December 9, 2016 Advent: Remembering the Forgotten at Christmas

This morning we continue our series of messages about Advent.  The Advent messages cover some of the characters of the Christmas story, and this Sunday the characters are ones not usually on our radar screen.  Generally, we think of characters such as the shepherds, the magi, and the angels when contemplating the Christmas story.  This morning, however, I want us to think about those I will call the forgotten.  

      

Our Scripture text comes from a passage we don’t often read at Advent.  We don’t often read it because it is not a happy passage.  It is a passage that does not make the cover of Christmas cards.  It is not a passage included in Christmas plays.  This is a passage that does not fit our image of Christmas, which is exactly why we must keep it in mind.

     

The passage to which I am referring is what is often called the slaughter of the innocents, which tells of when Mary, Joseph, and Jesus fled to Egypt in order to escape Herod’s murderous rampage.  Herod, we know from Matthew’s gospel, was so paranoid and frightened at the prospect of a newborn king that he ordered all male children in Bethlehem and vicinity, aged two and under, to be put to death.  While such an act is absolutely unfathomable to us, its cruelty was not uncommon in the world into which Jesus was born.  In that time, and for centuries before, scores of the forgotten and unknown people were subject to the whims, rashness, cruelty, and tantrums of rulers who held absolute power.  This is not, however, a way of life that was reserved only for the ancient past.  In today’s world there are many who continue to suffer under those who use power to impose their will and their whims upon the people who live under their iron fists.  And Christmas, of all times, is when we should be certain to remember the forgotten – those who live in very difficult circumstances around our world, and not only around the world, but in our own land as well, for our land is filled with many who are forgotten.

      

It is important for us to remember that the gospel has not only an individual side to it – that is, our personal relationship with God – it also has a social side to it, and that means we are called to work to improve the lives of those who suffer, and much of that suffering is imposed upon them because of the Herods of the world.  Jesus certainly challenges us to work to relieve the suffering of others, suffering that no child of God should have to endure.

      

Follow along with me as I read from Matthew 2:13-23 – 

¹³ When they had gone, an angel of the Lord appeared to Joseph in a dream. “Get up,” he said, “take the child and his mother and escape to Egypt. Stay there until I tell you, for Herod is going to search for the child to kill him.”

¹⁴ So he got up, took the child and his mother during the night and left for Egypt,

¹⁵ where he stayed until the death of Herod. And so was fulfilled what the Lord had said through the prophet: “Out of Egypt I called my son.” 

¹⁶ When Herod realized that he had been outwitted by the Magi, he was furious, and he gave orders to kill all the boys in Bethlehem and its vicinity who were two years old and under, in accordance with the time he had learned from the Magi.

¹⁷ Then what was said through the prophet Jeremiah was fulfilled:

¹⁸ “A voice is heard in Ramah,

     weeping and great mourning,

     Rachel weeping for her children

     and refusing to be comforted,

     because they are no more.” 

¹⁹ After Herod died, an angel of the Lord appeared in a dream to Joseph in Egypt
²⁰ and said, “Get up, take the child and his mother and go to the land of Israel, for those who were trying to take the child’s life are dead.”

²¹ So he got up, took the child and his mother and went to the land of Israel. 

²² But when he heard that Archelaus was reigning in Judea in place of his father Herod, he was afraid to go there. Having been warned in a dream, he withdrew to the district of Galilee, 

²³ and he went and lived in a town called Nazareth. So was fulfilled what was said through the prophets, that he would be called a Nazarene.

While we are called to help alleviate the suffering of others, it is important to know that in doing so we must sometimes challenge the powers of this world.  Years ago, I made some public statements of criticism about actions taken by some elected officials, actions that I believed to be unfair to others.  A few days later I received a call from one of those officials, who made very clear that he was unhappy about what I said.  He reminded me that I was young and naïve and that I was also a minister, and in his opinion, ministers had no right meddling in politics, reminding me there was something known as the separation of church and state.  I was young at the time, and probably somewhat naïve, but I believed that what I had said was worth saying and I was not interested in backing down from it, so I reminded the official there was also something known as free speech. Lucky for me, we live in a democracy and I was supported in my right to speak by our Constitution.     

      

What we clearly learn from this passage is that, for so many others, it is very dangerous to go against rulers and authorities.  The people of Bethlehem and surrounding vicinity discovered this in a terribly tragic way.  Because the magi did not report back to Herod, returning instead to their homeland by an alternate route so that they would not be forced to provide Herod with the location of Jesus, many families suffered an unimaginable heartbreak. Those families, and the children taken away from them, had done nothing wrong.  Nothing. They had, however, the misfortune to live under a tyrant such as Herod, a tyrant whose fear and insecurity would drive him to a murderous action.  I don’t know if the magi ever became aware of Herod’s action, but if they did, it was a very difficult burden that was laid upon them, because Herod used the magi’s avoidance of him as the reason to commit this terrible act of violence.  It’s hard to imagine a more cowardly and dastardly act than to commit an atrocious act of violence, but to then lay it at the feet of others, as though it were their fault, makes it even more despicable. But that is how tyrants operate. They operate through the use of fear and by pitting people against one another.  They use the innocent as human shields.  They see the people over whom they rule as disposable.  That was certainly the MO of Herod, and it was because he wanted people to know that it was dangerous to go against him.  While it is dangerous to go against the rulers and authorities of this world, sometimes it is necessary to do so, because those rulers and authorities must be confronted over their actions and must know they cannot act with impunity and must be called to account when they do not act in the best interests of those over whom they rule.  

      

The Bible is full of examples of the danger in going against rulers and authorities. Not only did the people of Bethlehem tragically find this to be true, Moses and the Hebrew people discovered this as well when they were freed after four centuries of bondage in Egypt, only to be pursued by Pharaoh into the wilderness (Exodus 14).  Elijah found this to be true when he was forced to flee from the wrath of Jezebel (I Kings 19).  John the Baptist also found this to be true.  John spoke words of judgment against Herod, because Herod had taken his brother’s wife as his own. John condemned Herod for this, and because of those words, John was executed (Mark 6:14-29).  Herod had some encouragement in this action, of course, but one of the reasons why it was done was to let people know – you will do what I tell you to do, when I tell you to do it, and most importantly, you will not question it!  Paul was executed at the hands of the Roman government.  Peter was executed at the hands of the Roman government, as were almost all of the other disciples.  The Bible reminds us, certainly, of the danger and high cost of opposing the powers of this world.

