What does "Youth and Family" mean?

…And Family?

 

Over the past eight weeks, many people have told me how nice it is that I’m here. That it’s great that there will be someone for the youth here.

 

Now, I am very excited to work with the youth. I spent many summers at a Bible Camp before attending seminary, and on internship I discovered that the part of ministry that gave me the most energy was working with the youth there. The youth of Hope Lutheran are an amazing group of students I have had the privilege of getting to know through youth group and confirmation here at church. I am excited to work with them. However, my job description is a little broader than that.

 

I have been called to Hope Lutheran as the Associate Pastor focused on Youth and Family Ministry. Over the past few years, I’ve found that the term “Youth Pastor” is generally accepted and understood, but a "Youth and Family Minister" is a little more confusing.

 

Our concept of church is changing. It’s no longer just the time we gather for worship in a specific building, though that’s part of it. Church is the community of Christians living out faithful lives 24/7. Being church is something that permeates all of life—from home to work to worship—and it begins in the home.

 

From the time children can open their eyes, they are watching the world. They learn to talk, walk, and play from those immediately around them—their families. Parents, aunts, uncles, siblings, guardians, and grandparents are the first and most trusted teachers of young people. It is to these individuals that children, youth, and young adults will look to for guidance on what they should do and believe.

 

This is not a shirking of responsibility by any congregation or its employees and volunteers—it is simply reality. Faith begins in the home, and congregations are an extension of that. Pastors and volunteers cannot model faith or minister for you, but they can model and minister with you.

 

Does that mean that if you have no relatives in the area, this doesn’t apply to you? In no way. As it was said earlier, the church is an extension of family, and we are all part of that. Every person in the congregation has a connection to this community—and everyone in the community is connected to you as well.

 

That’s the “and family” part. It’s acknowledging the reality that everyone in a community is connected as church—that the adults teach, model faith, and learn from the youth just as the youth learn from, teach, and model faith to the adults. It’s acknowledging that youth are watching everyone to see how faith fits into life—not just the pastors. It’s working and ministering with one another to strengthen and deepen our collective faith. It’s realizing what a gift we have been given in our faith and community, and acting accordingly.

 

As a pastor called to be focused on youth and family ministry, my eye is on those programs and that philosophy. However, I can’t do this for you. It only works if I work with you—our shared efforts producing a greater result than either of us imagined. I am really excited to see what that looks like.

How do you say that I am?

This week's sermon is based on the Gospel Reading of the Revised Common Lectionary, Mark 8:27-38.

Every week, a group of people gather in this space to sing praise to, offer prayers to, read stories about, learn about, and worship this person called Jesus. Every week, we come together around word, water, bread and wine for this purpose.

But who is Jesus and why do we worship him?

 

This is the very question that is brought to us by today’s gospel: Who is Jesus? Who do we say that Jesus is?

 

We have many names for Jesus—you may have learned some of them in Sunday school, confirmation, parents' instructions, or church.

 

Jesus is the Son of God.

The Second Person of the Trinity.

The Savior of the World.

Emmanuel.

God with us.

 

Those are all great descriptions, but what does that mean, really? Who is Jesus?

 

Well, let’s start with Son of God. Jesus is in an unbreakable relationship with God the parent. That parent/child relationship that never can be erased. But Jesus’ connection is even deeper than that. Jesus is the Second Person of the Trinity. This Jesus is a part of God, equal to God, is God. Everything Jesus does in his lifetime on earth is in line with God because Jesus is one being with the Father and the Spirit—so in line with them because he is part of them. One being.

 

Jesus is God as human—Emmanuel—God with us. God speaks to us and walks with us in Jesus. As God with us, Jesus proclaims and lives a life of radical hospitality and inclusivity. Don’t believe me? Just ask some of the untouchable lepers Jesus spoke with and healed. Some of the children, women, poor, blind, widows, foreigners, strangers, sick and suffering people that society had written off. These are the people Jesus sought out, spoke with, loved, and healed. That’s our example. That’s God in the world.

