United Methodist activists form a human shield to block demonstrators from Westboro Baptist Church on May 4 outside the 2012 United Methodist General Conference. All rights reserved by United Methodist News Service

As a United Methodist clergyperson, I followed our General Conference. Maybe I should say “loosely followed.” I’m not one who enjoys administrative process, I see it as a necessary evil, so I was not an intent observer. The lead pastor of the church I serve was an alternate delegate hosting a blog for our conference delegation, and most of my news came from him. That is until Thursday, my day off, when I popped onto the official website.

On Friday news came through Twitter that the Westboro Baptist Church folks were across the street from the convention center in Tampa where the conference was being held with their signs of condemnation – announcing what they believe God hates. One Twitter post reported that across the street there was a single person holding up a sign that said, “God loves everyone.” I have no idea if that is true, but I sure hope it is.

I firmly believe love is greater than hate, and one person can make a difference. The Bible reminds us, “Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good” (Romans 12:21).

I don’t know the answer to these issues within our church, but I do know this: “He loves us! Oh, how he loves us!” Sinful though we are, he loves us.

It is so easy to get so focused on the sins of others that we lose sight of the fact that we are all sinners. That was the point of Jesus famous illustration about trying to take the speck out of another’s eye with a plank in our own (Matthew 7:1-5; Luke 6:41-42).

I’m a sinner. You’re a sinner. Everyone you meet today will be a sinner. But we are loved and forgiven by grace greater than our sin. May we love one another as God has loved us.

Love>Hate. Pass it on.

Back in March, a few weeks ago, the advertising people at Reebok got themselves in trouble when posted these advertisements at several Reebok gyms in Germany. The line on the ad is this, “Cheat on your girlfriend, not on your workout.” I think they were going for funny, but missed. Instead of producing laughter, they induced rage. The ad went viral online, Reebok received complaints from across the globe, and quickly removed the ads with a brief apology.

One blogger at the Huffington Post wrote: “What’s more important: your abs or your long-term relationship? One of Reebok’s new ad campaigns weighed in on that question (which no one was really asking?)” (Misener). True, no one asks which to cheat on, but questions about sexuality are a hot topic.

As we have come here this morning, Pastor Bob is with about a thousand United Methodists from across the globe who have gathered in Tampa, Florida for the once-every-four-years meeting of our denomination called General Conference. While there are hundreds of pieces of legislation being considered – including some that directly affect our clergy, the structure of our boards and agencies, and more – the ones that get the lion’s share of the press and chatter on blogs, Twitter, and Facebook are ones about sexuality. Specifically, the General Conference will again be addressing our denominational statement on homosexuality. As same-sex marriage becomes legal issue in some states, we need to decide what the role of the church will be – where do we offer grace, and where do we take a stand. I am not going to talk about our denominational statement on homosexuality today, but Lust, our “sin of the week” in our series Sinning Like a Christian, gives me an opportunity to begin addressing issues of human sexuality.

While we don’t talk about it much in church, there are few other issues that grab our attention the way human sexuality does. In his book Sinning Like a Christian William Willimon writes, “[ancient church father, Thomas] Aquinas notes that there is something about the sin of Lust, particularly in others, that seems to attract…Christian moral curiosity… In one week Congress spent more energy debating the outrage of Janet Jackson’s exposure at the Super Bowl than it did in debate about the…then current war with Iraq” (Willimon 136). We are still talking about that “wardrobe malfunction” from the 2004 Super Bowl as a case regarding it was to be heard by the Supreme Court last week.

With all of this focus, it is tempting to spend our time talking about our over-sexualized culture – how girls barely through puberty are sexualized, as happened to Britney Spears and Lindsey Lohan. Then we as a culture are shocked by what happens to them. I could talk about how this week in a checkout line I saw a copy of People Magazine with a picture of former Disney star Zac Efron with the title “Hotter Than Ever. Zac Efron Grows Up.” I could bemoan the fact that pornography remains one of the biggest online money makers, and has clogged up so much of the internet that a new domain extension of .xxx was started earlier this year. But that is not our goal in this series.

In this series we are talking about Sinning Like a Christian. Which means we are looking at our sins, not someone else’s. Instead of talking about something out there, we want to address the sin in our own life, how it affects us. I admit it would be easier, safer, and far more comfortable to talk about other people’s sexuality. But today we address our own. I said a couple of weeks ago that this series will probably make us squirm, here we go.

Matthew 5: The Sermon on the Mount

When Jesus address lust in the sermon on the mount, he is blunt (Matthew 5:27-29, Msg):

You know the next commandment pretty well, too: ‘Don’t go to bed with another’s spouse.’ But don’t think you’ve preserved your virtue simply by staying out of bed. Your heart can be corrupted by lust even quicker than your body. Those leering looks you think nobody notices—they also corrupt.

Let’s not pretend this is easier than it really is. If you want to live a morally pure life, here’s what you have to do: You have to blind your right eye the moment you catch it in a lustful leer. You have to choose to live one-eyed or else be dumped on a moral trash pile.

There is no wiggle room in that statement. He doesn’t say it is OK to do a little “window shopping,” or “innocent flirtation.” Jesus, instead, employs hyperbole to make his point. Beyond saying don’t do it, Jesus says when you catch your eye wandering, pluck it out. While I don’t read this literally, if I did I would have no eyes and no hands which he also says to chop off if they sin, I note how seriously Jesus takes this sin our culture takes so lightly.

As he often does throughout the gospels, Jesus challenges our assumptions that we are good because we obey the letter of the law. Rather than congratulating us for our faithfulness, he points out how all of us we fall short of what God has in store for us. Our willpower is incapable of saving us which we can clearly see as we begin to think about lust. We must rely on the grace of God.

We tend to think of lust as a young man’s problem, but lust is an “equal opportunity” tempter. Bishop William Willimon, a man in his 60s writes, “lust seems to require more conscious effort after sixty than at sixteen” (Willimon 23), but it is still an issue. Women are also sometimes given a pass. While it is true that men are more visually stimulated than women, we also hear of bachelorette parties getting out of hand. Author Stephen Arterburn has written several books calling our struggles with lust Every Man’s Battle, Every Woman’s Battle, Every Young Man’s Battle, Every Young Woman’s Battle, Every Single Man’s Battle… Clearly Arterburn, who has studied this area of human behavior, knows that lust is no respecter of persons.

While we may struggle with this issue in differing degrees, there was not a person in Jesus’ audience, nor an adult here today, who has not had those thoughts at one time or another. As we have been able to say every week in this series, we have all been there.

I remember when I was a seminary student and appointed as a student-pastor to serve two small churches in southern New Jersey – West Creek & Warren Grove United Methodist Churches. I had been serving there for about 6 months when I found myself interested in one of the young women in the congregation – scary ground for a young, single pastor. I thought it would be wise to consult a couple of my friends in seminary if they thought it would be OK for me to ask her out. So over lunch one day, I posed the question.

One of my “friends” immediately said, “Oh, so you’ve been doing some lusting from the pulpit, hey Joe?” “No,” I said, and meant it. After some more conversation the three of us decided it would be ok to ask her out, and we dated for a little while. Then we got married, had two kids, moved to Colorado, you know the rest of the story. But was I lusting? Twenty-one years later, I remember that question like it was yesterday. I’m still not sure I answered honestly.

