A boldness for Christ . . .

     Heading into Lent, I had every intention of preaching on Psalm 23 on Lent 4.  My desire was two-fold.  On the one hand, it seems the only time I get to preach on Psalm 23 is at funerals.  It is, as you all know, a popular psalm for those in mourning, because of the comfort of which it reminds us.  I wanted to preach on it, though, as the target of all those spiritual disciplines we have been discussing this season.  As some have noticed, the disciplines are all about forging a closer relationship with God.  We meditate to hear better His voice.  We fast to subdue better the flesh.  We practice solitude to feel His presence.  In short, we practice all those disciplines so that we will come to understand the truth of Psalm 23, that the Lord only wants good things for us and for us to dwell in His House forever.  Psalm 23, in many ways, expresses the ideal understanding of our relationship to God.

     Unfortunately for me, I was drawn elsewhere this week.  In particular, as we have been considering the stories of Nicodemus, of the Samaritan woman at the well, and now of the man born blind, I have been in mind of boldness.  Over the past year or so, we have been looking a bit more specifically at the qualities and process of discipleship.  Part of our focus on disciplines has been to teach us how to be better disciples.  Sometimes, though, we have had to look at our lives--our behaviors, our assumptions, and our actions--to help us discern whether we are maturing as disciples.  In our spiritual discernment, some have noticed that they “really aren’t cut out for” this ministry or that ministry.  One of the peculiar ideas of the Holy Spirit is that no one has to be cut out for a particular ministry to do it well.  All God asks of us is that we be willing to step out in faith.  He puts the words in our mouths; He causes the seeds around us to germinate.  What do I mean?

     Our story today begins with the disciples observing a man born blind.  As with us, the Jews were very familiar with the Ten Commandments.  Exodus 20:5 had reminded people for generations that God cursed those who worship idols to the third and fourth generation.  It was a terrible thing to be born with a birth defect in the ANE.  But to have your birth defect attributed to the sins of a parent or grandparent, can you imagine?  Like many in the Church today when discussing Ephesians 5:22-23 and women obeying their husbands--reminding husbands to love their wives as Christ loved the Church--, the Pharisees and Sadducees had a hard times getting to Exodus 20:6--where God promises to bless the faithful to a thousand generations--, to say nothing of the book of Job.  The disciples have been taught all their lives that deformities reflect the sins either of the one deformed, or in the case of infants, sins of the parents or grandparents.  So they ask the Lord, was it the man’s sins or his parents’ which caused him to be born blind.

     Jesus tells them that the man was born blind so that the glory of God might be revealed in him.  Then Jesus makes the mud with His spit, coats the man’s eyes, and tells him to go and wash in the pool of Siloam.  The blind man is healed!

     Notice the blindness that exists in the rest of the pericope.  The people near where the man used to beg are not sure it is him, even though he keeps telling them he is the man.  The Pharisees doubt the account, even though some people and the man testify that it was him.  His parents confess that he was born blind, but they are unwilling to say how--that’s understandable given that they were probably encouraged to confess the sin that had caused the son to be born blind.  Only the healed man really sees.  And he is consistent in his testimony.  Jesus put mud on his eyes, told him to wash, and now he sees.

     As the grilling continues, however, notice how the man’s testimony changes, keeping in mind that he had been reduced to begging and that his deformity was proof of his (or his parents’) grave sins against God.  When the Pharisees point out that Jesus is a sinner for healing on the Sabbath, the healed man points out the character of God.  We know that God does not listen to sinners (I bet he has heard that line more than once in his life), but He does listen to one who worships Him and obeys His will. . . If this man were not from God, He could do nothing.  Yet the man stands before them able to see and healed!  For his true testimony, and in response to the glory of God, the man is ridiculed by the Pharisees for having been born entirely in sin and tossed out of the Temple.

     We talk often about Jesus calling us to abundant life.  There is no “that’s good enough” in God’s economy.  He promises us a Wedding Feast.  He changes water into the best wine.  He instructs us that the Holy Spirit will empower us to do even more amazing works than He does.  This is another of those stories which remind us that we are not called to settle for good enough.  Had Jesus healed the man’s blindness and gone from there, the man no doubt would have been grateful.  After all, he will be the man who was cured of his blindness from this time forward.  But, even with his sight restored, the man’s position still is not changed.  The Pharisees mock him for daring to remind them about the character of God and cast him out.  As before, he is still alone.

     Until he is approached once again by Jesus, that is.  Jesus hears that the man has been cast out and goes in search of him.  He asks the man if He believes in the Son of Man.  The man is willing to believe in the Son, but he admits he has no idea who the Son is.  Jesus says that He is the Son of Man.  The man confesses simply that he believes, and he kneels down and worships Jesus.  In all the Gospel of John, the man born blind is the only one said to do this!

     In Lent, we are called to self-examination to discern our sins and to consider our need for a Savior.  One of the results of a successful Lent, a good discipleship, ought to be a boldness about our faith.  Over the last three weeks, we have read the Gospel account of Nicodemus, of the Samaritan Woman at the Well, and of the man born blind.  Each encounters Jesus.  Though each has a different background story, though each is a unique individual, what happens as a result of the encounter with the messiah?