     

To justify their actions, governments sometimes present themselves as quasi-religions.  It might not always be in obvious ways, but when you look a little closer, it is striking to see the ways in which governments function as religions.  Governments have documents that are revered as though they are Scripture; they have founders and forebears whose origins and lives are presented with an aura of divinity and are presented as their version of ancient patriarchs and prophets, such as Moses and Elijah; they have practices and rituals that are presented as their own kind of worship services; they ask that allegiance be offered to them above and beyond all others; and they talk of sacrifice in ways that use very religious language.  As quasi-religions, they present themselves as deserving of the ultimate loyalty and they don’t tolerate competition.  This is the meaning of the response Jesus gave when he was asked if it was lawful to pay taxes to Caesar or not (Mark 12:13-17).  The response of Jesus that we are to give to Caesar what is Caesar’s and to God what is God’sshould never be taken as a very neat, easy delineation between God and government. What Jesus was saying is this – Caesar has declared himself to be God and wants your ultimate allegiance and all you have and all you are. That’s what God asks as well.  Just like money, you cannot serve two masters, or in this case, two Lords.  Who is it going to be?  This was absolutely true of the Roman Empire, as the emperor was viewed as a god, and as a god, only the emperor was allowed to use the titles Lord, Son of God, Son of Man, Savior, and others. Anyone else using those titles could be put to death, as the Romans would not allow any competition for the quasi-religion of their Empire.  Jesus, however, applied those titles to himself, making a direct refutation of the emperor’s claim to be a god and the Empire’s presentation of itself as a religion. And like John, Jesus was executed for his refusal to acknowledge what the Romans wanted acknowledged, which was that the Roman emperors presented themselves as gods and wanted themselves seen as such, because when you present yourself as a god, and your empire as a religion, then many unjustifiable actions can then be presented as justifiable.

      

But here is one of the really interesting things about God, in comparison to the quasi-religions of empires – God does not operate according to the dictates of the powers and the kingdoms of this world.  The kingdom of God does not take up arms, it does not hand out weaponry, and it does not employ armies.  No, the kingdom of God uses love and service.  To be great in God’s kingdom does not require or ask of power and force; it asks, rather, that we give up power.  Jesus said that to be great in his kingdom one had to serve others.  This was the response to the request of James and John that they be allowed to sit on the right and left of Jesus when he came into his kingdom (Matthew 20:20-28).  When Peter took up a sword Jesus reminded him that those who wield the sword also die by the sword (Matthew 26:52).  When David was chosen by God to succeed Saul as king, Samuel went to David’s home, but David’s father, Jesse, did not bother to call David in from the fields because he could not believe that David could be chosen, because he did not fit the image of a king.  Moses, born a slave, was taken into Pharaoh’s house and raised as a prince of Egypt. Moses only reached his true greatness after being humbled by going into self-imposed exile after his murder of an Egyptian overseer.  It is not happenstance that Jesus was born in a manger and not a palace.  Jesus very much identified with the nameless, the faceless, and the outcasts, and his birth signaled the kind of king he would be, a king who would associate with and love the lowliest of the world and the outcasts of the world.  As did Jesus, we must remember the forgotten.  As did Jesus, we must remember the poor.  As did Jesus, we must remember the sick.  As did Jesus, we must remember the lonely.  As did Jesus, we must remember those who live under oppression.  As did Jesus, we must remember the persecuted.  As did Jesus, we must remember those who mourn. 

      

In thinking about those who are forgotten, I find myself thinking about the group from our church that provides lunch at God’s Kitchen.  On Thursday we fed, I believe, close to fifty people.  The people who come to God’s Kitchen are people who face a good many struggles, and I’m grateful we are able to be one of the churches who provide those meals.  The meals we provide do not, and will not, solve all of the problems those children of God (and our brothers and sisters in Christ) face, but it is a way in which we can remind them that they are not forgotten.  I think of the Khai Khat family, whom we helped to settle here after they were forced to flee their own land.  What would have happened to them if they could not have come to our country?  Would they have been able to find a new home?  I wish it were not necessary for them to have to flee their homeland, because it is not easy to begin again in a new land and a new home, but they found they were not forgotten and were not left to suffer under the oppressive powers that rule their homeland.  I think about the hundreds who line up outside the Serenity Center every Wednesday to receive food and a promise they are not forgotten, either by our church or other churches.  I think about the ladies at the Diersen Center, who are separated from children and other family members while incarcerated.  I think about how they must think each day, and each night, about the decisions and actions that led them to be separated from those they love, and how much it must mean that each week groups of people travel from our church and others churches all across our area to worship with them, to visit with them, and to remind them that they are not forgotten.  I think about the residents of nursing homes, who are so often forgotten, but not by members of our congregation and other congregations.  

      

Mary Clark recently left a book in the office for me.  The book is Faith Grows By Risk, and it is a collection of stories about Kentucky Refugee Ministries.  I would like to read a brief passage telling a small portion of the experience of one of the families that KRM helped to resettle here.  It is titled, Thank You, God.

      

One of the first Congolese refugee families that the Lexington office of Kentucky Refugee Ministries resettled was a family of fourteen. The family had two grown children, several school age children, and a one-year-old little girl.  The family arrived at the airport with one large suitcase for all fourteen people.  All were wearing t-shirts given them by IOM (the agency that arranges refugee travel). As we gathered near the baggage claim, the father opened the one suitcase.  It was filled with baskets he had brought as gifts for everyone who had greeted them at the airport and for the church sponsors. The family had virtually nothing, but they were sharing all they had.  

      

As we were introduced, the youngest daughter was introduced as Thank You God.  Yes, that was her legal name.  The father had been separated from the family for months, but he had found them in the refugee camp shortly before their daughter was born.  In gratitude for the family’s being reunited, they had named their newborn daughter Thank You God.  Every time they said her name, they were reminded of the miracle of their family reunification.

      

(Faith Grows By Risk:  Stories From the Life of Kentucky Refugee Ministries, ed. By James O. Chatham, 2013, p. 132).

      

That family lived in a refugee camp, where they were among the nameless, the faceless, but they were not forgotten!  Neither, thank God, have we been forgotten, so let us remember the forgotten this Christmas, and always!

