An introduction to the Psalter and an invitation to the blessed life in God!

     I suppose I landed on the Psalm this week by way of encouragement from the Monday morning Bible Study group.  At different times over the last couple weeks, I have been reminded that I do not do enough commercials for that group.  So, in the interest of promotion, we have a group on Monday morning that is working its way through the Psalter.  We talk of poetry and the human condition and of David and Jesus and how the Psalter still sings to us today.  Absolutely no familiarity with the Psalter is required.  All that is required is a genuine hunger and thirst for God, and perhaps a bit of artistic bent does not hurt!  And, if you want to know more about that study, or even about this psalm in particular after today, I encourage you to ask those who come!

     A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away, I had a professor who nagged us students that we ignored the psalms to the detriment of our congregations and to our own spiritual life.  He was a professor of the Old Testament, so it makes sense that he loved the Psalter.  He also was not Episcopalian or Anglican, but he appreciated the fact that the Psalms figured prominently in our Eucharists and Daily Offices.  His love of the Psalms was far more than academic familiarity.  We speak often about the psalms being written for those who process or see the world differently.  If you are very much a cause and effect, actions have consequences, just give me the facts kind of individual, linear processor, the psalms may well drive you nuts.  By contrast, if you find yourself enraptured by poetry, enjoying a painting, fed in ways by great music that you cannot explain to your rationalistic friends, then the psalms may have been inspired by God for you!

     The Psalms are, in a real sense, a retelling of the Old Testament.  Their relationship to the Old Testament is made obvious by their division that is reminiscent of the Pentateuch, the first five books attributed to Moses.  Their ties to the prophets and historians of the Old Testament are made even clearer by specific word choices.  In some case, the psalmist chooses a word that is well developed over the breadth of the Old Testament.  Hesed comes to mind, God’s covenant love of His people; as does asre, blessed, which we will pick up in a moment.  Sometimes a location or word is mentioned which is meant to point us to a much bigger story.  If we are unfamiliar with the bigger story, we might miss the significance of the Psalm or at least the deeper meaning intended by a word or phrase choice.

     Psalm 1 is unique not just because of its focus on asre, blessed, but also because of its structural place in the Psalter.  Were we to go back in time, the psalm that you and I read today is not Psalm 1.  It was the introduction to the entire Psalter.  It stood apart from the Psalter, in certain respects, reminding you and me why we should be engaging in the study of this poetry.  If you want to consider this a bit more, re-read Acts 13:33.  A quote is taken from the first psalm, but you and I know that reference to be Psalm 2:7, but now I’m just reminding the Bible study group of layers they have forgotten many psalms ago!

     Psalm 1 is known both as a wisdom psalm and as a torah psalm.  In the first case, the psalm today follows the two path choice of life.  One may choose to follow God, and receive the promised gift of blessedness; or one may choose to follow someone or something other than God, and receive the curse of not being blessed.  In the second case, the Psalm makes it clear that torah is what leads to God.  Torah is a word that does not translate readily to English, as I have probably beaten over a dead horse.  I wish the word was just adopted by the English language so we could get all the nuances implied by the terms.  Doesn’t the word mean law?  Yes, it does.  But it also means instruction and teaching and has a liberating and educating quality to it which the English word “law” lacks.  In fact, many of us tend to view laws as limiting.  Don’t speed.  Don’t cheat on your taxes.  No loud music after 10pm.  Torah has that understanding of fulfilment, of what the biblical authors call perfect freedom.  If one wants truly to be in full communion with a righteous, holy, just, loving, and all the great adjectives we know about God, one must know the torah.  This is not a cursory understanding.  In Episcopal/Anglican circles, we would say that we need to read, learn, and inwardly digest the torah to understand better and to please God more.