     Nicodemus is part of the “in crowd.”  He is a member of the Sanhedrin.  He has a certain reputation to protect.  Ironically, of the three, his coming to faith is the slowest, perhaps because he mistakenly believes he has much to lose.  Nicodemus approaches Jesus at night, so as not to be seen by his associates.  His conversion is slow.  Yes, in a few chapters, he will sort of defend Jesus in front of the other Jewish leaders.  But even then, he holds back.  By the time of Jesus’ death, of course, Nicodemus is convinced that Jesus is the messiah, and he purchases the spices for Jesus body--an overt and loving act that cannot be hidden.  

      The Samaritan woman has had five husbands and now lives with a six man who is not her husband.  We know she is the focal point of gossip because she comes to the well during the heat of the sun.  Had we buried five husbands or five wives, we can well-imagine the attendant gossip.  Her response to Jesus?  She heads back into the city and asks everyone to come see the prophet who has told her everything she has done.  He cannot be Messiah, can He?  Her invitation is, of course, accepted.  But by the end of the passage, we are told, those in the city no longer believe because she says.  They believe because they have seen with their own eyes and heard with their own ears that Jesus is the Savior of the world.

     Today we read of the man born blind.  In a few short verses after his encounter with the Son of Man, the man goes from being an outcast and a beggar to a proclaimer and teacher.  The man shows a strength and boldness which even his parents cannot begin to show in gratitude to God for their son’s healing, and he begins to instruct those who would have taught others to shun him because of his blindness.

     Three unique encounters share a common characteristic of boldness.  Each of those three are forever transformed by their encounter with Jesus.  Nicodemus eventually finds his way out of the “in group” to proclaim Jesus as Savior.  The Samaritan woman finds the courage to reach out to those who gossip about her and share her experience of Jesus.  She becomes, for all intents and purposes, the third most successful evangelist in the New Testament!  And the man in today’s Gospel finds the courage to teach the teachers.  Each of those who have encountered Jesus are forever emboldened by the encounter and the healing they have experienced.  Each realizes, at the deepest level of their being, that Jesus is sufficient for all their needs and that He wants nothing more than to heal them completely.  Jesus does not settle for good enough; nor should His disciples ever either!

     Brothers and sisters, do you share that characteristic boldness for God about which we have read these last three weeks?  Are you willing to speak the truth to those in power like Nicodemus, the Samaritan woman, or the man born blind?  How do you respond when you find yourself, or see another, on the outs?  Brothers and sisters, if we have never found ourselves at odds with the powerful of this world or discontented by the way things are, perhaps we are discipling ourselves in accordance with a God of our own fashioning, rather than the Lord revealed to us in Scripture.  Faith, true faith, produces a boldness in the character of those who believe in Him.  The assurances of Psalm 23 are so inwardly intertwined in our thoughts and in our feelings and in what we believe that our actions become visible signs of our worship and of our confidence in our Savior’s ability to redeem all things in our lives!

     How is boldness expressed in our lives today?  Truthfully, I think we Christians in the West have forgotten that we need boldness.  An argument can be made, I think, that we have grown too comfortable with the powers of the establishment.  While our brothers and sisters in other lands are put to death for their faith or forced to live in dumps or forced to live on the margins, we in the West complain about corporate religious rights and being mocked.  Our healthcare system is broken.  What can we do?  Our economy is broken.  What can we do?  Millions of people are not being paid a living wage.  What can we do?  Children in our community, and others around the country, are living in abandoned houses, having been  abandoned by their parents, trying simply to finish the school year.  What can we do?  People are enslaving others.  What can we do?  Autism is on the rise.  What can we do?  War has broken out in several areas in the world.  What can we do?  The numbers of hungry continue to grow.  What can we do?  The numbers of those abused continues to grow.  What can we do?  The use of heroin is on the rise.  What can we do?  Bullying is still bad.  What can we do?  This list could go on and on.  Chances are, you have thought of more as I listed just a few.  The question I have for you this day, though, is what are you doing about that seemingly insurmountable problem?  Are you clucking your tongue wishing someone would do something?  Or are you finding yourselves at odds with the powers that be and those in your life because you think God has called you to show forth His amazing grace in the world around you?

     Nicodemus, the Samaritan lady, and the man born blind did not set out to change those around them.  Chances are, Nicodemus liked things the way they were; the other two likely felt helpless to change their lot.  Yet all three encountered the messiah and emerged radically transformed.  Each was called by God to specific tasks, tasks of speaking the Kingdom-reality into the worldly-illusion.  Was it costly?  You bet.  But what it costs them, and what it costs us, pales when compared to what it cost Him.

     What if you find yourself provoked this morning by the Holy Spirit that you have not been bold in your life?  Are you doomed?  Absolutely not.  Nicodemus testifies to that truth.  All our Lord requires is that we repent of our ways and return to His.  He has already paid the cost of our failures in full.  He simply asks us to him use us to His honor and glory.  All three stories are stories of amazing grace, just as the story of each one of us is as well.  All He asks is that we share the story of how He redeemed us.  The growth and harvest in the Kingdom?  That’s up to Him!

