“Remember Your Baptism, Remember Your Identity” Joshua 3: 7 – 17

            “Water, water everywhere” is a familiar line from  “The Rime of the Ancient Mariner.”  I wonder how many of you have been thinking “water, water, everywhere” this morning.   You entered the sanctuary and saw the baptismal font front and center. You heard water phrases—waters of our baptisms, sprinkled clean, washed pure.  You watched and listened as the children and I talked about water, touched the water in the pitcher and poured water into the font.  The scriptures today—both the Call to Worship and the text Ken just read, evoke water images—springs of water, pools of water, the Jordan River overflowing its banks, a heap of water.  “Water, water, everywhere”

            Water is everywhere—life-giving, cleansing, saving water.  Water covers over 70% of the earth and makes up 60% of the human body.  Water is everywhere—life-giving, cleansing, saving water is recorded throughout the Bible.  In the 1^st creation account in Genesis—in the beginning, God’s spirit moves over the face of the waters creating all that there is.  Later in Genesis God cleanses creation of human wickedness in the flood waters that cover the earth, the flood waters that Noah and his family ride out in safety in the ark accompanied by a pair of each species of animals.  In the exodus, God parts the waters of the Red Sea long enough for the Hebrews to cross over safely before allowing those same waters to drown the Egyptian army.  In the gospel accounts, John the Baptist, the voice in the wilderness, calls people to repent and be baptized—with water.  Water, water everywhere—life-giving, cleansing, saving water.

            Appearing in the biblical record, water is often connected with identity.  It is when they pass through the parted waters of the Red Sea that the fleeing Hebrews become free.  Their identity changes—from Pharaoh’s slaves to God’s treasured people.  It is here, in today’s text when they pass through the parted waters of the Jordan River, that they claim their identity as Abraham’s heirs.  Crossing the Jordan, they finally arrive in and lay claim to the land God promised Abraham a thousand years before.

            And a thousand years after the events of today’s text, a thousand years after the Israelites cross the Jordan, John the Baptist baptizes Jesus in this very river.  As Jesus emerges from the waters of the Jordan River, the Holy Spirit descends on him and a voice from heaven claims he is “God’s son, the beloved, with whom God is well-pleased” (Matthew 3: 17   Mark 1:11, Luke 3:22)   According to the gospel accounts, it is in the waters of his baptism, that Jesus is identified as the Messiah, as the Christ.

            It is in the waters of our baptism that we receive our identity—God’s beloved child,

adopted into the family of God, made heirs to God’s covenant promises through Christ, our savior, and our brother.

            We call baptism a sacrament.  It is one of the 2 sacraments we Presbyterians celebrate—the other being The Lord’s Supper.  A sacrament is a visible sign of an invisible grace conferred by God.  That means, in the sacraments, God is the one who acts; God is the one who does something.  We are the recipients; we don’t do anything but accept God’s grace.  In baptism, water is the visible sign.  Through the power of the Holy Spirit, we experience the baptismal water as life-giving, cleansing, and saving.  Dying to our old life, we rise from the waters of our baptism as a new creation—ready to live a new life.  The invisible grace in the sacrament of baptism is God’s claim on us—You are my beloved child, and I am your loving parent God.

            We Presbyterians celebrate the sacraments not privately, but corporately.  So, this identity that we receive in our baptism, is a communal identity as well as an individual identity.  We are baptized into the family of God.  When a child is baptized, we—the members of the church—promise to love, nurture, and guide that child in our faith.  It takes a family—the church family—to raise a child in the faith.  When an adult is baptized, we—the members of the church—promise to love, nurture, and guide that adult in our faith.  It takes a family—the church family—to welcome an adult into the faith.  Sometimes, like the prodigal son, we might lose our way.  One of us might forget who she is.  One of us might forget where he came from.  But since our baptism is a communal identity as well as an individual identity, the church, the family of God, will not forget who this lost one is.  The church, the family of God, will not forget where he came from.  We, the church will always hold a place for her in this family.

            We, the church universal—the catholic with a little c church, have a creed we have been saying for almost 2000 years.  This creed was first used to teach the faith to those who wanted to become followers of Christ.  As the church endured persecution and faced divisions, the creed evolved. We, the church universal, the church in all places and all times—have a creed we say at baptismal rites—the Apostles’ Creed.  It states what we believe about God—God the Father, God the Son and God the Holy Spirit.  We say it together because at baptism, we receive both an individual and a communal identity.

            Connected to believers in all times—from the apostles who witnessed the birth of the church at Pentecost to those who will express our faith in the future—connected to believers in all times and places, we belong to the communion of saints. Saying the Apostles’ Creed when we celebrate baptism, we remember our communal identity and our individual identity.

