The Sermon of the Faithful Widow

There is a saying that faith is having the ability to let go of any cliff you’re hanging on and trust God has something prepared for you at the bottom. Hopefully a soft landing. As the saying goes let go and let God. The widow and the unjust judge presents an alternative to the previous saying: Faith, as it appears in this story, is not about letting go and letting God, but about persistence. Faith, then, is more about the ability to strengthen your grip on the cliff, refusing to let go, because God’s justice is being demanded. It is refusing to let go because you believe God is not done. Persistence.

Of course it should be noted there are good kinds of persistence and there are bad kinds of persistence. For example, the good: Once upon time during the 60s a young lady’s father was invited to speak at an associational Baptist Christmas meeting in south Georgia. When she heard about the announcement she invited her entire church group to go with her. She said, “Y’all, let’s go hear him” and in her church “y’all” meant everybody. It didn’t mean, “You white folks.” So they all went to the big million-dollar church that hosted the meeting. As they went in, the church was singing, “Glory to God in the highest! On earth, peace, good will to men,” and the group went on in and sat down.

Well the pew in front of this group vacated, the people just got up and moved away, as did the entire row behind them. Suddenly there they were, a little island in the big sanctuary. Nobody to the right, or to the left, or in front or behind. Shortly, the chairman of the hospitality committee came steaming up the aisle, face flushed. A gentleman by the name of Al Henry was sitting at the end of the pew. The chairman punched Al on the shoulder and said, “He can’t stay in here,” pointing to the black fellow in their group. Oh Al just started singing, “Peace on earth, good will to men.” Then the chairman came around this vacant bench which the people had conveniently vacated for him and stood right in front the young black man, named McGee, and said, “Come on, boy, you gotta get out here. You can’t stay in here.” McGee couldn’t sing anything, but he started singing, “Peace on earth, good will to men.” Eventually the entire row started singing, “Peace on earth, good will to men.”

Now for the bad, because this story doesn’t end: The chairman became infuriated and shouted, “Did you hear me? I said you’ve got to get out of here. You’re disturbing divine worship!” He lunged over the bench and grabbed McGee and started pulling him over the bench. The group formed around their friend and demanded to talk with the pastor, but were denied. To make a long story short, the church deacons got the visitors outside and those deacons formed a big line and stood between them and the door to the sanctuary to make sure that they couldn’t get in again.

The pastor stood there with the deacons. A man named Clarence looked up to him and said, “You know, there’s something wrong about tonight, something awfully wrong. On the night when people are singing, ‘Glory to God in the highest and on earth peace,’ for a man to be dragged out of the house of God when his only offense is the color of the skin with which the Almighty endowed him, there’s something wrong.” The pastor looked at Clarence and said, “Yes, I agree. But this is the policy of our church and you should leave.”(Jordan, Clarence. The Substance of Faith and Other Cotton Patch Sermons. Pg. 136-137).

There is a difference in faithful persistence and unfaithful persistence. These past sixteen days we have experienced unfaithful persistence by a government intent on holding people’s livelihoods ransom until they get what they want. While some may hail certain parties as heroic, there is nothing heroic about putting others on furlough while you still receive a hefty paycheck. It is unfaithful persistence.

The widow in our story is put in a similar situation. The judge, responsible for caring her, refuses to hear her case. He has no concern for her because he doesn’t know the Lord or give a hoot about the people. She remains persistent and because of her faithful, just persistence, he eventually says, “Even though I don’t believe in God and don’t give a hoot about these people, because this woman has got it in for me, I’ll hear her case before she finally nags me to death.” It appears this old widow, every chance she got, was at the judge’s door, “You’re gonna hear my case? You’re gonna hear it?” Maybe she brought him a homemade apple pie and as he went to take a bite, said, “You’re gonna hear my case?”

Faithful persistence.