Peace,

Brian†

A different story . . . the same result!

     I understand that the lessons from the Gospel of John have other important subjects included in their passages.  I get that.  Last week’s passage looks at regeneration by the Holy Spirit, the upcoming manner of death of our Lord, and a number of other subjects which are rightly considered by members of the Church.  And, believe it or not, I am very happy to have those kinds of conversations with you about the readings.  Little will excite me more in this work that somebody coming in wanting to talk in depth about the readings.  It means that you are reading the lessons in the RCL, and you are struggling with them.  And just because I preach on another subject or lesson does not mean that the subject which has caught your eye is unimportant to me.  Part of my job is to try and discern where the readings or their subject are needed to be heard in our collective life.  I may know that this person needs to hear this and that person needs to hear that, but good sermons, I think, try to feed the congregation present.  Good sermons, I think, try to let God speak to the group, cognizant that He may speak to individuals, about those afflictions that need to be comforted or those comforts that need to be afflicted.  A good sermon, I think, will cause individuals to struggle a bit with God.  Your questions simply mean that God has stirred something within you, and that, my friends, is where the real fun of pastoral ministry is found!  That is where we as pastors get to see God at work transforming the lives of those whom He has given into our care!

     I give that warning because I understand my sermon this week will skip a number of subjects being discussed in other pulpits today.  I do understand that.  And I want you each to feel comfortable enough that you can come talk to me about where the lessons were touching on your life this week with no worries of “I must have read it wrong” or “Brian does not want to talk about that.”  Every conversation I had about the Nicodemus passage began with an apology of sorts.  I don’t want that, and I am certain God does not either.  And, let’s face it, a book could be written on this Gospel passage alone.  Preaching exhaustively in this pericope could take hours.  Most of us want to enjoy some of the tourney today!

     Our Old Testament reading today is from the book of Exodus.  Most of us are familiar with the story.  The people are mad that there is no water.  Moses whines to God.  God tells Moses to strike the rock, and He will cause water to gush forth for Israel.  Moses calls the site where this all occurs Massah and Meribah, because the people quarreled and tested the Lord.  How little has changed!

     A few weeks ago, I was approached by “Luke.”  I was returning from somewhere, maybe a hospital, and was passing through the Parish Hall to go to my office.  “Luke” grabbed me and loudly proclaimed “Father Brian, I have been searching for a wise priest for many years.  I am kind of like an old fella named Diogenes.  Anyway, I tell clergy that if they can answer my questions correctly, I will attend their church.  Would you like to try and answer my questions?”  Now, those of you who attend church when one of the AA groups is meeting understands the cacophony of noise in the Parish Hall.  Luke said this loud enough that I was immediately put in mind of the Pharisees and priests who like to make a good show of righteousness in front of others.  This was grandstanding.  So I stopped.  I asked him to repeat himself, which he did.  What was great was that all the other conversations drew to a close so that they could listen.  So I asked Luke if he was seriously wrestling with God or just grandstanding.  Luke asked what I meant.  So I explained.  After my explanation he claimed he was really looking for a good priest, one really steeped in God’s Word.  He said he just had not found one yet.  So I asked him again if he was sure about making this oath, that if I answered his three questions he would starting coming to church.  “Absolutely, Father.  Just don’t be too disappointed if I trip you up.  Ever since I joined AA and started seeking God as my high power, no priest has ever answered my question.  That’s why I said I was like that guy Diogenes.”

     Inwardly, of course, I chuckled.  I knew how this was going to end.  The calm had already descended on the room.  I had stopped in my tracks.  I was not sure what the questions would be or my answers, but I knew this meeting had been ordained.  It had been years since someone mention the “fellow” Diogenes in conversations with me.  So I reminded him about oaths to God.  “Are you sure?  Because if I take your challenge and answer your questions correctly, you have to come to church.  You are making a vow to God.  You are challenging him.  And if He meets your conditions, what happens if you fail to live up to your end of the covenant?”  Luke said he was not sure, and before I could answer, the room grumbled an assortment of “oh, you do NOT want to be an oath breaker with God!” answers.

     That was the first time I saw Luke act nervously.  He looked around the room as some forty people were answering his question.  He knew them all.  He has walked a path of sobriety with him.  And they were all shaking their heads and muttering all kinds of fun things about breaking covenants with God.  After a minute or two, things died down.  He replied that he was very serious.  He really wanted to be discipled, but he did not want to be discipled by a false teacher.  So I told him to ask away.

     Before he did, he said he had a condition.  I was curious and asked what it was.  He said that when I failed to answer his questions correctly, I was no longer allowed to pester him about coming to church.  I would have had my big chance and missed, as far as he was concerned.  He got tired of me and other clergy always asking him to come to church.  I teased him that if I missed, I would try hard not to care about his eternal fate and not invite him to church.  The room laughed for a second and waited.

