God Is Not Fair

Below is the message given at the WOW (Worship on Wednesday) service in the Gettysburg United Methodist Church July 18, 2012.  The scripture is Matthew 20:1-16.

            This story raises one of the questions that we always struggle with when we think about God.  Is God fair?

           

We obviously want to think God is fair.  After all, it would be pretty hard to love a god who was not fair, right?  We might respect the power of such a god, and we might serve such a god out of fear, but we would not love a god who was not fair.

           

On the other hand, we see a lot of things that happen in this world that don’t seem fair to us.  Someone who seems to have lived their whole life serving God and loving God is stricken with cancer, or is killed in a car accident.  How’s that fair?  A tornado comes along and wipes out a town.  Is that fair?  Some people are born into wealth and freedom, and others are born into poverty and servitude.  Is that fair?

           

In our Bible reading for tonight, Jesus tells a story about how God treats people that may not seem fair to us.  We have four groups of people who all work for a farmer.  One group works all day, one group works all afternoon, one group works part of the afternoon, and one group works for about an hour.  At the end of the day, they line up to get paid, and they all get paid the same amount. 

The ones who worked all day were upset.  We can understand why.  Here they were working all day, manual labor, in the hot sun.  Then, here come are these other people, who only worked for an hour, and they get the exact same amount.  That does not seem fair, does it?

           

What we need to remember is that Jesus did not tell this story as an example of good economic policy.  The first words of the story are “the kingdom of heaven is like…”  Jesus told this story to help us understand God and heaven, not economics.

           

What Jesus is trying to tell us is that there are no differences between people in heaven.  It does not matter whether we grow up in the faith, whether we accept Jesus as our Savior as children, as young adults, when we’re middle aged, or at the end of our life.  I mean, it matters as far as how we live our lives and what we do.  It matters as far as the impact our lives make on others and on society.  Jesus’ point, though, is that it does not matter as far as whether we get into heaven.  All that matters is that we accept Jesus as our Savior at some point in our lives.

           

But you know, sometimes that does not seem fair, either.  Why should someone who has believed in Jesus all their life, and who has tried to be a good person and do what’s right, be on no better footing in heaven than someone who lied and cheated and stole all their lives and then came to believe at the last minute?  It’s not necessarily that we think those late-comers should be kept out of heaven, but it just does not seem right to us that someone who hurt all kinds of people in their life on earth, and then, finally, after years and years of bad behavior, finally saw the error of his or her ways, should get just as much privilege in heaven as someone who followed the rules his or her whole life.

           

In that way, this story really has something in common with the story we discussed last week, the story of the prodigal son.  Because that’s exactly how the older brother felt, right?  He felt cheated.  He felt like he’d been dealt with unfairly.  He did not necessarily want his brother kicked out of the house, but he did not want Dad to throw a big party for him, either.  He did not see why his brother and he should be on an equal footing.  The younger brother had been irresponsible and wasted everything, while the older brother had been responsible and done his duty.  How was that fair?

           

What that question shows, I think, is that how humans look at fairness and how God looks at fairness are two entirely different things.  We look at fairness as a comparative thing.  We compare what we have with what other people have.  We compare the way we’re treated with the way other people are treated.  We compare our circumstances to the circumstances of other people.  And if that comparison leaves us feeling like we’re not doing as well as we think we should be, we get upset.  We say, “That’s not fair.”

           

Jesus points out the trouble we run into when we look at it that way.  Listen to what he tells us God’s viewpoint on that is.  He says, “I want to give the one who was hired last the same as I gave you.  Don’t I have the right to do what I want with my own money?  Or are you envious because I am generous?”

           

That’s what happens we will look at fairness as a comparison with other people.  We try to put limits on God’s goodness.  We tell God it’s not right for God to give to some people.  We get envious of people we think have gotten gifts from God, especially if their gifts seem better than our gifts or if we’ve decided they don’t deserve those gifts.

           

See, when we look at fairness as a comparison with others, we’re always going to run into a problem.  There’s always going to be somebody who we think is better off than we are.  There will always be someone who has more money than we do, or who has a better family situation than we have, or who has more friends than we do, or who just generally seems to have gotten a better deal from life than we have.  Always.  It does not matter who we are.  I’ll bet that even Bill Gates has somebody he looks at and thinks sometimes, “I wish I could have that life.”  Any time we compare our lives with others, we’re going to find someone we can envy.

           

Jesus tells us that’s not how God looks at fairness.  God looks at fairness as a one-to-one relationship.  Fairness is a relationship between us and God.  Other people have nothing to do with it.  

