Who's is Who's?

In a recent Republican Presidential nominee debate, Michelle Bachmann had this to say regarding a tax question an audience member asked, “And after the debate, I talked to that young man, and I said I wish I could have answered that question, because I want to tell you what my answer is: I think you earned every dollar. You should get to keep every dollar that you earn. That's your money. That's not the government's money.” In other words, no taxes.

Taxes are a big part our society. We're taxed on just about anything from paychecks to inheritance; from food to clothes; from winnings in the lottery to winnings on Wheel of Fortune. So, it is a nice thought that we wouldn't have to pay any taxes of any kind and it seems every Republican Presidential candidate is trying to out do one another with who go can the lowest on our taxes. But did you know you do not have to pay your taxes? We have what you would call a volunteer tax system. A few years ago the son of a congressman was arrested for tax evasion. The judge showed little mercy, going as far to say, “Our tax system depends on voluntary compliance. Therefore we must send a signal to other tax cheaters.” True story. Every April 15, we render to Caesar what is Caesar's without complaint or reservations; despite what the yellow billboards on the side of the road say. But when it comes to rendering to God what is God's, that's a whole other story.

Before every offertory in every church across the country, 83% of the people who will say the offertory prayer will offer up their own stories, own words of wisdom as to why the congregation should tithe, followed by quoting Malachi 3:10; followed by an explanation that a tithe is 10% of your monthly/yearly income. The offering plates will pass and those who feel compelled will give the appropriate amount while some withhold for various reasons. We do not look for excuses to not pay our taxes. Sure, we look for tax breaks; but we know an 11 year jail sentence awaits us if we do not “voluntarily comply” with our tax system. However tithing is a volunteer compliance system in which no immediate repercussions take place. I mean, how many times have the finance chairperson showed up at your door demanding your yearly tithe?

Our passage this morning is speaking to something other than separation of church and state or why you should pay your taxes or why you should tithe. Our passage speaks to the life that is required when we choose to follow Christ. Are you familiar with the hymn, “Take My Life, and Let it Be”? I once heard a story about this hymn; one that I believe will help the “something other” I believe the passage is speaking about. The story goes like this:

Laurie liked to play hymns on the piano and sing. She always started and finished with her favorite, "Take My Life That I May Be." And while she sang, she dreamed about the future. "Take my life that I may be consecrated, Lord, to thee...." What would she do with her life? She'd be lost in hopes as she continued, "Take my hands and let them move at the impulse of your love...."

But there was one line she never quite liked. "Take my silver and my gold, not a mite would I withhold...." It seemed a little out of touch with reality, that "not a mite" part. After all, you had to live in the world, didn't you? And it takes money. She wondered about her financial responsibilities as a Christian.

When Laurie graduated from college with an elementary education major, she took a one-year position as a teacher in a little village in Mexico. She had heard about poverty in Mexico -- but nothing could have prepared her for this. The teachers' apartments were right next to the school, if you could call them apartments. The other teachers called them "huts with plumbing," but they were mansions compared to where her students lived.

When Laurie first walked through the door of her own "hut," tears stung her eyes. What was she doing here? What was she thinking? Many of her friends had already "gotten settled" into comfortable American schools, with adequate incomes and nice apartments. They wouldn't think of going without a curling iron for a whole year, much less a coffee maker! How was she going to survive, hundreds of miles from everyone she loved and everything she knew?

There was a timid knock at her door. Several school-age children crowded into the doorway to get a peek at the new teacher.

Within a few weeks, those knocks at the door became daily occurrences. Late afternoon and early evening, the children would come -- to visit, for help with schoolwork, and often just to be there. She didn't mind the extra time spent with them. She was already starting to love these kids, their families, and this little village.

Laurie's few possessions were like treasures to them. They held her unlit candles gently in their laps, memorized all the faces in her family portrait, and paged through her paperbacks as if they were able to read them. It was fun to see how her "stuff" delighted them.

Laurie surveyed her homey little apartment. She had packed light for the year, but now many of these "bare necessities" she had brought seemed unnecessary -- even extravagant. (And then there's that small mountain of boxes and bins stored in her parents' basement!).

She had given up a lot -- especially income -- to come here this year. (She began to wonder what on earth she would have done with all that income.) She asked God how to use her wealth in the middle of so much poverty. For the first time, it dawned on her that an understanding of "Take my silver and my gold ..." began with the heart.

There was one thing she never let the children see. At least once a week, late at night when she was all alone, she pulled it out of the back of her closet: her graduation dress, a gift from her parents. It was the nicest dress she'd ever owned, but it was so much more than that: it was the pride of graduation, and great college memories, and home, and her parents' love -- all in that one special dress. It somehow brought her family closer to her, and when she was lonely it reminded her how special she was to them.
One day, in early spring, Maria knocked on her door. Maria had never before come to Laurie's, although her younger brothers and sisters were there often. Maria was in her teens and worked at the clothing factory in the nearby town. Her income fed the entire family.

Maria's eyes sparkled. She was getting married, in just two months. Laurie hugged her and congratulated her. Then Maria, head bowed, quietly asked Laurie for help. She had brought over a well-worn old dress and a white shawl, and wondered if Laurie could help her sew something special from them for the wedding.

Laurie held up the old garments, and tried to think of something they could design from them. Back home, she'd packed up clothes to Salvation Army that were far nicer than these. She told Maria they'd try, and Maria should come back Saturday to work on it.

That night she felt particularly lonely. Her college roommate had gotten married the day after graduation, and here she was in Mexico alone, unattached, and no one waiting back home for her. So, of course, she reached into the back of her closet for her dress. She hugged it to herself and cried softly, so aware of her emptiness in the middle of her little "Mexican adventure."

As she gently placed it back into the closet, those nagging words popped into her head. "Take my silver and my gold, not a mite would I withhold...." She pulled the dress back out and eyed it carefully. Yes, it was the right shade. Yes, it was close to the right size. Yes, it could be temporarily hemmed. Yes, it would be a perfect dress for Maria to use on her wedding day.

Laurie thought of the Psalm that says, "The earth is the Lord's and everything in it...." It started to make sense to her that, if everything is God's, then what we have is "on loan" from God, to be gratefully received and generously used. What was "on loan" to her from God could be "on loan" from her to Maria.

Letting Maria use her prized possession as a wedding dress suddenly felt like an honor to Laurie. She couldn't wait for Saturday, and the surprise she had for Maria. "Not a mite would I withhold...." It was a matter of the heart. (Mary Sue Dehmlow Dreir)

Jesus' response to the Pharisees is not a justification for paying a high/low tax. It is not a valid reason for the separation of church and state. It is something more. We live simultaneously in God's realm and the human realm, and Jesus calls us to responsibility in both. Go ahead: pay your state sales tax, license your cars, and file an honest tax return. Give to the government whatever it takes to conduct its business. But remember: our things as well as ourselves belong to God, and are here for God's purposes to be accomplished.

That is the something other, the something more I am referring too. The Lord your God is the one to whom you must do homage, him alone you must serve. Jesus asks for a single-minded commitment to God and God alone. God wants all our heart, all of our mind, and all of our soul. Henri Nouwen writes, “It is this unconditional and unreserved love for God that leads to the care for one another, not as an activity that distracts us from God or competes with our attention to God, but as an expression of our love for God who reveals himself to us as the God of all people.” It is in giving everything that is God's to God we discover the ability to live life in faithfulness in the good times and bad times, in sickness and health, in wealth and poverty. It gives us the knowledge that true joy comes from giving to God everything that is God's and that includes ourselves.

