The priorities in our lives . . .

     I find it interesting the way that readings come up in the lectionary.  For all my griping about some of the editing, I do love the way the readings force us along and the way that we have four choices every week.  That is especially true this week.  Looking back three years, we were apparently in a place of transition.  The last time the passing of the mantle of Elijah had come up Michelle was taking over AFM from Vern, we had a couple unexpected voices on the Vestry, and we had even had a switch from Rick to Annette as Treasurer.  Discussing change was very appropriate, given where we were.  Of course, with the exception of Jon taking over for Annette, we do not have much change.

     On the other hand, three years ago we were not focusing as intently upon discipleship as we are this time around.  Thankfully, the same set of readings that allows for us to examine change in leadership also includes good teaching on discipleship.  In fact, Luke chapter 9 begins an extensive treatment of the commitment required of disciples of Jesus and of how that commitment to Him will often cause divisions and even hostility to Him and His mission.  Over the course of the next few chapters, Luke will recount how the temple elites come to view Jesus’ ministry as a threat to their own power and authority.  But, in today’s short lesson, we get two small lessons about discipleship, lessons which are important and, yet, hard to digest.

     The passage begins with Jesus sending His disciples ahead of Him through Samaria.  It is almost a cast away set up, yet think of its importance.  Jesus has gone to Samaria to preach repentance and forgiveness of sins!  Samaritans were viewed as traitors and half-breeds by those in the southern kingdom because they intermarried with pagan nations.  Luke tells us that the Samaritans rejected Jesus because His face was set on Jerusalem.  Their rejection is understandable, if misplaced.  The capital city of the people who mock and ridicule them is the ultimate, determine destination of Jesus.  Why should they want to help Him along on His journey let alone listen to Him, knowing He is heading to Jerusalem.  The lesson for His disciples in two-fold.  First, James and John want to call down fire on the village that rejects Jesus.  Notice our Lord’s response.  He rebukes them!  There will be a time for judgment, but it will be His judgement and it will be His time!  That seems only fair.  After all, He is the One being rejected.  You and I are called to remember in the course of our lives’ ministry and service that, when the Gospel is rejected, our Lord is the One who is rejected.  In rejecting our sincere efforts to share the Gospel, people are actually rejecting our Lord who sends us.  This is an important aspect of evangelism to remember.  We are called to love and serve and witness others into the kingdom, cognizant of the fact that not all want to call Him Lord.  Our job is to as winsomely as possible witness to His saving and redeeming love.  If they turn and repent, the glory is His; if they continue along and reject, the rejection is His.  The personal stake really is His.  We do well to remember that, and we do better not to desire judgment at all times, particularly when we know the stakes.

     I often half-jokingly tell people I am glad I don’t have some of my powers in real life that I have in WoW.  Yes, I understand the aggravation of rejection.  Yes, I understand the feelings of humiliation and failure.  But I also understand that His love and His willingness to call human beings to Himself over and over and over far exceeds my personal patience, and most of yours as well.  To put these in terms that make more sense, what if I could cast “Holy Fire” on people who used to ignore the stop signs here in front of the church whenever they cussed at me or gave me the universal sign of respect?  Can you imagine the utter destruction?  How deep would the potholes be?  How big would the scorch marks be?  Sure, there would have been a feeling of vindication, at least until I found out someone had had a bad day, that someone I had nuked had been fired, or beaten by a loved one, or hurt in other ways that the world hurts us.  Would I have meant well in casting the bolts?  Hopefully.  After all, I helped officers clean up after 26 accidents my first three years here.  I saw the consequences of impatience.  I knew the hurt; I knew the worry about replacing a car.  But like James and John, I did not know the heart of the one who raced through the signs.  What business would I have with such power?

     Thankfully, several women took it upon themselves to remind me to pray for those who cussed me out, who gave me the finger, and who otherwise made that intersection such a dangerous place.  Have you prayed for them?  Have you tried to figure out how we can help make it safer?   Are you ever really in that big of a hurry to get home or to church that you cannot let someone race ahead of you out of turn?  Each of us gathered here today knows of what I am speaking, even if you have no idea about the lightning bolt zap and accompanying burn over time of Holy Fire in WoW.  There are, simply put, times in our life where we become so convinced the world and God’s plan of salvation would be better if only we were in charge that we act in ways or say things without realizing the consequence.  Each of us has experienced the mercy and patience of our Lord; yet each of us have experienced the judgment and impatience of the flesh.  One of the requirements of discipleship is to remember that patience and care which He showed us and reflect it in our love and service of others.