     I won’t share the rest of the conversation here, but I almost laughed aloud at the first question.  Did Jesus have any brothers or sisters?  The second question was predictable, How do you reconcile the fact that the Pope is a man like you and still infallible?  The last question centered around his understanding from Scripture that clergy can marry, yet the church forbids it.  I had almost a moment of sympathy for Luke.  Poor guy has thought all this time I am a Roman Catholic priest.  He doesn’t even know what church he comes to for AA.  But I answered his questions directly.  The expression on his face was priceless.  He has obviously made lots of Roman clergy squirm, but this was a bp fastball down the middle of the plate, to use a baseball expression.  So I answered and then asked, will you be coming for the traditional Eucharist at 8am this Sunday or are you a music lover and better suited to 10:15am?  The crowd roared with laughter.  Luke was stunned.  The crowd was laughing for the same reason you likely are.  He thought I was a Roman priest.  There were a number of jokes at his expense.

     I tell the story with a wrong name because it has been a month and “Luke” still has not made it to church among us.  He keeps threatening to come, so I don’t want you to know his real name.  I also tell the story because he is still quarreling with God.  You know, I never once saw Luke outside the church until after that conversation.  After our third “run-in,” he even remarked that he was beginning to wonder if our intersections with each other was God’s way of reminding him of his oath.  His real problem is that he thought I was a Roman priest and was not.  God had steered him to a clergy who shared his understanding on a couple of issues.  “It’s not fair,” he once remarked, “God cheated.  I thought all that time St. Alban’s was a Catholic church and you were a Catholic priest.”  I reminded him that God often answers our prayers in ways in which we disagree with Him.  But I also remind him of his oath.  “One day,” I warned, “God’s patience may run out.  Now, he may dislocate your hip like Jacob or get bit by a snake like Israel or some other punishments in your quarreling.  But one day, His seeking you will be over.  Don’t be stupid and risk that.  The stakes are too high.”  Many of you have heard those words from my mouth.  A few of you have even thrown them back into my teeth, when the occasion warranted it.

     How can I be sure God is seeking Luke?  How can I be sure He is seeking all those among us who do not yet know Him and His love for them?  How can I be sure that He sought the real you, the one that you try to keep hidden from everyone?  John stories from last week and this do a good job of reminding us that God seeks all.  Better still, the results of their conversions speak to the esteem in which He holds all of us once we proclaim Him Lord.

     Our story today is well known even outside the Church.  The Samaritan woman at the well reaches beyond the confines of church buildings.  Jesus is sitting at the well that Jacob gave to Joseph, tired from His journey.  As a Jewish rabbi, His presence would have been remarkable.  Most “holy” men in Israel avoided Samaria like they would a leper colony.  Most Jews were taught to go around Samaria rather than risk going through it.  Why?  Because the Samaritans had broken the covenant with God!  During and after the Exile, the Samaritans married outside the twelve tribes.  That was, as you know, a big no-no.  Foreign husbands and wives, Yahweh had said, would lead the Jews astray.  Plus, ownership of the Land could pass out of the “faithful” families.  So, quickly speaking, the Samaritans were viewed as unfaithful half-breeds.  They were held in contempt by the Jews.  No one wanted to associate with them; no one wanted to hang out with them.

     Women, of course, were not very powerful in the ANE.  While it is true that God instructed the Jews to value women as created in His image, other cultures were not so enlightened.  In many cultures, women were little more than property.  But even in the Jewish culture, the peoples’ hearts did reflect the teaching of Yahweh.  We know from some of the stories in the Bible that men did not always want to care for older women and widows.  Now, combine those two attitudes in today’s story.  Our heroine is a Samaritan woman.  Perhaps you have a better understanding as to why Jesus’ disciples were amazed and astonished that He was speaking to her.  In their eyes, she was beneath pond scum.

     Notice as well her worth in the eyes of the Samaritan community.  At the beginning of the story, we do not know the why, but we know something is odd.  She comes to gather water at the well during the heat of the day, and she does so when no one else is around.  Why did she not do it at the beginning of the day when the sun was cooler?  Jesus explains that mystery for us.  He tells her that she has had five husbands and now lives with a man who is not her husband when she admits she is not married.  Ah, now it makes sense.  She is likely the focus of gossip in the community.  I am sure that in many pulpits today, people will hear that the lady was a harlot.  Some in the Church have taught that she lived with whoever would take her in.  Jesus’ words do not seem to support that teaching.  He tells her that she has had five husbands, not five live-in boyfriends.  Is it possible that she has been divorced and remarried multiple times?  Yes, that could be the source of the gossip.  But, it is also possible that she was black widow.  Everybody that she married died.  You think that would not cause some gossip?  And, let’s face it, I know we men are often stupid, but maybe number six saw the trend and opted, instead, for another arrangement rather than risking his own death.  As a five time widow, she certainly would not be dealing from a position of strength!

     Rather than try to explain what has happened in her life and how she has fallen short, the woman realizes that Jesus is a prophet.  She complains bitterly how the Jews treat the Samaritans, and Jesus tells her that the time is coming when the “where” will not matter in worship.  The Father will seek and accept all those who worship Him in spirit and truth.  The woman does not argue with Jesus.  I think it is fair to say that her faith in God is simple, but it is no less profound.  She tells Jesus that she knows that messiah will one day come and explain everything.  Put in our vernacular, she tells Jesus that God has promised to teach us everything when He sends His Savior.