December 2, 2018 Advent: Follow Your Star

Have you ever taken a journey that did not go well? In my younger years, I drove cars that were not very dependable, which meant that I often found myself broken down along the side of the road.  In the summer of 1983, I drove from Louisville to Dothan, Alabama, to help Tanya move. I was preparing to enter my final year of seminary and we planned on getting married in May of 1984, so we thought it was a good idea for Tanya to move to Louisville, find a job, and settle into life in the city where we would begin our marriage.  I set out from Louisville in my old car and did not get far before experiencing mechanical problems, problems which were complicated by the fact that I did not have much money for repairs.  I was only a few hours into my journey when I stopped to take a break, and when I got back into my car it would not start.  It did not take long to discover that my battery was dead, and not only was it dead, but needed to be replaced.  With my new battery installed, I was soon on my way south once again.  When I came to Birmingham it started to rain, so I turned on my wipers and my headlights.  As soon as I turned on my headlights I noticed my amperage gauge (remember those?) suddenly went all the way to the left, which meant my new battery was quickly discharging.  Finding a repair shop, I discovered that another repair was needed; this time it was my alternator and voltage regulator that had gone bad, which was probably what caused my dead battery earlier.  Not only did they alternator and voltage regulator need to be replaced, but my new battery was so damaged that it also needed to be replaced, once again.  Finally, I arrived in Dothan, where I drove to the local U-Haul dealer to rent a trailer and hitch.  The hitch, of course, did not fit onto my bumper correctly so I spent a long evening getting that problem solved.  The next morning, as we prepared to set off on the return trip to Louisville, I discovered I had a flat tire.  That was not a difficult repair, but it took long enough that Tanya and I were much later getting on the road than planned.  As we passed through Birmingham, I noticed my temperature gauge was beginning to rise, approaching a level that required that I stop to see what was wrong.  This time it was a water pump that needed replacing. Finally, we made it back to Louisville, after many stops, many repairs, and a lot of money spent.  The next morning, we returned the U-Haul trailer, and as we were driving up the ramp to get back on I65, I remarked to Tanya that I was very relieved the trip was over, and surely nothing else could go wrong. No sooner had those words come out of my mouth than the entire exhaust system came loose on my car and dropped to the pavement.  Needless to say, it was quite a loud trip home from there.

      

Not all journeys are easy.  Some journeys seem to be one problem after another. This morning, we begin our Advent series of messages, which are based on the characters of the first Christmas. We will begin with the magi, and as I go through these messages you will note that I am obviously not going to approach the characters in chronological order.  In the passage from Matthew the magi are the last arrivals to visit Jesus, but I want to note that while the other events of the first Christmas were taking place, the magi were making their way to Jerusalem, and then on to Bethlehem, so they are on their journey while all the other events are happening. 

      

Follow along as I read our Scripture text for the morning, from Matthew 2:1-12 – 

¹ After Jesus was born in Bethlehem in Judea, during the time of King Herod, Magi  from the east came to Jerusalem 

² and asked, “Where is the one who has been born king of the Jews? We saw his star when it rose and have come to worship him.”

³ When King Herod heard this he was disturbed, and all Jerusalem with him.

⁴ When he had called together all the people’s chief priests and teachers of the law, he asked them where the Messiah was to be born. 

⁵ “In Bethlehem in Judea,” they replied, “for this is what the prophet has written:

⁶ “‘But you, Bethlehem, in the land of Judah, 

      are by no means least among the rulers of Judah; 

      for out of you will come a ruler

     who will shepherd my people Israel.’”

⁷ Then Herod called the Magi secretly and found out from them the exact time the star had appeared. 

⁸ He sent them to Bethlehem and said, “Go and search carefully for the child. As soon as you find him, report to me, so that I too may go and worship him.”

⁹ After they had heard the king, they went on their way, and the star they had seen when it rose went ahead of them until it stopped over the place where the child was. 

¹⁰ When they saw the star, they were overjoyed. 

¹¹ On coming to the house, they saw the child with his mother Mary, and they bowed down and worshiped him. Then they opened their treasures and presented him with gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh. 

¹² And having been warned in a dream not to go back to Herod, they returned to their country by another route.

I want to ask you three questions this morning that I take from this passage.  The first is, 

1.  What might God be revealing to you?

      

How many of you find it easy and obvious to understand what God is revealing to you?  Anyone?  I think it is safe to say that we all find it difficult to discern what God is telling us in terms of his will.  I also think we tend to believe things were much easier for the Biblical characters when it came to discerning God’s direction, God’s will, and God’s plan.  I think we tend to believe that, for the Biblical characters, those answers were always as obvious as if they were written across the sky or revealed in some miraculous way, but for the most part, I think it was as difficult for them to understand as it is for us.  There were a few notable exceptions, of course, but many of the Biblical characters struggled to understand what exactly it was that God was revealing to them.  It is not easy to know or understand what God is doing in our lives, what God is leading us to do, or what God is prompting us to do, but we have to consider that question – what might God be revealing to you?

      

For the magi, they did not have all the answers for their journey, but they had enough information to get started on their journey. They knew a king was to be born – as they had seen his star – and that was about the extent of what they knew.  Here is what we learn from the way in which the magi proceeded – while God is always revealing something to us, it might not be as much information as we desire, but it is enough.  The magi set out on their journey with only a small amount of information, but they still began their journey.  I do not understand the why and the how of the manner in which God works, but I have come to understand that there is always a great deal of mystery involved in the way he works.

      

I’ve long believed it to be somewhat ironic that the magi are often referred to as wise men, because what they did – setting out on a journey of unknown duration, and with very little idea of where they were going or what the might encounter on the way – seems anything but wise.  How much was revealed to the magi?  Not very much, but that did not hinder them in their response to God revealing to them that they were to journey to Bethlehem.  We so often want every question answered, every i dotted, every t crossed, and every contingency anticipated and planned for before we strike out on a journey.  I don’t know what the magi knew when they set out on their journey, but I don’t think it was much.  They saw a star, a star that revealed to them an understanding that something very, very significant was about to take place.  There has been a great deal of speculation about the star, by the way, but here’s what I think about it – I do not think it was at all obvious.  I don’t believe it lit up the night sky or was a comet or anything that was so obvious that no one could possibly miss it.  No one but the magi seemed to know anything about the star. Herod and his court obviously knew nothing about it, and I’m sure he employed astrologers to be watching the heavens for signs.  Even though I used a picture on the screen with a bright, obvious star, I don’t think it was.  A lot of the time, God tends not to be so obvious in his work, but he was obvious enough to the magi that they understood he was revealing something to them.

2.  Where might God be leading you?

      

What God is revealing to you is the overall plan; where he is leading is the specifics of that plan, as it deals with the details of going from Point A to Point B.  As if it weren’t difficult enough to be able to come to the realization of what God is revealing, then we have to come to the realization of where God is leading us.  Piece of cake, right? 

      

I would really like to know more about the journey of the magi, wouldn’t you?  Did they pack as much as I do when I go on a trip?  If I travel for a week I feel as though I must take almost everything I own. How many magi were there?  (The idea that there were three is pure conjecture, and is based on the three gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh.  We have no idea how many magi there actually were).  Did they have a support team that traveled with them?  Where did they begin their journey?  What did the star look like?  How long did it take them to journey Jerusalem and then on to Bethlehem?  Did they tell anyone where they were going? The linguistic economy of the Bible always amazes me.  I would like to know so much more of the story, but we know enough.