It is then and only then we can say with complete joy:

Take my life and let it be consecrated, Lord, to thee; Take my hands and let them move at the impulse of thy love. Take my feet, and let them be swift and beautiful for thee; take my voice and let me sing always, only for my king. Take my silver and my gold, not a mite would I withhold; take my moments and my days, let them flow in ceaseless praise. Take my will, and make it thine, it shall be no longer mine; take my heart, it is thine own, it shall be thy royal throne.

A Gentleman Always Accepts the Invitation

Once more Jesus spoke to them in parables, saying: “The kingdom of heaven may be compared to a king who gave a wedding banquet for his son. He sent his slaves to call those who had been invited to the wedding banquet, but they would not come. Again he sent other slaves, saying, ‘Tell those who have been invited: Look, I have prepared my dinner, my oxen and my fat calves have been slaughtered, and everything is ready; come to the wedding banquet.’ But they made light of it and went away, one to his farm, another to his business, while the rest seized his slaves, mistreated them, and killed them. The king was enraged. He sent his troops, destroyed those murderers, and burned their city. Then he said to his slaves, ‘The wedding is ready, but those invited were not worthy. Go therefore into the main streets, and invite everyone you find to the wedding banquet.’ Those slaves went out into the streets and gathered all whom they found, both good and bad; so the wedding hall was filled with guests. “But when the king came in to see the guests, he noticed a man there who was not wearing a wedding robe, and he said to him, ‘Friend, how did you get in here without a wedding robe?’ And he was speechless. Then the king said to the attendants, ‘Bind him hand and foot, and throw him into the outer darkness, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.’ For many are called, but few are chosen.” Matthew 22:1-14

I like weddings. I do. I think they have the opportunity to be one of the best days of anyone's life. Not just for the bride and groom but for all present: the new in-laws, the wedding party, the guests, the minister, the musician, everyone. My wedding was on a hot August night in 2003. Lacy and her mother had decided the wedding would be a classic formal wedding. The invitations we sent out included the words, “Formal Attire Required” or something to that effect. You may think it is rude to require guests to wear certain attire; but there is a time to suit down and a time to suited up, as Barney Stinson would say. A wedding at 7:00 pm is a time to suit up according to A Gentleman Gets Dressed Up.

Not only does a gentleman or a lady dress up for a wedding, they always say yes to the invitation. A gentleman/lady never turns down an invitation to a party, wedding, or banquet. Even if an excuse can be made, you are to never turn down an invitation unless you have already committed to a previous engagement. You are also to accept the first invitation you are given and not wait for a better offer. A gentleman/lady always accepts the invitation.

Jesus compares the kingdom of heaven to a king who gave a wedding banquet or feast for his son. All the who's who have been invited and when the feast is ready, the king sends his slaves out to tell them the party is ready. But the invited guests made light of the invitation; one went away to his farm, another to his business, while the rest seized his slaves, mistreated them, and killed them. Enraged, the king sent his troops, destroyed those murderers, and burned their city. Then he says to his slaves, “The wedding is ready, but those invited are not worthy. Go into the streets and invite everyone you find.”

The invited guests repeatedly refused the invitation to the wedding. They refused to come in for various reasons, some had work to do, some had businesses to run, others wanted to start a war. At one time they were worthy of the invitation to the wedding. Whether they were friends of the king or part of the high society that frequents the king's court does not matter. What matters is the point being made: those who were invited now find themselves unworthy because they refused the invitation; and the invitations have gone to others. Perhaps then, we could also say the church can be compared to a king who held a wedding banquet for his son.

The American church has spent a vast amount of money conjuring up programs, making numerous phone calls, sending out fliers, letters, emails, newsletters, building bigger church marques, all in the hopes that they will attract and gain members. Christian organizations and conventions spend an innate amount of time creating new specials that the church can spend ungodly amounts of money on in order to attract members. Yet, I bet if we were honest with one another, if the church was honest with itself, we would admit that these programs, fliers, events, letters, etc. are not really aimed at the lost or non-church folks. They are aimed at those who are inactive in their church membership.

Every church minister hears, “We think you should do this and this so we can have so and so back.” Or “So and so didn't like the previous minister, so hopefully they like you because we miss them.” Or “I stopped coming because so and so was a member and I didn't like them but I'm back now because they died.” True story. Every minister knows first hand when a church member talks about church membership, deep down they are talking about inactive members.

The church can be compared to a king who threw a wedding banquet for his son. How often have we organize an event and send out an invitation to every church member only to find the ones who come are the ones who we know and those we hoped to see have said, “Sorry, too busy” “Sundays are our only day together as a family” “We've got baseball” “It's hunting season”? For some reason the church continues to send them an invitation, only to have that invitation rejected or made light of; yet there remains a group of people who are desperately looking for a place to belong. How long will the church continue to worry about inactive members and ignore the ones who are here? How long will the church continue to invite the so and so's while ignoring the hurting and downtrodden? How long?

The Christian community is often more concerned about the people who aren't there then the ones who are. When I was a youth minister, students or parents would show for an event or Bible study and say, “No one's here. Where is everybody?” while 15 people sat in the room. I would laugh and sarcastically reply, “Well, we're here so does that make us no one? I mean are we not people?” Taken back they would reply, “I mean...you know what I mean.” Our mentality as the church is to think, “No one's here” instead of “Yay! You're here!” How often have you looked across the pew and thought, “I'm so glad who's here is here”? How often have you looked across the pew and asked, “Where is everyone?”

I think, in an odd way, that is the point Jesus is trying to make. The church leaders have continually rejected the invitation to the wedding. They have more important things to do then to go to a wedding. They thought they didn't need to respond to the invitation. They thought they would always be included, invited to the king's court. After all, they're important people. But the kingdom of heaven does not wait for those who continually reject the king's invitation. Eventually, their invitation will go to those who want to be invited.

The church can only wait for so long for the so and so's and who's who accept the invitation to come back until the food gets cold and the party guest leave. The wedding banquet goes on with or without us. The food is prepared and ready. The music is blaring and the people are dancing. The doors are open but the party won't wait forever for us before it starts. It will begin with us or without us. That is the kingdom of heaven. It is a place that will not wait until we're ready for change. It is a way of life that gives us limitless grace while giving us limitless demands. The kingdom of heaven is given to those who accept the invitation to be a part of it and live into it.

Imagine that you are throwing a party. Guests begin to arrive but you do not see your best friends. What do you do? Do you wait until they show up or do you start the party? It doesn't mean they can't join in later. It simply means the party will start without them because those who are there, those who accepted the invitation are worthy. The kingdom of heaven is not a kingdom that waits to get started. And that's the point Jesus is trying desperately to make with the chief priests and the church elders. “The kingdom of heaven will be brought forth whether you want to be a part of it or not.” The longer a church waits for prodigal members to return, the sooner the church will discover they have ceased to exist and find those who would have accepted the invitation are no longer interested.

A few years ago, I watched a movie called, Yes Man, starring Jim Carrey. Jim plays Carl Allen who is stuck in a rut with his negative attitude. He was a “no” man; always saying no to anything. He would say no when his friends wanted to hang. He would reject every invitation because he didn't want to go. Then one day he runs into an old colleague who invites to a self help seminar. Carl reluctantly goes to the seminar where he learns about the power of yes. Carl discovers that living in the affirmative, by saying yes to the invitations life gives him, amazing and transforming experiences.