Don’t Dwell

How do you stop lust? Well, the truth is, you don’t. Lustful thoughts are involuntary, they just happen. Martin Luther, the priest credited with beginning the reformation and founding the Lutheran Church in the 16^th century, is reported to have used the following analogy:

“You cannot keep birds from flying over your head but you can keep them from building a nest in your hair.”

Interesting way to put it, but I think I get his point. The thoughts are inevitable, but we can choose not to dwell on them, not to let them nest in our hair.

Years ago, Larry Flint, publisher of Hustler magazine and other pornographic material, justified his livelihood by saying he was providing a service. He rationalized that he was giving people a “safe” outlet for some of their sexual desires. He reasoned it was better to keep those thoughts in the realm of fantasy, rather than something they might act out – victimizing another.

Today we know that outlet is not “safe.” When we all those birds to nest, they have a way of becoming all-consuming. We have, unfortunately, known of those who have had their lives ruined by an addiction to their lustful thoughts. They have spent nights in front of a glowing computer screen. They have squandered time, money, jobs and marriages due to their addiction. It didn’t start full-blown. It started with a look here, and a glance there, thoughts that were allowed to nest.

Some have taken it a step farther and acted on their lustful thoughts – having an affair has changed their lives. Moments of pleasure that have undone a lifetime of work, and destroyed hopes and dreams of the future. When we allow the birds to nest, they do a great deal of harm.

Creation

One of the things you have been hearing from Bob and I over the course of the last several months in sermons and classes, is how our common thought process of dividing a person up into body, mind, and spirit is not a Biblical concept.

Think about the creation story. The Bible does not say God made human bodies and then took the eternal souls of Adam and Eve and placed them inside of those bodies. Rather the Bible says in Genesis 1, “So God created humankind in his image, in the image of God he created them; male and female he created them” (Gen 1:27), and in Genesis 2 “the Lord God formed man from the dust of the ground, and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life; and the man became a living being” (Gen 2:7). Human beings are created wholly and completely by God in a one-step process. We are made in God’s image with body, mind, and spirit all integrated as an inseparable whole.

When we understand ourselves as whole people, we can no longer separate what we do or what we think from who we are. We see this happen from time to time. For example, we have heard of those who have been able to have same-sex relationships and then say but they are not homosexual. One can only think this way with a divided understanding of personhood. Body acting one way, brain thinking another, neither affecting the essence of who we are. I do this, or think this, but this is not who I am. Biblically speaking, it doesn’t work that way.

We too can get caught in that thinking. We rationalize that we are good people because we know that what we do is wrong. We look, we fantasize, we let the birds of lust nest in our hair for a short time – but somehow convince ourselves that is not who we are. Our bodies acting one way, our lives going another.

This is what Jesus is driving at, is it not? “Everyone who looks at a woman with lust,” Jesus says, “has already committed adultery with her in his heart” (Matthew 5:28). Just because you have kept your body in check, doesn’t mean that you are not sinning. We, like the Pharisees, want to separate mind, from body, and spirit. Jesus won’t let us have it that way. You and I are single, complete people of body, mind, and spirit all integrated.

Romans 12

You may have been surprised by the Bible reading this morning. Knowing we were going to talk about lust, you probably assumed we would look, as we already have, at Matthew 5:27-29 from the Sermon on the Mount; maybe you expected a verse from Leviticus; the story of Sodom and Gomorrah; David’s lusting for Bathsheba or one of those passages from the New Testament about how we need to keep our sexuality in check. But I felt called to go another route by looking at Romans 12.

In chapter 11 Paul praises God for the way he brings different people together into one church. For Paul specifically, he is talking about how the church is filled with both Jews and Gentiles. The Romans, who are Gentiles, have been accepted as part of the church even though they were not part of the original promise made to God’s chosen people. He reminds us how we are more alike than separate, “For God has imprisoned all in disobedience so that he may be merciful to all” (Romans 11:32). Jewish or Gentile, rich or poor, male or female, younger or older, upstanding citizen or outcast – all are joined in their disobedience and the mercy they have received from God.

After recognizing the sinfulness of us all, Paul opens chapter 12 with these words, “I appeal to you therefore, brothers and sisters, by the mercies of God, to present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God” (Romans 12:1). You and I are to give our bodies to God. Interesting concept. When I have read this in the past, I have often mentally substituted the word “lives” for “bodies.” This fits what I have been taught about giving my “life” to Jesus. But that is not what the text says. The word is clearly bodies.

The Gentile Romans would have believed in that divided self – spirit good, body and mind potentially bad. It was a common belief in the Roman world that our bodies and our essence/spirit/soul were brought together for a time, but remained separate entities.

Paul won’t let them stay there. God doesn’t just want your spirit or essence or whatever you want to call it. He wants all of you, including your body. So he asks us to present our bodies to God so they too may be used by him for his glory. Again, what we do with our bodies matters.

That passage goes on, and watch what Paul does. He opens by talking about presenting our bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, “which,” he then writes, “is your spiritual worship” (Romans 12:1). This sacrificial presentation of our physicality is somehow a spiritual act of worship. Body and spirit are not separate. They are intimately connected.

This drastically widens our understanding of worship. Typically when we think about worship, we think about that which goes on inside of us. We worship when we come together here on a Sunday morning to sing, read, and listen to the message. We might think about worship when we pray each morning and night, or when we do our devotions at home. We might think about worship when we listen to a worship song on KBIQ or a read a book about our spiritual lives. When we are up here on a Sunday morning singing, and we close our eyes and really get into it someone will say, “You were really worshipping up there today.”

When we present our bodies as a spiritual act of worship, we begin to see what we do as part of our worship experience. So when we workout we are worshipping. When we smile at the kid in King Soopers we are worshipping. When we are driving, chatting, waiting in line, paying bills, making dinner, sitting in study hall… Wherever we find ourselves we have an opportunity to worship. What we do with our bodies can be a spiritual act of worship as we offer them to God.

In this one verse Paul teaches us of the interconnectedness of body and spirit. But he is not done. Listen to the next verse: “Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your minds” (Romans 12:2). Body, spirit, and now mind. All working together. Offer your body as spiritual worship and be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Body, mind, and spirit. We cannot compartmentalize – acting and thinking one way, and trusting that we are good with God because God has our spirit or soul. It does not work that way. God doesn’t want part of us. God wants it all.

So when we allow the lustful thoughts to “nest in our hair,” that creates not just a thought problem, but also a spiritual problem. We cannot fool ourselves into believing that just because we keep it in realm of the fantasy – all in our mind – that it is not effecting our spirit and body. We must remain chaste in our bodies, and our minds and spirits also.

In his book The Jesuit Guide to (Almost) Everything: A Spirituality for Real Life, Jesuit priest James Martin devotes an entire section to the priestly vow of chastity and celibacy. He recounts a conversation explaining this vow to a friend who asks a very poignant question, “What about lust?” What does a priest do with lustful thoughts? Do they have them?