      

I think a lot of people assume that, for ministers, the call we receive is obvious.  I will tell you that is not true; at least it wasn’t for me.  There was no flashing light or writing across the sky that made it clear to me, as much as I wished there had been.  God is always leading us somewhere, which is a reality we must never forget or take for granted.  God may change our path and our direction at different points in our lives. In fact, it might surprise you to know that I am surprised to still be in ministry.  While I eventually came to the realization that God was leading me to ministry, I did not know if it would be a life-long call or not.  I assumed I would serve as a vocational minister for some years and then, perhaps, God would call me to do something else.  There was, however, nothing that made my calling absolutely obvious.  At some point in time, I simply knew that ministry was what I was called to do.  Call it a gut feeling, an instinct, or whatever, but it was something of which I eventually became convinced God was leading me to act upon.  And when that call did finally become real and true to me, there were still a lot of details I had yet to understand.  What do I do about school?  Do I go on to seminary?  What was I supposed to do after I later dropped out of seminary and things had become very unclear to me?  How was I going to get back to seminary and support myself?  What would I do about churches to serve?  There were a lot of details to work out, I can assure you. And, in some ways, it was much easier then, because I think it’s so much easier to take risks when there is less at stake.  What did I put at risk when I was 21 years old and moving to Louisville with no place to live and no idea where I was going to sleep when I arrived?  (Two weeks before I was to arrive on campus, I received a letter saying I no longer had a dorm room.  The seminary had overbooked the dorms and I was one of the fortunate students who was bumped from their room.  In my youthful faith I did not hesitate to go on to campus anyway, even though I had nowhere to stay and really did expect to sleep in my car for a few nights, at least.  Fortunately, when I arrived on campus, and went to the housing office, some friends of mine – who had already settled on campus – discovered my plight and left a note for me in the office, inviting me to stay with them until I found a place to live.  God does indeed make provision).  Really, what was I risking?  Not very much.  I had little to nothing to lose, but over the years, I became much more risk averse because I stood to lose so much more.  We become more risk averse as we have jobs, homes, and families to care for and support.  The magi could easily have rationalized staying home by saying you know, that seems like a great adventure, and we should take that journey, but we’re on the tenure track at the university now, and we don’t want to put that in jeopardy.  We also have mortgages, and we just signed book deals, so no, we can’t go anywhere, especially when we don’t even know where we’re going or how long it will take us and how we will even know when we’ve arrived at where we’re supposed to be going!

      

The magi might also have worried about the reaction of other people, who may have counseled them to be more thoughtful, to not do something so rash or foolish.  They might have been told to not go overboard with what they believe.  Some of the advice that we receive, while well-meaning, is not very conducive to faith.  People don’t always know what to do with those who take risks of faith, like the magi.  It contradicts the societal narrative that the purpose of life is simply to get a good education, get a good job, make a lot of money, buy a house with a white picket fence, join a few clubs and do your civic duty.  All that is well and good, but I would say there is more to life and I think the magi would say so too, because they took the risk of faith. They decided that the risk of faith, the stepping into the unknown, revealed a greater purpose to life than simply landing a good position teaching astronomy at the local university.

3.  What might God be asking you to do?

      

There is something very odd to me about this story and it is this – I find it odd that after traveling so far, after the magi came to Jesus, presented their gifts, worshipped him, they simply returned home.  Does that seem a bit strange to you?  It seems rather incomplete to me.  After traveling what was presumably a lengthy distance, then staying for what seems to be a very brief time, they turn around and return home.  It just seems rather incomplete to me.  So much went into their trip – the planning, the traveling, the time, the resources, the risk, and the eventual arrival to see the king of all creation, the one upon whom all human history turns – that to pack up and go home seems very anticlimactic to me.  Surely there must have been much that they considered as they returned home. What would king Jesus mean to them?  It could not be possible, in my opinion, for the magi to leave Bethlehem unchanged.  What would Jesus mean to them?  After all, the birth of a king is no small matter, because a king lays claim to much – to a kingdom and its people, for starters.  What would they do with the entrance of this king into their lives?  Whatever plans the magi had for their lives, those plans were interrupted at least for a time.  Those plans were interrupted at least long enough to take the trip to Bethlehem and back. We don’t know how long a period of time that was, but it was most likely some number of months.  When they returned home, certainly their lives were changed, and who knows what they came to understand in terms of what God wanted to do with their lives.

      

Each of us has our plan for life, but what might God be asking you to do?  That’s a question not just for the magi, or for ministers; it is a question for every person to answer.  Peter, Andrew, James, and John might never have considered that question until Jesus called them away from their fishing boats and fishing nets and to follow him. Abraham might not have thought much about that question until God called him to leave his home and to go to a land that he would show him.  Abraham was like the magi in that he did not know where his eventual destination would lead him; he simply knew he was to rise up and go.  The reality is, we can get very comfortable in our lives, going along each day doing our thing, going to work, watching ball games on TV, working in the yard, and not give much of a thought to the fact that God has something for us to do in life.  How often do we consider that?  How often do we wonder what it might be that God is calling us to do?  Do you think about that question?  Do you have any idea of what it is that God wants you to do? That is our task, and we must keep our eyes, ears, hearts, and minds open to the leading of God.  God does, after all, often speak in a still small voice.  Sometimes God speaks with a star, a star that is not seen by everyone except those who were supposed to see it.  What is God revealing to you?  Where is God leading you?  And what is God asking you to do?  Please take those questions to heart this Advent season.

November 25, 2018 The Call to Compassion

You may be familiar with the TED talks, which have become very popular in recent years.  TED talks are 18-minute speeches based on what are considered to be ideas worth spreading.  In 2008 Karen Armstrong, who in my opinion is one of the great religion scholars in the world today, won the TED prize.  Upon winning the prize Armstrong chose to focus her work on compassion.  She began what is known as The Charter for Compassion, which is a brief, 312-word pledge that asks people to place compassion at the center of their lives.  It recognizes compassion as the central component in faith and among several other areas of commitment it asks that religious people work to bring an end to the use of religion as an excuse for violence.  I think it is a very worthy cause, and our world is certainly much in need of compassion.

      

This morning, our message comes from one of the most well-known parables of Jesus, the parable of the Good Samaritan.  As we focus on the Good Samaritan this morning, we are talking about compassion, with a message titled The Call to Compassion.  The text is Luke 10:25-37, and I invite you to follow along as I read that passage.

²⁵ And a lawyer stood up and put Him to the test, saying, “Teacher, what shall I do to inherit eternal life?”

 ²⁶ And He said to him, “What is written in the Law? How does it read to you?” 

²⁷ And he answered, “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your strength, and with all your mind; and your neighbor as yourself.” 

²⁸ And He said to him, “You have answered correctly; do this and you will live.”

²⁹ But wishing to justify himself, he said to Jesus, “And who is my neighbor?”

³⁰ Jesus replied and said, “A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, and fell among robbers, and they stripped him and beat him, and went away leaving him half dead.

³¹ And by chance a priest was going down on that road, and when he saw him, he passed by on the other side. 