After watching the movie I decided to do a life experiment and say yes to every opportunity life gave me except when those opportunities proved to be unhealthy for me, such as doing drugs or playing chicken on tractors with Kevin Bacon. Saying yes to the invitations God presented me led me to a better a life; a life that was full, a life that finally had meaning. It is that type of life I believe saying yes to the invitation to the opportunities God gives us is what brings about a better story. A story that reflects that of a wedding: celebration with music, food, and dancing.

I need to be clear. When I refer to living life to the full and the fullness the invitation offers us, I am speaking to something more than just the invitation to eternal life. I am speaking to living the life God is providing for us here and now. The church often concerns itself with the eternal and beyond. Asking the question, “What's heaven like?” or “How do we know?” We concern ourselves with raptures and end times because it's unknown. All our imaginations are left with are vivid images described in our scriptures. But I believe the invitation Christ refers to in this parable goes past the unknown and into the known. I believe the invitation to the banquet was an invitation for the elders and chief priests right then and there. The feast was ready after all.

The kingdom of heaven is often compared to a wedding and a banquet. A dinner held in honor of those married into the kingdom. I've been told that there will be a great feast, with dancing and drinking, (the Baptist will frown at the drinking) but the feast will be epic. The wedding party will be one to remember. However, I truly believe we do not have to wait until the final days or until our death to live into this story. The wedding banquet is ready, all we have to do is show up, turn the music up and let the sounds of the party bring all those who are looking for invitation in. In other words, let us not wait on the who's who and the so and so's before we start the party. Because the food will get cold and people won't wait around. Let's celebrate the wedding that is to come and the wedding that is already here.

To Forgive is Divine But Really, Really, Really hard

In “An Essay on Criticism”, Alexander Pope writes, “Good-Nature and Good-Sense must ever join; To err is human, to forgive divine.” Forgiveness is a divine act. It is why, when instituting the Lord's prayer, Jesus includes “Forgive us of our debts as we forgive our debtors.” Forgiveness is a part of the divine act of God and the parable of the Unforgiving Servant is an example of God's divine forgiveness; however, the parable to points to a difficult reality, to forgive may be divine, but it is really, really, really hard to do. The parable of the unforgiving servant creates a bracing image of the importance of forgiveness; not only in the church but in life as well. Even more, it assumes that the practice of forgiveness is part of the human response to the rule of God.

Our story this morning begins with Peter asking Jesus a basic question, “Jesus, how many times must I forgive a member of the church who sins against me? Seven times?” Jesus replies with a direct answers, “Not seven times but seventy-seven times.” In other words, Jesus says, “We do not limit our grace and forgiveness to a brother or sister of the church. We forgive and we forgive.” Jesus then says, “For this reason the kingdom of heaven may be compared to...”.

As the story begins, we encounter a ruler who decides to settle accounts with those who serve him. The story does not give the details of why the first servant owed the king, Jesus just tells us that the slave owed his master, ten thousand talents. In today's market, with interest and inflation, that amount would total somewhere around a $1,000,000,000. A near impossible number for an individual to owe another; but how the servant racked up the debt is not the point; the large amount is for us to know that this servant owed a great deal of money to the king. The servant is unable to pay the money back, so the king orders the man, along with his wife and children and all his possessions to be sold as compensation. The servant throws himself at the king, begging him to take pity on him and have patience and he will pay him back. The king, out of pity for the servant, released him and forgave his debt.

Immediately after being forgiven of his debt, the servant came upon one of his fellow servants who owed him 100 denarrii; and seizing him by the throat, he said, “Pay what you owe me.” Compared to what the first servant owed the king, the debt of the second servant to him is but a drop in the bucket. In today's setting, the first servant is owed a measly $1000. Yes, it's considerable but with time, the second servant could pay him back. The first servant would have none of it and through the second servant in prison.

The other servants were distressed. So, they went to their master, the king, and reported what had happened. Then the king summoned him and said to him, “You wicked slave! I forgave you all that debt because you pleaded with me. Should you have not have had mercy on your fellow slave, as I had mercy on you?” And in anger, the king handed him over to be tortured until he would pay his entire debt.

Several preachers and interpreters struggle with this parable and its attachment to Peter's question. They complain that the parable, which is about the necessity of forgiveness, is not a suitable example of vv.21-22, which rejects limits for forgiveness.

They are right. The parable is not a suitable example of limitless forgiveness; but Matthew joined the parable to Peter's question not because both teach the same thing, but because both treat the topic of forgiveness, even though with two emphases. The parable is not, and was not intended to be, an illustration of Peter's question and Jesus' answer to the question. Matthew indicates a connection rather than an example or proof. The parable picks up only part of the subject of forgiveness, the necessity to forgive.

When it comes to dealing with parables, the question we must always ask is, “What does this parable seek to do, and how does it accomplish its purpose?”

The parable seeks to create a drastic understanding of what it means to be forgiven and to forgive. The first servant owed an unpayable debt. Many of us naturally identify with the troubles of the first servant and are relieved on hearing that his predicament was solved. We know what it is like to owe a great debt and be forgiven of the debt in some form. While we may not have the bank forgive our debt, we do know what it means to have someone forgive us in some sense. If not, if we've been fortunate not to have that issue, we still know what it means to be forgiven because the first part of the parable points to the enormous, unpayable debt of sin and God's stunningly gracious forgiveness.

If the story had started with the first servant demanding that his colleague pay what he owed, for he was fully within his rights to demand to be paid. What makes his actions reprehensible and shifts our allegiance is the contrast between the treatment he received and the treatment he gave. We hear the first servant plead for the king to have mercy on him, and then after receiving the king's mercy, we hear the second servant beg the first for mercy and the first servant shows him none. The parable then addresses the point Jesus is trying to make, “You have been forgiven so you are to forgiven. Not seven times but seven times seventy. You are to forgive and forgive and forgive because you have been forgiven.”

But the parable raises a question, “Is God bound by the unlimited forgiveness of vv. 21-22?”

Asking about the limits of God's mercy is certainly legitimate, but it is not the concern of this parable. In the end we should recognize that God is the only one who ultimately can hold humanity accountable. The concern of the parable is God's forgiveness and the seriousness of failing to mirror God's mercy, not an atonement theology or a general discussion of judgment. Within Scripture a focus on the boundless mercy of God does not preclude judgment, even if mercy is given more emphasis. “God does not insist upon his pound...But God insists upon the dignity of his mercy.” We must not treat God's mercy cavalierly. God's mercy is not effectively received unless it is shown, because God's mercy transforms. Forgiveness not shown is forgiveness not known.

Perhaps another story will help:

Once there was a man of means who was old and ill. He called his only son and said, “My dearest son, I know that I was not the best father when you were growing up, but I had a poor example from my father. He was much too involved in making money when I was a boy. Before he died, he asked for my forgiveness. I, of course, gave it to him. After all, he was my father. However, I made the same mistake and spent too much time with my business and making money and not enough with you. No, I am old and ill, and as my father did, I am asking your forgiveness. Unlike my father, I do not want you to wait until I die to have everything that is mine. I can no longer run my business. You and your wife are capable. I will give you my business now. I ask only that you take care of me until I die.”

The son merely nodded, not sharing what was in his heart. He and his wife moved into his father's home, taking the finest room for themselves and moving the old man to a small, sparse room. Little by little, they took more and more away from the old man. They sold all of his fine clothes, books, and other possessions and kept the money for themselves. The old man wore rags, and because they were ashamed of him, they made him eat in the kitchen with the servants. Eventually, they moved him out to the barn, where he slept in a corner in his rags. Soon the man and wife forgot the old man was alive.

