God’s peace – Page 7 – Peacefully Harsh

Thanksgivukkah

November 25, 2013 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

October 31, 2013 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]

Boston: Words of Truth and Hope

April 17, 2013 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

March 11, 2013 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?

I’VE GOT BAD NEWS AND GOOD NEWS, LUKE 4:14-30

January 19, 2013 by Steve Harsh, posted in Christian Discipleship, Faith and Politics, Faith and Values, Lectionary Texts, Uncategorized

Nationwide Insurance ran a pretty creative series of commercials a few years ago based on the slogan “life comes at you fast.” In one of my favorites there is a pastoral scene of a father swinging his little boy in an old fashioned swing made of a heavy rope and a board, tied to a sturdy oak branch. The dad pushes the little boy a couple of times, and then about the third time the boy swings back into the picture, he weighs about 250 pounds and knocks his poor father flat.

The sketchy details provided in the Gospels about the early life of Jesus remind me of that boy growing up very fast. If we combine all four Gospels, which makes what a friend of mine calls “Gospel stew,” we still only get one brief vignette of Jesus between infancy and adulthood, that being Luke’s account of Jesus in the temple with the elders when he is 12 years old. The next time we see Jesus in the Gospels is when he’s about 30 years old and being baptized by his cousin in the Jordan River.

There are lots of questions and speculation about where Jesus was during that 18 year gap because the Gospels are theology and not biography. The only true answer is that we don’t know where Jesus spent those 18 years. He may have been working in Joseph’s carpenter shop. More likely he was in some kind of religious community learning the traditions of his faith and preparing for his role as Messiah, God’s anointed one.

When he makes his first public appearance in ministry in his home town of Nazareth in Luke 4, we see immediately how challenging and dangerous being a Messiah can be.

In his first public proclamation Jesus reads from the prophet Isaiah and then asserts his claim that God’s spirit is upon him. Ok so far, we’re all God’s kids, created in God’s image. That’s the good news – God’s spirit is upon all of us. But immediately, Jesus makes a wrong turn and starts explaining what it means to have the spirit of God upon him or upon us. He says he is “anointed to bring good news to the poor, release captives, restore sight to the blind, and to let the oppressed go free.” Ok, we could maybe go for those last two – if we don’t’ think about it too much – like realizing that we are the blind that need our eyes restored or that the oppressed are going to want their share of the pie if we take our foot off their necks and let them up. But good news for the poor – what about us Lord? And release to the captives? You mean freeing the criminal element? Those potential terrorists at Guantanamo? Or folks on death row? Not so fast, Jesus.

Luke says the people still were cheering Jesus on at this point. They were “amazed at the gracious words from his mouth.” They haven’t quite figured out the catch yet. And then someone says, “Hey, wait a minute, this is Joe’s kid. We know him. He’s just a carpenter. What would he know about anything but nails and saw dust? How could the spirit of God be upon the likes of him?”

They start asking for proof. “We heard what you did in Capernaum. Show us your bag of tricks here too, Jesus!” And then Jesus goes over the edge – he pushes them too far, too fast. He starts spouting examples from the Bible, of all places, about how God has favored the Gentiles over the chosen Jews – in Sidon and Syria – and there goes the neighborhood. They are immediately filled with rage and try to throw him over a cliff. Oops. Stepped on the wrong toes there Jesus. But then, Luke’s punch line – “he passed through the midst of them and went on his way.” Almost a throwaway line, but it is Luke’s way of saying, “see, he really is the Messiah and you can’t stop him, no one can.” This is a preview of things to come when they really do kill him, or thought they did; and he passes through them again and goes on his way – because Jesus’ way is God’s way, not the way of people.

So, we know very early in Jesus’ story that it’s dangerous to claim a special relationship with God. Prophets get shot and stoned and run out of town all the time. That’s the bad news. The spirit of God is upon all of us, and there’s good reason to avoid claiming our own Messiahship. We feel unworthy, the responsibility is too heavy, and besides, the Greek word for “witness” also means “martyr.” No cowards need apply.

There was a story in the Ohio news a few years ago about the power of oneness with Christ. Thomas and Cynthia Murray appealed to Ohio Gov. Ted Strickland to spare the life of Gregory McKnight, a convicted murderer on death row. That’s not so unusual. Many people believe capital punishment is not a Christian response to violence. What is remarkable about the Murrays is that Mr. McKnight was convicted of kidnapping and killing their daughter, Emily, 7 years earlier. Emily was a 20 yr. old philosophy major at Kenyon College at the time of her abduction and murder. She was planning to become an Episcopal priest and was “passionately opposed to the death penalty.” Out of love and respect for their daughter and her beliefs, her parents asked for McKnight’s sentence to be commuted to life in prison. Can you imagine doing that if you were those parents? I’m not sure I could, even though I’d like to think I would have that courage and faith. The Murrays showed us the power of Christ to overcome hate and revenge with forgiveness and compassion.

Let’s back up. This story about Jesus in Nazareth comes right after his baptism. Remember Jesus was never ordained – no bishop’s hands ever weighed heavy on his head. In fact, no one had invented bishops yet. Jesus was baptized – just like you and me. So that means that the spirit of the Lord is also upon all of us, not just Jesus, and that our mission, should we choose to accept it, is also to proclaim release to the captives, good news to the poor, and sight for the blind!

Clergy sometimes tease each other about having a Messiah complex when we get a little too big for our britches and think we have to save the world in a single bound. That super pastor attitude might be reflected in this quote from one of my favorite authors, Nikos Kazantzakis. In his book, Saviors of God, Kazantzakis says, “My prayer is not the whimpering of a beggar or a confession of love. Nor is it the petty reckoning of a small tradesman: give me and I shall give you. My prayer is the report of a soldier to his general: this is what I did today, this is how I fought to save the entire battle in my own sector, these are the obstacles I encountered, and this is how I plan to fight tomorrow.“

There certainly might be an ego problem with that kind attitude (and I’m not crazy about the militaristic metaphor); but it may not be all bad, in fact may be very good, to take our faith and personal mission that seriously. One way to do that is for all of us to realize that the first two letters of Messiah are “me”.

That may sound crazy, but there’s a lot of biblical evidence for that idea. In John 14 Jesus says it plain and clear, “I am in God, and God is in me…. “The one who believes in me will also do the works that I do and, in fact, will do greater works than these, because I am going to God.” John 14: 12 says, “Whatever you ask in my name, this I will do.” Wow! How is that possible? Because, Jesus goes on …. “You know him (the spirit) because he abides with you and he will be in you.” (John 14: 17) And then in John 14: 20 Jesus caps it off by saying, “On that day you will know that I am in God and you in me, and I in you.”

