds us to his call, who lifts above the nations the unity of all.” And verse four says, “Stir up in us a protest against our greed for wealth, while others starve and hunger and plead for work and health; where homes with little children cry out for lack of bread, who live their years sore burdened beneath a gloomy dread.” Those are words that would make both the Hebrew prophets and contemporary ones proud.

What’s that have to do with I Corinthians and thinking like a child? You see I never heard about the prophets or the social gospel in the churches where I grew up. My favorite hymn as a child was at the other end of the theological spectrum, “Onward Christian Soldiers, marching as to war.” It pains me to admit that, but it also gives me a sense of hope that change and conversion are possible. I believe Paul is reflecting on his own amazing conversion in that verse about childish and adult faith.

I know some people would call it back sliding rather than a conversion, but I am constantly amazed and grateful when I remember where I came from and where I am now on my faith journey. My entire high school received propaganda from the John Birch Society, and I had been taught no critical skills to even question the truth of such a hate-filled world view. If you aren’t familiar with the Birchers they were, as a friend of mine describes them, “somewhere to the right of Genghis Khan.” Think of them as the Tea Party on steroids. For me, to travel from that place to a more liberal and universal understanding of God and the world, thanks to many mentors, is one of the richest blessings of my life. My former self was fearful like a child, and while I have a long way yet to go in my faith walk, my current trust in a tolerant and merciful God is a more adult faith that I thank God for daily.

What that says to me is that a God who took a childish Christian killer named Saul and transformed him into the greatest missionary the church has ever known can also take a small-town kid like me with a narrow view of the world and of the Gospel and broaden my horizons. A great God who can do that can also bridge the seemingly hopeless divisions between the political and theological factions in our divided nation and world today.

To “put an end to childish things” means to mature in our faith, a life-long task for all of God’s people, individually and collectively. It means growing beyond a self-focused concern for my own personal salvation to a universal faith that demands justice and mercy for all of God’s children, not just people who look and think like me. That’s not a new thing. Deutero Isaiah described it 500 years before Christ when he said, “It is too light a thing that you should be my servant to raise up the tribes of Jacob and to restore the survivors of Israel; I will give you as a light to the nations, that my salvation may reach to the end of the earth.” (Isa. 49:6)

The Hebrew people loved thinking they were God’s chosen people, and they were; but the prophets and Jesus challenge them and us to re-interpret what it means to be chosen. God’s people are not chosen for special privilege. We are chosen to be God’s servants and messengers of a grown-up Gospel that is inclusive, not exclusive; that cannot rest in material or spiritual comfort as long as there is suffering and injustice for any of God’s creation.

My own faith journey is perhaps best captured by the contrast between the militaristic imagery of my childhood theme song, “Onward Christian Soldiers” and another great hymn, “Lead On, O King Eternal.” The latter by Ernest W. Shurtleff includes these powerful words: “For not with swords loud clashing, nor roll of stirring drums; with deeds of love and mercy the heavenly kingdom comes.”

As we, let’s hope, near the end of the longest war in American history, my prayer is for an adult faith that will ask hard questions about what we have gained in the war on terror and at what cost. To ask such questions is in no way to dishonor the sacrifices made by the men and women who have served in that war. I would argue that the greatest honor we can bestow on those who have suffered and died in the service of our country is to rededicate ourselves to the peaceful ways of Christ. Harlow’s prayer is our prayer today, as the hymn concludes this way: “O young and fearless Prophet, we need thy presence here, amid our pride and glory to see thy face appear; once more to hear thy challenge above our noisy day, again to lead us forward along God’s holy way.” May it be so.

“Top 5 Reasons We Spend Too Much on Christmas,” Isaiah 55:1-3, 6-12

by Steve Harsh, posted in Christian Discipleship, Faith and Values

“Why spend money on what is not bread, and your labor on what does not satisfy?” (Isa. 55:2)

Isaiah raised that question 2500 years ago, but it is as relevant today as it was then. American consumers in the Christmas season last year spent $579 Billion. As individuals and a society, most of us agree that we spend way too much on Christmas. More than we intend to, and no matter how often we say we are going to change, we still overindulge. The question is why. Pastor Dave raised an interesting question in this month’s church newsletter. He asked how many of us can even remember what gifts we got for Christmas last year. Many of them are probably obsolete already or no longer work or fit or have gone out of style as part of planned obsolescence.

Why do we spend money on that which does not satisfy? Isaiah was addressing Hebrew exiles in Babylon, warning them not to pursue false gods that could not satisfy their deepest spiritual needs; so that’s different than our over consumptive culture – or is it?

$579 Billion! Pastor Greg Holder, one of the founders of the Advent Conspiracy movement, points out that a very small fraction of that $579 billion could provide clean water for every person in the entire world. Holder explains why thousands of churches like ours have joined the conspiracy this way: “Radical consumerism is the fastest growing religion in the world promising transcendence, power, pleasure and fulfillment even as it demands complete devotion.” Consumerism is like the false gods Isaiah was warning his people about in Babylon. Both require making a choice about what and whom we worship. Holder says, “Part of saying ‘yes’ to Jesus is saying ‘no’ to over-spending and to over consumption.”

So today’s theme for week two of the Advent Conspiracy is simply “Spend Less,” and the secret to doing so is to answer Isaiah’s question of why we spend our hard-earned money on things that don’t really satisfy.

With apologies to David Letterman, I want to tackle that question by offering a list of the Top Five Reasons we spend too much on Christmas. Yes, I know Letterman does a Top 10 list, but we’re cutting back this year, and the sermon would be too long with a top 10.

Reason #5 why we spend too much on Christmas: Tradition: We all have traditional ways we celebrate the season from special decorations to favorite food and activities. When I was a kid my friends were jealous of me because Santa always came to our house on Christmas Eve. Our family would go for a drive to look at Christmas lights, and lo and behold, every year, the Jolly Old Elf would have our presents under the tree when we returned. I didn’t even know for years that most people had to wait till Christmas morning, because opening gifts on Christmas Eve was how we always did it at my house. We tried Christmas morning one year and no one liked it because “We never did it that way before.”

The quantity and way we shop for Christmas today is a tradition that has changed dramatically over the years. It’s only very recently that on-line shopping means that UPS and FedEx deliver far more gifts that Santa. It seems like Black Friday has been a holiday tradition forever right? But it’s only been in the last 8-10 years that Black Friday has become the shopping frenzy that it is today. My point is that traditions change over time, they begin somewhere, and that means they can be changed if we choose to do so. I didn’t say that’s easy. Suggest a change in a tradition that is well established in your family, and you may be treated like a Grinch. But that’s no excuse for not asking where our traditions came from and if we want to continue overspending, just because we’ve gotten into the habit of ALWAYS doing so.

Reason #4: Boredom: I was struck recently that this idea showed up as an aside in a Scott Turrow murder mystery, Identical, where a private investigator is tailing someone at a shopping mall and asks the rhetorical question, “When did shopping become a recreational activity?” Sometimes we shop because we’re bored and have nothing better to do.

Have you ever noticed that kids with an I-pad, I-pod, x-box, a Wii, a DVD player and most other electronic devices on the market, and a room full of low-tech toys frequently bemoan the fact that they’re bored? It’s not their fault. They’re a product of a society that wants constant activity and entertainment.

I heard an astronomer recently talking about how modern humans don’t appreciate our humble role in the vastness of God’s universe because light pollution means we can’t see the stars and appreciate the infinite scope of the creation that stretches for millions of light years in every direction. We also can’t hear the voice of God until we learn to be quiet and listen. How many of us will wait on hold for an hour or more to talk to a customer service representative about a problem, but can’t stand 10 minutes of time alone with ourselves and God? Shopping and busyness as cures for boredom will not satisfy our hunger for the peace only God can give.