 

Savior of the world. Jesus suffered and died on the cross and rose again three days later. He died for the sake of the world, so that we might be saved from the eternal consequences of sin—that is, death. Jesus loves the world and everyone in it. He died that we might have eternal life—Jesus himself tells Peter this is the plan in today’s lesson. Jesus is the Messiah sent to save the world from the hold that sin has on it.

 

So that’s who we say Jesus is.

How do we go about that?

 

Well, we have inherited some invaluable gifts as children of God to help us do that. 

 

Faith given to us by the Holy Spirit, who is God’s continued presence among us. This faith isn’t something we choose, but is a gift. We learn about it through the Word, most tangibly, the Bible. In the Scriptures, the story of God and God’s people from creation through Jesus to the early church are recorded for us to learn about and better understand our faith. We read from it every week so that we might grow and continue to be reminded of this story.

 

Two more things we are given: baptism and communion. These sacraments—these sacred traditions—are instituted by Jesus himself and promise us that God is with us.

 

In baptism, we gather around water and word to celebrate our unity with Jesus. We are assured that the Holy Spirit comes to us there not because of what we do, but because of what Jesus has done. Because of what God has done in us. Through baptism, we are joined to Christ and brought into the family of God as sisters and brothers.

 

Then there is communion--bread and wine. Common physical elements from daily life. Yet through this, we recall Jesus’ ultimate sacrifice for us, and we are again assured by Jesus that he is here, present in the bread and wine, forgiving our sin and calling us to lead lives like his.

 

And guess what? We can lead lives like that. We are assured through baptism that we are united with Christ and brought to eternal life. Through communion, we are assured of this and that we are forgiven of our sin. Freed from those worries, we can simply live in response to these gifts.

 

In worship, we gather around word, water, bread and wine. We receive God’s gifts—God’s word, the Holy Spirit’s presence, Christ’s body and blood. We are assured of our connection to Christ and one another, and of the promises given to us in word and sacrament.

 

We are freed from the burdens of sin and given eternal life. We can go into the world, knowing—knowing­—that we don’t have anything to earn where God is concerned.

 

We are free to live a life like we have been saved and given gifts too great to keep to ourselves. We are free to live like Jesus—imitating the radical hospitality he showed to so many, including ourselves. We are free to respond to God’s call in our lives.

Clean or Unclean?

This sermon is based on the lectionary readings for Sept. 2, 2012: Mark 7:1-8, 14-15, 21-23 and James 1:17-27.

All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players; they have their exits and entrances, and one person in their time plays many parts.

 

I tend to think Shakespeare got that one right. The whole world as one big stage and all of us people in it just play-acting. Putting on a show for this situation or that one. Making sure we got it right. This motion here, that topic there. There are situations pre-scripted for us and ones we improvise. This mask here, that one there. This hat or that one depending on your role in this scene. Teacher, parent, child, student, adult, doctor, worker, servant. If you do this, you’re part of this group, if you do something else, you’re part of that group.

 

Today’s Gospel talks about the pre-scripted versions of religion—specifically the ones that decide if you’re part of this group or that one. The Pharisees, seeing the disciples and knowing that Jesus and his followers are Jewish, remind them of their customs. Wash your hands before you eat. Keep that which is common away from yourselves, that you may be more holy.

 

What are they talking about? I suppose to understand this play we should discuss the setting...

 

In this case, tradition dictated that to be clean one must wash. Makes sense. This wasn’t a functional thing, though, with soap and water to get rid of the dirt and germs. It was ceremonial. A bit of water cleansed you so that whatever you put in your mouth would also be ritually clean and you would stay pure. That was the sort of washing the Pharisees were talking about. The disciples, however, are eating without that water on their hands.

 

So, the Pharisees point it out. The disciples are not adhering to the social code handed down from past generations. Time-honored tradition, the way it’s always been. One little condition. It’s really not even that much of an inconvenience, really. A little water, a few moments, and we’re all fine again.