That’s a good thing right – power. We can get Jesus and God to do whatever we want! Well, not quite – it says “whatever you ask – in my name, this I will do.” We can all think of some things that we might ask for that just might not qualify as “in Jesus’ name” right?

But there is something even more serious than that. If we are all one, i.e. “in” God and Jesus and vice versa, what does that mean for God’s expectations of us? If we are all God’s sons and daughters, as Jesus is – then are we not all Messiahs too? Messiah means “the anointed one.” Jesus was baptized by water in the Jordan. And we as Christian disciples have been baptized too – so far, all the same. The anointed part is a little trickier, or do we just make it so? Jesus says, “The spirit of the Lord is upon me.” Don’t you suppose that’s true of all of us too?

After a United Methodist pastor baptizes someone with water, he or she says, “the Holy Spirit work within you, that being born through water and the spirit, you may be a faithful disciple of Jesus Christ. “

Whoa, that sounds a lot like pride or hubris, and we all know that pride goes before a fall; and having God’s spirit upon or within us sounds like really big pride. That’s what the angry crowd at Nazareth thought when Jesus said it. What keeps us from claiming our special relationship with God, from believing that we can do even greater things than Jesus did? Is it true humility or false humility – what a friend of mine calls the “humble bit?” That’s when we just pretend to be humble because it serves our purposes and gets us out of living up to our potential. Is it fear of what other people will think or do, or fear of what is being asked of us? When Jesus claims his Messiahship in his home town, they immediately try to kill him. That’s not a great recruiting strategy, Jesus. Is it just easier to stay in the comfort of the status quo and not make any waves? Freeing captives and such stirs up trouble. Those who are in positions of comfort now won’t be very happy if they have to share their wealth with the down and outers. Oh, yes, a little charity at Christmas time is ok, but that’s not the same as changing the socio-economic rules we live by – the ones that have the system rigged in our favor.

But, even though the costs of claiming our Messiahship are obvious – the hidden cost of not doing so is even worse.

“Our hearts are restless until they rest in thee” is a famous quote from St. Augustine. What does that mean? It means there is no peace, genuine peace, until we claim our true identity. To be at war within ourselves, denying our true worth and mission and purpose may keep us “safe,” but it also prevents true peace of mind and spirit from ever being possible.

Have you ever tried to keep a secret that was eating at you and hard to keep? Or told a lie and then had to work at covering it up and remembering what you had told whom, so as not to blow your cover? Pretending to be something we aren’t is very hard work,. It takes a lot of emotional energy.

Many years ago I had the privilege of playing the role of Bert Cates in a production of “Inherit the Wind.” The play was demanding and required rehearsals late every night, and each night my part required that I fall in love on stage with a lovely young woman. And then, to preserve my marriage, I had to fall back out of love again before I got home to my wife. When the play was over I was exhausted – not just from the long hours, but emotionally exhausted from pretending to be something that I wasn’t.

And that’s also what happens all the time when we are at war with our very essence; we are tired and on edge, not close to being at peace. We all want peace in our world, but peace has to start in our own souls and hearts. That means knowing and being true to who we really are. In “Hamlet,” Shakespeare describes that important truth this way:

“This above all, to thine own self be true,
And it must follow, as the night the day,
Thou canst not then be false to any man.”

The internal conflict, the denial of our true selves as blessed children of God, me-ssiahs, happens at a deep level when we are convinced by a theology that overemphasizes the negative aspects of human nature. Too often we hear only half the Bible, that we are horrible sinners, unworthy folks who need to “bewail our manifold sins and wickedness” (as the old Methodist communion ritual said). But deep inside we know the truth, that we are created in the very image of God. You see what an internal civil war that creates.

But Jesus comes to proclaim that truth, the very good news to the poor and the poor in spirit. And that’s all of us. When we measure our value and worth by economic standards, we inevitably feel like failures. No matter how much we have in the bank, it is never enough – it could be gone tomorrow. One good hospitalization can wipe out the largest nest egg. And the same fear and negativity is true if we buy into the notion that our basic human nature awful and terrible at our core.

We are all sinners, yes, because we are fallible human beings who live in a world full of sin. But that is not who we really are. At the heart of our nature we are God’s children, created in God’s image. We are one with our Lord and God – as we are told by the creation story in Genesis and by Jesus, our fellow Messiah. He is the anointed one who proclaims at Nazareth and here today the good news that heals our spiritual blindness, sets us free from captivity to sin and fear, and empowers us to say yes to his call and to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.

“Who’s the Real King,” Matthew 2:1-20

December 30, 2012 by Steve Harsh, posted in Christian Discipleship, Faith and Politics, Faith and Values

Matthew’s story of the Magi reminds me of Susie who came home from Sunday school and proudly showed her father the picture she had drawn there. It was a picture of an airplane and through the windows there were four people visible in the plane, 3 in the back and one up front. Dad asking a very natural question not recommended for parents of young artists inquired, “What is it?” Susie replied, “It’s the flight into Egypt. See, there’s Mary and Joseph and baby Jesus in the plane.” Stifling his laughter, Dad got in deeper. “Oh, I see, and who is that in the front of the plane?” “Dad,” said Susie, “You should know who that is. It’s Pontius the Pilot.”

Matthew tells the story of the holy family’s escape into Egypt so briefly and matter of factly that it’s easy to pass over it too lightly as Susie did. This story of the magi and Herod is a significant addition to Luke’s more peaceful account of angels and shepherd. In Matthew the innocent babe of Bethlehem is not only homeless but is quickly forced to run for his life from a homicidal King Herod. What might this dark side of the Christmas story say to us today as we come to the end of another Christmas season with the horrors of Newtown and Rochester still hanging in the air? Matthew reminds us that Jesus didn’t come into a world of pretty lights, tinseled trees and holiday parties. He came into the real world, the world that had always stoned and rejected God’s prophets and resisted those who try to challenge the status quo.

Jesus came into a world where Caesar Augustus issued a decree to tax an oppressed people – a first century fiscal cliff if you will. There’s nothing wrong with celebrating the warmth and love of Christmas. We need breaks from our normal routine; we need to pause and ponder the meaning of life, to visit with friends and family; but lest we forget, Matthew 2 reminds us that like Jesus, when the party’s over, we must still live in the real world. Given Herod’s slaughter of innocent children, I’m sure there must have been some in Bethlehem who would have lobbied for an armed guard at the manger, or maybe the wise men should have been brought guns and ammo instead of Gold, frankincense and myrrh.

