Amongst the Philosophers

The people at The First U.P. Church of Crafton Heights are spending much of the 2023-2024 academic year looking at the story of God’s people as recorded in the New Testament book of Acts.  We engage in this series of messages convinced of the fact that God’s power changes apparently small and nondescript groups of people into a force that will change the world in ways that are reflective of the love and justice of Jesus.  On May 12 we wandered with Paul through the streets of ancient Athens and listened to him boldly proclaim the inclusive Gospel of Jesus.  You can read it for yourself in Acts 17.

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We are continuing with our year-long reading of the Book of Acts.  Last week, we left Paul in a Philippian jail, having noted that this Greek town was the first community in all of Europe to hear the Gospel of Jesus.  We saw that Christ’s message of liberation and inclusivity conflicted with the economic and political status quo in that burg, and so measures were taken to silence Paul.  He was beaten, arrested, and imprisoned.  The final verses of Acts 16, which we didn’t read last week, detail a miraculous escape from prison which leads to the conversion and baptism of the Philippian jailer.  Once that happens, Paul and Silas are hustled out of town.

Today, we find the team in Thessalonica, a port just southwest of Philippi.  Upon entering, Paul uses the same strategy he’s employed elsewhere and looks for a Jewish synagogue in which to begin his preaching.  He discovers, however, that the religious folks in Thessalonica are really happy with “that old-time religion”, and they’re not looking for change.  They point out, correctly, I should say, that the message of Jesus is “turning the world upside down.”

Like their brethren in Philippi, the Thessalonians call in the authorities, and this time, there’s a new charge added.  These Jesus-followers are not patriotic enough.  Paul and his companions, by virtue of their faith practices, are dangerous to the community’s political identity.

The hypocrisy here is stunning, by the way.  Jews had long had trouble in the Roman Empire because they refused to acknowledge that the emperor was divine.  Here in Thessalonica, a few folks are energizing a mob by saying that those who preach the Gospel of Jesus are not good Romans.

If the plot of this movie sounds familiar to you, well, trust me, it’s because you’ve seen it before.

You saw it back in Volume I of this work, the Gospel of Luke, when a bunch of religious leaders who felt threatened by Jesus thought that they could pull a fast one and get rid of him.  They asked him whether it was lawful to pay taxes to Caesar.  Jesus responded, as you might recall, by inviting the men to produce a coin – a piece of metal which bore the graven image of Caesar on it, by the way.  He pointed out that God is bigger than the Empire, and that they should go ahead and give Caesar what was already his. The strategy of these religious leaders was not truly to profess faith, but appeal to nationalism and politics to attack someone they saw as a rival.

You saw this same story back in the fifteenth century.  The good people of Spain claimed to be concerned about the spread of heresy – false teaching in the Christian church.  They created a judicial system known as the Spanish Inquisition, which was allegedly created to point out and correct this false teaching, but whose true purpose was to consolidate power and authority under King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella.  In the name of Jesus, that nation executed or expelled countless Jews and Muslims because they were not “real” Spaniards.

And if all of that is too much ancient history for you, you saw this same phenomenon a few years ago when on January 6, 2021 a group of protestors stormed the US Capitol.  These folks were holding bibles aloft, waving Christian flags, and stepped into the Senate Chamber, where they offered this prayer:

“Thank you for allowing the United States of America to be reborn. Thank you for allowing us to get rid of the communists, the globalists, and the traitors within our government. We love you and we thank you. In Christ’s holy name we pray. Amen.”

The idea to which these “protestors” were clinging, that the United States must be reborn in Christ’s name, is central to a philosophy known as Christian Nationalism.  This mindset holds that one group’s views of truth, morality, and so on are given to that group directly by God and ought to be enforced by the power of legislation.  Anyone who departs from this “divine” understanding must suffer civil and criminal penalties as a result.

  As we continue to read in this ancient text of Acts, and as we walk through life in the 21st century, beloved, let me beg you to pay attention when people talk about God or Jesus endorsing specific candidates, platforms, and ideologies, and how it is in fact their God-given duty to impose their understandings on the rest of society.

Make no mistake: the Gospel of Jesus Christ does have political ramifications.  The word “politics” means a set of activities that determine how groups of people make decisions and share power with one another.  Here, in Acts, we see how the message that Paul preached upset some people who were enjoying power and prestige at the expense of someone else.  The liberation that Paul preached then became a threat to the privileged – and so Paul had to be silenced.

Paul leaves Thessalonica, and he arrives in Berea, where the same story repeats itself.  He starts preaching about the reconciliation and hope of Jesus that is available to all creation and before he can get to page two of the sermon, a gang of fellows from Thessalonica arrive and rough Paul up a bit before sending him packing yet again.

The Parthenon in Athens, located on the Acropolis

His friends escort Paul to Athens, and they told him just to cool his jets for a few days while they tried to patch things up in Berea.  At that time, Athens was a city of sixty or seventy thousand people that prided itself on being a world center of intellectualism and philosophy.  Paul visited the synagogue in Athens, but before long he found himself, like countless tourists before and since, taking in the sights.

Paul visited the Acropolis, the highest point in the city, that was crowned by the Parthenon, housing a statue of the goddess Athena that stands 38 feet tall.  In fact, there are at least a dozen temples to various Greek gods like Zeus, Apollos, and Artemis.  In addition to that, there are countless statues and altars to all manner of deity.  Paul must have been reminded of the old Greek proverb, “In Athens, there are more gods than men.”

After wandering around town for a few days and being unable to keep his mouth shut, Paul is invited to a place called Mars Hill, the meeting place for a body known as the Areopagus.  These men form the council of elders for Athens, and they ask Paul to explain his faith to them.  Listen:

So Paul stood up in front of the council and said:

People of Athens, I see that you are very religious. As I was going through your city and looking at the things you worship, I found an altar with the words, “To an Unknown God.” You worship this God, but you don’t really know him. So I want to tell you about him. This God made the world and everything in it. He is Lord of heaven and earth, and he doesn’t live in temples built by human hands. He doesn’t need help from anyone. He gives life, breath, and everything else to all people. From one person God made all nations who live on earth, and he decided when and where every nation would be.

God has done all this, so that we will look for him and reach out and find him. He isn’t far from any of us, and he gives us the power to live, to move, and to be who we are. “We are his children,” just as some of your poets have said.

Since we are God’s children, we must not think that he is like an idol made out of gold or silver or stone. He isn’t like anything that humans have thought up and made. In the past, God forgave all this because people did not know what they were doing. But now he says that everyone everywhere must turn to him. 

He has set a day when he will judge the world’s people with fairness. And he has chosen the man Jesus to do the judging for him. God has given proof of this to all of us by raising Jesus from death.

As soon as the people heard Paul say a man had been raised from death, some of them started laughing. Others said, “We will hear you talk about this some other time.” When Paul left the council meeting, some of the men put their faith in the Lord and went with Paul. One of them was a council member named Dionysius. A woman named Damaris and several others also put their faith in the Lord.

Saint Paul Delivering the Areopagus Sermon in Athens, by Raphael (1515)

As Paul explains his faith in Jesus to these scholars and philosophers, he makes note of an altar he’d seen indicating that the Athenians acknowledged the presence and power of a god they did not yet know – a god who was somehow in addition to the dozens of gods they were worshiping.  Paul makes the case that this previously unknown God is, in fact, YHWH, who is the creator of the entire world.  Unlike Athena, Zeus, Aphrodite, or Ares, YHWH is too big, too powerful to be contained in a temple made by human hands.

As we’ve said, when Paul began to talk about Jesus in a new place, he usually started in the synagogues, where he took passages from the Hebrew Bible and attempted to demonstrate that Jesus was the next best thing that God was doing in the world.  Yet here, in front of the Areopagus in Athens, Paul realizes that an appeal to Jewish scripture would be useless.  Instead of asking them to validate a text with which they are unfamiliar, Paul quotes the Greek poets Epimenides and Cleanthes.  These folks, says Paul, knew something about the God who’d made them, even if they didn’t know his name.  Paul says that they are pointing, without knowing it, to YHWH, the creator of all, ruler of all, and giver of all good gifts.

And as Paul does this, he speaks out against the religious nationalism that he’d encountered elsewhere even while challenging some core tenets of the Athenian identity.  Look at verse 26:

From one person God made all nations who live on earth, and he decided when and where every nation would be.

Now, here’s the thing about this verse: like much of the Bible, when it is stripped of its context and cultural placement, it can be twisted and misused.

The Dutch Reformed Church in South Africa, for instance, used this particular verse to establish and prop up the socio-political system of apartheid, which segregated races and gave tremendous advantages to minority whites.  These theologians said, essentially, “Well, look – God made people and gave them boundaries and borders and ethnic identities and cultures.  If we mix those things, then we’re going against God.  It’s best if you all just stay in that place, which happens to be impoverished and under our heels, but hey – who are we to argue with where God has put us?”

This same scripture was used to justify the enslavement of human beings in the United States and was cited by religious people who opposed the legalization of interracial marriage in the US in 1967.

It’s interesting to note, however, that the European theologians never seemed to interpret this scripture in such a way as to imply that folks should just stay in their own countries and resist the temptation to go and colonize another continent…

So let’s look at this verse and see how Paul is actually making this statement in a way that challenges any view of religious nationalism.

By the time that Paul arrived, the people of Athens had long held to a belief that they were autochthonous – that is, that the inhabitants of Athens did not come from anyone or anywhere else.  Their ancestors had miraculously sprung from the soil, rocks, and trees on that hill in Greece.  They sometimes used the term “earthborn” to describe themselves.  In fact, Athenians wore cicada-shaped ornaments as a way of saying that like these creatures, Athenians had emerged from the soil and therefore were the only genuine, authentic, “real” Greeks.  They used this narrative to justify their efforts to subjugate and control the “lesser” peoples that surrounded them.  In fact, in Plato’s dialogue Menexenus, he describes Socrates offering a commentary as to why Athenians so hated “barbarians”.

Because we are pure-blooded Greeks, unadulterated by barbarian stock. For there cohabit with us none of the type of Pelops, or Cadmus, or Aegyptus, or Danaus, and numerous others of the kind, who are naturally barbarians though nominally Greeks.

 Can you believe that was written 2500 years ago?  You can hear that same kind of “othering” in the speeches today made by politicians who want to draw a line between the “real” Americans and “those people” who are less than us.  You know, the folks who are like us, and not moochers or thugs or criminals or low-lifes like them.

So in his speech to the Athenian Council, aware of this tradition, Paul dismisses any claims to autochthany.  In this passage he is saying, “Look, nobody just showed up, or crawled out of the earth on their own.  All of us – and all of them, in fact – are born hungry for God and are called to love and serve God.  Our lives belong to God!”

I’m suggesting that Paul’s trip to Athens, as narrated in Acts 17, would indicate that God is not pleased with human attempts toward unabated nationalism, cultural superiority, or racism.

In an era in which nativism and wall-building are not only seen as political strategies but have somehow wound up, in some circles at least, being considered “Christian values”, let us seek to be a people who affirm and recognize the fact that we all belong to God!

The existence of the church in Jerusalem, Antioch, Athens, Crafton Heights, and everywhere in between serves to remind us that in Christ, we are all connected.  We belong to one another.  There is no place for Christian Nationalism, no room for advocating for ethnic purity or cultural superiority.  As Paul says, every single one of us is born groping for God.  We all, by nature, are trying to figure out some way to connect with the One who gave us life.  Let us do all we can to amplify the reconciling, uniting message and work of Jesus in the hopes that as we do so, others might learn more about the One in whose image they, too, have been created.  Thanks be to God for calling us to this life of service, humility, and love.  Amen.

