Fear Not

Scripture Lessons: Isaiah 9: 2-7 and Luke 2: 1-20 Sermon Title: Fear Not Preached on December 24, 2020 The Scripture Lesson I just read from the Gospel of Luke is the same one read by Linus in the Peanuts Christmas Special. It’s a well-known passage, featuring those mainstays of every nativity scene, the shepherds, who answered the call from the angels to go and see this thing that God had done on that very first Christmas so long ago. I wonder if they left their flocks behind or brought them. Does that sound like a good question? It might sound too fanciful or beside the point, as our questions often are. In the comics last Sunday, the mom in the Family Circus was trying to tell the Christmas story but couldn’t for all the kids who were asking: who wrote this story? Should Joseph have called sooner to get a reservation at the Inn? Why didn’t the Wise Men bring baby Jesus some better presents? I don’t mean to get in the way of the story with this question, but truly, I do think about the flocks, and I bet they left them because hearing the great Good News which changes everything demands that we leave something behind, namely, our fear. To quote from the 90’s movie Defending Your Life, “Fear is like a giant fog. It sits on your brain and blocks everything – real feelings, true happiness, real joy. They can’t get through that fog. But you lift it, and buddy, you’re in for the ride of your life.” That’s how it was. Maybe they left one shepherd behind the way Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin walked on the moon while what’s his name stayed back on the ship. We remember the shepherds because they took that step of faith right over their fear. That’s worth thinking about on Christmas Eve. In this season of abundant anxiety “Fear not,” is the part of this Second Scripture Lesson which I find impossible to ignore, because that’s just such a challenge in the time of a viral pandemic. “Fear not,” is a radical instruction in this time when there is much to fear. Yet, something that I never would have noticed on my own is that as Linus, the Peanut’s character known for always carrying around his blankie, drops it when he says this verse from the Gospel of Luke, “And the angel said unto them, “Fear not!” There’s a message for this age which glimmers from that scene as well as from all the best Christmas movies. “Fear not,” George Bailey. “And see that you’ve had a wonderful life.” “Fear not,” Ebenezer Scrooge. “Your life isn’t over. You can do it all different, starting now.” “Fear not,” ancient shepherds. “Fear not,” my brothers and sisters, for fear is holding all of us captive in one way or another. And I’m not talking about whether or not you’re wearing a mask in public. I’m talking about giving life a chance to be new and surprising. I’m talking about real risk, truly opening yourself up to the transforming power of the Gospel, which requires us to let go of our fear. My brother-in-law is a Methodist pastor. He’s a chaplain down at Oxford College of Emory University, and he frequently writes for the local paper. This week he pointed out that even Christmas movies like Home Alone contain a glimmer of what it means to let go of fear. Do you remember the character with the shovel in that movie? That old man who lurks the neighborhood salting the sidewalks? The kids in the neighborhood are afraid of him. They call him Old Man Marley and the rumor is that he distributes the remains of his murder victims in that salt, slowly getting rid of the evidence, bit by bit and piece by piece. On Christmas Eve he sits down with Kevin, the main character, in church. There it’s revealed that Old Man Marley carries guilt more than evil intentions around with him as he salts the sidewalk, having years ago broken ties with his son. “Why don’t you call him?” Kevin asks. “What if he won’t talk to me?” Old Man Marley responds. You see, he’s afraid. There’s always something to be afraid of, and this has been a fear packed year where there’s something to be afraid of around each and every corner. The obvious fear is of a virus. Some say it’s no worse than the flu, yet it’s taken the lives of more than 300,000 Americans. Some compare the daily death count to other tragedies, saying it’s like a 9/11 every day. We know it’s overwhelming some of our hospitals, it’s beating down the work force, making educators do backflips (as though their jobs weren’t hard enough already), all while some voices are saying: what’s the big deal? It’s easy to be afraid of the truth, but it’s also easy to be even more afraid when it’s not clear what the truth is. That’s made calling home more difficult. Maybe your mother is relieved that you’re not coming. Maybe she’s mad and eating at a buffet right now before she goes to Walmart without a mask on. Ours is a Christmas veiled in a fear that not everyone is facing but all of us are feeling, yet the angels come again with that same message, be not afraid, fear not, come to Bethlehem and see. Drop your burden, let go of whatever it is that you’ve been depending on for comfort be it denial or hand sanitizer, and take comfort in the truth that God is doing something new tonight which changes things. Even though sometimes it’s hard to believe that anything could ever really change. The vaccine is here, but that has some just cautiously optimistic. For example: my Mom works in mental health at the hospital on a Cherokee reservation, so she’s one on that front line to receive a vaccine for this virus, only one of her friends who is Cherokee said, “I was honored that Native Americans are among the first to receive the vaccine, until I started thinking about the last time the government offered to help us out. Is this a cure or another delivery of smallpox blankets?” It’s hard sometime to get excited about the future if you’ve been hurt in the past. It’s hard to be hopeful if you’ve been let down before. It’s hard not to be afraid if you have a good reason to be, but I heard a three-year-old named Dalton quoted this week. She said, “Sometimes it makes me a little nervous to go down the slide,” but guess what, she still goes down them and if we can drop our fear, we’re in for the ride of our lives. That’s what the shepherds did. All at once they could see that there was a power greater than whatever they were afraid of breaking into the world, and the same is true for us. That’s what Christmas is always all about. God breaking into our lives, revealing what fear has hidden from our eyes. Think about it. On Christmas Eve do you really know enough to be hopeless? Wayne Dyer, an author, once wrote: “No one really knows enough to be pessimistic,” especially on the night before hope was born. Fear not. Fear not. What are you holding so tightly that you can’t hear them? Are you ready to recognize that fear could have you seeing it all wrong? For George Bailey was certain he was a failure. Though he had been a hero his whole life regret was blinding him to it. He’s on that bridge, trapped in this whirlwind of emotions and unfulfilled dreams. He never got to do any of things that he wanted to do. He wanted to travel the world but had to stay home to take care of his family. He wanted to be a war hero, but the brother, whose life he saved, got to do that instead. He saved countless lives, he prevented financial ruin, he elevated the lowly, he prevented the degradation of women, he built a community for families where instead there would be a graveyard, and he looks down into the water from a bridge wondering if it had made a lick of difference. “Fear not” George Bailey. “Fear not” Ebenezer. It’s not too late. This Christmas Eve, fear not. Let go of such worries. Forget how to keep score. Look up from the water of hopelessness to see the bright shining star overhead, for the angels are singing, “fear not.” Fear not, all you nurses, underwater, caring for too many people at once. Rushing from one bedside to the next, while friends go to parties and act like everything is fine. Tonight, fear not, because your life of virtue makes a bigger difference than you’ll ever know. Fear not, all you teachers. Abraham Lincoln had to learn remotely too, and look at where he ended up. Fear not all you parents, for learning how to do without never hurt anybody, and it won’t hurt your kids. They should fear not as well. Fear not all you children. Tomorrow is a new day, shining bright with potential. Fear not, even you who mourn, because the God who takes death’s sting away is born unto us. Fear not if you’re hopeless, for there is more to the story. And fear not all you who are alone, because you’re not. The light of the world is breaking into our lives. Drop your fear, anxiety, worry, and angst for just long enough to see that something different is happening for unto us is born this day in the city of David, a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord. Amen.