     The psalm also serves as an exhortation.  As we read the psalms, the two choices of life, and their consequences, are clearly and emphatically contrasted.  While the first few verses deal with what we might charitably call temporal or earthly consequences, the psalm ends with an eschatological look at the destiny of those who fear God and those who believe themselves not to need God.  The latter, of course, will be referred to as foolish and evil throughout the Psalter.  They will be encouraged to turn back to, you and I would say repent, God.  The faithful or righteous, meaning those who try to live by God’s instruction and who repent when they fall away, are cautioned to avoid the snares of the unrighteous.  Our verbs this morning show a life that is increasingly comfortable living a life that is at odds with God.  They also refer us back to the book of Deuteronomy, verses 6:7 and 11:19 in particular, reminding us in a not-so-subtle way that we should be immersing ourselves in the study and meditation, and contemplation of God and His torah!  But they also point us to the descriptive nouns of verse 1.  The Hebrew word translated as wicked, resa^cim, is a simple courtroom description.  In a particular instance or set of circumstance, this person did something wrong.  The word translated sinners, by contrast, referred to those people whose inclination was to do wrong far more often than not.  Their lives were not shaped by an isolated evil event or choice in their lives; rather they tended to live their life in rebellion against God and His instruction.  By further contrast stand the mockers, those who openly and unabashedly, well, mocked people for following God and His commands, who unabashedly tried to take advantage of others who obeyed God, believing that there was no God to judge them!  Are you getting a better flavor of the richness and depth contained in this, just the introduction to the Psalms?

      I know.  Uh oh, Brian quoted verses again.  Those who have been around me now for four years understand I am not big about doing that in sermons.  I do in Bible Study, but I try to avoid citations like that in sermons.  Sermons are meant to encourage and prod and comfort and afflict, not convict you of your ignorance or prove to you that I study the Scriptures.  The Psalter, though, like any great poetry, can articulate in a few words what writers of prose can say in paragraphs.  This is a perfect example.  Unless you are suffering from severe insomnia, how many of you have actually studied the book of Deuteronomy to understand the reference of verse 2?  See, no hands.  Part of the problem with the richness of the Psalms is that it points us to other places in Scripture, places and people we may not know, if we are not immersing ourselves in God’s torah.  See the cycle?   As we read and inwardly digest the Psalms, we are forced to study more of Scripture in order to understand better what is really being said, which means we are steeped more and more in God’s torah, which means we are steeped more and more in His love, hesed, which means we become holier and more righteous, dare I say more sanctified, as we live out what we have internalized!

     What should we have internalized?  Well, one of the good teachings of the Psalter is the fact that so many are attributed to David.  I know some folks around here have struggled with the idea that David was a man after God’s own heart.  As I have preached on occasion this summer, David did some truly horrible things.  He kills a husband to hide adultery.  He compels a faithful subject to sleep with him, betraying her husband.  He even tells God to punish the people rather than him and his family.  But, the author, or attributed author of many of these Psalms, is merely wicked.  When confronted with his sin, David always repents.  And though David wishes to avoid the consequences of some of his sins, he recognizes in the psalms that God’s judgment and discipline are not only right, but for his own good.  So, in a way, the Psalter sets an example for how you and I should live.  Those who study the Psalms learn what God demands and expects and instructs, but we also learn God’s willingness to forgive and to discipline.

     We are also taught, through the Psalter, that our outward condition in no way reflects our relationship with God.  Some translations take asre and conflate it to happiness.  Happy is the man who does not walk in the counsel of the wicked.  Let me ask y’all a question this morning.  Who here is happy all the time not walking in the counsel of the wicked?  Good, those hands should stay down.  We are not happy all the time.  Life bearing a cross for the glory of God is hard, demanding work.  Do not get me wrong, such work is wonderful and meaningful beyond measure, but it is not always happy or joyful work.  God uses suffering servants, in imitation of His Suffering Servant, to reach His flock, His people.  Though the psalmists will at times wrestle with God, argue with God, complain bitterly at God, in the end the psalmists are always moved to recognize that God will protect, will shelter, and will even redeem those terrible circumstance of life.  Unlike us, of course, the psalmist has no understanding of the Cross and Resurrection, but one can certainly see their place as we look back in history through the focusing lens of our Savior Jesus Christ!  And it is that Cross and Empty Tomb which, in the end, gives us hope and comfort and surety and confidence!