Reason #3: Selfishness/Instant Gratification is too slow. We have been convinced that we must have all the 4G technologies to save a few nano-seconds here and there. But part of worshiping fully is learning to wait. One of the famous verses from Isaiah is the one in chapter 40 where he encourages the Hebrew Exiles to be patient. They are turning to false gods in Babylon because they are tired of waiting for their God to deliver them from captivity. Isaiah 40:31 says, “Those who wait upon the Lord will renew their strength. They will mount up with wings like Eagles.” That verse reminds me of one of the most amazing things about Nelson Mandela–that he faithfully waited on God for 27 years of imprisonment, much of it at hard labor, and emerged to be one of the greatest examples of the power of forgiveness and reconciliation the world has ever known.

The prophet Isaiah is where we get a lot of the Hebrew scriptures we read and sing at Christmas that foretell the coming of the Messiah to ransom captive Israel. But guess what – it was 500 years from the time Isaiah wrote those words until Jesus was born in Bethlehem. And we go crazy when we have to wait a few minutes in traffic! The key to being at peace no matter what we have or what happens is understanding what Isaiah means when he says, “God’s thoughts are not the same as ours” (55:8). God’s perspective on time and what satisfies the human soul is very different from ours.

Our seven-year old grandson impressed me with a question recently. He was looking at something in the house and noticed the tag that said, “Made in China.” He asked, “Why is everything made in China?” It’s because cheaper goods means we can afford to buy more stuff. But is it really cheaper if we look at the real cost? The loss of American jobs, the poor conditions of the workers who produce those goods in China and other low-wage countries, the pollution to the air in China and the environmental impact of burning tons of fossil fuel required to ship all those goods half way around the world?

The root problem of instant gratification is self-centeredness. The solution to that problem at Christmas is to remember whose birthday it is. Christmas is not about me or you—it’s about Jesus. That simple reminder puts things in perspective when we realize that Christmas is about the gift of eternal life. All those things we spend too much on don’t satisfy – because they are not eternal and they won’t last.

Reason #2: Ads/Peer Pressure (The devil made me do it). They say we are what we eat. We also are likely to do what we think. That’s why Isaiah encourages us to “forsake our unrighteous thoughts (55:7)” and adopt God’s thoughts which are incredibly higher than ours; because our thoughts lead to actions. Jesus warns us that looking lustfully at another person is just as bad as committing adultery (Matt. 5:27) and being angry is as wrong as murder (Matt. 5:22). Aren’t you glad we don’t take that literally? Got your attention, though, didn’t it? The point is that our actions begin in our thinking, and if we are aware of negative emotions like anger, lust, greed, and gluttony we are much better able to control negative actions, like over consuming things that don’t satisfy.

Most of us know we should spend less at Christmas and plan to do so; but then the clever advertising kicks in, or jealously of someone who has the newest toy or gadget we just can’t live without, peer pressure. We find ourselves doing the very thing we have vowed not to do, and we end up unsatisfied and disappointed when the bills roll in come January. The problem is that we are persuaded not just by logic and reason; we are also powerfully influenced by our emotions which operate on a sub-conscious level.

So advertisers play upon our emotions and children are especially vulnerable because they don’t have the rational ability to see through the phony claims advertisers make. You know the ones — that if we just buy all the right toys, wear the latest fashion, drive the hottest car, and take the latest anti-aging pill all of our problems in life will magically disappear. I’m not the only one who falls for that stuff am I?

Advertisers are very clever and sneaky, but we don’t get off the hook by blaming unethical marketing or peer pressure for our overspending. We are still accountable for our choices and actions. The comedian Flip Wilson years ago had a famous line that he used to excuse every mistake he made. He would say, “The Devil Made me Do it.” Yes, there are forces of evil and temptation in the world. But to surrender as a victim to the persuasion of others is a betrayal of our God-given ability to be responsible citizens of God’s kingdom and of the world. We are not weaklings who are defenseless against temptation. We are created in God’s image, with the ability to make good choices and to say ‘no’ to the false gods of radical consumerism.

Saying a firm but loving ‘no’ to ourselves or our kids is not fun, but it is so much better than spending more money we on things that will not and cannot ultimately satisfy. And that brings us to reason #1, which is at the core of all of the others.

Reason #1 why we spend too much on Christmas: Fear and Insecurity/Lack of Faith.
We spend time and money on things that don’t satisfy because we are searching for a feeling of success and purpose in our lives that only God can provide. But the more stuff we have, the less satisfied we feel, and the more we want. Psalm 23 begins with the words, “The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.” The essence of being satisfied is to stop wanting more of what doesn’t satisfy. And the good news is that Isaiah tells us that real satisfaction is free. 55:1 says, “Come buy wine and milk without money and without cost.” How? Matthew 6:33 says, “Seek first the kingdom of God, and everything else will be added to you.” What better time could there be than Christmas to put God’s kingdom first? Isaiah puts it this way in verse 6: “Seek the Lord while he may be found; call on him while he is near.” Christmas is that time when God draws near to us in human form.

The choice of how we respond to the gift of Christmas and how we spend our resources is a critical choice, even a matter of life and death. That choice is so critical because if we spend less and spend wisely, we have more to give to those who are truly in need, for whom food and socks may literally be a matter of survival in a long cold winter. The ability to give more is captured in an old slogan from the 60’s that says, “Live simply so others may simply live.” The choice to spend less is also a matter of life and death for us, a matter of eternal life and death. Verse 3 of Isaiah 55 says, “Give ear to me; listen, that you may live.”

To be really satisfied in life is to be set free—free from traditions that no longer serve us, from boredom, free from selfishness and peer pressure, and free from fear and insecurity. One of the many great quotes I read this week following the death of Nelson Mandela sums it up very well. Mandela said, “To be free is not merely to cast off one’s chains, but to live in a way that respects and enhances the freedom of others.”

Does spending less and fighting the forces of consumerism seem impossible to you? It is a huge challenge, but let me share a personal story that gives me hope. I do remember one gift I got for Christmas last year because it was a very touching and pleasant surprise. A member of our family who really loves all the gift giving of the holiday kept asking me what I wanted for Christmas. I really didn’t need or want anything, but I decided to suggest they give a donation to Heifer Project in my name, to support a needy family somewhere in the world. I really didn’t think that kind of alternative Christmas giving would be warmly received. I have never been so happy to be totally wrong in my life. Not only did they love the idea and bought a flock of geese and chickens in my honor for a family in Central America, they liked the idea so much they made another donation of farm animals in their own name. And they are doing the same thing again this year.

Never underestimate God’s power to change us and the world. Greg Holder of the Advent Conspiracy movement put it this way. “The story of Christmas changed the world once, and it can do it again.”

Prayer: O God, our Christmas wish for this year is that you will change our hearts so we can help transform the world. Save us from the temptation to pursue those things that cannot satisfy our hunger for salvation and peace. Help us listen to your voice as you draw near to us again this Christmas so that we will put your kingdom and your righteousness first and live the life of eternal peace you want for us and all of creation. Amen.

Thanksgivukkah

by Steve Harsh, posted in Christian Discipleship, Faith and Values

As we approach another Thanksgiving feast, among the many things I am grateful for are those of you who read my posts in this blog. The number of views this month has been phenomenal and heartwarming, and I thank you all for the encouragement it gives me to feel the appreciation and support I draw from knowing that my words in some small way matter to you. I send my best wishes to you and yours for a most blessed Thanksgiving.