Prophecy Fulfilled

Scripture Lessons: Jeremiah 31: 31-34 and Luke 1: 67-80 Sermon Title: Surprised by a Fulfilled Prophecy Preached on December 20, 2020 We’re now getting very close to the big day, the most important day for most every child in every state of our nation. The morning when, having made their lists and been as good as possible, they drag their sleeping parents out of bed, rush to the living room to see what Santa’s left under the Christmas Tree. It’s a morning of promises fulfilled. Of wishes made and granted. Christmas morning is the essence of hope and joy. Even if there’s not peace on earth exactly or abundant blessing on all humankind on Christmas morning, it feels like it for just a minute. It’s fleeting, but it’s there. Even if before the wrapping paper is even cleaned up, most of our kids will be thinking about what they’d like to get next year, there is something beautiful about their attitude. Yet think about it. Regardless of the self-interest and materialism, they’re kids who know that dreams do come true and if you really want something you might just get it. Adults don’t think about it that way. On Christmas morning we stand back and watch it happen without feeling exactly the same hopefulness and joy ourselves. Of course, adults still love Christmas morning. I love Christmas morning, but I don’t look at it the same way I once did. I don’t look forward to it as our girls are looking forward to it right now. I wonder if many adults, like me, would rather have Santa come down the chimney to pack up some stuff from my basement and take it back to the North Pole than deliver anything else. A member of our church had too much, so was having a yard sale last weekend. She’s someone with outstanding taste, so as soon as Sara and I heard about it we made or way to her driveway. Then, last Sunday, when a nice armchair hadn’t sold, she invited us back over to pick it up if we still wanted it. Well, we did, and while I was loading it into our car, I asked her what the yard sale had been like. Most people don’t like yard sales. I don’t like hassle of hauling everything outside, then getting up early to stand around while people pick over my stuff. Interestingly, this woman said that the hard part of having a yard sale for her was giving up and moving on. “To have a yard sale, you’re admitting that you’re not going to get to all those things you thought you would. If you’re selling it than you’re facing the fact that you’re never really going to learn how to re-cane those chairs or refinish that dresser.” Your son is never going to come back for his catcher’s mitt. Your daughter really doesn’t want her grandmother’s paintings. To have a yard sale you have to give up on something you imagined or promised yourself that you would do, which is even harder than finding out that some people are only willing to pay fifty cents for what you paid $50 for. Most children aren’t ever thinking like that. They’re still filling up their lives, not downsizing. To them, the whole world is full of possibility, and their dreams are coming true on Christmas morning. They’re good at wishing for. On the other hand, some of their parents have had to master the art of letting go, moving on, and settling for less. If we didn’t imagine how full all our basements would be. Some brides hang onto their wedding dresses, imagining that one day their daughter might wear it. Some grooms hang onto their tuxedos, imaging that they’ll fit back into it. It’s a hard thing to face the fact that neither of those things are likely to happen, so congratulate yourself if you’ve had a yard sale. Give someone else the chance to make their own pasta or brew their own beer but be careful. Let go of your motorcycle, but don’t let go of adventure. Let go of your golf clubs, but find another way of getting outside. Let go of your bassinette, but don’t give up on the future, don’t give up on the promise. For Zechariah it had been so long, surely he had given up on the idea that it would ever happen. Our Second Scripture lesson from Luke is the account of what Zechariah said once he had finally regained his speech. What he says in our Second Scripture Lesson is in celebration of his son’s birth, John the Baptist, but the background for this Scripture lesson is that he had been waiting for a child so long that the bassinette had been sold or given away. They wanted a child, but the child never came, so rather than keep wishing they let go. Is that wrong? Well, it depends. Elizabeth and Zechariah were good and righteous people. The Gospel of Luke goes so far as to say that they were, "Both of them... righteous before God, living blamelessly according to all the commandments and regulations of the Lord." Not only that, Zechariah was a priest and Elizabeth was a descendant of Aaron, the original priest of Israel, but none of that guarantees their lives are full of faith, hope, and love. None of that ensures that they really expected the living God to step into their lives. What we should all assume is that they knew how to pray, but at some point they started to wonder, “what’s the point.” Month by month the disappointment became too much to take, and rather than be the victim of their high expectations, they lowered their sights and settled into the reality that children would just not be in the cards. After all, "both were getting on in years," and part of growing up is letting go of fairy tale dreams, so they had a yard sale and let go. Zechariah continued on as a priest. He kept wearing his priestly garments, saying his priestly prayers, and was surely honored when he was chosen to go offer incense in the holiest place on earth, the sanctuary of the temple, the place where all good Jews knew God was must truly present. Surely, he was honored, but as a man who had gotten good at letting go of some of his dreams and some of his hopes, did he still believe he might meet God there? Had it been you, what would you have expected? Parents know that their kids are growing up when they stop believing in certain things, but where does the stop-believing-in stop? If your kids like Harry Potter, maybe you broke the news that an acceptance letter from Hogwarts School of Witcraft and Wizardry isn’t ever coming? But don’t you still want them to believe that the world is full of magic? At some point I had to let go of my dreams of being a professional baseball player, but did I also let go of the idea that I could be anything I dreamed I could be? Zechariah had stopped asking his wife Elizabeth about it. Now a stomach bug was always just a stomach bug, but having given up on that dream, as he entered the Temple, the place thought to be the sanctuary of God, did he expect anything special to happen. What did he expect to see? When we start letting go, it’s so easy to let go of too much. The words we say in here can become empty, so that it’s easy to participate in the rituals without believing that they mean much of anything. How often have I said to you, “Know that you are forgiven, and be at peace” and how often have you really believed it? How often have I stood at the table, reminding you that Christ died for your salvation, and how often have you really taken it in? I think this is true of Zechariah, that this man who must have known all the stories of Scripture by heart, all the accounts of God speaking to Abraham and Sarah and Rehab and Jacob and Moses, all the times angels appeared, all the miraculous events that changed the course of history, still this man was terrified when an angel of the Lord was there, exactly in the place that an angle of the Lord is supposed to be, because he had let go of too much. He had even let go of the truth that God is alive and makes miracles happen. We are now very close to the big day. Christmas. And Christmas is about this God being born. Christmas is about God really being born and walking around on the earth, but do you really believe he’s coming, are you really ready for his birth, or have you given up believing such miraculous things? Zechariah wasn’t a faithless person. He was a priest after all, but when an angel really showed up and told him that his prayer for a child would be answered he was terrified. His wife on the other hand, you might be thinking, “and you thought Zechariah was afraid,” but Luke tells us that “after those days his wife Elizabeth conceived, and for five months she remained in seclusion. Then she said, "This is what the Lord has done for me when the Lord looked favorably on me and took away the disgrace I have endured among my people." On the other hand, because of his faithlessness, the angel made Zechariah mute. Finally, once he was able to speak again, having only been able to watch and listen, he spoke the Second Scripture Lesson which we just read, not like a rational, measured old man, having learned how to give up on his unfulfilled dreams, but like a faithful prophet, having had his eyes opened to the God who is still at work in this world doing impossible things. There is so much ritual to our celebration of Christmas, but do not forget that there is something wonderfully real beneath all the wrapping paper. It is a love that changes everything. By the tender mercy of our God, The dawn from on high will break upon us, To give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, To guide our feet into the way of peace. These are not empty words. This is no idol tale. This is the prophecy fulfilled. The Good News of our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.

What Child Is This?

Scripture Lessons: Ezra 3: 10-13 and Luke 1: 46-55 Sermon title: What Child Is This Preached on December 13, 2020 Some years ago, I was a camp counselor at Camp Cherokee, which was a church camp the churches in our Presbytery organized up on Lake Allatoona. My sister Elizabeth and I grew up going there. When we were old enough, we both became counselors. Every week of camp there’d be a different preacher who would lead the evening worship service for all the young campers, and one of their sermons comes to mind in thinking about this passage of Scripture, where Mary reacts to the news that she will be the mother of our Savior. This preacher didn’t beat around the bush. He had something he wanted to say, and he was going to say it whether it was appropriate for young ears to hear or not. He was really focused on the Lord’s crucifixion. “Did you know children,” he says, “that after the Lord was betrayed, he was arrested, but the Roman soldiers weren’t kind to our Lord. No, they whipped him. They whipped and whipped him within an inch of his life, but it wasn’t quite enough to kill him.” “So, after they whipped him, they put this awful crown of thorns on his head so that blood dripped down his face. But children, it wasn’t the crown of thorns that killed him either. Since he was still within an inch of his life, they took these old rusty nails. They took these big rusty nails and they nailed him through the arm and to this wooden cross, only it wasn’t the rusty nails that killed him either. Do you know what finally killed him children?” And I could hear it from the back of the group. Just a whisper from a boy of 8 or 9: “Was it tetanus?” I love that story. The preacher is trying to make one point, but a young boy speaks up to make another, and in that moment one sermon gave way to an experience that brings me joy every time I think of it. That’s one place joy comes from isn’t it? This Sunday of the season of Advent we light the third Advent Candle, the Candle of Joy. It’s particularly appropriate that the Foster Family light the Joy Candle, because that was Natalie Foster’s mother’s name, so today we celebrate joy, but think with me about where joy comes from. Don’t we so often find joy in the unexpected. Don’t you see joy when the daily grind blooms in surprises. That’s how it is sometimes. Because sometimes when everything goes according to plan life becomes boring and monotonous, and sometimes when everything goes wrong, it goes exactly right. Sometimes the best laid schemes of mice and men fall apart, and what gives way are stories truly worth telling and remembering. The best Christmas movies are like that. Think about Home Alone. In the movie, Home Alone, in one sense, everything goes absolutely wrong. What could be worse than forgetting your child at home when flying to Paris? That’s what happens to the main character, Kevin, who was no older than the little camper in my story and yet he’s left all alone at Christmas. At first, it’s an exciting adventure for him. For his mother it was her worst nightmare, but what starts off in a nightmare turns into little Kevin learning to value his family. A lesson is learned because they forgot him and left him at home all by himself. Now that wasn’t a well-executed family trip, yet something so good came out of it. In the same way, think about How the Grinch Stole Christmas. No one hopes to have their tree stolen by a broken-hearted man covered in green fur, but when the Who’s down in Whoville find that everything is gone on Christmas morning what do they do? They sing. Then there’s our family favorite, National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation. We watched it last weekend and our daughters couldn’t believe how their parents laughed at all these jokes they considered to be highly inappropriate, yet it is hilarious. It’s hilarious how Clark Griswold works and works and works to enhance everyone’s Christmas cheer, yet nothing goes right. The turkey is dry, one lady wraps up her cat as a present, Snot the dog gags on a bone from under the table, and Cousin Eddie empties the-you-know-what in the storm drain, for despite all our hard work it appears as though all we’re going to get some years is a subscription to Jelly of the Month Club or worse. This has been a challenging year. In some ways, this has been a nightmare of a year. Have you seen the 2020 themed Christmas ornaments? We have special, commemorative ornaments on our tree that represent different milestones. The 2002 ornament from Sara’s Mom has wedding bells on it because that was our first Christmas together as husband and wife. Sara’s Mom also gave us new baby ornaments for 2009 and 2011 for our daughters’ first Christmases. But have you seen the 2020 commemorative ornaments? One has Santa with a N-95 mask on. Another is a garbage dumpster on fire. I just designed one for the Foster’s, because little Harry, their four-year-old, got his head stuck in the banisters of their staircase. Jon made the mistake of sending me a picture, which I’ve sent off to a company to turn into a glass ornament, so they’ll always remember just what this crazy year was like. The Grinch would say that this year stink, stank, stunk, but if we look to Mary then comes the reminder that among our shattered expectations is the promise of God. We know her song well. It’s been sung and sung, again and again. We call it the Magnificat, but consider the context she sang that song in. She had just been told by an angel that she would become the mother to our Savior, but what child is this? Being pregnant wasn’t part of her plan. She wasn’t even married. Do you think she grew up dreaming of the year she’d become an unwed teenage mother? Do you think she was hoping to be the subject of whisper and rumor, a stress on her poor mother and a shame on her father? That Christmas so long ago, was anything going according to how she envisioned it? No. But consider how when all her plans go up in smoke, she sings, because Mary sees something larger than life unfolding before her. She feels a promise growing in her womb. She knew that in her life a dream was becoming a reality, a bright future that she could not have imagined, only for it to be realized she must accept that Christmas can no longer be about her plans. What we see in her song is that faithful Mary knows that this is about God’s plans, so rather than sing a sad lamentation as everything she wrote down in her wedding book planner is going up in flames, Mary rejoices for she knows that sometimes God makes a mockery of our best laid plans to give a gift that’s even better. That’s what happens in all the best Christmas movies. Do you remember how Cousin Eddie kidnaps Clark’s boss and brings him back hog tied in his bathrobe? Now the Griswold’s are truly in the midst of a disaster. Clark has basically already ruined everything in his attempt to hold it all together, only it’s about to get worse, because the SWAT team is poised to capture the kidnapper and Clark is can see himself spending the rest of Christmas in jail. Think about what all is going on here. Things are now very bad, when suddenly the boss can see that not giving his employees their Christmas bonus was the wrong move. Everything is falling apart, but somehow, in the midst of the chaos he is busy recognizing what really matters. Clark’s boss is facing the uncomfortable truth about himself, and wrestling with what he should have done all along but didn’t and what he can do next to somehow make it all right. That’s what he sees as his world is turned upside down. He’s seeing things while at the mercy of a kindhearted doofus, but through his unexpected Christmas Eve this powerful corporate mogul discovers what Christmas really is. The mess has to happen, for the proud must change and be reborn. That’s another reason we love Mary’s song. We love to hear it, because it’s beautiful, only it’s not holly-jolly, radio ready, Christmas fluff. It’s justice, righteousness, and joy springing from ashes. My soul magnifies the Lord, my spirit rejoices in God my Savior His mercy is for those who fear him from generation to generation. He has shown strength with his arm; He has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts. He has brought down the powerful from their thrones. Are you ready for that? Are your eyes open to that? They may as well be, because we’re right in the middle of it. This year we can’t gather for Christmas Eve services as we always have. I’m the most disappointed that we can’t have our family service, but that doesn’t mean families aren’t gathering here. In fact, 350 families are lining up in our parking lot every Monday to receive a box from the Atlanta Food Bank containing five complete meals. For some reason the Atlanta Food Bank gave us boxes and boxes of garlic last week. Thank goodness no one brought all those boxes inside or we’d still be smelling it, but that’s hardly the point. The point is that there is such a profound need in our community, but had we all been rushing around like always, I don’t know if I would have seen it, whereas this year the unemployed and underemployed are impossible for me to ignore. My eyes are open, though my plans are falling apart. We want Christmas to be perfect, but this year it’s being interrupted. Some of us will have to adapt to new ways of doing things. Some of us will be by ourselves this Christmas, which I hate, but consider this: every year some people are alone on Christmas, we just don’t always think about it. Now that you’re thinking about them, hear the invitation to really see them. That’s what Christmas really is. In Home Alone, it took having a nightmare Christmas to discover the miracle of family that they had been taking for granted. In How the Grinch Stole Christmas, it took stealing Christmas for him to understand. In Christmas Vacation, Clark’s plans must go up in flames for him to erupt in joy as his bosses hardened heart changed, finally seeing his employees as people. This year we all have to think about Christmas differently. Inspired by Mary’s song we faithful people must imagine how that can be a blessing. We sing, “What child is this?” And the answer is, he is the one who changes things. Take this year of change as an opportunity to value what you’ve taken for granted, to celebrate what’s become tired routine, and to find joy in the unexpected. May Christ’s peace rise from the ashes of your best laid plans, for he is coming, and he comes to make all things new. Amen.

