Sermon April 15, 2012

1John 1.1-2.2 1We declare to you what was from the beginning, what we have heard, what we have seen with our eyes, what we have looked at and touched with our hands, concerning the word of life— 2this life was revealed, and we have seen it and testify to it, and declare to you the eternal life that was with the Father and was revealed to us— 3we declare to you what we have seen and heard so that you also may have fellowship with us; and truly our fellowship is with the Father and with his Son Jesus Christ. 4We are writing these things so that our joy may be complete. 5This is the message we have heard from him and proclaim to you, that God is light and in him there is no darkness at all. 6If we say that we have fellowship with him while we are walking in darkness, we lie and do not do what is true; 7but if we walk in the light as he himself is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus his Son cleanses us from all sin. 8If we say that we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us. 9If we confess our sins, he who is faithful and just will forgive us our sins and cleanse us from all unrighteousness. 10If we say that we have not sinned, we make him a liar, and his word is not in us. 2My little children, I am writing these things to you so that you may not sin. But if anyone does sin, we have an advocate with the Father, Jesus Christ the righteous; 2and he is the atoning sacrifice for our sins, and not for ours only but also for the sins of the whole world. “But…If…Then…” Some 40 years ago, the great psychiatrist and Presbyterian elder Karl Menninger wrote a small book entitled, Whatever Became of Sin? in which he lamented the loss of the word sin from the modern vocabulary. More than the loss of the word was the loss of the concept--the idea that we are people who sin against God and against each other--and therefore are in need of some outside intervention in our lives. Perhaps this started as early as the 1920s, when the story (almost surely apocryphal) is told of President Calvin Coolidge returning to the White House from church one Sunday morning to be greeted by Mrs. Coolidge, who asked what the sermon was about. Coolidge, who was known for his brief utterances is said to have responded with one word, “Sin.” Mrs. Coolidge pressed him, “well, what did he say about it?” The President answered, “He was against it.” Perhaps it’s better told through the eyes of Norman Greenbaum. Norman Greenbaum is a Jew, who in 1969 was a young rock-n-roller. One day, Greenbaum was watching Dolly Parton and Porter Wagoner sing a gospel song on the television. He thought to himself, “I could do that!” Greenbaum wrote and recorded an iconic gospel/rock song entitled, “Spirit in the Sky,” which became a huge hit and still gets airplay today. Now you know me well enough to know that I do not disparage our Jewish brothers and sisters, but Brother Greenbaum got it all wrong about sin. One of the prominent lines in the song is, “Never been a sinner. I’ve never sinned.” Obviously, Norman had never read Romans 3 which declares that “all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God.” He certainly had never read our lesson for today which states in verse 8 of the first chapter of 1 John, “If we say that we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us.” One of the great privileges I have as a minister is preparing young people for church membership through baptism in Pastor’s Class. Just a few weeks ago, we addressed the question, “what is sin?” The answer that we worked with is fairly simple and not original. Sin is anything that comes between us and God and each other. Paul described it as falling short--as in falling short of the goal of perfection. Of course, none of us can achieve perfection in this life, and so we all, by definition, sin. But we don’t like talking about it. Not as a nation and not as a church. In the first proclamation of a National Day of Prayer in 1863, President Abraham Lincoln called on the nation “to confess our sins and transgressions in humble sorrow, yet with assured hope that genuine repentance will lead to mercy and pardon.” 100 years passed. In the early 1950s, Congress passed a law that the president should henceforth and every year after that should designate a certain day in May as a National Day of Prayer and he should issue a proclamation so designating that day. President Eisenhower, in the first year, went back to Abraham Lincoln’s declaration, borrowed much of the language and used the word “sin” in that first declaration in the early 1950s. Dr. Menninger points out that in all the succeeding years, President Eisenhower left the word “sin” out. He points out that as of the early 1970s, in the 20 years that had passed, no American president, in issuing his call to prayer, used the word “sin” again. Eisenhower didn’t, Kennedy didn’t, Johnson didn’t, Nixon didn’t. Now 40 years have passed again from the publication of that book and, so far as I know, no president since then has used the word “sin” in his proclamation. Think about that. President Lincoln used the word “sin” in 