Who is holding up your arms?

Scripture Lessons: Philippians 2: 1-13 and Exodus 17: 1-13 Preached on September 27, 2020 Sermon Title: Who is holding up your arms? There was a wonderful article in the paper last Sunday written by the dean of St. Phillip’s Cathedral downtown. He’s the very Reverend Samuel G. Candler. (I’d like to know how I might become the very Rev. Joe Evans, but that’s not the point I want to get to.) Living up to his title, this article was very good, nearly as good as the one our own Rev. Cassie Waits wrote for the Marietta paper last week, and in it the Very Rev. Samuel G. Candler claimed that among the long list of essential businesses that we just can’t get by without during this pandemic season is the church. You might not call the church a business, but his argument is that what we do, especially in this hour is essential. That faith gatherings are essential to life, and not just essential to our spiritual lives. Here’s a quote from his article: By faith gatherings, I do not mean just the transmission of our teaching or our latest social ethic. Teachings and social positions very, from generation to generation. What is essential about our established religious gatherings is our practice of gathering spiritually with people who are different from us. Think about it. How often does that really happen? This week we announced a phased reopening for in-person worship to start next Sunday with the first quarter of our congregation being invited. I’m excited about that, but regardless of where or how you worship, whether at home with our virtual service which will continue or at the in-person service which will be a little different (someone said “Sanitized) to prevent the spread of the virus, the act of a large group of people doing something together stands in stark contrast to so much of what we’ve been seeing lately. This week we were invited to celebrate our daughter Lily’s volleyball season. Her team had to conform to a set of rules so there were masks and temperature checks. However, the parents who wore a mask all ended up on one side while the parents who didn’t want to were on the other. The ones with their noses sticking out were kind of in the middle. We were all at the same event but even there we were divided. Consider how essential worship is. When the politicians gather, they are divided by an aisle, but in here we all gather together to bow our heads before the One God and Father of us all. While different signs decorate our front yards, here we affirm what we all have in common. Churches are filled with different kinds of people who might attend different kinds of rallies, but in this room we all stand to make one common statement of faith, “I believe in God the Father almighty, maker of heaven and earth.” It’s a rare thing when a group of people can all agree on one statement about anything, and yet here, in this room, it happens Sunday after Sunday. We do it again and again, week after week, standing all at once to say what we believe. In our world today such communal acts are essential. Why? Because the evil one is doing everything in his power to convince us that we don’t have anything in common. We know now that when we read articles on the internet, more articles that we might agree with are suggested, so that we continue reading what we already agree with without having to read anything that we disagree with. Without exposure to opposing opinions we build up a kind of false confidence about how wise we are. Therefore, the Very Reverend considers gathering for worship with people we don’t agree with to be essential. Here in this room we first all stand together and pray a prayer boldly claiming that none of us has it right. This morning we confessed together: I am too self-righteous for my own good. Refusing to apologize, I never get beyond my mistakes. So sure that I’m not broken, I fail to be healed Joe Brice told us that he was worried about leading that prayer because he thought folks would be saying, “Yea, Joe, that sounds about right. You need to be praying that prayer.” Only, I’m the one who wrote it and I wrote that prayer because I know who I am. I’m not perfect, but I’m afraid to admit it. I don’t like being wrong, even though I often am. I’m happy being around people who agree with me, however I’m worse off when I live in such an echo chamber. Even more than that, I know that my soul is in jeopardy when there’s no one there to disagree with me and save me from myself. In the words of the Very Reverend: When we begin to lose… community, our voices become more random and untethered. In fact, we become idiots. Do we know what an idiot is? [We think] an idiot is someone who is dumb or stupid. Instead, the true meaning of the word “idiot” (coming from the Greek, meaning “one’s own) is someone who can think only within his or her own mindset, unable to see the world from another’s perspective. Do you know someone like that? Do you resemble someone like that? There’s a plaque that hangs in our kitchen: The opinions of the husband in this house do not necessarily represent those of the management. Our household is blessed by two opinions, two people who make decisions, not always unilaterally. Likewise, today, as we gather for worship let us rejoice in the truth that we are doing something together and that none of us is perfect, all knowing, or has it all figured