The Intrusive Gospel

The people at The First U.P. Church of Crafton Heights are spending much of the 2023-2024 academic year looking at the story of God’s people as recorded in the New Testament book of Acts.  We engage in this series of messages convinced of the fact that God’s power changes apparently small and nondescript groups of people into a force that will change the world in ways that are reflective of the love and justice of Jesus.  On May 5 we watched as the message of Jesus crossed the Aegean Sea and ended up in Europe.  You can read it for yourself in Acts 16:11-24

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On September 17, 2023, we began our study of the Book of Acts.  Today marks the 22nd time since then that we’ve considered this portion of the scripture in our worship service.  You may find that this is tremendously engaging, or you may feel as though we are slogging through these texts as if it’s today’s Pittsburgh Marathon.  I’m here to tell you that from my perspective, we are sprinting through these passages.  A better preacher than I could spend a month on Acts 16 alone. I’m going to try to hit a couple of the highlights in this chapter for today, and commend the entire chapter to you for your own reflection, reading, and growth.

A few observations will help set the context.  Last week, we watched as Paul and Barnabas went their separate ways, and we followed Paul as far as a place called Troas, where he had a vision of a person in another place called Macedonia.  At the risk of overstating the obvious, I’m going to assert that most of us are pretty bad at geography – biblical or otherwise – and assume that when the person is up front reading all of these place names, we mostly just hear “yep, Paul moved around a lot…and I’m sure glad I’m not the lay reader today!”  That’s true – he did.  And don’t sell yourself short.

Yet a glance at a map offers us something profound.  In sailing from Troas (in what is now Turkey) to Macedonia (in Greece), Paul takes the Gospel out of the Middle East and Asia Minor and into Europe.  The power of the message of Jesus is on the move, and it is unmistakable.  We have already seen how in places like Jerusalem and Antioch and Samaria and Derbe that the people of God are becoming increasingly diverse in every way – ethnically, racially, socially, and more.  This move into Europe will continue and even intensify that trend.

Let’s also take a closer look at the first line of the reading you’ve heard today: “From Troas we put out to sea…” You may or may not have noticed anything new, but let me point out that thus far, our readings in Acts have all been in the third person.  “Peter and John did this…” “Philip went there…”  Today, we encounter the first of the so-called “we passages” in the book of Acts.  The way that the text is narrated in this chapter implies an eyewitness account.  Traditionally, scholars have looked at the way that the Greek is written and credited this book to Luke, a physician who traveled with Paul.  I appreciate the immediacy that this shift in voice and style brings to our narrative.

We’ve seen in many ways already that the earliest Christ-followers had learned to adapt and shape their behavior and practice according to the situations in which they found themselves.  We have watched in recent episodes where Paul and Barnabas show up in a town and head for the Jewish synagogue, where in that place they could bear witness to Jesus among his own people.

But when they arrive in Philippi, in Greece, there’s a snag: there is no synagogue.

Don’t you hate it when you’ve got a rhythm and a style and that gets interrupted?  You’re a teacher and you’ve got a great field trip planned… and then there’s no bus to transport the class.  Or you have a family reunion picnic all ready to go, and then a monsoon blows into town.

Lydia of Philippi (Icon  by @KnowYourMothers on KnowYourMothers.com Used by permission.)

Paul and his companions discover here that wanting to testify about Jesus can be inconvenient, and it could make them adjust their plans.  They abandon the idea of finding a synagogue and make their way to the river.  In those days, if the Jewish community lacked the ten adult men necessary to form a synagogue, the community would gather outside the city near water.  Paul and the team leave downtown and find Lydia leading a prayer meeting next to the river.  This woman is a dynamo – a real force of nature.  She is an entrepreneur.  A leader.  A respected merchant in town.  And there by the banks of the river, Lydia hears about Jesus and declares that she’d like to follow in the Jesus way. She is baptized immediately.

And look at what happens next: she invites the group that consists of Paul, Silas, Timothy, and Luke (at least) to check out of the Motel 6 and stay in her home instead.  I point this out because a number of modern readers have a lot to say about the way that Paul’s writings seem to reflect or even endorse the subjugation of women.  We sometimes lose track of the fact that he was a man of his time writing in a particular culture.  Yet here, we see his actions, and they speak volumes.  Paul accepts the hospitality that is at best unconventional and could be potentially scandalous.  The team of missionaries takes the social risk of lodging with an unmarried woman in a way that amplifies her own social standing in the community.

So, Paul’s introduction to the European continent was a little bumpy.  I’m here to tell you that’s nothing compared to what comes next.  Listen:

Once when we were going to the place of prayer, we were met by a female slave who had a spirit by which she predicted the future. She earned a great deal of money for her owners by fortune-telling. She followed Paul and the rest of us, shouting, “These men are servants of the Most High God, who are telling you the way to be saved.” She kept this up for many days. Finally, Paul became so annoyed that he turned around and said to the spirit, “In the name of Jesus Christ I command you to come out of her!” At that moment the spirit left her. (Acts 16:16-18 NIV)

Paul and Silas in Philippi Drive the Devil Out of A Woman Possessed by a Spirit of Divination, Pieter de With (c. 1650)

Although we’re not told precisely how long the folks stayed in Philippi, it must have been for some time.  One of the things that happened during this stopover was that Paul and his companions would be confronted by a spectacle that included an enslaved person who, according to the text, was possessed by a spirit that would draw attention to Paul and his companions.  One day, Paul had had enough, and he freed the woman from that spirit.  This is good news, right?  Well, it depends on who you ask…

When her owners realized that their hope of making money was gone, they seized Paul and Silas and dragged them into the marketplace to face the authorities. They brought them before the magistrates and said, “These men are Jews, and are throwing our city into an uproar by advocating customs unlawful for us Romans to accept or practice.”

Did you see what they did there?  Mixing in a little patriotism to go along with the moneymaking and righteous indignation as they got all the folks riled up (although this is just me – it’s not the Bible)…

The crowd joined in the attack against Paul and Silas, and the magistrates ordered them to be stripped and beaten with rods. After they had been severely flogged, they were thrown into prison, and the jailer was commanded to guard them carefully. When he received these orders, he put them in the inner cell and fastened their feet in the stocks.  (Acts 16:19-24, NIV)

This reminds me of a story that I first heard from Southern comedian Lewis Grizzard, who talked about a young pastor who’d been called into the heart of Appalachia.  There in the hollers of the Allegheny mountains, he finds himself warmly received by his new congregation. The first Sunday he preaches on the Ten Commandments, and they love it. The second Sunday he preaches fire and brimstone on chastity and marital fidelity, and they love it. The third Sunday he rises to preach against the sins of drinking, and the evils of men making their living by moonshine. The congregation gets quiet for a while, and finally one man in the back stands up.

“What is it?” says the preacher.

“Son,” answers the man, to the silent but clear approbation of the assembled, “You’ve done quit preaching, and gone to meddling.”

That’s what’s happening here.  Apparently, the folks that were running the fortune-telling scam hadn’t been bothered by the presence of Paul or the Jesus movement before now.  But when Paul heals this poor woman, and affects their bottom line, well, they decide that this meddling has got to stop!

The Gospel of Jesus Christ had become an obstacle to profit and control, so obviously, the Gospel had to go.  The core values demonstrated in the liberation of an oppressed person and the restoration of a captive to her family are now, obviously, in direct conflict with business as usual and the retirement plans of those who’d profited from the enslavement of this young woman.

In the fracas that ensues, Paul and Silas are humiliated, beaten, and imprisoned.

Paul and Silas Flogged at Philippi, Vincenzo Morani (1809-1870)

What do we do when the imperatives of the Gospel crash against the things that we want, or enjoy, or assume?  What happens when the Good News becomes intrusive or when preaching becomes ‘meddling’?  How do we respond when the call of Jesus interferes with our desire to just keep on doing what we’ve always done?  How do we listen to the voice of Jesus even when it’s inconvenient – or even dangerous – to do so?

I will suggest that this is a question that is 100% applicable to the church of Jesus Christ in 21st century USA.

Back in 2010, sociologists Robert Putnam and David Campbell wrote American Grace: How Religion Divides and Unites Us.  In it they note that whereas once upon a time, Americans apparently turned to their faith and faith communities to help them make political judgments, in the second half of the 20thcentury that calculus gradually reversed itself.  By 2010, they asserted, it was more likely that an American will find a political platform or party identity with which they are comfortable and then create a religious life or community that will reinforce those political or economic decisions.  However imperfectly, we used to look to Jesus to help us discern how to vote, or order society, or spend our money.  Now, these scholars argue, Americans pick and choose our religious viewpoints on the basis of whether that God will bolster or amplify the life we’ve already chosen.

And if that might have been true in 2010, I’m here to tell you that it’s a five-alarm fire in 2024.  Russell Moore stepped down as the top official for the Southern Baptist Convention and became the editor of the evangelical magazine Christianity Today.  In an interview with NPR last year, Moore said,

Multiple pastors tell me, essentially, the same story about quoting the Sermon on the Mount, parenthetically, in their preaching — ‘turn the other cheek’ — (and) to have someone come up after to say, ‘Where did you get those liberal talking points?’ And what was alarming to me is that in most of these scenarios, when the pastor would say, ‘I’m literally quoting Jesus Christ,’ the response would not be, ‘I apologize.’ The response would be, ‘Yes, but that doesn’t work anymore. That’s weak.’  And when we get to the point where the teachings of Jesus himself are seen as subversive to us, then we’re in a crisis.

Paul and Silas would not have any of that.  If the liberating news of Jesus was not good business for Philippian slave owners, then so be it.  The economics of their time did not change the call of Christ to be marching in the path of freedom for the oppressed and restoration of the marginalized.  And, as you’ve seen, their words cost them.

We started this series on Acts with the idea that our congregation might learn a lot from the first generation of people to follow Jesus.  Today, I hope that we might learn from them how to attend to the message of Jesus even when that message is unpopular or inconvenient.

Listen: at the core of the Gospel message is the assertion that things in my life, this neighborhood, and the world are seriously broken.  We have turned to Jesus, not in an effort to double down on all the parts of our lives, this neighborhood, and the world that we find attractive or delightful, but so that we can gain the courage to change those aspects of ourselves, our neighborhood, and our world that are not of Jesus.

May we hear today the intrusive, liberating, challenging word of Jesus as we contemplate the realities of 1400 Israelis and more than 35,000 Palestinians killed since October.  And as we listen for that word, may we be open to confessing and owning our own complicity in an established order that helped to create that crisis.  May God deliver us from easy answers and, confront us with intrusive truth, and equip us to live the Jesus way how and where we can today.  May we consider all of the big, loud issues of our day: immigration, reproductive choices, individual rights, and so on only in light of the redemption we have in Jesus and our calling to be agents of reconciliation.  Let us resist as something other than Christian the temptation to look at issues like that ahead of, or apart from, Jesus.  May we have the courage and faithfulness that was granted to Paul and Silas to see and speak the truth of love to those areas that are in need of healing.  Thanks be to God.  Amen.

Discerning the Call

The people at The First U.P. Church of Crafton Heights are spending much of the 2023-2024 academic yearlooking at the story of God’s people as recorded in the New Testament book of Acts.  We engage in this series of messages convinced of the fact that God’s power changes apparently small and nondescript groups of people into a force that will change the world in ways that are reflective of the love and justice of Jesus.  On April 28 we joined the early church in reacting to the “breakup” of the Dream Team: Barnabas and Paul.  You can read it for yourself in Acts 15:36-16:10

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I’m wondering whether you know who any of these people are, or what they have in common?  Gerry Turner, Theresa Nist, Robert Irwin, Rorie Buckey, Tori Spelling, and Dean McDermott?  Any ideas what connects these folks?