1863. President Eisenhower did the same in the early 1950s. No president since then has used that word in connection with the National Day of Prayer. Dr. Menninger adds the interesting insight that Republican presidents talk about pride and self-righteousness, while Democratic presidents talk about shortcomings and mistakes. But no president actually has the courage to call Americans to repent of their sins. And we’d like to use Calvin Coolidge’s take on sin in the church. Admit we’re against it and be done with it. But it’s one thing to stop talking about sin and another to stop the practice of sin. That’s why Dr. Menninger wrote the book Whatever Became of Sin? His thesis is correct. We are living today in a society that has lost the concept of sin but not the practice of sin. We have forgotten the concept of sin but the practice of sin continues unabated. Years ago, a young woman named Rhonda came to see me in my study. She’d done something awful years before, and her pastor at the time told he it wasn’t her fault and that everything was alright. But it was not alright. She carried around with her a massive sense of guilt, which turned into a burden of shame. There’s a difference between guilt and shame and it is an important distinction. Guilt says, “I have done something wrong.” Shame says, “I am something wrong.” Shame is toxic, but guilt can be useful. After letting Rhonda talk for a long time, I asked her if the activity she’d carried around with her for years was sin. Sinful. Something which had come between her and God and others. She cried and said yes. I then read verses from today’s lesson for her. “8If we say that we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us. 9If we confess our sins, he who is faithful and just will forgive us our sins and cleanse us from all unrighteousness. 10If we say that we have not sinned, we make him a liar, and his word is not in us. 2My little children, I am writing these things to you so that you may not sin. But if anyone does sin, we have an advocate with the Father, Jesus Christ the righteous…” We prayed together--confessing the sin which had weighed her down for so long and asking for God’s forgiveness. Rhonda walked out a different person. Our Catholic neighbors are onto something with the sacrament of confession. Admitting that we have sinned and seeking God’s forgiveness is a powerful thing. But, I don’t see myself sitting in a little booth waiting for you come by and confess your sins. And so, our best effort can be a corporate prayer of confession--not to make us feel guilty, but as a means of unburdening ourselves of guilt by way of letting go of the things that separate us from God and from each other. To give structure to the process of seeking forgiveness from God--that’s what it’s about. Our Revelation class has said that the Prayer of Confession and Assurance of Pardon--can’t have one without the other--are good things and that we should continue them beyond the season of Lent. And so, we shall. “Whatever Became of Sin?” asked Dr. Menninger. Well, sin is alive and unwell. But God’s gracious forgiveness is greater than all our sin. Don’t let sin eat at you and tear you apart like it did to Rhonda. Confess your sin to God and accept his forgiveness--whether you do so on your own or as we pray on Sunday Morning. Sin is only a dirty word if we bury it. God’s grace can bring it out into the open and wipe it out. And that is good news for us, good news for Mansfield, and good news for the world. Amen.

Easter Sermon April 8, 2012

Easter Sunday April 8, 2012 “There’s a Savior at Hand” John 20:1-18 Early on the first day of the week, while it was still dark, Mary Magdalene came to the tomb and saw that the stone had been removed from the tomb. So she ran and went to Simon Peter and the other disciple, the one whom Jesus loved, and said to them, "They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we do not know where they have laid him." Then Peter and the other disciple set out and went toward the tomb. The two were running together, but the other disciple outran Peter and reached the tomb first. He bent down to look in and saw the linen wrappings lying there, but he did not go in. Then Simon Peter came, following him, and went into the tomb. He saw the linen wrappings lying there, and the cloth that had been on Jesus' head, not lying with the linen wrappings but rolled up in a place by itself. Then the other disciple, who reached the tomb first, also went in, and he saw and believed; for as yet they did not understand the scripture, that he must rise from the dead. Then the disciples returned to their homes. But Mary stood weeping outside the tomb. As she wept, she bent over to look into the tomb; and she saw two angels in white, sitting where the body of Jesus had been lying, one at the head and the other at the feet. They said to her, "Woman, why are you weeping?" She said to them, "They have taken away my Lord, and I do not know where they have laid him." When she had said this, she turned around and saw Jesus standing there, but she did not know that it was Jesus. Jesus said to