They Came Confessing their Sins

Scripture Lessons: Isaiah 11: 1-9 and Mark 1: 1-8 Sermon Title: They Came Confessing their Sins Preached on December 6, 2020 Every year at about this time we turn our attention to John the Baptist, and this year, what amazes me about John the Baptist are the crowds. According to our Second Scripture Lesson from the Gospel of Mark, the city and the countryside emptied out and lined up to be in his presence, which this time of year, sounds something like the kind of audience only the likes of Santa Clause would be able to command. But notice how it’s not lines of parents with children who are lining up to see him. Lining up to see John the Baptist are grown men and women. I believe that’s an important detail to pay attention to, because in our culture, what adults are willing to go out of their way to do often seems to have a lot more to do with what their kids want or need than what they themselves want or need. For example, I don’t know many adults who frequent McDonald’s for their own benefit. In fact, if I were given the choice, I’d rather eat about anything than a chicken nugget shaped like a cowboy boot. However, if I had a granddaughter who wanted a happy meal I’d gladly suffer through. Maybe that’s just how it is. Something that may be true about our culture is that we will just do all kinds of things to make kids happy, and so, maybe you, like me, are wondering who in their right mind would travel out into the desert to confess? Who even has time in their schedule for that? Yet, they swarmed him. They made it a priority to go and see him it seems, though he was way out there. I don’t know how far they all had to travel. Surely it wasn’t on a paved road. They likely had to diverge from the paths of their daily routine to walk through the sand and scrub of the wilderness to get to the river, which is something that I know people are willing to do, but not often for themselves. Think about what we’ll do for our kids. I showed up outside the Marietta Center for Advanced Academics at 4:00 AM to make sure that our daughter got in. It was raining, and the man at the front of the line was in his camo coveralls. He had one of those pop-up tents and one of those nice folding chairs that reclines. When they opened the doors, he had fallen asleep and we all just walked right passed him. I said to the guy next to me, “shouldn’t we wake him up?” It turns out, someone else was looking out for him. His kid got in too, but my point is that we’ll do almost anything for our kids, while the grown-ups in our Second Scripture Lessons didn’t go out into the desert on behalf of their child’s education. When I was a kid in little league, my parents paid for me to have a private batting instructor. Imagine that. I was so well cared for. My dad would come home from work having already sat in traffic, then he’d get right back in it to drive me out to this special lesson, but those crowds didn’t go out into the desert to see John so that their kid would have a leg up on the baseball field. They went for themselves. These people went out to the river Jordan to see John, who was clothed with camel’s hair, with a leather belt around his waist, but it wasn’t for their kids. It was for them to confess. We need to think about that. Especially these days, we need to think about what we will travel long distances for and for whom we will make sacrifices, because so many among us will go through hardship and will take risk to make sure that the kids they love have the chance to stand before a certain man with a long beard wearing a strange outfit, but it’s not John the Baptist and it’s not for them. As a culture, we don’t have any problem teaching our kids that it’s OK to want something for Christmas, but what do you want? What do I want? I remember how long the lines were when I was a kid. We’d first have a special breakfast, then we’d ride the Pink Pig, before standing in the longest line to sit on Santa’s lap, laying before him all our Christmas wishes. This year many will still go see him because it’s important. It’s not wrong to be able to say what it is that you want. That’s a skill kids need to have. It’s OK to want things, so we encourage our kids to write it all down. Even if they can only just slip their list into a slot rather than place it in Santa’s hand. Did you hear that pandemic Santa smiles from within this sanitary snow globe like enclosure so no germs are exchanged? Things are different this year. Still, we want to make sure that our kids can make their wishes known. Our girls have made their lists. Lily turned hers into a power point presentation. With music. I’m serious. The slides have different color backgrounds, purple if she really wants it. Blue if she just sort of does. There’s a picture of the item on each slide, a link for her grandparents to click on, which makes buying for her very convenient, and I’ve been there encouraging her through each draft of this presentation that she started back on October, because I want our daughters to be able to stand up and tell the world what they want. I want them to be honest and clear about what they need. On the other hand, we don’t really encourage adults to do that sort of thing. “What do you want to have for dinner,” a husband asked his wife. “I don’t care,” she responded. It’s hard for some adults to put stuff on a Christmas list because they’re used to paying attention to what other people want and need, and maybe we shouldn’t be spending time on Christmas lists, but all those grown-ups went out of their way to see John the Baptist. Why? What does he have to offer? Some kids have their list, all typed up: - Nintendo switch - Baby Alive - Hot Wheels Ultimate Garage But what about their parents? Some dad will ask for a nice bottle of scotch, only what will really give him some real true peace? I can image a mother who can’t think of anything to ask for, so her kids will probably just get her another scarf. Who needs another scarf? What if instead, she doesn’t think about Santa this year and instead imagines herself lining up to see John. What if we were all to imagine ourselves lining up at the river to ask for the number one thing that every mother and father really wants and needs? I don’t even remember where I heard this. It might not be based on a study or any real data, still, it rings true: that what every father wants more than anything else is just to be appreciated by his family and what every mother so truly wants is to be forgiven. Does that sound right? There’s a comedian who has this bit about how no one ever gives dad credit for anything. Polite sons know to thank their mothers for dinners made and stuff like that, but none of them ever say, “Hey Dad, I sure to appreciate how you worked so hard to keep on the lights in this house. I just want to thank you for paying the mortgage Dad.” Can you imagine that? Dad’s want to be appreciated. That’s maybe what’s on their Christmas list. Could that be true. That way of thinking is based on a generalization. One that’s not always true for most families, as so many women are now the bread winners, but maybe it sounds close enough and maybe this does too: that so many mothers live with the fear of what their children are telling a therapist about them. If any of this regarding mothers and fathers really just wanting appreciation and forgiveness rings true, then think about John the Baptist as some kind of Santa Clause for grown-ups, because instead of a wish list of presents, people voice to him all their mistakes, regrets, and second guessing. Then, on Christmas morning they look under the tree to find God’s grace. That’s nice to think about, isn’t it? But that’s what this is all about. John called people to be honest about the desires of their heart, so what heavy burden do you want to lay down? What mistake did you make that you need to be forgiven for? What did you say that you wish you never would have said? What did you do that you wish you never would have done? Speak now and know that one is coming who has healing in his wings. What we see here in the Gospel of Mark is just the tip of the iceberg of the great miracle of Christianity, the true center of our faith. The real focal point, the chief creed, the unique and defining attribute of what is required to follow Jesus, namely: opening ourselves up to receive the grace he brings. My world religions teacher said it like that in college. Someone asked him, “what is unique about Christianity?” There are so many commonalities between the great world religions, what makes Christianity different? He said it was grace. That in all the world’s great religions, all those faiths that call people to higher ideals of love and hope, it is Christianity which most boldly proclaims among them all: your imperfection is no hinderance. You don’t need to be ashamed or afraid. Be honest before God about what you wished you’d done and just start again. It’s not too late. Today is a new day. That feels to me like an especially important message this year, because who among us really feels like right now, this year, they’re being their best self? You know what our girls told me? They said, “Daddy, you’ve gotten a lot meaner since you turned 40.” I don’t think that’s true, but things do grate on me more now than they used to. I am shorter with them than I want to be but being on Zoom calls for hours at a time is just doing something to my head, so when they leave their lunch boxes on the floor in the kitchen or yell at each other in the living room, it pushes me over the edge a lot sooner than it did a year ago. Maybe we’re all stretched a little too thin. Maybe we’re wearing down in ways we’re not used to. But let me tell you this too: That world religions professor from college: I walked into his classroom on the day of the test, only I didn’t know it was the day of the test. He could tell I was surprised and unprepared, and so he offered me grace. He said, “you can come to my office in two days to take the test then.” Well, I did that, only I wasn’t prepared two days later either. Why? Because grace without repentance is wasted grace. Admitting that there’s something not quite right is the perfect place for our grown-up Christmas lists to start. Why? Because Grace is coming, but to receive it, we must first get OK with the truth, that we all need it.