Would you believe me if I told you that they were all featured in E! News’ account of “2024 Celebrity Break-ups”?  Each of these couples felt compelled to issue press releases concerning their relational status, which led me to believe that there are, presumably, heartbroken fans out there somewhere.  I suppose, though, that it’s equally likely that other folks woke up this morning with optimism, thinking, “Hey, she’s single! You’re telling me there’s a chance…”

I’m mentioning this because in last week’s reading from the Book of Acts, we avoided a huge break-up.  You may remember that the believers in Jerusalem weren’t so sure that they could live with the new folks up in Antioch.  After a long heart-to-heart, they decided that they could make it work, and so they issued a press release to all the congregations proclaiming that there is only one church and we are all in it.  Our reading last week closed by indicating that Paul and Barnabas were returning to Antioch to participate in the life of the believers there.

And now this morning, we, along with the church of the first century, are thunderstruck.  Paul and Barnabas are splitting up!  These men had known each other for fifteen years, at least.  They’d meant everything to one another, and according to Acts 15, they’d “risked their lives for the sake of our Lord Jesus Christ.”  They are packing their bags, ready to board the ship for what will become known as the “second missionary journey”, and the word gets out: the “dream team” is no more.

What happened?  Was it a doctrinal issue?  Did Barnabas start preaching heresy?  Or maybe it was finances: was Paul bleeding the expense account dry?

No, as often as churches are in conflict around these issues, this split had nothing to do with them.  In fact, it was a personnel matter.  Specifically, it revolved around a member of the Youth Group, a kid named John Mark (who happened to be Barnabas’ nephew).  Maybe that name sounds familiar to you because you remember that John Mark had started out with them on the first missionary journey a few years earlier.  However, the kid only made it as far as Pamphylia (the first stop in modern-day Turkey) before he jumped ship and high-tailed it for home.  We don’t know why he left, only that he did so abruptly.

And now, as they are preparing for the next great journey, Barnabas shows up at the dock with John Mark alongside.  It would seem as though that was too much for Paul, who didn’t have much stomach for quitters.  Barnabas was pleading for grace, but Paul was not having any of it.  At the end of a tense meeting, Barnabas and John Mark get on the boat and set sail for Cyprus to continue the missionary work they’d started there some years prior.

Paul is left on the dock, looking around, and he grabs a different kid from the Youth Group, a young man named Silas, and the two of them travel overland through Syria, eventually reaching Derbe and Lystra.

What can we learn from this account of life in the early church?  I think there are at least three things worth noting.

First, in many ways, we see that people are who they are.  Do you remember how Barnabas and Paul first met?  Paul had been out there on the warpath (he was playing for the other team then), assaulting and even killing people who were seeking to follow Jesus.  Somehow, by God’s grace, Paul had a vision of the risen Lord while he was on his way to Damascus.  Paul fell to his knees and gave himself to Jesus.  When he got to Damascus, he tried to join the church there – only there was no way they would let him in!  He made his way back to Jerusalem and tried to meet with the Apostles.  They, too, held back in fear.  There was only one person who’d been willing to take a chance on him, and you know that was the apostle Barnabas.  Barnabas vouches for Paul, and befriends him, and mentors him into a new way of life.  With Barnabas’ guidance, Paul becomes the greatest missionary and theologian of the early church.

So I don’t think that anyone ought to be surprised that today, standing out there on the loading dock, Barnabas appears ready to offer John Mark a second chance.  Yet Paul, and apparently a good portion of the local congregation, is just not ready for that.  Barnabas sticks to his guns and takes the young man under his wing to begin a new chapter in his life.  The tradition of the early church is that John Mark is the author of the first gospel to ever be written.  John Mark, we believe, stayed with Peter in a Roman prison until Peter’s death, and then became the first person to present an orderly account of the life and death of Jesus to the world.

Do you see what I’m getting at here?  That Paul was still holding fast to his sense that actions have consequences and that this work isn’t for softies.  Are we surprised by that?  Of course not – no more than we are to turn around and see Barnabas giving someone else another shot to get things right.  That’s just how these folks were wired.

Another observation we might make at this point is that even faithful people disagree on spiritual things.  By now, we know enough about both Paul and Barnabas to not question their commitment to the cause.  They are both totally sold out.

So who is right?  Who “wins” in this argument?  Well, Luke, the author, of Acts doesn’t offer much commentary here.  He is simply objective about what happened and who went with whom.

When I was younger and contemplating a vocation in the church, I often thought about how cool it would be to have been a follower of Jesus in the first century.  I had a romantic view of how people must have gotten along in Bible days, thinking it would have been so much easier to focus on the things that really matter.  I had a sense that everybody got along with everybody else… and yet the more I read, the more I came to see that of course there were struggles in the early church.  That’s just who we are: we will not all see things the same way, no matter how pure our motives.  A mentor of mine taught me the truth that the church of Jesus Christ is a lot like Noah’s Ark: that on a lot of days, if the storm wasn’t so bad on the outside, it’d be tough to put up with the smell on the inside!

A final observation on this episode is this: that sometimes, as painful as conflict can be, it often proves to be the catalyst for new opportunities for faithful living.  In Acts 15:36, we see two leaders who are planning one trip.  By the time we get to Acts 16:5, we have at least five leaders who are participating in two different trips.  The power of the congregation there in Antioch to encourage and bolster new congregations has doubled as Barnabas went west and Paul headed north.

And inasmuch as conflict can lead to new growth, we must remember that it’s not always permanent.  By the time that Paul got around to sending mail to the Corinthians, he says that people ought to be financially supporting Barnabas in the work that he’s doing.  And years later, as Paul is languishing on death row in a Roman prison, he writes to the young man he met on this trip – Timothy – and asks him to visit as soon as he can, adding, “and get John Mark and bring him with you, for he is very useful in serving me…” (II Timothy 4:11).   The reality is that this disagreement in Acts 15 is a part of the narrative that Paul and Barnabas shared – but it’s neither the beginning nor the end of that narrative.

What do we take away from this reading of Acts?  Is there a message for CHUP in 2024 here?

I believe that this is a call for each of us to consider our place in this ministry. Look: I love this church in so many ways.  I love the ugliness of the building outside, I love the ways that it has been shaped and formed over the years to house an incredible variety of ministries from Sunday School to Small Group Bible Studies to Cross Trainers to Preschool to Food Distributions…  I love this place.

 But this I don’t love: the configuration of this room.  There you are in pews that are bolted down, seated in rows, staring at the heads of the folks sitting in front of you.  Here I am, the only one in the place with a microphone, standing behind this pulpit that conveys authority.  I think it must be incredibly tempting to think that we can simply slide into a seat toward the back of the room and assume that all of the real work is being by the guy up front in the white dress…

But look at the reading from today!  There are all kinds of references to folks not named either Paul or Barnabas who are active and vital participants in the mission of the church!  There are believers in Antioch, Cyprus, Derbe, Lystra, Jerusalem, Phrygia, and Galatia, just for starters.  This account is emphatic in its assertion that following Jesus is not a spectator sport!

Today, as we continue with the annual meeting of this congregation – as we consider what it means for us to be a mission outpost of God’s Kingdom in this time and in this place, let me ask you what is your role?  How are you engaging in the ministry of Jesus here and now?

What gifts and abilities do you bring to this time and place that might be an encouragement to folks in our world?  And where do you need to grow? How can you come alongside of others in seeking to learn more fully how to live in the Jesus way?

Today, as we consider where we’ve been in 2023 and contemplate our future, I beg you not to be a spectator!  Instead, let us each follow the model of the early church and dive into the work of Christ in this place and time deeply.  Let us encourage our neighbors and friends to join us in exploring faithfulness here.

Will you agree with every single thing that happens, or every decision that is reached?  I’d be shocked if that were to happen.

Yet God has given you wisdom, insight, passion, time, and energy.  Will you use those things to make this community healthier than it is right now?

Beloved, this is a critical time in the life of this congregation.  There has not been a public disagreement such as we’ve seen in Acts 15, yet this is clearly a time for us to discern where God is calling us to serve and how God is calling us to love.

We’ve seen that the church in Acts 15 and 16 was a thriving community – that they were “strengthened in the faith and increased in numbers daily.”  Are you thriving?  Are we, together, thriving?  How can we come together to seek God’s best in this time and place?  How will we be the church of today for the people that need us?

Thanks be to the God who promises us that the power and strength of the Holy Spirit is in us and with us, even as it was in the church that sent out Barnabas and Paul.  Amen.

The Ted Lasso School of Theology

The people at The First U.P. Church of Crafton Heights are spending much of the 2023-2024 academic yearlooking at the story of God’s people as recorded in the New Testament book of Acts.  We engage in this series of messages convinced of the fact that God’s power changes apparently small and nondescript groups of people into a force that will change the world in ways that are reflective of the love and justice of Jesus.  On April 21 we continued this series after as we looked at Acts 15:1-35.

To hear this message as preached in worship, please use the media player below:

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If you know me very well, you are aware of the fact that I am a huge fan of the recent television series Ted Lasso.  In fact, I am the only person I know who has both Ted Lasso socks and a talking Ted Lasso figurine on my desk.

One of my favorite episodes from that show came in season one.  Our hero has been challenged to a game of darts by the villain, a character named Rupert.  There is a high-stakes bet that’s been made and early on, Ted is getting creamed, while Rupert grows cockier and cockier.  Before his last turn, Ted needs two triple-twenties and a bullseye to win.  Just before making the first of those throws, Ted begins a story that contains a line he attributes to Walt Whitman: “Be curious, not judgmental”.  He then throws a triple-twenty.  He continues the tale, recounting the many people who have judged him, and says “if they were curious, they would have asked questions”.  Another triple-twenty.  He makes his point about not judging people, but rather being curious enough to ask questions about them, and then he wins the game with a bullseye.  As much as any other scene in the show, this exchange highlights the virtues of curiosity and a willingness to learn and grow.

Today, we continue in our year-long study of the Book of Acts.  And today, we had a long reading.  I found it hard to trim because this account provides us with an incredibly important chapter in the life of the church of Jesus Christ.

We started this exploration of Acts with the idea that as the body of Christ is increasingly a minority in the 21st century USA, that as we live and move in a culture that is not so much “anti-Jesus” as it is “Jesus? Meh…” that we can learn something about being faithful followers of Jesus from our older siblings in the faith who were often marginalized in their communities.  This morning, I’d like to point to both a theological and a practical lesson from this text.

The Council at Jerusalem (artist unknown)

Let’s talk theology first, shall we?  I’d like to take a look at the groups who are described here, and to caution us against seeing these folks in an overly simplistic fashion.  Barnabas and Paul, as we’ve seen, have been based in Antioch but are traipsing all over Asia Minor preaching about the love of Jesus and watching all kinds of people come to faith.  Now, a lot of these folks who came to believe in Jesus were not Jews, but it was plain to anyone in the room that the Holy Spirit was present.  Sometimes, we want to look at Barnabas and Paul and see them as good, well-meaning, liberal believers who help people to see that there’s more to life in Christ than following some outmoded rule book.

On the other hand, some of us are tempted to view the other folks, those who are associated with “the party of the Pharisees”, as stodgy conservatives who are afraid of change and really just need to get with the times.  Come on, people, lighten up!  It’s the first century now! We’re in anno domini time!

Yet such caricatures are neither accurate nor helpful.  Those folks who were so concerned about the influx of Gentile (non-Jewish) believers didn’t see the Jewish Law as a gate to keep people out.  Instead, these folks were coming from a very faith-full mindset where the way that a person lives into a covenantal relationship with God is by walking according to the Laws of Moses. These dietary and cultural restrictions are not what makes people holy, but they are a means by which people may claim their identity as children of God.  To these people, the Torah was a gift – they would say that it helps us to stay who we are, and would caution us against simply disregarding it and saying that there was something new and better on the horizon.

Paul, Barnabas, and even Peter look at those folks and say something like, “Yeah, I get that, but you have to understand that we’ve seen how these folks are living.  It is clear that the mark of the Holy One is on them and in them. We’re not quite sure why it’s happened like this, or even how it’s happened like this, but they are clearly participating in the life of the Divine apart from a full observance of the Mosaic Laws.  I hear you saying that according to the ways we’ve always understood the book, it can’t be true, but you need to know that it’s happening anyway.”