In a rare alignment of calendars, Thanksgiving and the first day of Hanukkah both fall on November 28 this year, and some people are calling it “Thanksgivukkah.” The two celebrations fit together well because both are opportunities give thanks for God’s blessings and renew our trust in God to provide what we really need in life. Today’s Columbus Dispatch had a great reminder if you, like me, need a refresher course in Jewish history: “Hanukkah commemorates the reclamation by the Maccabees of the Second Jewish Temple [in Jerusalem] after it was desecrated by Syrian Greeks in the second century B.C.E. The Maccabees found only one day’s worth of suitable oil to fuel the menorah, but it miraculously lasted for eight days.”

By way of counterpoint, that great source of wisdom, Facebook, gave me a friend’s post today from Somee Cards that says, “Black Friday: Because only in America, people trample others for sales exactly one day after being thankful for what they already have.”

Both stories made me pause to ask myself how thankful I really am, and how much do I really trust God to provide what really matters in life. The first line of Psalm 23 says, “The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.” How much of what drives us in life are wants masquerading as needs? That’s an important question any time, but especially this week.

I remember worshipping several years ago at a small church in a low income urban neighborhood where material blessings were hard to come by. We sang one of my favorite hymns that day, “Great is Thy Faithfulness.” During the singing of that great hymn my attention was drawn to a member of the choir, a woman who is totally blind. As I looked at the pure joy and peace on her face as we sang the words, “All I have needed Thy hand has provided,” I was moved to tears of humility and shame. How often do I throw myself a pity party for some irritating inconvenience or minor ailment, while others suffer the real “slings and arrows of outrageous fortune” with grace and gratitude?

My prayer this Thanksgiving and Hanukkah and for the consumer-driven madness of Black Friday is for a simple faith in the providence of a God who takes one day’s oil and says, “Trust me. You’ve got enough.”

“Sent,” John 20:19-22, Micah 6:8

by Steve Harsh, posted in Christian Discipleship, Faith and Politics, Faith and Values

In John 20:21 Jesus says, “As God has sent me, so I send you.” Let me share a couple stories about why and how the church is sent in mission and service. I walked into the church last Friday and smelled the wonderful aroma of 8 large pots of soup being prepared to feed hungry people at the Church for All People in downtown Columbus. Jerome UMC provides those 8 pots of soup and other food every Friday of the year in a ministry called Soup for the Soul. I did some quick math and realized that adds up to about 400 hundred pots of soup each year that serve homeless and hungry people.

The Appalachian Service Project team (ASP) recently spent a weekend in Guyan Valley, W.Va. One of the people ASP served this year was Mary, an 80 year-old retired school employee. Mary lives in a modest modular home, one of the neatest and cleanest the ASP team says they’ve seen in the 10 years they’ve been doing this work. But Mary’s house needed repairs that she couldn’t afford and her son could not do because of health concerns. Mary now has a new roof and porch thanks to ASP, and she was so grateful she cried that this group of total strangers would give of their time and effort to help her. But Mary had a deeper need. She’s lonely, and in the words of one of the missionaries, “would talk all day if we would listen… and we DID.” He summed it up very well when he said, ‘our mission work is not about the work we do, but the feeling that we give people that someone cares. Mary understood that and now we do.”

Two of our church members just came back yesterday from a medical mission trip to Haiti. They were there last fall too and got stranded for a few days by Hurricane Sandy. They told me that turned out to be blessing because in the extra days they were “forced” to be there, they were able to reach people that they otherwise would not have. Including kids who had not eaten in four days, kids with orange hair (not for Halloween, but because that’s what malnutrition does to your hair), and a family living in an open field during that storm. They set up a tent for that family that had no shelter, and while they did that others in the group shared the Gospel through translators. A naked little boy in the family was shaking from the cold, and one of the volunteers took the shirt off her back and gave it to him. They told me, “It was the most touching thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”

We don’t have to go to Haiti or Appalachia or even inner city Columbus to serve God’s children. Service opportunities are all around us everyday and are as varied and numerous as the talents represented in this room – to teach, cook, sew, paint, build Habitat homes, make music, extend hospitality to guests new to the church. Whatever your talents are, what is clear from the Scriptures that we as Christians are all called to serve others in some way. In our Scripture lesson today from John, Jesus says, ‘As God has sent me, so I send you.”

As we celebrate the wonderful mission and service the church is already doing, we have to keep asking ourselves where else is God calling us to go. To be sent means movement – it means going somewhere on a mission, with a purpose. Often being sent on an errand or a work assignment or to comfort a sick or grieving friend calls us to move out of our comfort zone and do things we’ve never tried before and would rather not do. The “As God sent me” part of John 20:21 gives me pause. Jesus was sent to the lost, the lonely; he was sent to confront people with their sin and unfaithfulness; he was sent to expose injustice and oppression; and his prophetic witness got him into a lot of hot water with people of power in his day. He was sent to sacrifice his own comfort to serve and save others – and guess what, he needs us to do the same.

Maybe teaching a class of pre-schoolers is out of your comfort zone – or visiting a nursing home – or talking about your faith to a new neighbor who lives in a house that costs a whole lot more than yours. Where is God sending you? The point is, Christian discipleship is much more than a nice warm comfortable relationship with Jesus. Jesus welcomes us into his merciful arms and loves us – but that is not our resting place — then he sends us out to do his work.

So what does the Lord require of you and me? The Hebrew prophet Micah asked that very question. In Micah 6:8 we read, “He has showed you what is good, and what the Lord requires of you is to do justice, love mercy and walk humbly with your God.” The verses leading up to this verse describe the easy way the Hebrew people wanted to get right with God. They simply wanted to offer animal sacrifices on the altar at the temple and hope that would appease God and get them off the hook for any sin they had committed. Micah says, not so quick folks – God sees through our attempts to use rituals and ceremonies to cover up our lack of righteous living. Worship, rituals and ceremonies are good as far as they go – but they aren’t enough. God is much more concerned about how we live our lives Monday through Saturday than just how we spend Sunday mornings.

We all have a pretty good idea of what mercy is. That word in Micah is also sometimes translated as kindness. So I want to focus on the other two key words in that verse, Justice and Humility. We sometimes use the English word justice to mean punishment, as in “she got her just reward.” We have a department of justice that is about laws and punishment. But the biblical term “mishpat” is much broader than that. That Hebrew word for justice means fairness and righteousness – living in a right relationship with God’s will and making sure others are assured of an equitable and fair life, especially the weak and powerless. The phrase “with liberty and justice for ALL” in our pledge of allegiance reflects that vision of what life should look like for all of God’s children. And where that liberty and justice is lacking, that’s where God sends us to help make it so.

Notice Micah says we are to DO justice. Justice here is not just a noun, but a verb, an action. It’s the same idea expressed in the letter of James when he says, “Be doers of the word and not hearers only.” What does doing justice look like? There was a story on NPR last week about a trailer park community in Palo Alto, California looking for justice. These hard-working people live modestly, often working more than one job to provide for their families. Their blessing and curse is that they live near Silicon Valley and developers want to displace all the residents to build luxury condos and apartments. The people in those trailer homes want to stay there because some of the best schools in California are there. Those schools are providing a way for the next generation to improve their lives. But, as the NPR commentator said, “they are confronting the harsh realities of money.“ The average home in that area costs $2 million.

Is it just that those who need the most help to break out of the cycle of poverty have fewer resources to do so? When I compare the urban school I used to tutor in to the wonderful suburban schools my grandchildren attend, it’s like two different worlds. Is that justice, fairness and equality? It’s tempting to say that’s not our problem. We’ve got enough of our own! But it is our problem if we take seriously what the Scriptures tell us God requires of us.