her, "Woman, why are you weeping? Whom are you looking for?" Supposing him to be the gardener, she said to him, "Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have laid him, and I will take him away." Jesus said to her, "Mary!" She turned and said to him in Hebrew, "Rabbouni!" (which means Teacher). Jesus said to her, "Do not hold on to me, because I have not yet ascended to the Father. But go to my brothers and say to them, 'I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.'" Mary Magdalene went and announced to the disciples, "I have seen the Lord"; and she told them that he had said these things to her. We’re all here for different reasons this morning--and yet we’re all here for the same reason. Some of us are here because it’s Sunday. You’d be here whether it was Easter or the third Sunday in August, which is just Sunday. Every time the doors are open, you are here. You’re probably mad that we let the blizzard call off church two weeks ago. You’re here because it’s Sunday and you are here. And we are delighted that you are here. Some of us are here because it’s Easter, and, well, you try to come all the time, but for Easter--you’re definitely going to make it on Easter. You’re here because it’s Easter and we’re really glad you’re here. Some of you are here because your momma or your grandmamma wanted you here, and God bless you for coming. You be nice to Mom and Grandma. You’re gonna miss’ ‘em some day. You’re here because you are good children and grandchildren, and we are so happy you are here. And I’m here because, well, this is my job. Welcome to my job! I’m here every Sunday, too, though in times past, I’ve gone especially because it is Easter, and I’ve also gone to church to make my Mom happy. And we’re all here because a frightened and disheartened young woman named Mary Magdalene went down to the cemetery in the dark--and we all know the dark. We all know the dark places of life. Somewhere last week, a group of workers was told that the company was closing the plant, and they would all be out of jobs. Somewhere last week, a woman was told by her husband that he didn’t love her anymore. Somewhere last week, a soldier’s husband received word that his wife was coming back from Iraq--in a casket, and that he would now raise his children on his own. Somewhere last week, some of our neighbors lost their fight to stave off foreclosure, losing the only asset they had. Somewhere last week, a family was killed in an accident. We know the dark places. Somewhere, sometime, we’ve all been there--in despair--for different reasons. Mary was in the dark place because she had lost all hope. She and the others who followed Jesus had placed their hope in one who came at life in a different way. The world wanted a king who would dominate with might, and Jesus talked about the blessings of meekness. The world wanted a messiah who would bring justice by way of the sword, and Jesus spoke of loving your enemies. The powers spoke of punishment and retribution, but Jesus said forgive until you lose count. The power structure spoke of containing God in a box in the temple with restricted access, and Jesus said, “the kingdom of God is within you.” And now, those same authorities had taken Jesus and killed him--silencing him, and boxing him up so that he could be managed and contained. And Mary had come to the garden tomb in the darkness to finish the job of embalming his lifeless body which had died along with all her hope. She’d come to finish caring for the body of her Lord, but it was gone. She ran to get the others. They ran back. Then they ran away. They ran away because they didn’t understand it what the resurrection meant. The empty tomb was just an idea they couldn’t comprehend--a concept that had no meaning for them. Craig Barnes writes that we still run around when we don’t understand something. So, they ran. But Mary stayed. She cried, and bent over to look into the tomb. And in the tomb, two angels. The word angel simply means a messenger. But, these angels ask her a question, and she shows that she doesn’t understand what she sees. Then the gardener asks her the same question, and she again demonstrates her total lack of comprehension. And then, the gardener calls her by name, and the gardener is no longer the gardener, but Jesus. And by calling Mary by name, this is no longer a trip to the cemetery, but an encounter with the Risen Christ. This is important--none of the disciples understand or comprehend what is going on. The resurrection as an idea is a failure. The resurrection as a concept doesn’t work. The resurrection as a theory has no validity whatsoever. But, the resurrection as an encounter with Jesus is something else entirely--even if Mary still doesn’t completely get it. She wants to hold on to him--in her own way, to keep Jesus boxed up and under control, but that won’t work--not in the new world of the resurrection. And that’s instructive for us. We’re not here because we are certain of our hold on Jesus Christ. We’re here because in Jesus Christ, we’re certain of God’s love for us. We’re all here for the same reason--but not just