            Water, water, everywhere—life-giving, cleansing, saving water.  Baptismal water seals our identity.  We are beloved children of God, adopted into the family of God, heirs of God’s covenant promises through Christ, our savior, and our brother.  Baptismal water marks us with God’s permanent claim.  We belong to God.   Thanks be to God! 

update Aug - Oct 2011

I returned to Paola just in time to welcome both Mary (from Indiana) and Sarah (from Austin) to visit and attend my ordination and installation service.  My home pastor, Rev. Nancy Reeves (from Grace Presbyterian Church in Round Rock) preached.  Rev. Don Wilson, a mentor in Kevin’s group of Company of New Pastors, gave the charge to me, and Rev. Clare Lozano, one of my seminary friends, participated in the service as well. 

We have been living in Paola 10 weeks now.  It was hot—almost, but not quite as hot as Austin when we moved in August 12.  We had just enough time to get unpacked and set up before it was time for me to travel to Louisville for the first meeting of the Class of 2011 For Such a Time as This. [http://www.pcusa.org/news/2011/7/29/ten-candidates-ministry-receive-first-calls-second/]  I met some wonderful people called to churches in Florida, Georgia, South Carolina, West Virginia, and North Carolina and some equally wonderful mentors from those same states.  The support staff for this program—through the PCUSA national office is phenomenal.  Such a reaffirmation that I’m in the right program!

Then, I officially began my ministry as pastor to First Presbyterian Church Paola  http://www.presbyterianchurchpaola.org/.  The congregation has been warm and welcoming, inviting their friends to worship and encouraging me with positive feedback on the sermons and worship, enjoying my visits, and attending the mid-week lectionary Bible study I am leading.  The pastor of the Methodist church here, Rev. Jim Hopwood, has been particularly helpful in inviting me into the local ministerial/mission association and sharing contact information for helping those who call or come into the church office who are in need.
http://www.facebook.com/fpcpaola

I spend too much time at the church—according to some of my parishioners who want me to be physically, emotionally, intellectually, and spiritually healthy.  But I’m enjoying what I’m doing!  I read to our (weekday) preschool classes and was invited on 2 of their field trips.  If I had not been out of town for meetings, I would have gone!  Maybe to the tree farm in December . . .

I am part of the Synod of Mid-America’s Gathering for Pastoral Sustenance group and attended the first of four retreats at the end of September.  Taking spiritual care of ourselves was the theme, and Marjorie Thompson, the author of Soul Feast was our keynote speaker.  Games to get to know one another, reflection time, worship, and just jawing with one another were also on the agenda.

The weather has been delightful and the trees have been gorgeous.  Although we drove to Mound City, KS one day to see the fall colors, we decided the colors in Paola are the best!

Last weekend, my brother and sister-in-law brought my mom here to celebrate together her 80^th birthday.  What a wonderful family I have!

Love to all of my friends—especially those who don’t live in Kansas or Missouri—because I haven’t seen you in awhile.

Mari Lyn

Do Love--Matthew 22: 34 - 40

           In last Sunday’s scripture, the religious leaders were competing with Jesus—trying to diminish his authority with the crowds in the temple courtyard.  They are still at it in today’s text.  It’s as if they see themselves in sort of World Series—the Temple series for authority.  The Sadducees, Pharisees, and scribes have been pitching questions to Jesus as if trying to throw curve balls, knuckle balls, and fast balls.  But Jesus connects with each pitch, knocking it out of the park with his answers.  In today’s text the Pharisees are throwing their last pitch—testing Jesus with “Which commandment in the law is the greatest?”  They are referring to the 613 specific rules that expand upon the Torah—the law handed down by Moses on Mt. Sinai.  They are sure that in any answer he gives, Jesus risks pleasing some of his listeners at the expense of alienating others.[1]  So, the Pharisees think, surely this time he’ll strike out.  Surely this question will undermine his authority with the crowds.

            And how does Jesus respond?  Instead of naming any one of the specific rules, he responds with one of the most well-known scriptures from the Jewish Bible.  He responds using the Shema, recited daily by all pious Jews, the Shema—with which Jews began their worship services in the synagogues.  The Shema—recorded in Deuteronomy chapter 6: verses 4 - 5  

“4 Hear, O Israel: The Lord is our God, the Lord alone. 5 You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your might.”

            In other words, “Love God with all your being.” I wonder—what is it to love God with all of my being?  Some Christian contemplatives throughout the ages have likened it to “falling in love.”  Most of us here, at some point in our lives, have fallen in love.  What is that like? What happens when you fall in love?

            When you fall in love with someone, you want to be with that person. 

You want to spend time with them— to be in their presence.  In what ways can we attend to God’s presence?  For me, it’s intentionally setting aside time—time away from work, time away from chores, and when I was in school, time away from study.  For me, it’s intentionally setting aside time to be quiet or still—preferably outdoors in God’s creation.  And, for me, it’s setting aside time for worship.  I am as intentional about attending to God’s presence in our corporate worship as I am in attending to God’s presence in my alone time.  Attending to God’s presence is part of loving God with our whole being.  Attending to God’s presence—What is that like for you? 