In the real world there is always the struggle between good and evil – has been since time began. It is both a cosmic and a personal conflict, which plays out here between Baby Jesus and King Herod, a symbol of all the power and violence and selfishness the world can muster. It seems a very unfair match doesn’t it, a helpless, defenseless new born baby vs. Herod’s armies? Gun powder vs. baby powder! But remember what Pastor Dave said on Christmas Eve – God loves the underdog. Baby Jesus is far from helpless, because he has God on his side, and we can have that same power on our side too if we worship the right king and not Herod’s kind of power. In the words of the great hymn, “Lead on O King Eternal,” Jesus wins this battle hands down, “not with swords loud clashing nor roll of stirring drums, with deeds of love and mercy, his heavenly kingdom comes.”

My son and daughter-in-law gave me the HBO series on John Adams for my birthday this fall, and those seven hours of viewing were a great way to spend some of my recovery time after my surgery. It’s a great series based on the biography of Adams by David McCullough, in part because it is so realistic in portraying how difficult the struggle for American independence was. Political debate raged for months about if or when independence from Great Britain should be declared. That first Christmas of the American Revolution in 1776 when Washington’s underfed, ill-equipped, poorly trained army looked doomed to an early defeat, Thomas Paine wrote his famous words, “These are the times that try men’s souls.” Talk about underdogs taking on the most powerful military empire in the world. Adams and the other members of that Congressional Congress knew they were literally risking their lives, committing treason by standing up to the power and authority of King George. But as Harry Emerson Fosdick once said, they chose to be “loyal to the royal” in themselves, to the inalienable rights of liberty and justice endowed upon all humans by our creator.

As in every generation we are also living in times that try our souls, and we face the same critical decisions every generation faces, to choose the ways of the world or the ways of the Lord. Let’s be honest, our priorities aren’t all that different than they were in Herod’s day. Aren’t we still overly impressed by the lifestyles of the rich and famous? Don’t we stress out and work too hard and go into debt for things we don’t really need and can’t afford?

Let’s not miss the radical point the story of Herod and the Magi makes, of these wise kings traipsing around the countryside looking for a poor little peasant baby born in a barn. But even these wise men are fooled at first- they go to Herod, looking for the newborn king. They expected him to be born in a palace, not a stable, and wouldn’t we make the same mistake today?

The Magi are symbols of worldly wisdom and power. They show true wisdom just in time when they see through Herod’s lies and follow the star to Jesus. And there they bow down and worship the true king, the one who doesn’t force his way upon us or try to impress us with wealth and power. Jesus instead shows us the power that is stronger than any bully or injustice—the power of love.

Herod represents a long line of despots: Pharaoh, Jezebel, Nebuchadnezzar, Nero, Hitler, Stalin, Saddam, and Osama. All rulers who appeared to be all powerful. Matthew tells us that Herod was so powerful that when he was upset about the news of Jesus’ birth, all of Jerusalem trembled in fear of his wrath. But like every bully Herod’s fear-based power is hollow. Herod is so insecure and threatened by a tiny baby that he orders the slaughter of innocent children, a horror all too real to us in 2012. How desperate Herod must have been. His desperation shows us that he feared others far more than they feared him. Herod’s kind of power cannot last long because it is built on fear and violence. Herod has the power of death, he can order men to kill babies and they do it. By contrast, Jesus came in the power of eternal life. He has nothing to fear because he is in touch with the power of God that conquers even death itself. Jesus stands for love and compassion, kindness and peace, eternal values that can be oppressed and oppressed, but never conquered – values that aren’t part of the Herodian vocabulary.

Jesus’ peaceful confidence and power are illustrated in a story by Madeleine L’Engle that tells about the holy family’s dangerous journey across the desert into Egypt. Wild animals and robbers were very real threats in the desert, and Mary and Joseph would have had to join a caravan for safety. The story is called “Dance in the Desert,” and as L’Engle tells it, the first night in the desert might have been like this:

“The child will be frightened,” one of the camel drivers said and with his great, calloused hands began to play upon a tiny reed pipe. A scrawny donkey boy ran into one of the tents and came out with an enormous horn, certainly heavier than he was, and managed to blow into it so that a braying squawk came out the end. The little boy laughed and clapped with joy as he sat on the young man’s knee in the circle around the largest of the fires.

Outside the circle, from the edges of the dark, came a deep, sustained roar. The camel driver dropped his pipe, his huge hand reaching for his knife. “It is a lion.” The tremor of fear that ran through the group touched everybody except the child. He slid off the young man’s knees and walked on his still unsteady legs to the edge of the circle. “Wait,” the mother said, as the camel driver reached for the little boy.

The firelight seemed dimmer, the moonlight on the sands outside brighter. At the crest of a dune stood a magnificent lion, completely still, so that he seemed like one of the stone carvings that the sands cover and then uncover on the desert floor. His tail began to twitch, not in anger or irritation, but in dignified rhythm. Then ponderously, he rose on his hind legs to his full height. The child stood at the edge of the circle of firelight, holding out his arms in greeting. The lion dropped back to his four paws and moved slowly to the company, not menacing, not stalking, but in measured, courtly circles. “He’s dancing!” the donkey boy said. “The lion is dancing!”

The camel driver’s grip relaxed, though he kept his hand on the knife’s hilt. At a responsible distance from the caravan the lion knelt on his forepaws, then dropped to his haunches and lay still on the sands, watching.”

Because Jesus is the real king, He has nothing to fear from any human king or the king of the beasts. That’s the same message the gospels tell us when Jesus shows his kind of power over and over again – refusing to use force, resisting Satan’s temptations of glory and worldly power, calming the seas, exorcising demons, healing the sick and raising the dead. And yet, even with all those signs of divine power, Jesus still had few real disciples. Why? Because most people then and now are fooled by Herod’s kind of phony power. We call the Magi wise because they eventually recognize who the real king is. Herod tries to order them around like he does everybody else. He lies to them about his desire to worship Jesus. But the Magi’s wisdom wins out. Their ultimate obedience is not to Herod, but to the real king, and they refuse to play into Herod’s evil hand.

It is one thing to recognize the real king and bring him gifts and worship him. That’s the easy part. The acid test is which king we obey when push comes to shove. In our heads we know that God will win in the long run, but we live in the short run, and that’s where we must show our loyalty to the true king if we want our world to become more like God’s kingdom. We have the choice, every day, and history sadly shows a lack of wisdom in our ability to recognize and follow the real king. Too many Herods have risen to power in our world. Too many innocent children have died. Following the Newtown massacre, everyone is asking what we can do to make our world a safer place. That’s a complicated question and a debate we need to take very seriously. But there’s one thing we all can do right now today to help change the world and that is to commit ourselves more fully to follow the prince of peace.