But their son did not forget his grandfather. Each day the child would sneak into the barn and spend time with the old man. The old man embraced the boy, holding and telling him stories.

Sometimes the boy played alone. The father rarely spent time with his son, but as he was rushing off to work one day, he watched as the child moved rags and blankets from one stack to another.

“What are you doing?” asked the father.

“Well,” said the son, “I take some fine blankets from the house and put them in one pile. I take dirty rags and put them in another.”

“Why do you play this game?” asked the father.

“Oh, I'm practicing for when I am a man like you. I will have these very fine, warm blankets, and I will save the dirty rags, like the ones grandfather has, for you.”

The man realized what he had been doing, and, with tears in his eyes, swept the boy into his arms. Then he went to his father to beg forgiveness for the way he treated him. The old man forgave him.

Weeping, grandfather, son, and grandson returned to the house. (Corinne Stavish)

The parable of the unforgiving servant pictures magnificent and limitless grace of God in forgiving the incalculable debt of sin; however, grace always brings with it responsibility. The forgiveness of God must be replicated in the lives of the forgiven. And the warning is clear: where forgiveness is not extended, people will be held accountable.

The parable raises one more question: What if Christians lived their lives as a people who have truly been forgiven and forgive as they have been forgiven? It's a tough question to answer on a day when across America we reflect and remember the attacks on the Pentagon, the Twin Towers, and United 93. But I believe it helps to know this: When the planes hit the Twin Towers, as far as a I know, none of the phone calls from the people on board were messages of hate or revenge. They were all messages of love. There were no phone calls from people asking for their money or calls to people who owed them a debt. They were calls of love and forgiveness. For me, that tells me if we lived as a forgiven people, we might see less devastation in our world. And I think that's the point of the parable.

Ministers as Knights of Faith: The Absurdity of it All

"Faith is a miracle, and yet no person is excluded from it; for that in which all human life is unified is passion, and faith is a passion." Soren Kierkegaard, Fear and Trembling and the Sickness Unto Death, 77


(Read The Minister's Ego and The Minister: Changing the Bells and Whistles before as a recap).

Stanley Hauerwas writes (of Matthew 3:13-17), "The baptism of Jesus is foundation of Christian ethics. Here Jesus speaks his first words in the Gospel, explaining to John the Baptist the purpose of Christian ethics: "to fulfill all righteousness." Here is revealed the source of Christian ethics, which lies in the interrelationship between the members of the Trinity: the Father who opens heaven and speaks, the incarnate Son who goes down, rises, and fulfills all righteousness, the Holy Spirit who descends and rests upon."  (Stanley Hauwerwas and Samuel Wells, The Blackwell Companion to Christian Ethics pg 14)

The minister has all that is needed for him to change his basic desires. In the foundation of her baptism, the minister is given the necessary elements to change her id. Though it is difficult to do considering the minister functions in a church system which seeks to make "Christian" an adjective, an epithet, a style--when what God offers is particular actions--verbs--through which ministers can become and be distinctive nouns--people, disciples, witnesses. (Hauwerwas, pg. 13). The issue resides in the traditional understanding of Christian ethics which tries to make the world a better place without becoming a better person. In order for a minister to truly change the church system, they first will be challenged to change themselves.

The issue of a minister's id resides in their understanding of Christian ethics. If ethics is simply about making the world a better place without becoming a better person, i.e. doing good by giving to organizations or donating items without becoming a better person, i.e. living sacrificially, loving others as Christ loves them, then the mode of ethics that is followed is not going to change the id. One could argue that if we give enough to charities or watch info heart wrenching stories on the 700 Club, eventually our ids will change. The problem though is that the changing of our desires is not the purpose of the giving. The purpose of the giving is the ego fulfilling the id's desire to make oneself feel better or less guilty. If the ethic's purpose is only to appease a feeling of guilt or basic desire to be loved, then the ethic does not change us. It is an adjective.

In the church system the term Christian is used to qualify a noun or a person; giving more information about a person or object, i.e. the Christian Bible, or the Christian wife. The term Christian is regulated to giving more information about an object or person, instead of being who someone is. Returning to the minister's baptism, in our baptism we see all that Jesus has embodied. There are three dimensions of the baptism of Jesus that constitute the our Christian ethics. First is heaven is opened. The gospel begins with the tearing of the heavens and ends with the tearing of the temple curtain (Hauerwas, pg. 15). Second, God's Spirit descends like a dove, giving God's people his power. Third, God speaks. God tells everyone the importance the gift of Jesus is, "You are my Son, the Beloved,; with you I am well pleased." Mark 1:11. "God tells us that Jesus means everything to God, and that God makes himself fully known in Jesus. It also holds out the promise that, just as God gives everything to Jesus, everything he gives to Jesus he gives through Jesus to his people." (Hauerwas, pg. 15).

"Jesus has everything the Father has to give, and he gives us this everything in the unlikely place called baptism in the church" (Bruner, pg. 94). Through our baptism, we have been given everything Jesus has been given, and in those gifts, ministers are given a new set of basic desires in which our egos will strive to satisfy. But these new desires are no longer worldly desires, they are desires in which the kingdom becomes a reality. That reality is brought to fruition through our passion and our faith in who Christ is the direction and the purpose of the story in Scripture. The kingdom is defined and identified by and through Christ; therefore, our service in ministry is an extension of the service of Christ, making our basic desires those of Christ's basic desire to serve humanity with great humility.

Soren Kierkegaard observed that from the moment we are born, "man is not yet a self": we struggle to discover who we are and our relation to the world around us (Christopher M. Drohan, "Alfred, The Dark Knight of Faith" Batman and Philosophy: The Dark Knight of the Soul pg. 187). Kierkegaard compares two fundamentally different ethical orders in his work Fear and Trembling: those who champion infinite justice as their ethical ideal, and those who champion personal love, devotion, and faithfulness as the moral high ground. These two ethical orders exist within the life of ministry because they are the orders that gives us meaning and purpose for each one extends from the ethical order of Christ.

The best way to look at this is through the ethical order of both Batman and his servant Alfred Pennyworth. For Batman justice is sociopolitical. "Justice is served when life and liberty are protected, namely by the laws and legal institutions founded in justice's name" (Drohan, pg. 185). Batman works with these institutions because they are the ones responsible for defending justice; however he is the first to break the law if he deems it unjust. Batman believes justice is something concrete that no legal system could ever completely capture. There are situations that exceed abstract legal codes and laws, i.e. stealing food to feed your family and jaywalking are hardly morally reprehensible; yet they are illegal and subject to the full punishment of the law (Drohan, pg. 186). Batman's ethical obligation belongs directly to the very justice that the law gets its power from.

For Alfred, justice is not so much a matter of social structure, but a personal matter of treating people with respect, kindness, and love. Alfred's actions reflect his intrinsic belief that people are duty-bound to each other, and that justice occurs when one serves another to the best of the one's ability (Drohan, pg. 186). For Alfred, justice is found in the very words of Jesus, "But whoever wishes to be great among you must be your slave; just as the Son of Man came not to be served but to server, and to give his life a ransom for many." Matthew 20:27-28. Alfred views justice as a duty, honoring his promises, cares for those he is responsible for, and values the work he has chosen. "Thus when Alfred agreed to serve the Wayne family, the commitment was a blood oath, a lifelong obligation to be broken only by dismissal or death." (Drohan, pg 186).