            When you fall in love with someone, you want to get to know them—to know all about them.  Soon after we met, Kevin got a job 300 miles away.  This was in the olden days, before email and cell phones with free long distance.  So he wrote me—letters—sharing his interests, his dreams, and his childhood stories.  It was through his written word, that I came to know and deeply love Kevin.  It is through written word that we can come to know and deeply love God.  While we can certainly get to know some things about God through his wonderful creation,

God is revealed to us most completely through the birth, life, death, and resurrection of God’s son, Jesus the Christ.  And we come to know Jesus most thoroughly through the written word of God—the Bible. One noted religious author calls the Bible God’s love letters to us. It is in Bible study—both in private, daily devotional reading and in group study and reflection that we come to know this God whom we are invited to love with all our being.

            When you fall in love with someone, you want to talk with them. I spent the summer of 2010 in Houston, completing a chaplaincy internship.  Although I returned home to Austin each weekend, Kevin and I talked on the phone every weeknight.  Our telephone conversations were balanced.  He talked, and I listened.  I talked, and he listened.  We shared.  Hmmm my prayers to God could be like those nightly phone conversations.  But when I compare the two, I realize my prayers are often one-sided and single-purposed.  How many times do I find myself coming to God with a list of requests—God, please do this and this and this—and thank you, Amen.  Does this kind of conversation reflect loving God with my whole being?  Perhaps in my prayers—my conversations with God—I need give and take—talk and listen.  What are your conversations with God like?

            When you fall in love with someone, you spend time with their friends and family because if this falling in love proceeds to a long-term commitment, you’re going to be hanging out with these people regularly.  It was Joan—one of Kevin’s closest college friends—who became my best friend when our children were young.  It was Joan who heard and shared my fears of how to be SuperMom, SuperWife, and SuperTeacher all at once.  It was Joan who had my back when the demands of one of these roles overtook the others.  Loving God with our whole being means spending time with God’s good buddies—God’s friends and family.  Spending time in worship—being in God’s presence together; spending time in study—getting to know God together; spending time in fellowship—making the connections with each other that are facilitated by our common relationship with God; spending time in service—together caring for those of God’s family who are in need.  Loving God with all our being leads us into loving relationships with other people!

            Which brings us to the 2^nd great commandment—love your neighbor as you love yourself.  This, too, was a familiar Jewish scripture, a summary offered in

Leviticus after injunctions against lying, stealing, treating workers harshly, and acting out of vengeance and hate.  Loving neighbor as self was a familiar Jewish scripture, a summary offered in Leviticus after prescriptions to be just and fair, to provide for the welfare of the poor, and to be sensitive to the differently-abled.  Loving neighbor as self was a familiar Jewish principle, and in his Sermon on the Mount earlier in his ministry, Jesus had expanded the definition of neighbor to include all others. 

            When I asked our children today, “How do you know your parents love you, they were able to answer readily. They have experienced your love. They have heard it and seen it. I, too, have seen you loving others—accompanying each other on doctor visits, visiting friends who can’t get out and about.  I have seen you loving others. I have heard the tenderness in your voices, noted the joy on your faces, and watched your hugs as you visit residents in Northpoint and Medicalodge.  I have seen you loving others.  I have seen the dedication of sorting and distributing clothes through the Thrift Shop.  I have seen you loving of others as each week you offer groceries from your shopping list to feed hungry people in Paola.  Loving others is action. I have seen your loving others in action.

            Jesus is asked which is the greatest commandment —singular—which one.  But he responds with two—the 2^nd following so closely from his lips it is inseparable from the first.  We cannot love God with our whole being without also loving others as ourselves. 

            Jesus is asked which is the greatest commandment –the most important rule to follow, but he responds with a principle for living, a “principle that [applies to ]  . . . every aspect of religious and communal life.[2]” Love is the lens through which the Pharisees (and Jesus’ other listeners) should interpret and apply the law.  Love is the framework which we live our lives within. Love is the foundation for living. 

            Jesus is asked, “Which is the first and greatest commandment?”  He responds “Love God with all your being.”  In so doing we begin to love as God loves—indiscriminately. Love God with all your being.  In so doing we begin to love who God loves—everyone.  So the 2^nd great commandment follows—love others as you love yourself.  It’s as if Jesus is sketching a self-portrait—love God <move arms vertically> and love others <move arms horizontally>.  It’s as if Jesus is drawing a blueprint for our lives.  Which is the first and greatest commandment?   Do love!

---

[1] R. T. France, New International Commentary on the New Testament:  The Gospel of Matthew. 

Grand Rapids:  William B. Eerdmans Publishing Company, 842.