     Lastly, and perhaps most importantly, the eschatological judgment should give us all serious hope.  The psalmist begins this introduction with the claim that those who choose God and His ways are blessed.  Those of us who live in what the kids nowadays call IRL (in Real Life) are left with the same question as the mockers.  How can we or anyone claim to be blessed, if all life simply ends in death?  Put a bit differently, how many of you here today feel like God is really in control or paying attention all the time?  Cynics among us might like to argue that the dead are blessed only in the sense that they no longer suffer the vagaries of human existence.  Certainly the mockers believe there are no consequences for their rebellious decisions.  He who dies with the most toys wins!  Thankfully, and mercifully, as I have already mentioned, you and I get to read these psalms through the focus of the Cross and Empty Tomb.  We know that Christ pays the penalty for our wicked acts and makes it possible for us to receive the full measure of God’s forgiveness.  More amazingly, while the psalmist wonders how God can be honored if he or she goes down into the dust, you and I are reminded of the redeeming power of God.  Jesus is but the first fruits of those raised from the dead.  All who claim Him Lord, all who truly in their hearts seek to live as He taught are promised a share in that eternal blessedness proclaimed in this introduction.  And so, the question of death that so plagues the psalmist is no longer the big hurdle to you and to me.  We know God’s power to redeem even death!  And we know His promise to redeem all His people.  And so, while we whose hope is grounded in the death and resurrection of Christ may be said to experience a profound peace or comfort or however we want to describe our life on this side of the grave in the midst of its vagaries, are pointed to a future, an eternal future, where we experience all the blessings first mentioned by the psalmists!  In a real way, the Psalter captures the life of God’s people and even those who reject or even mock Him.  Life, as the psalmists so well know, is messy and full of grey areas.  But the consideration and study of God’s Word, both in Scripture and in the work and person of Jesus Christ, reminds us that this shadowy existence is not all that there is, that our Lord calls us to something far more permanent and far more glorious!

In Christ’s Peace,

Brian†

Focusing on divine things, in this case Marie, rather than human things . . .

     I learned later that she called herself Marie.  Before I get to Marie and a bit of her story, such as I know it, I should probably set the scene.  As most of you know, we were in Daytona Beach visiting Karen’s sister and her family.  The retirement party for Karen’s mom had been re-scheduled last year because of Irma.  And yes, Florence was off the coast barreling toward the Carolina coast.  Karen’s parents had evacuated when the island was still under a mandatory evacuation.  It was lifted after they got to their daughter’s house, but they needed to be at the retirement party Thursday night, too, so . . . Karen’s parents had brought their cats because of the potential storm surge.  So there we were.  1 fish, 2 birds, three cats, nine grandchildren, and six “adults.”  The cousins were squealing because they were finally playing together.  That noise, of course, helped the animals relax.  And the adults were paying close attention to Florence.

     The morning after the models changed and began to show Florence making a southwesterly move, perhaps a second landfall as far south as Savanah, I went out to get gas.  You all know me.  I never win the lottery or any good things.  There was an outlier path on the “spaghetti models” that showed Florence stalling just south of the Outer Banks, curving south, and coming ashore somewhere between Savanah and Jacksonville on the Georgia Coast.  I don’t win good lotteries, but I knew which model would prove the most accurate if I were not prepared.  So, to save the folks on the Georgia coast, I went out that morning to fill up my tank.  I figured if the storm headed our way, we’d be able to take off quick.

     So, as I was filling up the car, I started getting the nudge.  Y’all know me well now.  I have the discernment of a slug.  I am often grateful that Jesus was a carpenter and thinks to crack boards over my thick head from time to time to get through to me.  But this was a nudge that I have become better a recognizing.  Somewhat near the entrance to the handimart, though off to the side, was a woman who appeared homeless.  I was too far away to read her sign, but it was a sight that is all too familiar here in Nashville.  Anyway, the wrestling match began with the nudge.  It was hot and humid, as Florida is during the summer.  It was a long walk to go speak to the woman.  But, where she was was not conducive for driving over.  This was going to be a pain.  Couldn’t someone else do it?  I needed to get back to the noisy ark where we were all staying.