     Of course, the other part of the teaching of this Samaritan response is the reminder that rejection can come from anywhere.  In the larger scheme of Luke, this passage takes place in the rejection of Israel of the One who comes in the fulfillment of His promises.  This section of Luke, unfortunately, will end with Jesus weeping as He enters Jerusalem.  He is not weeping because He has failed.  Indeed, He will have blessed all of those who have turned to Him for salvation.  No, our Lord cries because Jerusalem has missed and rejected the visit of her Lord and King.  We might like to think that only the rich and the powerful and the privileged can reject God, but even those on the margins like the Samaritans can reject Him as well.  Our job is simply to be loving and winsome in our efforts to serve, ready to have an account of why we do what we do, and unsurprised both at those who turn to Him and at those who reject Him.  We are, in truth, called to do faithfully whatever tasks with which He entrusts us.  He, working through the Holy Spirit, gives meaning and purpose to our work.

     The second lesson about discipleship in Luke’s Gospel is tough.  I know from time to time that people wonder what is going on with Jesus when He tells the man not to bury the dead or the other man not to look back.  Most of us, save perhaps Amanda, think that the time for giving up everything for the service of the kingdom is a quaint notion that has had its time and passed.  In her trips to Tanzania, she has seen the cost of discipleship first hand.  Some of those whom she has met have been abandoned by families, by employers, and by friends because they are Christians.  In the West, we take it for granted that one can claim to be a Christian or a druid or an atheist and often elicit the same response of indifference.  In some parts of the world, as in the ANE in Jesus’ day, following Jesus meant giving up everything.  There was a real cost to discipleship.

     What of those last two statements?  Doesn’t Jesus want us to bury our dead?  Can’t we say good-bye to our families?  Are those good things, burying our dead and having good relationships with our families?  Of course.  Burying the dead is even in God’s economy.  The problem is a question of priorities and primacy.  In both cases, it is the Incarnation of the Holy Trinity calling.  It is Jesus who says “Come, follow me.”  If He is Lord of our lives, He gets primacy over everything in our lives.  The “but wait” comments we love to say to Him simply remind us that He is not quite the Lord we profess Him to be.  Should the man want to bury his father?  Of course.  But the greater desire should be to follow the Messiah, the Incarnation, while He is here on earth.  At some point, we know it to be the Ascension, that part of Jesus’ ministry will end.  Put differently, we will always have the poor to clothe, the prisoners to visit, the hungry to feed, and the dead to bury.  We will not always have our Lord with us.  In the face of that reality, these two men chose poorly.

     Jesus’ response to the second man reminds us of the difficulty of following Him.  Those of us who are OCD might understand this better, but everyone who has followed Kathleen’s travels and pictures in Israel ought to understand this as well.  The land in Israel is not flat.  It’s not like Indiana, where one can see for miles and miles.  Similarly, it is not full of rich soil.  There are lots and lots of rocks.  When one is plowing behind an ox (using ANE methods), what can happen when one looks back?  The furrows can get wonky.  We might trip over rocks.  Heck, in the wrong place, one might even fall!  The plower’s face must always be looking ahead to get nice straight lines and to maximize the potential harvest when obstacles are in the way.

     Discipleship is very much like that, too.  Like St. Augustine, before he was found by the Lord Christ, we might like the parties, the debaucheries, the idols of our past life which drove us to distraction, and even sleeping in on Sunday mornings when we know we should be worshipping our Lord.  But once found, our priorities should shift.  There is no way that we can reconcile the idols of the old life will the trials and demands of the new life in Christ.  Jesus is not hiding this fact.  He is, instead, making this clear from the start of our relationship with Him.  His call is absolute, even though He understands far better than us our weaknesses and temptations.