[2] R. T. France, New International Commentary on the New Testament:  The Gospel of Matthew.  Grand Rapids:  William B. Eerdmans Publishing Company, 843

Matthew 22: 15 - 22 Stewardship

            Over the years, I’ve watched many a TV courtroom drama.  Perry Mason, Matlock, Law and Order.  The familiar scene opens.  Sitting on the witness stand, a young woman is considering the question put to her by the opposing lawyer.  She begins to tell the story leading up to the event in question.  The lawyer interrupts her.  I asked you a simple question. Just answer —“yes” or “no.”  She pauses, frowns, and begins again— trying to summarize the background for her testimony.  The lawyer interrupts again.  Just answer the question—“yes” or “no.”  She struggles. For her the question does not have a simple “yes” or “no” answer.  The Lawyer insists “yes” or “no.”   “No” she pleads.  The camera pans to the jury whose faces reflect the lawyer’s victory.  Just answer the question—“yes” or “no!”  It makes for stirring TV courtroom drama.  Just answer the question—“yes” or “no!”  It makes for stirring drama in today’s scripture as well.

            In the days since his triumphal entry into Jerusalem, Jesus has been needling the Pharisees and the temple priests.  He has told 3 parables that indict the way they respond to God’s covenant in both their personal lives and in their religious leadership. 

They have had it with him.  So, today, while he is teaching in the temple—on their turf, they decide to lay a trap for him.  They will ask him a simple yes or no question.  If he answers “yes,” he will disappoint or possibly enrage the crowds who have gathered around him.  If he answers “no,” he may be charged with sedition.  “Jesus, is it lawful to pay the toll tax to the emperor?”  Just answer the question, Jesus,  “yes” or “no.”  Yes, and the Jewish crowd, chafing under Roman dominion, will no longer see Jesus as their long-awaited political Messiah.  No, and the occupying Romans will indict him for treason—a capital offense—punishable by death on a cross.

            Unlike the courtroom witness in my TV example, Jesus answers neither “yes” nor “not.  He foils their attempt to trap him. Instead he responds, “Give me the coin used to pay the toll tax.”  The tax which provides for the Pax Romana (Roman Peace)—good roads, safe travel, and healthy commerce.  “Show me the coin used to pay the tax,” he says.  One of his questioners takes the coin from his pocket.  Holding it up, Jesus asks “Whose image and whose inscription is on this coin?”  They reply, “Caesar’s of course.”  Well then, give back to Caesar what belongs to Caesar and to God what belongs to God.

            In this exchange Jesus conveys it is possible to be subject to Caesar as ruler and at the same time to honor God as God. The conquered Jews can pay the toll tax and still worship the God whose law and covenant Jesus came to fulfill.  This is the message Jesus intends for his audience there in the temple courtyard. 

            What is the message the gospel writer, Matthew intends for his audience—Jewish and Gentile Christians living in the aftermath of a failed and brutally put down Jewish revolt against Rome?  Matthew assures his audience, “Without giving up your allegiance to Christ, you Christians can  live in this world that is dominated by the Roman empire.

            What about us, today?  The question posed to Jesus—is it lawful to pay the tax? Seems irrelevant.  We’ve been paying taxes since before the birth of our country. So, is there a message for us—21^st century American Christians—in today’s text?  I think so.  While the question Jesus was asked may not be relevant to us, his answer is relevant. Whose image does this bear and whose inscription is on it?  Then give back to him what belongs to him. 

            The coin Jesus held up bore Caesar’s image.  What bears God’s image?  We do!  We are created in the image of God—endowed with creativity and relationality. We bear God’s image.  And what belongs to God?  We do!  We belong to God.  In the Assurance of Pardon today, we heard, “I will be your God and you will be my people.”  We belong to God—body, heart, mind, and soul.

            Whose inscription is on this? Jesus asked.  It was Caesar’s inscription on the coin.  Where is God’s inscription? In today’s Assurance of Pardon, we are reminded how God promised to write God’s covenant, to inscribe it, on our hearts. Where is God’s inscription?  On our hearts.  On us.  Where else is God’s imprint?  Over all creation.  For according to Genesis, God created all that there is—the heavenly bodies—planets, stars, and meteors; the earth—water, rock, soil, and minerals; and all living things—plants and animals.  What bears God’s imprint?  All of creation. 

            Give back to God the things that belong to God—the things which bear God’s image and the things which bear God’s engraving.  Give back to God ourselves—our bodies, our hearts, our minds, our souls, our gifts, our time, our energy, our resources, our lives.  Give back to God, all the things of Gods’ creation.

            Uh oh—when I got to this part in writing the sermon, I said—this sounds like stewardship.  And I wasn’t going to preach on stewardship.  Well, it is stewardship. Biblically, stewardship refers to the dispensation of time, talents, possession, and self. 

Giving back to God what belongs to God is living a life of good stewardship—stewardship of all things.