Where as Batman shows us justice as law, peace, and fair institutions, Alfred shows us a much higher justice, that of justice as love and devotion. Likewise, ministers may view justice as a duty and is only carried out through loving one another as Christ loved us (John 13:34). In our ordination, we bound by duty and honor to serve our fellow brothers and sisters. With the laying on of hands, we take on a lifelong obligation to be broken only in the resurrection of the body. We commit ourselves to a standard of ethics that is tattooed onto our hearts, minds, and souls; and we seek to fulfill this form of higher justice with all our strength. Yet, the ethics we abide by, the justice we seek is inherently unfair, because there's never a guarantee that one's kind deed will be reciprocated (Drohan, pg. 186). This is true of a minister; in fact it is rarely the case that our congregants will return our love and devotion with the same attentiveness. Still, we are bound by duty to them because of our ordination. Our ordination and our baptism creates a love that is unconditionally to the church and the members of the church.

In a way, it is absurd to love an institution and people unconditionally because we must willingly give ourselves and our form of justice over to the church because it is through the church that God's story is being told and God's justice is taking form. It's absurd because the church's actions are often misguided and self serving; yet the minister serves a the reminder that the church is called to a higher duty in Christ. We serve them with great love and respect, even though that same love and respect is not a given because that is our duty. Faith against all odds and faith amidst the absurd--this is the minister's existential condition (Drohan, pg. 187).

This is where Kierkegaard's observation of self is being formed in the minister's identity. We are given a perpetual state of anxiety within the church system because we try to define ourselves distinctly from our environment and from the mass of other people surrounding us. "We despair at the absurd paradox of trying to constitute a unique identity amidst places and histories that existed before us, and despite the opinions and identities that others impose upon us. And yet the moment we define ourselves for others is the moment we succumb to their histories and definitions, never really arriving at our own individuality. Thus an, "an existing individual (minister) is constantly in a process of becoming," says Kierkegaard" (Drohan, pg 188). While our ordination serves as our oath, our baptism serves as the movement of being constantly in a process of becoming. Our baptism into the Christian faith led to our ordination into the ministry of faith. Our ordination into ministry of faith leads to our duty bound lives serving God. And serving God is full of absurdity and paradoxes.

Abraham is possibly the best example of this absurdity. After years of trying to have a child, the Lord rewards them with the promise that he and Sara will conceive and have a son. Several years after the promise is fulfilled, God asks Abraham to take Issac up to the land of Moriah and "there you shall offer him up as a holocaust on a height that I will point out to you." Genesis 22:2. God was asking Abraham to sacrifice the very gift God gave him in Issac, whom he loved more than anyone else on Earth. Despite the absurdity of the commandment, Abraham does what he is asked. He submits to God's task.

Kierkegaard remarks on this moment, saying: "He believed by virtue of the absurd; for there could be no question of human calculation, and it was indeed the absurd that God who required it of him should the next instant recall the requirement. He climbed the mountain, even at the instant the knife glittered he believed...that God would not require Issac" (Drohan, pg 190). Kierkegaard means by "virtue of the absurd" that Abraham believed, he means that Abraham was able to trust God because he was being asked to do something unfathomable. That he could find no reason for God to give him such an impossible task did not dissuade him; instead, it actually made him believe in it's necessity (Drohan, pg 190).  Instead of speculating or questioning God's motives, Abraham simply trusted in God because God had never let him down or betrayed him.

The minister's id is about the absurd. Our desires are to fulfill a mandate at that is simply impossible to do: "Love one another as I have loved you" John 13:34. It is truly impossible for ministers to love those in their care as Christ loves them because we do not have the ability to do so. Yet, we know that this absurd request or requirement is possible for Christ has given us the necessary tools to see it done. Where God provided a ram for Abraham, God provided the actions and words of Christ. Our basic desires changed in our baptism, duty bound in our ordination, are absurd to carry forward but with the faith that moves a mountain, we know that we can because God has never betrayed us.

Like Abraham, Batman, too, believes by the virtue of the absurd. Externalizing and organizing his pain in the form of a bat who hovers over the city of Gotham, Bruce is able to carry himself self-assuredly inspite of the horrific images/memory of his parents' death. In the face of the absurd, he has confidence in a more infinite justice, to which he resigns himself (Drohan, pg 190). Kierkegaard tells us that resignation is the surrogate for faith," for a person resigns herself to what is infinitely just, that justice becomes the crux of her very existence, and the ground for her faith (Drohan, pg 191). The minister, like Batman, at once feels her life has meaning, and she looks beyond her own pain and suffering toward easing the pain and suffering of others. Ministers no longer focus on their selves, instead he willing sacrifices himself for others. The minister, in a very real way, becomes a prophet or as Kierkegaard says, "become more like knights. Unwavering in their mission, completely devoted to their just cause. A prophet, like Batman, is one of these "knights of infinite resignation" for he has dedicated his life toward sowing infinite justice. Their life is now but a means to an infinite end, an end that surpasses all other concerns, including self preservation (Drohan pg 191-92).

Ministers who live into this role of a prophet often find themselves on the outside of the church. There is not room in the church system for prophets. They disrupte the flow of politics. They speak truthfully into a community that is unable to handle such truths and in turn crucify them; yet, the minister is required to have a little of the prophet in him. It is a burden but those who have chosen to be the prophet live into the ethic of a knight of infinite resignation. These prophets in the form of advocates for social justice, advocates for equal rights, men and women who dedicate their lives to a meaning greater themselves are beyond magnificant with what they acheive; but they are resigned to the reality that their justice will not come in their lifetime. While they hold the title of minister, their dress and actions are not of ministers. They are something more.

In contrast, the minister in the church, is a knight of a different breed. We, like Alfred, are not devoted to some infinite and ideal virtue, but to a humble trade. We do not strive to make the infinite real, but to perserve the life of the church. As long a Batman is preserved by Alfred, so is their justice; just as the minister perserves the church, the prophet's justice is preserved. Thus we realize the same justice but we do so vicariously (Drohan, pg 192). Yet, we surpass the justice of the knight of infinite resignation by simultaneously realizing love, which is to say a justice made tangible in the instant (Drohan, pg 192). In each visit we make, each sermon we give, each funeral and wedding we officiate, with each loving embrace we give our church, we make the justice of God tangible and real in that instant. The minister sees justice in everything they do; therefore in their actions they become knights of faith. The paradox of this higher ethic is that on the surface it looks so ordinary, so banal (Drohan, pg 192).

Kierkegaard describes the typical knight of faith, saying:

The moment I set eyes on him I instantly push him from me, I myself leap backwards, I clasp my hands and say half aloud, "Good lord, is this the man? Is it really he? Why he looks like a tax collector!" I examine his figure from tip to toe to see if there might not be a cranny through which the infinite was peeping. No! She is solid through and through. Her tread? It is virgorous, belonging entirely to finiteness; no smartly dressed townsperson who walks but to Fresberg on a Sunday afternoon treads the ground more firmly , he belongs entirely to the world, no Philistine more so. One can discover nothing of that aloof and superior nature whereby one recognizes the knight of the infinite. He takes delight in everything, and whenever ones sees him taking part in a particular pleasure, he does it with the presistence which is the mark of the earthly human whose soul is absorded in such things. She tends to her work. So when one looks at her one might suppose that she was a clerk who lost her soul in an intricate system of book-keeping, precise is she. She takes a holiday on Sunday. She goes to church (Drohan, pg 193).