Do you recall the movie Network? There is a famous scene in which a news anchor takes on the form of a fiery Baptist preacher, winds the people up about the atrocities that take place in the movie and yells at the camera, “You've got to say, 'I'm a HUMAN BEING! My life has VALUE!' So I want you to get up now. I want all of you to get up out of your chairs. I want you to get up right now and go to the window. Open it, and stick your head out, and yell, 'I'M AS MAD AS HELL, AND I'M NOT GOING TO TAKE THIS ANYMORE!'”

The scene continues with persistence until the camera pans outside and suddenly every citizen in the area is screaming out their window as lightning strikes, “I’m mad as hell and I’m not going to take this anymore!”

Persistence.

Faithful persistence.

It would be a strange prayer, would it not, to stand outside your house and yell to God, “I’m mad, God. I mad that a prosecutor in Missouri dropped the rape case of a 14 year old because the accused is a star athlete and it would be bad for his political career.” I’m mad that our congress refuses to have a spirit of leadership, a spirit of compromise, and a spirit of justice in their hearts. I’m mad because friends continue to get sick from incurable diseases. I’m mad because we continue to sit on the verge of war. I’m mad because there are too many who are hungry, too many who are thirsty, and too many who are naked, and there’s nothing I can do. I’m mad at parents who abandon their children. I’m mad at the availability of drugs and the struggle of addiction some many fall into. I’m mad that suicide is third leading cause of death in America, and the third leading cause of death in Virginia among 10-24 year olds. I’m mad at the pain caused by cyberbullying. I’m mad at the diseases of depression and our consistent ignoring of mental health issues. I’m mad that children around the world are unable to go to school without the fear of a terrorist with a bomb taped to his chest. I’m mad at all the injustice in this world. I’m mad at you, Lord because you feel so absent. It feels you have abandoned us. Where, O Lord, is your justice! Where?”

You would be thought of as strange to say such a prayer out your window; yet our story this morning tells us that faithful prayer is not passive. It is not letting go in hopes Jesus will catch you. It is not a Jesus take the wheel kind of faith, it is a Jacob kind of faith that grabs hold of God’s leg and refuses to let go. That is the faith of the persistence widow. She is not going to let go until the judge hears her.

Jesus tells us to listen to what the wicked judge is saying. “How much more readily will God have compassion on and hear the case of his special workers who are in contact with him night and day! I tell you,” Jesus says, “he’ll hear their case at once.” Jesus makes a promise that God will hear the persistent prayers of his children who constantly pull on his pants leg, “Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!”

“But,” Jesus adds, “will the son of man find faith on the earth when he confronts it?” In other words, will Jesus find such faith among his followers when he confronts the injustice of this world? Will he find such persistence among his followers? Or will he find the Church hidden in their homes praying, “Lord, please, let us be left alone in our living rooms. Let me have my NASCAR, my books, my air conditioner and let me sing, “I’ll fly away.”

These past sixteen days have caused a little bit of a crisis of faith. As the Thursday default deadline neared and our government was still at an impasse, I felt a devilish voice speak of a historical reminder and I was preparing to experience a form a great depression. After all, every politician, as they continued to label their counterpart as the devil (side note: it is interesting that the most persistent thing we have taught our kids is not how to love but who to hate, who is evil, and how that message contradicts the one we hear in our hymn, “Jesus loves the little children of the world”), kept speaking of a great catastrophe and my level of anxiety grew because I knew there was a deadline approaching. We were running out of time. Where, O Lord, are you?

Then the widow began preaching to me and she preached hard, saying, “Joseph Ferrell Kendrick, you are a fool. Don’t you know it is the atheistic anxiety of the world that believes it is running out of time?” Her persistence preached, “It’s not justice that’s running out of time, it’s injustice that’s on the clock. It’s not hope running out of time but despair. It’s not life that’s running out time, it’s death“(Long, Thomas. “Learning to Tell Time” 2013).

And I said, “Take me to church!”

So she kept preaching that faithful persistence is to strengthen your grip on the cliff of life, refusing to let go because you know that this world is not as God intended and God is on the way to right the world. “Put your big boy pants on, preacher,” She preached, “you got work to do. Keep praying. God hears you and God is going to answer.”