And right there in the middle of Acts 15, the group of Apostles that was leading the church chose to enter into the Ted Lasso School of Theology.  These guys asked questions.  They were curious about what it meant to be a follower of Jesus in places like Antioch, Lystra and Derbe.

And in the course of finding out more about the lives of these sisters and brothers in other places, the council in Jerusalem came up with a means of understanding that the new believers were included in the covenant people of God without requiring them to carry the full cultural weight of the Jewish Law.  Their spokesperson, James, said, “You know, we can let go of an expectation that you all be circumcised and keep your kitchens kosher, but we’ve got to insist on a few things: don’t eat anything that’s been sacrificed to pagan gods, abstain from incestuous marriages, don’t eat animals that have been strangled, and avoid partaking of the blood of animals.”

I’m here to tell you that they didn’t simply pull those criteria out of a hat.  No, they saw those practices in the ancient book of Leviticus (chapters 17 – 18), where God was speaking to a group of people who wanted to live faithfully that included both ethnic Jews as well as “the aliens who reside among them” – in other words, the outsiders who are learning to live like insiders.

The first church came to a theological decision by weighing three very important factors:

Is it possible, they asked, that God might be doing a new thing?  Has God made a new revelation of God’s self or God’s truth to which we ought to be attentive?  They remembered how often the prophets declared God’s intentions to think outside the box, and they understood that it might be possible to understand God in new ways.

In addition to considering the possibility of revelation, they also were attentive to the things that their own experience was telling them.  Peter, Paul, and Barnabas were all emphatic in their belief that they had seen the presence and the power of the Holy Spirit in the Gentile believers.  These apostles had witnessed first-hand the fruits of the Spirit in the lives of people in Antioch and other places.

And lastly, they knew that whatever they decided, it had to be connected with the scripture.  They refused to simply say, “Oh, yeah, Moses.  He’s so 2000 years ago.  You can’t trust any of that stuff…”  Rather, they based their decision on a Levitical standard that was specifically targeted to a time and place where Gentiles and Jews were seeking to be faithful together.

Appeals to revelation, experience, and scripture have been incredibly important to the church for the last 2000 years.  Neither the first apostolic council nor believers today are free to abandon any of these three means of understanding God’s movement in and through the world, or to claim that somehow only one of them is legitimate.  Balancing our understandings of scripture, lived experience, and God’s self-revelation have been very helpful to the church.  Think about the conversations that Christians have had, for instance, regarding the enslavement of human beings.  The words of scripture were used for centuries to somehow justify this abhorrent practice, yet we have come to see that God intends freedom for God’s people. Many traditions have understood that the ways that women were treated culturally in a different age don’t make sense in our own time, and so we have come to a point where we value women as leaders and authority figures in the church.  Similarly, I believe that there are many helpful conversations taking place in our own day regarding human sexuality and gender – conversations that must rely on scripture, experience, and God’s revelation.

Believers in Antioch (artist unknown)

The faithful church of the first century – and that of the twenty-first century – must be willing to engage in conversation on tough topics that uses these keystones to help us learn and grow as we seek to understand what it means to be faithful in our love for Jesus and our neighbors.

That’s the theological lesson I’m drawing from this reading: that God intends God’s people to be curious and growing as we seek to make sense not only of what we’ve already received, but that which we’re learning and experiencing now.

I also mentioned a practical insight for which I’m grateful, and it is simply this: we dare not lose sight of the fact that the church from which we’ve sprung was willing to have serious and honest discussions about weighty matters.  As Pastor Will Willimon puts it,

Rather than do what churches often do on such occasions – flee from the fight, submerge our differences, or else storm off in a huff – the apostles demonstrate that the gospel has given them the resources to confront controversy without being destroyed by it.  There are congregations who are too weak, too fearful of possible fragmentation, too bereft of any common, binding faith to have a good argument.  Luke does not discuss those churches because their timid and supercilious stories could not give courage to anyone. (Interpretation Commentary on Acts, John Knox Press, 1988, pp. 131-132)

Too often, congregations tiptoe around disagreement the way that characters in the Harry Potter universe avoid even mentioning the name of Voldemort.  When we can’t even name something, that’s a pretty good indication that it has an outsize influence on our ability to function faithfully.

Yet here in Acts we see a passionate group of people who are willing to come together to ask deep questions because they are united in their belief that it is God’s church, and not theirs.  They seek to be mutually submissive as they strive to avoid arrogance and look for ways to encourage each other to live like Jesus.

We, no less than they, are stewards of the mysteries and truths of Scripture in our own generation.  We, too, have seen God at work in our own place and time.  May we be as faithful as these early Christians in seeking to live with credibility, integrity, and love.  Thanks be to God for their witness in our lives.  Amen.

Remember Who You Are

The people at The First U.P. Church of Crafton Heights are spending much of the 2023-2024 academic yearlooking at the story of God’s people as recorded in the New Testament book of Acts.  We engage in this series of messages convinced of the fact that God’s power changes apparently small and nondescript groups of people into a force that will change the world in ways that are reflective of the love and justice of Jesus.  On April 14 we continued this series after as we looked at Acts 14 (quoted below) as well as Psalm 25:1-9.

To hear this message as preached in worship, please use the media player below:

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When our daughter was young, we just about wore out our copy of Disney’s The Lion King.  She loved the whole package, from Pumba and Timon to the comical hyenas Shenzi, Banzai, and Ed.  I haven’t watched it for ages, although as I dwelt with this week’s scripture passage, I was reminded of a powerful scene.

In the wake of his father’s murder, young Simba has run away from the pride of lions and had all kinds of experiences.  For most of the creatures, however, the quality of life has declined significantly.  The old baboon, Rafiki, confronts Simba and shows him a vision of his father, Mufasa, who implores him, “Remember who you are!”

This is a call for the adolescent lion to center himself in the love of his family and community and to engage fully in the world for the sake of that community. The scene reminds us not to be deceived by empty promises or hollow experiences.

As we continue in our reading of the Book of Acts this morning, we find ample evidence that the Apostle Paul remembered who he was.

I say that knowing that it’s at least in contrast, if not outright opposition, to much of what has been said or written about Paul in recent decades.  There have been a number of books labeling Paul the “inventor of Christianity”.  Many of these writers view Jesus as a humble teacher of a pure and ethical form of Judaism as a way of life, and accuse Paul of corrupting Jesus’ teachings into a religious system that elevated Jesus to divinity and was very useful in creating mechanisms that allowed the powerful to exert control over others.

And, to be sure, over the centuries, Paul’s words (too often, removed from their literary or cultural contexts) have been used to support the enslavement of human beings, to subjugate women, and to attack and dehumanize LGBTQ people.  Not only that, but many Jewish folks have seen Paul as a misguided teacher who facilitated or at least encouraged anti-Semitic thought and behavior while twisting the teachings of the human Jesus into a belief structure that elevated Jesus to the status of a divine redeemer.  And many Muslims have seen Paul as the instigator in a system of thought that perverted the teachings of Jesus – a mere man, in their eyes – into a doctrine that insisted that he was the son of God.

The upshot of all of this is that Paul, in his life and death, has had a reputation for being a bombastic hothead who was quick to condemn others and in a hurry to seize his own authority and status in the movement. Let’s look at today’s reading from Acts to see whether or not this concept of Paul is borne out.

Before we read, though, let’s have a recap.  Paul (that’s his Greek name; his Hebrew name is Saul), Barnabas, and John Mark had been sent off by the church in Antioch to encourage believers and to preach about Jesus.  John Mark didn’t make it very far on this trip – he jumped ship at Perga in Pamphylia, and we’ll say more about that at another time.

Paul and Barnabas, however, continued to travel through that part of the world we know as Asia Minor. This was a trip that would take them across 1400 miles over two years. As they travel, they continue to be surprised at the fact that lots and lots of people who’d been raised outside of the Jewish faith (they were called Gentiles) were eager to hear about God’s love and the work of Jesus.  As we’ve already seen, this caused no small amount of tension in Jewish synagogues.  Some of these folks were excited to learn about this welcoming God and his son, Jesus, whilst others raged about blasphemy and incited violence.

We pick up the story today in the town of Lystra, an ancient city in what is now known as southwestern Turkey.  Listen:

 In Lystra there sat a man who had been born crippled; he had never walked. As this man was listening to Paul speak, Paul looked straight at him and saw that he believed God could heal him. So he cried out, “Stand up on your feet!” The man jumped up and began walking around. (This and the texts that will follow are all from Acts 14, NCV)

Paul, as he’s been elsewhere in the past few years, finds that he is an agent of healing.  In this particular instance, he is able to help a grown man walk for the first time in his entire life.

Presumably, this man had a few friends, and you’d think that folks would be happy to see him up on his feet and moving around freely.  I’m sure that was the case.  There is, however, an additional reaction that was surprising:

When the crowd saw what Paul did, they shouted in the Lycaonian language, “The gods have become like humans and have come down to us!” Then the people began to call Barnabas “Zeus” and Paul “Hermes,” because he was the main speaker. The priest in the temple of Zeus, which was near the city, brought some bulls and and flowers to the city gates. He and the people wanted to offer a sacrifice to Paul and Barnabas.

The locals are all suddenly convinced that Paul and Barnabas aren’t the out-of-town missionaries that they claim to be, but rather divine visitors from the world of the gods.  Typical itinerant preachers don’t usually work this kind of miracle!

Paul and Barnabas at Lystra, by Jacob Pynas (c. 1630)

Now you may remember that this is not the first time in Acts where people have perceived something like divine behavior.  Do you remember a few weeks ago, in Acts 12, where King Herod was speaking and the starving locals in Tyre and Sidon wanted to butter him up, and so they acclaimed that Herod spoke with the voice of a god, not a man.  The old tyrant ate that up, and as a result of encouraging such behavior, he dropped dead on the spot.  Paul and Barnabas do not commit that mistake.  Our reading continues:

But when the apostles, Barnabas and Paul, heard about it, they tore their clothes. They ran in among the people, shouting, “Friends, why are you doing these things? We are only human beings like you. We are bringing you the Good News and are telling you to turn away from these worthless things and turn to the living God. He is the One who made the sky, the earth, the sea, and everything in them.  In the past, God let all the nations do what they wanted. Yet he proved he is real by showing kindness, by giving you rain from heaven and crops at the right times, by giving you food and filling your hearts with joy.” Even with these words, they were barely able to keep the crowd from offering sacrifices to them.

Do you hear the horror in their voices? “No, no, no, no, no!  That’s not who we are!  We’re human, just like you!”  Paul implores with every imaginable bit of humility as he tries to keep folks looking toward God, not himself.

And just when it seems like things are getting smoothed over, there’s another wrinkle:

Then some evil people came from Antioch and Iconium and persuaded the people to turn against Paul. So they threw stones at him and dragged him out of town, thinking they had killed him. 

Some self-appointed “truth squads” had been following Paul all the way from Antioch, and they’re ready to put an end to all of his preaching once and for all.  Yet Paul, perhaps channeling his inner “Monty Python and the Holy Grail,” responds with something like, “I’m not dead yet”:

But the followers gathered around him, and he got up and went back into the town. The next day he and Barnabas left and went to the city of Derbe. 

He gets up and keeps moving, because that’s what apostles do – they just keep on going!  The chapter ends with a lot less drama:

Paul and Barnabas told the Good News in Derbe, and many became followers. Paul and Barnabas returned to Lystra, Iconium, and Antioch, making the followers of Jesus stronger and helping them stay in the faith. They said, “We must suffer many things to enter God’s kingdom.” 