out. This time of worship is something like an AA Meeting. In AA the only requirement is admitting that you have a problem you can’t fix on your own. In worship the only requirement is that we admit we have a problem with sin that we can’t solve ourselves. There’s no shame in admitting such limitations, for even Moses needed help. There’s bumper sticker: even Moses started out as a basket case. Have you seen that one? It’s true, and as he grew up he kept needing a little help. It’s there in our Second Scripture Lesson. Did you notice it? We’ve been in Exodus for weeks, both literally and figuratively. We’ve been reading from the book of Exodus since late August while our lives have been somewhere in-between what we once considered normal and what our new normal will become. Something important to remember about the Israelites in the book of Exodus is that while they were out Egypt but not yet in the Promised Land they really complained a lot. Last Sunday Rev. Cassie Waits reflected on how they complained until God provided them with food to eat. That satisfied them for a little while, but now they’re thirsty: From the wilderness of Sin, the whole congregation of the Israelites journeyed by stages, as the Lord commanded. They camped at Rephidim, but there was no water for the people to drink. The people quarreled with Moses, and said, “Give us water to drink.” Moses said to them, “Why do you quarrel with me? Why do you test the Lord?” But the people thirsted there for water; and the people complained against Moses and said, “Why did you bring us out of Egypt, to kill us and our children and livestock with thirst?” Maybe that right there is a lesson for us in and of itself. How many miracles had they received by this time? There were 10 full on plagues in Egypt, God divided the water of an entire sea, provided food for them out of thin air, and still they complained. If your kids are whinny, they’re probably not half as ungrateful as the Israelites were. These Israelites complained and complained and complained. So, Moses cried out to the Lord, “What shall I do with this people?” But the Lord said to Moses (and this is what I really want to emphasize), “Go on ahead of the people, and take some of the elders of Israel with you… Strike the rock, and water will come out of it, so that the people may drink.” Maybe you’ve heard this story before, of Moses striking the rock and God again providing this complaining people with exactly what they were asking for, but have you ever noticed that Moses wasn’t allowed to go strike the rock alone? Then, when Amalek came and fought with Israel, Moses sent out Joshua to choose some men to go and fight, but whenever Moses raised up his hands Joshua and the troops would prevail while when Moses lowered his hands, Amalek prevailed, so: They took a stone and put it under him, and he sat on it. Aaron and Hur held up his hands, one on one side, and the other on the other side; so, his hands were steady until the sun set. And Joshua defeated Amalek and his people with the sword. Even Moses couldn’t do it on his own. He had to take elders with him out to strike the rock. He needed Aaron and Hur to hold up his hands. Why then do some Republicans think that our country will be better if we get rid of all the Democrats and why do some Democrats think that we’ll have achieved utopia once all the Republicans are out of office? Why do we all have at least one person in our lives who we hope won’t show up at Thanksgiving Dinner? Why do we seek uniformity? Why do we fear disagreements? Why are we so sure we have it right and they have it wrong? It’s because we all suffer from self-righteousness. We all want to do it all on our own. However, there’s only One in human history who could have, and he chose not to. Our Second Scripture Lesson from the book of Philippians says it this way: Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility regard others as better than yourselves. Let each of you look not on your own interests, but to the interests of others. Let the same mind be in you that was in 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. Did you hear that? I could complain about the state of our union today so much that you would mistake me for an Israelite, so let me just say this: there’s a lot to be worried about these days. We have a lot of work to do. And may that work begin with us, all trying to look more like Him and less like the world. Last week I opened up a fortune cookie and there, on the slip of paper I read: “You would do well to work as a team in the coming weeks.” After the week I’ve had, I know for a fact that I wouldn’t have made it had it not been exactly that way. So many people are holding my arms up. Far too many for me to think for a minute that I can pastor this church all on my own, but what about you? Who is holding your arms up? Who is keeping your world from falling apart? Who is delivering your Amazon packages, keeping your lights on, changing your sheets, doing your laundry, cutting your grass, paving your road, or stocking your grocery shelves? Who is saving you from yourself? Who confronts you when you’re wrong? Who stops you before you run right off that cliff? Who has given you enough grace to cover up all those broken places? No one is an island, so accept the help he provides and the accept the truth that we all need each other. Amen.