Martin replies, “Well, the chaste person still has his (or her) head turned by an attractive person and still longs for sex. We’re human, after all. But when that happens, you remind yourself of a few things. First, it’s natural. Second, the life you’ve chosen does not allow for that. And third, if you’re completely overcome with a constant desire for sexual intimacy, then something may be missing from your affective life” (Martin 221) – meaning that a need for connection with God may be surfacing in an unhealthy way – longing to connect with another inappropriately.

That second one intrigues me: “the life you’ve chosen does not allow for that.” For Martin chastity is a choice, not about giving up love, but instead choosing to love in a different way. Earlier in the chapter he explains, “One of the main goals of chastity is to love as many people as possible as deeply as possible” (Martin 219). But that love is a different type of love that is devoid of physicality. It is a love that loves the whole person – body, mind, and spirit – and doesn’t just focus on body to body.

Loving outside of a romantic relationship

Martin shares some ways to love outside of the context of a romantic relationship (Martin 227-229).

First, listen compassionately. Listening is a lost art today. We are much better at arguing than listening. We often think of conversations in terms of winning and losing, or about solving and figuring out problems. We undervalue the love-act of listening.

I am convinced that you and I are surrounded by people longing to be heard. They don’t need or want advice, help, or support. They are simply longing for someone to take the time to completely hear them – what they are feeling, thinking, contemplating, doubting, or maybe even experiencing confusion over. When lust is put aside, we become better listeners.

Being present is another way we can love with no romantic involvement. Like compassionate listening, presence requires our full attention. No television, no checking text messages, no eavesdropping on the other conversation in the room, no checking the clock because you have other things to do. Just be there for the other.

We can also do something practical, or I would say, get involved in the other person’s life. Take the initiative and help out.

Fourth he says outside of romantic thoughts we can love freely, meaning we can give our love without any expectation for return. You know those thoughts we have from time to time about how those whom we love ought to do this or that. Usually we don’t think about it as reciprocal, but that’s not far beneath the surface. If they cared, they would… In a “chaste love” there is no expectation of return. We can give and give and give.

Fifth, we can forgive as an act of love.

And finally, we can pray. Prayer for another’s pain and brokenness.

Lust, our focus on the physical, gets in the way of that. Our love for the other is no longer about them. It is about us and our desires. Lust, when indulged, is selfish at its core – focused on us and not the other. We need to put aside our lustful thoughts, so that we can genuinely connect with the person, the whole person, in front of us.

Naming our sin

Willimon speaks of our sin this way,

“Sorry, if you thought church was a place where we come to work at avoiding sin. Church is where we come to name our sin” (Willimon 136).

So today we come to name our sin and confess there are times when we don’t see the person in front of us, but instead see a body. There are times we have allowed the birds to nest in our hair, even for just a little while. There are times our sensual feelings have blocked our ability to share the love of Jesus in the ways we should. We haven’t listened, we haven’t been there, we haven’t helped, forgiven, or prayed, and we have gotten angry when the love has not been returned. In short, you and I have sinned.

One of the things I hope this series is doing for you is helping you to recognize the sin in your lives. Now, I know the church has a reputation of being the place where you come to feel guilty, and that is not what I want to do here. It is not about guilt. Rather it is about seeing ourselves as one of the many who are not beyond the capacity for sin.

When I read the stuff coming out of our General Conference, or I see church picketers, or I hear condemning words from fellow Christians toward those with whom they disagree – I hear a self-righteousness that goes against all that Jesus came to tell us. Maybe their sin isn’t your sin, but you have sin in your life as well. Pride, Envy, Lust (which we have talked about so far), Gluttony (which Pastor Bob will talk about next week), Anger, Sloth, and Greed are inside of us all. It is so tempting to become like the Pharisees and see the sin in the other without recognizing our own.

I hope we are all coming away convicted that we too are sinners. But I want you to be equally convicted of the grace of God.

Willimon tells the story of a Disciple Bible Study class where one of the members talked about how much they had been dreading getting to Leviticus. “I had heard that Leviticus had some harsh things to say about people like me. As you know, Leviticus doesn’t approve of my sexual orientation. But then I read Leviticus, the whole of it. And I’ll just say this. Leviticus is not only down on some of the things I do, it’s down on just about everything!”

Another responded, “I think it’s sort of wonderful that we have a God who wants all of us, who cares about what we do in a bedroom or a boardroom, the living room and the kitchen, a God who wants us to show love, not only to one another, but even to animals in the barn. God wants it all” (Willimon 144).

Maybe we could say that better. He doesn’t wall all of it, he wants all of you. Yes, he wants you. Even those lustful thoughts that no one knows about but you, do not exclude you from his amazing love. God loves you just as you are, but too much to let you stay that way.

Bibliography

Martin, James. The Jesuit Guide to (almost) Everything: A Spirituality for Real Life. New York: HarperCollins, 2010.

Misener, Jessica. The Huffington Post. “Reebok ‘Cheat On Your Girlfriend’ Campaign Gets Pulled For Obvious Reasons” at http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2012/03/21/reebok-cheat-on-your-girlfriend-ad_n_1369648.html#s814019

Willimon, William H. Sinning Like a Christian: A New Look at the Seven Deadly Sins. Nashville: Abingdon, 2005. Kindle edition.

Unless otherwise noted, all quotations of Scripture are from the New Revised Standard Version available online at http://bible.oremus.org.

Loosely based on Donald Miller’s memoir of the same name, Blue Like Jazz is a coming of age story that dares to address the maturation of one’s Christian faith. When the answers he has been given no longer satisfy his biggest questions, when people he was taught were “sinners” seem an awful lot like him, when pillars of his faith crumble, and when he becomes embarrassed by his apparently disconnected faith, Don begins to explore what role he will allow Jesus to play in his adult life.

The writing, acting, and overall feel of the film are so good, that one can easily related to every character and plot point. I felt their pain, joy, and tension. This is a well crafted movie.

In the interest of full disclosure, you should know I wanted to like this movie. I am a Donald Miller fan. I have read Blue Like Jazz twice, A Million Miles in a Thousand Years twice, Searching for God Knows What, Through Painted Deserts, and To Own a Dragon. I follow Miller on Twitter (@DonaldMiller) and subscribe to his blog (donmilleris.com). I am also a fan of Steve Taylor (director) from his days as a recording artist. I own Squint (saw a show on that tour), Liver, Now the Truth Can Be Told, and used to have a handful of his cassettes back in the day. While I would have liked to have been a backer of Blue Like Jazz, I am not.

When the plot felt slow in the beginning and some of the special effects seemed a little cornball, I was concerned I was going to be disappointed. I was not. Blue Like Jazz is a movie I will come back to again and again. The storytelling is tremendous, and even the less than state-of-the-art special effects help with the overall feel of the film.

To put is succinctly Blue Like Jazz moved me. I left the theater inspired by what the church could be, despite our sinfulness. I felt called to open my eyes to the pain around me every day. I got into my car longing for a genuine faith that reaches out in love and service to the world.

I recommend Blue Like Jazz for those in the church ready to be challenged, and those outside of the church who wrestle with questions of how faith can be part of our everyday living.