They chose elders for each church, by praying and fasting for a certain time. These elders had trusted the Lord, so Paul and Barnabas put them in the Lord’s care.

Then they went through Pisidia and came to Pamphylia. When they had preached the message in Perga, they went down to Attalia. And from there they sailed away to Antioch where the believers had put them into God’s care and had sent them out to do this work.

Now they had finished.  When they arrived in Antioch, Paul and Barnabas gathered the church together. They told the church all about what God had done with them and how God had made it possible for those who were not Jewish to believe. And they stayed there a long time with the followers.

This sounds pretty mundane – and when you’ve just been the victim of a murder attempt, mundane isn’t all that bad.  Yet it’s more than that: these verses contain some crucial insight into the life of the church.  In the face of this kind of opposition, Paul and Barnabas offer encouragement to the local believers.  They equip and train leaders for the new congregations.  They set expectations, noting that God does not magically shield followers of Jesus from pain.  Instead, they say, be prepared for opposition and persecution.

Yet even as they offer this counsel, they affirm that such is not the end of the story.  Rather, these early leaders can have confidence that as we live, work, and share together that God’s work is done and God’s intentions are revealed to the world.

And then we see something very significant: Barnabas and Paul make a report back to the church in Antioch.  In doing this, they reveal themselves to be people who see that they are accountable to the ones who’d commissioned them in the first place.

So that’s the story of the ending of Paul’s first missionary journey.  Are there any takeaways for us – for God’s people in Crafton Heights here in 2024?  As we contemplate that question, we are aware of the fact that the church as described in Acts 14 experiences as normative two phenomena that most of us do not expect to see very often.

Our story began with an account of a miraculous healing.  Such an experience was extraordinary then, and is rare today.  Most of us have not encountered situations where someone has gotten up off the floor for the first time in 30 years.  Yet dear friends, let us not discount the thought of healing completely.  In what ways have you experienced wholeness?  Have you been delivered from an addiction?  Are you witness to a relationship that has been restored? Are there places in your life where you have been healed, and can you talk about those things?  Let us look to the first century church as an example of giving God praise and glory in all the places of our healing and growth!

The other reality that they experienced with which we are less-acquainted is that of persecution.  Most of us, to be honest, are used to being large and in charge.  Christians in Pittsburgh, for instance, expect to see our holidays honored in the public square, even while we admit some irritation with the fact that some people aren’t available on Jewish or Muslim holy days.  When we talk about “getting prayer back into school”, we assume that the prayer being offered is in our tradition, and not in Arabic or Farsi.  And too often we mistake simple disagreement for persecution.  “He told me I was wrong!” is not the same thing as being dragged outside the city and left for dead.

Paul, Barnabas, and the rest of the crew that came out of First Church, Antioch, expected that there would be conflicts of ideas and theologies.  They were ready for that, and refused to shy away from open and sincere dialogue even when they ought to have suspected that sometimes that would lead to their physical harm.

Let us confess our position of privilege even as we pray for our siblings in parts of the world where it is truly dangerous to be a Christian.  I have friends in South Sudan who were imprisoned for almost 8 months after they preached in a Sudanese congregation and were then charged with “breaching the peace” and membership in “a terrorist organization”.  Christians in Palestine are caught in the conflict between their Muslim and Jewish neighbors, and according to Mitri Raheb, a Lutheran pastor there, the church in Palestine (which is the oldest Christian community in the world) may not survive.  “This community is under threat of extinction.  I’m not sure if they will survive the Israeli bombing, and even if they survive, I think many of them will want to emigrate.”  There were more than 8,000 Christians killed in Nigeria in 2023 alone.  We in the USA know something of inconvenience, but very little of persecution, thanks be to God.

Can we, as Jesus followers in this place and at this time, strive to remember who we are as we follow through in our day-to-day lives?  Let us engage our neighbors peaceably and humbly, trusting that the God who opened the door to faith in places like Lystra and Pamphylia knows where Stratmore and Clairhaven Streets are.  May God deliver us from our arrogance and presumption.  May God bring to our mind – and to our lips – the many times we have received healing and hope in the midst of difficult situations.  May God soften our hearts toward those who struggle.  Thanks be to God who calls, equips, sends, and empowers those who love in God’s name.  Amen.

On Letting Go

The people at The First U.P. Church of Crafton Heights are spending much of the 2023-2024 academic yearlooking at the story of God’s people as recorded in the New Testament book of Acts.  We engage in this series of messages convinced of the fact that God’s power changes apparently small and nondescript groups of people into a force that will change the world in ways that are reflective of the love and justice of Jesus.  On April 7 we resumed this series after a Lenten hiatus and considered the things that led to the trip we now call “Paul’s first missionary journey”.  In doing so we looked at excerpts from Acts 13 as well as Proverbs 3:5-6.

To hear this message as preached in worship, please use the media player below:

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Question: what does today’s reading from Acts have to do with the top-selling album worldwide of 2014?

Well, you’ve heard the scripture… so what is the record?  Which album sold more copies in 2014 around the world than any other?

If you guessed the soundtrack from Disney’s Frozen, you’d be right.  That sold about ten million albums that year.  And when I say “Frozen”, you, I bet, start hearing “Let it Go” in your head.  That chart-topping song won both the Academy Award and a Grammy.  In case your memory is a little fuzzy, I’ll remind you that this film describes Queen Elsa, who’d been born with magical powers to create and manipulate ice.  She suppressed them for most of her life for fear of injuring those she loved, and found herself increasingly ice-olated (do you see what I did there?).  The song has become an anthem of self-empowerment and a plea for people – especially young women – to live as those who are able to embrace the freedom to be their authentic selves and not be held back by fear or the expectations of others.

Yes, Pastor Dave, we were alive in 2014. In fact, we can’t think of anyone on the planet who hasn’t heard that song…

So what’s the tie-in between the saga of a Scandinavian snow queen and a group of Christ-followers from Eastern Asia 2000 years ago?

Well, let’s talk about those folks.  This morning, we are re-entering our study of the Book of Acts.  You may remember that the Jesus movement started in Jerusalem after the resurrection and ascension of Jesus.  His followers – all Jews – began to run afoul of the political and religious leaders in that town.  One of the early leaders, a deacon named Stephen, was killed in the conflict, and many of this community flee Jerusalem, only to find themselves in places that they’d never expected.  On top of that, the group is surprised when non-Jews express an interest in coming on board.

Saul, one of the religious zealots who’d been persecuting the band of Jesus’ followers, miraculously meets the risen Lord and winds up becoming a zealous preacher.  As the church is more and more open to non-Jewish believers, Saul starts to use his Greek name, Paul.

In today’s reading we once again encounter the church in Antioch, a city in Syria that was truly a happening place.  Here in the third-largest city in the Roman Empire we find an incredible group of Christ-followers.  I mean, look at the staff of First Church, Antioch:  in addition to Paul, you’ve got Barnabas, who wasn’t one of the original 12 apostles but was one of the most influential members of the early church.  Next to him are Simeon and Lucius, a couple of African converts who serve as leaders of the Antiochian faith community.  Manaen is also on staff: he was a foster brother to King Herod.  And lastly, there’s John Mark, the young believer who would eventually pen the first of the Gospels ever to be written.

My point is that the church in Antioch was led by group of people that was incredibly racially, culturally, and socially diverse.  These folks really are the dream team for that time and place.  And I suspect that at the beginning of Acts 13, everyone is happy with that arrangement.  The church is flourishing, and it is a time of deep and profound growth.

And then one Sunday during the joys and concerns, someone comes up with the bright idea that maybe they ought to split up this elite brotherhood and send Barnabas, Paul, and John Mark on a mission trip.

Now, in retrospect, we know that this was an amazingly inspired idea.  These folks set off on a trip that would last for about two years that started in Syria, and then took them to the island of Cyprus, up into various regions of Asia Minor that today we know as the nation of Turkey.  All told, they walked, sailed, or rode more than 1400 miles, and they changed the world.  That’s what we know looking back on it.

I wonder, however, whether everyone was truly on board with this idea when it was first suggested.  The reason I wonder that, and the connection I see with the #1 album of 2014 (you were worried that I might not circle back to Elsa, weren’t you?), has to do with a Greek word we find in verse 3.  We’re told that after fasting and prayer, the believers in Antioch laid hands on these three and “sent them off”.  In the Greek in which the book of Acts was written, that’s a compound word: apoluó.  It combines roots that mean “release” and “away from”, and means to let go of an existing bond, or to sever.  It is even used for “divorce”. The folks didn’t “send them off”, they let them go.  It’s the exact same word that we find in Acts 4 and 5, where Peter and John had been arrested by the authorities, were roughed up, and then let go.

So here’s what I’m saying: I don’t think that anyone at the First Church of Antioch was standing around, jingling their car keys in the pockets of their togas, hoping that Barnabas, Paul, and John Mark would take a hint and leave.

Paul’s Departure from Miletus, from the Basilica of St. Paul in Rome, c. 1857-60

Rather, I’m suggesting that the community discerned that at that particular place and time, the most faithful option would be to split up the staff that they loved and send those three off to parts unknown.  I suspect that this was a painful decision for all involved.

And yet, as we see in the rest of chapter 13 (and I would encourage you to go ahead and read it all!), some really great things happened as a result of that trip. Paul grew as a preacher while they were out there barnstorming.  Barnabas, already known for his encouraging nature, gave himself to his traveling companions and the communities that they visited.  John Mark was an eyewitness to history as miracles were performed, new communities were birthed, and opposition was encountered.  As you heard from the close of our reading today, the end result of this experiment was that joy abounded and more people than ever were excited about participating in the power of the Holy.

And it all begins with a letting go.  The first missionary journey – the trip that inspired the second, third, and fourth missionary journeys and totally reshaped the world – was born, at least in part, out of loss, grief, and even divorce.

I offer this to some of you in the room as a word of encouragement.  I realize that none of you are first-century Syrians and you haven’t watched your beloved friends set sail for distant shores while you’re forced to look at their empty homes and contemplate the vacancies their departures have occasioned on the church leadership team.

Yet you know what it’s like to experience loss – some of you deeply and intimately at this very moment.  Someone has left you, by death or by divorce. Or maybe you feel as though it’s you who has been sent away.  It is uncomfortable.  It hurts.  You may be in grief.

This wasn’t your idea, of course.  In fact, you might think it to be a spectacularly stupid idea.  But here you stand, waiting on the dock (or perhaps on the deck of a departing ship), watching the distance between you and your plans, you and your hopes and dreams, grow larger and larger.  There is so much in you that screams, “It wasn’t supposed to be like this!”

I’m sorry for that.

Can I encourage those of you who feel this pain to begin to imagine, or to hope, or try to conceive of the possibility that maybe this time of letting go – as unwelcome as it is – these endings, these releasings… that maybe these things can be the start of something new?

Your world is disrupted, and it is hard.  All change is hard.  And yet I’m here to tell you that in this pain, seeds are planted.  As you experience what may feel like the end, can you think that maybe you’re not experiencing being buried, but rather being planted?

I don’t know who Mary Ann Bernard is or was, but she has given me a fantastic image of this hope in her poem that is entitled “Resurrection”.  Listen:

Long, long, long ago;

Way before this winter’s snow

First fell upon these weathered fields;

I used to sit and watch and feel

And dream of how the spring would be,

When through the winter’s stormy sea

She’d raise her green and growing head,

Her warmth would resurrect the dead.

 

Long before this winter’s snow

I dreamt of this day’s sunny glow

And thought somehow my pain would pass

With winter’s pain, and peace like grass

Would simply grow.  The pain’s not gone.

It’s still as cold and hard and long

As lonely pain has ever been,

It cuts so deep and far within.

 

Long before this winter’s snow

I ran from pain, looked high and low

For some fast way to get around

Its hurt and cold.  I’d have found,

If I had looked at what was there,

That things don’t follow fast or fair.