     Truthfully, I spent some time trying to think of this in terms in which we can better understand.  It finally hit me on the return from Grinnell on Friday.  Discipleship is like marriage.  I know, He calls us to a wedding feast, but I am talking about the way our lives change from when we turn to Him and follow Him.  Many of us are or have been married.  Hopefully, each of you present had good pastoral counseling beforehand.  One of those questions a prospective young couple must answer is the question of the new family unit.  From the time until we are born or adopted until the time we marry another, we are part of our home families.  They teach us their customs, what is important to them, how to behave, everything.  But at some point in life a man and a woman find one another and, hopefully, discern that God is calling them to marry.  All those traditions and all those expectations must be addressed.  We as pastors try to give them a sense of what is about to happen.  Where will you celebrate Thanksgiving?  Christmas?  Vacation?  What foods will you serve?  How will the money be managed?  What are your thoughts about children?  How will you discipline?  What about school?  Who is going to help with the homework?  As you each know, I could go on and on and on.  The problem is that the bride and groom may have been raised with all kinds of expectations.  Once they determine to marry, however, there is a cleaving which must take place for the marriage to fulfill its purposes.  The two become one.  The traditions of two, the expectations of two, must become the traditions and expectations of the new family.  It is incredibly hard.  The families will often push back, sometimes intentionally and sometimes unintentionally.  But we always celebrate Christmas together.  We always serve turduckham for Thanksgiving.  We never open presents on Christmas Eve.  It is the responsibility of the boys to put the seat down when finished.  You are laughing, but you and I know it is a rueful laugh.  Most of us have been there.  Most of us have found ourselves torn.  We love those who raised us.  We love our families.  Yet, we also love the one we have chosen to marry, one who also loves his or her families and his or her own traditions.  That we ever negotiate those beginning minefields is big evidence of God’s grace in our lives.

     The truth is that those negotiations are really the husband and the wife carving out their own life together.  They are called, for better and for worse and in sickness and in health, to begin the creation of their own family.  Can you imagine the pain and the hurt if one was always looking back saying “this is ok, but when I was younger we did this”?  Some of you may have been that spouse or married to that spouse.  You know the pain and the hurt and the disappointment.

     Following Jesus is like marrying Him.  Sorry guys, I know it is an uncomfortable image.  But think of the similarities.  He desires to re-orient all our life for the purpose of glorifying Him and growing His kingdom through faithful obedience.  He creates a new relationship which supersedes all prior relationships.  All.  We are called to love Him more than family, more than friends, and even more than we love ourselves.  Part of the problem with looking back, as He warns today, is that we can be more easily seduced astray.  If the idols of our lives were money or power or alcohol or other relationships or sloth, think of how much easier it is for us to turn astray if we are always remembering “the good old days.”  Put in the language of the day for those of you who are or have been married, how much does your or did your spouse like it when you brought up the positive attributes of a prior boyfriend or girlfriend?  Your spouse only married you.  Now, think how God must feel when you wistfully think on idols in your life, knowing that He went willingly to the Cross to save you.

     Is this calling to be a disciple easy?  No.  It is an incredibly difficult task.  It lasts from the moment we invite Him to become our Lord until our death.  There are no vacations.  There are no coffee breaks.  What’s worse, there is a certain individualism about each call.  Each of us experiences a different life of a disciple.  Each of us will progress in that transformative process at different speeds.  And each of us has different talents and responsibilities which He will use, assuming we let Him, for His unfathomable purpose of growing His kingdom.  Look around this room for just a second.  Your experience of the Lordship of Christ is far different than the persons at whom you are looking.  Some of express His sovereignty through health while others express that same sovereignty through our illnesses.  Some of us express His sovereignty through our relative wealth while others express His sovereignty through relative poverty.  Some of us express His sovereignty confident in our faith while others of us express His sovereignty clinging as hard as we can to His promises despite our unbelief.  And yet, each of us gathered here understands that His call to discipleship ought to have primacy in our lives.  Many of us gathered around this altar know our failures and the failures of those with whom we gather today to celebrate our Lord’s death, Resurrection, and Ascension as we await His coming.  We know the patience and grace with which He has dealt with us and them.  When we allowed our priorities to become misplaced, He did not nuke us or them.  Instead, He called us to repent and to try again to obey.

     Does His calling to be a disciple deserve primacy in our lives?  Ah, that is the question with which many of us struggle, is it not?  How do I know I am not wasting my time or spinning my wheels trying to follow this God whom the world tries so hard to forget or ignore?  That, brothers and sisters, is the question of faith.  If the body of that carpenter’s son is rotting in the ground, then we are to be pitied.  But, if He was raised from the dead, as Luke and John and James and Mary and Martha and all those claim He was, then all His promises are sure and all His demands worthy, including His demand that our discipleship under Him have priority over everything else in our lives and in the world.

Peace,

Brian†

Remembering Alban . . .