     Jesus’ answer no doubt bothers those who like to claim that He never understood Himself to be the Son of God or the messiah, that those titles were appellated to Him after His Crucifixion.  Jesus tells her simply that He is the messiah.

     Notice her response.  Last week, we looked at Nicodemus and how his conversion took a good bit of time.  Hers is completely the opposite.  She recognizes that He is from God.  She may have thought Him only a prophet when He diagnosed her living arrangement despite not knowing her, but she accepts His claim to be the messiah of God at face value.  The transformation is immediate.  Those whom she sought to avoid by drawing water under the noonday sun become the very people she seeks to help her understand this prophet claiming to be messiah.  “He cannot be the messiah, can he?”  Some, no doubt come out of curiosity, but others were no doubt moved by her excitement.  If she had been avoiding them for some length of time, her attempts to engage them would have been shocking enough.  Then, to find out a Jewish rabbi, maybe a prophet of God, is sitting by their well--that would be miraculous!  Finding out He knew her sin and the reason she was separated from the community--they have good reasons to go and see with their own eyes.

     By the end of the story, of course, everyone in the city acknowledges that Jesus is the Savior of the world.  Notice, though, her enthusiasm and willingness to invite them only served to pique their curiosity.  “it is no longer because of what you said that we believe, for we have heard for ourselves.”  Those in the city have accepted her invitation to come and see.  Whether it was because “that woman” was making the claims or because it was the possibility that a prophet was among them does not matter.  All that matters is that they accepted the invitation to go and see and make up their own minds.  And, as a result of her faith and enthusiasm and her willingness to go and tell, a Samaritan woman ranks third as an evangelist in the New Testament.

     Why the concentration the past two weeks on Nicodemus and the Samaritan woman at the well?  Like Luke, we quarrel with God, we wrestle with God, bringing all kinds of baggage to those encounters.  Some of us think our own sins are so great that we must be the only ones for whom the Crucifixion could not atone or that Jesus would never have willingly gone to the Cross for us.  Others among us try to judge the quality of our faith.  My conversion, Father, took too long.  My faith was not nearly as impressive as that which leads to a Damascus Road experience.  Still others among us try and judge our own relative importance in the Kingdom building process to which we have been called.  I’m just me, Father.  I don’t really have anything special to offer God.  He does not really need me working for Him, I might just screw it up!  Ask somebody more important.  More tragically, there are even people in our lives who accept these inmost thoughts as true.  It is our job to remind them and ourselves that we are all, every single one of us, important to and loved by God.  He went willingly to the Cross to save me, and you and them.  No exceptions!  And He has promised that we have an equal share in the building of the Kingdom and in our inheritance.  Nicodemus and the Samaritan woman remind us of that truth.

     Nicodemus and the Samaritan woman could not be more unalike, yet their conversion stories in John are right next to each other.  Nicodemus is a male Jew, a member of the Sanhedrin, one of the insiders, the cool people.  It is good to be the king.  Yet the privilege to which he is entitled in some ways forms a barrier to his faith.  His conversion takes time.  It must be done in secret.  The Samaritan woman, by contrast, meets Jesus under the noonday sun.  She is a five-time wife and now living with someone else, an existence that causes her to be shunned by those who are rejected by the Jews.  Her conversion is nearly instantaneous.  And the water which gushes up in her causes her to go back to the very people that she is avoiding at the beginning of John’s narrative to share the Good News!  And those who rejected her, who gossiped about her, who shunned her, cannot help but respond positively to her invitation.  Who is more important in God’s Kingdom?  Nicodemus will purchase the spices and hurriedly place them in the tomb with Jesus’ body on Good Friday because he will not have time to prepare properly our Lord’s body for burial.  That will be a task left up to some other women on a very special morning indeed!  The Samaritan will initiate a community’s coming to faith in Christ!  God uses the rich and the poor, the powerful and the outcast, the men and the women, those who were born two thousand years ago and those born recently, any who are repentant and come to Him in faith.  That is all He asks of us.  Best of all, most glorious of all, He asks us where we are.  God always comes to us rather than hiding from us.  Just as He was willing to engage a “half-breed” woman under the glaring heat of the sun, He was willing to engage a “good old boy” Jew under the cloak of darkness.  He did or is doing the same for each one of us gathered here today, just as He does for Luke.

     Brothers and sisters, there are no second-class citizens in His kingdom.  There is no ghetto heaven for those of us who don’t quite measure up.  His promise is for all who come to Him in faith.  His promise, as Paul writes today, requires only that we accept His offer of grace.  It does not matter whether we are men or women, rich or poor, influential or barely hanging on, Democrat or Republican, Iowan or Illinoian, tastes great or less filling.  All He asks is that we believe in Him, that He died for our sins and rose again to demonstrate His power and hope in our lives, and that He will make in us a new creation, a glorious creation, capable of honoring and serving Him and others in our own lives.  That was the promise to Nicodemus; that was the promise to the Samaritan woman; that is His promise to you and to me.

Peace,

Brian†

What fig leaves have you fashioned?