There was once a village on the banks of a river where people would sometimes have to be rescued who had fallen in the river somewhere upstream. As the rescues became more frequent the village built a rescue station and staffed in 24/7 and saved hundreds of lives. They were proud of their work, but one day a young woman said to the village elders, “it’s a good thing to rescue people, but I wonder what is causing people to be in the river so often. Why don’t we go upstream and find out why people are ending up in the river in the first place? Doing justice is not just rescuing the perishing, as important as those acts of mercy are. We are also called to change the systems and conditions that put people at risk for poverty, hunger, discrimination, or any other injustice. And God sends us to the ballot box, to the school board or the legislature, to write letters to the editor–to do justice.

Micah says we are also to “walk humbly with your God” – what does that mean? In a word, it’s the O word. The O word is not one we like to hear, it’s “obedience.” Humble obedience means that when God says “go” we don’t bargain or make excuses; we go where we are sent.

Does that feel overwhelming, a bit scary? It sure does to me. I preach this stuff better than I practice it. Where do we get the strength and courage to go where God is calling us to serve? This passage from John addresses that question. The disciples are afraid and for good reason. They have just seen their beloved leader brutally crucified. John tells us they are hiding from the Jews. Can’t blame them – I would too, but I wonder if they weren’t also hiding from God who wants to send them into that same world that killed Jesus? You’ve heard the advice to never play leap frog with a unicorn? Well it’s also not a good idea to play hide and seek with God. Won’t work. That’s where the phrase “you can run but you can’t hide” probably originated.

John says the doors are locked in that upper room and Jesus comes right into the room anyway. How he did that is an interesting question we could explore, but that’s not really the point. Jesus coming into that locked room means that God breaks through whatever barriers we try to put up – whatever excuses we offer: I’m too old, too young, too poor, too busy, not good enough, too scared. “Sorry,” Jesus says, “it’s your turn now.”

The best Easter sermon I ever heard was by Bishop Dwight Loder, and the phrase I remember from that sermon is this. Bishop Loder said, “Jesus was not resurrected by the church. He was not resurrected for the church. He was resurrected AS the church.” We are the body of Christ, and as such God sends us in mission and service to the least and the lost. We are transformed by the salvation of Christ, but the story doesn’t end there. We are transformed so we can go out and transform the world into a place of justice, mercy and humility.

How in God’s name can we do that? Exactly – we can only do it if we do it in God’s name and with God’s power. And here’s the good news – that power is ready and available for anyone who is willing to accept it and surrender to it.
Do you want peace in your life? We all do – real peace that only God can give, the peace that passes all human understanding. The secret to finding that peace is right here in John 20. The first thing Jesus says to the disciples is “Peace be with you.” He doesn’t send them out looking for peace on E-bay or Craig’s list; he imparts it in their hearts and then sends them out. We don’t find or create that kind of peace; it finds us, in the midst of our doubts, not after all our doubts are resolved.

How does that work? Notice what happens right after Jesus says “As God has sent me, so I send you.” “When he had said this, he breathed on them and said to them ‘receive the Holy Spirit.’” He breathed life into them just as God breathed life into humankind in the creation story. God’s Holy Spirit empowers before it sends us out to serve.
But here’s the catch – that powerful spirit only comes in surrender. True peace only happens when we are vulnerable enough to get up close and personal with God. You have to get very close to let someone breathe on you. The question is do we want Jesus getting that close? Invading our personal space, meddling with our priorities? That’s scary. But, if we let down our barriers and allow Christ into our hearts we are empowered by the Holy Spirit to humbly and obediently do justice and act mercifully – outside our comfort zones in the world God sends us into. To say with all the saints that have gone before us, “Here I am, Lord, send me!”

[This sermon was preached at Jerome UMC on October 27, 2013]

Detours

by Steve Harsh, posted in Faith and Values

We are having an epidemic of detours and road closures in our neighborhood this summer. Orange barrels and detour signs are growing faster than the weeds in the garden. It’s easy to complain about the inconveniences but the detours also are a great metaphor for all the obstacles we encounter on the way to our goals. We can go victim and give up when those obstacles occur, or we can accept the challenge to get creative and find another way to get where we want to go. Sometimes those roadblocks are built of anger or pain that keep us from reaching out for the help we need. Two of the major roads leading to our church are closed this summer, just like some of our normal avenues to God seem to quit working just when we need God most. But there are always multiple ways to get to any destination if we are determined and willing to ask for directions. So, to my Jerome church family, don’t let the detours keep you from church, and to all of us, don’t let the roadblocks in life keep us from being all we can be.

Listen to Jesus

by Steve Harsh, posted in Christian Discipleship, Faith and Politics, Faith and Values

Of all the millions of words contributed to the gun violence debate since Newtown, there is one scripture that seems most relevant to me that I have not heard anyone cite. Come to think of it I have not heard anyone in our “Christian” nation quote Jesus on the matter at all. I understand the fear that motivates people to want to protect themselves and the ones they love. When in mortal danger it is quite natural to want to defend oneself. When Jesus was being arrested in the Garden of Gethsemane by heavily armed Roman soldiers his disciples quite naturally wanted to defend and protect him. One of them drew a sword and “struck the slave of the high priest, cutting off his ear” (Matt. 26:51). Jesus’ immediate response is to rebuke his disciple, “Put your sword back into its place; for all who take the sword will perish by the sword” (v. 52).

That verse came to my mind again this week when I read one of most tragic gun violence stories yet. It is hard to shock us these days when we have seen and heard about far too many violent deaths, but this one really amazed me. Ironically, In the May 2nd edition of The Columbus Dispatch (p. A3) the AP story appeared right next to a story about the NRA convention being held in Houston this weekend. A 5-year-old boy in Burkesville, KY accidentally shot and killed his two-year-old sister this week. As tragic as that is, it gets much worse. Kristian Sparks was playing with his own rifle, a gift someone gave him last year, and his mother thought nothing of it until she heard the gun go off and found her 2-year-old daughter Caroline had been hit with a single fatal shot to the chest. The story says, “Kristian’s rifle was kept in a corner of the mobile home, and the family didn’t realize a bullet had been left in it.”

And it gets worse from there. You can’t make this stuff up. “In this case, the rifle was made by a company that sells guns specifically for children.” (The company “Cricket Rifles,” I discovered, has taken down its web site for obvious reasons that won’t do Caroline any good.) You can Google “my first rifle” to find all kinds of national reactions to this tragedy.) The AP news story goes on, “’My First Rifle’ is the slogan—in colors ranging from plain brown to hot pink to orange to royal blue to multicolor swirls.”

Christ have mercy. Somehow I don’t think marketing hot pink rifles to 5 year olds was what the 2nd amendment was designed to promote. The haunting refrain of an old Peter, Paul and Mary song, “Where have all the flowers gone?” keeps running through my head as my heart breaks for Kristian and Caroline and their family. The old folk song asks over and over again, “When will we ever learn, when will we ever learn?”

Boston: Words of Truth and Hope

by Steve Harsh, posted in Christian Discipleship, Faith and Politics, Faith and Values

Anne Lamott posted these powerful words on Facebook this week and they strike me as powerful words of truth and hope in a very scary time. I just want to say Amen and pass them on.

Frederick Buechner wrote, “Here is the world. Beautiful and terrible things will happen. Don’t be afraid.”

But it is hard not to be afraid, isn’t it? Some wisdom traditions say that you can’t have love and fear at the same time, but I beg to differ. You can be a passionate believer in God, in Goodness, in Divine Mind, and the immortality of the soul, and still be afraid. I’m Exhibit A.