There is nothing fancy about the minister. The humble minister is dressed no different than a secretary or a digger. Looking at them, you might not know they are a minister. The knights of faith carry on with the daily grind; while in contrast the knights of infinite resignation are spectacular, their armor matching their self assurance, and their deeds expressing infinite flair. Yet, the meager knights of faith are nothing special and their deeds are routine.

The real difference between these two has nothing to do with the attention the receive. While the knights of infinite resignation are always waiting for some future ideal state, the knights of faith have found it, and are living it presently. Their eternity is not to come, but is found in the moment, as they realize that in loving and serving others they exercise the kind of fellowship that infinitely sustain humanity. For them, peace on earth must be made with every gesture and every action. And it starts by committing ourselves to another person and by helping that person in every way that we can (Drohan, pg 194).

In our ordination, we are committing ourselves to the service of God through the church. Each of us, in our space, serve a community with an unconditional love. We make the impossible possible by expressing it spiritually by our unwavering claim to an unconditional love of a people who are desperately seeking the God who came in Christ. We, unlike the prophets, do not seek out a justice for all, but only for the church we care for. While we serve together, we serve separately, with each their own people to love and care for. The minister commits his whole life and the entirety of his faith toward the service of his Christ through Christ's church. In remaining faithful to our congregation, the minister remains faithful to his ordination, to his baptism, and to the Christian ethic given by Christ. And this, Kierkegaard tells us, ultimately is "Love" (Drohan, pg. 195).

It is absurd to love a church with an unconditional love as a minister knowing that same love is returned to you with conditions. It is absurd to love a church unconditionally knowing that when you leave, while it may be sad for awhile and it may hurt the church, you will eventually be replaced and forgotten. It is the paradox of the absurdity of our ordination, of our baptism, and of our Christian ethic we live out the kingom of God in a real tangible form through our unconditional love: "By your love, they will know you are my disciple" (John 13:35). The minister is the dark knight of faith.

Do You Trust Jesus?

“Do you trust me?”

It's THE question. It's the question Aladdin asks Jasmine as they are escaping the palace guards and before she climbs onto the magic carpet to experience a whole new world. It's the question Donna Pinciotti asks Eric Forman in the epic Dine and Dash episode on That's 70's Show. It's a version of the statement Han Solo says to Lando Calrissian as he rescues Lando from the Sarlaac pit in Return of the Jedi. It's the question every sixteen year old asks their parents when they want to borrow the car. It's the question Jesus is, in a way, asking Thomas and Phillip. It's the question Jesus asks us on a daily basis. “Do you trust me?”

Well, do you?

John 14 is part of a larger story that is taking place. Jesus is gathered in the upper room with his disciples. He just instituted the last supper and he begins to lay some heavy news on his disciples. He informs them that one of them will betray him. He tells them that where is going, they cannot go. He informs Peter that he will deny Jesus three times. After laying the heavy news on Peter, he continues, “Do not let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God; trust in me also. In my Father's house there are many dwelling places. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a palace for you, I will come again and will take you to myself, so that where I am, there you may be also. And you know the way to the place where I am going.”

Thomas says, “We do not know where you are going. How can we know the way?”Jesus said to him, “I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes the Father except through me. If you know me, you will know my father also. From now on you do know him and have seen him.” In other words, “Do you trust me, Thomas?”

I'm sure there was stunned silence when Jesus made this declaration. I'm sure the disciples have been in stunned silence when the night began. Philip makes a statement. It's a bold statement. Philip said to him, “Lord, show us the Father , and we will be satisfied.” Jesus said to him, “Have I been with you all this time, Philip, and you still do not know me? Whoever has seen me has seen the Father. How can you say, “Show us the Father?” Do you not believe that I am in the Father and the Father is in me? The words that I say to you I do not speak on my own; bu the Father who dwells in me does his works. Believe that I am in the Father and the Father is in me; but if you do not, then believe me because of the works themselves.” In other words, “Do you trust me, Philip?”

It's an amazingly difficult question to ask a group of friends after dispelling them with bad news. It's an amazingly difficult question to answer when your best friend, your mentor, your teacher, your Lord is about to die. Jesus puts Peter, Thomas, Philip, and the others in a tight spot. How can they answer him knowing what he just told them? How can they answer with any word but yes? Perhaps that is why Philip's statement is the last statement from a disciple until John 16:29. Perhaps that is why, when they do speak, they say, “Now we know that you know all things, and do not need to have anyone question you; by this we believe that you came from God.” Perhaps that is why Jesus tells them, “In the world you face persecution. But take courage; I have conquered the world!”

In other words, “Do you trust me?”

I can see why John 14 is used at funerals. It's a very comforting chapter. It's comforting when standing in the shadow of death to hear that Aunt Mildred has entered the room Jesus has prepared for her. It's comforting when confronted by the evilness of death to hear that Uncle Ben is in a better place because Jesus said, “I am the way, and the truth, and the life.” John 14 is very comforting but the question Jesus asks, the question that lies underneath his claims, is not a very comforting question. “Do you trust me?” It's the amazingly difficult question presented in the midst of comforting words that leaves us with the inability to answer with any other word but yes. Plus, who among us wants to be the only one to answer no?

But do we really trust Jesus?

We're quick to say we do. We're quick to prove it by quoting a few scripture verses. We're quick to say a pray and say out loud, “I trust Jesus as my personal Lord and Savior.” We do not have a problem saying, “Yes we trust Jesus.” But do we really trust Jesus when he says, “I am the way, and the truth, and the life”? Do we really trust Jesus when he says, “Because you have seen me, you have seen God”? Do we really trust Jesus when he says, “Do not let your hearts be troubled. Put your trust in me and in God. I am going to prepare place for you and in my Father's house, there are many rooms and room for all”?

Do we really trust Jesus?

I believe if we were honest with one another, our answer would be no. It's difficult to trust Jesus when he says, “I am the gate; I am the good shepherd; I am the bread of life; I am the vine; I am the resurrection and the life; I am the way, and the truth, and the life.” It's difficult because we're afraid he cannot keep his word. We struggle to trust Jesus because our culture is full of reasons to not trust anyone's word. It is difficult to trust words that bring life when they bring pain as well. It is difficult to trust one who said, “Do not let your hearts be troubled. And, by the way, you are going to persecuted and die because of me.” It is difficult for us to trust the Son of God when he says, “It is finished.”

Do we really trust Jesus?

Fear is a powerful thing. It can turn your heart black you can trust. It can take a God filled soul and fill it with devils and dust. Fear enters our hearts, our minds, our souls causing us to lose the strength to trust in words of one whom we have never met. Fear causes us to lose our faith in Christ and look for certainty. We fear that there is something in God, in Christ, other than love. Often we see God's love surrounded by limitations and conditions; since our own love for one another is built on conditions and limitations. We fear that what presents itself to us as the truest form of love will lead us to disappoint me so we look for moments of certainty. In our fear, we look for bible studies that are concerned about certain salvation instead of studies on trusting in God's unfailing love. We concern ourselves with talks of raptures, end times, heaven and hell, instead of talks about how to love God with all our heart, all our mind, all our soul, and with all our strength. We fear that it isn't true when Jesus says, “I am the way, and the truth, and the life.” We fear that God isn't big enough to overcome our human limits. We fear death is stronger than God's love. We fear God did not accomplish everything God set out to do in Christ. And that is our greatest fear.

In our fear, we reject those who are hungry, those who are naked, those who are sick, those who imprisoned. In our fear we cling to the past. In our fear we demand proof from those who ask for help. In our fear, we only give ten percent. In our fear, we become blind to the one who says, “Because you have known me, you have known God.” In our fear, we become dispassionate. In our fear, we forget that Jesus is the way, and the truth, and the life. In our fear we continue to return to the voice of despair instead of the voice of love. Fear is a powerful thing.