     Who are you?  More specifically, is who you think you are the same as what others in your life think of you?  It is a challenging question, I know.  It requires a bit of self-awareness on our own part, and a willingness to engage others about ourselves.  And, let’s face it, many of us have different identities.  At my kids school, I have four different identities.  Depending upon who one speaks with, I am either Hannah’s dad, David’s dad, Mr. McVey, or Fr. Brian.  All four are correct, though I chafe at number three--that one is the one used of my grandfather or father, you know, the older men in my family!  But you get the idea.

     Some of us here gathered may be identified with our job.  You may be the barber, the engineer, the HR lady, the inventory control person, the plumber, the electrician, the teacher, the nurse, the housewife, or some other job.  Perhaps you come from a family that has a well known name, like the Hatfield’s and McCoys or the Rockefellers or the Buffet’s.  Maybe you identify yourself by your city.  When I lived in central Iowa, I never understood all the jokes about the gated community of Bettendorf.  Then I moved to the QCA.  We laugh, but we also know that some people identify themselves by where they live.  Let’s face it, who here wants to be from Missouri or Minnesota?  Many of us here have been identified as mom or dad.  Many are identified as grandma or grandpa.  A few of us gathered here today have lived long enough to add the appellation “great” to our grandma or grandpa identity.  Some of us may be identified by our politics.  Democrat or republican or now, independent, are popular identities.  And we are not the only culture to struggle over the question of identity, as evidenced by actions and rhetoric in the Ukraine, Crimea, and Russia.  Some of us may even identify ourselves by the suffering in our lives?  Know anybody with cancer or another disease who is known more for the struggle with the disease than anything else?  How about failed relationships?  There’s an old scene in Friends where Ross dreads being known as thrice divorced.  So, given now you know of what I was asking, does who you think you are correspond to how others identify you?

     In many ways, Lent is about our identity.  Lent is that season in the Church when you and I are called to reflect upon ourselves and our relationship with God.  How does God see me?  You may have noticed this year that I have a bit of an edge to my pokings and proddings when you have come in to tell me what you are giving up for Lent.  I won’t ask for a show of hands, but how many of you have heard me ask “and how does giving that up draw you closer to God?”  Keep in mind, I am not mocking you when I ask that question.  Lent is a sober season, a brutal season.  And it is my job to help you draw closer to Him.  The world wants to convince us that we are unique.  Either we can have it because we are special, or we need the world’s help because we are beneath notice.  We are bombarded daily with self-help and get-rich schemes.  There is a superficiality that is unacceptable in the Church, but especially during the season of Lent.  During Lent, those new to the faith are called to remind ourselves that we are in need of a Savior.  Those in the faith for a longer period are called to evaluate ourselves to see if we are maturing.  And those estranged from God are called to repentance and a new start with God.  All of us gathered here today should be a few days into that evaluation process.  Part of the way that we evaluate ourselves is to ask others how they see us.  How many of us have done this?  How many of us have asked those in our lives whether they see Christ in us?  And trust me folks, your friends and family and co-workers are watching you.  You and your life may well be the best sermon they ever hear.  And none of us, I suspect, wants people standing over our coffin or cremains container saying “huh, I never knew he/she was a Christian.”

     Identity, of course, is a theme in all of today’s readings.  There are other teachings, to be sure, but one teaching running through the readings is the question of identity.  Three people in our readings actually have the identity God intended, though only One ultimately accepted it.  Genesis begins with the sin of Adam and Eve.  Think about that for a second.  Adam and Eve had unfettered, unfiltered access to God in the Garden.  Ultimately, seduced by the tempter, they rejected that identity.  They ate of the Tree of which God commanded them not to eat.  What happened?  No longer were they able to accept who they were.  They covered their nakedness with fig leaves.  Think of how stupid that sounds to our ears.  Uh, oh.  My eyes are opened.  I am going to cover myself with leaves so that God can’t see who or what I am.  But how many of us do things that make just as much sense?  I am going to make sure everyone knows how much I give so that they think I am a good Christian and that God is pleased with me.  I am going to make sure that I help lots of people so that everyone thinks I am a good Christian and that God is pleased with me.  I am going to memorize lots of Bible verses so that everyone knows that I read the Bible a lot and thinks I am a good Christian and that God is pleased with me.  Lots of us have taken on the airs of modern Pharisees so that, externally we appear as holy and righteous, but inwardly we are rotten to the core.  Unfortunately for us, all are trappings, all those external airs we like to show to the world, hide our identity from God as well as fig leaves did for Adam and Eve.

     Jesus, in Matthew’s Gospel, also has to deal with the question of identity.  This week, in Lent 1, we read about the so-called messianic temptations.  If You are the Son of God, turn the stones into bread.  If You are the Son of God, cast Yourself off the height of the Temple.  And seeing those temptations fail, Satan tests our Lord by offering Him the easy path to Lordship.  If You will fall down and worship me, I will give You the nations.  Think of those temptations!  The first two challenge Jesus’ relationship with the Father.  Who is Jesus?  He is the Son of God.  And Satan is trying to trick our Lord, as He did Adam and Eve, into disobedience.  In essence, Satan, like the crowds at the foot of the Cross in a few weeks, is trying to get Jesus to doubt His identity and to prove it to him (or them).  Thankfully and mercifully, Jesus will not be deceived.  Frustrated at that failure, Satan offers Jesus an easy path to lordship.  The temptation is that there is no real need for Jesus to walk the path that leads to the Cross.  He can revel in the false glory of Satan now, simply by choosing a different path.  Again, thankfully and mercifully, Jesus chooses the path of obedience to God.  We say thankfully and mercifully because, as Paul reminds us this morning in his letter to the Romans, Jesus’ faithfulness allows us to re-enter the relationship with God that He intended.  Jesus’ faithfulness allow us to reassume our true identity!