Do Not be Afraid, Stand Firm, and See

Scripture Lessons: Romans 14: 7-12 and Exodus 14: 5-14 Sermon Title: Do not be afraid, stand firm, and see Preached on September 13, 2020 In the middle of a crisis, no one naturally knows what to do, so should our children catch on fire, hopefully we’ve already taught them to, “stop, drop, and roll,” or, if they come across a gun: “don’t touch, run away, and tell a grown up.” That’s what we teach our children to do, but then, the second a snowflake falls we buy out the grocery store. How long have we been buying out the grocery store now? I read an article by a Mississippian named Matthew Magee in a magazine called Okra (not the person, the vegetable). He wrote that on March 15th: My adrenaline kicked in and off I went to the local grocery store with the intent of stocking up on essentials and all manner of junk food. I may have overreacted by buying a 25 lb. bag of rice which is still sitting in my pantry... I remember telling myself to calm down and quit being so dramatic. Words of wisdom from Mister Rogers came to me, “When I was a boy and I would see scary things in the news, my mother would say to me, ‘Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping’.” So that’s what I did. I went to the helper aisle – the Hamburger Helper aisle, that is. I stood there observing all the variety boxes of Hamburger Helper with the wonderful childhood mascot Lefty, the Helping Hand, smiling back at me… I started thinking that this shelter in place was meant to flatten the curve of COVID-19 not fatten the curves to gain 19. We all did some version of that back in March. Now it’s September. For many of us this has been one long six months of persistent panic and anxiety. For others, there’s been illness and worry about those who are sick. Some have lost loved ones without being able to have a funeral. Then for others, there’s boiling-over frustration with a disease that on the one hand, causes no worse symptoms than the common cold, while on the other hand, has killed nearly 200,000 Americans. My friends, we’re still in the midst of a crisis we don’t know how to deal with. So, on this special Sunday, when we remember our Presbyterian roots in Scotland, celebrating tradition and heritage, let us look back on our legacy of faith to learn from one great hero who faced a far worse crisis that we might gain some perspective on the one we face today. Let us look to Moses, who stood among the panicked Israelites with peace of mind even as the Egyptians were on their heels. I can almost see him. He led them out of Egypt just days before. Then as the Egyptian horde approached, Moses stood there with his feet in the sand, for on the one side was the army and on his other side was the sea. I imagine the waves were breaking against his knees while the Egyptians were breathing down his neck. And it wasn’t just a few of them. It was six hundred hand-picked chariots, plus all the others. As though he weren’t merciless already, Pharaoh’s heart was hardened. He told his army to charge, determined to stop at nothing to bring his source of free labor back to the mines or brick factories, even if he had to kill half of them first. This is a terrifying situation for any leader to find himself in, only to make matters worse, the Israelite people cried out to Moses, “Why have you taken us out here? To die in the wilderness? Were there not enough graves in Egypt? Is that why you took us out here?” I can understand their panic. They were unarmed, untrained, and on foot. You can imagine the chariots circling on one side, the ocean on their other. These people were pinned in, before and behind asking: Where is there to turn? Where is there to go? What are we to do? In response to their panic, Moses said to the people, “Do not be afraid, stand firm, and see.” “See the deliverance that the Lord will accomplish for you today; for the Egyptians whom you see today you shall never see again. The Lord will fight for you, and you have only need to keep still.” Do you know how counter intuitive that kind of advice is? It’s like the others. It’s right, but it calls us to do something contrary to ordinary human behavior. If we were roasting marshmallows and your sleeve caught on fire, the first thing most people would do is to run. In a panic we all might run, which would only feed the flame. Likewise, any curious child who comes across a gun; the first thing he’ll want to do is pick it up, with no idea of how powerful or how much damage the gun might do. Therefore, we all teach our children from a very young age: stop, drop, and roll. Don’t touch, run away, tell a grown up. Why then do we all have 25-pound bags of rice in our pantries and attics filed with toilet paper? It’s because, like the Israelites before us, when we get afraid, we all have a voice inside our heads which says, “Don’t just stand there, do something!” However, “Don’t just stand there, do something,” only clears out the grocery store shelves, and rushing to reopen only fills up the hospitals for neither panic nor denial will get us out of this. So, first, Moses told the people, “Do not be afraid.” The Bible commands us, “do not fear” or “do not be afraid” enough times for every day of the year. That’s right, about 365 times Scripture tells us to concur our fear. Why? Because people who are afraid give up too easy. They play into the enemy’s hand because they quit before they’ve even tried. Think about it. Young men who fear rejection never ask the pretty girl out on a date. Little girls who are scared of spending the night away from home miss out on summer camp. The one who takes the game winning shot can’t let fear get the best of her or the game is already over. While the one who takes a good look at the situation without allowing it to throw her into a panic will take a breath and let the ball fly. Denial makes us like sheep, led to the slaughter. Fear helps us quit, keeps us quiet, and holds us captive. Either way, should we deny the facts or allow them to terrify us, we’re right where the Evil One wants us: ignorant, foolish, then sick; or