Lint
Sermon
The Lord Is Risen! He Is Risen Indeed! He Really Is!
Gospel Sermons For Lent/Easter
The topic this morning was not a misprint in the newspaper nor in your bulletin. The topic is "L - i - n - t" -- as in belly-button.
"Lent," L-e-n-t, is the season just before Easter when for forty days, excluding Sundays, we remember Christ's forty days in the wilderness (as described in the Gospel lesson this morning). "The primary focus is not on giving up one or two of life's minor pleasures, but rather on rededication of ourselves to the Christian life as a preparation for the Easter Season to come. Personal sacrifices, instead of being ends in themselves, become means by which we put our whole existence under scrutiny, reject those things that have drawn us away from Christ, and refocus our lives with Christ as the center. Lent is a time for introspection, for slowing down our helter-skelter existence, for times of quiet questioning."
I got that straight from the front page of last week's Market Street Newsfold. The newsletter of the First Presbyterian Church in Findlay brought a slightly different focus: in an article titled "Remember, You Are Dust." The article talks about the centuries-old tradition of "Ash Wednesday," the first day of Lent, and the smudge of ash placed on the forehead of many Christians to the words, "Remember, you are dust."
Terry Bard notes that many of us shy away from that, thinking of it as a curse, or judgment. It's not only "Catholic" (whatever we mean by that), it's unsettling to be reminded of our mortality. Yet, says Terry, the point is not curse but reassurance. He quotes Dr. Walter Brueggemann who wrote: "Human persons are dependent, vulnerable and precarious, relying in each moment, on the gracious gift of breath which makes human life possible ... God knows our frame, God remembers that we are dust. (And) remembering that we are dust, God reaches out to us in 'steadfast love.' "
The two newsletters together suggest that Lent should be a time of "quiet questioning" about the way we live in the reality of our mortality. What we do with the life God has given to us. A life whose reality is summed up well in the title of a meditation by William Leety of Covenant Presbyterian Church in Scranton, Pennsylvania, writing in Presbyterian Outlook. The title is "Desert Shield, Desert Storm, now Desert Jesus." Jesus in the desert of life is the subject of Lent. Leety writes: "Somehow the battle with God or with Satan seems mild now when set alongside scuds and tanks, barbed wire and boredom, fear and fatigue."
But the story of Jesus' time in the desert is told to remind us that in our time in the desert, be it in the desert of Saudi Arabia, or in the desert of our soul, God remembers that we are dust and reaches out to us in steadfast love.
That story of Jesus' time in the desert is actually a lot closer to our contemporary time in the desert than you might think.
Saddam Hussein is what Jesus would have become if he had succumbed to the devil's temptations.
Each of those offers us a sermon in itself.
The devil said, "Make bread from stones. Be completely self-sufficient, control your own destiny, take what you want whenever you want." Hussein says, "Yes!" Jesus says, "No!"
Well, at least do what you want, (said the devil). Claim God is on your side, instead of praying that you are on his side.
Put God to the test! Make him prove he's on your side! Hussein says, "Yes!" Jesus says, "No!"
Well then, be what you want (says the devil). Look at the kingdoms of the world, and take them for yourself. Worship power and you shall be powerful. Hussein says, "Yes!" Jesus says, "No!"
Jesus always says no to these very human temptations. Lent is the time to look at ourselves to discern the times when we say yes to temptation and the enemy we face in the desert is us. We become our own worst enemies when life is simply, take what you want, do what you want, and be what you want without regard for others and our God.
With that as our Lenten agenda, we'll need forty years not forty days. In fact, I've already had forty years and I'll need forty more to deal with all that. So let me suggest you start with the "Lint."
L-i-n-t, the little stuff that gums up your VCR, and your life.
L-e-n-t is from a word meaning "lengthen" or "lengthening days." The promise of spring. L-i-n-t suggests the need for a bit of spring cleaning in our lives. Getting the lint off our lives.