In a few days the Christmas trees and decorations will be gone, the manger scene will be packed away in its box, but the choice of which king we serve and how we will live in 2013 will remain. That choice affects how we relate to our families, friends, colleagues, how we respond to economic challenges, to the needs of the less fortunate. It affects everything we do, and we need to be constantly aware of that. Because the forces of evil are subtle and tricky. Herod will try anything to undermine our faith by fear and intimidation, tempting us with all kinds of lies about earthly comforts and rewards instead of eternal ones.

Nobody ever said allegiance to the real king is easy (and if they did, they were lying). Accepting Christ as our king is not a one and done decision. You can’t even do that with your driver’s license, you have to renew it regularly. Each Christmas we need to hear the story again, fresh and new, to be challenged by its simple yet profound truth. And every day we need to make a conscious choice to follow the one true King.

Several decrees go out in the Christmas story – one from Caesar Augustus ordering a census, one from Herod ordering a massacre. But the one we need to hear is the decree of the angels proclaiming the birth of the one true king, the savior of the world who conquers our fear forever. Let’s remember Jesus’ teaching on allegiance to authority. He taught us to render to Caesar only that which belongs to Caesar, but always and foremost to give our ultimate allegiance to the true king and Lord of all creation. Let us remember that this is not a new challenge – that way back in Deuteronomy the Hebrew people were faced with the same choice. And Joshua made it very clear when he said, “Choose this day whom you will serve.” And like Joshua, we pray for the wisdom of the Magi to respond today and every day, “As for me and my house, we will serve the Lord.”

A Christmas Eve Story

December 26, 2012 by Steve Harsh, posted in Christian Discipleship, Faith and Politics, Faith and Values

As I pondered what message to share at Jerome UMC on Christmas Eve in a December that felt much darker than most, I remembered a couple of wonderful stories that spoke to me, and I hope will to you also. As I thought about the struggle between good and evil in human nature, the first story that came to me is a Native American legend about a young child asking a grandparent why some people are kind and loving and others seem so cruel and violent. The grandparent responded that there is a constant struggle in every person between two wolves, one that is compassionate and nurturing, and another that is selfish and mean. “But which wolf wins that struggle?” asked the child. “The one we feed and nurture,” came the reply.

The image of the wolf reminded me of the second story, one that I had not told or thought about in years. It is in a collection of short stories by Martin Bell, and the book is called, The Way of the Wolf, where the wolf is a metaphor for God. When I looked for the story on line I was blessed to find an excellent introduction and conclusion to this story which I adapted slightly, but want to give credit to stjohns-online.org for setting the context. Here’s the message I shared at the 11 pm Christmas Eve service at my church, Jerome UMC near Dublin, Ohio:

Christmas is a time for telling stories. Some are ancient stories: about shepherds and angels and a baby born in a barn. Some of them are stories from our childhood – stories of elves and flying red-nosed reindeer, of snowmen who come to life under the spell of Christmas magic, and of Santa Claus. Each season brings new stories, stories that capture in a new way some of the miracle of the first story, the story of God’s love for us – a love so deep and marvelous that it came alive one night – it became “Emmanuel,” “God with us.”

We tell stories because they touch our hearts and not just our minds. They help us enter into the mystery of Truth that is larger than our reason and logic can explain. Stories reveal different levels of truth that reach us wherever we are ready to receive them on any given day. Christmas is a time for telling stories.

So often the story of Jesus is portrayed as a kind of romantic, sentimental tale – not unlike the decorations and secular stories and carols we hear this time of the year. Christmas is seen as a time of fellowship and fine food, a time to put aside just for a while, the things that divide us, at least until the After-Christmas sales. It is forgotten how marvelous and how expensive a gift Christmas really is, that the manger and the cross are both made of the same wood; that this small child, this enfleshment of God’s love, was sent not just to be a gift, another trinket for us to wear around our necks for a season, but came to show us what God’s love is all about – a love that is willing to die for us, a love that came as the angels told the shepherds that is to save us from all fear and give us eternal peace.

That is where Christmas really begins. That is why we tell the Christmas story again tonight – because of who Jesus became, what he taught, how he lived, and how he died but lives eternally. Tonight we celebrate the greatness of the Christmas gift. And we remember the cost. To do that, I’d like to share the story of God’s love for us, even as Jesus often did, through the telling of another story – a kind of parable by Martin Bell, “The Tale of Barrington Bunny.”

Barrington Bunny: A Christmas Story

by MartinBell

ONCE upon a time in a large forest there lived a very furry bunny. He had one lop ear, a tiny black nose, and unusually shiny eyes. His name was Barrington.

Barrington was not really a very handsome bunny. He was brown and speckled and his ears didn’t stand up right. But he could hop, and he was, as I have said, very furry.

In a way, winter is fun for bunnies. After all, it gives them a opportunity to hop in the snow and then turn around to see where they have hoped. So, in a way, winter was fun for Barrington.

But in another way winter made Barrington sad. For, you see, winter marked the time when all of the animal families got together in their cozy homes to celebrate Christmas. He could hop, and he was very furry. But as far as Barrington knew, he was the only bunny in the forest.

When Christmas Eve finally came, Barrington did not feel like going home all by himself. So he decided that he would hop for a while in the clearing in the center of the forest. Hop. Hop. Hippity-hop. Then he cocked his head and looked back at the wonderful designs he had made.

“Bunnies,” he thought to himself, “can hop.” And they are very warm, too, because of how furry they are.” (But Barrington didn’t really know whether or not his was true of all bunnies, since he had never met another bunny.) When it got to dark to see the tracks he was making, Barrington made up his mind to go home. On his way, however, he passed a large oak tree. High in the branches there was a great deal of excited chattering going on. Barrington looked up. It was a squirrel family! What a marvelous time they seemed to be having.

“Hello, up there,” called Barrington.

“Hello, down there,” came the reply.

“Having a Christmas party?” asked Barrington.

“Oh, yes!” answered the squirrels. “It is Christmas Eve. Everybody is having a Christmas party!”

“May I come to your party?” said Barrington softly.

“Are you a squirrel?”

“No.”

“What are you, then?”

“A bunny.”

“A bunny?”

“Yes.”

“Well, how can you come to the party if you’re a bunny? Bunnies can’t climb trees.”

“That’s true,” said Barrington thoughtfully. “But I can hop and I’m very furry and warm.” “We’re sorry,” called the squirrels. “We don’t know anything about hopping and being furry, but we do know that in order to come to our house you have to be able to climb trees.” “Oh, well,” said Barrington. “Merry Christmas.” “Merry Christmas,” chattered the squirrels. And the unfortunate bunny hopped off toward his tiny house.

It was beginning to snow when Barrington reached the river. Near the river bank was wonderfully constructed house of sticks and mud. Inside there was singing.

“It’s the beavers,” thought Barrington. “Maybe they will let me come to their Party.” And so he knocked on the door.