     Am I really THAT important in His plan?  Does my service really make that big of a difference?  I’m only one person . . . --Statements and questions such as these pop up from time to time in ministry.  Sometimes, as we engage in ministries which are long running or have no real expectation of victory, Christians can get bogged down on the outcome of their efforts.  For example, ever feel exasperated at serving the Community Meal month after month year after year?  Ever think we are wasting our times trying to help families stretch their grocery dollars or food stamps?  Ever get tired of collecting food for the food bank?  All are natural victims to outcome thinking.  Have we really made a dent in hunger in our community?  Ever wonder what business we have taking on a multibillion dollar shadowy industry?  After all, we are fighting it with barely a six figure budget.  Ever wonder why we work hard trying to help those in our community who minister to battered women and their children in Christ’s name?  Have we really made a dent in the amount of spouse abuse in our community?  Those kinds of frustrations are natural for human beings and for churches.  We like to see an outcome from our efforts.  We like to know we are making a difference.  Fortunately for each one of us gathered here this week, we remember a saint whose service is etched in our collective DNA.  Yes, it is that time of the year when we remember our patron, Alban, and the ministry for which he is known.

     I was laughing earlier this week with the ladies from Thursday morning and from teasing a certain Welsh parishioner.  We had only the lives of three saints to discuss last week.  Naturally, our interest gravitated more to the life and death of Alban.  One lady asked why we had chosen Alban.  Alban is not the most famous of saints.  Iowa may have two churches that bear his name, but there does not seem to be many in the United States.  Jan Chapman said he had been chosen by a vote of the parishioners.  Apparently, in the beginning, we entertained David and Alban as patrons.  I joked, as is my wont, that it must not have been a big battle.  After all, who around here would choose the patron saint of vegetarians as our own namesake?  That bit, as you might have imagined, provoked a bit of a response among those closely tied to Wales.

     All kidding aside, our forefathers and foremothers made an interesting choice.  For those of you new to this community and unaware of Alban’s claim to fame, I will be brief.  Alban was a Roman soldier serving in England.  It used to be accepted that this occurred around the early 300‘s AD, but now scholarship seems to be pointing to a century before, under the persecutions of Septimius Severus a century before.  An itinerant priest fleeing from persecution found his way into our namesake’s tent.  The soldier, upon hearing the Gospel from the priest, converted to Christianity.  The new convert then changed clothes with the priest and sent the priest on his way, hoping to preserve his life.  The soldier was arrested, tortured, and eventually killed.  The cathedral of St. Alban’s in England, is built on the site where the new convert was executed for his faith.

     The story of his martyrdom was apparently etched into the collective of the local population.  As a Roman soldier, our patron had the power of the state on his side.  Something, however, grabbed him to the point that he was willing to give up that life.  People turned out in droves to witness the execution.  So many came, allegedly, that the soldiers and Alban could not make their way across the bridge over the river Ver to the site of the execution.  Alban had to pray to God to stop the waters of the Ver, which He did, so that they could cross over on dry ground.  Alban also prayed that he might be given water to to wash himself before meeting God.  God answered that prayer by causing a spring to bubble to the surface where Alban could wash.  The story goes that the execution was so moved by these miracles that he refused to chop the head off the former soldier.  The second executioner, presumably the first’s assistant, did the deed and, depending on which version you accept, either had his eyes pop out of his head and died or had his heart stop beating in his chest and died the very moment the axe touched the neck our beloved patron.

     If we had written this story, we likely would have not allowed Alban to die.  Had we written this story, perhaps we would have given Alban the opportunity to preach the Gospel to his commanders and bring a legion or governor into a right relationship with God through Christ, mirroring what happened to him thanks to that priest.  Unfortunately, we don’t write the story.  And fortunately for Alban, our Lord does, and He can redeem all things, even death itself!  Why do I remind us of that?  If you are new to St. Alban’s, you might think the priest got away.  He didn’t.  He apparently returned upon hearing of Alban’s capture and was summarily executed.  The first execution, you know--the one who recognized God at work in the life of Alban, was also killed for refusing to put Alban to death.  Three senseless deaths.  Three quick senseless deaths.  How could the life of the priest and the new convert ever make a difference?