Jesus lived his life with the trust that God's love is stronger than death and that death does not have the last word. We are called to live the same. We are called place our faith and trust in the one who says, “I am the way, and the truth, and the life. I am the resurrection. I am the good shepherd. I am the gate.” We are called to place our faith and trust in the one who commanded us to love one another as he loved us. We are not called to be a people of certainty but a people of faith. So, we return to the question that Jesus asks, “Do you trust me?”

I have found myself being forced to answer that question over the past few weeks, over the past few months. I have found myself being forced to answer that question in places I never expected. Last week, I encountered two situations in which I could hear Christ ask, “Do you trust me?” The first was in the form of a black man who walked six miles looking for food for his family. He wandered into the church office desperate for help. He came looking for something I knew we were supposed to provide. I became uncomfortable when, through his tears, he asked me if I could do anything. I walked him to the door, handed him some cash. Then he asked for something I did not expect. He asked for a ride to the store. I began to think of the reasons why I shouldn't but I could hear God's voice, “Do you trust me?” So, I drove a stranger to the store. But I failed when pressed to give up more of myself when he asked to have his prescriptions filled.

Do you trust me?

I was asked that question again last Sunday. Two hitchhikers on their way to West Virginia, found their way into our traditional service. They sat in the balcony and afterward, solemnly approached me asking for food and other supplies for their trip. In their voice I could hear the voice of Christ ask me, “Do you trust me?” In the presence of two strangers, I encountered the voice of the one who I had just preached. I took them over to the Lamb's basket drop box and we began to search. Fortunately, David Lynn was there and had more food to give them. As I left, these two strangers were gathering their things to begin a long trek to a new home. Yet, I could hear the voice of the one asking me again, “Do you trust me? There's more you could do.” I could feel the grip of fear on me. I could feel myself shrinking because I knew I had only trusted a little.

When we come to recognize that in and through Jesus we are called to be daughters and sons of God and listen to him with total trust and surrender, we will see that we are invited to be no less compassionate than Jesus himself. When we come to believe that in God nothing exists love and mercy, we will see Christ in our neighbors. When we come to trust and place are faith in the unending love and grace of Jesus Christ, we will live without fear and we will give up own lives because they do not belong to us. When we fully believe we are loved for who we are; when we fully believe God requires only us; when we fully believe that God is love, we will truly believe that in Jesus we have seen God because Jesus is love and Jesus is in the Father and the Father is in him.

So, we once again return to the question, “Do you really trust Jesus?” Only you can answer that; but know this, no matter your answer, God's love remains with you because we have seen Christ, we have seen God.

Our Prayer

You have the words of eternal life,

you are food and drink,

you are the Way, the Truth, and the Life.

You are the light that shines in the darkness,

the lamp on the lamp-stand,

the house on the hilltop.

You are the perfect Icon of God.

In and through you we can see the Heavenly Father,

and with you we can find our way to him.

Be our Lord, our Savior, our Redeemer,

our Guide, our Consular, our Comforter,

our hope, our Joy, and our Peace.

To you we want to give all that we are.

Let us give you all--

all we have, think, do, and feel.

It is yours, O Lord.

Please accept it and make it fully your own.

Amen. (Henri Nouwen)

The Voice of the Gatekeeper

http://bible.oremus.org/?ql=172575991

Every morning I walk through a smokey haze that builds up under the awning. Under the smoke, on and around the bench sit/stand a group of recovering addicts who in their smoke search for hope. Every morning I say hello and spend a brief moment checking in. When I say moment, I mean a moment, no longer than a minute. For the most part it is no more than a simple hello. Each morning, after the greeting, I walk up the ramp way, unlock the door, and go inside. Every morning my routine is the same.

One morning, the Wednesday before Easter, something strange happened. That morning my eyes saw something new. After a brief conversation with a young lady named Kim, I headed up the ramp way and out of the smoke filled air I heard a voice saying, "I love you. I love you. I love you." I looked back and my eyes became open to what was taking place. There on the bench sat a long hair, bearded man saying to each one, "I love you. I love you. I love you."

I began to tear up knowing that the voice that is speaking out of the smoke of our desperation, out of our pain, out of our selfishness, out of our ignorance is the voice of the one shepherd who is the good shepherd. The one who says, "I am the gate" "I am the good shepherd" "I am the living water" "I am the bread of life," speaks out of a cloud of nicotine to people who are clinging to whatever hope they have. The voice of the gatekeeper, of the shepherd is bringing life to those who feel they have none.

Unlocking the door, I turned back once more and the vision that came just seconds before remained: there sat Jesus saying, "I love you. I love you. I love you." I stepped inside knowing that Jesus would probably not come in that day.

From the shifting shadows of the earth, our eyes lift to Him, where steady arms of mercy reach to gather children in.

If I was being honest with you, I would tell you that I do not think, if Jesus was alive today, he would be with us this morning. It's not that I think he'd be completely absent from the church. I just do not think he would here. I do not think Jesus would choose to spend his time listening to someone, like me, preach about him or hear songs about himself. If I was being honest with you, I would tell you that I think Jesus is out gathering his sheep. If I was being honest with you, I would tell you that I think Jesus is out being Jesus while we sit here and practice piety. I would tell you that, if I was being honest with you.

From the shifting shadows of the earth, our eyes lift to Him, where steady arms of mercy reach to gather children in.

Our scripture this morning takes place right Jesus heals a man born blind. You may recall this story. Jesus and his disciples are walking along and they pass a blind man. The disciples ask, “Who sinned, this man or his parents?” Jesus responds, “Neither. He is blind so that God's work might be revealed in him.” Jesus then spits on the ground and puts mud in the man's eyes, tells him to wash in the pool. The Blind Man does as he is told and receives his sight. The story doesn't end there, remember?

The man is brought before the Pharisees and questioned. Eventually, he is thrown out of the synagogue. Having heard this, Jesus seeks the man out and after revealing himself, the Pharisees near him say, “Surely, we are not blind. Are we?” Jesus responds, “If you were blind, you would not have sin. But now that you say, “We see,” your sin remains.” Jesus then launches into his parable about a gate, gatekeepers, thieves, sheep, shepherds, destruction, and life.

Jesus doesn't speak in parables too often in John's gospel. At least, not parables we're accustomed to in Matthew, Mark, and Luke. Those around Jesus look at him confusingly so Jesus kindly explains. He is the gate. He is the gatekeeper. He is the one who has come so that all may have life and have it abundantly. Not only is he the gatekeeper, he is the shepherd. He is the good shepherd who lays down his life freely for his sheep. They know his voice, he calls them by name, and he knows them. Jesus explains, he alone is the gate, the gatekeeper, the shepherd, the voice that brings life.

From the shifting shadows of the earth, our eyes lift to Him, where steady arms of mercy reach to gather children in.

If I were being honest with you, I would tell you that Jesus' response to the Pharisees is an invitation. It's an invitation to freedom. Freedom from a restricting ideology that prohibits life. Freedom from an ideology that only brings about death and destruction. Freedom from an ideology focused to preserve the past by fearing the future and stealing breath from the present. If I were being honest with you, I would tell you that Jesus is freeing them from what binds them. If I were being honest with you, I would tell you that we, the church, have become the Pharisees. We've become the ones who are more about protecting the past, doctrines, and the way things were, than we are about providing life. If I were being honest with you, I would tell you that Jesus' declaration to be the gate and the good shepherd, frees us from that which binds us...ourselves. But that's if I was being honest.