“Who’s out there?” called a voice.

“Barrington Bunny,” he replied.

There was a long pause and then a shiny beaver head broke the water.

“Hello, Barrington,” said the beaver.

“May I come to your Christmas party?” asked Barrington.

The beaver thought for awhile and then he said, “I suppose so. Do you know how to swim?”

“No,” said Barrington, “but I can hop and I am very furry and warm.”

“Sorry,” said the beaver. “I don’t know anything about hopping and being furry, but I do know that in order to come to our house you have to be able to swim.”

“Oh, well,” Barrington muttered, his eyes filling with tears. “I suppose that’s true–Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,” called the beaver. And he disappeared beneath the surface of the water. Even being as furry as he was, Barrington was beginning to get cold. And the snow was falling so hard that his tiny, bunny eyes could scarcely see what was ahead of him.

He was almost home, however, when he heard the excited squeaking of field mice beneath the ground.

“It’s a party,” thought Barrington. And suddenly he blurted out through his tears, “Hello, field mice. This is Barrington Bunny. May I come to your party?” But the wind was howling so loudly and Barrington was sobbing so much that no on heard him.

And when there was no response at all, Barrington just sat down in the snow and began to cry with all his might.

“Bunnies,” he thought, “aren’t any good to anyone. What good is it to be furry and to be able to hop if you don’t have any family on Christmas Eve?”

Barrington cried and cried. When he stopped crying he began to bite on his bunny’s foot, but he did not move from where he was sitting in the snow.

Suddenly, Barrington was aware that he was not alone. He looked up and strained his shiny eyes to see who was there.

To his surprise he saw a great silver wolf. The wolf was large and strong and his eyes flashed fire. He was the most beautiful animal Barrington had ever seen. For a long time the silver wolf didn’t say anything at all. He just stood there and looked at Barrington with those terrible eyes.
Then slowly and deliberately the wolf spoke. “Barrington,” he asked in a gentle voice, “Why are you sitting in the snow?”

Barrington replied, “Because it is Christmas Eve and I don’t have any family and bunnies aren’t any good.”

“Bunnies are good,” said the wolf. “Bunnies can hop and they are very warm.”

“What good is that ?” Barrington sniffed.

“It is very good indeed,” the wolf went on, “because it is a gift that bunnies are given, a free gift with no strings attached. And every gift that is given to anyone is given for a reason. Someday you will see why it is good to hop and to be warm and furry.”

“But it’s Christmas,” moaned Barrington, “and I’m all alone. I don’t have any family at all.”

“Of course you do,” replied the great silver wolf. “All of the animals in the forest are your family.” And then the wolf disappeared. He simply wasn’t there.

Barrington had only blinked his eyes, and when he looked– the wolf was gone.

“All of the animals in the forest are my family,” thought Barrington. “It’s good to be a bunny. Bunnies can hop. That’s a gift. A free gift.”

On into the night Barrington worked. First he found the best sticks that he could. (and that was difficult because of the snow.) Then hop. Hop. Hippity-hop. To beaver’s house. He left the sticks just outside the door. With a note on them that read: A free gift. No strings attached. Signed, a member of your family.”

“It is a good thing that I can hop,” he thought, “because the snow is very deep.”

Then Barrington dug and dug. Soon he had gathered together enough dead leaves and grass to make the squirrels nest warmer. Hop. Hop. Hippity-hop. He laid the grass and the leaves just under the large oak tree and attached this message: “A gift. A free gift. From a member of your family.”

It was late when Barrington finally started home. And what made things worse was that he knew a blizzard was beginning.

Hop. Hop. Hippity-hop. Soon poor Barrington was lost. The wind howled furiously, and it was very, very cold. “It certainly is cold,” he said out loud. “It’s a good thing I’m so furry. But if I don’t find my way home pretty soon even I might freeze!”

And then he saw it– a baby field mouse lost in the snow. and the little mouse was crying.

“Hello, little mouse,” Barrington called.

“Don’t cry. I’ll be right there.” Hippity-hop, and Barrington was beside the tiny mouse.

“I’m lost,: sobbed the little fellow. “I’ll never find my way home, and I know I’m going to freeze.”

“You won’t freeze,” said Barrington. “I’m a bunny and bunnies are very furry and warm. You stay right where you are and I’ll cover you up.”

Barrington had only two thoughts that long, cold night. First he thought, “It’s good to be a bunny. Bunnies are very furry and warm.” And then, when he felt the heart of the tiny mouse beneath him beating regularly, he thought, “All of the animals in the forest are my family.”

Next morning, the field mice found their little baby, asleep in the snow, warm and snug beneath the furry carcass of a dead bunny. Their relief and excitement was so great that they didn’t even think to question where the bunny had come from.

And as for the beavers and the squirrels, they still wonder which member of their family left the little gifts for them that Christmas Eve.

After the field mice had left, Barrington’s frozen body simply lay in the snow. There was no sound except that of the howling wind. and no one any where in the forest noticed the great silver wolf who came to stand beside that brown, lop-eared carcass.

But the wolf did come.
And he stood there.
Without moving or saying a word.
All Christmas Day.
Until it was night.

And then he disappeared into the forest.

(at the conclusion)

This cold winter night, we are again given a gift, you and I. A free gift, with no strings attached. A small baby, a person like you and me, who came to be a gift, and to tell us that we are also gifts, and members of the same family – the family of Our God. He showed us that life is truly a gift. To be human is a gift, because it means that God’s own heart can beat within us. We can love as Jesus loves, and we can rejoice in being members – all of us – of the same family. That is truly a great gift. But Jesus showed us that it is also a costly gift – it will cost us our very lives, all that we are, to be the kind of gift Jesus is. Because Jesus showed us the truth of that paradox, by loving us totally, enough to die for us. And that is what Christmas is really all about.

Let us, then, praise God for that gift. Let us receive it, and through its magic, allow ourselves to be transformed into gifts – gifts to one another. As we receive the bread and the wine, the body and the blood of our Lord, let us become aware of His real presence which transforms us, and makes of us living gifts to one another. Free gifts. With no strings attached. Amen.

Light in the Darkness

December 16, 2012 by Steve Harsh, posted in Christian Discipleship, Faith and Politics, Faith and Values

O God of mercy, we come to you in greater need of your comfort and love than usual this day. As a nation we have walked thru the valley of the shadow of death this week with the people of Portland, Oregon, Newtown, CN, and the Sandy Hook school. It’s lonely in that valley and we need your strength so that we are not overcome by the fear of such incomprehensible evil and violence. We’re shocked and angry that such pain and suffering has been visited upon innocent children and their families. We’re confused and frightened that these scenes are becoming all too familiar.