            How do we go about giving back to God what belongs to God?  My daughter, Mary, has found herself drawn to studying the environment, recognizing how we humans have damaged this earth and learning how we can care for it as God commanded the first humans to care for it.  With funding from the town, she coordinated volunteers to prepare the first community gardens of Richmond, Indiana.  She recruited elementary and middle school students to tend those gardens.  Not only have they learned gardening skills, they have also developed an appreciation for the food they eat.  They have experienced the time and effort it takes to plant, cultivate, and harvest.  Produce from the gardens stock the local food pantry, and families of these student gardeners are beginning to grow their own vegetables in their own gardens.  In so doing, they are reducing their carbon footprint—They are being good stewards of God’s creation.  

            How do we go about giving back to God what belongs to God?  A friend of mine heard about boy who had no a positive male role model in his life.  So, my friend began spending time with the boy—playing ball with him.  Over the years my friend has developed a deep and lasting relationship with this now young man—encouraging him in school, in relationships, in work, and in play.  My friend gives back to God—He’s a good steward of relationships.

            How do we go about giving back to God what belongs to God? I have another friend, practicing family law in Austin.  He works with many families in the throes of divorce.  He helps his clients focus on their children while navigating the dangerous waters of resentment and blame.  He helps his clients reach agreements that nurture the physical, mental, intellectual, and spiritual health of their precious, impressionable children.  My friend practices good stewardship of his talents—He gives back to God in his vocation.

            How do we go about giving back to God what belongs to God? Just last spring, you gave back to God—financially.  You paid off a $1 million dollar building debt, so that this congregation could look beyond its mortgage.  You paid off a $1 million building debt, so that this congregation could focus its time, energy, and resources on the mission and ministry God calls this church to engage in now and in the future.  You practiced good stewardship of your money.

            Jesus said, “Give back to God the things that belong to God.” We belong to God—body, heart, mind, and soul.  So, we give back, physically, emotionally, intellectually, and spiritually.  Give back to God, the things that are God’s.  In worship, study, and fellowship we prepare ourselves to be good stewards of all that God is giving us.  In worship and study, we develop the faith and understanding to discern how God calls us to live and serve.  In fellowship we develop relationships that will sustain our serving together.  Together, we look to and listen for God’s guidance into the future that God has planned for this particular church.  Together we step out courageously. 

            Jesus said, give back to God the things that are God’s.  It is not a gotcha or something else on your list of things to do “to get to heaven.”  This is an invitation to abundant life. 

For, in giving back to God the things that are God’s, we experience God’s bounty in relationships, in satisfying vocation, and in re-directed priorities.  In giving back to God the things that are God’s our perception—our reality—is transformed.  We no longer view life through the lens of scarcity.  Instead we see life through the spectacles of abundance.  In giving back to God, we live into the image of God imprinted on each of one of us—an image of creativity and relationality.

            God gives from an overflowing well of love and from an ever-flowing stream of grace.  How will you respond to Jesus’ invitation to abundant life?  How will you continue to give back to God the things that are God’s?

Using the words from the Brief Statement of Faith printed in the bulletin, please stand and join me in saying what we believe: In life and in death we belong to God . . . With believers in every time and place, we rejoice that nothing in life or in death can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.

Matthew 22: 1 - 14 Wearing the garment of transformed Life

            One of my best experiences in high school was participating in the Honor Concert Band.  Some of my classmates were talented musicians; they could play by ear as well as by sight.  When they played their instruments, the music came alive.  They had a gift.  They recognized it, honed it, and shared it.  Music—from within their beings—poured out, shaping their lives and enhancing the lives of people in our band, school and community.

            I did not seem to have that gift for music.  But I took lessons, practiced diligently, studied the selections we played, and listened for how my part fit into the overall piece.  Through practice and study, I found myself in the Honor Concert Band where music—from outside of me, began to insinuate itself into my thoughts, my feelings, my time, and my preferences.  I was transformed from a music listener into a music lover.

            Transformation—a new way of perceiving life, a new way of living life, a new life—transformation—that’s the response God desires from us when we experience Christ’s grace.  What?  Grace is not just a gift, given so that we have assurance of God’s love and continued presence?  What?  There’s an appropriate response to grace?  The gospel writer, Matthew certainly thinks so.  We hear it in today’s scripture.

            As Jesus tells it here, this parable is outrageous, for no one would miss a wedding banquet.  No one would say “no” to a full stomach.  No one subjugated to Roman rule would say “no” to having some fun.  No one whose days were filled with labor, would say “no” to the rest a feast offered. No one would miss a wedding banquet—especially not if the king were host.  Think about it, if Governor Brownback invited you to a weeklong celebration with the finest food, drink and music, would you refuse? [some congregational responses of “yes.”  So I said, All right if Oprah Winfrey invited you to Australia for 8 days of food, drink, and music would you refuse?  And one person said loudly.  Yes!]  The parable, as Jesus tells it, is outrageous.  And it grabs his listeners’ attention. 

            Having found the original guests unworthy—they refused to come—the king now extends his invitation to others—anyone and everyone his servants can find in the streets—the homeless, the runaway, the beggar, the resident alien, the migrant farm-worker, the minimum-wage earner.  Anyone and everyone are now invited. 