The temptation is to say, as cute little Christians sometimes do, Oh, it will all make sense someday. Great blessings will arise from the tragedy, seeds of new life sown. And I absolutely believe those things, but if it minimizes the terror, it’s bullshit.

My understanding is that we have to admit the nightmare, and not pretend that it wasn’t heinous and agonizing; not pretend it as something more esoteric. Certain spiritual traditions could say about Hiroshima, Oh, it’s the whole world passing away.

Well, I don’t know.

I wish I could do what spiritual teachers teach, and get my thoughts into alignment with purer thoughts, so I could see peace and perfection in Hiroshima, in Newton, in Boston. Next time around, I hope to be a cloistered Buddhist. This time, though, I’m just a regular screwed up sad worried faithful human being.

There is amazing love and grace in people’s response to the killings. It’s like white blood cells pouring in to surround and heal the infection. It just breaks your heart every time, in the good way, where Hope tiptoes in to peer around. For the time being, I am not going to pretend to be spiritually more evolved than I am. I’m keeping things very simple: right foot, left foot, right foot, breathe; telling my stories, and reading yours. I keep thinking about Barry Lopez’s wonderful line, “Everyone is held together with stories. That is all that is holding us together; stories and compassion.”

That rings one of the few bells I am hearing right now, and it is a beautiful crystalline sound. I’m so in.

“Fear: False Evidence Appearing Real,” I Kings 19:1-15

by Steve Harsh, posted in Christian Discipleship, Faith and Values

I have a few moments in life that are free of fear and worry – I call them moments of sheer panic. But with God’s help, there’s another name for such moments – we call them “peace.”

Travelers insurance ran a series of TV commercials a few years ago about fear. One of my favorites showed a bunch of cute bunnies who are confronted by a very large menacing rattle snake. We see the panic in their little rabbit eyes. But then something strange happens. The rabbits all start laughing hysterically, and as the camera pans around to show a full view of the snake, we see why. Instead of a real rattle, this snake has a pink baby rattle duct taped to his tail. And the announcer says, “Let Travelers take the scary out of life.”

With all due respect to any of you who are in the insurance industry – we can’t really take the scary out of life thru any kind of financial instruments. We even call our investments “securities.” But as we know from the recent roller coaster recession, they aren’t always. I hasten to add that we all need insurance because insurance can take some of the pain out of accidents and life events. When Hurricane Ike took half the roof off our house a couple of years ago we were very glad to have coverage that paid most of the cost of putting a roof back over our heads. But any time we get high winds and ominous skies and the tornado sirens are wailing, it’s still scary.

I even read in the Columbus Dispatch recently that you can now buy divorce insurance. Honest, I’m not making that up. What a great wedding gift for the couple that has everything? Sort of seems like betting against your own team, doesn’t it? I’ll check with Pete Rose about that next time I see him.

The problem is that it’s not insurance we need, its assurance. We all know money can’t buy happiness (even though we keep trying). Well, you can’t buy peace of mind either. That’s putting trust in things that “thieves can steal and rust and moths can consume,” – to quote Jesus in Matthew 6. Nothing that’s finite and material can give us peace because none of that stuff will last forever.

I mentioned the prophet Elijah in my Ash Wednesday post on “Transfiguration” a few weeks ago, and his story is worth a deeper look for what it can teach us. I Kings 19 tells how Elijah learned up close and personal how scary and uncertain life can be. Remember the job description for a ‘prophet’ in the Bible is not a fortune teller, but someone who speaks God’s truth to powerful people who need to hear it, and who usually don’t want to. It’s not a job for sissies. To understand Elijah’s fear, we need the back story that precedes chapter 19. In those chapters Elijah gets engaged in a super bowl contest with the prophets of Baal, one of the pagan gods in Israel. The odds are not good in this contest. 450 prophets of Baal vs. only 1 prophet for Yahweh, and that prophet is Elijah. The contest is pretty simple. Each team calls upon their god to send fire down from heaven and ignite a big bonfire they have built around an altar. The 450 prophets of Baal go first and try everything they can think of to implore Baal to show his power. Nothing happens.

When it’s Elijah’s turn, he decides to up the ante. He pours gallons and gallons of water on the wood piled around the altar. If any of you have ever been camping and tried to build a fire with wet wood, you know how difficult that is. But Elijah calls on Yahweh, and the altar is consumed in flames. And then the story takes an ugly turn. Elijah gets a little carried away with himself and his victory. It’s sort of like football players celebrating too much after a touchdown, only much, much worse. Elijah killed all of the prophets of Baal. I’m guessing he was still a little afraid of a rematch in a BCS bowl game; so he wasn’t taking any chances. But very seriously, we need a footnote and reminder that whenever we read these kinds of Hebrew scriptures that seem to glorify vengeance we need to read them thru the filter of Jesus’ commands that we love our enemies and turn the other cheek. Violence and revenge only perpetuate more of the same until someone says “enough, this is just not working.”

And speaking of vengeance – that’s exactly where we pick up the story in I Kings 19. Verse one says, “Ahab told Jezebel all that Elijah had done.” Oops – now, Elijah is in deep do do. Ahab and Jezebel were king and queen of Israel and big fans of the false god Baal and his prophets. And Jezebel hasn’t heard Jesus’ message about loving enemies. She’s from the eye for an eye school, and when she threatens to kill Elijah he knows she means business. Let’s just say Jezebel was never in the running for Miss Congeniality.

So Elijah, quite understandably, is afraid. His flight or fight mechanism kicks in, and knowing he has no chance to win a power struggle with the wicked queen, he gets out of Dodge post haste. He goes a day’s journey into the wilderness and leaves his servant behind so he can be as alone as he feels. He is so scared and discouraged that he simply plops himself down under a solitary broom tree and asks that he might just die and get it over with.

Ever had times in your life when you are just ready to give up – when all hope is lost? Elijah is overwhelmed by fear and uncertainty. Life is coming at him fast in the form of Jezebel’s hit men, and he sees no way out. He has forgotten about the God of Moses and Ruth and Abraham and Sarah who can make a way out of no way.

There are several lessons we can learn from Elijah about coping with uncertainty in our lives:

Lesson 1: God provides for our needs.

Elijah has forgotten God, but God hasn’t forgotten Elijah. God sends room service – an angel touches him, not once but twice, and says “get up and eat or the journey will be too much for you.” And that angel is not just talking about Elijah’s trip from point A to B. He’s talking about the journey of life. When we are lost and lonely and grieving, we frequently lose our appetite or literally forget to eat. But God provides for our needs—both physical and spiritual– when we’re ready to receive them–and frequently in most unexpected ways.

Elijah eats the food provided by God, and it must have been really good food. The text tells us that “on the strength of that food Elijah went on for 40 days and nights,” Why 40? The same reason Lent is a 40-day period of preparation for Easter. 40 is a Biblical number that is used often to show us how long God provides for us; and the answer is for as long as it takes. Noah’s flood lasted 40 days and nights. The Hebrews wandered in the wilderness for 40 years. Jesus was tempted in the wilderness for 40 days. And Elijah travels for 40 days. All of that means God is with us for the long haul. The 40’s are not necessarily literal numbers but a way to remind us that God provides for us for as long as it takes, no matter how long that is.

And please note where Elijah’s journey takes him – to Mt. Horeb, the mount of God. Horeb is another Hebrew name for a mountain we know better as Mt. Sinai, the very place that Moses ascends during the Exodus to receive the 10 commandments. Just as we call that big mountain in Alaska “Denali” or “McKinley” because it was named by different tribes of people at different times, so the Hebrews had two names for this Holy place where God’s presence was found.