     Both, of course, served God faithfully.  The priest apparently travelled and shared the Gospel with any who would listen, even Roman soldiers he stumbled upon while fleeing authorities, knowing that to do so was to court death.  The easy thing to do would be to take off the priestly attire and blend in by not sharing the Gospel.  But, thankfully for us, the priest was faithfully obedient.  Alban, too, chose to be faithfully obedient.  How easy would it have been to pretend that the priest stole his clothes or knocked him out and switched clothes?  Or, upon questioning, how easy would it have been to deny Christ and pinch the incense at the altar in honor of the Roman gods?  After all, Alban had not know Christ for very long, had he?  Why the extreme behavior?  Both simply obeyed faithfully what God called them to do, and they trusted that God would give meaning to their ministry.

     We often pray that God can do more than we ever ask or imagine.  The ministry of our patron certainly bears witness to that truth in our own lives.  The state won.  Their lives were snuffed out, by all accounts, rather quickly.  And yet, the sight of a Roman soldier laying down his life for Christ, made a lasting impression on the local village.  People not only turned out to witness Alban’s martyrdom, they remembered it!  Tertullian, an early Church bishop who likely preceded our patron by a few decades, once wrote that the blood of the martyrs is the seed of the Church.  What he meant was later experienced by those who came to Britain at the instruction of the Pope.  In the late 6th century, word reached Rome that English pagans would convert in great numbers if enough priests could be found to instruct them properly.  What helped Christianity stay alive in the minds of the general public?  Among them was the witness of our beloved saint.

      Brothers and sisters, as I noted earlier, it is normal to want to know that our work makes a difference.  Who does not like to see results?  But the conversion and death of our saint reminds us that we cannot give meaning nor results to our work.  Only God can give results; He is the One who appoints meaning.  Since our meeting with the bishop’s staff last month, I have been reflecting on the ministries of the parish.  There are, as they noted, a lot of interesting corporate ministries happening in our midst.  As I have spent time reflecting, however, I realize that a large number of you have some amazing individual ministries at work among those whom we serve.  One goes to a prison where the supply of prisoners never dwindles.  Another serves those who are dying or near death by reminding those suffering of the promises of our Lord.  Several among us have vibrant prayer lives.  They don’t just go through the motions of praying, they do so determinedly expecting an answer from God!  One of us has the gift of hospitality, of doing those odd jobs that makes our gatherings more pleasant.  Nine of us (10 counting Maralyn) each year volunteer time and energy discerning God’s will for this parish.  One of us has taken on the cause of immigrants and refugees in a manner that honors our patron, who is the patron of refugees and immigrants.  Several of us volunteer time to help care for people in our lives, either through companionship or performing odd jobs or even the preparation of meals.  Some of us have been called to be advocates, in one way or another, speaking of the needs of those on the margins in this community, reminding ourselves and the community around us that foreclosures, or unemployment, or bullying, or whatever are not just numbers.  They are lives, lives redeemed by our Lord at cost of His body and His blood.

     In the face of such intense personal ministries, and the corporate ministries which we as a parish have adopted, it is sometimes easy to feel as if our work amounts to nothing, as if we are living the life of Sisyphus rolling his boulder to no significant end.  You and I like have a particular response in mind when we begin any ministry.  But you and I are reminded, both in the readings assigned for his day and in the life and martyrdom of our saint, that it is our Lord who assigns significance and it is our Lord who cultivates the results.  All we can do is serve where He calls us to serve, trusting that He does nothing without purpose.  We may act on His authority and with His blessing, but only He has the power to redeem all things.  That knowledge ought to inspire us!  That knowledge ought to free us!  If we are not responsible for anything other than faithful effort, then we are never failures when we act in His name to the glory of Christ.  Never.  The same Lord, who took an itinerant priest, a soldier’s conversion, and a couple martyr’s deaths and inscribed them on the hearts of those who witnessed the events is the same Lord who calls you to serve Him.  And just as He was faithful to Alban, so He will be to you and to me.  All we must do is faithfully perform those tasks He has given us to do.  The rest is up to Him.

     Brothers and sisters, you are each called to a community of faith which remembers the witness of Alban some 18 centuries later, this despite edicts and persecutions and any number of world events which threatened the spread of our faith in the Empire and in the time surrounding its collapse.  The same God who saw the Church through that difficult period will see you through yours.  When you wonder if it is worth it, when you wonder whether your effort truly makes any difference, think on Alban who remembered that he and that priest and all who would come after, were of inestimable value to the One who first gave up His life at the hands of Romans who measured their successes by military victories and accumulated wealth, those same Romans who are now extinct and a memory while His bride, the Church, you, continues about His will.

Peace,

Brian†