³² Likewise a Levite also, when he came to the place and saw him, passed by on the other side. 

³³ But a Samaritan, who was on a journey, came upon him; and when he saw him, he felt compassion,

³⁴ and came to him and bandaged up his wounds, pouring oil and wine on them; and he put him on his own beast, and brought him to an inn and took care of him.

³⁵ On the next day he took out two denarii and gave them to the innkeeper and said, ‘Take care of him; and whatever more you spend, when I return I will repay you.’ 

³⁶ Which of these three do you think proved to be a neighbor to the man who fell into the robbers’ hands?” 

³⁷ And he said, “The one who showed mercy toward him.” Then Jesus said to him, “Go and do the same.”

This parable is very much in keeping with I Corinthians 13, the passage we completed two weeks ago.  I Corinthians 13 focused upon love, and in particular focused upon the idea of making love visible.  Making love visible is a good definition of compassion.  We might even say that compassion is the hands and the feet of love.  We can find many other Scriptural references to the ways in which compassion makes love visible.  One such example comes from the book of James, which tells us in 2:14-18 ¹⁴ What good is it, my brothers and sisters, if someone claims to have faith but has no deeds? Can such faith save them? ¹⁵ Suppose a brother or a sister is without clothes and daily food. ¹⁶ If one of you says to them, “Go in peace; keep warm and well fed,” but does nothing about their physical needs, what good is it? ¹⁷ In the same way, faith by itself, if it is not accompanied by action, is dead. ¹⁸ But someone will say, “You have faith; I have deeds.”  Show me your faith without deeds, and I will show you my faith by my deeds.

For my points this morning, I am going to consider each of the characters in this parable, beginning with –

1.  The lawyer.

      

I should say at the outset that when Luke tells us that a lawyer stood up to test Jesus(verse 25), he is not speaking of a lawyer as we know attorneys.  The lawyer to which Luke referred was an expert in the religious law – the law of Moses – not civic law.  Lawyers of this type were often called upon or looked to in order to receive an interpretation of the law, or to give an opinion about the application of religious law. As an expert in the religious law, this lawyer put himself in the position of a guardian of orthodoxy, as Luke tells us that he was asking his question not to gain information, but to test Jesus(verse 25).  This was certainly not the only time that Jesus was confronted by the officially or self-appointed guardians of orthodoxy. We read of other times in the gospels when Jesus was confronted by those who sought to discredit him because they disapproved of the content of his teaching or because they were jealous of the large crowds that followed him.  After asking his question of Jesus –what must I do to inherit eternal life?– Jesus immediately turned the question around on the lawyer by confronting him with a question, “what is written in the Law,” he replied.  “How do you read it?”  (verse 26).

      

I love the response of Jesus. I love that he turns the question around on the lawyer.  Jesus certainly knew the lawyer was not asking an informational question.  Jesus knew the lawyer had appointed himself as a guardian of orthodoxy and was seeking to discredit him.  Don’t you just love it when someone appoints themselves the guardians of orthodoxy?  Don’t you just love it when someone decides they are the person to judge the righteousness, or lack thereof, of others?  I am asked a lot of questions, many of which are informational, but I am sometimes asked questions to see if I will give the “approved” answer of those who have anointed themselves as the guardians and protectors of orthodoxy (I am not asked those kinds of questions by anyone in our church, I should add).  I do not mind answering questions, but when I sense that someone is asking me a question to see if I will give the “right” answer I tend to be less willing to give an answer, not because I am afraid to say what I think, but because I do not want to play the game of theological “gotcha” with those guardians of orthodoxy.

      

When Jesus turns the lawyer’s question around on him, he does so in a very interesting way.  The lawyer, who sought to discredit Jesus, instead finds himself discredited, because he is forced to defend himself as to why he would not love his neighbor.  Jesus had the lawyer quote the great commandment – love the Lord your God with all you heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all you  mind, and love your neighbor as yourself(verse 27), which then put him on the defensive, as he obviously was not interested in loving his neighbor, as he asked and who is my neighbor? (verse 29). It was a typical legal maneuver, trying to bog Jesus down with a discussion over the legal definition of terms. Reading the exchange, it is impossible to miss the haughtiness in the lawyer’s words – oh yeah?  And just who is my neighbor? The question is dripping with pride and arrogance and lays bare the lawyer’s contempt for others rather than what should have been his compassion.  He did, after all, just a few moments before quote the great commandment, and here he was, now seeking to shrink the circle of concern.  The lawyer was, obviously, seeking to evade his responsibility to be compassionate towards others.  There were certain people he did not want anything to do with, so he tried to hide behind an evasive legal tactic.  The lawyer knew that when Jesus used the word neighborhe was not simply talking about the people that live next door or down the street; he was talking about everyone, including those that the lawyer did not want anything to do with.

      

In my series of messages on I Corinthians 13 I spoke about the desire of some to focus more on right belief than upon the importance of actions.  Right belief, without right action, is not very impressive, and only makes for a cold, uncaring religion.  This lawyer was an example of both.  He focused more on right belief than upon right actions and in doing so, he represented an expression of religion that was cold and uncaring.  There remains quite a bit of this type of religion today. We have all witnessed those who can line up with all the “correct” theology and yet are cold and uncaring. They can line up perfectly with every point of every creed, and yet they demonstrate not an iota of compassion towards others.  People in our society have seen enough of this expression of religion, and they have turned their backs on it.  The spirit of this lawyer is alive and well today, sadly, and it is well past time for this expression of religion to go away.

2.  The priest and the Levite.

      

I’m going to put the priest and Levite together because they both represent the religious leadership and religious establishment.

      

I believe in giving people the benefit of the doubt, so I will consider the possibility that there are reasons why the priest and the Levite did not stop to help the man.  Perhaps they were worried that those who robbed the man were still around and were lying in wait for another victim, so they decided it was best to keep moving. Or, perhaps the man only appeared to be beaten and was in league with others who would rob and beat anyone who stopped.  Those are possibilities, but I don’t believe they fit the context.  The reality is, the priest and the Levite were representatives of the religious establishment, and as such, they actually could claim religious reasons to avoid demonstrating compassion.  To touch someone who was bleeding, they could claim, would make them unclean.  Better to remain ritually clean, in their minds, than to be compassionate towards someone who was in such great need of help.  It is a sad commentary upon any religious point of view that allows one to fulfill a religious command while at the same time avoid the call to compassion. This is an expression of legalism. Legalism is the fulfilling of a religious law or command while at the same time missing the spirit of the law or command.  While it might have been technically true that the priest and Levite were to remain ritually clean, to avoid one of the most fundamental callings of religion – compassion – in order to do so is a fundamental misunderstanding of religion.