So, looking at that one-to-one relationship between us and God, is God fair?  I don’t think so.  Here’s why I say that.  Think about how this relationship between God and us works.  On one side, you have God.  God, who is all-powerful.  God who is all-wise.  God, who is perfect.  Then, on the other side you have us, who are…not. 

We are not all-powerful, although sometimes we like to think we are.  We are not wise, although we like to think that, too.  We’re certainly not perfect.  As Paul wrote, we are all sinners who have fallen short of the glory of God.

           

Given who God is, and given who we are, how would a “fair” god treat us?  Not very well, I suspect.  A “fair” god would give us what we deserve.  A “fair” god would punish us for our sins.

           

Yet, that’s not what God does.  This all-loving, all-merciful, completely unfair God does not give us what we deserve.  God gives us much better than we deserve.  God says that if we have faith in Jesus Christ as our Savior, then God will have mercy on us, forgive our sins, and allow us into heaven.  It does not matter what we’ve done.  It does not matter who we’ve hurt.  It does not how long we’ve hurt them.  If we accept Jesus as our Savior, if we ask God to forgive our sins, God will do just that.  It’s not “fair” at all.  It’s just wonderful and amazing.

           

Sometimes when things go wrong, we think God is not fair.  That’s not it.  It’s not the times when things go wrong that God is not fair.  It’s the times when things go right.  It’s the times when we’re scared of something, and then everything turns out to be okay.  It’s the times when we’re sick and get well.  It’s the times when we jam on our brakes and avoid the car accident.  It’s the times when there’s all kinds of lightning and thunder and wind, but nothing gets destroyed and nobody gets hurt.  Those are the times when God is not fair.  Those are the times when God does not give us what we deserve, but instead gives us something better than what we deserve.  And, of course, there’s what we just talked about, the greatest unfairness of all, that God would take lowly sinners like us and, as long as we believe in Jesus as our Savior, allow us into heaven.

           

It’s natural to question God when things don’t go the way we think they should.  God understands why we do that, and God won’t get mad at us for it.  We’ll be happier, though, if instead of blaming God when things go wrong, we instead think of all the things that went right.  Then, we can praise God for all the wonderful, incredible, unfair blessings God gives us.

The Greatest Man I Never Knew

            Wanda and I went to Armour to visit my parents over the Fourth of July.  It’s always good to see them, of course, but that’s not what I want to write about today.

            While we were there, my Mom gave me something.  It was a Czech language newspaper called The Slovak Presbyterian or, in Czech, the Slovensky Kalvin.  This was a Presbyterian newspaper in Czech that was published in the United States twice a month from 1907 through 1962.  My grandfather, Joseph Nadenicek, a Presbyterian pastor, was also the editor of this newspaper for about ten years, until his death on January 1, 1929.

            This was not the original of the newspaper.  Rather, it was an English translation done by my mother with help from my Uncle Paul.  The date on the newspaper is January 15, 1929.  In other words, it was the first edition of the newspaper published after my grandfather passed away.

            This edition of the newspaper was dedicated to him, but it was more than that.  It contains eulogies of my grandfather.  It contains a description of his funeral.  There was all kinds of stuff about him that I never knew.

            I’ve written a little bit about my grandfather in the past.  He’s the only one in my family, at least in my direct line, who was in the ministry.  I never knew him, of course.  My mother really has no memory of him, as she was only three and a half when he died.  Still, because we now share the same profession, he’s been something of an inspiration to me since I became a pastor.

            I keep a picture of him in my office and look at it from time to time.  I’ve wondered, what would he think of me?  I suspect he’d be pleased that I’d gone into the ministry—he’d had a plan that one of his children would become a pastor, and while that never happened, at least now he’s got a grandson who did.

            What would he think, though, of my approach to ministry?  What would he think of my views on theology?  Am I anything like him?  I would think about these questions, but I had no way to answer them.

            Now, I do, at least in part.  It pleases me to note that we are somewhat similar, at least in some ways.  Some of the things he believed, some of the ways he approached life and ministry, seem to have come down through my mother to me. 

It’s amazing to think about how we can influence people in ways that we never know or even dream of.  So, what I’m going to do over the next few weeks is share some of the things I’ve learned about my grandfather with you.  I know it will be meaningful to me.  I hope it will be meaningful to you, too.

            

Turning Points

The following is the sermon given at the WOW (Worship on Wednesday) service in Gettysburg July 11, 2012.  The scripture was Luke 15:11-32.

            Part of the genius of Jesus’ stories is the way there are always turning points.  There are decisions that get made that make all the difference in the story.  That’s especially true of the story of the prodigal son, too.  Each character makes choices that change the entire course of events, not just in his life, but in the life of the others.