Let the Same Mind Be in You

Scripture Lessons: Ephesians 1: 15-23 and Matthew 25: 31-46 Sermon Title: Let the Same Mind Be in You Preached on November 22, 2020 Today is Christ the King Sunday; this is a Sunday which reminds us who is truly king, who we owe allegiance, who it is that can lead us to a better place than the one we find ourselves in right now, and what this true king requires of us. We’re all serving somebody, but who, and what do they require? Sara and I have been watching The Crown on Netflix. Season four is now out. I don’t know about you, but when there’s anything new to watch on TV I get terribly excited. Margaret Thatcher shows up in season 4, and so does Diana, and it’s the ending of their first episode together that I’d now like to ruin for you if you haven’t already seen it. Please forgive me. Margaret Thatcher, the Prime Minister, shows up to spend some time with the royal family at their castle in Scotland. It’s a hard thing to go up and spend some time at anyone’s home because you may not know all the rules: what’s dinner attire, should we have brought something, does everyone come down to breakfast still in their pjs? Such waters become exponentially more difficult to navigate when you are in the home of the English Royal Family. The Prime Minister and her husband know all that, so they’re visibly nervous about meeting the standards of their host, the Queen, as they’re shown to their rooms, and they can immediately tell that here the rules are different from what they’re accustomed to because when in Scotland spouses in the home of the royal family don’t sleep in the same bed or even stay in the same bedroom. Fortunately, there is an itinerary for their stay. It’s been printed and placed on a table, so they know that the next gathering is that evening, though it’s not clear if one should come down to drinks at 6:00 already dressed for dinner, which is black tie. The Thatcher’s decided to go down prepared for dinner. However, when they come down for drinks at 6:00 in their formal attire they join the royal family who’s just come in from stalking a stag. They’re all muddy in their hiking boots and are surprised by what the Thatcher’s have on. You see, they’re already falling short. The next day the Queen invites the Prime Minister to go out to stalk this stag. Unfortunately, the Prime Minister only brought her sensible heels, which is the wrong footwear for traversing the Scottish Highlands. That evening, the Royal Family plays parlor games. Margaret Thatcher doesn’t play parlor games. Basically, it’s all a failure for the Thatcher’s. The Prime Minister is judged harshly, and she goes home early, defeated. Then the young woman who would be Princess Diana shows up. She makes everyone laugh, she spots the stag they’ve been stalking, she wins at parlor games, and it’s clear that she’s done what she needed to have done to gain the approval of the Royal Family. Only, at the end of the episode as the paparazzi learns that Diana is the prince’s new love interest. They begin to surround her with their flashing cameras as servants back in Scotland are hanging the mounted stag’s head on the wall, and it becomes clear that while Diana has been accepted, her acceptance comes at a cost. We all bow before somebody, but whose acceptance are we working for? Princess Diana had the perfect wedding by royal standards. Do you remember how long the train was on her gown that nearly filled up Westminster Abby? She met their expectations, she rose to the occasion, but she walked down the aisle and married a man who loved another woman. Sometimes we serve masters who seem to offer salvation, so we grovel before them and rise to their expectations, but what do they really give? Today is Christ the King Sunday; a Sunday which reminds us who is truly king, and who can lead us to a better place than the one we find ourselves in right now. Considering where we are right now, I wonder if life feels to you anything like it must have felt to Moses and the Israelites, standing on the beach, with the Egyptian army closing in. There’s nowhere to go, as we can’t just march through the sea. Life isn’t normal but neither has the road back to normal been made clear. God will save us, but we must wait, and we must not turn on each other while we wait or there won’t be anything left for him to save. Hear what he requires of those whom he’ll lead across the sea and into the Promised Land: Come, you that are blessed by my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world; for I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you gave me clothing, I was sick and you took care of me, I was in prison and you visited me. His point is that how we treat each other, maybe especially in a climate where nothing goes exactly as it should, matters most. Yet, some make rising to the same standards of perfection set by human society which were unattainable before all this started their chief priority, prompting the question: who do we really serve? Our wedding wasn’t like Diana’s. I’ve been thinking about our wedding because last Monday was our 18th wedding anniversary. The ceremony was supposed to be outside, but it rained. I was given this one job: find someone who can sing, and I did, only I’d never asked to hear him sing and while he did sing, he shouldn’t have. There was a band, but they spent all their time eating rather than playing, and they didn’t know the words to the song we wanted them to play for our first dance, so we used a CD only the CD skipped. In so many ways we failed to rise to the standards in our minds. Certainly, this was no Royal Wedding, but we love each other. We still do, and it is by the standard of how well we all love each other that we will be judged by the King of Kings. Not everyone seems to know that but notice how he just comes right out and says it, “I’m King of Kings, and if you want me to welcome you into my kingdom, pay attention to the least of these. Wear sensible high heels all you want, just pay attention to the poor.” Is he the one whose acceptance we are working for? In our world today it’s getting even harder to follow the social protocol, because it’s not university accepted what we should be doing. It reminds me of that wonderful line about the chaos of the time of Judges: “In those days there was no king in Israel; all people did what was right in their own eyes.” And so, some wear masks and some don’t. You’ll be judged by someone either way. Our world is so full of judgement. An old preacher used to say that far too many church goers have grown used to having Kentucky Fried Pastor for lunch after worship. They gather around the table to debate how long or how short the sermon. The congregation judges the preacher, the preacher judges the congregation, husbands judge their wives, wives judge their husbands, sisters judge each other, sometimes we judge just to have something to talk about with friends. Only then we even judge ourselves. We don’t just look in the mirror. No, we look in the mirror and we compare ourselves to some standard. Do I look young enough? Do I look trim enough? Am I pretty enough? Every student in High School does the same thing. She thinks about what she’ll wear and how she’ll act, because she knows she’s being judged and watched, not just graded by her teachers but also assed as worthy or unworthy based on her looks. I’d like to say that at some point it gets easier. It does, but it also never ends until we settle on whose acceptance we’re willing to work for. Let it be the one who will have final judgement over you. Consider, not what this world wants from you, but what He requires: I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you gave me clothing, I was sick and you took care of me, I was in prison and you visited me. That’s what finally matters. That’s how you’ll make perfect memories. That’s what really fulfills us and makes us people we’re proud to be. How do you treat people? Our wedding was perfect, because the woman I’m married to is who I love. I don’t always wear the right clothes, or do the right things, but ultimately, I’ll not be judged by my clothes or my deeds, I’ll be judged by the standards set by the God of love. May the same mind be in you, that was in the Christ Jesus, Who, though he was in the form of God, Did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited, but emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, being born in human likeness. And being found in human form, he humbled himself and became obedient to the point of death – even death on a cross. We are all standing on the shore, and the only way to get to the Promised Land is for God to deliver us, but what we do now matters. We only have the power to treat each other well, and by our love they’ll know we are Christians. Amen.