 

How often do we do that? Need people to do things our way? The way it’s always been? The way it was last year? How easily to we react to correct those who do something differently than we do?

 

Well, Jesus has something to say about that. And guess what? It’s NOT that tradition is bad. Jesus doesn’t say that at all.

 

What Jesus says is this: we’re not playacting. Not here.

 

It’s not about the masks you put on to fit into this or that group. It’s time to take off the masks—in this case, of tradition—and look at the character motivation underneath it. Hear again the words Jesus uses: hypocrite, intentions. This is about motivation. This is about meaning.

 

It’s not about the right lines or the right gestures, it’s about motivation. It’s about what’s behind those lines and actions. Is it that desire to remind ourselves of God and God’s presence among us in our lives or is it about making sure everyone else follows our rules? Goes through the motions? Keeps everything the way it’s always been? It doesn’t have to be just about tradition, either. We could also ask whether we’re making changes something just for the sake of drawing new lines.

 

As the reading from James says, those who go through the motions and forget about living God’s word and presence are like people who look in a mirror and then forget what they look like—Maybe they do put on a mask and then forget what they are reflecting.

 

Well, today Jesus reminds us.

 

It’s not about the masks we put on. It’s not about projecting a particular front or putting on a certain manner or routine. It’s about having integrity. It’s about knowing what we’re reflecting, who we’re reflecting, and showing that by what comes from inside us.

 

What does come from inside us? Things go through us and are placed on us from the outside, yes, but what comes from within? Most tangibly, our words and our actions. Jesus reminds us that these need to be meaningful—we need to understand what we do and why we do it. Our words and actions should never be empty gestures. We are called to live with a bit more integrity than that.

 

Now, does that mean that we forget tradition? Of course not. Tradition connects us to centuries of faithful generations, and many of the traditions are designed to reinforce our relationship with God. That’s really important. But just like change for change’s sake doesn’t make sense, tradition for tradition’s sake doesn’t make sense anymore, either. Putting conditions on God’s unconditional love doesn’t make sense. That’s when it becomes a mask and we need to look beneath it to see what’s there.

 

This isn’t a place for masks. It’s a place for meaning—for reflecting the light of Christ within us. How each person does that is going to look different because we’re all different people. But we work to live with integrity—here in this building and outside of these walls. This part of our lives—this Christ within us—permeates every part of our character and affects what we do here and everywhere else.

 

So we are challenged this week—when we speak, when we walk out to the world around us—what comes out of us from within? What are those things that we say and do, and why do we do them? What is our motivation in each case?

 

You don’t have to have a microphone and a room of people to do this. Habits build. Whatever you say or do will slowly influence your attitude and later words and actions. Whether we work to make others fit into our conditions, or reach out to show God’s unconditional love to more of God’s world, it’s important to notice what we do or say and why we do that.

 

I can assure you that at some point, something you say or do will be noticed by someone you don’t expect. Whether a kid, co-worker, complete stranger at the gas station, whatever, someone will see what we do and infer from that who we are and who is reflected in us—good or bad.

 

So, if “All the world’s a stage,” we need to figure out our character motivation. Because it’s not about the mask, the costume, or the makeup. We’re on an improvisational stretch here, and before the curtain goes up, we need to know what’s beneath our character’s surface in order to know what our character will do.

 

If we start from the inside, the outside will naturally follow.

Jesus Calls the Disciples

The sermon this week is based on the story of the calling of the disciples in Luke as paraphrased by the Spark Bible.

 

The Dominion of God

 

The Dominion of God. What does that look like? Visions of lambs and lions getting along… Seeing old relatives, friends… being perfectly happy…

 

Maybe that’s what we think of when we think of heaven. How about now? Who makes up that dominion? People? Christians? Us? Those called by God? Those called by Jesus? What does all that look like?