That life goes on, and times do change,

And grass does grow despite life’s pains.

 

Long before this winter’s snow

I thought that this day’s sunny glow,

The smiling children and growing things

And flowers bright were brought by spring.

Now, I know the sun does shine,

That children smile, and from the dark, cold, grime

A flower comes.  It groans, yet sings,

And through its pain, its peace begins.

From Rueben Job and Norman Shawchuck, eds.,
A Guide To Prayer (Nashville: The Upper Room, p. 144).

Now there are others of you in the room for whom I will put these same verses before as a challenge.  Is there something to which you are clinging that you need to let go?  Are there habits, practices, or priorities that you need to change?

What might happen in your life, or in the world, if you rearranged your calendar a bit?  Can you do with a little less of this in order to have a little more of that?

How would the city know more of God’s intentions if you made some changes, for instance, in the way that you spend your money?  Are there some exciting new projects that you can support?  Are there some fascinations that you might release?

Here’s what I’m asking you to do this week: I’d like you to pay attention to what you are paying attention to.  Watch yourself this week, and notice: who, or what, gets your best self?  Where, or when, are you tempted to simply mail it in?

Is this a season wherein you can seek to direct the best of who you are to places – maybe even new ones – where the love, hope, mercy, and kindness of Jesus are needed?

Tomorrow our part of the country will be going bonkers over a solar eclipse – the much-smaller moon will blot out most of the sun’s light.  This is a great time for you to think about what is standing in the way of your ability to burn with Christ’s love in new places of your lives.  The days ahead may be anxious or they may be exciting.  Let us remember that no matter how they feel, God is with us in each of them.  God is present in our letting go and in our being released.

This is not a Disney movie, and you’re not the queen.  But, thanks be to God, you are – no less than Paul, Barnabas, and John Mark and all of their community in Antioch – you are held by God, loved by God, and yes, you, too, are sent by God.  May the joy of the Holy Spirit that filled them find you today, tomorrow, and in the days to come as you embark on the next steps of the missionary journey that is your life.  Amen.

In Praise of Uncertainty

On Easter Sunday, 2024, the folks at The First U.P. Church of Crafton Heights gathered to worship the risen Christ and to welcome new members into the congregation.  Our texts included Luke 24:1-12 and Jude 20-22.

To hear this message as preached in worship, please use the audio player below:

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Ten years or so ago, my wife attended a conference in Eastern Texas and invited me to join her.  It was then that we found ourselves on lovely Caddo Lake, where we spent a couple of days exploring the cypress swamps and wondering at the beauty of nature.

While there, we stumbled into a little town that is named “Uncertain” –  small hamlet of about 85 people.  I’ve learned that this curious name comes from the fact that when the town’s founders applied for incorporation, they couldn’t agree on a name, and so they simply listed “uncertain” in the paperwork that they submitted.  Lo and behold, the application was approved and the town had a name.

You can’t make this stuff up…

I was thrilled to discover that this little burg contains a Christian church.  I was even more excited when I saw the name of the congregation: The Church of Uncertain.  I wish we’d have been there on a Sunday, because I’ve spent a lot of time wondering what worship is like there.  Do they sing “Some Creatures of Our God and King”?  Or “Jesus, you’re my fairly sure foundation”, “How pretty good is our God”, or “Leaning on the usually-reliable arms”?

Now, hear me: I’m kidding.  Ish.  I do think that there is a lot to be said for the Church of Uncertain.  Take a look at the Gospel reading for today – it is filled with tentativeness.  Jesus’ friends arrive at the tomb, hoping to prepare his body for a formal burial, but they don’t have a solid plan as to how they are actually going to unseal the grave.  They get in ok, but then they can’t find the body: our text says “they didn’t know what to make of this”. The first recorded response to the notion of a resurrected Jesus is one of fear.  When these first apostles (all women, by the way!) are finally convinced, they run to tell the fellows, who think that they are hallucinating.  The word in our text is “nonsense”!  When Peter decides to check things out for himself, he leaves the tomb with more questions than answers – he is “wondering what had happened.”

The Disciples Peter and John Running to the Sepulchre on the Morning of the Resurrection, by Eugène Burnand (1898)

Do you see the demeanor of Christ’s followers on that first Easter? Uncertainty, fear, disbelief, wonder, and confusion.  What a stark contrast to the experience of so many churches today!  Whereas our spiritual ancestors were formed by their willingness to embrace the unknown and to ask huge questions, too many congregations today seem to be characterized by rigidity and conformity and self-righteousness.  When did certainty and assurance become such virtues and apparent hallmarks of faith?

For instance, when it comes to understanding scripture, the people of God long thought of the Bible as an invitation to grow in understanding what it meant to live lives that look like Jesus’.  Too many believers today, however, see it as a text to be mastered or a code to be enforced or a catalogue of who is acceptable and who isn’t.

We hear Jesus say something like “I am the way, the truth, and the life, and no one comes to the Father except through me”, and instead of looking at Jesus, we fall in love with our way of understanding just how Jesus might be the way, the truth, and the life – and we forget that often times our ways are not God’s ways.  Too often we fear or condemn those who see things differently than we do.

Some of the best hours of my winter have been spent in the company of your 2024 Confirmands.  This is a group of young people who have gathered to learn more about the faith in which each of them has been raised.  Since January, we’ve looked intently at who Jesus is, and we’ve tried to hear what he said and consider what he did.  We’ve discussed baptism and communion, reflected on the history and structure of the church.  This morning, they’re here saying that they’d like to join the church.  They’ve read their faith statement to the elders of the congregation, they’ve answered the questions of intent, and now they are prepared for the next step: their confirmation.

As gifted and wonderful as these young people are, we are not, today, enshrining them in the Faith Hall Of Fame and Museum.  We will not be collecting their faith statements and sending them off for publication in theological textbooks.  They are not joining the church on the basis of how much they know and how correct their views are.  Neither are they asserting that the way that they see things now is the only way that things could ever be, or indeed the only way that they’ll ever see them.

Instead, we are welcoming them into a newer, deeper, expression of the walk of faith that they’ve been on for some years. We are inviting them to join others in a more meaningful and intentional practice of this faith as they participate in the body of Christ.

 And you know this, my friends: when we are at our best, this is what the church is about.  We see ourselves, ideally, as disciples – we are learners.  In the context of our relationships with each other, we seek to explore the ways in which the person and work of Jesus and the power of the Holy Spirit equip us for day-to-day life.

I know that none of the confirmands showed up for any of our discussions hoping for list of “right” answers that they could memorize without a single thought. Instead, I am pleased to say that they are learning to be good questioners, good listeners, and good learners when it comes to faith.

Some of you, then, are here this morning because you want to join the church.  You’re here because you want to intentionally and emphatically voice that you are ready to declare your thoughts and beliefs and to look around the room and say, “These are my people.”

Most of you, of course, are not joining the church today.  Maybe you’re here because, well, this is what you always do on Sunday mornings.  You’ve found a home in the love of Jesus and you draw strength from following him in the context of this place and these people.

I suspect that a few of you are here because you’re curious, or you want to keep someone in your family happy, or maybe because it just seems like the thing to do on an Easter morning.

No matter why you decided to get up and walk through the doors, let me encourage each of us to spend some time today doing what the church does best. Let’s invest our energy today in doing now what those folks in Luke 24 were doing: looking for Jesus.

The epistle reading for today is from one of the shortest books of our Bible, the letter from Jude.  This note is written to a small group of Christ-followers who had been troubled by false teaching.  An arrogant group of outsiders had shown up and sought to enrich themselves at the expense of the community.

According to church tradition, the author of this letter, Jude, is the brother of Jesus.  Like his brother James, Jude had a position of leadership in the early church.  In all tenderness, he implores this community to focus on encouraging one another and looking for God’s love, and then offers his friends a wonderful message that is appropriate for Easter or any other morning: “have mercy on those who doubt”. “Give each other a break”, he seems to say.

 That resonates with me today.  I mean, if there is anyone who might be tempted to get all high and mighty in the first-century church; if there is someone who might be prepared to sort out the “true believers” from the rest of us, then maybe it’d be Jesus’ kid brother.  Yet there is none of that arrogance here – only a plea to look for the love of Christ and to share it with others.

Listen, I don’t know why you’re here today, but I can tell you this, just in case you’re unfamiliar with the stuff that happens next in the story.  The risen Lord did not show up later that day taking names of all the people who had doubted him.  Jesus wasn’t ever – before or after his death and resurrection – interested in shaming people who had questions.  Instead, the Risen Christ offered his friends a simple invitation.  As it happens, it was the same one that he’d issued to them on the day that they first met: “Follow me”.

I’m happy to tell you that Jesus is in the room today, and I can assure you that he won’t be looking anyone here in the eye and scolding you, “Look, bub – you’re skating on thin ice. You need to straighten up and fly right and then you can come looking for me.”  He’s not going to tell you, “Yes, that’s right, take some time, figure everything out, and once you’re sure about everything, then get back to me.

No, the first and last words of Jesus are simply “follow me.”  That is to say, live as someone who is constantly willing to be molded by the love of Jesus, and who is willing to share that love with the world.  Thanks be to God, Jesus will never, ever stop working on you, or in you, or even through you.  You can be certain of that.  Amen.

Hounded By Love

During the season of Lent in 2024, the folks at The First U.P. Church of Crafton Heights are listening to the familiar verses of the 23rd Psalm in worship.  We are exploring what it means to have a shepherd who leads, guards, restores, encourages, and promises us.  On Palm Sunday (March 17, 2024), we also listened to John’s account of the triumphal entry into Jerusalem.

To hear this message as preached in worship, please use the media player below:

To participate in worship via YouTube, please use this link:

“Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever.”  As we come to the last week in our study of the 23rd Psalm, I wonder how you hear that verse?  Does it bring anything in particular to mind?

Perhaps you’ve got some Baptist or Evangelical blood in you, and you’re already humming that old hymn by John Peterson: [singing] “Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days, all the days of my life…”

Now look, I sure don’t want to be critical of anyone else’s experience, but as catchy as that tune is, it doesn’t really do too much for me in terms of capturing the essence of this Psalm.  It’s a little too, well, ‘happy-clappy’ for me.

When I think of this verse, I am reminded of the 19th century British poet Francis Thompson’s classic work The Hound of Heaven.  Hey, what can I say? I was an English major…

In this 182 line ode, Thompson experiences the love and grace of God as a massive and powerful dog who resolutely chases him down the paths of his life.  It’s one of my favorite poems, although I would not call it a “happy” work.  Not long after its publication, a leading Catholic scholar wrote this:

The name is strange. It startles one at first. It is so bold, so new, so fearless. It does not attract, rather the reverse. But when one reads the poem this strangeness disappears. The meaning is understood. As the hound follows the hare, never ceasing in its running, ever drawing nearer in the chase, with unhurrying and unperturbed pace, so does God follow the fleeing soul by His Divine grace. And though in sin or in human love, away from God it seeks to hide itself, Divine grace follows after, unwearyingly follows ever after, till the soul feels its pressure forcing it to turn to Him alone in that never ending pursuit.

The reason that this old poem reminds me of the 23rd Psalm has to do with one Hebrew word, radaph, which is translated here as “follow” or “pursue”.  And I’ll get to that word in a moment.  First, I’d like to review the entirety of the Psalm and look at how it might reflect the life experiences of its author.

King David Playing the Harp (Gerard van Honthorst, 1622)

As we’ve seen in the past few weeks, Psalm 23 depicts the character of YHWH as a good shepherd who leads and guards the flocks for which YHWH cares.  The Lord refuses to abandon these vulnerable creatures even in the presence of the enemy; rather, the Shepherd promises to bring gifts of peace and security.

You may know this, but most of the Psalms, including this one, are attributed to David.  Perhaps you remember that, in addition to having a fantastic name, David led the people of Israel about a thousand years before Jesus was born.  What else do you know about David?