Misjudging the Master

Scripture Lessons: 1 Thessalonians 5: 1-11 and Matthew 25: 14-30 Sermon title: Misjudging the Master Preached on 11/15/2020 As you well know, Jesus often taught using parables, and a parable is what we just read. Generally speaking, a parable is one way he helps us to understand heavenly things. By using things, we already knew something about, like oil and lamps, mustard seeds, rebellious sons, or in this case, slaves, money, investments, and a master, Jesus helps us to understand something that we don’t know very much about, like God, for example. I just made the statement that we don’t know very much about God. The thing is, maybe we think we do. That’s why it went so badly with the third slave. He didn’t understand what he was to do with what he had been given, nor did he understand the one who gave it. There were three slaves. Each was given a very large sum of money. What our Bible calls a “talent” was about a year’s salary for a day laborer, only remember that these three were slaves. As slaves, they had nothing, so think about what it must have been like to hold all that money. To have had a full salary all at once would have been intoxicating to a person who expected to work a full lifetime without receiving any pay. Just think about it. Have you ever been to an old plantation turned museum? You go through the big house and maybe there’s furniture and candelabra. Maybe you see what all the master and his family would have owned: toys in the nursery, glass mirrors, and polished doorknobs. Then you go out to where the slaves’ quarters once stood. There are cabins with a dirt floor; maybe a table, a chair, and a pallet in the corner. It’s likely that an archaeologist excavated the area find what’s left by the people who lived there, only all that this archaeologist found was a button, a clay pipe, and a broken glass bottle. Can you imagine what it would feel like if all you owned in the whole wide world was a glass bottle, but then you’re given a full year’s wages, times two or even five? What do you do with all that money? What do you do with anything so huge that comes into your possession? Maybe you just hold onto it, without knowing what to do. That’s a problem, because it’s possible to ruin things by holding on to them too tightly. Consider the transition of power. We know that democracy works best when politicians remember that their primary task is to serve the people rather than get themselves re-elected, yet so many hold onto their office as though the point of having political power were maintaining it. They hold onto the talents God has given them too tightly, and so they disappoint the master. That can happen. Maybe that’s happening right now. According to the Atlanta Journal Constitution’s Editorial board, at least a couple politicians have questioned the integrity of our recent elections without any real evidence. Are they doing our country any favors if they hold onto political power breaking our trust in the electoral process? Or thinking of the parable: does the master entrust these slaves with such huge gifts that they just hold onto what they’ve been entrusted with? No. In fact, I believe the parable teaches us that the master desires something much bigger than that. Two of the slaves risk losing what the master gave them so that what’s his flourishes and grows, which makes me think of what’s happened here in Cobb County. Maybe you say that Roy Barnes was quoted in Around Town last Wednesday in the Marietta paper. You know Roy Barnes. He’s a Methodist, but that’s OK. What struck me about what all he said last Wednesday is how he talked about how important it was for him to do what was best, not for his party, but for our county when he served as the State Senate floor, even though what he was doing was likely to cost him an election: One of the great things about Cobb County is that even when the Democrats and Republicans were changing from Democrats to Republicans, there was one thing that we had in common. If it affected Cobb County and was good for Cobb County, all of us were going to support it, whether it was Democratic or Republican. He told about building Barrett Parkway and the East-West Connector. Can you imagine if those weren’t there? Rather than take credit for these great road building projects which opened up our country to business and new residents, he said, “It was all of us working together.” But once Joe Mack Wilson, a republican, told Barnes, who is a democrat, “Now you realize what all this is doing? It’s just going to bring in more Republicans.” And Barnes responded, “Yes, that’s probably true, but Joe, we’ve got to do it. We’re going to do what’s best for Cobb County regardless.” That’s it, isn’t it? “If you’re going to grow, if you’re going to prosper,” you’ve got to do what’s best rather than just hold on to what you have, burying it where no one else can benefit from it, for sometimes fighting to maintain what you have is the best way to lose it all. There were three slaves. The one who was given five took his talents and made five more. The one who was given two took his talents and made two more. Then the one who was given one took his talent and buried it in the ground. What do you see here? Maybe you see two whom you’d like to hire as your wealth advisor. On the other hand, maybe you see that two were willing to take a risk with what wasn’t theirs while the third was cautious and conservative. Or maybe you see that two acted purely out of love for their master with little concern to whether or not they’d disappoint him while the third acted completely out of fear. Has fear ever played such a role in your life? Sometimes you fear that you might lose what you have, so you hold on too tightly. Sometimes you fear disappointing anyone, but you end up disappointing everyone. Sometimes you fear failure, so you never really try. That’s the culture in some households. That’s how some people were raised. Their mother couldn’t stand the thought of a broken plate or a cavity. I grew up in a house where mistakes were OK, and so was breaking things. In fact, if there wasn’t a flat head screwdriver handy, my Dad would grab a butter knife from the silverware drawer. If we were having guests over and needed more place settings, my Mom might send us to the sandbox to collect all the missing spoons. However, not every household is like that. In some kitchen’s children start crying as soon as a glass slips out of their hands because they know that making a mess is just cause for condemnation. The third slave assumed his master was like that, and so he explaigns: Master, I knew that you were a harsh man, reaping where you did not sow, and gathering where you did not scatter seed; so I was afraid, and I went and hid your talent in the ground. Here you have what is yours. What I love is how the master responds: You knew, did you. You knew, did you, that I reap where I did not sow, and gather where I did not scatter? You knew, that I’d punish you if you messed up? You knew that I’m harsh and ungenerous. Where did you get that idea? From the year’s wages that I gave you for no reason? What we have here in this parable is a failure to communicate, because this slave is sure that he knows the master, while being completely and horribly wrong. Has that ever happened to you? Have you ever misjudged the master? I do that all the time. Let me give you an example. You might know this, but we have the most incredible food distribution ministry. The School Board recognized our church at their meeting last week. Rev. Cassie Waits and Aimee Bush were there to be recognized and thanked. Aimee has been running a tight ship, organizing a great team of volunteers, and even driving a great big refrigeration truck that holds our milk and chicken while we give it out. The need is great. Right now, people are diving here from the Six Flags area because there are so few places who are able to distribute food during this pandemic. Every Monday, enough food for 1,500 meals is dropped off at the church from the Atlanta Food Bank. Can you imagine what 1,500 meals worth of spaghetti looks like? I’ve told you that we’ve distributed more than 200,000 lbs. of food, which is hard to quantify. The better visual is a line of cars that fills up our main parking lot, and then circles the big parking lot across the tracks. We provide several days’ worth to 250 families every Monday. We’re talking about hundreds of cars, yet one volunteer, Fran Brailsford, knows all their faces and remembers so many of their names. I was standing out there with Fran and Andria Freund. Andria has to watch traffic, so that she can send cars down Kennesaw from our North Parking lot into our main parking lot without stopping the flow of traffic. It’s quite a process, and it’s a lot of cars, so I assumed that when a neighbor who lives right by our church called to talk about the food distribution, he was calling to ask why it was taking him so long to get home from work, and if I could do anything about all these cars backing up traffic. Why would I assume that? Because when people call me, sometimes I assume they’re calling me with a problem. When the principle calls you to her office you don’t assume it’s to receive a lollypop, likewise, sometimes people call me, and if they say, “Joe, I’d like to talk with you about something,” my first impulse is to think it’s bad, only when I returned this wonderful man’s phone call he told me that he’d like to donate $7,500 to feed even more people than we are already. Why do we live in such fear? Why do we misjudge the master, when the master has already done so much for us? In a culture of fear, we must remember who are master is and what he intends for us, so I remind you of these words from our First Scripture Lesson: God has destined us not for wrath but for obtaining salvation through our Lord Jesus Christ. Don’t misjudge the Master. Don’t mistake his intention for you. Don’t fail to see his hand at work in your life. Don’t ignore the sound of his voice proclaiming his undying love, for his is our God and has Destined us not for wrath but salvation. Amen.