On April 8, 1912, a ship set sail for New York from Southampton, England for it’s maiden voyage. The ship is one we know well: the RMS Titanic. The name was appropriate, for this ship was like none other. At 882 feet long, and weighing over 46,000 tons, it was enormous. It’s amenities were also over-the-top, extravagant, like nothing before. The Titanic was also built with 1912, state-of-the-art technology. Reviews, like those appearing in the Belfast Morning News and Shipbuilder said things like, “The Captain may, by simply moving an electric switch, instantly close the doors throughout and make the vessel practically unsinkable.”

Practically unsinkable, they said, and so it’s reputation began as the unsinkable ship. The manufacturer and owner of the Titanic, White Star Line, never made the claim themselves, but they may have “believed their own press,” as most others seemed to buy into.

At the dawn of the 20^th century, technology was moving fast and travel was one arena that was benefitting. Orville and Wilbur Wright had successfully achieved the first manned flight in 1903; Henry Ford was mass producing cars, making them more prevalent; and travel by ship was becoming more luxurious and safer. Some began, as Pastor Bob wrote in a recent article for Homiletics, to believe “humanity could conquer any challenge of nature with technology. For example, Titanic’s captain, Edward Smith, had commented a few years earlier that the nature of ‘modern shipbuilding’ in the 20^th century rendered sinking a near impossibility. ‘I cannot imagine any condition which would cause a ship to founder,’ he said. ‘I cannot conceive of any vital disaster happening to this vessel. Modern shipbuilding has gone beyond that’” (Kaylor).

We, of course, know the fate of the Titanic and all of its technology. One-hundred years ago today, April 15, 1912, the RMS Titanic hit an iceberg and the “unsinkable ship” sank in the frigid waters of the North Atlantic, killing more than 1,500 of the 2,224 people on board – not including Kate Winslet and Leonardo DiCaprio.

Was it pride that contributed to the wreck of the Titanic? A case can be made that overconfidence in the technology may have at least been a contributing factor. Consider this:

• Titanic had received several transmissions from other ships there were ice floes in the vicinity, yet she continued to speed ahead at full throttle.
• Titanic’s rudder was 30-40% too small for a vessel of its size, which meant, when the iceberg was first sighted, the ship could not steer quickly enough to avoid it.
• Titanic’s bulkheads were designed to top out at only ten feet above the water line instead of reaching all the way to the upper decks. This meant when the ship began to sink, the water flooded adjacent sections that were still intact, sinking her more quickly.
• J. Bruce Ismay, the chairman of the White Star Line, was on the voyage, and some reports say he persuaded Captain Smith to keep sailing despite the hole in the ship’s hull, sinking her faster than if she had stood still. Had Titanic stopped at the point of impact, the eventual rescue ship, Carpathia, may have arrived in time to transfer passengers and crew without loss of life. Ismay was widely criticized for making it to a lifeboat, while many others perished.
• Harland and Wolff, the parent company of the White Star Line, had suggested using a different kind of davit (the small crane used to launch lifeboats) in the ship’s design, which would have allowed Titanic to carry 48 lifeboats with more than enough room for passengers and crew. But while the White Star Line spared no expense in the ship’s amenities for its wealthy passengers, the company cut costs by mounting only 20 lifeboats on Titanic — only enough for 52% of the people on board. Even when those lifeboats were lowered that night, some were only half full (Kaylor).

Perhaps, while never actually saying it, the manufacturer, owner, and captain of the Titanic began to believe they had conquered the danger and the ship was indeed unsinkable. We can be guilty of much the same thing – believing we can indeed do anything.

Introduction to Sinning Like a Christian

Today we begin a new sermon series called Sinning Like a Christian where we are looking at the seven deadly sins. We borrowed the title of the series from a book by United Methodist Bishop William Willimon. Sinning Like a Christian sounds odd doesn’t it? We tend to think that Christians don’t sin. Don’t kid yourself. Christians sin.

Karl Barth, a 20^th century theologian, said, in essence, only Christians are capable of sin because “there is no knowledge of sin except in the light of Christ’s cross” (Willimon 11). We, the followers of Jesus, are aware of just how short we fall from the people we were created to be. We might be able to look around us and compare ourselves to others and feel pretty good about how our sins aren’t “as bad” or “as many” as those around us. But we cannot deny we sin.  If humans were capable of not sinning, there would be no need for the cross of Jesus.

That is what makes looking at this list of deadly sins so uncomfortable. These are someone else’s sins. They are ours. Look at the list – Pride, Envy, Anger, Sloth, Greed, Gluttony, and Lust. Who among us can say we don’t struggle with them? We may not steal, and feel good, but each of us has felt “green with envy” when we encounter the person who seems to have it all, or at least what we want. We may have never been in a fist fight, but we have all felt our hands clench with white-hot anger. We may workout every day, but we have also stuffed ourselves to a point of gluttony on the third Thursday in November. And while we may not be addicted to pornography, we all have our favorite actor or actress who does something for us.

It would be far more comfortable, and easy, to talk about the “bigger” sins like murder, drug addiction, and the like. But those are someone else’s sins, not mine. This series is about our sins, Christian sins.

While I hope you will continue to come out for this series, I do want to warn you: these sermons will make each of us squirm a little from time to time. But, take heart, no one will squirm more than the preacher of the day. You may want to come out just for that. When asked why so many people came to hear him preach, John Wesley reportedly replied, “I set myself on fire and they come to watch me burn.” Maybe your motivation for the next few weeks will not be to watch us burn, but to see us squirm.

As Bob wrote for last week’s Weekly Beacon, neither he nor I consider ourselves experts in overcoming these sins. Rather we might be regarded as Paul called himself “chief of sinners.” We struggle too, and part of our discomfort will be sharing where we struggle with these seven.

The seemingly normal, innocent nature of these sins is what indeed makes them so deadly. We have all been there. We have all felt them. We have all succumbed at times. Because of this, we have come to accept them, and consider them normal. But they go deeper. These seven serve as the “gateway sins” to things far more serious. Adultery starts with lust. Alcoholism is a form of gluttony. Wars are started over greed. The list could go on and on. These sins are the cause behind our sinful actions. Get these in check and you are well on your way.

Before we go on, let’s quickly define what we mean by sin. In common parlance we think of sin as something harmful to us or someone else. That is true, but sin is also much more. Sin is an offense to God. It separates us from God, and hurts God. So when we address sin, we are not simply talking about practical advice, i.e. how conquering gluttony you will get you the physique you always dreamed of. Rather we will address these seven as signs of our relationship with God being out of whack and how these sins strain our relationship with God.

Pride

So let’s get started with the sin of the day. We begin the series addressing the first sin listed, the one the ancients said was the “root” of the all the rest – Pride.

Right away we are confronted with a “deadly sin” that doesn’t seem very deadly. Pride is commonly seen as a virtue. We work to instill pride in our children. I remember when my kids were young and watching Blue’s Clues, Steve would tell them every day, “You can do anything that you want to do.” We want our children to have a healthy self-esteem.

As a society we celebrate the confident, the ones who get the job done. Whether it is the guy dancing in the end zone, the golfer pumping his fist, or the salesperson celebrating the big sale. We strive to be confident, attending seminars where we are told “if you can dream it, you can achieve it.”

We even talk positively of pride in the context of national pride, corporate pride, and may even have a little church pride. All of that sounds good, so why does pride get labeled not only as one of the deadly sins, but as the root of them all?