 

Well, today we get a glimpse. Jesus calls Simon/Peter, Andrew, James, and John. These are the rock stars of the gospel. These are the guys who were at the last supper—good grief, Peter and John MADE the Last Supper! James and John and Peter witnessed the transfiguration—we’ll see that in January, when Moses and Elijah show up as well. They voice the questions we ourselves might often ask. They ask Jesus these things and we get to hear the recorded answers.

 

Can you imagine being able to talk with them for just five minutes?!

 

What’s Jesus like? What food did he eat? They know the untold story—the little things you only get from actually being there. Did he stop when he got a pebble in his sandal? How did you all handle days that were too warm to travel? Were there any favorite stories on those walks from town to town.

 

You know, I’d even be interested in talking to people who worked with them. How did Simon, Andrew, James and John run off like that? What was it about them that was different? Was there anything? Were they just normal fishermen, like you?

 

That’s it, too. They were normal, everyday fishermen. They hadn’t even been good fishermen that day—they hadn’t caught a thing until Jesus showed up. Fishermen—not as a hobby, but as a career. These are not lawyers, doctors, teachers who fish in their spare time. These are fishers who live on their boats all day—pulling in nets, fixing them, following the harvest wherever it goes. Covered in scales, surrounded by seawater and sun, with that fish smell ground into their skin—deeper than any soap can reach.

 

These are the people Jesus calls. These are the people that I—and I imagine some of you—would me most interested in talking with. That we would hope would give us just a few minutes of their time. 

 

Then there’s Matthew—a person who, just by the nature of his job, would be stereotyped as a crook. Tax collectors were reputed to skim a bit of the taxes off the top for their own pockets. Now, we don’t know if Matthew was one of those people—like any stereotype, it doesn’t apply to everyone. Jesus sees past the job and even the stereotype here. He calls Matthew, and this tax collector becomes one of his closest pupils. Again, the last supper, the miracles, the first-hand witness to Jesus’ teachings and answers to questions. What would we give for five minutes with someone like him?

 

Then there are the women! Where will this end? Women were worse than tax collectors in terms of social status. They were second-class citizens. That’s not too difficult for me to imagine. I’ve certainly encountered enough gender assumptions to last me a lifetime--

 

And that's in the 21st Century in the United States of America. 

This story takes place in 1st Century Israel.

 

Again, Jesus works with these individuals—these people—sees them for who they are. Not women and tax collectors and fishers, but as Simon/Peter, as Andrew, as James, as John, as Matthew, as Mary Magdalene, as Joanna, as Susanna, as Philip, as Bartholomew, as Thomas, as James, as Thaddeus, as Simon, as Judas.

 

We acknowledge that we’re called, too. We’re called from wherever we are—by name, as the disciples were. Baptized by that name. Joined to God’s family, and sent—sent to serve God’s world. Sent to learn from and work with one another, as the disciples were.

 

And what or who are we sent to work with? How about fishers? How about tax collectors? How about people like Joanna and James and Matthew—who are more than the stereotypes would let us believe. AND these are not people we would reach out to, to help or pity, but people we would seek out, hoping they’ll talk to us, hoping they’ll teach us, hoping they will give us just a few minutes of insight. This is what God’s family looks like—this is what the group of Jesus’ followers looks like--from the beginning.

 

We’re sent out into the world—and there’s no way we can do this alone. Did you notice? Even Peter and Andrew had to ask James and John for help with the nets of fish. There is quite literally a boatload of work to do. Too much for us to get caught up in labeling people by the group they belong to. We have to get beyond that.

 

We are called by name—each of us. Each of us called to follow Jesus. Each of us privileged to be able to respond and to walk the path of discipleship, with Jesus, with each other, with God’s people everywhere. Amen.

Sermon #2--Daniel and the Lions' Den

Here's the second sermon preached on Daniel 6:1-28. The space this was preached in has a projector and screen, so I've inserted a few images here as well. (All images displayed are public domain or original photos).