hopeless, silent, and easy to control. “Do not fear,” Moses said to the people. Why? Because fear would have them surrender before the real journey to freedom had even started. Worse than that, fear would have put them all right into the hands of Pharaoh and blinded them to what was about to happen next. In a time like this one, we can’t be afraid. Do you think scared men wear kilts? No! We can’t be afraid, or we’ll give up when the vaccine could be here tomorrow. We can’t be afraid because the sea may open up right before us. We can’t be afraid because fear gives Pharaoh too much power. More than that, we can’t be afraid because scared people run. “Stand firm,” Moses told the people. “Don’t run. Don’t just do something. Don’t panic. Stand firm.” Did you know that lions roar in the hopes of scattering the heard so that they can gang up on the one separated from the rest? Together and unified the pray can defend themselves, but if fear has them separating and isolating then it’s over. So, it is with us. In this moment of crisis, the partisan divide grows worse. Of course, it does. In a state of panic, we long for easy answers and scapegoats, rather than things like compromise or discussion which take too long. People cry out: “Someone needs to do something!” “What if it’s the wrong thing?” “Who cares!” That is what some say, only this is a time for standing firm and staying together, for we will not live to see what happens next if we turn on each other now. Those who seek easy answers or for someone to blame have abandoned their principles. Rather than lose ourselves as they have, let us stand firmly on who God calls us to be, defining ourselves by that high standard of “love your neighbor as yourself.” “Do not be afraid, stand firm, and see” Moses said. “See what?” I can hear the people ask. “Who knows?” would have been Moses’ answer, for it could be anything for God’s hand will not be confined by our feeble imaginations. We only know the shape of the miracle after it’s been revealed, so what Moses’ example demands of us today is that we simply be open to God doing once again what He promised He would. Do you believe it? I believe in the sun even when it’s not shining. I believe in love even when I don’t feel it. I believe in God even when God is silent. That’s what life demands of us today. Some would call it faith, and for generations and generations, such a legacy has been passed down to us. On this Sunday when we remember our roots in Scotland, I don’t care if you’re Scottish or not. Regardless of your genetics, follow the example of faithful people like Moses. Take on the legacy of Scotland as though you were the granddaughter of William Wallace. Remember that the Queen of England feared the prayers of that great Scottish Presbyterian John Knox more than all the assembled armies of Europe. Know that ours is a legacy of stubborn defiance and unrelenting hope, for while England outlawed bagpipes, kilts, and the native language of our fore parents, they snuck in patches of their family’s plaid tartans to be blessed by God, longing for His blessing more than they feared any human power who tried to keep them down. When we hear those notes which opened our worship service which make up that great anthem, Scotland the Brave, may your blood boil at those who have hid from us the truth, believing nothing could be done, for we are never powerless, nor are we helpless in the face of overwhelming adversity. Because ours is God who divided the sea. Ours is the mighty God who is working His purpose out, even now. Do not be afraid, stand firm, and see. Amen.

History Repeats Itself, As Does Deliverance

Scripture Lessons: Romans 13: 8-14 and Exodus 12: 1-14 Sermon Title: History Repeats Itself, As Does Deliverance Preached on September 6, 2020 When I got dressed last Monday morning I put on my funeral suit. I didn’t have a funeral to go to, but the occasion warranted my funeral suit. Maybe you heard, that someone or some small group of people spray painted swastikas on fences and on the sides of buildings nearby an East Cobb synagogue. As this synagogue, Temple Kol Emeth, is one of the religious groups we partner with to build homes through Habitat for Humanity, I was invited to join a group of politicians, police officers, preachers, rabbis, imams, and journalists there. We all assembled to show our support to the temple and her congregation and to openly stand against those signs of hatred which remind us of what human beings are capable of when we fail to love our neighbors as ourselves. It just happens too often, doesn’t it? If you google the word “genocide” a list comes up. This list includes Hindus, Muslims, Hutus, Tutsis, Irish, Palestinians, Bosnians, Croats, Tamils, Tartars, and a long list of indigenous people who were murdered with abandon. Certainly, the Nazi’s are the most notorious. They’re by no means alone, but they’re the group we think of when remembering hatred and evil. The sign of the swastika reminds all of us of that nightmare when especially Jews, but also gypsies, homosexuals, pols, and anyone else who was considered less than human was herded up into concentrations camps to be exterminated. Today, most of us see the swastika and remember what should never happen again, but has, and could. So, I put on my funeral suit and drove over to the synagogue. Everybody was there. We assembled in the part of the temple we Presbyterians would call the narthex. I walked in with an imam. We were both running a little late. We made it inside just as it started raining. He had been asked to speak and I hadn’t, but (this is what I want to emphasize) either one of us could have because we people of faith have been trained to respond to those moments in human life that defy easy explanation. We have been given the words to say to people when there are no words We know what to do when it seems like there’s nothing that anyone can do. We religious people testify to a hope that defies explanation. The way Tom Long described it in his great book about the funeral is that at the grave there are generally too