            The wedding hall is noisy with laughter and music.  People are having a delightful time enjoying the unexpected grace of the king.  Then the king sees someone dressed inappropriately.  But this is preposterous!  Wedding garments for the guests would be hanging right there in the entryway.  Who would fail to clean up and don the appropriate (and handy) attire?  The king orders this guest to be bound and thrown into the outer darkness “where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.”  This parable, as Jesus tells it, grabs his listeners’ and our attention.

            Listening past the outrageousness, the Pharisees and chief priests—Jesus’ audience—hear him condemning them.  For God is choosing to extend his covenant outside of the Jewish people.  God is choosing to invite anyone—without regard to Jewish pedigree or impeccable law-abiding resume.  God is choosing to invite anyone into God’s covenant—saying, “You will be my people and I will be your God.  How preposterous!  How outrageous!  Jesus indicts the chosen leaders of God’s chosen people and affirms that God will judge their unfaithfulness. He suggests that God will judge them because they are hindering others from experiencing God’s love.

            In the same way, Matthew is warning the leaders of his Christian community—

Matthew’s audience—not to take God’s grace for granted.  Just as Jesus condemned the chief priests and Pharisees for their casual, indifferent response to God’s invitation of fulfilled covenant in Jesus—Just as Jesus condemned the Jewish religious leaders, so too will he judge the leaders of Matthew’s Christian community.  If they just accept the invitation but do not take care how they present themselves at Christ’s banquet table, Jesus will judge them unfit and unfaithful.

            And the grounds for this judgment—the missing wedding garment—what exactly is that?  For Matthew, it is discipleship.  Discipleship is a theme flowing through his gospel. In the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus teaches his followers how to be disciples.  In the Judgment of the Nations—the Son of Man separates the sheep from the goats.  Those who have lived their lives as Christ taught are the sheep—destined to inherit the kingdom with the Son of Man.  Not because of what they believed, but because of how they lived—showing compassion for others.  In Jesus’ final words in Matthew’s gospel, he tells his apostles to make disciples—baptizing them and teaching them to obey everything he has commanded.  Discipleship is a constant theme flowing through Matthew’s gospel.  In today’s parable, the appropriate dress at the banquet is the garment of discipleship—obedience to Christ.           

            For Matthew, the wedding invitation is God’s generous call to covenant living.  It’s an invitation not just to feast at the banquet with Christ when he comes again—when the Kingdom of Heaven is finally, fully realized on earth. Instead it’s an invitation to live for Christ here and now, to be a part of the in-breaking of the kingdom of heaven in bits and pieces here and now.  For Matthew, there is a proper response to the banquet invitation—not just coming to the table, but coming to the table clothed in Christ’s righteousness.  For Matthew, there is a proper response to Christ’s grace.  <pause>  It’s discipleship—obedience to Christ—living a transformed life.

            When I was growing up, my parents, concerned for my safety taught me to beware of strangers.  I internalized that message and carried with me into my adulthood.  In Austin, TX, 30 years ago, on a few busy street corners, you were likely to see someone standing with a sign that read, “I’m hungry.  I need a job. I need money.” Unfortunately, over the years, this sight grew more common.

            Stopped in my car at busy Austin intersections, I saw these people in need.  But they were strangers, and I remembered “Beware of strangers.”  I did not look them in the eye.  I did not roll down my window.  I did not offer them anything.  I guess I tried to pretend they weren’t even there. 

            Then, my daughters were born.  I shared with them that God loves each and every one of us.  I told them Bible stories.  I taught them about Jesus—his life, his ministry, his death, and resurrection. And when Mary and Sarah saw the people standing on the street corners holding their signs, they asked, “Mommy, what would Jesus want us to do for them?”  And I knew, I could no longer pretend the people weren’t there. I know, even though I did not want to, I had to do something.

            So, on summer days, when we drove into Austin to run errands, the girls and I would carry a cooler in our car.  Stopped at a light, we would roll down the window and offer a

bottle of cold water to the person standing in the hot sun.  At first I was uncomfortable.  “Beware of strangers.”  I would not look at the person or say anything.  At first, I just handed them a water bottle.  But, over time, I realized that I needed and wanted to respond to these people as the beloved children of God that they are.  I needed and wanted to acknowledge their presence, to look them in the eye, as I offered what I had.

            Over the years, our summer water bottle cooler was replaced by year-round homeless bags. We filled paper bags with water & juice, peanuts & crackers, fruit cocktail & Vienna sausages, plastic dinnerware and napkins.  We kept a couple of bags in each car. Over time, even when I ran out of the bags, I realized I had something to offer.  I waved, I made eye contact, I smiled, I spoke, I offered a blessing. This summer, if I didn’t get stopped at a light, I found myself circling back around.  I wanted to make sure I got to share food and drink with the person standing on the corner holding the sign that read, “I’m hungry.”