Daniel. A den of lions. Lions. That’s something pretty scary. Or at least, we think so…but how on earth does a den of lions compute in our minds here in Wautoma, Wisconsin? I tell you, it’s not the easiest thing. My first thought was that most of us have probably seen lions like this...

Kids programs, movies, characters in a story…I mean, who hasn’t seen or heard of the Lion King?

But we’re trying to get more real…okay. Wild. How about this? 

Aww. For cute! I kind of want to go pick this little kitty up and play with it. I could handle that.

In reality, most of us—if we’ve seen a lion at all in real life—have seen it this way

Real lions, no doubt, and maybe dangerous, but removed by barbed wire or maybe electric fencing and a pit or some other expanse that keeps us—and them—at a safe distance.

That’s not too helpful either. In each of these situations, the threat just doesn’t compute. We’re not in danger, the lions are cute or caged or cartoons. We’re safe. We’re too removed. These aren’t in-your-face threats that can tear you apart before you blink.

Now we’re getting somewhere. I actually don’t really want to turn around and look at that one. Jaws ready to snap those razor sharp teeth; muscles tense, preparing to pounce; eyes staring you down in a look that says ‘You. Are. My. Next. Meal.’

Now we’re getting somewhere. Now we kind of get it. What Daniel was facing by being faithful to God. Danger. Consequences. Giving up our personal interests to follow God. Going way outside of our comfort zone.

What does that look like in real life? Stepping beyond our comfort zone? Putting aside our personal interests? Giving up part of our life for God?

Last week, the youth group from here traveled to Cass Lake, Minnesota. [5-Early Morning] They got up early—early enough to be here by 6am. They met some people they didn’t know—two leaders that brought them to a place they’d never been to meet more people they didn’t know. They took care of strangers’ kids, painted for days, and kept going. Even when they were tired and worn out, they pushed their own fatigue aside to bring the last bit of their energy out and give the community around them one more smile.

Outside of the comfort zone. Imagine yourselves doing that. Painting for days, meeting and playing with other people’s children—maybe people you wouldn’t approve of—and treating them like precious children of God. Giving them the last of your energy to keep a smile on their faces for one more hour. It’s not easy.

Of course, this was a mission trip, so that was the point. The point was to challenge and push yourself to do something for someone else. Here’s the flip side, though. In doing this, the youth also made connections, they met new friends that they got to know throughout the week, they laughed with the members of the community in Cass Lake, they made memories, they lived out lives as followers of Christ.  There was so much that happened beyond the simple pictures and stories even. These eight youth grew into the community they served, they dove in and followed as disciples of Christ. 

People asked me if I survived this trip when I returned. People—not just one person. Because it would be outside of my comfort zone. Because I would be the only adult from the congregation going. Because I hadn’t met any of the youth. Because this would take a lot of energy—maybe more than I had. It was a concern for those who asked me, I’m sure, and I appreciate the consideration. My response, though?

Survive—it was amazing! It was amazing to be able to invest in these young people, amazing to see them connecting with the community, with their faith. Amazing. Just from watching these things, you could easily tell that God was with us all that week. God was with us, and amazing things happened.

And now we’re back. That’s an awesome story, just as Daniel and the Lions is an awesome story. But now we face the same problem we did when we started. How does that look in our minds in Wautoma, Wisconsin? What does that mean for us? These youth stepped out to serve for a week on a Reservation in Minnesota, but how do we translate that to here?

I think…no I imagine…no I hope. Yes, I hope that it means we are encouraged to live faithfully in all we do. That we can know that God is with us always. I hope it means that we hear these stories and start to look for those places we’ve set barriers in our lives. Places where we know something is the right thing to do—we maybe see a ton of potential in some project or service—but we hold back. I hope we see those places and recognize that there is nothing to fear there. Because God is with us.

This church has already stepped out in several ways, from calling new staff to sending youth on mission trips to confirmation camp to Relay4Life this weekend to many other things supported here. Those are things to be excited about. Those are things to be remembered and rejoiced in. Those are things to tell the world. God is with all of us, and we get to step out and act like it.