Elijah thought he was running away from evil, but he was really running to God. He doesn’t know it, apparently, just as we are often surprised when we stumble into God when we least expect to, because there is no place we can go that God is not already there.

Lesson 2: We are never separated from God.

And that’s another important lesson for us to learn from this story – we can run, but we can’t hide from God. God comes to Elijah in the cave where he is hiding and asks a haunting question that we all need to hear. God says, “what are you doing here Elijah?’ And Elijah takes the question, as we often do, too literally. He goes into this long sob story about how awful his life is and why he needs to hide, and how he’s the only faithful person left on the face of the earth. But the question for Elijah and for us is not so literal – it’s a life purpose and mission question – what are we doing here? What is our life purpose as individual Christians, as a church, as citizens of a troubled nation and world? What are we doing to make a difference? Hiding because we’re afraid, because life is coming at us too fast? Saving up for a rainy day instead of trusting God’s abundance and providence to meet our needs? Snarfing up all the manna from heaven we can find in case God reneges on his promise and fails to provide daily bread for us tomorrow or next week? Because we trust God to provide for us every day, the Lord’s prayer doesn’t ask for food to last us until spring or until the economy recovers – we simply pray “give us this day our DAILY bread.”

What are we doing here? Shaking in our boots, making excuses, complaining about how awful those politicians or CEO’s or terrorists, relatives, bosses, kids, spouses, teachers, coaches, preachers… are making our lives? Or are we drawing on the resources of our faith and our mighty God and living lives of faithfulness–confronting our fears and turning them over to the only one who can ever really take the scary out of life.

Lesson 3: Most Fear = False Evidence Appearing Real

Most fears are false evidence appearing real, but the only way to know that is to face them. You can’t defeat an imaginary foe. Our granddaughter once told her little brother that there were vampires living in the closet in his room. For weeks he was afraid to go into his room alone because he believed his sister’s false evidence was real. Elijah was afraid because he believed he was totally alone, doomed, abandoned by God and everyone else. He believed that he was dead meat, and as we will see, he was dead wrong on all counts. His fear was fed by false evidence appearing real.

Lesson 4: We all need time alone with God ….

The next lesson here is that Elijah needs rest – time alone with God. And we all need that. Turn off the “smart” phone and computer and Ipod and tv and telephone, and take time, regularly to relax, re-create our bodies, minds and souls. We all need vacations, sabbaticals, retreats – even Jesus did, and if he did, what makes us think we don’t? We need time to listen for God’s still small voice. As Elijah learns, God doesn’t always speak to us in earthquakes or wind or fire, but in what one translation calls “the sound of sheer silence.” In other words, if we want to hear what God is telling us, we need to shut up and listen. And that includes when we pray. Don’t just spend all your prayer time telling God things God already knows! Take time to listen.

Lesson 5: We need time alone with God… But, we can’t stay there permanently.

Next lesson, yes, we do regularly need retreats – time alone, but we can’t stay there permanently. In the Gospel accounts, when Jesus takes Peter and James and John with him for a mountain top experience and Elijah and Moses appear to them, the disciples first reaction is to homestead there. They want to build houses for Jesus and Moses and Elijah, but Jesus says, no. He knows they have much work to do down in Jerusalem and can’t stay on the mountain forever.

My church’s mission statement says “We share God’s love by words and action.” We need to walk our talk. God’s question is what are we doing here? The letter of James says “faith without works is dead.” We can’t work our way into heaven, but we also know that faith inspires lives that bear good fruit. Of course it is important to be assured of our personal and individual salvation – but that’s only half the gospel. Remember that when asked what the greatest commandment was, Jesus didn’t stop with one. He said we need to love God with all our heart and soul and strength and mind, but then he says the second is equally important — love your neighbor as yourself.

OK, I can hear what many of you are thinking. It’s the “yes, but” moment in the sermon. You’re thinking, “that’s good, Steve. We believe it, but we’ve got too much to do. There are too many problems in the world. We can’t possibly fix them all. We’d like to help and we do what we can, but we feel so alone.” When the “yes, buts” raise their ugly heads, we need to get off our buts and trust God—because …

Lesson 6: We are NEVER in this Alone!

Perhaps the most important lesson of this Elijah story is that we are never alone, even though it often feels like we are. Elijah is never alone. He is suffering, but we all suffer. It’s part of the human condition. There are two parts to this lesson – we are obviously never away from God (see point #1 above). But sometimes we feel like little Johnny who was afraid of a storm and unable to go to sleep one night. His mother went in to comfort him and reminded him that he had learned in Sunday School that God and Jesus were always with him, that he wasn’t alone. And Johnny said, “Yes, Mommy, I know, but sometimes I need somebody with skin on them.”

We all do, and the Elijah story reminds us that we never without human partners if we’re willing to see them and accept the fact that our partners in mission don’t always look the way we expect them to look. God says to Elijah later chapter 19 – “Go on your way and as you go anoint Elisha to be a prophet in your place and anoint Jehu as new king of Israel, and by the way, there are still 700 faithful people out there who have not bowed the knee to Baal.” We are never alone if we are doing God’s work.

It is so important to face our fears because fear motivates retreat. Fear shrink wraps the Gospel when it makes us afraid of being prophetic, of challenging bigotry and judgmental thinking. That kind of fear is the spark for burning flags and Korans instead of promoting dialogue and tolerance for different perspectives. Fear is what wants to throw the baby out with the bath instead of finding the good in any situation or relationship or failure or political system. Living in assurance means building on those 700 faithful ones instead of letting one evil queen or king silence the truth. Fear keeps us from getting to know others who appear so different from a distance but have the same needs for love and grace all humans have. It is so much easier to judge or fear a stereotype than someone we know as a fellow human being.

Faith is the only antidote to fear that works – it allows us to laugh at our own foolishness, just as the rabbits crack up in the Travelers’ commercial. We love and laugh at our fears because we know that God alone can take the scary out of life. How do we know that? We know the cross of Calvary and the tomb on Easter are empty. We know that in the game of life, the powers of evil and hatred and fear have a big goose egg on the scoreboard, and God’s eternal, life-giving love is off the charts. It’s a worse mismatch than OSU vs. Eastern Michigan. No contest.

Paul says it best in Romans 8 – “If God is for us, who is against us. For we know that nothing – hear that, nothing in all creation, not fear, worry, death, powers or principalities, nothing in all creation, can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.”

I leave you with a great question: If you knew you could accomplish anything God wants you to do and were guaranteed that you could not fail – what would you do with your life? Well guess what? The good news of the resurrected living Christ that we model our lives after is that we can’t fail if we have God on our side. In Christ, God has already taken the scary out of life and death once and for all.

That means we have no excuse to run and hide when life comes at us fast. God says, hey Steve, hey church, I have already conquered the world – so what are you doing here?