     Recognizing the nudge and the futility of arguing, I drove over.  After a couple dodges of various obstacles, I pulled up beside her.  Can I help you?  She just wanted money, but I told her I had no cash on me.  Plus, y’all know I’m not big on giving cash.  I try to meet the need rather than just give cash.  The only other thing she needed would be a real pain for me.  I asked what it was.  She wanted a bacon, egg, and cheese croissant and a cold, sweet iced-tea from the Dunkin Donuts there.  She apologized for being picky in her mind by showing me her lack of teeth which made chewing harder things nigh impossible.  She also showed me her hands.  They were dirty.  She did not like to pull her food apart to eat because, well, she could not wash her hands.  I told her I’d be back in a few.  Before I moved the car, she asked if she could ask a question.  I told her she could ask two, but the humor was lost on her.  Why did you do this?  I asked what she meant.  She explained that she stood a bit out of the way to keep the coins from hurting so much.  People would fling coins at her as they drove out.  When you’re too close, they hurt.  So, if I stand over here, they don’t hurt so bad, plus, I can hear them when they hit the concrete when they miss.  I told her I was not sure yet.  God intended something here.  Maybe it was just to feed her?  Maybe it was a lesson for me?  Maybe it was for someone else?  I’d just have to see.  She asked if I was a preacher man, and I told her I was.  And she laughed that I kinda had to do stuff like that, didn’t I.  I laughed with her and agreed.  I got my car out of the maze and back into the real part of the parking lot.

     I went into the Dunkin Donuts and ordered her croissant and extra-large sweet iced tea.  As I was waiting on them to finish her meal, I had the thought or nudge to get her some water.  I headed back over to the handimart, where Dasani was on sale BOGO, and got her two bottles of water.  As I was checking out, the clerk said “That’s for Marie, isn’t?”  I begged her pardon.  I saw you over there talking to her.  You know she’s there every day until she leaves, waiting on suckers like you to help her out.  Now that I knew her name, I asked the clerk about Marie’s story.  She shrugged and said she rightly did not know.  The guy standing to my right perked up and asked what we were talking about.  The clerk told him I was Marie’s newest sucker.  The guy proceeded to rant for 30-45 seconds how the damn tourists keep folks like her around.  In many ways, their attitude toward her was like that of people toward stray animals.  The locals all know she’s lazy.  There’s jobs to be had if anyone wants one.  She just stands out there asking for handouts.  The people in line with me nodded their heads and murmured their own thoughts on his statement.

     I took my opening and asked how he or they knew she was lazy, making eye contact with those who had the most conviction about Marie’s supposed laziness.  Another guy behind me answered that there were tons of jobs.  The only reason anyone doesn’t work is cause they don’t want to.  Again, more nodding and murmuring.  So I opined.  I shared that in all the years I had worked with the homeless, I had met very few lazy folks.  Many were dogged by mental illness.  Many were dealing with addiction.  Few were what I considered lazy.  Even those who could do no other jobs took pride in their work of begging.  I’d even met a few that declared and paid their taxes.  Heck, how lazy could Marie really be if she was standing there all day in this heat and humidity asking for help?  Another voice behind me asked if I was a preacher man.  I said that I was.  Another voice said that God helps those who helps themselves.  That statement brought lots of agreement.  You got the right of that!  Amen!  He sure do!  I asked if He really said that.  At first, they were all certain He did.  When I pressed for book and verse, though, no one seemed able to think of it.  I told them I was fairly certain it was either a Ben Franklin saying or an Algernon Sydney saying.

     I know.  Y’all are wondering how I know that stupid bit of trivia and still forget names so easily.  Where did I go to school?  Hampden-Sydney.  Does that last name sound familiar now?  We were steeped in a great deal of the history, philosophy, and writings of our Founding Fathers.  The mission of the college is, after all, to create Good Men and Good Citizens.  There’s a bit of a fight among historians as to who said it first, but it’s not something that is in Scripture or even expresses the mind and character of God.  But that’s a different sermon.

     They were certain it was biblical.  I told them I just needed chapter and verse.  While some were looking, one guy asked what Bible I used.  I asked why that mattered.  He said that some folks refused to use the King James version nowadays.  I told the group I have several different translations, plus the original Greek texts upon which their favorite translations were based.  I encouraged him to check his KJV online and give me the verse.  One by one, those who were googling or checking their favorite Bible App wondered if it was broken.  Amazingly to them, not so much to me, it did not appear in any of their Bibles.  One guy was incredulous and figured there was a problem with the Bible on his phone—he knew it was in print at home!

     I told him I was willing to bet he could not find that verse in his Bible at home.  The others, of course, laughed because they assumed that I could quote every verse in the Bible.  After all, I was preaching to them that midweek morning, so I clearly took the Bible seriously—I was not the typical hired hand.