I am excited to see what the next adventures bring. I am excited to see how Hope Lutheran inspires the community around it outside of these walls through the lives of the people who gather here each week. I am excited to see how God works through each and every one of you to serve God’s world and God’s people. God is with you. Go do something amazing.

Sermon August 2

Hello again. So, for my first weekend preaching at my first call as a pastor, I decided to try and write two sermons--one for Thursday night and the other for Sunday morning. The first is posted below, and is based on the Spark Story Bible version of Daniel in the Lions' Den.

Darius was tricked. Daniel was trapped.

That’s what our story says. Daniel was the King Darius’ advisor. He was doing well at his job—too well, actually. His fellow advisors—his co-workers—decide that something needs to be done. They have to get him fired. The problem is, he isn’t doing anything wrong…so they devise a plan. They go to the king as a single group. United as one unit, they suggest that the king pass a law…people must rely on him and him alone for everything.

Darius was tricked. Daniel was trapped.

The punishment for asking God for anything is being tossed into a den of lions. Daniel doesn’t change what he does, though, and the other advisors go back to the king. They ask about the law. “Remind me about this law from last week. Is it absolute? Was the punishment being tossed into the den of lions?

The king confirms everything to them. Then they reveal that Daniel—the king’s top trusted advisor—is the one who must suffer the punishment.

Darius was tricked. Daniel was trapped.

Close your eyes. Imagine for a second a den of lions. What do you see? Is it cozy? Furry, fluffy overgrown cats? Do you picture Aslan? Mufasa and Simba? Some other illustration? I mean who hasn’t seen at least pictures of The Lion King or Narnia or the Wizard of Oz? I’d want to be around any of those characters. Sign me up for that. They’re funny and friendly, right?

These aren’t cartoons, though. They’re not stage characters. These lions are beasts. Killers by nature who hunt for their food daily. Their claws are sharp knives meant for tearing; their teeth are long, pointed, fanglike spikes that drip with hunger. Their muscles powerful enough to pull a body apart with one strike. These are the lions that wait in the den.

Darius was tricked. Daniel was trapped.

There are many people we could probably relate to in this story. Daniel is the obvious one. We can probably look around us from day to day and see the obstacles that threaten to shake us from doing what is right. The people, the social conventions, the risks that stand in our way of doing something we know needs to be done. It might seem easy for us to think that Daniel could’ve just skipped a few prayer days. I mean, he wouldn’t get thrown to the lions, and who would really notice? But it wouldn’t be right.

We can look to Daniel for inspiration. When it seems like talking to a certain person, supporting a particular cause, inviting another person to church would get us weird looks from the neighbors, we can think of Daniel and his faithfulness. The king certainly admired him. We might think for a minute that we, too, will be respected by the kings—the Dariuses—in our lives. Our bosses, friends, spouses, children, etc. But we also have to be aware that there are more than Dariuses in the world.

And...Darius was tricked. And Daniel was trapped.

Then there’s Darius. The king. The boss. The administrator. We can think of those situations where we’re in charge of people or projects. Maybe for you that’s your role at work, your life as a parent, your position as chair of this or that committee in the community here at church. Now, all the people that work for or with you call you to a meeting where pretty much all of them are there. They go on and on about how great you are, what a wonderful job you do.

Wow, does that feel good. You have worked hard, after all. Then they come up with this idea that will improve communications and make you and all the people you’re in charge of more efficient. Awesome! Everyone is working together, finally, and they see the work you do, too. So you agree without really examining the idea.

Darius was tricked. Daniel was trapped.

We will make mistakes like that. My point here is that we can understand where Darius and Daniel got stuck. Here’s the twist in the story—it works out for both of them. Even with the advisors conspiring against them, good wins out and God’s plan is still served. Despite the obstacles and evil in the world.

God’s plan keeps developing. God’s plan is working through the sorrow, fear, and struggles going on. Darius, who up until now had just tolerated Daniel’s faith—comes to share it, and believes in God. Wow. But we can’t forget the lead up to it.