Preparing for this series, Bob and I discussed how we needed to address our own issues with these sins as we preach them. So, in recent days I have been reflecting on my pride. I found that difficult. I even told someone this is a tough one for me because pride is not a big issue in my life. If anything, I said, I tend to wrestle more with self-esteem issues, never thinking I quite measure up or meet expectations, than pride issues. Sounds like a statement of someone who is pretty proud of their humility. I thought about speaking to that, but it got confusing.

Then I realized where my pride comes in. My instinctual response when someone asks if they can help me is always no. I want to be capable of handling anything. I want to maintain a facade of always having it all together.

I think clergy especially struggle with this. For example, over the years I have noticed how infrequently pastors participate in the church’s prayer requests. Spouses will often submit prayer requests, but the pastors themselves seldom do. Certainly this is not because we do not have the same struggles as everyone else, go through the same hurts, feel the same sorrows, need the same forgiveness. For some reason though, we don’t share them. Maybe it is because we like to keep our private stuff private. Or maybe we like to perpetuate the myth we have this deep relationship with God and thereby don’t need others to pray for us. We can pray for ourselves. In the process we shut out our brothers and sisters in Christ.

I am fully aware today, in a way I was not earlier this week, that my pride keeps me from allowing my vulnerability to be exposed by asking for the help I need. I want to do it myself.

I do it myself

I remember, when my kids were small, hearing one of the favorite phrases of every toddler: “I do it myself.” You are trying to dress them when suddenly they whip around, turning their back to you as they say, “I do it myself.” Then they take what feels like ten minutes to button the four buttons of their shirt. Or you notice an untied shoe while walking in the mall and you say, “Let me tie it for you.” But no, “I do it myself.” Again what would have taken you five seconds takes five minutes. It is so good we have that instinct built into us when we are toddlers, or else we would still need someone to dress us and tie our shoes.

But at 47, shouting like a 2-year-old, “I do it myself” is not helpful. It can be detrimental to us to be so stubbornly self-sufficient. We can buy our own hype, believe we can do anything, ignore the warnings, and eventually sink the Titanic. Pride can take us down. As the Bible says, “Pride goes before destruction” (Proverbs 16:18).

Remember though, sin is not only about what it does to us. It is instead about what it does to, or says about, our relationship with God.

First, my pride cuts me off from my brothers and sisters in Christ. That famous illustration the Apostle Paul uses both in Romans and 1 Corinthians of the church being the “body of Christ.” The point of that illustration is that none of us can go it alone. To be fully functioning followers of Jesus, we need to be connected. My pride keeps me separate from others. It also keeps me separate from God.

Here’s how this attitude plays out in my relationship with God. Sometimes when I come to God in prayer, I am embarrassed by the situation I find myself in. So like Adam and Eve who try to hide from God in a bush, I don’t mention the embarrassing stuff in prayer, as if God will miss it if I don’t bring it up.

I know many of the struggles I have are of my own doing. Financial trouble? I am the one who has mismanaged my money. Not feeling well? I am the one who eats to excess and has this weight problem. Friend issue? I’m the one who said the stupid thing that upset them. Why should I ask God to get me out of messes of my own making?

I was raised under the adage, “You made this mess. You clean it up.” So I feel a responsibility to work on my problems myself. How dare I ask God to help me with a problem I made. I need to fix it myself. So I don’t bring my issues to the very one who can help me with them. Ah, pride.

I fight this instinct every time I close my eyes in prayer. Pride.

In Willimon’s book (41f) he tells of a Jewish friend who is fond of saying, “Jews have two major beliefs: (1) there is a God; (2) you are not it.”

Pride can take us to a place where we, in essence, become our own God. Maybe you are functioning that way. I know I can. Talking a lot about God, but not relying on him for many aspects of my life. Trying to prove to him like the toddler, “I can do it myself.”

I think this is what Paul is getting at in our scripture reading from Philippians for today. Philippi was a retirement community for those who had served in the Roman Army. Retired veterans were given a grant of land as a reward for their years of service. So the city to whom this letter is addressed would have been filled with people who were quite confident in the power of Rome, impressed with their service in its military, and feeling like they could conquer anything.

To these people Paul writes, “Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility regard others as better than yourselves” (Philippians 2:3), and goes on to say they should empty themselves of all the power, privilege, and prestige they cling to as Jesus emptied himself and took the position of slave and dying the death of a criminal.

Humility

If Pride is the sin, humility is the virtue. The Bible tells us several times we need to be humble. God tells the Israelites to remember they were once slaves and aliens, and therefore to treat the foreigners among them with respect and dignity. In Micah (6:8) we read, “He has told you, O mortal, what is good; and what does the Lord require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God?” Jesus tells us to love our neighbors as ourselves (Matthew 22:39, Mark 12:31), and when we are invited to a wedding banquet – a symbol he often uses for the Kingdom of God – we are not to take the place of honor at the table, but are to choose the lowest place (Luke 14:7-11).

But you have to be careful there too. You can get proud of your humility. This is sadly the case, is it not? Pride can taint “even our deeds of ‘justice’ and ‘virtue’” (Willimon 40). Let me give you another glimpse into my warped mind.

I know there are many pastors who find the parking spot farthest from the front door of the church and make it “their spot.” On Sunday mornings they park their car out in the wilderness. I know this because in a sermon somewhere along the way, most of them will point it out. The point of the illustration is typically, “You should be humble, like me!” which is not a very humble statement.

I like the way Willimon puts it when he pictures a pastor motivating his congregation toward humility, “OK, gang, let’s get out there and really be humble this week. Let’s see if we can out-humble the Baptists” (Willimon 44f). Darn it! We can’t even be proud of our humility.

So here is what I do. I don’t want to park too close and be thought of as seeing myself as more important than I ought. Nor do I want to take the farthest spot and have to battle that demon of pride in my humility. So, typically I park somewhere in the middle of the lot. Not too close, and not too far away. I know. I probably should see a therapist about this one.

But it can make you crazy. I want to be humble, but not so humble I’m proud of it. Man, these seven deadly sins are tricky! I ran across just how tricky again this week in a blog by Jon Acuff.

Sinners in need of grace

Acuff is a Christian humorist/satirist. He writes a blog called Stuff Christians Like where he talks about things like “The 10 Commandments of Chick-fil-A,” “How to Tell If You’re Dating a Preacher,” and one of his most popular posts “The Jesus Side-Hug.” But on Wednesdays he takes a break from the humor and writes “Serious Wednesday” posts. This Wednesday he wrote about signature sins (http://www.jonacuff.com/stuffchristianslike/2012/04/signature-sins/).

“A signature sin,” he writes, “is something big and bold and neon in your life. The moment you look at it, you know, ‘Oh yeah, that thing? That’s a sin.’ And so you focus on it. You work on it. You get serious about it.” I know exactly what he means, and I’m guessing you do to. You too probably have that sin in your life that you don’t talk about, don’t joke about, don’t even want to look at. It is your “front line” of sin.

When you are struggling with it, you feel really badly. You know you have sinned. You know you are far from God. You know you need to confess. You are aware of your need for grace.

“The flipside is that, when I’m not committing those signature sins,” Acuff continues, “I feel holy. I feel connected to God, as if he is happy with me those days. As if, on those days, I am perfect.”