      

The priest and Levite are ones who would be seen as representatives of God.  This priest and the Levite, failing to demonstrate compassion, made poor representatives of God, however.  How can one claim to represent God if one does not participate in one of the most foundational expressions of God, which is compassion?  No, the priest and the Levite were not representatives of God. Instead, they were examples of what God was not – cold, uncaring, arrogant, and self-righteous.  The priest and the Levite represent that element of religion that exudes self-righteousness, and sometimes insufferably so, and that self-righteousness refuses to see the call to compassion.  By using the priest and Levite in his parable, Jesus was directly challenging the lack of compassion in much of the religion of his day, and calling upon his followers to do better.

3. The Samaritan.

      

The Samaritans were a group of people in the gospels who were despised, as there was a long history of enmity between the Jewish people and the Samaritans.  Time doesn’t permit me to go through the history of that enmity, but trust me that it was so, which makes it interesting that Jesus picked a Samaritan as the hero of the parable.  Jesus, on more than one occasion, went out of his way to lift up the Samaritans, much to the chagrin of many of his detractors.  There was the Samaritan woman at the well in John chapter 4.  In the story of the healing of ten lepers we find that the only one who returned to thank Jesus was a Samaritan (Luke 17:11-19). That Jesus would choose a Samaritan as the hero of his story would most certainly have been a shock to his listeners.  It was his way, however, of reminding his audience that they were not the only ones who were good and righteous.  In fact, it was Jesus’ way of reminding his audience – primarily the lawyer – that the compassion of God was not limited to certain groups of people and so their compassion should not have limits either.

     

The Samaritan does a rather amazing act, as he tends to the man’s wounds, lifts him up onto his animal, and takes him to an inn where he took further care of him.  Then he does another remarkable act, as he pays the innkeeper and offers a promise to reimburse the innkeeper for any further expenses incurred in caring for the wounded man.  Isn’t that remarkable?  He establishes an open-ended account, with no idea of how much further expense he might incur, and he promises to pay whatever the costs of additional care might be. I can’t help but wonder if the innkeeper was familiar with the Samaritan and knew him to be a man of his word, a man who could be trusted to come back and pay the bill he had promised to pay. Either way, it was quite a commitment for the Samaritan to make.

      

Jesus said the Samaritan did this because he had compassion upon the wounded man.  What’s interesting about that phrase is this – did you know, at the time of the writing of the gospels, that there was no word in the Greek language for compassion?  I find that fascinating.  The Greek language is very exact and very precise, sometimes using multiple versions of the same word in order to more exactly convey the meaning of a particular word.  Love, for instance, had four different words in the Greek language, which helped to more precisely define the type of love that was being expressed.  That the Greeks had no way of expressing linguistically the concept of compassion, then, I find to be rather amazing.  The writers of the gospels actually had to make up a new word for what Jesus was seeking to communicate with the actions of the Samaritan.  The word used by Luke for compassion means to suffer with.  To suffer with means that we are called to step into the problems and difficulties of others.  Now, right there, I think, presents a bit of a problem.  We expend a lot of energy minimizing suffering in life, so why would we want to enter into the suffering of someone else, when we are doing all we can to avoid suffering?  Why? Because it is the way of Jesus, to put it quite simply.

      

I think we often think of compassion as an emotion, such as empathy or sympathy.  But compassion, in the Biblical sense, is something far deeper than empathy or sympathy.  Compassion, the way Jesus defines it, is putting love into action by stepping directly into the lives of others and to work on their behalf to bring a positive change to those lives.  This is what the Samaritan did for the man who was robbed, beaten, and left for dead along the road.  When the Samaritan saw this injured man, he demonstrated compassion; that is, he did something about his condition.  Compassion is love with hands and feet.  Compassion is taking love out of the theoretical realm and putting it into the practical reality of everyday life.  Compassion is not just saying words of concern, but putting those words into action. We often use the word moved.  We might say I was moved by that song orI was moved by those words.  Movedis a great word to use, because it is an action word.  Moved is a verb.  It means we are touched deeply by the condition of another person and we are literally movedinto action. Compassion begins in the heart, where we are movedby the plight of another, but it is not true compassion if it remains only in the heart.  Compassion must movefrom the heart to the hands and feet, making a difference to another person.

      

It would be far easier, I suppose, to protect ourselves from the suffering in the world.  It would be easier to guard our hearts, but entering into the suffering of others is what brings the hope of healing to our suffering world.  Compassion takes the risk of being involved in the lives of others, of walking with them through their pain and struggles, and doing so means we make ourselves vulnerable to their pain.  How much easier life would be to withdraw into the safety and seclusion of our own lives, but how much poorer is the world when we do so?  It is complicated to help others.  For the Samaritan, it cost him time and it cost him money. It can be very time consuming to help others and it can be very expensive.

      

It’s a hard world in which we live.  It’s a tough world, and it seems to be getting tougher.  It takes a lot just to take care of our families and ourselves. Who has the time, energy, and resources to worry about others?  Sometimes we don’t believe we do, but that is the calling of Jesus.  The compassion of Jesus would not leave people to their difficulties and troubles.  This is what Jesus did for us – he became one of us to walk with us through our struggles, and our pain, and our difficulties.

4.  The wounded man.

      

Here’s what I find really interesting about the wounded man – he is the only one in the story who is not identified by any class or group of which he is a part.  He is not identified by race, ethnicity, nationality, religious role, religion or in any other manner.  All the other characters have some kind of identification – a lawyer, a priest, a Levite, and a Samaritan.  But the wounded man is simply identified by his need.  He was beaten, robbed, and left half dead along the side of the road.  This is where the man becomes the archetype for so many others, as the wounded man represents all the people throughout the world who await some expression of compassion. They are the nameless, faceless, mass of humanity, left alone in their suffering and with the hope that someone, anyone, will come along and offer assistance.  They are the nameless and faceless who risk their lives to cross land and sea to find a better life.  They are the nameless and faceless who starve and are ignored by the rest of the world. They are the nameless and faceless who die of diseases that require only very basic medicine, and yet they do not receive that medicine.  They are the nameless and faceless who are the victims of warfare than destroys homes, livelihoods, and innocent lives.