            What had originally been an effort—a forced practice—had become an inward desire from which practice seemed to flow naturally. Over many years, I was being transformed.  It began with my daughters’ question: “Mommy, what would Jesus want us to do?”  As adults, now they would frame that question: How can we be Christ’s disciples here—in this situation?  Originally my response did not well up from deep within me.  I had to force myself to move beyond my initial fear, “Beware of strangers.”  I started small—a bottle of water, and I practiced.  I forgave myself when I failed—when fear took over and I didn’t roll down my window, when I didn’t smile or speak, when I forgot to re-stock. 

I forgave myself and persevered. And I studied. I studied the One in whose life we see the fullness of hope and love that God desires for each one of us.  I studied Christ.

            I do not see people holding “I’m hungry” signs at intersections in Paola.  But I know there are hungry people here, so as part of our offering, we bring groceries for PACA food bank.  I do not see people with “I’m hungry” signs at intersections in Paola.  But I know there are people here who God wants me to feed in some way—to acknowledge, to extend my hand in fellowship, to offer a blessing, to nurture.  Here God is leading me into another transformation—different from the one in Austin. 

            “Mommy, what would Jesus want us to do?” My daughters asked.  The question persists—not only for me but for each of us.  How can we be Christ’s disciples here?           

            For Matthew, coming to the wedding banquet dressed appropriately means living a transformed life. How is God calling you to live a transformed life?  Sometimes that transformation begins like a spring welling up out of us from the “love of Jesus, love of Jesus down in my heart” And sometimes, it means pushing ourselves out of our comfort zone—practicing doing something that may not come naturally. How is God calling you to live a transformed life?

            The good news is—God wants us at the banquet feast.  The good news is—Christ offers his righteousness for us to wear.  The good news is—the Holy Spirit will dress us—will help us to live the transformed life—of Christ’s disciple.  Praise be to the One through whom all things are possible.  Praise be to God—the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.  Amen. 

Justified--Philippians 3: 4b - 14

           

            Although still pleasant and responsive to the greetings of others, Darlene seemed distracted this evening at Bible study.  Usually one to draw others into pre-class conversation and laughter, she just smiled at us when she entered.  She took a seat and seemed to want to read her workbook rather than join us “early birds” in rehashing the events of our day.  Once everyone arrived and the study began, Darlene could not keep her composure any longer. “For as long as I can remember,” she said,  “I’ve been sure I was saved.  That was the one thing I have held onto all these years—through divorce and family discord.  But in Sunday School Roger started talking about predestination.  Since then I’ve been wondering—What if I am not saved.”  Her voice breaking, tears pooling in the corners of her eyes, she turned to me and asked, “Mari Lyn, how do I know that I’m saved?”  My heart was breaking for this sweet woman, this woman I had worshiped with, this woman I had studied with, this woman I had served with.  My heart was breaking for Darlene, and my blood was boiling at Roger.  My blood was boiling at Roger, the Sunday School teacher whose ill-timed and unexplained reference to predestination had burdened Darlene for almost a whole week. 

            Perhaps that’s how Paul was feeling as he wrote this letter to the Philippians, this congregation he loved, this congregation with whom he worshiped and studied and served.  Perhaps his heart was breaking for them in their confusion as they heard new teachers from Jerusalem.  Perhaps his blood was boiling at those new teachers who had brought a message of the gospel so different from the one Paul had fervently preached.  These new teachers—Judaizers—had burdened the Philippians with stipulations—stipulations that narrowed the gospel.  They had burdened the Philippians with pre-requisites.   Pre-requisites for claiming God’s gift of grace.  These new teachers said that to claim God’s covenant of love, the Philippian Christians had to first acknowledge and claim the covenant between Abraham and God.  The visible sign of that covenant was circumcision.  According to the Judaizers, before the Philippians (who were all Gentiles) could claim Christ’s grace, they had to be circumcised. 

            Next, these new teachers said that to claim God’s covenant of grace, the Philippians had to acknowledge and claim the covenant of law mediated by Moses between the Israelites and God.  The visible sign of this covenant was the 10 commandments and the ancillary customs and rules which had grown out of observing them.  To the gospel Paul had preached, these Judaizers were adding requirements —circumcision, eating kosher, and striving for perfection under the law.  With such requirements how was the gospel good news?

            Using his pen, Paul strikes back—forcefully.  His words preceding our scripture today are “Beware the dogs who mutilate the flesh.” Beware the Judaizers who are telling you Philippians that you have to be circumcised.  Paul reminds them that he was born a Jew, circumcised as a baby.  Growing up, not only did Paul learn the law of Moses, he zealously upheld it—persecuting those who deviated from it.  “Look at me,” Paul says, “I can lay claim to both covenants—Abraham’s and Moses’—yet I count that as garbage, as rubbish.  For focusing on these covenants can get in the way of accepting Christ’s freely given gift— Christ’s grace.  Paul says, he would have told the Philippians if laying claim to Abraham’s or Moses’s covenants was important.