Our hearts are broken and our minds struggle to ask why and make sense of the senseless. What we do know is that we want to reach out in compassion to everyone touched directly and indirectly by this tragedy – families, teachers, students, first responders, community leaders, churches ministering to the grief stricken, political leaders looking for ways to stop the cycle of violence. Guide us with your spirit, O God, that we may be instruments of your peace to those near, and far and bearers of light to those surrounded by this darkness.

Give us faith and courage to continue to praise you and celebrate your presence in this holy season, even in the midst of our pain. Remind us that Christmas comes in the darkest days of the year when we most need the light of the world. Remind us that Jesus was born into a world where a desperate insecure king ordered the slaughter of innocent children to preserve his power. And we know who had the real power.

The light of the Christ child still shines in the darkness, and we thank you for that reassuring presence. Comfort us in our grief, banish our fears so that we may share the good news of Christmas that the eternal God is one with us, shares our pain, is so close to us that you taste the salt of our tears – and in that faith may we be empowered to share the good news that nothing in all creation, no valley, no darkness, no evil, can ever separate us from your great love, O God, our strength and redeemer.

“Be Careful What you Ask For” Text: Mark 10:35-45

October 23, 2012 by Steve Harsh, posted in Christian Discipleship, Faith and Values

What would you do if your boss asked you to undertake a big project that would require a lot of effort and travel but she wouldn’t tell you what the project was until you agreed to do it? Would you buy that deal? Or if your very best friend comes to you with a financial crisis, and when you ask what it is or how much he needs – the answer is that he can’t tell you but just needs you to write him a blank check! That’s what James and John seem to be saying to Jesus in this passage from Mark 10. “Teacher, we want you to do for us whatever we ask of you.”

Why would these two close disciples of Jesus even dare to ask such a brash and bold thing? There is some evidence to support this unseemly behavior if we look elsewhere in the Gospels. At least four times Jesus seems to offer the disciples and us that kind of magic wand. ‘Whatever you ask for in prayer with faith you will receive” (Mt. 21:22). And three times in John’s gospel, “I will do whatever you ask in my name” (John 14:13; 15:7 & 16).

Such a deal! No wonder James and John want to cash in. What would you pray for if you were guaranteed you’d get whatever you asked for? New job? Healing for yourself or a loved one? Straight A’s? A full-ride scholarship to the college of your choice? Browns in the Super Bowl? Hey, it says whatever you ask!!!! How about healing a broken relationship? Or let’s think really big and go for world peace and a healthy environment.

But there’s something wrong with this picture isn’t there? We’ve prayed for most of those things and more, and more times than not, the answer is ‘no’ or ‘not now” or “not yet.” The cancer isn’t cured. The marriage ends in divorce. The perfect job doesn’t appear. Mr. or Ms. Right turns out to be a big Ms-take, and the world seems further from peace than ever.

If God is all powerful and promises to answer our prayers, why is there so much suffering and pain? Why is the world such a mess? We’ll come back to that question later. First let’s look at the second surprising thing in this story about Jesus and his disciples. After the audacity of James and John to ask Jesus to grant them whatever they want, the next surprise is that Jesus doesn’t laugh in their faces for daring to ask such a foolish question. Jesus calmly responds, “What is it you want me to do? “ And when they say they want the seats of honor next to Jesus in his kingdom, then Jesus gets a little more direct with them. He says, “You don’t know what you’re asking.” In other words, “Be careful what you ask for.” And then Jesus goes on to explain for the umpteenth time the cost of discipleship. Following Jesus means being a servant and a slave, the exact opposite of the cushy places of privilege and honor James and John were asking for.

In Isaiah (55:8) God says, “My ways are not your ways.” Jesus makes the same point here in Mark. He says “among the Gentiles those whom they recognize as their rulers lord it over them, and their great ones are tyrants over them. BUT IT IS NOT SO AMONG YOU (church); but whoever wishes to become great among you must be your servant; for the son of man came not to be served but to serve” (10:43). Sometimes our unanswered prayers are the result of asking for the wrong things–like when we pray for athletic victories. I don’t think even Jesus could get the poor Browns to a Super Bowl; or for materialistic things or success in a job or on a test at school when we haven’t taken the responsibility to do the work and the study necessary for success.

Even prayer for peace and the environment can be nothing more than pious platitudes if we don’t live peaceful and environmentally responsible lifestyles. That’s why the letter of James tells us, “Faith without works is dead.” That epistle says it does no good to wish someone well if we don’t lift a finger to help feed them or meet their needs. A friend of mine on Facebook recently posted a few messages about breaking a new bottle of insulin she needs to take every day. Her insurance company refused to replace the expensive medicine, and she didn’t have money in her budget to replace it. After a few days of going without the insulin she posted another message saying she was starting to feel the effects of going without. In response there was a long list of messages from her Facebook friends offering prayers and messages of sympathy, but not one offer of any funds to help her buy her meds. Prayers without works to back them up are dead.

At first glance, it looks like James and John’s request is denied because they are asking for special recognition. Don’t we all like to be appreciated and affirmed? We put our plaques and diplomas and awards on our office walls, but I don’t see many of us displaying pictures of times we really messed up or a headline from the paper when we got a speeding ticket. What if James and John simply asking for assurance that they’re ok? Just a few verses earlier Mark tells us they were afraid as they headed ever closer to Jerusalem and what awaited Jesus there. Maybe James and John just want to be close to Jesus. Don’t we all want to be sure God is walking beside us on our daily journey – to be reassured that the single set of footprints in the tough times are really God’s and not ours?

But there’s a difference between asking for God’s presence and expecting special treatment. We’d all like to be exempt from suffering and pain, and our loved ones too. But we are called with Christ to suffer with those who suffer. Fred Craddock, one of the great preachers of our time describes what we want as “almost Bible” – things that we think are or should be in the Bible but aren’t. He says we want the Bible to say that “when the Messiah comes there will be no more suffering.” But what it says is “Where there is suffering, there the Messiah comes.” And Jesus calls us to be there with the suffering also if we want to be next to him. Yes, God promises a peaceful, pain-free existence for the faithful, but that peace comes only in the spiritual realm of divine healing, beyond the trials and tribulations of this mortal existence.

Some prayers also go unanswered because they are just too small. The scope of our prayer concerns is like an archery target of concentric circles – you know what that looks like with the red bull’s eye in the very center of the target. Our personal concerns and needs are naturally at the bull’s eye. Next to us are those we love and care most about, then come friends and neighbors in the next circle, then friends and acquaintances of others brought to our attention when they are put on the prayer list, etc. The secret to growing in our faith is an ever-expanding sense of who we are connected to in God’s family until our prayers and service reach to the far outer ring of the circles – to those we don’t even know who look different and think differently, even worship differently or not at all – even to those we have labeled as our enemies. All of God’s children and all of God’s creation become part of our prayer vision and circle of compassion. That’s the vision that inspires our giving to missions at home and around the world. It’s the reason dozens of our own Jerome church members are on three mission trips to Kentucky, Haiti and Argentina at this very moment. Praise God for that dedication and service.