Too many of us, though, do the opposite. We visited Disneyworld a while back, and I've been intrigued to learn that they have a staff in charge of lint, or more accurately, dust. And I don't mean to clean it up and maintain their squeaky clean image. I mean to manufacture it and load it on in the haunted house. The way so many of us load it on in our haunted lives. The official Disneyworld book says, "For Disney maintenance crews (the Haunted Mansion) is a veritable nightmare. To keep it nice and dirty furnishings must be constantly covered with dust and covered with cobwebs. 'Dust' is purchased by the pound and distributed like grass seed from hand spreaders; yet it seems to evaporate into thin air. Legend has it that since the Magic Kingdom opened in 1971, maintenance personnel have spread enough dust to bury the Haunted Mansion."
In addition to the big stuff, too many of us load on piles of the little stuff. We work at it and wonder why life is dusty and dingy and dreary and dry and dead.
Two things to help clean house: 1) Give up giving up; 2) Give up gossip.
Give up giving up on yourself and on God. A lot of stuff we need to give up, but too many people I know give up on themselves and on God. They assume life won't work and they work hard to prove it; and find out they're right. The only thing easy in life is taking it easy -- giving up; we do it too easily.
I read an article recently on how easy it is to decide that something is impossible. You might call this the "lint" of history: Simon Newcomb, speaking at the turn of the century: "Flight by machines heavier than air is unpractical and insignificant ... utterly impossible." Or this: "We don't like their sound. Groups of guitars are on their way out." That was the management of Decca Recording Company in 1962 as they turned down the rights to record an unknown pop music group called the Beatles. And watch what you say to kids. A German schoolteacher said to a ten-year- old pupil: "You will never amount to very much." Little Albert was Albert Einstein. What if Orville and Wilbur, or Paul, George, John, and Ringo, or little Albert had given up?
That article concluded: "Why can some people accomplish the impossible while others cannot? The major factor is faith, the faith that this impossible feat should, must, and can be done. To that kind of faith, you simply add three other ingredients: creative thinking, hard work, and the unwillingness to give up. God does the rest."
Jesus was tempted, more than once, more than just that first "Lent," those first forty days after his baptism, and had every good reason but he never gave up. Get the lint off. Give up giving up this Lent!
And second, Give up gossip. That may sound like a new subject, but it isn't. Gossip is the favorite hobby of those who have given up on others and on themselves. Jesus says we are to live "by every word that comes from the mouth of God." Too many of us die "by every word that comes from the mouth of someone we thought was a friend." Gossip is saying about others what you feel about yourself. Now that everybody knows that, watch what you say about yourself to others.
A newsletter from a friend's church in Brooklyn, New York, brought this story: "There was a peasant with a troubled conscience who went to a monk for advice. He said he had circulated a vile story about a friend, only to find out the story was not true. 'If you want to make peace with your conscience,' said the monk, 'you must fill a bag with chicken feathers, go to every door in the village, and drop in front of each one a fluffy feather.' The peasant did as he was told. Then he came back to the monk and announced that he had done penance for his folly. 'Not yet,' replied the monk, 'take up your bag, make the rounds once more, and gather up every feather that you have dropped.' 'But the wind must have blown them all away,' said the peasant." So it is with words. They are easily dropped, but no matter how hard you try, you can never get them back again.
If you want to teach that to children so they'll remember, use the words of the theologian in the movie Bambi. Thumper the Rabbit learned this from his mama: "If you can't say sumpin' nice, don't say nuttin' at all."
Jesus knew everything about everybody. He was tempted but he never gossiped. Give up gossip this Lent! Instead, live as the famous writer "unknown" put it:
Promise yourself to be so strong that nothing can disturb your peace of mind. To talk health, happiness, and prosperity to every person you meet. To make all your friends feel that there is something good in them.
Promise yourself to look at the sunny side of everything and make your optimism come true. To think only the best, and to expect only the best.
Promise to be just as enthusiastic about the success of others as you are about your own. To forget the mistakes of the past and press on to the greater achievements of the future. To wear a cheerful countenance at all times and to give every living creature you meet a smile.
Promise to give so much time to the improvement of yourself that you have no time to criticize others. To be too large for worry, too noble for anger, too strong for fear, and too happy to permit the presence of trouble.