preachers. One is death and his sermon is always the same. From the depths of the tomb he says, “This is the end. It’s all over. There is no more to say.” However, at the grave there often stands another preacher who reminds those assembled of the one who rose again. He or she points to the light that shines in the darkness. The ancient words we say are those of a love that can never be conquered, an everlasting life that has no end, and a great company of saints who join the living and the dead in signing a bold Halleluiah. Our funeral liturgy is no different than our Second Scripture Lesson. It’s a list of instructions for what to say and how to do it that we remember that while history repeats itself, so does deliverance: Every household in the assembled congregation of Israel shall take part. They shall have a lamb of their own unless they are too small a family and need to share with their neighbors. Divide it in proportion to the number of people who shall eat of it. The lamb should be without blemish, a year-old male from the sheep or from the goats. Keep it until the fourteenth day of the month. Slaughter it at twilight. “This day shall be a day of remembrance for you. You shall celebrate it as a festival to the Lord throughout your generations.” Why? So, that every year you remember again that just when you start to think that the light is about to go out God may choose to show up once again. Don’t forget that. Don’t forget something so important in a time like this one. But it’s easy to. I walked into that synagogue last Monday morning wondering what anyone could say. What do you say when hatred rears its ugly head once again? But the group knew. We were there together. First the rabbi quoted Elie Wiesel. Then he read from the Torah, and one by one the politicians, police chief, pastors, rabbis, and imams, went to the microphone to say the same thing, again and again: “death will not have the final word today.” Hatred will not rise up unanswered. The swastika might have been spray painted on our walls and fences, but it has already been painted over by this community’s love. Because of such words, by the time I left I could see clearly again, that as the Apostle Paul said, “While there is evil in the world, evil will be overcome by good. Salvation is nearer to us now than when we first began” for the night is gone, the day is near. But we must do something in order to remember. So, God gave Moses the instructions. What we’ve just read in our Second Scripture Lesson is more than a story. It’s more than history. It’s interactive. Its what preachers call liturgy. What we have in this 12th chapter of the book of Exodus is a way to remember that God is at work in the world. It’s a rhythm. It’s a process. It’s a routine that helps us all to taste and see that God is good. It reminds me of a moment I just read about. I just finished reading a book about a man who drove to a wine bar, drank two bottles, got punched in the face by the bartender, got into his car, was pulled over immediately, refused the breathalyzer, got locked up, had to call his little brother to come pick him up, then he threw up on the way home. That’s a depressing story, isn’t it? It made me want to put on my funeral suit, only in the book, that night at the dinner table his mother took his face in her hands and said, “You are loved.” That’s powerful. Still, you can imagine what he said. He said, “Mom, I know.” “No,” she says. “You don’t know. You won’t ever know. And that’s okay. It’s not your job to know. It’s your job to be loved.” After that the words started to sink in. That’s what it takes, isn’t it? Not just the words but hearing them said more than once. Plus, the motions, the actions, over and over again, year after year, maybe even day after day. It’s what should be happening for every child in every family. I was standing outside a church one afternoon with a public defender in Columbia, Tennessee. She asked, “Do you know what every solid family in this town has in common?” “No, I don’t,” I admitted. Then she gave a simple, yet profound answer, “Every solid family in this town has a table. Maybe it’s a kitchen table. Maybe it’s a dining room table. Maybe it’s just a card table that they have to fold out and sit around, but they do, night after night for the evening meal. I have always known that for a family to stay connected and for children to be reminded that they’re loved, there has to be a place where everyone gathers around to be fed, not just in body but in spirit.” Have you ever thought about that? My friends, it may feel like the darkness is growing out in the world. Hate crimes are up 19% in our country. There’s division and discord. Worse still is all the indifference. I hear people saying, “I’m just done. And what can I do about it anyway?” What can any of us do about it? What is there to say? Every year God told the people: Gather around, take a lamb, divide it up, eat it together, and remember that I delivered you from oppression in Egypt. Gather around the table, look into the faces of the people who you love, the people who love you. Feed them, listen to them, and remember the God who provided the food that’s there and know that we are never abandoned, nor is our God indifferent to our worries or our suffering. My friends, there’s a table set for us today. The rules are simple enough. Maybe how we do it is a little different, but with a little imagination we all know it’s still the same. There’s bread and the fruit of the vine. We gather around it together in this very hour as a family of faith, and the one who set this table for us not only joins us here to serve as host but gave us everything that we would be fed and saved. Take and eat, he said, this is my body given for you. Drink, my blood shed for the forgiveness of sins. Do these things, and know that you are loved. Do these things and remember the one who will conquer all, defeating the powers of sin and death, risen to rule the world. In these troubled times do not forget that while history may repeat itself, so does deliverance. Thanks be to God. Amen.