At Home in the Universe, II Corinthians 5:6-6:2

by Steve Harsh, posted in Christian Discipleship, Faith and Politics, Faith and Values, Lectionary Texts

Do you remember what it was like to be at summer camp or some other foreign place and be so miserably homesick that you thought, and perhaps wished, that you would die? The gospel song that says, “Sometimes I feel like a motherless child” describes that horrible feeling for me. And homesickness is not merely a childhood disease. Adolescence, mid-life crises, old age are all life interruptions that are ways of describing recurring outbreaks of homesickness—of feeling broken, alienated and alone in a strange world where we often wonder what we’re doing here?
We try to cure our homesickness with a host of home remedies—large doses of education, exercise—be it running marathons or climbing corporate ladders, accumulating friends and/or lovers who fill our time and the lack of peace we feel. Power, money, prestige, new cars, new clothes, new houses, new jobs, new spouses, booze, beauty treatments, Grecian Formula. We try it all don’t we? And for the most part it is all a huge waste of time and money. Because when we let our defenses down and find ourselves alone with nothing to do—remember those were the times the homesickness got you at camp too? When we’re not too busy to think and feel, then the old feeling sneaks up on us and we start feeling like that motherless child again.
The sad part is that we all feel that lack of peace frequently. But we rarely let anyone know. The world is full of homesick, motherless and fatherless children, and Paul tells us in Corinthians that our job as ambassadors or instruments of peace is to comfort the homesick and assure them they can always come home again—to God, the only reliable true source of peace. The homesick need to hear that word of reconciliation now—to know that peace is not off in the distant future. It didn’t help to have some well-intentioned camp counselor tell me that my parents would pick me up at the end of summer camp on Saturday when it was only Tuesday. I wanted someone to comfort me and hold me right then. I wasn’t sure I would even live till Saturday! That’s why Paul says we are already new creatures in Christ. The day of deliverance has already come in the Prince of Peace from Nazareth.
That’s the good news we need we are to give one another. But as you well know, one homesick kid cannot cure another one. The disease will spread like an epidemic once the tears start to flow. So, if we are to be reconcilers, we need first to be reconciled to God. We need to be at peace ourselves if we have any hope of being peacemakers. We need to be made whole, cured of our own homesickness before we can help others who are lost and afraid.
We need to hear and know that there is only one cure for deep, ontological homesickness, and that cure is faith–faith that is deeper and distinguished from mere belief. Belief is holding certain ideas about something, or about life. Faith, on the other hand, is a more total and deeper response of inner peace and trust. For example, it is one thing to believe a parachute will open properly, to understand the physics of why and how parachutes work. But it is quite another thing to have enough faith or trust in a parachute to strap one on your back and jump out of a plane at 5000 feet.
Faith, according to theologian Wilfred Cantwell Smith, is “a quality of human living. At its best it has taken the form of serenity and courage and loyalty and service: a quiet confidence and joy which enable one to feel at home in the universe, and to find meaning in the world and in one’s own life, a meaning that is profound and ultimate, and is stable no matter what may happen.”
To be at peace means to “feel at home in the universe,” to know as the “Desiderata” says, that “You are a child of the universe, no less than the rocks the trees and the stars, you have a right to be here. And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should. Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive God to be….and keep peace with your soul.” To be at peace at home in the universe is to be at peace with oneself and God.
I have cherished a very powerful and concrete image of what it means to be at home in the universe since shortly after the space shuttle Challenger explosion in early 1986. Part of being at peace is an ability to find meaning and truth in unexpected and even tragic circumstances. For me, the final words from Commander Dick Scobee before the explosion have become a mantra for me of peaceful living. About sixty seconds after blast off Mission Control informed the Challenger crew that they were going back to full power, and Commander Scobee’s confident reply was, “Roger, Go With Full Throttle Up.”
When we are at peace we dare to live life with full throttle up, knowing as those astronauts did that there are serious risks in living. We know also that there are far more serious risks in refusing to face life’s challenges honestly and courageously. Chuck Yeager, a test pilot famous for his description of those early space pioneers who had “All the Right Stuff,” said after the Challenger explosion that “every astronaut and test pilot knows that such a tragedy can happen anytime you go up. But you can’t dwell on the danger or you would not be able to do your job.” Then he added, “There’s not much you can do about it anyway.”
Life is like that. We are all travelers on spaceship Earth, and like the Challenger 7, we are all sitting on enough firepower to blow us all to kingdom come several times over. That’s enough in itself to make us a little queasy, a little homesick, isn’t it? Even if we didn’t have to cope with the routine hassles of living—the doubts, the fears, the guilt, and the disappointments. But we all do have to cope with those things every day. And we all need a faith that will help us feel more at home and at peace in the midst of our hectic and often chaotic lives.
When I was 6 or 7 years old I discovered one sneaky cure for homesickness. I remember coming home with my family from a visit to my grandparents’ farm or my aunt and uncle’s house late in the evening. I would often fall asleep in the back seat of the car after a hard day of playing with my cousins, but I would wake up when the car pulled into our driveway. Sometimes I would pretend I was still asleep because I knew that if I did, one of my parents would carry me into the house and tuck me into my bed. It felt so good to be held in those strong, l loving arms. I felt so secure, the direct opposite of homesick. Don’t’ we all long for that kind of security and closeness at every age?
Then we grow up. We lose that peace in our necessary attempts to establish our independence. We move away, physically and intellectually from the simple belief structures that once made sense of life for us. We become, for better or worse, independent, responsible adults. And with that independence often comes the feeling of homesickness.
How do we get in that situation? It’s like a conversation I overheard between my in-laws several years ago. They were talking about how my mother-in-law used to sit right next to Dad in the car before they were married. This was in the days before bucket seats, of course. My mother-in-law was asking why that changed after they got married. My father-in-law finally just smiled and said, “Well, I’m not the one who moved.”
So it is with our human and heavenly parents. We are the ones who think we want distance and freedom. And that’s OK. We are the ones who get embarrassed when our parents want to hug and kiss us in public, and we’re much too grown up for that kid stuff. And that’s OK too. It’s all part of growing up. And we’re the ones who think God’s rules for living are too confining, too old-fashioned, and certainly our parents are. We are very sure we can do much better on our own. And that’s OK too. So we go out on our own and we blow it, not once, but several times, and that’s also OK. We learn from those experiences. But what isn’t OK is when we are too proud or guilty to admit that we were wrong or that we really do need help.
It’s hard to admit we’re wrong. People just love to say, “I told you so,” don’t they? So we don’t even try to be reconciled with family or friends or even with God because we’re afraid we’ll be rejected or ridiculed. Paul is trying to tell the Corinthians and us that just isn’t so in this passage from II Corinthians 5. “God does not hold our misdeeds against us.” We are forgiven and loved by the essence of Being itself. “The day of deliverance has already dawned.” Peace is here, now, for those who humbly accept it.
Jesus told a story once about a very homesick young man. You know the story from Luke’s Gospel (15:11-32), but you haven’t heard the letter I found recently from that young man to his father. Strangely enough, it was postmarked in Chicago. Listen:

Dear Dad,
I’m sorry it’s been so long. You’ve probably been worried sick about me, haven’t you? Well, I’ve been meaning to write, but I didn’t have any good news, and I didn’t want to worry you. I was in Florida for a year after I left home. I lost the money you gave me on some bad investments. I got mixed up in some drug dealing and spent some time in jail. Please don’t tell Mom. I’ve been bumming around the country doing odd jobs and stuff since I got out of the joint. I was living in a half-way house here in Chicago for several months till I got into a fight with one of the supervisors last week. They kicked me out.
Things are bad here, no jobs, no money. I’ve been living on the streets, eating at soup kitchens or anywhere I can find a meal. It’s a lousy way to live. But I guess I don’t deserve any better. I know now that you were right about staying in school. I’d sure do things different if I had it to do over.
I’m real sorry I hurt you and Mom. I’m embarrassed to ask this. I’ll understand if you don’t ever want to see me again. But I’m sick and cold and would appreciate it if I could come home, for just a little while. Just till I can find a job. I’ll pay you back for my room and board as soon as I can, I promise.
Your son, John

By overnight special delivery, John got a plane ticket and a letter from his father that simply said:

Dear John,
You can always come home, anytime.
I love you,
Dad

(This sermon is included in my book, “Building Peace from the Inside Out: Stories for Peacemakers and Peace Seekers,” chapter 12)

Transfiguration, Matthew 17:1-8

by Steve Harsh, posted in Christian Discipleship, Faith and Politics, Faith and Values, Lectionary Texts

The transfiguration story is one of my favorite Gospel scriptures, but that was not always the case. For a long time this story of Jesus talking to two dead guys seemed a little weird to me. What are we sophisticated, rational, scientific 21st century people supposed to do with this ghost story?