Have you been there? I have. I can feel as though I have “earned” God’s love and favor. When I’m in that place, I pray differently. I pray proudly. I thank God for my strength, perseverance, or whatever other virtue I decide to assign myself that day.

My prayer is not quite as self-centered as the Pharisee in Jesus’ parable who prays, “‘God, I thank you that I am not like other people: thieves, rogues, adulterers, or even like this tax collector. I fast twice a week; I give a tenth of all my income,” (Luke 18:11-12) but I’m in the same zipcode. When I am winning the battle against my signature sin I can feel pretty good, pretty righteous.

Acuff sums it up well:

Your self-righteousness is every bit as disgusting and damaging as your signature sin. It might even be worse, because at the heart of self-righteousness is the belief that you don’t need God…

The reality is:

On my worst days, when I’ve broken every signature sin, I am in desperate need of God’s grace.

On my best days, when I’ve avoided every signature sin, I am in desperate need of God’s grace.

I think it all boils down to one question: Who do you think you are?

Do you believe you have conquered, or can conquer, any obstacle thrown at you? Are you captaining the unsinkable ship into dangerous waters, full speed ahead?

Do you believe you pulled yourself up by your bootstraps without any help from anyone, even God? Do you believe you are somehow better than your neighbor because you have more money, were born into a country of advantage, have the right skin color, sexual orientation, or pedigree? Do you believe you are somehow closer to God because you are smarter, better looking, or more athletic than most others? Do you think you are, as some say, “all that and a bag of chips?”

Or are you aware of just how empty you really are? Do you know you are a sinner in desperate need of God’s grace?

How every breath is a gift from God himself? How your intellect, money, advantage were given to you by Him, not for your own benefit, but with the calling to use them for the sake of others? Can you look to the one who is struggling and recognize yourself in them? And more importantly see Christ in them?

That’s the irony of this passage. We are told to have the mind of Christ who emptied himself. You and I don’t need to be emptied. Rather we simply need to be mindful of our emptiness. All we have that means anything is a gift from God. Jesus was divine and had everything to be proud of but put it aside for us. We are weak and sinful. We have little, if anything, of which to be eternally proud. Yet we cling to a figment of our imagination with pride.

How do you see yourself? May we come to understand just how empty we are: sinners in need of one another and in desperate need for God’s grace.

Bibliography

Acuff, Jon. Stuff Christians Like. http://www.jonacuff.com/stuffchristianslike/

Kaylor, Bob. “A Titanic Lie” draft for Homiletics.

Willimon, William H. Sinning Like a Christian: A New Look at the Seven Deadly Sins. Nashville: Abingdon, 2005. Kindle edition.

Unless otherwise noted, all quotations of Scripture are from the New Revised Standard Version available online at http://bible.oremus.org.

The Kingdom is not only beyond or efforts: it is beyond our vision. We accomplish in our lifetime only a tiny fraction of the magnificent enterprise that is the Lord’s work. Nothing we do is complete, which is another way of saying that the Kingdom always lies beyond us. No sermon says all that should be said. No prayer fully expresses our faith. No confession brings perfection. No pastoral visit brings wholeness. No program accomplishes the Church’s mission. No set of goals and objectives includes everything. That is what we are about. We plant the seeds that one day will grow. We water seeds already planted knowing they hold future promise. We lay foundations that will need further development. We provide yeast that affects far beyond our capabilities. We cannot do everything and there is a sense of liberation in realizing that. This enables us to do something, and to do it very, very well. It may be incomplete, but it is a beginning, a step along the way, an opportunity for the Lord’s grace to enter and do the rest. We may never see the end results, but that is the difference between the Master Builder and the worker. We are workers, not master builders; ministers, no messiahs. We are prophets of a future that is no our own.

Oscar Romero
as quoted in Common Prayer: A liturgy for ordinary radicals
by Shane Claiborne, Jonathan Wilson-Hartgrove, & Enuma Okoro
(Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan) 2010
reading for March 24, p. 194

There is a joke I heard years ago about an elementary school teacher who was teaching a unit on religions. For show and tell day she asked her students to bring in a religious artifact that symbolized their family’s faith. The appointed day for the presentations came and the students were excited to share. One of the girls volunteered to go first. She came to the front of the class and proudly announced, “I’m a Roman Catholic and this is a Rosary. We uses these to help us when we say our prayers.”

“Very good,” said the teacher. Then she asked who would like to go next. A little boy was next and he had a small candelabra with him. “My family is Jewish,” he said, “and this is a Menorah. We light one candle each night during Hanukkah to remind us that God gives us what we need.”

“That is very nice,” said the teacher. Then she asked who would like to go next. A little came to the front of the class and enthusiastically announced, “My family is Methodist and this is a casserole dish!”

Now, if you have not been in the United Methodist Church for long, you may not get this joke. We Methodist are known primarily for two things: (1) singing and (2) eating. The potluck supper, like we will be having on Saturday before the Confession of St. Patrick one-man show, is a staple in many United Methodist Congregations.

We should not be ashamed of that. Eating together is an important part of the church’s life, and it always has been. In fact, it may be one of the most important things we can do together.

Tables in the Gospels

You may remember several weeks ago, I preached a sermon where I used this picture of the banquet table in the Dry Run Creek Sewer as the very first slide. In telling you how much I liked the picture I said that I had written a series of sermons on the tables in the Bible and if I ever had an opportunity to publish that series, this was the picture I wanted for the cover of the book. I think it is a Kingdom of God image. A banquet table in such an earthy place.

When Pastor Bob told me earlier this week that he might not be able to preach today, my first thought was, “Oh he’ll be fine. I don’t really need to worry about preaching.” But just in case I began to think about old sermons that I might adapt if he couldn’t go today. Because we are celebrating the Sacrament of Holy Communion every Sunday during Lent, I began to reflect back on that sermon series on the tables in the Bible. Well, “just in case” happened.

My interest in the tables in the Bible stems from a sermon series I did back in 2007. We were launching a new worship service on Sunday nights that we called “The Body.” I wanted to do something different with that service, but I didn’t just wanted it to be “flashy” and “cool.” I wanted it to have some depth. So I started that worship service with a 6-week sermon series on the first church as described in the book of Acts. That sounds impressive doesn’t it? But actually the majority of the series was on 6 verses, Acts 2:42-47, where the activities of the very first church are described. Those verses talk about how they devoted themselves to teaching, fellowship, breaking of bread (communion), prayer, holding all things in common, going to temple, and things like that. Then in verse 46 we read this, “Day by day, as they spent much time together in the temple, they broke bread at home and ate their food with glad and generous hearts.” When discussing the activities of the very first church, Luke the author of Acts, makes sure to include the fact that they ate together with “glad and generous hearts.”

I remember thinking, “that’s an odd detail to include.” Of course they ate. Everyone needs to eat to survive. So why include that in this description of the early church? Seems like extraneous information. But then, as I reflected on Jesus‘ ministry, I realized they got this idea from him. Have you ever noticed how often Jesus eats and talks about eating in the Gospels?

