Playing It Cool? Not Jesus!
Sermon
No Post-Easter Slump
Gospel Sermons For Sundays After Pentecost (First Third)
"Good grief, Jesus, do you know what you're saying and doing? How often are you going to irritate people before you finally learn your lesson? It seems to us disciples that you're deliberately setting yourself up for another 'kick me' game. When will you ever learn the difference between deliberate antagonism and healthy confrontation? Surely, you're aware that you're flirting with disaster when you continue to rail, ad nauseam, against the scribes and Pharisees? Keep talking this way, and your days are numbered. So, watch it! Back off before you commit political and religious suicide."
I
The Scripture speaks plainly that Jesus, seeing Matthew sitting at the IRS office, said simply, "Follow me." And Matthew did. Who knows why? Maybe he identified with those who called Jesus "enemy"; for he,too, was enemy to many because of his vocation, often accompanied by graft and extortion. Or, perhaps Jesus had noticed Matthew hanging around on the fringes of the crowd, listening with growing interest to what the Master Teacher had to say about a God willing to forgive our sin, giving us a new chance in life; or about a God who insists that we will find greater joy in giving than in getting. Then again, perhaps Matthew had spoken with Jesus more than once; and Jesus knew that the tax collector was dissatisfied with the kind of life he was living, and that, now, the time had come for him to make a decision. Jesus surely saw the potential in Matthew and zeroed in on that potential.
One day, a long time ago, a sixteen-year-old boy was baptized and joined the church, not because he wanted to, but because his parents expected him to do so. Prior to that Sunday, he and his father hunted or fished almost every weekend. He had no joy sharing the new-found faith of his parents. In worship, Mother sat on one side of him, Father on the other, as he fumed. He did participate in the church's life, all of it, because he had no choice. At age eighteen, he still had no zeal to give up his atheism. One day, however, the pastor shocked him into a new thought. "Have you ever considered entering the seminary and the pastoral ministry?" The young man chuckled, sarcastically, to himself. "How could a nonbeliever become a pastor?" Nevertheless, for the next two years, that question haunted him. And then, after some life-changing experiences, he became a Christian, entered the seminary, and ultimately, the pastoral ministry.
The teenager's pastor saw something in his young parishioner that, in no way, could he, himself, begin to imagine. "How could a shy, fearful, didn't-know-what-to-say-when-someone-said-hello person possibly minister to others?" For forty years in the pastoral ministry, he did minister in exciting, energizing, and productive ways to all kinds of people.
Jesus saw in Matthew what no one else saw. Most had contempt for him and his tawdry profession. Jesus looked beyond the external appearances into Matthew's heart to discover a life waiting to blossom and flower. And so did that pastor looking at that frightened teenager.
`
We have a multitude of opportunities to speak the good news, not in some forced way, not through some evangelism program, not by some contrived denominational method. We play cards, go on picnics, attend ball games, visit across the backyard fence every day of our lives. And, in those relationships, people reveal themselves, their pain, their anxiety, their questions, their frustrations, as well as their joys, to us every day of their lives and ours. We needn't bludgeon them over the head, or embarrass them into silence, or ridicule them into the Kingdom. We do need to listen, not only, or even primarily, to their words, but to their feelings beneath the words; reflect those feelings, and then offer the invitation to experience new life. A filmstrip, produced by the Presbyterian Church years ago, has one of the characters say, "Your greatest witness is your deepest relationship of love." We change no one.We leave that to Christ's Spirit. We simply offer, and offer simply,
ourselves as "good-news sharers."
II
Today's text begins with Jesus' invitation to Matthew, "Follow me." That invitation opened the door to a multitude; for "many tax collectors and sinners came and sat down with Jesus and the disciples." Jesus knew exactly what he was doing, and the results of his actions. And the clergy never missed an opportunity to jab him with their sarcastic barbs. "Why does your teacher," they complained to the disciples, rather than directly to Jesus, "why does your teacher eat with tax collectors and sinners?" "How dare he fraternize with those who weren't the religious elite; those who were trapped, strapped, zapped in their old ways of life; those who were rejected, ostracized, segregated, shut off from all social contacts with the respected, the hoi polloi of society?"