           

It’s starts with the younger son.  The younger son makes the choice to ask for his share of the inheritance and leave.  What if he had not done that?  What if the younger son had thought, “I’d like to do this, but if I do my dad’ll kill me.  I’d better keep my mouth shut and do what I’m told.”

           

At first, it might seem like that would’ve made things better.  We’d like to think that if he’d stayed, the family would’ve stayed united and been happy.  Maybe not, though.  The younger son would still have had the desire to leave.  He’d still have wanted to see what was out there, to see if he could make it on his own.  Maybe he’d have come to resent his life at home.  Maybe he’d have started causing trouble, not just for himself, but for his brother and his father, too.  Maybe he’d have felt so stifled that he’d have hated his whole family.  Maybe his time at home would’ve made everyone miserable.  Or, maybe he’d have taken off anyway.  Maybe he’d have struck out on his own, with or without money, to see what the rest of the world was like.

           

He was at a turning point, and he made his choice.  He asked for the money, got it, and went out to see the world.  It was a choice that did not just affect him.  It broke up the whole family.

           

The father was at a turning point, too.  He had to make a choice.  It had to be a hard choice.  When his son came up and asked for his share of the inheritance, the father could’ve said, “What?  Are you crazy?  I’m not giving you anything.  You’ll get your share of the inheritance, assuming I actually give you some, when I’m dead and not before.  Now get out of here and get back to work!”

           

As I think about it, that’s probably what I would’ve said, if I was the father.  It’s not what the father says here, though.  He must have been tempted to.  After all, he obviously knew his son pretty well.  He probably knew what would happen to his son if he had money.  It’d be a lot safer for his son if he kept him at home.  It would not be denying him something.  It’d be protecting him.  It’d be protecting the whole family.  They’d stay together, and stay united in love.  It’d be for the younger son’s own good to not give him anything and keep him home.

           

Still, the father says yes.  We don’t know why.  Maybe the younger son had been in trouble his whole life, and the father had been bailing him out.  Maybe he knew that sometimes you have to let people make their own decisions and make their own mistakes.  After all, if the younger son went out on his own, his father would not be around to save him any more.  He’d have to sink or swim on his own.  Maybe he knew that the only way the younger son would grow up is if he had to deal with the consequences of his actions.

           

Whatever the reason, he did it.  He gave his son the money, and the son left.  Again, that was a turning point.  It was a choice that affected the whole family. 

Well, sure enough, the younger son got into trouble.  He ran out of money, the economy went bad, there were no government programs for him to get on, and he was in a tough spot.  He got a job, but it was a lousy job, feeding pigs.  Now, I grew up on a farm, and I’ve fed some pigs in my time.  It’s not a great job for anybody.  Now remember that Jesus was talking to Jewish people.  For religious reasons, they were not supposed to have anything to do with pigs.  This would’ve been about the worst possible job the younger son could’ve gotten.

           

So, the younger son reached another turning point, and had to make another choice.  Here he was.  He’d made this big show about how he was ready to strike out on his own.  Nobody was going to tell him what to do.  He was ready to make his own decisions.  He could take care of himself.  Now, here he was, a complete and total failure.  He’d made a mess of his life.  Everything his father had given him was gone.  He had nothing left.  He was barely able to survive.

           

He thought, well, maybe I could go back home.  But could he?  Think of how embarrassing that would be for him, to have to admit what a failure he was.  He had to be kind of scared, too.  What kind of reception would he get when he got home?  How would his father react when he told him what had happened?  Would his father even take him back?  Would his father disown him, tell him he was no longer fit to be called his son?  Would his father tell him, “Hey, you made your choice.  I gave you everything you were entitled to and you threw it away.  The gravy train is over.  You made your bed, now you can lie in it.  I don’t have anything for you.  Get out of here.”

           

Well, he made his choice.  He was going to go home.  He rehearsed what he’d say to his father.  He’d admit it all.  He’d admit how wrong he’d been, he’d admit what a failure he was, and he’d beg for mercy.  He would not even ask to be called a son again, just ask that his father give him a job.

           

He heads for home.  His father sees him coming from a long way off.  I wonder, did the father know what had happened?  We’re not told of any communication between them, but it seems like parents always know, right?  Besides, as we said before, he knew his son well enough to know what would probably happen.

           

So, we’re at another turning point.  The father had to make a choice.  What do I do?  Do I take him back?  Has he learned his lesson?  What if he’s the same the same know-it-all he was before?  Am I just going to be bailing him out one more time, enabling him again?

