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“Simple Gifts” Sunday, May 9, 2010
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Matthew 16:13-20
13 Now when Jesus came into the district of Caesarea Philippi, he asked his disciples, "Who do people say that the Son of Man is?" 14 And they said, "Some say John the Baptist, but others Elijah, and still others Jeremiah or one of the prophets." 15 He said to them, "But who do you say that I am?" 16 Simon Peter answered, "You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God." 17 And Jesus answered him, "Blessed are you, Simon son of Jonah! For flesh and blood has not revealed this to you, but my Father in heaven. 18 And I tell you, you are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church, and the gates of Hades will not prevail against it. 19 I will give you the keys of the kingdom of heaven, and whatever you bind on earth will be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth will be loosed in heaven." 20 Then he sternly ordered the disciples not to tell anyone that he was the Messiah.
Romans 12:1-8
1 I appeal to you therefore, brothers and sisters, by the mercies of God, to present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which is your spiritual worship. 2 Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your minds, so that you may discern what is the will of God-- what is good and acceptable and perfect. 3 For by the grace given to me I say to everyone among you not to think of yourself more highly than you ought to think, but to think with sober judgment, each according to the measure of faith that God has assigned. 4 For as in one body we have many members, and not all the members have the same function, 5 so we, who are many, are one body in Christ, and individually we are members one of another. 6 We have gifts that differ according to the grace given to us: prophecy, in proportion to faith; 7 ministry, in ministering; the teacher, in teaching; 8 the exhorter, in exhortation; the giver, in generosity; the leader, in diligence; the compassionate, in cheerfulness. Simple Gifts
Wow. Since the first time I snuck into this pulpit way back in January I’ve been thinking about what this moment would be like and all I can say is “Wow”. This is the third time I’ve done this, delivering my first sermon in a new pulpit, and I can honestly say that so far this has been the best experience. At the church in Virginia I was too naïve and inexperienced to understand the significance. In Charlotte I was just the senior associate taking my monthly turn. But here there is a special spirit about this moment. You and I have been praying for this moment for a long time. If I am to understand the stories I’ve heard, this congregation has been through the wringer, has confronted some ugly truths, and has come out on the other side with a more focused vision of what God is intending for this community. So what do I say to you on this first Sunday together as we embark on this faith journey together? Do I tell you of my hopes and dreams for our life together? Do I exhort you to exhibit greater levels of faithfulness as we seek to discern God’s will for Central Church’s witness to the Russellville community? Any number of sermons on those themes would be appropriate for a first Sunday and the truth is many of them have been preached on just such occasions. But this morning I think there is a better use of the time you have given me the privilege of filling. Martin Copenhaver and Lillian Daniel have recently co-authored a collection of essays on the lives of pastors titled This Odd and Wonderful Calling. In his essay “Shaking Hands,” Martin writes about the sermon he delivered on his last day in the pulpit at one of his previous churches. He did something unique for someone trained in the Reformed tradition in that he gave a testimonial instead of the usual exposition of the given lectionary text for that day. On that particular Sunday, he spoke to the congregation he had served for many years about what the presence of Christ had meant in his life. As he was greeting everyone after the service the matriarch of the church came up to him with tears in her eyes and asked a simple question, “why didn’t you tell us that before.” It was a sermon he admitted to could have spoken just as authentically if repeated the next week. I don’t want that to be my legacy here. I don’t want you all to be sitting here on my last Sunday wondering why I hadn’t ever said the things that Martin said on that particular Sunday. So as much as this will annoy Carol Miles, my preaching professor, who would curl up into a ball and start rocking when my Methodist classmates would give their testimonials instead of preaching a sermon, here it goes. The congregation in California with whom she is worshipping this morning will just have to forgive the rocking in the pews this morning. The sanctuary of Stevenson Memorial United Methodist Church was my nursery. The swing set, teeter-totter, and sandbox behind the church was my personal playground. From an early age, I was at the church when the place was packed full of people and when the sounds that accompanied my playful chatter were those that signified an old building with a vermin infestation. Such is the life of the child of a child of a pastor in the Deep South Bible Belt. I don’t remember a moment in my life when I wasn’t being regaled with stories of heroes and villains with strange names like Jehu and Jezebel. I don’t remember a time when the sights and the smells, the sounds and the touch of the church didn’t quicken my pulse just a bit. I don’t remember a time when the name Jesus of Nazareth was far from my hearing. Many things that people all over the globe rightly treasure and desire, I took for granted. Of course Jesus loves me, the Bible and my family both clan and church told me so. Of course I knew what I’m doing on Sunday morning. In Sunday school with Mrs. Johnson I was going to make a mosaic of Jesus out of pasta, glue, paint, and glitter. I was going to squirm in the pew while Granddad went on and on about how God loves us enough to send the Son. I was going to smile until my cheeks hurt while the family greeted all the members of the church after worship. And then we all went to Red Lobster and I had popcorn shrimp. The summers of my early years where planned around several vacation Bible schools and the odd trip to a beach house that some parishioner let us borrow. As a teenager I went through confirmation led by the tragically old and uncool DCE Ms. Mona she of the wizened ripe old age of 27. She taught us about the mysteries of bread and wine, of water and Spirit. She got us out of the shelter of our suburban church world and shocked us with “rock and roll Jesus”, kneelers and incense, yarmulkes and Seders. She convinced the pastor, Dr. Roy Watkins, to let the youth help with worship on Sunday mornings. I really should have remembered to take my retainer out before trying to lead the congregation