As a boy, he became a national hero.  While the mighty army of King Saul quaked in their tents, it was David, the shepherd boy, who defeated the giant named Goliath.  In the months and years after that, David became a real celebrity in Israel.  He was famous throughout the nation and even married the king’s daughter.  Everything was going great, until it wasn’t.  King Saul got jealous and tried to murder the young man more than once.  Instead of leading parades, David was forced to hide out in caves, in the wilderness, and even in cities belonging to the Philistines – Israel’s arch-enemy.

Eventually, of course, David becomes king himself, but that doesn’t prevent his own bone-headedness from messing up his life in all kinds of ways.  His marriages are, for the most part, disasters.  His kids, by and large, are all train wrecks. One of them even led an insurrection against his old man.  I think it’s fair to say that David, on more than one occasion, was a person who had it all, and then lost it in an instant.  He was acquainted with anxiety and stress and failure and disappointment – yet somehow, he was able to constantly turn and even return to God.

When David reflected on his life by writing the songs that we know as the Book of Psalms, he used the word radaph quite often.  Listen:

Psalm 7: “let my enemy pursue and overtake me; let him trample my life to the ground…”

Psalm 31: “… deliver me from the hands of my enemies, from those who pursue me…”

Psalm 109: “Appoint someone evil to oppose my enemy…for he never thought of doing a kindness, but hounded to death the poor and the needy and the brokenhearted.”

Psalm 142: “Rescue me from those who pursue me, for they are too strong for me.”

Psalm 143: “The enemy pursues me, he crushes me to the ground…”

When King David cries out to God for help, it is the enemy that pursues (radaph) him.  This dogged engagement and incessant attention is something that causes David great dis-ease throughout his life.  Here, in the 23rd Psalm, David asserts that God is a more persistent, more powerful pursuer than is the enemy.  As fierce as that pursuit is, it is no match for God’s presence and accompaniment on the journey.  In fact, while the enemy longs to impose death on King David, he attests that it is God who is present with and for him “all the days of my life” – a nice counterbalance.

In short, what I’m saying is that Psalm 23 was written by a man who was acquainted with suffering and anxiety, who knew that he’d had it good and feared that he’d screwed it up too many times to count.  David had burned bridges, broken trust, and even bailed on his children… and yet here he stands, proclaiming his trust in a God who is unwilling to abandon the pursuit of the beloved David.  Psalm 23 is an affirmation by a person who is confident in the knowledge of his own salvation – a saving that he has experienced again and again and again… David had learned over the years that he could live his life in a posture of trust because of the relentless love of God.

One scholar describes the Psalm this way:

The psalm’s confession is based on the salvation history of the people and expresses the individual’s participation in God’s ongoing salvific activity.  The trust expressed is not just a matter of mood.  Strength must be found, a way must be walked, harm and evil threatened.  Enemies persist.  That is the environment of trust. Trust is not a rosy, romantic, optimistic view of things.  Its foundations are prayer and thanksgiving and the story of salvation.  [As John Calvin wrote,] “There is a great difference between the sleep of stupidity and the repose which faith produces” (Calvin, 1:395).  (James Luther Mays, Interpretation Commentary on the Psalms (John Knox, 1994) pp. 118-119)

The Procession in the Streets of Jerusalem
James Tissot (c. 1890)

This same radical, profound trust is what steeled Jesus on the day that he entered Jerusalem for the last time.  On this day of Triumphal Entry, do you think that he knew that the crowds would turn against him?  Do you think that he knew that the political and religious establishment was hell-bent on putting him to death?  Do you think that he knew that his friends would betray, deny, and abandon him in short order?

What is he thinking as he sits on that donkey – that silly little donkey – and he moves forward with his plan to give his best for our worst?

As this week goes on, we will have the opportunity to consider many of the things that Jesus did or experienced.  We’ll enter into the intimacy of the Upper Room and celebrate the miracle of the Last Supper.  We will watch in horror as Judas sells out his friend Jesus for a few metal coins.  We will stand agape while Peter denies even knowing him.  We will witness numbly that horrid afternoon on which the Son of Man would be nailed to a tree.

We know that all of that is coming.

Don’t you think Jesus did, too?

Don’t you think that as he sits on that donkey at the beginning of this week that he sees the communion, the betrayal, the denial, and the death?  I can’t imagine that he doesn’t see those things.

But let me tell you what else he sees: he sees you.

You, in all of your pain, disorientation, grief, denial, giddiness, weariness, hopelessness, loneliness, pride, and triumph.  You are what Jesus is looking at today, as he embodies the Divine love that pursues you at this very moment.

Psalm 23 ends with an affirmation that all of God’s best intentions – God’s goodness, mercy, love, and justice – are for you even when (or perhaps especially when) you feel so far away from any of that.  Surely goodness and mercy will follow me… will pursue me… will doggedly keep track of me… will refuse to let me go… all the days of my life.

Let us hold fast to that, and give our lives to that kind of Divine love and forgiveness and hope.

Let us further seek to live in such a way so that the people who meet us might see in us, or sense in us, or receive from us that kind of love and mercy.

Thanks be to God for never, ever, giving up on us, or on those whom we love, or even on those whom no one loves.  Amen.

Who Is The Enemy?

During the season of Lent in 2024, the folks at The First U.P. Church of Crafton Heights are listening to the familiar verses of the 23rd Psalm in worship.  We are exploring what it means to have a shepherd who leads, guards, restores, encourages, and promises us.  On March 17, 2024, we also listened to God’s word as found in Luke 10:38-42.

Psalm 23 (As interpreted by Toki Miyashina, a Japanese poet in the 1960’s)

The Lord is my Pace-setter, I shall not rush,
He makes me stop and rest for quiet intervals.
He provides me with images of stillness, which restore my serenity.
He leads me in ways of efficiency through calmness of mind,
And His guidance is peace.
Even though I have a great many things to accomplish each day,
I will not fret for His presence is here.
His timelessness, His all importance will keep me in balance.
He prepares refreshment and renewal in the midst of my activity.
By anointing my mind with His oils of tranquility;
My cup of joyous energy overflows.
Surely harmony and effectiveness shall be the fruits of my hours.
For I shall walk in the pace of my Lord and dwell in His house forever.

In the first four verses of Psalm 23, we see the reassuring image of God as a shepherd.  In the last two weeks, we’ve talked about how the Holy One leads and guides the flock – us – to still waters and through dark valleys.

This morning, as we consider the fifth verse of that Psalm, we see that the metaphor changes.  God is now seen as the host.  In our culture, that is not necessarily a small thing; in ancient Palestine, however, being a host was a very big deal. The author of the Psalm tells us of God’s preparing abundance for God’s people: “You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies.  You anoint my head with oil.  My cup overflows.”

So God is a host who intends us to enjoy abundance – and let’s note the location of this feast to which we are invited – the table is set in the presence of the enemy.

I don’t know about you, but that probably wouldn’t be my first choice.  I’d surely like to enjoy the feast, but can’t we vanquish the enemy first?  I’d rather sit down to this repast after the one who has sought my demise has been embarrassed and put in their place.  How can I even enjoy this feast when the enemy is present?

As I think about how I behave when an enemy is around, I am thinking of one of the smallest antelopes on the African continent. I’ve been privileged to see the Steenbok in the wild.  That name comes from an old Dutch and Afrikaans word, stan, which means “stone” or even “statue”.   In addition to its diminutive size, there’s something fascinating about the Steenbok.  When a lion, leopard, hyena, or other predator arrives, the Steenbok’s first defense mechanism is to simply freeze – to become a statue.  It won’t blink, it won’t move a muscle – it will simply trust its camouflage to protect it.  If the predator moves in, only then will the antelope try to sprint away.

The 23rd Psalm presents the opposite posture.  Because we have a shepherd who walks with us not only toward the still waters, but also in the valley of the shadow of death, we are not in a position where we have to pretend that either we or our enemies do not exist.  We can move with some confidence and assurance even when our enemies surround us. God promises us the gift of refreshment and encouragement in the midst of those trying times.

I’m going to come back to this notion of the enemy in a bit, but let’s take a look at the rest of the verse first.

The host, we are told, will anoint our heads with oil.  This was a common practice in ancient times – a traveler would reach their destination and be welcomed with a little oil poured on their heads.  This was a refreshing and comforting balm after a long and probably dusty trip.  Not only that, but shepherds would also apply oil to the sheep in their care, as it offered the animals some protection from insects as well as soothing the skin.  God, we are given to understand, is a generous and caring host who seeks to provide refreshment and healing for us as we journey together.

And the final image in this verse is a cup that is not only full, but overflowing.  This is an affirmation that God seeks to provide more that we can imagine.  It is a picture of the extravagance of God that reminds me of the parable in the New Testament of the Lord who forgave an impossible debt, or perhaps of the day when one of Jesus’ friends broke open an expensive jar of oil and anointed Jesus with it – much to the dismay of those around them.

It would seem as though the apparent meaning of Psalm 23:5 is that God is a competent, generous host who wants to provide us with abundance, refreshment, and encouragement.  God is lavish.

Now, let’s return to the idea of the enemy.  Who are your enemies?  After all, the Psalm isn’t conditional.  It doesn’t say that God cares for me even if there are enemies around, or that God will encourage me if by some chance an enemy arises.  No, the Psalm discusses the presence of the enemy.  Who are yours?

Can you think of a nemesis worthy of the title “enemy”?  Do you have an enemy?  Maybe you can think of a former spouse or partner who seems hell-bent on making your life miserable; maybe you’re imagining a teacher who piles on the homework with great glee and no apparent awareness of the fact that you’ve got other classes, not to mention other responsibilities in life; or maybe you’re thinking of that neighbor with all of the irritating flags or yard signs – he is just so loudly and publicly wrong, and he doesn’t even recycle, for crying out loud…  Do you see faces like that when I ask you who your enemies are?

Or could it be, as I suspect, that most of us might say, “Enemy?  Oh, no, not really.  I wouldn’t say that I have enemies.  I get along with most folks pretty well.  I don’t like everyone, of course, but ‘enemy’?  Oh, that’s a bit harsh…”

Let’s look at the text.  The word that is used for “enemy” in Psalm 23 comes from the root tsaw-rar, and it is often translated as “adversary”.  It carries a literal meaning of “bind”, or “cramp”, or “tie up”.  The enemy, in this case, is the person or the thing that makes you feel unable to move without pain, that person or thing that leaves you feeling helpless and weak and small.

What in your world makes you feel like that?  What brings you that kind of dis-ease in your life?

Can you believe me – and the Psalmist – when I say that God’s intention is for you to be free from that?  To experience life without being held hostage to that kind of anxiety?

The passage that we considered from the Gospel describes a visit that Jesus made to his dear friends Mary and Martha.  Martha is increasingly and obviously agitated by the size of her to-do list and her sister’s apparent indifference to that list.  Jesus hears Martha’s frustration, and then offers support to each sister and invites Martha into a kind of peace and presence that will help her, eventually, to deal with all the things on her plate.  Jesus encourages Martha to not allow the hustle and bustle of the day to rob her of the strength that comes from sitting with and trusting Jesus in that very moment.

Listen: God prepares a table for you – a feast – the gifts of peace, of comfort, of enough – in the presence of your adversaries.  Even when, or perhaps especially when, you know that the enemy is out there and is active, God provides you with opportunities for rest and renewal.  You have known that from time to time – I know it.

Literally, it’s what happens after a funeral.  We do just about the hardest thing that we thought we could do, and we face the evil of death, and then we go down to the basement and eat cheesy potatoes and ham.  And there is laughter, and stories are told, and the goodness of life is reaffirmed.  This is the table of abundance even in the presence of the enemy that is death.