     I thanked them for the intended compliment and told them they sounded to me like they took tried to take their faith seriously.  Everyone nodded assent and murmured their agreement.  So I took a chance.  I asked them if they’d ever thought about that pithy statement they were so sure existed in Scripture.  I got the predictable confused looks and statements, so I pressed ahead.  Whom does God like to help in Scripture?  Several answered widows and orphans, and a couple loudly answered His people.  I asked if any of them had ever heard their pastors about God helping those on the margins of society.  All of them nodded.  We talked a few seconds about the life of orphans and widows in the ANE.  In response to a comment from one of the His people answerers, I had to get them to see that His people are always the faithful remnant.  Except maybe when Solomon first ascended the throne, those doing God’s will in the world around them were really small in number.

     I asked if any went to churches that used the lectionary.  I ended up having to explain the lectionary, but a couple folks did.  I told them that if they went to a church using the lectionary, they would read the confession by Peter in the Gospel of Mark that Jesus is the Messiah.  Those that disagreed with the use of a lectionary thought it was a good reading.  I asked how Peter responds to Jesus’ instruction about suffering and death and the Resurrection, and the whole handimart congregation knew the “Get behind me Satan!” rebuke.  So I asked what followed.  To their credit, there were a couple men and women who knew the rest of today’s reading, even though they did not go to lectionary churches.  But it provided the local flavor to enter into a serious discussion about “divine things.”

     What does it mean to lose one’s life for the sake of the Gospel?  What does it mean to be ashamed of Jesus’ teaching?  Does Jesus really expect us to hold others, particularly those down on their luck like Marie, to the standard of “God helps those who help themselves.”?  In fact, how does God often help folks on the margins?  That’s right!  Through the Church, His other sons and other daughters—put more directly, through you and me!  You all, of course, know the answers to those questions.  Some of us have been struggling with those questions.  There are some of us who are worried about this immigrant and refugee focus that other members seem to have.  There are some of us who are uncomfortable with hungry folks coming by church to get food.  Me being the jerk pastor/good pastor (take your pick) that I am, ask you to wrestle with those questions.  Is it possible that we are mis-discerning a corporate ministry?  Absolutely.  Do I think God is happier with us mis-discerning by feeding or teaching or ministering to those on the margins of our society than He is with those who refuse to help lazy beggars?  Yes!  One group is expressing a circumcised heart; the other is still hard-hearted.  My guess is that we will figure out His will for us in this community rather quickly, so long as those hearts seek Him.  Time, and the Holy Spirit, will tell.

     But what of those of us who like to treat the other as other?  How are we honoring and glorifying God?  It’s easy to see us dishonoring God when we chuck coins at a homeless person, when we disparage their work ethic when we really do not know them, when we think ourselves able to sit in judgment about another person made in the similar image of God.  We claim to serve a God who made all things.  How quickly are we, though, to think there is a limit to our resources?  Our time?  Our energy?  Our compassion?  And when we live, as a body or as individuals, who feels limited, what is our testimony about the God we serve?

     Much like I suspect many of us today, judging by the holy silence, those questions resonated in that handimart.  Those folks weren’t evil, at least in the sense that we like to think.  They were normal, hard-working American Protestants.  They had simply forgotten the distinction between divine things and human things.  They had forgotten that our Lord Christ died on that Cross so that all, they and we and Marie and others, could come within the reach of God’s saving embrace.  You might say, like some of us, they had forgotten the basics and needed a refresher course.  Clearly, tourists were preaching the message.  They simply had ears and could not hear.  Thankfully, and mercifully, God used an itinerant preacher, a lectionary, and a homeless woman named Marie, not accidentally I think, to rebirth understanding of His will in all our lives.

     Our conversation ran its natural course.  Some were worried they had really screwed up in their attitudes.   I reminded them that all God demands is repentance and an effort to try and do better—that is one of the blessings of the Gospel, after all. A couple wanted to speak with their pastors and try and figure out if what I was saying was really true.  I get it.  They did not know me and wanted to talk to a pastor they trusted.  My friend who thinks Jesus spoke in King James English was still arguing with his stupid phone and with me that the “God helps those who helps themselves” statement had to be in Proverbs or Ecclesiastes or one of those books we don’t read too much.  I figured I had food ready and cold by now, and I worried that Marie figured I had set her up by promising food and not delivering—probably worse than flinging coins at her.  So I went back to DD to get her food and headed out.