And she still preaching this morning, “When the son of man comes to confront the injustice of this world, will he find a faithful persistent church? Or will he find a church buried deep in its faithless doctrines, its faithless politics, and its faithless traditions? Let us have the faithful persistence to hold on for one more day. Let us have the faithful persistence to stand at the door of the temple of the Lord, and knock until he answers. So put your big boy, your big girl pants on folks. God hears ya and God is going to answer.”

Amen, sister. Amen.

God's Justice, The Widow, and the Judge

Recently I attended the Elevating Preaching Conference hosted by the CBF of North Carolina and Wake Forest. At the conference I had the privilege of listening to three very inspiring sermons, all of which dealt with God's justice in some form. I invite you to listen to them here. The theme of the conference was a sense of place and I have been dwelling on that as I study and prepare for Sunday's sermon on the Widow and the Unjust Judge.

As I dwell on the passage I recall last week's episode of Glee. Now, I'm not a fan of the show but I wanted to see who they would handle the unexpected death of Cory Monteith. I can say that I thought they did well and poorly. They handled the grief of a painful loss very open and honestly with what I perceived as real emotion and not Hollywood emotion. Trust me, it was authentic, they are not that good of actors. However, I believe they failed in regards to providing a sense of justice by ignoring the cause of death. Cory was an addict and he overdosed. It is tragic but it is real and there are real people who deal with addictions on a daily basis and I believe they were denied a chance at justice by simply acknowledging that someone dear to them was an addict. (To the show's credit they did so at the end very briefly, in passing).

By ignoring the character's cause of death, they ignored the actor's cause of death, and by doing so they denied a sense of justice to addicts everywhere. But this is what we do, right? We ignore the issues of addiction, depression, suicide, and other mental health issues because we are terrified of admitting we struggle. We do not like to admit that we are flawed and are powerless at times (admitting such is the first step in the 12 step process).

The statistics are there (you can do a quick Google search and see): 1 in 10 adults in America deal with some form of depression. Among adolescents approximately 1in 8 deal with some form of depression. Approximately 30 million people in America deal with some type of addiction (drugs, alcohol, sex, food, gambling, etc.) and only 10% ever seek treatment for their addictions. In 2009 the US ranked 33rd highest suicide rate in the world. The suicide rate among 35-50 year olds has risen over 30% from 1999-2010. Approximately 1 in 12 teenagers have attempted or thought of suicide. Here in Virginia, suicide is the third leading cause of death among ages 10-24.

Among clergy approximately 45% experience depression or burn out, leading to an extended leave of absence from ministry; and I know several who have never recovered. Several, while in the midst of those depressions, burn outs, or other emotional stress, fall into numerous types of addictions and some have even taken their life.

The statistics are there yet we ignore the issue, pretending God's justice in the scriptures only applies to the enslaved, the poor, or the outcast. Ministers and others lose their jobs because of their struggles. As someone said in seminary, "I was taught, and I believe, if a minister 'sins' you forgive them and then you fire them." I was let go from a church in part because I struggle with depression. I was told by a deacon that Satan had a hold on my life and that until I ask God for forgiveness, I should not be allowed to be a minister at all. We ignore the issue, a faith issue, and refuse to address because we have come to believe that struggling should not be a part of the Christian faith or life.

It has been my experience when you talk with others about these issues they have constantly said, "Instead of finding love and care, I found rejection." Instead of finding justice, they have found injustice.

Reflecting on the widow's persistence for justice I realize we do not know what her case was about. We are not told what injustice had happened to her. Was she bamboozled out of her money? Was she hit by a car? Was she unfairly taxed? We know the law of Moses is supposed to protect her, however Jesus doesn't elaborate on her case, as is the norm in his parables. We understand the parable is about the persistence in prayer and seeking God's justice so what if the widow was an addict? What if she was on the verge of taking her life? What if she was struggling with depression or bipolar or schizophrenia or any other mental health issue? What if she was standing outside our church doors, banging to get our attention, and we continued to say, "Sorry, God's justice is reserved only for the physically oppressed, the physically poor, the social outcast." Are we not denying them God's justice?