            None of that matters when it comes to the gospel of Jesus Christ.  For, the gospel is not about Paul’s pure Jewish pedigree or his  impeccable law-keeping resume.

The gospel—the good news—is about Christ and what God has done through Christ.

            Paul assures the Philippians, “the good news is that through the faith of Jesus

Christ, God has laid claim on you and you are reconciled with God.”

            “Salvation does not rest with us but with God.” (Boring & Craddock, The People’s New Testament Commentary, 620)  This is a basic tenet of the Reformation. It is a grounding truth to which we Presbyterians hold.  Our salvation does not depend on us.  Our salvation does not depend anything we do or don’t do.  Our salvation depends on what God does—on what God has done—in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus the Christ. 

            How do I know that I’m saved?  Darlene pleaded that night in Bible study.  Across the years, in conversations with other people, I’ve heard variations of that question:

To be saved, I’m supposed to believe—believe what?  To be saved I’m supposed to do something—do what?  To be saved I’m supposed to have faith—what faith?  How do I know that I’m saved?

            Our salvation, our reconciliation with God does not depend on us. It is all God’s doing. For it is only through the power of the Holy Spirit that we even recognize we need to be reconciled with God.  It’s not what we believe or how much we believe.  It’s not how strong or weak our faith is.  It is only through the power of the Holy Spirit that we have any faith at all.  It is not our faith that matters.  It is Christ’s faith.  Our justification—our being made right with God—comes through Christ’s faithfulness.

            Our salvation does not depend on us. It is all God’s doing.  It’s not about how well we do or don’t follow the 10 commandments.It’s not about how well we do or don’t follow the Golden Rule.  It’s not about how much or how little good we do. For there is nothing we can do to earn reconciliation with our loving creator.  That reconciliation, through Christ, is a gift, a freely given gift—grace. 

            Our salvation does not depend upon us.  It is all God’s doing—it is freely given to every single one of us—not just to those of a special race, not just to those of a given gender, not just to those of a particular socio-economic status, not just to those of a certain age. 

            It is all God’s doing, a gift freely given to each one of us, but we have different experiences. My friend, Anna Sue, grew up in the church.  Baptized as an infant, the first language she learned was the language of faith.  Her family—loving her into being, caring for her, reading the Bible to her, bringing her to Sunday School and worship—her family enacted God’s love for her.  The Bible stories were as familiar to Anna Sue as any family story.  Looking back on her life, she cannot name a specific event or time that separates her knowing Christ’s grace from her not knowing it. 

            It is all God’s doing, a gift freely given to each one of us, but we have different experiences. Unlike Anna Sue, my Daddy could point to a time in his life when God’s love was revealed to him.  My Daddy could name a specific time when he realized that Jesus Christ lived, died, and was resurrected in order to bring us into right relationship with God.  My Daddy could pinpoint the specific event that led him to respond to this good news with a prayer of thanks and supplication.  My Daddy could point to a time when, responding to this gift—this grace—his life was turned around and transformed.

            Christ’s grace is freely given to every single one of us—not just to those who grew up in the church and not just to those who have had a conversion experience. 

            It is all God’s doing, but we experience it differently.  And we respond in different ways.  Some people claim Christ’s grace cognitively—intellectually understanding the Bible’s message.  Some people claim it affectively—feeling peaceful, feeling faithful, feeling assured.  Some people claim it physically—perhaps saying, “I knew it in my gut.”  All of these are valid ways of claiming Christ’s gift—grace.

            How do I know I am saved?  Darlene asked that night in Bible study.  We know we are saved—not through something we have done or believed.  We know we are saved through the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus the Christ.  We are saved—not so much from something as for something.  It’s not so much that we’re saved from dying and going to hell—although you will hear that if you listen to some folks.  We are not saved from death or a fiery eternity after death.  We are saved for life.  We are saved for abundant life, a life in relationship with our loving creator, a life in relationship with one another. 

            In accepting Christ’s gift, Christ’s grace, our lives are transformed—perhaps slowly over many years—like Anna Sue’s;  or perhaps quickly, overnight—like my Daddy’s.  Our lives are transformed.  We live—not for ourselves, but for Christ.  We live—not focusing inward on our needs and wants and desires—but looking outward at God’s creation and God’s creatures.  We live—not serving ourselves but seeking ways to serve others.  We live—not grasping—but giving.  That’s the kind of life I see Darlene living.

             And that’s what Paul is talking about at the end of this passage.  He claims Christ’s grace, he trusts God’s love, and he responds in gratitude—living a transformed life, a life as Christ’s disciple.

            How do I know that I’m saved, Darlene asked.  You, too, may have asked that question.

             You are saved—reconciled with God—by the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus. You are justified, made right with God through Christ’s grace—Christ’s freely given gift. You are saved for life—abundant life, transformed life here and now.  You are saved for new life after death.  This is the gospel.  This is the good news!  Will you proclaim it?