Jesus and Tables

According to John, Jesus’ first miracle is changing water into wine at a wedding banquet. That’s a table. His ministry closes by sharing the Passover Seder meal with his disciples. Another table. Between those two events,

• Jesus taught that the Kingdom of God is like a banquet.
• He attended dinners with Pharisees and other religious leaders.
• He told stories that ended with people celebrating by “killing the fatted calf” – world-class barbecue table.
• He fed 5,000 people in a field – a world-class picnic.
• He invited himself over to Zacchaeus’ house where he “ate with sinners and tax collectors.”
• He went to the home of his friends Mary and Martha where there is some squabbling over responsibility for preparing a meal.
• His disciples get in trouble for picking food on the Sabbath.
• His critics accused Jesus of being a glutton.
• Even after his resurrection, the disciples tell a story about Jesus cooking them fish for breakfast on the beach, and how two people recognized Jesus when he began to share a meal with them.

And this isn’t only a Jesus thing. Moses and the Israelites talked quite a bit about food in the desert. Elijah was provided for by a widow who barely had enough flour for her and her son. Abraham finds out that he is going to have Isaac after he invites three travelers to have dinner with him.

So maybe the casserole dish is not such a bad symbol of our faith after all. There is something about a meal together that matters to God.

This morning’s scripture lesson is the beginning of Luke’s telling of the Last Supper, Jesus’ final meal with his disciples before going to the cross. He tells us that when Jesus had gathered all the disciples together, he started the meal with these words, “I have eagerly desired to eat this Passover with you” (Luke 22:15). While that says it well, I love the way Eugene Peterson renders it in The Message Bible: “You’ve no idea how much I have looked forward to eating this Passover meal with you.”

If you want to know how to open a dinner party, follow the example of Jesus. Imagine telling your dinner guests, “You have no idea how much I have looked forward to this dinner with you.” Maybe you have said this on a Friday night, at the end of a busy week when you have friends gathered around your table. Or maybe you have said something similar to your family after a business trip, or just a crazy Tuesday, “You have no idea how good it is to sit down with you.” Or maybe you have felt that at a wedding – how good it is to celebrate this couple’s love. Imagine how welcome would you feel at someone’s table who started the meal with those words. Because, face it, there are some tables at which we fill incredibly welcomed, and there are others where that is not exactly the case.

Welcome at the table?

When I was a kid our family had two weekly rituals. We spent every Friday night at my grandparents from my mom’s side, and every Sunday afternoon with the grandparents from my Dad’s side. One thing they had in common was that the majority of the time visiting was spent around their tables.

I’ve told you before about the Sunday’s with the Italian Iovino side of the family. Dinner started early, and often went long into the evening. It usually started with antipasto, which literally in Italian means, “before the meal” or the appetizers. Then would come out the best Italian food I’ve probably ever eaten. Lasagna, homemade ravioli, braciole, and whole host of others. Later there was wine. Then dessert and espresso. The evening usually ended with a game of cards – pinocle or poker. All of this happened at the dining room table. My dad sat there for what seemed to a 7-year-old to be FOREVER.

Now, I only know about most of that as a spectator. You see, after dinner, we kids were dismissed from the table. We would be called up to grab our dessert, but then we were to go back out into “the other room,” where we watched television and stayed out of the way. It was clear that the children were not really welcome at that dining room table.

On Friday nights, at the home of my maternal grandparents, things were very different. I remember feeling like a big shot because I got to sit at that table all night. All we had there was coffee and dessert, but man was that fun. When they played cards, or any other game, we played too – even pinocle. When there was a conversation, we were included. I think I learned most of what I know about cars listening to my dad talk to my my grandpa who was the local mechanic. When they ate, we ate. I’m pretty sure the first time I ever tasted coffee (I am convinced that my grandmother ALWAYS had coffee on) was during one of those Friday nights.

Where do you think my brother and I liked to be more, and where do you think we needed to be dragged to go? We wanted go to the table where we were welcomed, and fought to go to the table where we weren’t.

There is a level of intimacy that happens around a table that truly brings us together. Sociologists tell us that this is why we “do lunch” to get things done. There is a bonding that happens over a meal. They also say that is why first date dinners are so popular, why family dinner times are so important, and why we invite people over for pie when we want to get to know them better. Maybe that is why we include Banana Bread in our welcome bags to people who visit our congregation. There is something about food that brings us together.

Welcoming the outsider

Jesus knew this very well. Often in the gospels we read about Jesus getting into trouble for eating with people that he shouldn’t. The “religious leaders” used to poke at him, asking his disciples things like, “Why does he eat with tax collectors and sinners?” (Mark 2:16, et al.).

This was a big deal in Jesus’ day because of the social mores of the time. One scholar puts it this way:

sharing a meal with somebody – had a significance in Jesus’ social world that is difficult for us to imagine. It was not a casual act, as it can be in the modern world. In a general way, sharing a meal represented mutual acceptance. Pharisees (and others) would not eat with somebody who was impure, and no decent person would share a meal with an outcast. The meal was a microcosm of the social system (Borg 55).

Another scholar puts it this way:

When you ate with someone in that culture, you indicated your acceptance of that person, and your desire for an intimate friendship. This was especially true if the meal took place in a private home. (Roberts).

When Jesus invites himself to Zacchaeus’ home for a meal. That is a big deal. When he eats with Matthew and his fellow “tax collectors and sinners,” Jesus is accepting them. When a woman with a questionable reputation comes in to where Jesus is eating and begins to wash his feet with her tears and dry them with her hair, that is huge in the society of the day. So you can understand why the religious leaders are troubled by the people with whom Jesus chooses to dine. He wasn’t just eating with them, he was accepting them as they were.

Then when the time comes, Jesus sits down with his disciples for the last supper, and he opens with those words, “You’ve no idea how much I have looked forward to eating this Passover meal with you” imagine what it must have meant to the disciples. They admired him. They thought he was going to be king – remember how Pastor Bob said several weeks ago that Peter’s confession that Jesus was the Messiah was like saying, “We think you could be president.” Here he was, this very special person of God, whom they had seen do miraculous things, welcoming THEM to his table. He was accepting them for who they were. He was telling them how much he wanted to be with them when he welcomed them to his table.

Like going to my grandparents on a Friday night, and knowing I was welcome at the table, I knew I mattered.

The disciples must have been moved. This was “inner circle” time, private time with Jesus, intimacy with their teacher, a special moment. Jesus in those few words, is inviting them in, reaching out to build deep, intimate relationships with them. They are welcome at his table. They are important members of his family. He is inviting them into intimate friendship. He is telling them that he accepts them as they are as he accepts them at his table.

Jesus accepts the disciples, the tax collectors and sinners, those we think deserve it, and those we are pretty sure don’t – he accepts all of those at this table. So too he accepts all of us as he invites us to come to this table today.

I love that line Pastor Bob uses when he explains that in the United Methodist Church we celebrate an open communion – meaning that the only requirements are that you love Jesus, repent of your sin, and seek to live in peace with others. He says something like, “this is Jesus’ table, so we don’t set the guest list. He does.” And apparently Jesus is not so discerning about social or religious status before he welcomes us to his table. He invites us all.

Like the host inviting people to come to his banquet in Jesus’ parable told in Luke 14, Jesus says, “compel people to come in, so that my house may be filled” (Luke 14:23). There is room at Jesus’ table for us all.