     I made my way back over to Marie.  I handed her the croissant and gigantic ice tea and the bag with water.  She squealed in pleasure at the sugar in the Dunkin Donuts bag and at the extra water.  I told her it was BOGO.  If she wanted to use the water to wash, wash.  If she wanted to save it to drink, save it to drink.  It was hers to do with as she pleased.  She thanked me and asked if they were really busy in there.  I laughed and told her I was not sure—I had no standard of comparison.  She chewed that over a second and then commented that she noticed people going in the handimart, but nobody really coming out.  I confessed it was my fault, but a bit of the Holy Spirit’s, too, I thought.  She asked why.

     I told her that I had been warned off against helping her in the beginning.  She nodded that did not surprise her.  I told her it was then I figured out why I was helping her.  She asked what I meant by that.  I shared that I had had the opportunity to refocus a number of Christians on the things of God, like her.  She snorted at the idea that she was a thing of God.  I smiled and agreed.  She was not a thing of God, but possibly a daughter.  She snorted again.  And the light-heartedness left my voice and face.  I reminded her again that God loved her dearly, that He had created her in His image.  I was sorry for what she had suffered in this life.  I wished I could do more than get her a croissant and couple cold drinks.  But I had helped her because I felt His nudge or push as I was pumping gas.  I was pretty sure, I told her, that God was doing several things with that nudge.  He was giving me an opportunity to speak to my congregation about this week’s Gospel reading in a powerful way, were I obedient.  He was giving me an opportunity to do some serious preaching to a group of people claiming to be Christian but blind to suffering in their midst.  And He was reminding her that He loved her and knew her suffering in ways none of us around here ever would.  And that was just for starters.  Who knew what else He was about this hot, muggy morning!

     You really believe all that?  I told her I did.  She dearly hoped I was right.  I told her I knew God loved her dearly and I hoped she never forgot it.  I know it’s tough when folks fling words that hurt way more than coins, especially those who claim to be Christians, I understood that, but I knew He understood it even better than I ever could.

     There was a holy silence for some time.  It was probably 30-40 seconds, but it seemed far longer as she mulled my words and remembered what she had been taught about God and what she had experienced.  Then she smiled a glorious smile with broken and missing teeth and I heard real humor in her voice for the first time, not the self-deprecating that had been there up until this point.  You know.  You got a fair number of people to stop and listen to your sermon on their way to work.  That’s a pretty good miracle in these parts.  People are usually in too big a hurry to stop for anything.  It’s always rush, rush, rush!   Maybe God was at work today in ways we can’t see.

     Sensing our interaction nearing an end, I asked if there was anything else she needed.  She said I had helped enough.  I asked again.  She said 75 cents would be great.  I asked why just 75 cents?  She said she almost had enough money to ride the bus.  I questioned her with the words, “Air conditioning?”  She got excited and then dropped her eyes and then said I must work with homeless a lot.  I did, and I had lots of friends who did.  Her eyes said everything.  I dug around in our ash tray for the coins.  Me, who seldom gives out cash, gladly gave her from our stash of nickels and dimes and a quarter.  She thanked me, asked me the time, and then asked if I’d be mad if she waited to eat until she got on the bus.  I told her the food and drinks were hers to enjoy as she saw fit.  She said she wanted to enjoy her feast in the air conditioning and then maybe grab a nap until they kicked her off the bus.

     Some of you may have missed the significance of her excitement and then sadness and this ending.  Sometimes, the only relief that those who are homeless get from the elements are from bus rides on city busses.  The thoughts of hotel rooms are so far above their expectations that the best they can hope for are breaks on city buses.  In northern climates, heated busses are a relief from the bitter cold.  In places like Florida, the only respite from the heat and humidity are air conditioned busses.  Busses for homeless women also serve as a kind of protection against sexual assault and rape.  Society, more often than not, does not want homeless folk sleeping or hanging out in places we like to frequent.  That means they are forced into the shadows.  Guess what happens in the shadows, out of sight and too far from the sound of shouting voices to homeless women and children.  For Marie, the busses of Daytona Beach are a sanctuary, a respite from not just the heat and humidity, but from those who prey on women who are homeless.  By moving before God cracked me over the head with a 2 X 4, by engaging with the cashier and folks in the handimart, and by listening to Marie, what did we Adventers learn, we who live 9 hours to the north and west?