When the Lights Go Out

Scripture Lessons: 1 Thessalonians 4: 13-18 and Matthew 25: 1-13 Sermon Title: When the Lights Go Out Preached on November 8, 2020 I asked Lynne Sloop, a great leader in our congregation, how she and her husband Bob had weathered the tropical storm that went through Cobb County week before last. Lynne said they were fine, but she was humbled, as losing electricity always seems to show her that she’s a little less self-sufficient than she thought she was. I liked that response. I could relate to it, because the same was true for us. We were fine, but we were humbled, because that tropical storm forced us to recognize that our lives are little luxurious compared to how our ancestors lived. My grandfather was raised in a place called the Caw-Caw Swamp. That’s in the low-country of South Carolina. He was born at home in their cabin, premature, so without a NICU to rush him off to, his mother had to make do. She heated bricks in the fire, made a pallet for him on the floor, and stacked the warmed bricks around him, making her own incubator without a hospital or even electricity. On the other hand, Friday before last, when I woke up in a dark house because the power was out, our automatic coffee maker didn’t have my coffee waiting for me like usual. That was hard for me to deal with. It only takes a power-outage to show me that not all my wicks are trimmed and burning. There’s not oil in all my lamps. In fact, there weren’t even batteries in all my flashlights, because I wasn’t expecting a storm to come, and I wasn’t ready. Were you ready? Not everybody is, and that’s part of the point with this parable from the Gospel of Matthew: Then the kingdom of heaven will be like this. Ten bridesmaids took their lamps and went to meet the bridegroom. Five of them were foolish, and five were wise. When the foolish took their lamps, they took no oil with them; but the wise took flasks of oil with their lamps. It sounds like this is the parable of the Boy Scouts. The ones who lived by that motto: “Be prepared,” were ready. They were wise. The ones who weren’t expecting the bridegroom to take so long were left in the dark, for they didn’t bring enough oil with them. However, maybe we should cut them some slack. For one thing, he didn’t tell them when he would arrive. Through this parable he’s telling us, “I’m coming. Be ready, but you don’t know the time or the hour.” Not knowing when does make his arrival hard to prepare for, only life is full of these situations where we walk into the unexpected. When that happens, some wind up looking prepared and some are caught on their heels. It’s been that way during the pandemic. Kroger sold out of dried beans and yeast. That’s good for them. On the other hand, Jack’s New York Deli is closed. I walked past their store front last Thursday morning and it makes me sad to think about how I’ll never again taste their outlaw sandwich or their French fries. What’s happened during this epidemic has changed our economy, and it seems as though some were ready and some were not. I was talking with Tom Clarke who manages investments for a living. Who would have thought that there’d need to be a business that allows people to have meetings at home? I don’t know who knew we’d need Zoom, but I can tell you, they’re rich right now, because those who end up prepared for unforeseen circumstances profit. Five of the bridesmaids had oil reserves, and we ought to be happy for them. In fact, we ought to be happy too, for all the ways our church was prepared for what we’re going through right now. Consider the cameras, lights, and all the livestream technology we have in this room. Looking back to when we asked you to fund the capital campaign to pay for all this stuff, surely some of you thought, “We’ll never need all that. Church on the internet? That sounds crazy!” In a way, it did to me too, but when the quarantine hit back in March, my parent’s church up in Bryson City, North Carolina, was busy trying to figure out how to livestream a worship service for the very first time. My dad was buying an iPad to stream the service and their preacher was all frustrated by being recorded. Me, down here in this place, I was like Benny Hinn. We already had it all together, and when it comes to the worship service, we never really missed a beat. The unexpected came, but we were ready, kind of like the wise bridesmaids. Then the city schools asked us if we’d be willing to help them distribute milk and produce out of our parking lot. A group of ladies started sowing facemasks. More than 200,000 pounds of food and more than 2,000 masks later I knew that we had become a church in a virtual world, still changing lives with faith, hope and love, but it was the love part that had me worried. It still does. Our church motto is, “changing lives with faith, hope, and love,” but it’s hard to love your neighbor if you don’t really know your neighbor. In this world that’s already pretty isolating, and now under a pandemic that mandates isolation, I’ve been worried about how well we could love each other, because there are a whole bunch of us who barely know each other. We asked these folks to become neighborhood group leaders. Some of them said, “I emailed my group, but none of them wrote me back.” Another said, “I called all ten households in my neighborhood group, but the first three I called all said they’re going to a different church.” That makes it hard. Only, think about how important it is to have connections. When the power went out one family in our church called their neighborhood group leader, who invited them to come on over and put everything from their freezer in hers. When the power goes out, it because clear, that we need each other. But not everyone has someone they can call, so Home Depot has a run on generators, which is fine, so long as Home Depot’s open. This is what happened in the parable: As the bridegroom was delayed, all of them became drowsy and slept. But at midnight there was a shout, ‘Look! Here is the bridegroom! Come out and meet him.’ Then all those bridesmaids got up and trimmed their lamps. The foolish said to the wise, ‘Give us some of your oil, for our lamps are going out.’ But the wise replied, ‘No! there will not be enough for you and for us; you had better go to the dealers and buy some for yourselves.’ And while they went to buy it, the bridegroom came. Here’s the question that this parable demands we ask: were they foolish because they didn’t bring enough oil, or were they foolish because they ran off to the store in the middle of the night? Were they foolish because they weren’t prepared, or were they foolish because they panicked? Were they foolish because they looked within themselves and said, “I don’t have enough,” or were they foolish because they thought they could find what they needed to fill up their lack at the corner store? I tell you: the Light of the World is coming. You’re not going to need your lamp. Just don’t run away. He can bring light to all our darkness. Just don’t panic. Let him come. I feel sure that this isn’t really a parable just about self-sufficiency, because if we could make it through this life by hording enough to keep the lights on than what did Christ die for? If all that was required of a disciple was being ready for anything, then we should shut this church down and turn it into a discount mart for end of the world preppers. My friends, he died for us because he loved us before we were worthy of his love. He died to save us before we were worth saving. We baptize little infants because that’s what God’s love is like. We are all helpless, unprepared, broken down, and lost in the darkness. So, I say they were foolish, not because they weren’t prepared, they were foolish because they were ashamed. They responded to Christ, not with faith, but anxiety. The light of the world was running late, and they thought he’d reject them because they’re wasn’t enough oil in their lamps, but what does the light of the world need with an oil lamp? We get in so much trouble preparing for a feast, putting our houses in order, trying to look ready, that we keep out the one who could make us clean. I was walking around the neighborhood on election night and I saw, because I’m nosey enough to look in people’s windows, that one of my neighbors already has her Christmas Tree up. It’s as though we’re all getting ready early so we can still have the perfect Christmas, but I tell you this, you can buy out Hobby Lobby to deck your every hall, you can pressure your parents into coming into your house even though they’re afraid, you can push right through the wall of every restriction put on us to be more prepared for Christmas than you’ve ever been, but what are all your preparations compared to the reality that the Son of God is born unto us? The foolish ones were worried about their oil, but the wise ones didn’t even need to use it, because this God of ours is at work among us, so stop trying so hard to make things perfect. You don’t have to. Stop trying so hard to make Thanksgiving special. It already is, so don’t miss out on the whole thing by running back and forth to Kroger. There are moments in life that we miss for trying to be completely prepared. Think about how hard people work to get ready for new babies. Every father spends so much time rushing back and forth to Baby’s Are Us, it seems like the baby could be walking before the nursery’s finished. I read a great article about thankfulness. The author confessed: In my house, as I am sure it is with many others, conversation, as well as anxiety and flat out worry, surrounds the questions about how are we going to reenact all of our Holiday traditions? Can we gather with family and friends? Will we all wear masks right up until the Thanksgiving Turkey is carved and then eat our dinner, keeping appropriate distance from one another? Will we be able to have Christmas Eve Worship without holding our lit candles while we sing Silent Night with our church family? And pretty quickly we find that we have a knot in our stomach that we can’t untie, and our frustrations and anxiety grow with every passing moment. We can’t be ready. We can’t be perfectly prepared, so just be present. God has this under control, so take a breath. Back to the storm: our power was out. It was on and off for a couple days. There was a great big tree leaning on our power line. However, there were so many other emergencies to deal with, it took two days for the truck to pull up and start working on it. First it was three of them walking down our road. I saw the tallest of the three, pointing up at the trees to the other two. It really looked like this guy knew what he was doing. After a while, I walked down there to watch, and that tall guy walks up to me, looking at me like he’s trying to place my face. “What do you do for a living?” he asked. I didn’t know why he was asking. Did he need more help? Did I look like I could handle a chainsaw, or was he ready for me to get out of the way? “I’m a preacher,” I told him. “At First Presbyterian church?” he asked. It turns out this man, who’s crew got our power back on goes to church with us every Sunday on Facebook. His name is Steve Graham. He’s married to Janet, who I met at a Civitan meeting with Elizabeth Manning, and there we were, standing in the street, face to face. I kept on thanking him for getting our power back on. Guess what he said, “You just keep preaching. You don’t know how much good that does me. I’m glad to repay the favor.” There is plenty of light out there in the world. So, stop trying so hard to make it perfect, don’t try to make this year just like last year, and don’t give up because it’s not how you imagined it would be. Instead, rest and wait as you are, and let him do what he does best. For when the lights go out, the light of the world shows up. Amen.

Who Are These?

Scripture Lessons: 1 John 3: 1-3 and Revelation 7: 9-17 Sermon Title: Who Are These? Preached on November 1, 2020 Last Sunday my brother was in town and we were all having lunch, outside, after church at McCallister’s by the hospital. We were discussing etiquette and appropriate wardrobe for Zoom meetings. Because he’s now an English Composition professor at a community college in Charlotte, teaching all his classes on-line rather than in person, one of our girls asked him if he ever taught his classes while wearing pjs. Generally, we agreed that wearing pjs to teach a college class sends the wrong message, but my brother and our girls also thought it would be nice if there was a line of formal pjs, that looked sort of like a suit and tie to wear while lecturing a class from home during a pandemic. (If someone takes this idea and runs with it, just tithe back 10% to the church, please.) My point is that clothes matter this way. What you have on says a lot about you. I once met a pastor who had served great big churches in great big cities and I asked him, “What should I be working on as I prepare for a life in ordained ministry?” Thinking he might emphasize a healthy prayer life or a disciplined routine for studying Scripture, instead he looked at my outfit and told me to shine my shoes. “People judge you by what you wear. If you want people to think that you’re taking ministry seriously, show them by dressing seriously.” That’s what he said, and I think he’s right about that. I’ve challenged myself to live by that advice and I’ve repeated his words more than once, only consider what the saints were wearing. We’ve just read a beautiful passage of Scripture from the book of Revelation. I believe it’s this passage that inspired the hymn: When the Saints Go Marching In. Here in Revelation is this great multitude, made up of all tribes and peoples and languages. Surely, we all want to be in that number, but what does it take? What is required? Do you have to shine your shoes to be one of the saints in light? No. That’s not it. Notice what they’re wearing. Their wardrobe is explained by one of the elders: “These are they who have come out of the great ordeal; they have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the lamb.” Their wardrobe says a lot about them, though what their white robes mean isn’t necessarily obvious, so let me try and clarify. I always wear white, pressed shirts to lead worship. When I’m getting dressed, I flip up the collar to put on my tie. (This isn’t a clip-on.) However, because I’m not very good at shaving, sometimes I’ll get a little blood on my collar, and if it’s too obvious I’ll put that shirt aside to get another, for in this case a spot of blood is an imperfection. For them, having been washed in the blood of Christ’s sacrifice, it is their salvation, as his death washes away all imperfection. His blood makes us clean and new. It is because he died that we are saved, not because we are perfect. So often when we think about being a saint, and oh, how I want to be in that number, we think about being good, pure, steadfast, and holy, only that’s not what makes this multitude different. That’s not what set them apart. It’s that they’ve been washed in his sacrifice. It’s that they’ve accepted his mercy. It’s that they’re not waiting until their world is perfect to stop and sing. They know who is in control, so even as the sky falls, they’re singing praises already. Notice how they sing. Notice what they’re wearing. Consider what they’ve been through. We read that “These are they who have come out of the great ordeal.” What was that? Some might say that we’re in the middle of one right now. Some of you are working hard to get out of it, by urging your friends to wear their masks so that this virus gets under control or making sure that your friends vote so that we’re either delivered from tyranny or protected from it, depending on your political persuasion. How did they make it through their great ordeal? You may know that the book of Revelation was written in the time of the Roman Empire, and when the book speaks of evil at work in the world and the rule of the anti-Christ, it’s the Roman Empire which Revelation refers to, however, we keep reading this book, hundreds of years after the fall of Rome, because Christians in every age must struggle to live in a society that doesn’t always reflect their values. The question for us today, is what are we to do and what do we learn from them? Are we saved once we’ve fought back all the evil? Are we saved once we’ve voted all the right people into office? Are we saved once we’ve finally created a holy society and a more perfect union, with shoes shined and clean white shirts? Certainly, many act as though this were the case, for some will storm the streets next week if the vote doesn’t go their way. Is that what it takes to be a Saint? Some of you have voted already. Others of you will vote on Tuesday. I don’t feel that it’s appropriate for me as your preacher to tell you who you ought to vote for, though I do have a strong opinion, because politics is not my area of expertise. This is: the one who will be elected might be president but he’s not really in control. Regardless of who wins, he might think he’s running the show, but he reports to a higher power. Some think that “if our man wins,” everything is going to turn in our favor, and if the other wins, the world will fall apart while the Saints know that Christ has already saved and redeemed them. We have to remember that. Politically, we’re a split congregation. Half of you are going to be disappointed this week. Some of you are going to watch the results come in and you’ll worry about the future of our nation. Some of you are going to wish your spouse didn’t vote for the other guy and cancelled your vote out. If you find yourself devastated on November 5th or whenever all the votes are really counted, the ones who trust only in human power will storm the streets but the Saints among us will remember that God is in control. If the next president is good, great. Glory to God. But if he’s bad, God will still be at work, revealing the sins of our nation and reminding us that we were fools to put so much trust in one mortal. That’s the difference: some of us think the world and the future rests in our hands, while Saints are always putting their trust, not in human power but in God’s, regardless. So, I hope you’ll vote. I hope you’ll vote like the future depends on it, because it does. But I also hope you’ll sing, because God is in control. I hope you’ll stand up for what you believe in, because you are powerful, but I also hope you’ll kneel to pray, because you are not all powerful. I also hope you’ll choose your candidates and advocate for them, but remember that there’s a whole multitude of people up there whom we must join, and if we don’t get better at unity now we’re going to have a long learning curve once we get to heaven. Today we’ll name those of our congregation who joined the ranks of that great multitude this past year. What we’ll remember about them is not just what they did or failed to do. All their accomplishments and all their sins are nothing compared to this one commonality: they were washed in the blood of the lamb. Knowing that he can do for us what we could never do for ourselves, we remember those who have died, not with sorrow only. We’ll remember them knowing that they join that great multitude who has been welcomed into everlasting life because of the power of God. A man in a former church named Rufus Ross gave me a small booklet full of tips for writing difficult letters. It includes an example for help in writing that most difficult of letters, the acknowledgement at the time of death. This one is from Benjamin Franklin, which he wrote to a friend who had just lost his son to suicide: We have lost a most dear and valuable friend. But it is the will of God and nature, that these mortal bodies be laid aside, when the soul is to enter into real life… Death is that way. A mangled painful limb, which cannot be restored, we willingly cut off. He who plucks out a tooth, parts with it freely, since the pain goes with it, and he who quits the whole body parts at once with all pains and possibilities of pains and diseases which it was liable to, or capable of making him suffer. Our friend and we were invited abroad on a party of pleasure, which is to last forever. His chair was ready first, and he is gone before us. We could not all conveniently start together, and why should you and I be grieved at this, since we are soon to follow and know where to find him? Their chairs were ready first, but we are soon to follow. Notice their robes and be washed in the blood of the lamb. Lean not on your own understanding or your own strength, for we are all limited in our understanding and we are all fading away like grass. May our legacy be, not what we fought for or held onto, but who we trusted. On Christ the solid rock I stand, all other ground in sinking sand. All other ground is sinking sand. Amen.

