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.

The Golden Calf Takes and Takes and Takes

Scripture Lessons: Philippians 4: 1-9 and Exodus 32: 1-14 Sermon Title: The Golden Calf Takes and Takes and Takes Preached on: October 11, 2020 It’s really something what people will get into when left to their own devices, isn’t it? Every parent knows it. Every teacher knows it. Every dog owner knows it. Moses turns his back, and then, “But I’ve only been gone for a few minutes, and this is what you’ve done!” You can’t turn your back on people. You can’t turn your back on children, dogs, grown-ups, or anyone. That’s just the way that it is. So, I think glitter should be outlawed. Don’t you? Have you ever had that experience with glitter? If you don’t supervise children with glitter, you’ll find it in your underwear. I was standing around lacrosse practice yesterday and a mother told me that her daughter had emptied out a bottle of glitter and a bag of kitty-litter on their floor. She’ll be finding little surprises around her house years from now, because when people are left alone with glitter or anything else, you had better give them firm instructions or they’ll just start doing something, and that something is almost certainly not going to do them or you any long-term good. Left alone, we just get into too much trouble and we waste too much time. I saw the most effective advertising campaign that I’ve ever seen the other day. It’s for an app you can get on your phone called Dual lingo. It’s been helping me learn Spanish, but what got me was their slogan: “In 15 minutes a day you can learn a second language. What is 15 minutes of social media going to get you?” Not all of you spend time on social media. The main one if Facebook, but there are several tools for keeping up with your friends and spying on your children out there. They’re all a great way to share vacation photos, and they can be a great way for people to stay connected in this season of almost forced isolation, but they can also be a really big waste of time, or worse. Someone said, “I have an app on my phone that tells me which of my relatives are racist. It’s called Facebook.” That’s a funny joke because people post their opinions and their thoughts right there on Facebook for anyone to see, and some of their opinions and thoughts should never have seen the light of day. People need supervision. Moses shouldn’t have left them alone. Look at all the trouble they got into. When the people saw that Moses delayed to come down from the mountain, the people gathered around Aaron, and said to him, “Come, make gods for us…for this Moses, the man who brought us up out of the land of Egypt, we do not know what has become of him.” [So, then] Aaron said to them, “Take off your gold rings and bring them to me.” He took the gold from them, formed it in a mold, and cast an image of a calf; and they said, “These are your gods, O Israel, who brought you up out of the land of Egypt!” This is the strangest thing in the world for people to do, but it’s what we all keep doing again and again and again. We run out of things to do so we get up to something, and that something is not necessarily good for us or anyone else. I’ve been reading a book by Bill Bryson about growing up in the 50’s. He wrote that television wasn’t any good back then. There might only be two or three channels, so he’d have to entertain himself. Long periods of the day were devoted to just seeing what would happen – what would happen if you pinched a match head while it was still hot or made a vile drink and took a sip of it or focused a white-hot beam of sunlight with a magnifying glass on your Uncle Dick’s bald spot while he was napping. Moses left the Israelites alone and so they find something to do. Likewise, with a few minutes to spare some of us scroll through social media on our phones, others start thinking about how nice it would be to get out on the lake in our own boat. Our minds wander, we get distracted, as my friend James Fleming always says: “there are 24 hours in a day and you have to fill them with something.” Only here’s the thing, what’s the return on how we are spending our time? How does scrolling through your friend’s vacation pictures make you feel after 15 minutes? Have you heard the expression: “The two happiest days for a boat owner are the day he buys it and the day he sells it”? We’re all looking for something to do. We all keep shopping for something. But what have we found? What does the Golden Calf give in return for our gold? That’s the question that must be asked, for on the other hand: God delivered the people from slavery in Egypt. He divided the sea so that they could walk through on dry land. When they were hungry, God provided them manna. Thirsty, God made water come out of a rock. As they looked for direction, God provided them with 10 Commandments, but what do they do when Moses turns his back for just a minute? Our God gives and gives and gives, but we wander away to spend our time doing what we shouldn’t. Knowing that’s just human nature I urge you to ask yourself, what is the return on all your hobbies and vices? For our God delivers, forgives, and fills the emptiness in our souls, but what about that vacation home? What about