Darius was tricked. Daniel was trapped.

The advisors. The tricksters. What about them? They see Daniel getting promoted ahead of them, even though he’s the new guy. The stranger in town. He’s doing good—too good. This needs to stop. They should be getting those benefits, that favor. Jealousy takes root and they move to destroy him.

Now, I have to admit, I understand this, too. Having a slightly competitive streak—especially when I was in high school (music competitions were the worst)—I know that need to be the best, and I’ve worked pretty hard since then to rid myself of that. It still flares up from time to time, though. Can you find it in yourself, too? That project that you just want to go well…that you want credit for…that you want to be recognized for?

What do you do when you notice those feelings?

Darius was tricked. Daniel was trapped.

Thinking like that is perhaps human nature. We are both sinners and saints, after all. There are times we will be immeasurably good, and there are times we will fail. Jealousy, however, is ultimately self-destructive for the tricksters in our tale. We see that in the verses after this story. The tricksters are thrown to the lions, and they don’t make it. They allowed their jealousy to consume them, and it ultimately does—it consumes them. It destroys them. If there’s anyone to avoid being like in this story, it’s these other advisors.

The advisors tricked Darius. The advisors trapped Daniel.

Again, there will be tricksters in our lives. We may even be tempted to be that sometimes. The point is to not give in to that destructive side, and to know that if we become like Darius or Daniel—if we do get tricked or trapped—God is with us. God is still working through us. No matter how bad it gets, God never abandons us.

God is watching us. God is with us.

God is holding us in the palm of God’s hand.

That’s the promise we hear here. As for our response, there’s a theme running through this, if you can’t tell.

We have a caution in this story, yes, to not be destructive—it huts us and it hurts others—but we also have assurance. We can live doing what is right. We only need worry about that, our own actions. After all, we can only control that—our own actions, not what others do. So that’s what we worry about, not about the many imagined shadows that might not approve. We do what we do. Praise God. Live faithful lives.

God is watching us. God is with us.

God is holding us in the palm of God’s hand. Amen.

Sermon June 10

This last Sunday's sermon was based on the semi-continuous reading from 1 Samuel 8, which can be found here.

“The only thing we have to fear is fear itself.”

By now, that phrase is well known throughout the country. It probably sounds cliché to some of you. You’ve heard it so many times that it has lost most of its meaning—or, you assume that everyone understands the meaning that you do.

Do any of you remember the first time you heard that phrase? Maybe some of you do recall FDR’s presidential address, or heard it in a classroom in elementary school. I remember exactly how I first learned of it…I read it in these old books we used to have in the house. Little books about famous people in history.

“The only thing we have to fear is fear itself.”

I can remember sitting in the living room and being both comforted and confused by this odd little phrase. At the time, I thought it meant I had no reason to be scared of spiders, ticks, and monsters in the dark. All I should be afraid of was being afraid.

Well, that was just ridiculous to my mind. I wasn’t scared of being scared. I was scared of ticks and spiders and monsters. Of not being liked by my classmates, having no friends when my family moved, and heights—heights. I still get a little lightheaded when I am on a ladder or roof somewhere.

I invite you to think of one or two things that you’re afraid of right now. And these may not be things, exactly. For you it might be something bigger. Like whether or not the crop will give a high enough yield this year, what happens if a certain measure passes on Tuesday—or doesn’t pass on Tuesday. If your job is safe, if you are safe. I’m guessing—well you can probably tell by my guesses here—that you’re probably not most scared of being scared.

The Israelites aren’t scared of being scared, either. They are scared that their future is in jeopardy. Up until now, they’ve lived with judges who would make rulings on cases. But Samuel’s heirs—heirs to the judgeship—don’t seem so good to them. The people are concerned about what will happen should these men succeed in gaining their positions as judges. It’s a political situation without much of a solution.