Better Than We Found It

Scripture Lessons: 1 Thessalonians 2: 1-8 and Deuteronomy 34: 1-12 Sermon Title: But You Shall Not Cross Over There Preached on 10/25/2020 What do you think was going through his mind up on Mount Nebo? What do you think Moses thought as the Lord showed him the whole land, the great plains, palm trees, and the flowing river Jordan? It was that land flowing with milk and honey which he had been looking forward to seeing. Up on the mountain he looked over into it. Surely it was with tears in his eyes that he heard the Lord saying, “This is the land of which I swore to Abraham, to Isaac, and to Jacob.” This is what you’ve been dreaming of. This is what you’ve been looking forward to. This is the vision that’s been keeping you going. Now you see it, “But you shall not cross over there.” What did that feel like? The feeling that comes to mind from my personal experience, albeit incredibly minor in comparison, is what I felt at the end of my hardest week as a camp counselor. I was a camp counselor for one summer up at Camp Cherokee on Lake Allatoona. My sister still loves that place, maybe more than any other place on earth, but for me, I was always happy to be there while also being happy to go back home once each session was over. That was especially true after the hardest session of the summer. This one week was with middle schoolers. Middle Schoolers are hard enough, but these were “serious about camping Middle Schoolers,” who actually chose to sleep in tents for the whole week, away from running water and electricity. We were a mile or so away from the main camp. We cooked all our own food. We lived in the wild, and when it was finally over, I was ready to go home. So ready that I could taste it. I sat down in my car with such relief at the thoughts of a hot shower and my own bed, only my car wouldn’t start. Do you know that feeling? You say to yourself, “It’s finally over,” but fate or bad luck or God says, “No, it’s not.” Why does that happen? What are we supposed to learn from something like that? Doesn’t it make it easier to do hard things if there is a promise of receiving a blessing in the end? What changes in your life if you accept the truth that the outcome is not guaranteed? Sometimes we act as though it were. Have you ever worked overtime in expectation of a promotion that never came? Are you pushing through this time of quarantine with the hope that a vaccine will be here in March? Guess what, there’s no guarantee. So, we must ask: Had Moses known he would never cross over into the Promised Land would he still have left Egypt? Which is sort of like asking, “Would you have moved to New Zealand back in April if you knew it was going to take us so long to get our act together?” Or thinking of not our present, but our history, “What was going on in the mind of the first 12 members of First Presbyterian Church who started meeting in an old log house in November of 1835?” Would they have left their established homes and already built churches to break ground right here had they known what it was really going to be like? Had someone told them about raids, droughts, and dysentery would they have laid the foundation that we now stand on? They were but four families who started this church: Mayes, Simpson, Hamilton, and Lemon. Leonard Simpson was one of our two first elders. He also ran the local tavern, and he died in 1856 at the age of eighty-seven, which gave him about three years to worship in the brick sanctuary that wouldn’t have been there without him. Just three years to sit in such a beautiful place for worship, a sanctuary built to seat 400 by a congregation that numbered 96 at the time. The land on which it was built was donated by Rev. John Jones, their preacher. Only it wasn’t finished until after his resignation. What was that like? What is it like to work so hard for something, yet never see it come to full bloom? What is it like to look forward to something that you never see materialize? What is it like to make sacrifices, not for yourself and your immediate gratification, but for those who come along later, maybe long after your lifetime? God’s story is a long one, but we are like grass. That’s a hard truth to accept. A friend from Tennessee, Neeley King, wrote me a line she read or heard in a sermon, or she’s so witty she probably came up with it herself: We live in a microwave society, but we have a crockpot God. That’s a hard truth to live with, maybe especially for her husband John, who used to let me know that the service was running too long by putting down his hymnal, waving his arms, and pointing to his wristwatch from his pew in the back. Like him we’re an impatient people. Scripture calls us to be patient all the time, but we can do all our Christmas shopping on-line and it will be on our doorsteps by the end of the week. People say, “Rome wasn’t built in a day,” but ask a contractor how many customers patiently wait for their renovation to be complete. The truth about humanity is that we want it now. We love immediate gratification, but so much of what we have, so many of the gifts we enjoy, were not thrown together in a moment or even a lifetime but passed down through the generations. Moses was not permitted to cross over, but when he died, generation after generation has inherited his blessing. So, “The Israelites wept for Moses in the plains of Moab thirty days.” If you can see today’s worship bulletin, that’s what’s painted on the cover. For thirty days the Israelites wept for Moses because he had brought them so far and had given them so much, yet he died before his feet could touch the Promised Land. Does that make you sad? It does me, but not if I think about it this way: a friend of mine named Roben Mounger has a rug in her house. Her grandmother started it for her when she was just a little girl. She wanted it to be in her granddaughter’s home, when she grew up, which must have seemed to little Roben, at the time, as a future so far away that it would never get here. She was just a child, and what is having her own house to a little girl other than a far-off dream? Christmas takes forever to get here when you’re young. When you’re young you’re so short-sighted that you turn a crank to make ice-cream, but it feels like ice cream might never happen. Still, it does happen, and in Roben’s house is the rug her grandmother made her. Her grandmother died before she ever saw it in there, but is a piece of her grandmother not with her always? Our daughter Lily is named after my grandmother. My paternal grandmother painted with oils, and still, whenever I smell them it’s like I’m in her house again. Some of her artwork hangs in our house, and I point them out to Lily, saying, “Your great-grandmother who you’re named after, painted that, and she would have loved you.” What does it mean to pass something like that down? What does it mean to invest in something so far into the future? I tell you, it’s this great act of faithful giving that helps us to remember that there will be a future. This year we’re completing the final phases of that capital campaign you funded two years ago. We’re going to expand the playground on Church Street. Do you know the one I’m talking about? Do you know how good it is to think about expanding that playground? Do you know how good it makes me feel to think about kids playing on it, without having to wear facemasks. Someday it will happen. Someday it’s going to be better than it is right now. Someday we’re going to look back on this moment, and we’ll tell those who can’t remember what it was like, “Yes, we really did have to wear masks. Yes, the restaurants could only do take out. Yes, the toilet paper really was all gone. Yes, we were scared, but we made it. We made it. And now, look where we are.” Moses knew where he was going, and even though he never reached it himself, I know that he died a happy man, because a congregation of 96 people built a Sanctuary that can now seat 400. Four families were so determined to have a Presbyterian Church in Marietta, GA that now we have this place and each other. Just the idea that our children might have a better life fills me with so much joy I can’t help but smile, because while I might not step into the future with them, knowing they will have a better future gives me hope. What we do today ensures that this church will be an institution which will outlive us all, and that won’t be true for all churches. Some have said that one in five will close during this pandemic, but I know that from this pulpit, the Gospel will be proclaimed by preachers who aren’t even born yet. And that from their heavenly home, the generations who came before us will rejoice knowing that this church which they invested in will be a home to their descendants in the faith, for while we are the stewards of this great legacy, we are building on what they started. I’m asking you to take your pledge card and to make an investment in the future. Why? So, we will make it another year? Sure. But more precisely, so we can pass the gift of this great place down to the coming generation, better than we found it, which is fitting, for it’s because of this place that we are better now than when He found us. Isn’t that right? Who was I when I wandered into this church as a 3rd grade kid? Who was I when I stacked bricks on a mission trip to Mexico as a high schooler? Tim Hammond, who was there on my first trip with our youth group, reminded me that inspired by our bad behavior, the van my friends and I rode in down to Mexico was nicknamed the Paddy Wagon by all the adult advisors. Well, I’ve gone from the Paddy Wagon to the Pulpit, and it’s because the Gospel I heard here has made me better than I was. How then can I not want to leave this place in better shape than I found it? We increased our pledge this year. Why? It’s because we’ve been blessed by this place, and the blessing of this place must be preserved for those kids who would be in the nursery. Will you help keep it going, for their children, and our children’s children? For I tell you that as this day turns into the next, and as the far-off tomorrow turns into the day after that, how we live now will resound through a future we’ll never set foot in. But they’ll remember the gift they received, and we will rest knowing we left this place better than we found it. Presbyterians are weird about money. We don’t like to talk about it, so I’m just going to say it as plainly as I can: Everything you have comes from God, and in Scripture we are called to give 10% of what we have away. Take your pledge card and invest a portion of what you have into this church and Her bright, ongoing future. Not only will this church be stronger and better for you having done so, but you will be stronger, better, and more hopeful for having done so. Amen.