Isn't God's justice more than dealing with oppressive government systems? And if so, should this not be something we talk about from our pulpits? If we choose not too, are we not denying people the same justice we gladly give to others?

Oppression is oppression whether it is physically or mentally and all of God's suffering children deserve God's holy justice.

'Cause God Is On The Move And One Came Back

For fun this morning, let us imagine Luke standing in the pulpit before his congregation and sharing this story with his congregation. Also, this sermon includes a lot of singing.

“And one came back, that is how this story goes,” he says.

Luke uses a preaching trick in which he identifies key characters with the sole intention of shocking his congregation. He draws the congregation in, raises their expectations, and then he shocks them. Luke did this earlier in the parable of the Good Samaritan, upon hearing that a priest and Levite walk by a certain beaten man, their level of expectations rise, they believe the priest and the Levite will stop and aid the person laying in the gutter. Luke shocks them, gives them a heart attack, when they pass the man by. How could they do that? They’re good church-folk, they should know better. Luke then presses the subject by introducing a third, and Jesus says, “And then a Samaritan happens by…”

The crowd is on edge, already the Priest and Levite have walked by, certainly the Samaritan will not stop, and Luke shocks the crowd, “And”, he preaches, “the Samaritan stopped…” Luke uses the same technique as he tells the story of the Ten Lepers.

“On the way to Jerusalem, Jesus was going through the region between Samaria and Galilee. As he entered the city, a group of ten lepers, standing at a distance, yells, ‘Jesus, Master! Have mercy on us!’ When he saw them he yells back, ‘Okay, go show yourselves to the Priests!’ And as they were going, they were cured. Now one of them, realizing he was cured, turned around and shouted, ‘Praise God! Praise God!’ Then he fell before Jesus and thanked him. This particular man was…”

The congregation is on pins and needles. They are anxiously waiting. “Who is the man?” They mutter amongst themselves. “Surely, he must be a good Virginia Baptist.”

“This man was a Samaritan.” Luke says. The congregation gasps once again. Luke tells us that Jesus didn't harp on the other nine. He simply asks his disciples a rhetorical question, “Were there not ten made clean? Where are the other nine? Was none of them found to return and praise God but this foreigner, this Samaritan? Get up and go on your way. Your faith has made you well.”

The other nine did nothing wrong. Luke is pretty clear they obeyed Jesus. They had faith he would heal them, after all they called out to him. He answered and they did as they were told. So why does Luke tell his congregation about the one who came back? Why is Luke specific about the one who comes back? Because Luke wants his congregation to know who Jesus is. Jesus is one who heals and does not demand anything in return. He wants them to know Jesus is one who does not chastise the other nine, who are not doubt praising God, they did just get their health back, instead he acknowledges the one who returned. Jesus accepts the man’s praise and tells him, “Get up and go on your way. Your faith has made you well.” Luke is specific about who the man is because he wants his congregation to know, God is on the move.

In the children story, The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, Mr. Beaver huddles Peter, Susan, Edmond, and Lucy together, so close they can feel the tickle of his whiskers, and said in a low whisper, “They say Aslan is on the move.” A curious thing happened, at the sound of the name Aslan, each one of the children felt something jump in its inside. “Edmund felt a sensation of mysterious horror. Peter suddenly felt brave and adventures. Susan felt as if some delicious smell or some delightful strain of music had just floated by her. And Lucy got the feeling you have when you wake up in the morning, and realize that it is the beginning of the holidays or the beginning of summer.” (Lewis, CS. The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe pg. 141).