in the Apostles’ Creed that first Sunday. As I grew older, I like so many of our young people today drifted away from the church as I began to experience the freedom of young adulthood. Sunday mornings were for sleeping in and sleeping off the previous night’s excesses. Questions of faith were not unwelcomed they were just unnecessary. I was a Christian and a Presbyterian, although my words and my actions didn’t always proclaim that. However, when I matured and the questions of faith became necessary there was the kind friend who spoke in excited tones about Westminster Presbyterian Church where he was an elder and invited me to join him on Sunday morning. This community of faith saw something in me that I couldn’t see in myself. The DCE, Jennifer Rhodes, asked me to consider taking on the mantle of youth director. The clerk of Session told me that I should consider seminary education because the church needed more pastors who smile. Mrs. Lula Mae Jowers held my hand and asked me to pray with her when eldest son died in a tragic boating accident. The youth of the church honored Maggie and me by ushering at our wedding and hosting our reception. Our church family surrounded us with their love and prayers as we packed up our belongings and travelled to parts unknown in the wilds of Austin, Texas. My path hasn’t been all that different than the one many of you have experienced in your faith journeys. It has its ups and downs, moments of great dedication and of lesser transgressions. I like so many of you have experienced great joy and much sorrow. I am like you just a disciple striving to serve a little more faithfully day by day. I have strengths and weakness, I am human after all. What sets me apart is how I use the gifts that God has given me in a special vocation. In his letter to the Romans Paul is asking the community to remember who they are and why they are. First and foremost we are a people of faith redeemed by the love of Christ. This love is transformational. It challenges us to live a life that is different from the one that is offered by the society and culture around us. Christ’s love calls us to change our way of thinking about the world, to not buy into the images presented by our modern media, to live for the other not for ourselves. Christ’s love calls us to strengthen and use the gifts God has given us to raise up those in need to act as one body for the good of others, to be Christ’s presence in this world in the here and the now. If you weren’t able to attend worship atop Nebo last Sunday, you missed quite a treat. I’m not sure I can adequately express how impressed I am with the young people of this church. It is my loss that I haven’t been able to know them sooner and witness their growth as disciples. I was especially moved by their expressions of gratitude to the people who have guided and nurtured them thus far in their faith journeys. Time and again I heard the names of Sunday school teachers, youth directors, family members, and friends who showed them what it means to live as Jesus intends for all of us to live. What I am glad I didn’t hear over and over again was the names of former pastors. I think and please correct me if I’m wrong but only once was a pastor even mentioned. I believe Jonathon thanked Pastor Ken in a long list of other people. This is the way it’s supposed to be. When Jesus handed the keys to Simon Peter and declared him the rock, he didn’t say that Peter was the next messiah. There were eleven other disciples there to carry on the work that Jesus was leaving for them. They each had different gifts and skills. They each had strengths and weaknesses. They were going to have to be there for one another to lend helping hands when one or another stumbled. Judas betrayed. Peter denied. Thomas doubted. And yet here we are some two thousand years later and the body of Christ is still living, breathing, and growing. Like Jesus you have handed me the keys to this place and have entrusted me with the care and nurture of the flock. It is easy for that kind of trust to go to one’s head. I know the expectations will be high around here. The new young guy with the beautiful family has arrived and we just need to get ready to watch the pews fill. And I will admit those expectations are quite flattering and boost the ego, but as I sat there on the side of I-40 last Saturday watching the river run across the interstate having a shouting match with God about parting the waters and letting me get going (okay a temper tantrum as I was the only one yelling), I realized I’m not Moses come to set the people free. I’m not the Messiah come to redeem the people. I’m Brian, your pastor and hopefully your friend. I will teach and preach the gospel. I will provide administrative guidance to the Session and Diaconate. I will hold your hands and pray with you. I will laugh with you in times of joy, and I will cry in times of sorrow. I cannot save you. I cannot make this place grow and be what I believe it can be. I cannot wave a magic wand and heal all the wounds of the past. All I can do is be faithful and believe that the promises of God as fulfilled in Jesus Christ are true, and I can help you use your gifts for the building up of the body. We are not in this alone. We have one another in this adventure. We are bound together by the love we find at font and at table. We are surrounded by a great cloud of witnesses upon whose shoulders we stand. And most importantly we have the presence of Jesus who promised that nothing in life or death could separate us from his love. In Martin Copenhaver’s sermon “What It’s All About” which I referenced earlier and he delivered on his last day in the pulpit he writes, I want to tell you what Jesus means to me. I want to share my belief that everything depends on him. I want to urge you to learn from him. I want to assure you that you can lean on him in times of trouble. I want to ask you to listen to his words of challenge. I want to tell you that I believe that you can entrust your life to him. I want to affirm that he is Lord of this church, and that in his name you are freed to love one another and empowered to share that love with a hurting world. I want to profess that, though once people could not look at the face of God and live, now we are invited to look at the face of God in him, in Jesus, and live as we have never lived before. He is Emmanuel, God with us, God with us all, whether we are together or apart. That’s what it’s all about.
That is what it’s all about, being together, being one bound by the love of Christ. It’s about being grateful for what we have been given and living boldly expressing Christ’s love to one another and to the other we are just beginning to meet. It’s about using the simple gifts God has given us to be the presence of Christ in the world. It’s about living in love and being disciples of the One who has made this day. Let us rejoice and be glad in that. In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen. |