Israel says “wait a minute,” though. They see that countries around them have set up kingships. Israel sees this, and decides that they want what these other countries have. It’s a way out of their situation, and let’s face it, kings have power in the global sphere. Power would mean safety, if it’s on your side. Power can mean fear and destruction if it’s mounting against you on all sides like it is for Israel.

So Israel asks God to set up a monarchy. Well, ask is sort of sugar-coating it. They demand a monarchy. In the midst of God’s unfolding plan, Israel says “I don’t think so. Not like this. This isn’t us.”

They see a changing world around them, and they reject and run from the order God set up in favor of the systems of the countries around them. Samuel warns them against this, but they push through him, stubbornly moving forward.

At this point, we may be thinking that Israel acts foolishly and are setting up ways in our minds that we’re not like that. That’s usually what I do at this point of a sermon—I hear about all these characters making mistakes and I start thinking of all the ways they’re different from me. We may be able to identify with political concerns, economic concerns, and the like, but we’re different, right? We’re not radically changing the system to fit in. And it’s not like God directly set up a particular system for us and we rejected it.

Here’s the thing, though. Our fears might have been different from Israel’s, and we might have different specific reactions to our situations—Israel changes, we stay the same. But we are not so different because we both have to face how our fears affect what we do.

How does fear affect what we do? When I’m afraid, I work at blending in—disappearing so that no one will notice. I suspect that we all do that to some degree. We just go along with what everyone else is doing—conform to the systems around us for fear of being different.

For the most part, that really works. It’s extremely easy to play into a system rather than do anything to change it. When fear has us, we become ruled by the unknown—the imagined consequences of doing this or that. Of being seen as different when we want to be accepted like everyone else.

Then we are exactly like the Israelites in this story. Just like us, they do not want to be different anymore. The time has come when they’re unsure about what the next generation will do If they’re on the same level as the countries surrounding them, that ensures a future like theirs. Israel is acting based on that desire. To be different would be to face a future unlike any of the countries around them—to trust the generation to come.

Two things: First, God says, “okay.” There is free will in humanity to walk as they will. Israel gets their king. God stays and works through the fear and the actions we take and the mistakes we make. If there is a missed opportunity, God doesn’t leave us. God doesn’t leave us for making choices, being scared, or anything really. God gives us free will and stays with us through that.

Second thing: God has something else planned, though. Something better. Israel was supposed to be a light to the nations—a stand out country and community guided and ruled by God. Instead, they assimilate by setting up a system for themselves that’s just like every other nation—they became ordinary. There was something better there to live into, and there might be for us, too. There is a bigger vision here than humanly established systems. A vision of the world where God reigns supreme.

We often act in fear—fear of change, fear of what others will think, fear of people different from us. We fear that, so we act in ways to prevent these frightening possibilities. We act for status quo rather than a new beginning, for being liked rather than respected, for being the same rather than standing out.

As it turns out, fear is actually something to really be scared of. It makes us act in ways we wouldn’t act if we weren’t afraid.

Sometimes I wonder what if …what if we were inspired rather than scared?

Hopeful rather than fearful?

Brave rather than frightened?

Thought about working for what we did want to happen instead of preventing what we didn’t?

Lived into the vision of the Dominion of God rather than cowered in fear over the consequences of changing the way things are?

Stood up for what is right rather than feared what might be wrong?

That really turns everything around, doesn’t it? Hopeful, brave, inspired acts. What would those actions look like? I imagine it would begin to look a bit like that vision of the Dominion of God, where people simply act for each other—live in community, share with one another, care for each other. And you know what? That world already exists—right here, right now. We do act that way and we get to see what that world is like from time to time.

What if we cultivated that? We are creatures of habit, after all. What if we used that to our advantage? Started small, with easy things—climbing ladders and towers on our own, reaching outside of our usual circle to include and be included by others, talking to our neighbors. What if we got away from the fear and worked to act in faith, trust, and love more often?

As I said, we already do that from time to time, and when we do that, we’re moving toward something like the Dominion of God. When we do that, we’re living as a people of hope.