At the sight of Jesus, Luke says, something stirs within the ten lepers, the ten outcasts, the ten who are exiled until they are cleaned, and they shout out to him, “Jesus! Master! Help us!” and Jesus returns the shout, “Go and show yourselves to the priests!” And they go. They obey. All ten shout to Jesus, “Have mercy on is!”. All ten show faith as they get up and go into the city. All ten are healed as they walk to the city gates. One returns. One returns to Jesus, throwing himself before the feet of Jesus, singing, “Praise God from all whom blessings flow. Praise him all creatures here below. Praise him above ye heavenly host. Praise him Father, Son, and Holy Ghost!” and Jesus says, “Get up and go on your way. Your faith has made you well. Let your light shine.” And the foreigner, the Samaritan, the outcast, the leper, left praising, “This little light of mine. I’m gonna let it shine. This little of mine, I’m gonna let it shine. Let it shine, let it shine, let it shine.”

Luke wants his congregation to know what happens when God is on the move. You see when God is on the move lepers get healed. Lepers get their lives back. Lepers are returned to their families. Lepers are made clean, are made whole. When God is on the move Jesus shows up and the unexpected foreigner returns because they have discovered that faith is the inability to stay away from Jesus. When God is on the move, the poor will be blessed, the mourning will be comforted, “Amazing grace, how sweet the sound.” The vile are found singing, “That saved a wretch like me”, the lost will be found singing, “I once was last but now I’m found”, When God is on the move the blind will see singing, “Was blind, but now I see”. When God is on the move the captives are set free singing, “My chains are gone, I’ve been set free. My God, my savior has ransomed me.”

When God is on the move the lame are found singing, “Lord, lift me up and let me stand, by faith on heaven’s tableland. A higher plane than I have found; Lord, plant my feet on higher ground”, the deaf will sing, “Said the little lamb to the shepherd boy, Do you hear what I hear? Ringing through the sky, shepherd boy? Do you hear what I hear? A song, a song, high above the trees with a voice as big as the sea, with a voice as big as the sea”, and the mute will sing, “I’m gonna sing, sing, sing, I’m gonna shout, shout, shout. I’m gonna sing, I’m gonna shout, “Praise the Lord!” When them gates are open wide, I’m gonna sit by Jesus side. I’m gonna sing. I’m gonna shout, “Praise the Lord!”

And God is on the move, Luke says. Would you like to know a secret? God is on the move, here today.

Yes, indeed, God is on the move and the foreign leper is returning praising, and showing us what faith looks like. It is the leper who reminds us of the light our faith shines. It is not the good Virginia Baptist, but the outsider who gets us singing, “Well now Jesus gave me light, I’m gonna let shine. Well now Jesus gave me light, I’m gonna let it shine. I’m gonna let it shine, let shine, let it shine, let shine.” It is the stranger who gets us to the feet of Jesus. Yes, God is on the move and when God is on the move all heaven is breaking loose. When God is on the move we cannot help but return because we are unable to simply stay away. And that is faith; and that is why Luke tells us who came back.

Would like to know another little secret? 

God is on the move in King and Queen County. God is on the loose in Bruington Baptist Church. God is on the loose in the lives of our teenagers and children. God is on the loose in the lives our young and old. God is on the loose in our Sunday school classes. God is on the loose in the lives of our Deacons. I know this not because a budget is being met but by the lives being saved, because of the mouths being fed, because of the mourners who are comforted, because of the sick who visited, because of the thirsty who are finding the everlasting water. I know this because I am hearing rumors of some people who cannot keep from singing, “This little light of mine…”

God is indeed on the move. And we cannot help but return forour lives have been made whole and we simply cannot stay away from Jesus. “Ourlight will not go out”, Luke says, “Cause God is on the move and one came back.”

The Audacious Faith of Our Children

I was going to preach this morning on the faith of our fathers and mothers; however the evidence of this past week as proved a theory I have had for awhile: Adults are less faithful than children are. At some point in the life of an adult we become cynical, bitter, and uncompromising. We choose to shut the whole thing down instead show a little faith in one another and in God. We are very much like the disciples, telling Jesus, “Look, we need you to give us a little more faith. Step up our faith. Give us more.” And Jesus tells us, “Why if you had the faith of a mustard seed, you could say to this pecan tree, ‘Uproot yourself and plant yourself in the lake,’ and it would do as you say. But you don’t.”