because Mary had an encounter with the risen Lord, but because she told someone else about that encounter, then they encountered the risen Lord, and shared that with someone else. And all those encounters have become relationships. And down through the last 2000 years, women and men have encountered the risen Lord, and shared that encounter with others. And we are here today because we have all encountered the risen Lord, and we want to celebrate it together. Today, if not before, we have encountered the risen Christ in the waters of baptism. We have encountered the risen Lord in the singing and the praying, in the organ and the bells and in the choir. We have encountered him in the promises made with infants. And we will share the most intimate encounter with the risen Lord in the bread and the wine. The resurrection is not an idea to be comprehended, or a doctrine to be believed. The resurrection of Jesus Christ is a reality to be experienced. It is an intimate encounter. We sing “In the Garden,” not because it’s sweet and sentimental, but because when we do so, we acknowledge that Mary Magdalene’s story has become our story--that’s what that hymn’s about! And we are now part of an ongoing and unfolding story of Jesus Christ. Now, after having this encounter with the risen Lord, we have a job to do. Now, although we’ve already established that you are at my job, this job belongs to everyone. We are called to share the good news that this encounter is available for all. The good news is, there’s a savior on the loose--not boxed up all neat and tidy. This savior is out there in the real world, not just at loose but at hand, coming up along side us in all our dark places. And he knows all our names. Invitation to the Table You have joined your story to Mary’s, and therefore you are a part of Jesus’ story as well. Come to the table, where the story is both retold, and continuing.

Sermon May 6, 2012

May 6, 2012 Morning Worship @ First United Methodist Church (InterChurch Council Pulpit Exchange) Psalm 23 1 The LORD is my shepherd, I shall not want. 2 He makes me lie down in green pastures; he leads me beside still waters; 3 he restores my soul. He leads me in right paths for his name’s sake. 4 Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I fear no evil; for you are with me; your rod and your staff— they comfort me. 5 You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies; you anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows. 6 Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the LORD my whole life long. “The Gospel in Miniature” Invariably, when planning a funeral with a family, they will ask that the 23rd Psalm be included in the service. I will smile and say that with me, you get the 23rd Psalm whether you request it or not. The fourth Sunday in Eastertide is known as Good Shepherd Sunday. Traditionally, the text from John 10 is read—“I am the Good Shepherd…my sheep know my voice…” I’ve made no secret that I’m not fond of Good Shepherd Sunday. I don’t like being referred to as livestock—but today is different. Today, I want to dwell on the comfort afforded to us in the 23rd Psalm—the same comfort that it provides those who are grieving the loss of one they love. Martin Luther, the great 16th century reformer once said that John 3.16 was the Gospel in miniature. God so loved the world that he gave his only son… As miniature Gospels go, it’s pretty good The Gospel—literally, Good News—is that we are saved by a loving creator whose love for us is so great that he sent his son to live and die among us. In his life and death and life again, he showed us how to live and how to die. For God so loved the world… I think you can go back even further. I think the Gospel in miniature can be found in the 23rd Psalm—the great comforting words attributed to the shepherd King David. The Lord is my shepherd. I want for nothing. He provides food and water, correction when I need it. Boundaries with the rod and staff. The rod, by the way was a way of keeping the sheep where it was supposed to go—not to beat the sheep. In the Proverb “spare the rod and spoil the child,” that’s also what the rod refers to—boundaries, not beatings. The shepherd makes peace with my enemies, treats me like royalty, and promises lifelong—read eternal lifelong—dwelling in the Lord’s home. But the particular place where this Gospel comes into play at least for me is the 4th verse. Even though I walk through the darkest valley. I fear no evil, for you are with me. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil for thou art with me. One of the names given to Jesus Christ is Emmanuel, which means, “God with us.” Here is that concept of Emmanuel—God with us—long before Jesus’ birth. I will fear nothing for you are with me. In funerals, I will state that the person whose life we celebrate was without fear at the moment of death because God was with them as they walked through the valley of the shadow of death. No fear. And at those same funerals, I will assure those gathered that we can have no fear because God is with us. We can be hurt, we can be saddened, but we do not fear, because God is with us. Now the Psalms are the prayer book of the Jewish people, and hence they would have been Jesus’ prayer book, too. When Jesus was at his most painful moment on the cross. He cried out the words which open the 22nd Psalm—Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani—Aramaic for “My God, My God, why have you forsaken me.” Those words didn’t come from out of the blue. Jesus knew the Psalms like he knew the backs of his nail-pierced hands. The Psalms provide the reader with every kind of emotion—even abandonment and pain. My God, My God, why have you forsaken me. Saying those words would have been as natural for Jesus as it might be for us to sing one of those wonderful Charles Wesley hymns when we are happy. I came across an idea last week I’d never thought of before—from Michael Lodahl, a Nazarene theologian. If Jesus quoted Psalm 22.1 on the cross, what might he have been saying to himself as he carried his cross through the streets of Jerusalem to Golgotha. What if, before he experienced the abandonment of the cross, he had his own Emmanuel moment on the way to the cross. Might Jesus have been carrying that cross to his death saying, “even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear nothing, for you, God, are with me. I like that idea, in that Jesus walks with me through my darkest valleys because he has walked through his own. In his Good Friday sermon at First Christian Church, the Rev. Kent Joy preached about Jesus knowing our times of abandonment and understanding what we feel. Jesus knows our feelings of abandonment because they are his feelings, too. He also knows our fears, and assures us that we are not alone. Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will not be afraid, for God is with me. Last Wednesday, I participated in a fundraiser for the Muscular Dystrophy Association out at the Reformatory. The person who drove me home noticed my collar, and asked if I would pray for her and her family. She started to cry as she told me the most heart-wrenching story of mental illness and broken relationships I’ve ever heard—and I’ve heard a lot. In the middle of her story, she said, “I’m all alone, and no one knows what I’m going through.” I asked her if she knew the 23rd Psalm, and she said, “Sure, the Lord’s my shepherd and so on.” “Remember the part,” I asked her, “that starts, “Yea, though I walk the valley…” and she picked it up. “…of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for thou art with me.” She smiled and stopped crying. That’s not going to solve all her problems, but it’s always good to know that you’re not alone. The Rev. Steve Bentley, our Disciples regional pastor—kind of like your District Superintendent--was in Mansfield last week for our Disciples District ministers’ gathering. And he told us about one of our Disciples churches in Cleveland—St. Philip’s Christian Church where he has preached on occasion. He talked about the wonderful services they have every Sunday with enthusiastic worship and happiness on every face. As he talked, I began to wonder how big this magnificent congregation must be. 200? 300? Larger? It turns out that St. Philip’s Christian Church has about twelve members. They meet in a basement room around a space heater because their gas has been cut off. Tree roots outside the building are tearing at the foundation. The church is literally across the street from the projects. If any church has any thoughts that they are walking down the valley of the shadow of death, it’s St. Philip’s. If any church has a right to be fearful, it’s St. Philip’s. And yet, there is no trepidation there—no fear. Because God—Emmanuel—is with them. And they rejoice in that presence without dread. The mainline churches of Mansfield have big problems. Some might say that we are walking down the valley of the shadow of death. I do not agree, but I know this: Whatever we face, we can face it without fear because God is with us. We all--whether First Christian or First United Methodist--have financial problems we can’t ignore. We have empty pews we can’t ignore. We have building issues we can’t ignore. And at the root of all these problems is our failure to share the good news that Jesus Christ is in our midst at First Christian Church and First United Methodist Church in Mansfield. We need to invite others—not to solve our attendance issues, not to solve our financial matters, but because we want them to have an encounter with Jesus Christ. What could we possibly be afraid of? We mainliners treat inviting others to church as if it is walking through the valley of the shadow of death. What do we fear? Rejection, maybe? What if we all set a goal to invite at least one person to church during the month of May. And, trust me folks, First United Methodist Church and First Christian Church are not in competition with each other. Our competition is an increasingly unchurched culture. One person. Who knows what effect might ripple through our community if we do so. It would be Good News for the Church, Good News for Mansfield, and Good News for the world. Amen. --Chris Whitehead