           

Well, the way Jesus tells it, it was no choice at all.  The father did not even think about it.  He not only took his son back, he welcomed him back.  He did not even listen to the son’s prepared speech.  He ordered fancy clothes for his son and threw a party for him.  He’d worry about giving him a lecture later.  This was a time to celebrate!  The family was back together!

           

And now, just when we think we’ve reached the happy ending, we’ve reached yet another turning point.  The older son comes into the picture.  He’d have known what had happened before, of course.  He’d have known all about what his brother did.  He’d have known all about what his father did, too.  Did the older son worry about his brother?  Did he think “good riddance”?  Maybe he’d been covering for his brother for years, doing his brother’s work as well as his own.  He may have been upset with his father for dividing the property, too.  You can say, well, the older son was still going to get his share, but his share might’ve been bigger if they’d kept it all together.  The estate might have grown.  There might’ve been interest accumulated.

           

Think about it.  Here the older son was, playing by the rules, doing what he was supposed to do, helping his father, waiting patiently for it to be his turn to inherit the property.  His idiot brother takes half the property, wastes it, comes sniveling back, and his father throws a party for him!

           

The older son is at a turning point.  He has to make a choice, too.  He has to choose whether to forgive his brother and welcome him back, or whether to feel angry and resentful.  As with all the other choices, his choice was going to affect the whole family.  If he chose to forgive, they could be one happy, united family again.  If he chose to be angry and resentful, the family would stay divided and broken.

           

He chose to be angry and resentful.  His father came out to talk to him.  His father explained to him why the father made the choice he did.  His father tried to get him to change his mind.

           

And there the story ends.  We don’t know whether the older son changed his mind or not.  We don’t know if the family was reunited or stayed divided and broken.  Jesus leaves the story unresolved.

Which is the way our own lives go.  Each of us has unresolved stories in our lives.  Each one of us comes to those same turning points.  We’ve had them in the past and we’ll have them in the future.  Some of us may have them now.  It’s not just in our family lives, either.  It can be any kind of relationship.  It can be something that’s happened recently, or it can be something that’s been going on for a long time. 

We come to turning points in our lives every day, and we make choices every day.  Every day, each of us chooses to unite with others or to stay separate from them.  We choose to act in ways that will form strong, loving relationships, or we choose to act in ways that will keep us divided and apart.

Just like with this story, our endings are unresolved.  We all come to turning points.  When we do, let’s remember this story and pray for the wisdom and courage to make the right choices.

It's the Little Things

This is the message given at Oahe Manor on Sunday, July 8, 2012.  The Scripture used is 2 Kings 5:1-14.

            This is such a wonderful story.  I think it says a lot about human nature.

           

You’ve got Naaman.  He’s described as “a mighty warrior”.  Now, physical strength and courage are still admired today, but they were admired a lot more back when this was written.  To have been called a “mighty warrior”, Naaman must have really been an impressive guy.

           

But he has a problem.  He has leprosy.  Now, “leprosy” was kind of a catch-all term that covered a lot of different skin diseases, so we don’t know exactly what Naaman’s illness actually was, but it was obviously something that bothered him quite a bit, because as soon as he found out that there was someone who could cure him, he asked for permission to go to that person.

           

But look at what happens here.  First, like so many of us, Naaman did not really listen to what he was told.  Naaman was told this person who could cure him was a prophet, but he did not go to Israel looking for a prophet.  He went to the king.  He just assumed that if he wanted something done, something that took great power, he had to go to the head of the government to get it done.  He did not listen to what was actually said to him.

I’m imagining being the King of Israel.  You’re sitting in your palace one day, minding your own business, doing whatever it was a king did back then, and you’re told there’s this mighty warrior outside who’s got a letter from a neighboring king.  You read the letter, and you sees this king expects him to cure the warrior of leprosy.

           

You’d kind of be freaked out, right?  The actual king sure was.  He’s going, “What?  So this guy has leprosy.  What am I supposed to do about it?  Am I supposed to wave my wand and somehow magically cure this guy?  What’s this all about?”  And then he thinks about it, and he starts to get scared.  He thinks, maybe this is just an excuse for this other king to go to war with me.  He demands this guy be healed, and when I don’t do it, because I can’t, he says “Okay, then, since you did not do what I wanted, I’m going to take over your country.”

           

Then Elisha hears about this, and he to the king, “Hey, don’t worry about it.  Send him to me.  I’ll take care of it.”  And the king does.  We’re not told what the king expected Elisha to do, but he’s probably thinking this is his out.  He’s done what so many of us try to find a way to do—he’s passed the buck.  He’ll send Naaman to Elisha, and if Elisha fails to cure him, he can say “I did all I could.  I sent Naaman to my best guy.  It’s not my fault it didn’t work, it’s Elisha’s fault.”  Again, it’s human nature at work—if you don’t think you can do what you’re supposed to do, find someone to blame.