My cup runneth over

One more image:

There is this odd phrase in the 23^rd Psalm that many of us know so well, that we don’t even notice anymore. In the King James Version, which is the one we know best, we read, “Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over” (Psalm 23:5). There is another table, this time in the Old Testament. This table has been prepared for us. But then we get this line, “my cup runneth over,” or as the NRSV puts it, “my cup overflows.”

I know that doesn’t sound weird anymore, we’ve heard it so much, but that is weird. If you went to dinner with a friend and the waiter came by and filled your cup until it overflowed, that wouldn’t be a blessing that would be a mistake. Again, some sociological context will help.

Max Lucado in his book Traveling Light, writes this:

The overflowing cup was a powerful symbol in the days of David (traditionally understood as the author of the Psalms). Hosts in the ancient East used it to send a message to the guest. As long as the cup was kept full, the guest knew he was welcome. But when the cup sat empty, the host was hinting that the hour was late. On those occasions, however, when the host really enjoyed the company of the person, he filled the cup to overflowing. He didn’t stop when the wine reached the rim; he kept pouring until the liquid ran over the edge of the cup and down on the table (Lucado, 137).

When Jesus welcomes his disciples to the last supper by saying, “You’ve no idea how much I have looked forward to eating this Passover meal with you,” he is telling them that the cup is full to overflowing. They are welcome to stay. The company exceptionally pleases the host.

And so he is saying the same thing to you and me.

I don’t know where you are today. Maybe you have come here wondering if you belong. Maybe you have come for the kids’ sake. Or maybe you came today because your spouse strongly encourages you to be here. Or maybe you came out of desperation, searching for something. Or maybe you came, and you have no idea why. The invitation of Jesus is for you. He is filling your cup to overflowing. He is welcoming you to his table. He is accepting you where you are right now, and inviting you into a deeper relationship with him. Jesus wants to be here with you.

When you come to receive that piece of bread and dip it in the juice this morning, may you come with those words of Jesus ringing in your ears, “You’ve no idea how much I have looked forward to eating this Passover meal with you.” Truly you and I have no idea just how much Jesus longs to be in deep relationship with each one of us!

And there is no better way to make that invitation than to invite us to eat a special meal with him. With or without the casserole dish.

Bibliography

Borg, Marcus J. Meeting Jesus Again for the First Time: The Historical Jesus and the Heart of Contemporary Faith. San Francisco: HarperSanFrancisco, 1995.

Lucado, Max. Traveling Light: Releasing the Burdens You Were Never Intended to Bear. Nashville: W Group., 2001.

Roberts, Mark D. Feasting Together, “1. Eating Together Augments Intimacy” sermon © 2004 by Mark D. Roberts at http://www.markdroberts.com/htmfiles/sermons/10.10.04.htm.

Unless otherwise noted, all quotations of Scripture are from the New Revised Standard Version available online at http://bible.oremus.org.

Most intriguing to me is Walton’s conclusion that Genesis 1 is the account of God creating a temple in which he will dwell. Through some great extra-biblical examples and passages from the Hebrew scripture, Walton makes a convincing argument that the statement that on the seventh day God rested, is a statement of God taking his place in the temple of the cosmos he as completed. This idea of God dwelling among us, rather than watching us from a remote heaven, is an important and often missing piece of one’s theological understanding of our lives.

This argument of God’s creative work including giving purpose (rather than limiting God’s creation to shape and form) allows for God to remain the eternal creator. In other words, it is not as though after Day 6 of Genesis 1, God hung up his work boots, never to create again. Rather, as God gives each of us purpose, not just an eternal purpose, but a purpose for today, God is continuing his creative work.

I would have liked the book to turn toward a discussion of how this understanding of creation informs the rest of the Old Testament, the ministry of Jesus, the authors of the New Testament, our eschatologies, and the church. I am still processing these areas on my own. If you are interested there, you might want to turn to N. T. Wright’s Simply Jesus. But this was not the purpose of this book.

Instead, the final section of the book is a discussion of the evolution/creation/darwinism/intelligent design debate. I have recognized for some time that this debate is asking Genesis 1 to do something the author never intended, so I found this section a bit tedious. For those mired in the debate though, Walton offers some great insight. He argues that science deals solely in the material which Genesis 1 does not address, and Genesis 1 deals only with function/purpose which is outside the realm of science. Thus the conflict need not continue.

I recommend this book to all who have questioned what Genesis 1 is about, and those who feel that acceptance of science is somehow a denial of Genesis 1, and by extension the whole canon of scripture.

Amos, a prophet, is speaking a word from God to the people of Israel in that passage. The people were very concerned with correct worship and relatively unconcerned with the needs of the people around them. Because of that, God calls their songs noise and, in an earlier verse, says that he despises their festivals, doesn’t get excited about their worship gatherings, and doesn’t accept their offerings (Amos 5:21-22). That’s pretty strong language. I wonder how God feels about our worship today.

Don’t get me wrong. I don’t think this was some kind of prophetic voice I heard while shoveling snow. I’m not one who condemns contemporary worship music. I am a worship leader, for goodness sake, who has been moved by that type of music and uses it to bring others to an experience with God. But I sometimes worry we’re sending the message that singing the right songs is all that we need, as if we can live out our entire life of faith one hour on Sunday each week.

I’m concerned that we have raised up a generation of worshipers and not a generation of servants. There are many who tend to be very comfortable singing songs about God, and less comfortable working for justice and righteousness, serving our community, feeding the hungry, clothing the naked, and walking alongside the broken. We need a healthy balance of worship and service, right thought and right action, singing and doing.

In the meantime, I switched Pandora to my Bruce Springsteen channel and kept shoveling.

In his book Simply Jesus: A New Vision of Who He Was, What He Did, and Why He Matters, theologian N. T. Wright contrasts two types of eschatology prevalent at the time of Jesus. He writes:

whereas the Romans had what we might call a retrospective eschatology, in which people looked back from a “golden age” that had already arrived and saw the whole story of how they arrived at that point, the Jews cherished and celebrated a prospective eschatology, looking forward from within a decidedly ungolden age and longing and praying fervently for the freedom, justice, and peace that, they were convinced were theirs by right. God would do it! It was going to happen at last! (Wright 32).

In other words, the Romans thought their story had already reached its climax and were looking back to their golden age.

I liken it to Homer Simpson’s evaluation of music: “Everyone knows rock n’ roll attained perfection in 1974; It’s a scientific fact.” Homer is a huge fan of Grand Funk Railroad. From that point forward, music has gone downhill to him. He longs to go back to 1974.

The Jewish people were instead looking forward to a climactic moment still to come. Their history was an indicator of God’s provision and ability to free people from bondage and slavery. From a place of oppression in Jesus’ day, they looked forward to a day to come when God would do that to the full.

Which leads to the question: Are we looking forward or back? I would guess many have a retrospective eschatology. That may explain our annual struggles over public nativity displays and the like. Those fights may say less about our desire to worship freely, and more about how we long to return to a simpler time.

I believe Christians are called to have a forward-looking faith. We ought to be praying for the coming of the Kingdom of God, and working as the Kingdom’s agents in the present. Not looking back to what used to be, but working for what is to come.