-- Adapted from the "Optimist's Creed" written by Christian Larson
It's Lent.
Get the lint off and live in Jesus Christ.
"Lent," L-e-n-t, is the season just before Easter when for forty days, excluding Sundays, we remember Christ's forty days in the wilderness (as described in the Gospel lesson this morning). "The primary focus is not on giving up one or two of life's minor pleasures, but rather on rededication of ourselves to the Christian life as a preparation for the Easter Season to come. Personal sacrifices, instead of being ends in themselves, become means by which we put our whole existence under scrutiny, reject those things that have drawn us away from Christ, and refocus our lives with Christ as the center. Lent is a time for introspection, for slowing down our helter-skelter existence, for times of quiet questioning."
I got that straight from the front page of last week's Market Street Newsfold. The newsletter of the First Presbyterian Church in Findlay brought a slightly different focus: in an article titled "Remember, You Are Dust." The article talks about the centuries-old tradition of "Ash Wednesday," the first day of Lent, and the smudge of ash placed on the forehead of many Christians to the words, "Remember, you are dust."
Terry Bard notes that many of us shy away from that, thinking of it as a curse, or judgment. It's not only "Catholic" (whatever we mean by that), it's unsettling to be reminded of our mortality. Yet, says Terry, the point is not curse but reassurance. He quotes Dr. Walter Brueggemann who wrote: "Human persons are dependent, vulnerable and precarious, relying in each moment, on the gracious gift of breath which makes human life possible ... God knows our frame, God remembers that we are dust. (And) remembering that we are dust, God reaches out to us in 'steadfast love.' "
The two newsletters together suggest that Lent should be a time of "quiet questioning" about the way we live in the reality of our mortality. What we do with the life God has given to us. A life whose reality is summed up well in the title of a meditation by William Leety of Covenant Presbyterian Church in Scranton, Pennsylvania, writing in Presbyterian Outlook. The title is "Desert Shield, Desert Storm, now Desert Jesus." Jesus in the desert of life is the subject of Lent. Leety writes: "Somehow the battle with God or with Satan seems mild now when set alongside scuds and tanks, barbed wire and boredom, fear and fatigue."
But the story of Jesus' time in the desert is told to remind us that in our time in the desert, be it in the desert of Saudi Arabia, or in the desert of our soul, God remembers that we are dust and reaches out to us in steadfast love.
That story of Jesus' time in the desert is actually a lot closer to our contemporary time in the desert than you might think.
Saddam Hussein is what Jesus would have become if he had succumbed to the devil's temptations.
Each of those offers us a sermon in itself.
The devil said, "Make bread from stones. Be completely self-sufficient, control your own destiny, take what you want whenever you want." Hussein says, "Yes!" Jesus says, "No!"
Well, at least do what you want, (said the devil). Claim God is on your side, instead of praying that you are on his side.
Put God to the test! Make him prove he's on your side! Hussein says, "Yes!" Jesus says, "No!"
Well then, be what you want (says the devil). Look at the kingdoms of the world, and take them for yourself. Worship power and you shall be powerful. Hussein says, "Yes!" Jesus says, "No!"
Jesus always says no to these very human temptations. Lent is the time to look at ourselves to discern the times when we say yes to temptation and the enemy we face in the desert is us. We become our own worst enemies when life is simply, take what you want, do what you want, and be what you want without regard for others and our God.
With that as our Lenten agenda, we'll need forty years not forty days. In fact, I've already had forty years and I'll need forty more to deal with all that. So let me suggest you start with the "Lint."
L-i-n-t, the little stuff that gums up your VCR, and your life.
L-e-n-t is from a word meaning "lengthen" or "lengthening days." The promise of spring. L-i-n-t suggests the need for a bit of spring cleaning in our lives. Getting the lint off our lives.