     I have danced a bit around the issue of identity this morning, but I have done so intentionally.  Our readings today lay out well the human condition and the effort of God to call us back into right relationship with Him.  God created us, human beings, to be in full communion with Him.  You and I, like Adam and Eve, were intended by Him to understand that we were His beloved sons and beloved daughters.  That, brothers and sisters, was the identity that He gave us!  We belonged to Him.  And much of the rest of Scripture deals with this problem of identity.  Once we sinned, how does God see us?  He sees us like we see harlots.  He sees us for the adulterous creatures that we are.  He sees us with so many fig leaves covering ourselves, with tattered garments replacing the glory He gave us.  Instead of seeking Him in whose image we were created, we seek to “find ourselves” in our jobs or the wealth our jobs create, in our relationships, in the bottom of a bottle, in any number of idols which lead only to death.  We became such an anathema to Him that our spiritual forefathers and foremothers were scared of His voice in Sinai, that they could not see His face even when He called them as prophets, that they over time began to subvert His teachings into what they thought His teachings should be.  Hmmm.  What do you know?  Satan was right.  We became like God.  In fact, we became creations who thought they could do better than God.

     Were this the end of the story, it would be tragic, indeed.  Were it the final measure of our identity, you and I would be doomed.  We would be known as our failures.  As I have spoken today, I hope you have heard the Holy Spirit prompting you about your fig leaves.  How do you identify yourself, really?  How do those in your life identify you?  The great news of Jesus’ success is that how we see ourselves and how others see us need not be the end of our story.  If we have identified ourselves wrongly, if we have thought of ourselves as our own masters, if we have equated ourselves with our diseases or addictions, if we have traded our glory for rags, God only demands one thing from us: repentance.

     Lent is that time when we reflect upon ourselves.  We focus on removing those things from our lives which separate us from our true identity, and we take on those disciplines which draw us closer to our Lord, which is where we find our true identity.  Lent is also a time when we concentrate on the love that Christ bore for us despite our sins, despite our failures, despite our rags.  Those temptations that He resisted remind each of us of His power to save us and of His love for each one of us.  Had He chosen any path but the one that led to Calvary, you and I would still be condemned.  Now, however, as Paul reminds us, we who repent and call Him Lord have been restored to God.  No longer does He see us with flimsy fig leaves hiding us.  No.  Now He sees His Son our Lord in us, and us in Him.

     Brothers and sisters, many of you come here this day with incredible burdens.  Some of us are struggling with particular sins.  Some of us are struggling with serious disease and even death.  Many of us are struggling in our relationships.  And all of us wonder at times or even all the time whether His love extends to us, given all the fig leaves we have fashioned to cover our sins and failures.  But just as the story of Genesis does not end with the curse of sin in the lives of Adam and Eve, neither do our own lives!  You see, Lent leads inexorably to that wonderful Easter.  You and I will watch in amazement and horror of the price Christ paid for our redemption.  Better still, we will rejoice in our Lord’s faithfulness to His Son.  Why?  Our Lord’s obedience and glory is imputed to us, if we but repent.  It really is that simple.  He really does love each one of us that much.

     As a discipline this week, let me encourage you to spend some time listening to God.  How are you trying to identify yourself apart from Him?  What ridiculous fig leaves have you fashioned to carve out your own identity?  Ask around.  Ask those who matter to you?  Ask those who do not know you well, and pray on what you hear.  Then ask yourself, are you content to keep wearing leaves and rags?  Or would you rather exchange those leaves and rags for the glory of our Lord?  Would you rather your Lord judge you on the the basis of your own identity?  Or would you rather Him judge you on the basis of His?

Peace,

Brian†

One day Violet will be perfect, too!

     Does He really mean what He is saying here?  What does He mean by that statement? -- Robin was annoyed that she did not switch the readings to the Transfiguration before she printed the Orders of Worship.  I had told her not to worry too much about it as all Scripture is good for us to ponder.  Yes, it seems a bit disjointed with the Collect of the Day, but the last verse sure seems to have caused problems last week.  A few of the inmates grabbed Larry about it last week, and it came up again Thursday morning at Bible study.  So what is Jesus saying, and how is it any way inspirational for a baptism this morning?

     For those of you absent the last couple weeks, allow me to place the statement in its context.  Matthew has just spent a number of verses describing the Sermon on the Mount.  Jesus began with the beatitudes and reminded people that He did not come to abolish the torah.  From there, Jesus has taught the crowds the original meanings of some of the commandments.  Those are the “you have it said . . . but I say unto you . . .” statements of Jesus.  Each of those restatements, of course, comes from the One who was raised from the dead, so we know His interpretations are correct.  But he ends this long section with the statement translated in the NIV as “Therefore, be perfect as your Father in heaven is perfect.”  What is going on?  How can mere humans be perfect like our Father in heaven?  I mean, if we could be perfectly righteous and holy, we would not have needed the torah in the first place!  So what is going on?  What does Jesus mean, and what are His instructions to us?