      

Back in the early 80s, when I was in seminary, I had a class project in which to participate.  The project was called The Plunge.  The Plunge required us to spend a weekend living on the streets of downtown Louisville.  Our professor dropped us off downtown, each of us with one dollar and one piece of identification, and we would be picked up on Sunday afternoon.  My dollar did not last very long, as I quickly grew hungry and went to a White Castle to buy a meager dinner.  After dinner, my thoughts turned to shelter for the night, which was a very big concern to me.  The thought of sleeping out on the street, and the potential dangers of that situation, were of great concern.  At that time, the Galt House was building a new section of the hotel and I made my way into the foundation of that building, where I found a pile of plywood. I can’t say it made the most comfortable bed, but that plywood at least gave me a dry place to sleep.  The next morning, as I began to think about where I might find something to eat, I met two young men who were about my age (I was 25 at the time).  They had been living on the streets for a while and knew where to find food, and they took me to a shelter where we had lunch, and another shelter later that day for dinner.  I will say, all these years later, that those meals were some of the best I have ever eaten. God bless the people who served those meals, because when you are hungry and have no idea where to go to find a meal, being fed at a shelter is a true blessing.  With the help of those two young men I managed to get through the weekend, and I was very grateful God sent them my way.  On Sunday afternoon, as we gathered for a meal on the campus of the seminary, I felt a great deal of relief to be back to my life, even if it was a rather meager life as a student with very little money.  Several days later, I was driving through downtown Louisville, on Main Street, and as I passed through an intersection I saw those two young men sitting on the sidewalk.  I was a bit startled to see them sitting there, and I was also startled by how quickly I decided to keep driving.  All these years later, I still see them in my mind, sitting there on that sidewalk, two young men who had compassion on me and helped me in my time of need, and yet I drove by them only days later, without stopping.  The priest and the Levite are easy to criticize because they saw the man and his terrible condition and yet walked by.  To walk on by seems very cold and callous on their part, but I drove by two people who had taken it upon themselves to help me.

      

Our world is not going to improve on its own.  The suffering of people will not go away without action.  Their suffering will not go away as long as we pass them by. It is compassion that will heal our world, compassion that requires us to stop what we are doing, to allow our lives to be interrupted, and to enter into the suffering of others.  No, it is not easy to do so, and it will not be easy, but it is our calling nevertheless.  The world is waiting.

November 18, 2018 The Gift of the Church

Every year, at the end of our stewardship campaign, I offer a message with the theme of stewardship.  This church continues because of the sacrificial and generous gifts that it receives, and while many of those gifts are financial, they are not just financial.  There are gifts of time and talents, and this church could not continue without all the gifts that are so generously offered by so many.  I would like this morning, however, to focus on the truth that the church is such a gift to all of us, and I mean this church as well as the church universal. 

      

In this week’s Scripture text we will read of a critical moment in the life of the early church.  The apostles were suffering persecution because of their faith.  They were taken before the Sanhedrin – the same Sanhedrin that had condemned Jesus to death – and they were flogged and warned that they were not to speak or preach any longer about Jesus.  

     

Follow along with me as I read our text, which comes from Acts 5:33-42.

33 When they heard this, they were furious and wanted to put them to death. 

34 But a Pharisee named Gamaliel, a teacher of the law, who was honored by all the people, stood up in the Sanhedrin and ordered that the men be put outside for a little while. 

35 Then he addressed the Sanhedrin: “Men of Israel, consider carefully what you intend to do to these men. 

36 Some time ago Theudas appeared, claiming to be somebody, and about four hundred men rallied to him. He was killed, all his followers were dispersed, and it all came to nothing. 

37 After him, Judas the Galilean appeared in the days of the census and led a band of people in revolt. He too was killed, and all his followers were scattered. 

38 Therefore, in the present case I advise you: Leave these men alone! Let them go! For if their purpose or activity is of human origin, it will fail.

39 But if it is from God, you will not be able to stop these men; you will only find yourselves fighting against God.”

40 His speech persuaded them. They called the apostles in and had them flogged. Then they ordered them not to speak in the name of Jesus, and let them go.

41 The apostles left the Sanhedrin, rejoicing because they had been counted worthy of suffering disgrace for the Name.

42 Day after day, in the temple courts and from house to house, they never stopped teaching and proclaiming the good news that Jesus is the Messiah.

I want to first say that the apostles were threatened not by the general public as much as they were the power structures of their day.  The apostles, like Jesus, were loved and followed by a great many people, but they were perceived as a threat by those in power. People in power do not like competition, and like Jesus before them, the apostles were a threat to those in power because they were winning the hearts and minds of the people.  This has been a tragic reality throughout human history, and it remains a tragic reality.  I cannot read this passage, for instance, without thinking about the Sunday in August when the Khai Khat family joined us for worship, and their pastor came with them.  I asked the pastor to share a message with us and I was so moved by what he said that day. If you were not able to be with us that Sunday, the pastor spoke of his experience in Myanmar, where he felt God’s call upon his life to preach, which he did, but the local authorities did not like him preaching, so they arrested him, put him in prison, and ordered him to stop preaching.  Upon his release the pastor resumed preaching and was once again arrested.  The pastor was arrested and imprisoned three times, but the arrests and imprisonments and threats of further arrests and imprisonments did not deter him in the slightest.  His experience was very much like that of the apostles, who were also arrested – and also threatened with death – and told to stop preaching.  The Khai family’s pastor was continuing a long tradition of faith that does not diminish or stop even in the face of persecution

      

What did the apostles do in response to the Sanhedrin? The apostles left the Sanhedrin, rejoicing because they had been counted worthy of suffering disgrace for the Name.  Day after day, in the temple courts and from house to house, they never stopped teaching and proclaiming the good news that Jesus is the Messiah(verses 41 and 42). Imagine if they had done what they were told.  Imagine if they stopped doing the work to which they had been called.  Imagine if they suddenly became silent about their message.  If they had, what would have become of the church?  I don’t believe the church would have come to an end, because Jesus said the gates of hell will not overcome it(Matthew 16:18), but it makes for an interesting consideration to think of how history would be had the church never existed.

      

In 1946 the movie It’s A Wonderful Lifewas released.  The movie, which stars Jimmy Stewart, has become an undeniable holiday classic.  You know the storyline, I’m sure.  Jimmy Stewart plays the character George Bailey, a banker whose life has not fulfilled many of his dreams, and on Christmas Eve, because of a lost deposit, he is facing arrest and prison time.  George drives to the edge of town, intending to jump from a bridge, wishing he had never been born.  His guardian angel, Clarence, intervenes, and shows him how differently the town of Bedford Falls would have been without George.  That theme is one that is worth considering not only for the life of an individual, but also for the church as well.  Think for a moment about what life would be like if our church never existed. Think for a moment about how our community might be different.  Think for a moment how history and the world would be different if the church universal had never existed.  It’s an unfathomable idea to imagine, and it helps us to understand what a gift the church has been.  

      

Listen to a few portions of our church’s history – 

the Restoration Movement on the western frontier was planted in Shelbyville in 1830 when, according to the minutes of the Long Run Association, 20 members of the Shelbyville Baptist Church left by consent.  That same year that exact number of persons became charter members of a new reform church in Shelbyville called “The Church of Disciples of Jesus Christ.”  The congregation later took the name “First Christian Church.”  The congregation became a part of the denomination known as the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ).

      

Although they first met in homes, the congregation began to grow rapidly.

      

The first church building constructed by the congregation in 1832 faced Fourth Street.