So, us adults, try to have that type of faith but are more like the old lady, having read this passage one morning during her devotional time, went outside and yelled at the big oak, “You, my good sir. Move!” The tree remained still and she said, “Yep, I knew it would do that.”

I hear a lot about how our children and teenagers’ generation is a faithless generation but I think our generations are the faithless ones. After all, if there is a decline in church attendance among ages 13-25, is it their fault or is it ours? I mean how much of their life is spent at home observing us parents and observing other adults and if they see a disconnect between what we say and do; then who is that really on?

Or is the decline in church the opposite? Is it the result of being too successful with our religious education in Sunday school and in our worship service?

According to survey’s (and you know how I feel about those surveys) what this generation of teenagers and young adults want is not a hipper church with hip music or a change in worship style but a change in substance. They want to be included, not excluded, and we can see that in our very own church when our teenagers ask, “Can we include some of worship music in our worship services?” The other factors include a challenge to live a holy life which to them is more than not having sex before marriage. For them it means living a kingdom style life which includes caring for the poor, the hungry, the thirsty, the naked, the sick, and the imprisoned. They want to attend church and know that Jesus is there in the lives of their people. They want to go out and get their hands and feet dirty. They want to look at the giant sycamore tree and say, “Move!” And here’s the funny thing, they actually think they can do it!

Where do you think they ever learned such nonsense? It is obvious to me that our children have just been too well taught by our Sunday school teachers, too well instructed by their parents, too well engaged in worship, and too well read of the scriptures. Obviously, we should have done a better job teaching our children to do as we do not as we say.

Let’s take a moment and look at Jesus’ relationship with his mother and family. After taking him to the temple to be dedicated, they run into an old man named Simon. Simon recognized the little baby as the messiah, congratulated Mary and Joseph, saying to Mary, “Listen, this little one is put here for the downfall and uplift of many in the nation, and for a symbol of controversy—your heart, too, will be stabbed with a sword—so that the inner feelings of many hearts may be laid bare” (Luke 2:33-35 Cotton Patch Gospel).  Flash forwarding several years later, we hear of Jesus wandering off from his parents at the temple and they couldn’t find him for a few days. When they did find him, sitting amongst the other preachers, listening and asking questions, Mary scolds him, “Listen here, son, why did you treat us like this? Your dad and I have been worried to death looking for you.” Do you remember his response? “Why were you looking for me? Didn’t you realize that I needed to be with my Father’s people?” Luke tells us they didn’t exactly catch on to what he had said to them.

So we flash forward several more years and Jesus is out preaching and proclaiming and healing when he is told his mother and brothers are outside and wish to speak to him. They came to bring him home. They wanted to say, “Now look, Jesus. You are about to take this thing too far. You come on home and be a good boy. We can give you a job as a foreman in the woodworking division of the carpenter shop. And I want you to forget about all of this business of being the messiah, and all like that.” (Jordan, Clarence. The Substance of Faith and Other Cotton Patch Sermons pg. 11).

Mary gave birth to Jesus and she constantly gave in to her motherly instinct to protect Jesus. It is not until the crucifixion when she finally relinquished him and gave him away. Gave him to humanity as God intended and at last when she lost him, she fully became his mother.

Clarence Jordan writes, “The Church, in a very real sense, gives birth to sons and daughters of God. She is the womb in which they are conceived. In my own case this was true. The little Baptist church in which I grew up nurtured me. In its womb I learned the Scriptures. I suckled at its breasts. And the little church thought it not only was my mother, but also my father. And when I began to go about my Father’s business, the Church said, “No, son, you’re piercing our hearts. We don’t want to give you up.” And when I finally persisted going about my Father’s business, my mother, the Church, renounced me” (Jordan. Pg. 12).

When I am asked why I am a pastor I have to come to answer that question with this statement: “It’s my parents’ fault. They took me to church where my Sunday school teachers taught me to read the bible; where my pastor taught me about God’s unconditional love; where my youth pastor encouraged me to listen and follow God’s call. If they wanted me to do something else, they shouldn’t have introduced me to Jesus and took me to church. They should have let me sleep in.”