The scope of our concern is like flying in a plane. At ground level all we can see are the other planes on the tarmac and the terminal and the control tower, and those people out there losing our luggage. Then as the plane lifts off the ground we can see the parking lots and highways next to the airport, then the skyline of the city we are departing from, and as we get higher we can see for miles – pick out lakes and rivers and other landmarks. And from 30000 feet on a clear day we can see all the way to the horizon miles away. And for an even better view, we’ve all seen pictures of the earth sent back from Apollo astronauts circling the moon and have seen what a beautiful, fragile little planet we live on – one without the artificial borders and boundaries that divide us from one another. From that vantage point we begin to get a God’s eye view and a universal perspective that calls us to pray and act on behalf of all creation and all of God’s children.

Jesus calls us to be servants of that whole creation, and that means making hard choices. We have to put our own desires and wishes on hold to tend to the needs of others. Mothers and fathers and caregivers for the sick or elderly know exactly what that means, and the Scriptures challenge us all to adopt that role of caretaker for God’s world and God’s people – not just out of necessity, but with joyful hearts.

God has entrusted humankind with the care of all creation and we must take that job more seriously. It isn’t easy – none of us want to give up the comfortable lifestyle we enjoy. We can pray for researchers and business leaders to find solutions to difficult environmental problems – but all of us need to also do more to simplify our own consumption of the finite resources God has provided. I know businesses don’t like EPA regulations that limit their freedoms and their profits, none of us do, but without rules and regulations we are not good at environmentally healthy choices and practices – because when our eyes are focused on just the bulls eye of our own well-being and not on the Creator’s perspective, we lose sight of the bigger target.

World peace is an even bigger challenge. We pray for our troops and honor the sacrifices they and their loved ones make every day that we too often take for granted. But Jesus calls all of us to live peacefully too. He says, “If someone strikes you on the right cheek, turn the other also” (Mt. 5:39), and stop the cycle of anger and revenge. Yes, I know there are huge questions about how we do that in the face of tyrants and terrorists, and I don’t have any easy answers. But what I do know is that the Scriptures challenge all of us to wrestle with what that means and how we respond to bullies or road rage or a back stabbing colleague at work. Jesus says pray for your enemies and for those who abuse you, but prayer alone is not enough — he also says to love them.

World peace is so big an issue we are tempted to throw up our hands and just give up, but that is not an acceptable response. None of us is likely to go out this week and stop the violence in Afghanistan or Syria or even on the west side of Columbus – but every one of us will have multiple opportunities to respond peaceably to someone who rushes in front of us in the checkout line at Kroger’s, or takes a parking place we were obviously heading for. We will all have chances to put ourselves in the shoes of someone who is unkind or rude, perhaps because they are distracted by problems at home or work or have just gotten terrible news from the Dr. Or a student at school who is a jerk because he or she just flunked a big test or got cut from the squad. And I guarantee you that all of us will have many chances in these final days before the election to resist the temptation to put down those we disagree with politically and choose instead to respectfully disagree .

On the topic of elections and political disagreements – a friend posted some very good advice this week from someone I never expected to see on Facebook–John Wesley, one of the founders of the Methodist church. Way back in 1774 Wesley wrote these words that are just as relevant today as they were 250 years ago. Wesley wrote in his journal:

“I met those of our society who had votes in the ensuing election, and advised them,

To vote, without fee or reward, for the person they judged most worthy:
To speak no evil of the person they voted against:
To take care their spirits were not sharpened against those that voted on the other side.”

In every situation, I urge all of us to pray and meditate on Jesus as the way and the truth and life as we make daily choices this week. Remember what Jesus says to James and John: “It’s not about you. You don’t need to elbow and shove your way into the spotlight.” God sees acts of servanthood and they may not get recognized or rewarded in the coin of the realm – but God will reward us with the peace that comes when our prayers are in alignment with our actions, and our will is in harmony with God’s.

How do we live peaceful lives of love and forgiveness toward others? The best advice is always to look to Jesus as our example, and when it comes to the question of how to pray faithfully there is one short prayer of Jesus in Mark 14:36 that says it all. That prayer is the exact opposite of what James and John ask of Jesus. They want to play God and expect Jesus to do whatever they want. In contrast, in his greatest hour of need on the night before he was crucified Jesus also prayed to God and asked very clearly for what he wanted. Remember he says, “God, for you all things are possible, remove this cup from me.” In other words, “get me out of this mess.” But unlike James and John, Jesus doesn’t stop there. He goes on to say, “But not my will but thy will be done.” That is the ultimate test of authentic prayer. Do we give God’s will priority over ours? We can and should voice our deepest fears and requests to God. God wants that kind of personal relationship with us. But the bottom line is to humbly let God be God and submit our desires as faithful servants to God’s will. A sincere prayer for God’s will to be done is prayer that will always be answered.

[Preached at Jerome UMC,Plain City, OH, Oct. 21, 2012]

“Mixed Messages,” (Matthew 11:28-30; 16:24-26; Mark 6:30-37)

September 6, 2012 by Steve Harsh, posted in Christian Discipleship, Faith and Values

Here’s a trivia question for anyone who is a Beatles’ fan. Can you name a Beatles’ song that talks about preaching? There may be more than one, but the one I’m aware of is “Eleanor Rigby.” One verse of that song says, “Father McKenzie, writing the words to a sermon that no one will hear. No one comes near…” And then comes the haunting refrain “all the lonely people, where do they all come from?” Where do all the lonely people in the world come from? Great question and I don’t know the answer. But I know to whom they come. They come to the church.

Theologian Frederick Buechner says it’s not the presence of God in our lives that keeps us coming back to church; it’s the absence of God, the hunger for spiritual food to fill the God-shaped hole in our lives. We come looking for the rest and renewal Jesus promises in Matthew 11:28-30. Our weary souls leap for joy when we hear Jesus say, “Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.” Where do we sign up for that R&R Jesus?