Too many of us, though, do the opposite. We visited Disneyworld a while back, and I've been intrigued to learn that they have a staff in charge of lint, or more accurately, dust. And I don't mean to clean it up and maintain their squeaky clean image. I mean to manufacture it and load it on in the haunted house. The way so many of us load it on in our haunted lives. The official Disneyworld book says, "For Disney maintenance crews (the Haunted Mansion) is a veritable nightmare. To keep it nice and dirty furnishings must be constantly covered with dust and covered with cobwebs. 'Dust' is purchased by the pound and distributed like grass seed from hand spreaders; yet it seems to evaporate into thin air. Legend has it that since the Magic Kingdom opened in 1971, maintenance personnel have spread enough dust to bury the Haunted Mansion."
In addition to the big stuff, too many of us load on piles of the little stuff. We work at it and wonder why life is dusty and dingy and dreary and dry and dead.
Two things to help clean house: 1) Give up giving up; 2) Give up gossip.
Give up giving up on yourself and on God. A lot of stuff we need to give up, but too many people I know give up on themselves and on God. They assume life won't work and they work hard to prove it; and find out they're right. The only thing easy in life is taking it easy -- giving up; we do it too easily.
I read an article recently on how easy it is to decide that something is impossible. You might call this the "lint" of history: Simon Newcomb, speaking at the turn of the century: "Flight by machines heavier than air is unpractical and insignificant ... utterly impossible." Or this: "We don't like their sound. Groups of guitars are on their way out." That was the management of Decca Recording Company in 1962 as they turned down the rights to record an unknown pop music group called the Beatles. And watch what you say to kids. A German schoolteacher said to a ten-year- old pupil: "You will never amount to very much." Little Albert was Albert Einstein. What if Orville and Wilbur, or Paul, George, John, and Ringo, or little Albert had given up?
That article concluded: "Why can some people accomplish the impossible while others cannot? The major factor is faith, the faith that this impossible feat should, must, and can be done. To that kind of faith, you simply add three other ingredients: creative thinking, hard work, and the unwillingness to give up. God does the rest."
Jesus was tempted, more than once, more than just that first "Lent," those first forty days after his baptism, and had every good reason but he never gave up. Get the lint off. Give up giving up this Lent!
And second, Give up gossip. That may sound like a new subject, but it isn't. Gossip is the favorite hobby of those who have given up on others and on themselves. Jesus says we are to live "by every word that comes from the mouth of God." Too many of us die "by every word that comes from the mouth of someone we thought was a friend." Gossip is saying about others what you feel about yourself. Now that everybody knows that, watch what you say about yourself to others.
A newsletter from a friend's church in Brooklyn, New York, brought this story: "There was a peasant with a troubled conscience who went to a monk for advice. He said he had circulated a vile story about a friend, only to find out the story was not true. 'If you want to make peace with your conscience,' said the monk, 'you must fill a bag with chicken feathers, go to every door in the village, and drop in front of each one a fluffy feather.' The peasant did as he was told. Then he came back to the monk and announced that he had done penance for his folly. 'Not yet,' replied the monk, 'take up your bag, make the rounds once more, and gather up every feather that you have dropped.' 'But the wind must have blown them all away,' said the peasant." So it is with words. They are easily dropped, but no matter how hard you try, you can never get them back again.
If you want to teach that to children so they'll remember, use the words of the theologian in the movie Bambi. Thumper the Rabbit learned this from his mama: "If you can't say sumpin' nice, don't say nuttin' at all."
Jesus knew everything about everybody. He was tempted but he never gossiped. Give up gossip this Lent! Instead, live as the famous writer "unknown" put it:
Promise yourself to be so strong that nothing can disturb your peace of mind. To talk health, happiness, and prosperity to every person you meet. To make all your friends feel that there is something good in them.
Promise yourself to look at the sunny side of everything and make your optimism come true. To think only the best, and to expect only the best.
Promise to be just as enthusiastic about the success of others as you are about your own. To forget the mistakes of the past and press on to the greater achievements of the future. To wear a cheerful countenance at all times and to give every living creature you meet a smile.
Promise to give so much time to the improvement of yourself that you have no time to criticize others. To be too large for worry, too noble for anger, too strong for fear, and too happy to permit the presence of trouble.
-- Adapted from the "Optimist's Creed" written by Christian Larson
It's Lent.
Get the lint off and live in Jesus Christ.