I’ve seen that in other places, too.  I know a woman whose son was arrested for selling heroin at the high school.  He called to have her come and get him out of jail, and she said, “Thank you for calling me.  I’m going back to bed and I’ll talk with you tomorrow.  For the last year I’ve worried about where you were and what you might be doing, and now I know that you’re in a place where you are unlikely to hurt anyone else.  I’m tired, and I’m going to rest.”  The enemy was still out there – but the gift of rest and peace was palpable in her voice as she told me that story.

What is it that threatens your peace, your joy, your sense of the presence of God?  What is your adversary?

It may be that colleague who simply can’t stop talking trash about you to anyone who will listen.  It may be a diagnosis that has you terrified about what may be coming next.  In those and a dozen other situations, the enemy is someone or something about which we can do very little.  When I am faced with enemies like that, and I am at my best, I seek to remember that God promises presence and abundance even when the enemy is quite close.  I pray.  I breathe.  I imagine that God’s power is holding that danger at bay at this very moment, and that it is powerless to interrupt the power of God.

In times like that, I have found a breath prayer to be very helpful.  I try to quiet my body and my mind by closing my eyes and breathing in through my nose for five or ten seconds, and as I do so, I ask God to give me peace and strength.  Then I exhale through my mouth for about the same period of time, asking God to take my anxiety and fear away from me – to expel them from my being.

Sometimes, all it takes is for me to be conscious of that which threatens my sense of God’s presence and to ask God to help me deal with it.

Other times, however, we can be confused about who the enemy is.  I mean, maybe we think that the guy with all the “offensive” bumper stickers and yard signs, the guy who votes the wrong way and gets on my last nerve every chance he has – that that guy is the enemy.  Yet perhaps the problem is magnified by our attention to our televisions and phones and social media feeds – those stimuli that are constantly pressuring us to be afraid of others, to be wary of a different opinion, and to be so completely and utterly right all the time.

As I sat with this text this week it occurred to me that maybe one of the greatest adversaries that God’s people face right now is our own participation in a culture of rushing and getting stuff done and spending and acquiring.  We are so plugged into our devices, watching for likes and shares, getting caught up in videos and reels and being angry at those people who are so obviously so wrong that we forget that we are invited by this amazing host to celebrate the wonder of this very moment.

That’s what I love about the way that Japanese poet Toki Miyashina paraphrased this Psalm.  It’s fifty years old, but I think that she has captured one of the truths of our day: we are pushed and prodded by so many external forces that we forget to be attentive to the shepherd who hosts us.

Let us praise God for glimpses of wholeness and hope even in the midst of difficult times, and let us pray for strength and wisdom to clear the clutter of our lives away in order that we might more fully participate in the goodness of life that God has given us.

Thanks be to God for the refreshment that we are offered.  May we embrace it this day, and may we share it with those we meet in the week that is to come.  Amen.

God in the Dark

During the season of Lent in 2024, the folks at The First U.P. Church of Crafton Heights are listening to the familiar verses of the 23rd Psalm in worship.  We are exploring what it means to have a shepherd who leads, guards, restores, encourages, and promises us.  On March 10, 2024, we also listened to God’s word as found in Isaiah 43:1-7

 To hear this message as preached in worship, please use the media player below:

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If I were to ask you to reach into my toolbox and hand me a pair of pliers, could you do that?  I mean, I know that neither of us is a home repair expert or an electrician, but I suspect that you know the basics, right?  You grasp the concept of the wrench, the hammer, and the screwdriver…

And when I bring the topic of pliers up in this context, you know what to visualize, I suspect. Pliers have handles, a jaw, some teeth, and often some sort of a cutter…

Yet what if you were to hand me a pair of “regular”, or slip-joint pliers and I were to reply, “No, that’s not it.  Hand me a water pump pliers or some fencing pliers”? Most of us know something about pliers, but in reality, very few of us are acquainted with all the ins and outs of these tools that so many people use each day.

Why does that matter?  I’ll tell you in a moment.

My Shepherd is the Lord, by Vicki Shuck (contemporary)

Last week, Emily introduced us to our Lenten preaching theme – the 23rd Psalm.  I hope you were here for her excellent message on God’s leadership in our lives, and that you found her proclamation of God’s trustworthiness and reliability resonated with your own life experience.

We know this text, and we love it!  In fact, this particular statement of God’s care for us is perhaps the one to which we turn when we are the most uncertain or afraid.  This text, more than any other, is the one I’m asked to read when I preach your funerals.

And you know that, too, don’t you?  On those days when we are most likely to be sad, tired, angry, grief-stricken, questioning – on THOSE days, we long to hear, and we need to hear someone intone, “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for Thou art with me; Thy rod and Thy staff, they comfort me.”

This means something, right?  To be able to picture God protecting us the way that a shepherd is willing to protect the flock? That’s just beautiful, isn’t it?

So let’s think for a moment or two about how the shepherd cares for the flock.  What are the tools at the shepherd’s disposal? Sure, the psalmist speaks of the rod and the staff, but do you know what those things are?  I’ll confess that as I engaged in the reading of this text this week, I was about as sure of those things as you were about the pliers a few moments ago.  Rod? Staff? You betcha.  I know what they are…ish!

In that place and time, the typical shepherd made use of these two particular tools in his daily work.  Each one was well-suited for the tasks at hand.

The rod (in Hebrew, the shay’-bet) was a relatively short, club-like device. This was very useful when the sheep were threatened by the jackals, hyenas, lions, or even bears that roamed the Palestinian countryside in those days.  When such a creature saw the sheep as an easy meal, the shepherd would step in and vanquish the attacker using the rod.  In addition, there are references to shepherds using their rod to both guide the sheep into the pen at night and to count them as they bedded down.  Jesus tells us that a good shepherd is willing to leave the 99 sheep to go search for one that is missing, but I’m sure the shepherds preferred to keep the flocks together.

The other instrument, the staff (mish’enah in Hebrew) was a long, slender stick, often with a curve or a hook at one end of it.  This tool was used to extend the reach of the shepherd.  If the staff was six feet long, that meant that the shepherd’s arm was effectively six feet longer.  Shepherds would use these staffs to rescue sheep from the brush or from wells or ravines into which they might have stumbled.  If a sheep became injured, the little hook on the end could gently lift it up.  In addition, these were wonderful to lift a new lamb to its mother without getting the scent of the shepherd on the newborn.  Finally, the staff was also used to guide the sheep as they walked across open pastures or up steep hills.

Maybe you knew all of that about rods and staffs, and maybe some of that was new for you.  In any case, is it any wonder that we want to hear those words on the worst days of our lives?  Don’t you need to know that God will protect you if harm comes your way, and that God cares so much for you that God counts you – God numbers you among God’s own?  Isn’t it important to remember that God will reach out to you, even when you feel impossibly far away, and that God will lift you to safety and restore you to the right place if by some chance you get lost?  That’s beautiful, isn’t it?

Yes!  Yes it is.  And I’m here to tell you that it’s even better than that because of one little word I’m going to teach you.  It shows up in verse four, and it’s most often translated here as “though”: “Yea, though I walk through the valley…”  The word is a conjunction – a small connecting word – and in Hebrew, it’s Ki.  That little word shows up nearly 4500 times in the Old Testament, and while it is translated variously as “though”, “that”, “when”, “surely”, “indeed” or a dozen other ways, it is used to describe a statement of fact.  Six times, for instance, in Genesis 1, we read that God speaks, that something happens, or is created as a result of that speech, and God ki – God announced – that it was good.  Ki is used here of God declaring something to be true.

A little later, in Genesis 4, God is instructing the humans in how to live after they leave the Garden of Eden, and God says, “ki – when – you cultivate the ground…”  God doesn’t say “if”, or “perhaps”.  God says ki – that it will be so.

When Moses sees the burning bush and hears the voice of the Lord, God says, “Take off your shoes, ki – because – the ground you’re on is holy”.  God doesn’t say it might be holy or it will become holy.  It simply is that way, right now.

Ki – that seemingly small word – is important because it tells us how things are.  And one of the reasons that we love Psalm 23 is because we need to hear that declaration of God’s care for us especially when we are so far away. We lovePsalm 23.  “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death…”  I’ve been in the valley of the shadow.  You’ve been there.  You’re going to be there again.

But if we stop to think about it long enough, or if we were to raise this in certain circles, it wouldn’t be too awfully long before someone is bound to say, “Wait – if God is such an amazing protector, then how did you get so deeply into trouble?  If God has that rod and staff and is willing to use them… then why do bad things happen to you, to me, or to the folks down the street?

And if we start to entertain those questions long enough, then someone is liable to bring up the school of thought that is prevalent in too many circles – the notion that God promises that we can be spared from any suffering at all.  Sometimes we refer to this brand of theology as the “prosperity gospel”, and it’s not hard to find practitioners of it on the television, the internet, or the book store.

God’s power is such, and God’s intent is such, that if you live your life the right way: if you believe the right stuff, if you give the right amount, then you will be spared from suffering.  If you have enough faith, you’ll be healed and your problems will be gone.

That’s a lie.

The prosperity gospel promises us a direct path to the good life.  If we hold all of the right beliefs about God, and follow the easy steps that God gives us, then the good life is ours for the taking.  There will be money in the bank account, our physical and mental health will be secured, our families will be perfect, and our work will be satisfying and rewarding.  The essence of this heresy is that if you pray, or believe, or live well that you will be rewarded for it.

And, according to this line of thought, if something does seem to be going wrong, well, that’s just a test of your true faith.  You know how that sounds, don’t you?  When something horrible happens, how long does it take for some moron to pop up and say, “Well, you know, we have to trust that this is all a part of God’s great and wonderful plan for your life.”  I pray to God that when your child dies that nobody comes up to you and says, “Well, I guess God needed another angel!”  As if that is the kind of shepherd we can trust…

The underlying appeal to this line of thinking is that we really, truly want to believe that we can be in charge.  We want to believe that we can chart our own courses through life, and that what happens to us is up to us, somehow.

But you know that’s not how it is, don’t you?  The psalmist reminds us here that we are the sheep, and not the shepherd.  We are the created, and not the creator.  We do not define the world, nor can we control our experience of that world at all times.

And I want to tell you that that amazing little conjunction, ki, is here to help us correct this mistaken view of the creation and of the creator.  We heard that word several times in our reading from Isaiah 43.

In this text, God affirms to God’s people, again, that God will always hold them and care for them.  God announces, again, that God’s people are a beautiful, special treasure.  And then God starts talking about life in the world – the real world – and God says, “When – ki – you cross the deep rivers and face the floods…”, and “when – ki – you have to walk through the fire…”  At those times – at the most hellish of times we can imagine – that then God will be present.

It’s not a question of whether we might somehow be spared from any suffering or pain in this world.  Those things are not conditional.  They are ki – they are how things are.  The miracle is not that we will lead charmed lives with no problems whatsoever.  The writer of Isaiah, like the Psalmist, points to a deeper promise.

“Because – ki – I am the Holy One of Israel…” we can “fear not, because – ki– I am with you.”

I am with you.  That is the wonder of our Creator.  That is the miracle of our lives.  The shepherd does not miraculously prevent the sheep from wandering into harm’s way.  The shepherd does not provide an environment that is free from lions or bears.

What does the shepherd do?  The shepherd stays with the sheep in those situations.

The Good News of the Gospel is not that we’ll never know problems or pain. The Good News of the Gospel is that at those times when we perceive ourselves to be at our worst, at the lowest point we might imagine – that then – even then – God promises to be with us and to be for us.

That is true for every single person in this room.

That is true for every mother in Gaza and every child in the Democratic Republic of Congo.  None of us are alone.  None of us is without hope.  None of us is forgotten.

We have a shepherd.  Let us stay close, and look toward, and follow where this Shepherd leads, and let us trust him for everything.  Thanks be to God for offering us the gift and assurance of God’s presence now and forever!  That is ki – that is how things are.  Amen.