Selective membership still haunts today's church. We want our kind in our church. Some suggest that keeping the church similar to ourselves is the only way to grow a congregation. We need different kinds of churches for people of different races, cultures, genders. We want fellow church members with whom we can feel comfortable, not ill-at-ease. One pastor spent months visiting, inviting some chicken farmers to worship. Finally, after dozens of invitations, they came. Dressed in their chicken-house overalls, they carried the aroma of manure into the sanctuary. They sat in the back row. No one spoke to them. Guess what? They never returned. We prefer to keep ourselves unsullied from the world, surrounded by our kind. We have made the church comfortable, respectable. And some go elsewhere if anyone invades their comfort zone.
If that's our agenda, we will hear from Jesus what the Pharisees heard. "Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick. Go and learn what this means, 'I desire mercy, not sacrifice.' For I have come to call not the righteous but sinners."
Jesus can minister only to those who recognize their need. He has no way of changing those who think that they have all of the answers, not only for themselves, but for everyone else. The most dangerous church members are those who require that everyone conform to their brand of Christianity, as they carefully select the Scriptures which "prove their point," and ignore those which contradict them and their beliefs. Be aware of the "biblical" debates in regard to abortion and homosexuality. For the extremists boldly claim what no Christian dare claim. "Kill the abortionists and homosexuals." This attitude led to the Inquisition and the Crusades. "Death to all who oppose God's will; I alone know God's will; I alone am righteous. Therefore, I am God's instrument of judgment."
Such an attitude infests and infects both persons and congregations. A 25-year-old church in Washington State had five permanent pastors. All of them left the church in crisis, and all of them left the pastoral ministry. Yet the leadership of the church continues to boast, "We have no problems here." The power structure even today continues to blame the pastors for all of the problems. Denial is a "wonderful" tool for effecting no change. In no way can the Spirit of Christ heal the "super righteous." However, the Scripture promises that those who refuse to "face the music" on their death day, will ask, "When did we see you hungry, thirsty, in prison, sick ... and not minister to you?"
Jesus' message is clear and direct, whether we hear it and respond to it or not. Either we learn to live with each other, beginning in our own homes and congregations, or we will die with each other. For God, in Christ, has called the ekklesia, the called out ones, to risk popularity, prestige, power to be and to do the mission. We can sit and moan in the makings of our own Egyptian slavery; or we can move out into the wilderness wanderings, having no idea what will happen next. We can be assured that, whatever happens, Christ has gone before, and Christ empowers us along our journey, no matter what the pain. For in Christ's presence, power, perseverance, we also experience his joy, his love, his victory! Amen!
I
The Scripture speaks plainly that Jesus, seeing Matthew sitting at the IRS office, said simply, "Follow me." And Matthew did. Who knows why? Maybe he identified with those who called Jesus "enemy"; for he,too, was enemy to many because of his vocation, often accompanied by graft and extortion. Or, perhaps Jesus had noticed Matthew hanging around on the fringes of the crowd, listening with growing interest to what the Master Teacher had to say about a God willing to forgive our sin, giving us a new chance in life; or about a God who insists that we will find greater joy in giving than in getting. Then again, perhaps Matthew had spoken with Jesus more than once; and Jesus knew that the tax collector was dissatisfied with the kind of life he was living, and that, now, the time had come for him to make a decision. Jesus surely saw the potential in Matthew and zeroed in on that potential.
One day, a long time ago, a sixteen-year-old boy was baptized and joined the church, not because he wanted to, but because his parents expected him to do so. Prior to that Sunday, he and his father hunted or fished almost every weekend. He had no joy sharing the new-found faith of his parents. In worship, Mother sat on one side of him, Father on the other, as he fumed. He did participate in the church's life, all of it, because he had no choice. At age eighteen, he still had no zeal to give up his atheism. One day, however, the pastor shocked him into a new thought. "Have you ever considered entering the seminary and the pastoral ministry?" The young man chuckled, sarcastically, to himself. "How could a nonbeliever become a pastor?" Nevertheless, for the next two years, that question haunted him. And then, after some life-changing experiences, he became a Christian, entered the seminary, and ultimately, the pastoral ministry.
The teenager's pastor saw something in his young parishioner that, in no way, could he, himself, begin to imagine. "How could a shy, fearful, didn't-know-what-to-say-when-someone-said-hello person possibly minister to others?" For forty years in the pastoral ministry, he did minister in exciting, energizing, and productive ways to all kinds of people.