But hold the phone before you get too excited. Just five short chapters later in Matthew that offer seems to have expired as we hear “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For those who want to save their life will lose it and those who lose their life for my sake will find it.” (Matt. 16:24-25) An easy yoke or take up your cross? Which is it Jesus – we’re getting mixed messages here! Almost makes me want to set up an empty chair and have a little imaginary chat with Jesus about this seeming contradiction, but then I realized that gig has already been tried and it didn’t exactly make anyone’s day. And to make matters worse, my research tells me that the verses about rest and the easy yoke appear only in this passage from Matthew. None of the other gospels include it, but the part about self denial and taking up one’s cross, that appears in Mark and Luke also, and Matthew and Luke both have it twice in their gospels to make sure we don’t miss it. And Jesus certainly walks that walk; so the Scriptures are clear that we have to take sacrifice and service to others seriously if we intend to be followers of Jesus.

Which makes me ask again, “where’s the rest for weary laborers in Christ’s vineyard?” We hear the message loud and clear, deny oneself – serve others – be a servant of all. We want to obey and follow, but we’re tired Jesus. We’ve been at this church thing a long time and it often seems hopeless. We feel empty, inadequate, and unable to keep our own soul and body together, let alone respond to the needs of all the lonely, hungry people – there must be 5000 of them!!!!

Where do they all come from? Where do we all come from? Empty nesters trying to cope with houses that are suddenly too quiet, kids in new schools searching for real friends, caregivers for the sick, single parents trying to be breadwinners and heads of household, the underemployed and unemployed, those without purpose and passion. Some of us are struggling with addictions, with problems of aging. Some of us are victims of bullies or peer pressure. Some of us are grieving the death of lifelong partners. All the lonely people.

One of the other things I wish Jesus hadn’t said is that “the poor will be with you always.” (Mt. 26:11, Mk. 14:7) But there is no historical evidence that he was wrong about that. I learned recently that even in the affluent suburb close to my home the number of lonely, hungry people is dramatically increasing. That shouldn’t surprise me, but the numbers did. 750 people per month on average are coming for assistance to the local ecumenical food pantry. 15% of the kids in our suburban school district are on free and reduced lunches, and in two of our school buildings that number is over 50%. And we know the problems are much worse in urban areas and vastly worse in other parts of the human family around the world.

Where do all those people in need come from and how can we possibly feed them all? That’s the question Jesus’ disciples also ask in the familiar story in Mark 6:30-37. Jesus recognizes that the disciples need a break from the ministry they are doing; so he takes them off to a deserted place for some rest, or so he thinks. But apparently someone tweeted or texted their destination because there’s a whole crowd of lonely people waiting for Jesus when they arrive, hungry for his words and his healing presence. Mark tells us they look like a bunch of sheep without a shepherd, and Jesus of course has compassion on them and begins to teach them many things. And when it begins to grow late and folks are getting hungry, the disciples suggest they send the crowds off to McDonalds or Chipotle to fend for themselves. But Jesus looks the disciples right in the eye as only Jesus can look at you, and he says, “YOU give them something to eat.”

“What? You must be kidding Jesus! It would take a week or more wages to feed this crowd. We don’t have that kind of money.” (That’s a loose translation) But Jesus says, “How many loaves have you? Go and see.” (6:38)

There is a story in John Westerhoff’s book, Will Our Children Have Faith; about a young couple who had everything in life except the thing they wanted the most. They loved children and desperately wanted to have a family of their own. But no matter how hard they tried or how many fertility specialists they saw, their sorrow grew with each miscarriage and each passing year of unanswered prayers. Through their years of frustration and disappointment and anger, the person who supported them most through that lonely journey was their parish priest, Father John. He counseled them and prayed with them and walked their path with them each step of the way. And then the miracle happened. When Samantha conceived and was able to give birth to a beautiful baby boy there was no question what they would name him. He was baptized “John,” in honor of the faithful priest who delighted in seeing the little boy grow into the curious toddler who warmed Father John’s heart with his smiles and giggles every Sunday morning.

When Johnny was about two and a half he was out early one morning with his mother, taking the family dog out for his morning exercise. The dog chased a squirrel into the neighbor’s yard, and Samantha went after him. In those two minutes Johnny toddled over into the driveway behind the family car just as his father came rushing out of the house late for work. Tom, unaware Johnny was behind the car backed over his son and killed him instantly.

Father John came to the house as soon as he heard the tragic news and found Tom and Samantha in utter and inconsolable despair sitting on the bed holding each other as they wept. Father John didn’t know what to do or say. No words seemed able to touch the depths of the devastation these grieving parents were engulfed in; so the priest just sat beside them on the bed and cried with them.

A couple of days after he conducted the hardest funeral of his life, Father John stopped by the home to see how Tom and Samantha were doing. He was dreading the visit because he felt that he had been totally inadequate in his pastoral care of them on the darkest day of their lives. So when he reluctantly rang the doorbell he was bowled over when Samantha greeted him warmly and threw her arms around him. She thanked him profusely for all that he had done for them. He said, “But I didn’t do anything. I didn’t know what to say. I just sat there and cried.” She said, “You gave us all you had, and it was enough.”

When Jesus sends the disciples out to see how many loaves they have to feed the multitude, he doesn’t ask them to give more than they have, just all that they have. He says, “Go see what you have and bring it to me.” And when they surrender meager five loaves and two fish to him, they must have been thinking there was no way even Jesus could feed over 5000 people with five loaves and two fish.

But they suspended their doubts and gave him all they had, and when Jesus takes it and blesses it, not only is it enough to feed the multitude until they are satisfied, there’s enough leftovers to feed the next batch of lonely, hungry pilgrims already coming down the road.

I played a tough golf course several years ago and laughed when I looked down at one of the sprinkler heads on a long par 5 hole. I knew I was a long way from the green, but where I expected to see the number of yards from that point to the green, instead there were these words from, “All You Got.”

That’s what Jesus gave for us, and what he asks for us in return. I saw a piece of wisdom on Facebook recently that said, “When the going gets tough, we have three choices. We can give up, give in, or give it all we’ve got.”

Did you notice at the Olympics that they never give out any medals for running the 99 yard dash? To give all we’ve got means to finish the race, to stay with the mission of meeting the needs of the hungry and lonely people among us for as long as it takes. I’ve been looking for years in my Bible for the word “retirement.” It isn’t there because as long as we have breath we can give whatever we’ve got, all we’ve got.

We can’t do that if we are fearful and attached to things that don’t satisfy. When Jesus asks us to deny ourselves, what he invites us to surrender is our false sense of self that is defined by our resume or our grade cards or our trophy case or our worldly possessions. Those things have no lasting value, but the eternal peace and rest that comes from following Jesus can never be taken away.

The secret when we feel weary and overwhelmed by the needs around us and within us is to know that God doesn’t expect us to give more than we have. That would be unfair, and we do not serve an unjust God. But I promise you, in Christ’s name, that if we entrust God with all we have, our meager loaves and fishes will be more than enough.

(A sermon preached at Jerome United Methodist Church, Plain City, Ohio, September 2, 2012)

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