all those devices? Where are you putting your energy? On what are you spending your money? And are you getting a good return on your investment? Last week I heard Cassie’s sermon twice. I thought it was brilliant each time I heard it, especially this line: “from the laws we learn the character of the law maker,” and from the laws that God provided, from the 10 Commandments that Moses brought down from the mountain, we see that God is in a relationship with us so that we might thrive, prosper, and never again suffer under the weight of slavery to anything. Why then do we keep on bowing down before golden claves and new pharaohs, believing their empty promises and expecting them to deliver us when we already know who has set us free? It's a foolish thing to go looking for happiness in a boat. It’s a foolish thing to go looking for connection through social media. It’s a foolish thing to expect deliverance from a politician. But we keep doing it. We keep doing all of it, because when we’re left to our own devices, we do strange and foolish things. Glitter just gets all over the place. Or worse. In this consumer culture of ours people spend money that they don’t have. Why? Because someone told them that money would buy them happiness, and they believed it. In our celebrity culture some place superhuman expectations on the shoulders of mere mortals. Why? Because of their campaign promises, which we never should have believed. This is campaign season for some of the politicians in our church, and what I want them to know is that I’m praying for them because they are taking on a role of absolute servanthood. On the other hand, the ones who make being a politician look bad have forgotten that they were elected to serve the people, not manipulate them. Remember then to ask: who are you serving and what are you getting in return? I’ve told you about a man who bought acers and acers of land out west. He made all this money so he could get away from it all. He built this beautiful house way out in the wilderness. His son went to visit him and he said, “My father has built the most beautiful prison the world has ever seen.” We keep giving our gold to the Golden Calf, but the Golden Calf can’t give us anything in return. Do you know that? The Lord who delivered us from Egypt tells us to give 10% of what we have away. Do you know what kind of person actually does that? Surely you don’t know who gives what to the church, and we shouldn’t, but I’ve met some of the most philanthropic people, so now I know how to spot them. You’ll be able to spot them too if you know what to look for. Think of the most joyful person you’ve ever met. Think of the person who always has a smile on her face or a spring in his step. Think of the one who never complains and who exudes hope. That’s the person who’s giving away their money to something good rather than laying it at the feet of a golden calf. The Golden Calf makes empty promises and is glad to take your gold. His priests have these great big billboards from here to Chattanooga: buy an RV and have a happy family, buy a boat and set yourself free, buy happiness, buy joy, buy fulfillment – it won’t work. Some people spend more money on cable TV than they give to the church. What’s the return on that investment? The Golden Calf will take your money while offering sitcoms in return. On the other hand, the real God keeps saying, “give it away and find joy.” Guess what, it works every time. I think about the movie Schindler’s List. Do you remember what he does at the end of that movie? At the end of that movie he sees that there’s a ring on his finger. A gold ring. And he says, “How many people could this have saved?” It’s so strange what people will do with gold. Before you spend your next dollar, be sure to think about what you’re getting in return, because the golden calf takes and takes and takes without giving anything back to your soul, but what about God? Our God is faithful to us. Our God has proven himself to us. So why don’t we listen? It reminds me of a new minister who was trying to enter the Presbytery of Middle Tennessee. Before a new minister can serve a church in a new presbytery he or she must be examined on the floor in front of every other minister and so many elders. Some of the questions they get asked are hard to answer, but at some point or another every new minister trying to enter the Presbytery of Middle Tennessee will be asked as this one was, “Do you love Jesus?” The new pastor was nervous, but with confidence he said, “Yes I do, but not nearly as much as he loves me.” There’s a lot to balance when it comes to your time and your treasure, but I tell you that you must make God your first priori ty, because you are always His. And if you do with what you have according to his commandments, you’ll only have more of the joy that he’s promised. And now and finally: Whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is pleasing, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence and if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things. Keep on doing the things that you have learned and received and heard and seen, and the God of peace will be with you. Now and forever, Amen.

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.