     

 In 1864 the church had outgrown its building space.  The dedicatory sermon for the new church building was preached on April 25, 1865.

      

With the coming of the Great Depression in 1929, First Christian Church came upon some difficult times.  The building fell into some disrepair.  The rook leaked, the furnace needed repair, the walls cracked, the bell tower began to lean dangerously.  The church, like the rest of the nation, was in debt.  Yet the congregation continued to grow in the face of hard times.

      

On August 7, 1969 First Christian Church caught fire and burned to the ground.  The sanctuary was rebuilt and dedicated in 1971.

      

The congregation moved into its new facilities on July 15, 2001.

      

Obviously, our church has a long history in the Shelbyville community, and as we draw close to our 200^thanniversary, it is worth taking a few moments of time to consider the impact our congregation has made upon our community and upon our own lives, and the impact of the church as a whole as well.  When we think about an individual church – either this one or another – our thoughts most likely turn first to the impact that congregation has had upon our own lives.  Think of the friends you have.  Some of my closest friends are those I have made in church.  You wouldn’t know the names of Steve Dalton, Kurt Lohr, Doug Beck, and Al Flasko, but they were four of my closest friends growing up, friends I made at church.  Other congregations to which I’ve belonged have provided other friends for a lifetime.  How many of you have made close friends in this congregation?  In another congregation?  How many of you have had church friends in this congregation or another congregation praying for you when you really needed prayer?  Think about all the other significant events that take place in church? How many of you were married in this church?  In another church?  How many of you have had a family funeral in this church?  In another church?  How many of you had someone from church come to see you in the hospital or visit with you in a funeral home?  How many of you were baptized in this church?  In another church?  How many of you had a child dedicated in this church or another church?  How many of you can still see those events in your mind as you think about them?  How many of you had a Sunday School teacher, a deacon, an elder, a minister, or someone from this or another congregation who made a difference in your life?  How many of you can still those folks in your mind, and how many of you can feel that lump in your throat as you think about such special people that are no longer with us?  I can think of so many friends, so many weddings, so many baptisms, so many baby dedications, so many funerals I have seen or in which I have been a participant.  There are so many amazing memories I have from church and cannot imagine what my life would be like without the influence of the church.  We don’t always know the impact our church has, just as we don’t always know the impact our lives have had.  And we probably won’t ever know the full extent, at least not in this life. But one day we will know.  One day we’ll know of all the ways in which our lives mattered and made a difference and all the ways in which our church mattered and made a difference.  To know of the difference our church and our lives make is one of the gifts of eternity.

      

Skeptics often attempt to rewrite history when it comes to the impact of the church.  Amazingly, some skeptics of faith will attempt to convince us that the church really has not been influential throughout history and that it has not really accomplished much.  Nothing, however, could be further from the truth.  How many people would have been left destitute if not for the immense resources churches have provided to feed the hungry, to clothe people, to bring shelter; how many people left sick if not for the hospitals founded by churches, how many patients left untreated if not for the countless volunteers who traveled to all corners of the globe to care for others, and who continue traveling to so many countries, even when they are threatened by war or illness? How many orphans would be left unloved if not for the countless families who embraced those precious children in the name of Christ?  Think of how many people have been educated because of the church.  Most universities were founded by churches, church groups, or denominations.  Sunday Schools were established by the church to provide education before there was much of a public education system in our country.  In areas around the world where disasters have taken place, the church is often the first or among the first on the scene.  They were there in the flooding along the east coast and they are there in California, and they will be there in all the other disasters yet to come.

      

In our own community, we partner with other churches and other ministries to make a difference.  There is Operation Care, Arriba Ninos, Awake Ministries, Mission Behind Bars and Beyond, Kentucky Refugee Ministry, Habitat for Humanity, Mission Behind Bars and Beyond, the hundreds fed each week by the Serenity Center, the men who are aided in their recovery through the Open Door of Hope Men’s Shelter, the women who find protection and help through the ministry to women, the children who have beds because of A Place to Sleep, and many others.  Shelbyville is a great place to live and a great community but below the surface of what we see as we live and work and move around town are so many needs and so many challenges that face us and without the presence of the church entering into those needs and challenges Shelbyville would be a very different place.

      

I believe we sometimes take for granted that the continued ministry of a church will always take place, but that is not a guarantee.  I have no doubt that the church as a whole will continue until the end of time, but we’ve all seen the churches that have closed their doors.  Sometimes it’s the small country churches that close as people migrate into the larger surrounding town and their larger churches.  But it’s also the larger churches as well.  Drive through Louisville or other cities and you will find many large church buildings that sit almost empty because the community changed around them and the churches did not adapt.  They did not reach out to their new neighbors and by the time they realized how much had changed in their neighborhood it was too late, and those churches reached a point of decline that was irreversible. (I must also add that, while we hear of churches that are closing their doors, many new churches are also being established.  In fact, there are more churches in the United States than at any time in our history). 

      

The first church, besides my home church, where I preached was West Middletown Christian Church in West Middletown, Pennsylvania.  The name of the town is a bit deceiving because it’s not large enough to have an East, let alone a West.  In fact, it’s not even a town, but more of a village stretched along highway 27, which begins just a few blocks from the Ohio River in my hometown and continues into Pennsylvania, to West Middletown and on to Pittsburgh and beyond.  For two summers – the summers of 1976 and 1977 – I served as a substitute minister for that small congregation.  I was only a year and then two years out of high school, with almost no idea of what I was doing.  I think a really good crowd in that church was 20 or so people, but the average was probably about a dozen.  Sometimes, when I’m home visiting my mom, I drive by that church and I’m always grateful to know that it is still there, and still open.  With so few members I had anticipated it would close many years ago. I don’t know how many people now attend, and by all appearances it’s probably not prospering to any great extent, but it’s still going, and I’m grateful it is, and I hope it continues on, but there is never a guarantee.  A church can seem large, prosperous, and invincible, but that can change.  A generation ago, who could have believed that Sears would by a dying company?  At one time you could order anything from the Sears catalogue, even a house!  When I was a kid, I loved to look through the Sears Wish Book when it came in the mail. Sears was the Amazon of its day. Speaking of Amazon, a company that now seems so invincible, founder Jeff Bezos shocked many people just days ago when he told employees of Amazon that he knew that one day that huge company would fail and pass away.  History reveals countless examples of institutions that seemed too large too fail, and yet failure came.  We can easily take for granted what we have as a church.  While Jesus said that the gates of hell will not overcomethe church (Matthew 16:18), he was talking of the church universal, not individual churches.  It is only a guarantee that the church at large will continue, not that individual congregations will always survive.  

      

Our church has served the Shelbyville community for almost 200 years, and it has been a gift to each of us in the years we have been privileged to be a part of the congregation. May we thank God for the great gift of his church!