Jesus saw in Matthew what no one else saw. Most had contempt for him and his tawdry profession. Jesus looked beyond the external appearances into Matthew's heart to discover a life waiting to blossom and flower. And so did that pastor looking at that frightened teenager.
`
We have a multitude of opportunities to speak the good news, not in some forced way, not through some evangelism program, not by some contrived denominational method. We play cards, go on picnics, attend ball games, visit across the backyard fence every day of our lives. And, in those relationships, people reveal themselves, their pain, their anxiety, their questions, their frustrations, as well as their joys, to us every day of their lives and ours. We needn't bludgeon them over the head, or embarrass them into silence, or ridicule them into the Kingdom. We do need to listen, not only, or even primarily, to their words, but to their feelings beneath the words; reflect those feelings, and then offer the invitation to experience new life. A filmstrip, produced by the Presbyterian Church years ago, has one of the characters say, "Your greatest witness is your deepest relationship of love." We change no one.We leave that to Christ's Spirit. We simply offer, and offer simply,
ourselves as "good-news sharers."
II
Today's text begins with Jesus' invitation to Matthew, "Follow me." That invitation opened the door to a multitude; for "many tax collectors and sinners came and sat down with Jesus and the disciples." Jesus knew exactly what he was doing, and the results of his actions. And the clergy never missed an opportunity to jab him with their sarcastic barbs. "Why does your teacher," they complained to the disciples, rather than directly to Jesus, "why does your teacher eat with tax collectors and sinners?" "How dare he fraternize with those who weren't the religious elite; those who were trapped, strapped, zapped in their old ways of life; those who were rejected, ostracized, segregated, shut off from all social contacts with the respected, the hoi polloi of society?"
Selective membership still haunts today's church. We want our kind in our church. Some suggest that keeping the church similar to ourselves is the only way to grow a congregation. We need different kinds of churches for people of different races, cultures, genders. We want fellow church members with whom we can feel comfortable, not ill-at-ease. One pastor spent months visiting, inviting some chicken farmers to worship. Finally, after dozens of invitations, they came. Dressed in their chicken-house overalls, they carried the aroma of manure into the sanctuary. They sat in the back row. No one spoke to them. Guess what? They never returned. We prefer to keep ourselves unsullied from the world, surrounded by our kind. We have made the church comfortable, respectable. And some go elsewhere if anyone invades their comfort zone.
If that's our agenda, we will hear from Jesus what the Pharisees heard. "Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick. Go and learn what this means, 'I desire mercy, not sacrifice.' For I have come to call not the righteous but sinners."
Jesus can minister only to those who recognize their need. He has no way of changing those who think that they have all of the answers, not only for themselves, but for everyone else. The most dangerous church members are those who require that everyone conform to their brand of Christianity, as they carefully select the Scriptures which "prove their point," and ignore those which contradict them and their beliefs. Be aware of the "biblical" debates in regard to abortion and homosexuality. For the extremists boldly claim what no Christian dare claim. "Kill the abortionists and homosexuals." This attitude led to the Inquisition and the Crusades. "Death to all who oppose God's will; I alone know God's will; I alone am righteous. Therefore, I am God's instrument of judgment."
Such an attitude infests and infects both persons and congregations. A 25-year-old church in Washington State had five permanent pastors. All of them left the church in crisis, and all of them left the pastoral ministry. Yet the leadership of the church continues to boast, "We have no problems here." The power structure even today continues to blame the pastors for all of the problems. Denial is a "wonderful" tool for effecting no change. In no way can the Spirit of Christ heal the "super righteous." However, the Scripture promises that those who refuse to "face the music" on their death day, will ask, "When did we see you hungry, thirsty, in prison, sick ... and not minister to you?"
Jesus' message is clear and direct, whether we hear it and respond to it or not. Either we learn to live with each other, beginning in our own homes and congregations, or we will die with each other. For God, in Christ, has called the ekklesia, the called out ones, to risk popularity, prestige, power to be and to do the mission. We can sit and moan in the makings of our own Egyptian slavery; or we can move out into the wilderness wanderings, having no idea what will happen next. We can be assured that, whatever happens, Christ has gone before, and Christ empowers us along our journey, no matter what the pain. For in Christ's presence, power, perseverance, we also experience his joy, his love, his victory! Amen!