The breakthrough for me and this text came when I was able to suspend my literal questions of what and how and look at this story instead through theological lenses. That ah hah moment happened for me when, after preaching for several years, it finally dawned on me that this transfiguration story in one of the Gospels shows up every year in the same place in the church lectionary. And it is always on the Sunday before Lent begins at a major turning point in the Christian year. We have just come through the joy and light of Christmas and Epiphany and now stand on the brink of the somber dark purples and blacks of Lent. The transfiguration story, this mountain top experience, stands right in the middle of all that, between Bethlehem and Calvary

Matthew 17 begins with the phrase “six days later.” What does that mean? When we hear things like that inquiring minds immediately ask, “What happened six days earlier?” If you read Matthew 16 you find that what happened six days earlier was a “come to Jesus” meeting where Jesus asks the disciples some important questions about what people were thinking and saying about who Jesus is. The final and most important question Jesus put to the disciples (and therefore to us) was, “Who do you say that I am?” Good old Peter of course is eager to answer. “You are the Messiah, the son of the living God,” he proudly blurts out. And he’s right of course. Like us, he knows the right answer on this test, but as the ensuing verses of chapter 16 show, he and the other disciples really don’t know it means. He knows who Jesus is, but he doesn’t REALLY know.

So in the transfiguration story and the verses just before it Jesus addresses that problem. He is preparing his disciples for what is to come in Jerusalem and beyond, just as Lent is a time of spiritual growth and preparation for us as well. In chapter 16 Jesus has tried to tell them about his coming death and resurrection, and they don’t get it. Peter answers the question correctly about who Jesus is, but he doesn’t really understand or accept the cost of discipleship.

So six days later Jesus tries again. He and his three key disciples have a mountain top experience. Like all mountain top experiences, this one is short-lived. There’s no video, no crowds or witnesses – just three scared fishermen and Jesus in a powerful encounter with God.

At first Peter, James and John love it up there. The view is fantastic, it’s peaceful and quiet – they have a moving experience, probably feeling closer to God than ever before in their lives. So quite naturally they want that glorious moment to last as long as possible. They want to stay on the mountain and live the good life away from all the problems and clamoring crowds in the valley below.

John Ortberg in his book and DVD series, “It All Goes back in the Box,” describes the most dangerous object in our homes. It’s not the power tools or the kitchen knives. He says the most dangerous item in our houses is the EZ chair. We even call them La-Z Boys! They seduce us into object lessons of inertia, don’t they? You remember, “An object at rest tends to stay at rest?” That’s not to say we don’t need moments of rest and relaxation. Many of us are so busy “doing” all the time that we don’t make time to simply “be.” We need time in the EZ chair; we just can’t make that our permanent residence.

When the disciples lobby for homesteading on the mountain, Jesus sees a teaching moment. He knows his purpose is not fame and fortune or a comfortable retirement. His is not a theology of glory, but a theology of the cross. God never promised Jesus or us a rose garden – just the garden of Gethsemane. We know that. We’ve seen this movie before, and we know what’s coming next. But every year, isn’t there just a part of us that still would like to think Jesus was wrong. Maybe this year scholars will discover an EZ chair version of this story? One that gets us to Easter without Good Friday.

We know that won’t work, and Lent is time for us to ponder our relationship to that reality. How much are we like the disciples arguing over who gets the EZ chairs next to Jesus in heaven? Can’t we just homestead on the mountain, build little booths for Elijah and Moses and Jesus, and avoid the pain of the valley below. But the full abundant life is not real in isolation. We need regular retreats but not escapes. More than ever before we need regular times to turn off all our electronic gadgets and background noise and be with God. We need times of solitude to renew a right spirit within us, to get a proper perspective so we can see where God is calling us to go next. We just can’t stay there on the mountain top.

We and the disciples aren’t the only ones that want the EZ chair life. The scriptures are full of tales of those who try to run away from God’s call: Jonah called to go preach to the heathens in Nineveh instead boards a ship (hopefully not one of Carnival’s) heading to Tarshish, 180 degrees in the wrong direction. Elijah runs for his life from Queen Jezebel to Mt. Horeb (aka Sinai). These two great stories show us that even if we go to the depths of the sea or to the highest mountain, God will find us and ask what he asked Elijah, “Elijah, what are you doing here?” That’s a great question to ask ourselves every day during this season of Lent: “what are we doing here?” Is it what God is calling us to do or what we want to do?

If you remember the Elijah story from I Kings 19, Elijah doesn’t get to stay on the mountain either – he is called back down into the valley to share God’s word with those desperately needing to hear it and save them from worshiping false gods. But Elijah doesn’t go down alone – God appoints Elisha to partner with him and carry on after Elijah’s death. Jesus can’t go down the mountain alone either. He needs us to carry on God’s work in his stead. Do you hear that call – “This is my son – listen to him,” says the voice of God? Listen, and then follow him, back down into the valley where those who suffer need comfort, where corruption needs to be confronted and corrected–back into the world where Jesus teaches us that the poor will be with us always.

It is not a journey for sissies. Jesus knows it leads to that other mountain he can see in the distance; not one of glory with two saints – but one with crosses and two crooks. None of us like to suffer – it’s scary. No matter how strong our faith, death fills us with some level of anxiety and dread. As comedian Woody Allen so aptly put it, “I don’t mind dying, I just don’t’ want to be there when it happens.”

In the presence of God’s power we all tremble, and the disciples do too. Matthew tells us when they heard the voice of God they fell on their faces – ouch, and not a good position to do much from either. And then listen what happens – Jesus came and touched them and their fear is gone. They are transfigured, changed, and “when they looked up they saw no one except Jesus himself alone.”

Jesus alone is all we need to see us through the dark valleys. If we let him he provides us with the courage to overcome our fears – to come out of hiding, off our mountains of pride and comfort and live in the real world. Jesus speaks to us calmly about real life – joy, suffering, death and resurrection, and because he’s been there and done that – we know we can too.

Lent and especially Ash Wednesday calls us to affirm all of life – the thrill of victory and the agony of defeat – to embrace not only the joy of Easter but the passion of the journey that takes us there. That journey begins again tonight, and in the transfiguration story we get a glimpse of the glory of God that is revealed in its fullness on Easter morning.

I would encourage you to seek mountain top moments this Lent –times when you feel especially close to God. Those moments won’t happen unless we put ourselves in position to witness God’s glory. We don’t have mountain top life-changing experiences unless we take time to climb the mountain. The good news is we don’t need to physically climb a mountain or even a hill. We get close to God through prayer, study, service, fasting or whatever spiritual disciplines work for you.

When we do and take time to listen, God teaches us not to seek only the mountains of glory, but to accept our Calvaries too, our failure, our sin, our mortality – not fearfully and anxiously, but obediently and trusting in the will and redemptive power of God

God’s promise is that on both mountains – the mountain of glory and mountain of the cross–and in the valleys in between – Jesus journeys with us, not just for 40 days plus 6 Sundays. Jesus is with us for the long haul and walks with us “even to the end of the age.”

(Preached Ash Wednesday 2013 at Jerome UMC, Plain City, Ohio)