And here is where I think the trouble is with the youth today. We have been too successful in our worship practices, our Sunday school teaching, our teachings of scripture. They have become too well read of the gospels and the prophets and they finally catch the point! Our children have gotten the cockamamie idea that God is to be obeyed, to be followed, and to be listened to. So they go out into their world with visions in their head and dreams in their hearts and start following the very God we have fathered and nurtured within them, then we say, “No, child; be my child. Don’t be so much like your Father.” (Jordan, pg. 12).

During my tenure as a youth minister I experienced a moment when a youth told me she would be missing church for a few weeks due to soccer. I was upset with her because church should be an important part of someone’s life and soccer should come second to Jesus. And then she said, “But you taught me to take Jesus to other people. You taught me to show my love for Jesus through his call in my life and with my talents. So that’s what I’m going to do. I am going to go play soccer and tell people about Jesus.”

Right when we start thinking our children weren’t listening to us, they show up with their dirty friends because they heard how much Jesus loved them. They show up volunteering to lead their younger brothers and sisters in worship because they heard how Jesus loves them. They show up demanding to be a part of the church leadership because they were they were future. They show up demanding the big ol’ tree to move and when a leaf falls to the ground they shout, “Halleluiah!” because they were told they could do it!

They show up demanding Jesus be present in their church because they heard that the church was to be out God’s business. They show up demanding more substance and accountability to live a holy life that is more than about abstaining from sex because they read the prophets, the gospels, and the epistles of James and John. They show up demanding more because they listened to their Father’s teachings. They leave because we have done too good of a job telling them to follow Jesus. So they abandon the security of their homes and go to the lowly desolate places. They become rescue workers, firefighters, social workers, teachers, doctors, pastors, and missionaries. They have abandoned our teachings for the teachings of Jesus when they realize they counter one another. No matter how much we’ve attempted to change or remain steadfast in our in our false biblical traditions, our children have listened to the voice of Jesus and followed him without fear or concern of where it will take them, and it has taken them away from us.

Such childishness pains us adults because here we are clamoring for Jesus to give us more faith; while our children are showing us, “If you have faith, even the size of a mustard seed, you could tell that big ol’ oak to move into the lake and it would get up move.” In our pain we tell them to grow up. We tell them that following Jesus with abandon is silliness. We tell them to grow up and listen to their mother. We tell them when they show up with their lost friends, “Well, now hold on. When we said Jesus love us, what we meant was…”

Several years ago, a local youth group started to experience an immense fluctuation in teenagers on Wednesday evenings and Sunday mornings. The youth had been encouraged to bring their friends to church and they started inviting them. One day a concerned parent, after suggesting the youth invite their friends, emailed the youth pastor, “I noticed a lot of the kids who are showing up to church come from rough homes. And I heard some even profess being atheist. I am concerned about my child being around those kids. I am afraid they will corrupt her and challenge her faith.”  In other words, when I suggested they invite their friends, I meant friends from other churches.

In our pain we have become afraid of our own children, and we kill their dreams. We kill their hopes. We kill our relationship with them, sticking them in the back room to be out of sight and out of mind until Youth Sunday rolls around. We put up stumbling blocks left and right of our own flesh and blood until they stay on the path we have designated for them. We kill their faith all because we want them to stay and listen to their mother, instead of listening to their Father. After all, whoever thought they would actually listen?

We live in a serious time that is in need of serious Christians, and I believe our children have listened too well to their Father. Which I guess leaves us with a few choices: either we continue to hold our ground and demand our children to grow up, shutting down our churches until we get our way; or we move ourselves to a nice shady spot with our traditions, staying there until we die and let them have run of the place; or when our sons and daughters give themselves with an abandon to following their Father in the lowly paths of the world, let us, the Church, not hold back and say, “Come, child; be your mother’s child.” Let us grasp their hands, seeing in them the image of their Father, and say to them, “Child, though it leads you to a cross, be a good son, a good daughter of your daddy.” (Jordan, pg. 13).  I like that option.