In the Cleft of the Rock

Scripture Lessons: 1 Thessalonians 1: 1-10 and Exodus 33: 12-23 Sermon Title: In the Cleft of the Rock Preached on October 18, 2020 The Scripture Lessons you’ve just heard remind me of song we used to sing in Sunday School and then youth group. I feel sure you’re familiar with it. It’s based on Matthew chapter 7 and it goes like this: Seek ye first the kingdom of God, And his righteousness, And all these things shall be added unto you, Alleluia, alleluia. That’s the chorus. The verse I’m really thinking of after reading this Scripture Lesson from the book of Exodus is the second or third one: Ask and it shall be given unto you, Seek and ye shall find. Knock and the door shall be opened unto you, Alleluia, alleluia. We used to sing that with Vivian Stephens, who died during this epidemic, and while we haven’t yet been able to remember her at a funeral, I’ll always remember her when I think of that song or the many others she taught us to sing. Seek ye First is what we called it, and it’s wonderful to sing in a round, yet the reason I think of it now is because it calls us never to settle, but to ask. That’s what Moses did. He dared ask to see God. That was a bold thing to do, especially when you think about how easy it is to settle. When I was a kid it was easy to settle, because we didn’t always know what else was out there. For example, every once in a while, back when we were kids, maybe once a month or so, my Mom wouldn’t be home for dinner because she’d be meeting with her book club. When that happened, my Father was in charge of feeding us supper, which made supper interesting. I don’t know what it meant in your family, but for my sister, brother, and me, our Father cooking supper meant that he’d drive us to Ingle’s grocery store on Powder Spring Road. Then he’d lead us to the sardines, where he’d then say, “Pick out whatever can you want!” Could we have asked for something else for supper? I don’t know. I never thought to ask. Could we have maybe asked that he take us out to our favorite Mexican restaurant, right across the street, or maybe even to Chucky Cheese where a kid can be a kid? I don’t know, because no one ever asked. We were offered sardines and we were thankful to have them. That sounds like the right attitude for children to have, doesn’t it? Have you ever wished that your children or grandchildren would just appreciate all that they have already? Have you ever avoided running into Target with them just because you don’t want to hear them asking for more? I do all the time, only Scripture keeps pushing us and them not to settle, but to ask. Ask and it shall be given unto you, Seek and ye shall find. Knock and the door shall be opened unto you. Those are the words of Jesus, and more than that, all the really annoying people who won’t stop asking for what they want or can’t help but fight for what they believe in, rather than paint them as annoying, intitled, or ungrateful, Scripture remembers them as good examples of how we should all be. Think about it: There’s the Canaanite woman who won’t settle for the scraps that fall from the table, but boldly calls on Jesus to heal her daughter, and the Lord does. There’s the parable of the widow who returns, day after day, to the unjust judge until she receives justice. What does Jesus say about her? He said, “Will not God grant justice to his chosen ones who cry to him day and night?” So now consider Moses, who says to God, “Show me your glory, I pray.” What a bold request. Have you ever asked God for something like that? Surely, I never have. I’ve never even had to audacity to expect to be treated like a human being when I call our internet company, much less, call on God for any more than I have already. Yet, consider the song: Ask and it shall be given unto you, Seek and ye shall find. Knock and the door shall be opened unto you, Don’t settle. Keep going. Keep asking. Keep pushing. We’re on our way to something more, so fight for it. That’s what it takes. According to legend, George Frederic Handel, who, Beethoven considered the greatest composer who ever lived, wrote his most famous piece, “Messiah,” in 24 days. After completing the most famous portion of “Messiah,” the “Hallelujah Chorus,” he is reported to have said to a servant, either, “I did think I did see all Heaven before me, and the great God himself” or “I thought I saw the face of God.” Certainly, we never would have made it to the moon had humanity been satisfied just staring up at it. Presbyterian astronaut, John Glenn, gave reporters an idea of what it’s like in outer space, “To look out at this kind of creation and not believe in God is to me impossible.” What does it take then to catch a glimpse of the divine, as they did? What is required to see, if not God’s face, then a sliver of his glory? I tell you, first of all we are required to ask, though just that is hard for a lot of people to do. Sometimes I’ll meet with couples before they get married. Maybe she’ll tell me that he never considers her opinion. Then I’ll ask, “Does he know what your opinion is? Have you told him?” That’s a good place to start. Maybe he wouldn’t listen anyway, but that’s a good place to start, because talking with your mother about him probably isn’t going to change anything. I’ve been reading the paper a lot lately, and it has me thinking about how sometimes, it’s like we’re afraid to ask directly, that maybe we’re afraid to say what it is that we really want in the presence of those who might give it to us. An old newspaper man named Sam Kennedy, who ran the local paper back in Tennessee, once told me, “If you want to know the true nature of your community, always read the letters to the editor.” There I’ve been reading about all kinds of stuff. Lately, I’ve read about political yard signs getting stolen or vandalized, months ago it was frustration with the local schools not opening their classrooms for in-person learning. My general reflection based on many of these letters to the editor is that we are a society who has such trouble talking with people who think differently that we use forums like this one as a way to vent because we’re too scared to talk with each other face to face. Now, Dan Kirk never vents like that in his letters to the editor. I don’t know if you ever read what he writes, but you should. Interestingly, our own Dan Kirk just writes in to remind us to be grateful for how lucky we are, but that’s beside the point. By and large I believe we settle for venting to the newspaper when we could be speaking our concerns to the people who could do something about it. When I think of such behavior, I worry that we’re settling for ranting when we could be moving forward. We wind up feeling helpless and frustrated when we could be working for a brighter future. We grow used to yelling and finger-pointing and call it governance. We allow our neighbors to do as they please, even when it drives us crazy, because it’s easier to go back inside to watch TV rather than ask them to put on a mask, turn down their music, or just come over for dinner. Why do we go back to watching TV, why do we put our heads down minding our own business, when we could be asking for more? We’d never have gotten to the moon if we hadn’t learned to work together, and we’ll never make it to the Promised Land if we don’t start moving towards each other now. That’s why I think the most important quote of all when it comes to glimpsing the divine as Moses, Handel, or John Glenn did is that of Victor Hugo, the play write of Les Misérables, who is reported to have said, “to love another person is to see the face of God.” Maybe that’s the greatest frontier. Maybe that’s the place where so many of us end up settling for less. It’s so hard to love someone. It requires nearly everything of us. Think about Moses. He killed the Egyptian and lost his home in the palace. Why? Because he loved his people. He left his home in the wilderness to answer a call from God to set his people free. Why? Because he couldn’t bear the thought of their suffering. He faced Pharaoh with nothing more than a staff in his hand. He led them out of slavery and through the waters of the sea, just trusting that God would provide a way. They got hungry and he was bold to ask for food. They got thirsty and he was bold to ask for water. They kept complaining about him, and he was bold to ask God to love them anyway. Love kept pushing him to do more and to be more, and even though they were like five year old’s on a long road trip, even though every five minutes one had to stop and use the bath room. On this long road trip that lasted 40 long years, so long that even God had had enough, saying to Moses, “I will not go up among you [to the Promised Land], or I would consume you on the way, for you are a stiff-necked people.” Moses says to the Lord, “please, stay with us.” “And just let me see your glory.” You know what we settle for? Living in a country with people we don’t agree with. Getting along with neighbors who we can’t understand and who might be stealing our political yard signs. We settle for putting up with, tolerating, just getting through this election without ringing someone’s neck, but do you know what the Gospel demands of us? Love your neighbor as yourself. The time has come, to ask for more out of our country, who made it to the moon years ago, but today can’t seem to engage in civil discourse. The time has come to ask more from ourselves who can read about what’s happening all around the world, but don’t always know what’s happening across the street. The time has come for us to ask more of our neighbors, who may need to be reminded, that while we are free to do all kinds of things, we are never free to hate. With boldness, let us dare ask for more. In doing so, if we do so out of love, we’ll see the face of God.