     Marie collects coins to ride the bus.  Only on the bus does she get a break from the heat and humidity.  More importantly, it’s only on the bus that she can let her guard down a bit.  Of course, standing before you this day in this pulpit, I wonder how much she can really let that guard down.  Folks in that handimart were sure she was lazy, that she could get a job if she wanted.  I wonder how she can ever break that cycle?  How can she get clean?  How can she get clothes?  Heck, how can she ever get a smile that will allow her to interview successfully for a “good” job?  Even more successfully, given her modest desires and obvious experiences, what damage has been done to her by her fellow human beings?  How many times has she been raped?  How many times has she been assaulted?  How many times has she been bruised or stung by folks flinging the very coins she needs to find respite?  Worst of all, what have their judgmental words done to her?  How many times have people demanded she be kicked off the bus?  How many times have people commented loudly how much she smelled?  How many folks have poked fun at her smile?  How many have done so smugly claiming to be sons and daughters of God?

     Brothers and sisters, there are lots of Marie’s and men like Marie in our community.  In fact, I know another lady named Marie that Donna and Ranger Steve, in particular, tried to help here in our community.  The “divine things” of God is how we do trying to minister to them.  The losing our life for His sake and the sake of the Gospel is how we minister to the Marie’s of our community in His name!  I know.  We are aging; we are shrinking; we have tons of worldly excuses for avoiding His call, His demands, upon our lives.  Standing against all those excuses, though, is His promise.  In dying to self, He promises abundant life; in our embrace of the Cross, He promises life beyond measure.  And in serving the Marie’s of the world He reminds us that we have served Him in ways far better than we will ever understand or appreciate on this side of the grave.  Every now and then, though, He tears that shroud for our sakes.  Every now and then, brothers and sisters, He gives us glorious insight into His redeeming work in the world around us.

     It would be easy to stand before you this morning and mock the hard-hearted churches of NE Florida this morning, churches that, as this story was told this morning, each of us no doubt thought should be doing better.  It would be easy to give each of you and “atta boy” or “atta girl” for your thankful gifts to the discretionary account y’all make possible.  After all, each of you who supports the church or gives thankfully to the Discretionary Fund has a share in that ministry to Marie.  As stupid as it sounds in your ears, I did not have the $11-12 to help her myself.  Heck, were it not for the stupid change in my ash tray, I would not have had the 75 cents to finish off the bus ride.  So you each had a hand in that ministry.  It would even be easy to point to the miracle that Marie noticed—that people rushing to work took time to wrestle with God in a handimart of all places.

     But in those efforts to focus, we would have lost the bigger picture, the bigger miracle.  How big is our God?  So big that He can use the change in your pastor’s ash tray and a couple pennies from each of you to provide meaningful relief to a marginalized daughter; so big that He can use a willful, slug-like discerning and vacationing priest like me to stop traffic in a handimart and force them to begin to re-focus on divine things in their community;  so big that this encounter, which happened 9 hours to the southeast of here, might actually teach us about our attitudes and about those whom we see in street corners or in our parish hall or in public spaces we wish we did not, and so big that He can use our embrace of His Cross to give us all glimpses of that Resurrected life to which He call all of humanity!  And, knowing it would not be Gospel were it not even better than we think, He gives you and me and all our brothers and sisters in the Church the privilege and responsibility of inviting all those we encounter, being those who look and sound like us or those who look like Marie or the folks on the corners in Nashville looking for help or the stranger in our favorite department store or even the staff that serves us food when we eat out.  It is so easy to fall into the siren song of the world, to focus on the world and events and people in our lives with our mind focused on human things.  Our Lord Christ, though, calls us to engage the world steeped in the wisdom and love and mercy of God.  When we do that, my brothers and sisters, when we truly engage others, consciously aware that they were gloriously fashioned as were we, that is when you and I begin to experience the barest glimpses of the eternal promises He offers.  Perhaps even more significantly than that, though, others get to see Him, our Savior and our Redeemer, alive and working through us!

In Christ’s Peace,

Brian†