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