     Part of the problem is a problem of translation.  The words of Matthew are in the future tense of Greek, as in Therefore, you shall be perfect as your Father in heaven is perfect.  Were Jesus’ words a simple present imperative, what you and I think of as a command when our bosses tell us to do something or we tell our children to do their chores, we would be doomed to fail.  There is no way that we can keep being perfect.  We are, by virtue of our inclination towards sin, going to fail if the responsibility of being perfect fell to us.  But by using the future tense, Jesus is setting a goal before His listeners and before us.  We are to pursue the righteousness, the holiness, the perfection, that is our Father in heaven.  That is our ultimate goal.  Curiously, though, it is a goal which will require a great deal of help, as if the Perfecter of our faith did not know!

     Jesus’ words are meant in three senses, all of which ought to remind us of our lives once we were re-birthed in our own baptisms.  In one sense, Jesus’ words are a command.  This ought not surprise us too much because He has been setting aside the mis-teachings of the Pharisees and Rabbis in lieu of the right interpretation.  Husbands and wives are called to a oneness which reflects the unity of the Trinity; we are called not to be angry with our friends, neighbors, enemies, or anyone else because they, like us, are created in His image; we are called to suffer abuse, modeling the behavior the Son exemplified during His ministry on earth; we are called to love our enemies, to offer our other cheeks in a fight and even called to go the extra mile for those whom we should most despised.  All of this is done not just for suffering’s sake, but for the express purpose of loving others into the kingdom of God.  Our behavior ought to provoke curiosity.  Our behavior ought to provoke questions.  Why do you pray for your enemies?  Why do you try to live peaceably?  

     In another sense, though, Jesus’ words to us are a promise.  We are about to embark on the season of Lent.  Part of the purpose of this season is to remind us of our sins and our need for a Savior.  And though we enter the season of Lent perhaps hoping to mature a bit in our faith, we realize that the maturation process, what theologians call sanctification, is not up to us.  Part of the reason for Jesus’ death, Resurrection, and Ascension was to baptize us in the Holy Spirit.  Through His work, we are empowered to accomplish amazing things.  But the first amazing thing where we get to see the Holy Spirit at work is in our own lives.  Most of us, if we have been a disciple for some time, can look back and see our progress.  We can see how that sin and that sin have been left behind.  How?  Through His grace.  But, even though we have transformed in some areas, it is an uneasy comfort.  With the perfection of our Father in heaven as a future goal, we realize our current shortfalls, our current sins.  We may no longer be tempted by some particular sins in our daily life, but we are still sorely tempted in other areas.  We realize that we are not yet perfect as our Father in heaven is perfect.  In this way, Jesus’ command that we shall be perfect holds out a promise for us.  Yes, the process of sanctification will take time.  Yes, we can always be critical of its process, knowing that, even if our friends and neighbors think us holy and righteous, our standard, our goal has not yet been reached!

     Of course, were we never to reach our goal that Jesus sets for us, the perfection of our Father in heaven, we would likely become frustrated with our calling.  If we thought we could never reach the perfection of our Father in heaven, how many of us would continue the struggle?  How many of us would continue to be disciples?  By phrasing the command the way He does, Jesus also gives us hope.  Since He was raised from the dead, we know His words to be true.  If He says that we will be perfect as our Father in heaven is perfect, then it must be true.  God is not in the business of raising liars from the dead.  He is in the business of raising the His Son, His perfect image.  He is also in the business of raising all those who are in His Son.  In that sense, Jesus’ words are a reminder that one day, one day we will be remade perfectly in the image of our Father in heaven.  He will burn off the dross, reshape our minds, and cut the fat from our hearts.  He will no longer need to teach us because we will understand fully.  He will not need to lead us because we will see clearly those things hidden from us now.  And we will share in His perfection for all eternity.

     In a few moments, we will move to the baptismal font and begin the process of adopting Violet into His family.  As a baby, the vows will be made on her behalf by Drew and Emily and her Godparents.  They will promise to teach her what our Lord first revealed to His disciples nearly two thousand years ago.  They will promise to help her continue in the fellowship of the Apostles.  And they will promise to teach her to repent whenever she falls into sin.  To those outside the faith, the statement may cause hopelessness because of its magnitude.  For us, though, those baptized into His death and Resurrection, the statement is not just a command, but also a promise and the hope of amazing grace.  We can look at our relationship with God and know that, through the work and person of Christ, we are redeemed.  But we can look at that Person of Christ, the perfect image of our Father in heaven, and realize that the Spirit has much work to do in each of us.  Though Violet’s journey of salvation will likely be full of potholes and failures as are ours, her journey is assured because He has promised.  He has promised that, so long as we accept His offer of grace, one day all who are baptized into the Name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit will be perfect, just as our Father in heaven is perfect.

Peace,

Brian†