From the shifting shadows of the earth, our eyes lift to Him, where steady arms of mercy reach to gather children in.

The voice of the gatekeeper frees us from ourselves. The voice of the gatekeeper brings life; the voice gives life. We fear that we won't be good enough so we ignore the voice. We fear that we are unlovable so we create a list of rules to give ourselves a sense of security. Our actions say, “If I just follow these rules, I know Jesus will love me.” We fear that we're doing it wrong so we put our trust in things of this world, things we can grasp, things we think we understand, instead of placing our trust in the one; the one who is both the gate and the good shepherd. Nothing but ourselves bind us to the voices of destruction and despair.

Yet, from the shifting shadows of the earth, our eyes lift to Him, where steady arms of mercy reach to gather children in.

A few weeks ago, I was talking with one my students about her relationship with God. In our conversation she expressed the desire to grow closer to God. She said, “I want to get close to God and trust that God loves me but I have to first love myself before I can fully love God. Right?” I laughed and holding a photo of Rembrandt's Return of the Prodigal Son, I asked, “Are you familiar with the story of the prodigal son? There was a man who had two sons. The younger son came to him and demanded his inheritance. The father divided his property between them and the younger son left home. He spends the entire fortune on women, wine, and dissolute living. Broke, he begs for a job feeding pigs. One day he decides, “I will go back to my father, after all how many of his hired hands are treated better than this. I will leave here, go to him, ask to be forgiven and to be hired.” So, he leaves. While the younger son was still far off, the father saw him and was filled with compassion; the father runs to him throwing his arms around him and kisses him. The son begins his practiced speech but the father tells a slave, “Bring some clothes, put a ring on his finger and shoes on his feet. Get the fatted calf, kill it, and let us eat and celebrate! For my son has returned.”

“The younger son, in no uncertain terms, wished his father dead when he demanded his inheritance. His motivation to return to his father is not out of a renewed love. He doesn't even really want to be a part of the family again. He simply wants to be hired. His motivation is about his own security. His own safety. He returns to simply survive. Here's the kicker, the father doesn't care. He doesn't even allow his son to finish his confession. He embraces him saying, “He's back home, and I am so glad to have him with me again.” I looked at her said, “All you have to know is that God loves you. Trust in that and one day, you will see the beauty that is within you. And you will love yourself because God loves you.”

It is true, from the shifting shadows of the earth, our eyes lift to Him, where steady arms of mercy reach to gather children in.

Jesus says, “I have come that you may have life and have it abundantly.” We yearn to become fully alive. We long to respond the voice that says, “I love you. I love you. I love you.” We desire a life free of our own damning, self protective habits. Yet, there is a voice that tells us otherwise. A seductive voice that tells us we are unlovable. A voice that manipulates our insecurities and preys on our greatest fears. A voice that is of nothing more than despair. A voice that says, “I fail and fail. I sin over and over again. I'm worthless. It is better that I get out of people's way, be forgotten, no longer around, dead.”

Christ has come to open our ears to another voice that says:

"I am your God, I have molded you with my own hands, and I love what I have made. I love you with a love that has no limits. Do not run away from me. Come back to me--not once, not twice, but always again. You are my child. How can you ever doubt that I will embrace you again, hold you against my breast, kiss you and let my hands run through your hair? I am your God--the God of mercy and compassion, the God of pardon and love, the God of tenderness and care. Please do not say that I have given up on you, that I cannot stand you any more, that there is no way back. It is not true. I so much want you to be with me. I so much want you to be close to me. I know all your thoughts. I hear all your words. I see all of your actions. And I love you because you are beautiful, made in my image, an expression of my most intimate love. Do not judge yourself. Do not condemn yourself. Do not reject yourself. Let my love touch the deepest, most hidden corners of your heart and reveal to you your own beauty, a beauty that you have lost sight of, but that will become visible to you again in the light of my mercy. Come, come, let me wipe your tears, and let my mouth come close to your ear and say to you, 'I love you. I love you. I love you.'" ¹

There is a voice that cries to those of us who feel lost in the wilderness. A voice that cries out to us and says, "You are loved." It is a voice that knows our name. It is a voice that we know. A voice that cuts to our core. A voice that relieves our doubts, our fears. A voice that accepts. A voice that loves unconditionally. It is the voice of gatekeeper. It is the voice of Christ.

Very truly I say to you, from the shifting shadows of the earth, our eyes lift to Him, where steady arms of mercy reach to gather children in.

1Henri Nouwen, Show Me the Way, pg 76-77

The Best I Can Do

Gracious, loving, and almighty God,

I am not sure how to respond to the news of Osama bin Laden's death. I feel relieved knowing that the world's most dangerous terrorist is dead. I am relieved knowing that head of a terrorist organization is no longer in this world. I am relieved. Yet, I am disheartened and sad. I am sad at the words chosen by your people, your children. Words that do not bring about reconcilation and peace but words of destruction. I understand the mix of emotion of anger and justice. I understand the responses. But they sadden me. I simply do not know how to respond. Therefore, I simply will pray to you.

Lord, I thank you for this life. I thank you that I may praise you publically, that I may write what is on my mind, and that I may speak and live a life of freedom thanks to you alone.

Lord, I lift up those who are serving in the military across the world. I lift up those men and women, of all nations, who are seeking to put an end to terrorism. I lift up those who have to make the difficult choice to take a life. I pray for those who have had the unfortunate experience of doing so. I pray your love and guidance be with all. Love them as you love me.

Lord, I pray for those who have been affected by terrorist attacks all over this world. I pray that your love and peace find them, protect them and lift them up. I pray they find a peace of mind in a violent world. I pray for the childern left with a family. I pray for those whose lives have been destoryed by war, murder, and destruction. I hold them up to you. Love them as you love me.

I pray for the hurting victims of the violent storms that took place last week. I pray that in the midst of their suffering they find you. I pray they know you are there. I lift them up and ask that you give the rest of us the strength to help them as they recover. We live in a creation where violence extends beyond war and hate. We live in a creation where violence manifests itself in the forms of horrible weather and natural disasters. Be with those affected by your creation both here, in Japan, and around your world. Love them as you love me.

Lord, I seek forgiveness where I and others who call your name have failed you. In anger, in fear, in relief we spew words that contradict your own words. We forget that you became one of us, you know our suffering, and we know that you do not take joy in the suffering of anyone. We know our justice is not your justice. I pray that you forgive us for when we do not lift high the risen Christ. Forgive us of our trespasses. Forgive us of our debts. Forgive us for when we have stumbled. Forgive us when we do not speak up for the oppressed. Forgive us for when we remain silent. Forgive us when we forget, “As surely as I live, says the Sovereign LORD, I take no pleasure in the death of wicked people. I only want them to turn from their wicked ways so they can live.” (Ezekiel 33:11) " "Do not repay evil with evil or insult with insult. On the contrary, repay evil with blessing, because to this you were called so that you may inherit a blessing." 1 Peter 3:9. I humbly come before you and seek forgiveness. Love us as you have loved others.

Grant us the strength to truly remember and live your words, "Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you." Give us the strength to change this world. Give us the strength to live out your life before others. Give us the strength to stand, to kneel, to serve. Guide us as we live. Love us as you have loved others. Lord, I do not fully know how to respond. So I am simply praying to you. Love me as you love others. Give me the courage to love others as you love me; knowing that is the best I can do.

Amen.