           

So Naaman goes to Elisha, and Naaman makes a production out of this.  He takes all his horses and all his chariots to Elisha’s house.  Plus, remember, he’s got a lot of money with him, too:  ten talents of silver and ten thousand shekels of gold.  I don’t know exactly what that would translate into in dollars, but it’s a lot.  Naaman wants to make sure Elisha knows that a Very Important Person has come to see him.  Again, we have human nature at work:  when all want to feel important, and we all want other people to know just how important we are.

           

Elisha is not impressed.  He does not even come out to see Naaman.  Instead, he just sends a note that says “go wash yourself seven times in the Jordan River and you’ll be okay.”

           

And again, we see human nature.  Naaman is outraged.  Here he is, this incredibly strong, courageous man, and Elisha does not even bother to come out of his house to see him.  Not only does Elisha not seem to know how important Naaman is, he does not recognize how serious Naaman’s illness is.  Wash himself in the river?  If this skin disease could be washed off, he’d have done that a long time ago.  This is something that calls for something dramatic.  This is something that calls for something miraculous.  Naaman is prepared to pay a huge sum for his cure.  He’s also prepared to do something big and bold to earn his cure; after all, he’s a brave, mighty warrior.  He’s prepared for all this and what does he get?  A note that says “wash yourself in the river.  Ridiculous.  This guy claims to be a prophet, and he does not even seem to know what’s going on.

           

Finally, though, Naaman is convinced to do what Elisha told him to.  And, lo and behold, it worked.  Naaman was healed.

           

Here’s the point.  Too often, we look for God in big things.  We pray for God to do huge, dramatic things to help us through whatever we think we need help with.  God does do that, sometimes, but more often, God acts in small ways.

           

I can see that so many times when I look back over my life.  I’ll bet you can, too.  I see the number of things that had to happen so perfectly for me to have done the things I’ve done in my life.  I see the number of things that had to happen in exactly the right way for me to meet Wanda.  I see the number of things that had to fall into place for me to become a pastor.  There were a few big things that happened, but most of them were small things, little things, things that I did not even notice when they were happening.  God was working in all kinds of ways in my life, and I did not even realize it.

           

God is at work in us all our lives.  God is at work in us when we’re children.  God is at work in us when we’re young adults.  God is at work in us when we’re middle aged.  God is at work in us when we’re older, too.  God never stops working in our lives.

           

No matter what you may be going through right now, I hope you can realize that.  We worship a God who never slumbers nor sleeps.  Even when we’re not aware of it, God is at work in our lives.  No matter how you may feel or what your situation is right now, God is at work for you.  God is always there.

If Heaven Wasn't So Far Away

This is the message given in the Wheatland Parish Sunday, July 8, 2012.  The Scriptures are John 11:17-44 and Revelation 21:10-22:5.

            We’re starting a new sermon series today.  It’s called “This Is Country Music”.  We’re going to look at some popular and relatively current country songs and see what they say about the way people in our society look at faith and at life.

           

Now, I want everyone to understand right up front that these are not particularly religious songs.  A couple of them at least have something to do with faith, like the one today, but some of them don’t.  Some of them are not the kind of songs you’d normally expect to hear played in church.

           

The reason we’re doing this is that, regardless of what you may think of these songs, they’re popular.  Songs are popular for a reason.  There’s something about popular songs that people like.  There’s something about popular songs that speaks to people.  Whether it’s something we’re dealing with, something we wish we had, something about the general condition of living, or whatever, songs get popular because they say something that speaks to us.  We’re looking specifically at country songs because that’s the type of music that tends to be most popular around here.

           

The song we’re going to hear today to start this sermon series is by Justin Moore.  I’m sure at least some of you have heard it before.  It’s called “If Heaven Wasn’t So Far Away.”  The lyrics are below:

Every day I drive to work across Flint River bridge

A hundred yards from the spot where me and Grandpa fished

There’s a piece of his old fruit stand on the side of Sawmill Road

He’d be there peelin’ peaches if it was twenty years ago

And what I wouldn’t give

To ride around in that old truck with him

If heaven wasn’t so far away

I’d pack up the kids and go for the day

Introduce ‘em to their Grandpa

Watch ‘em laugh at the way he talks

I’d find my long-lost cousin John

The one we left back in Vietnam

Show him a picture of his daughter now

She’s a doctor and he’d be proud

Tell ‘em we’d be back in a couple of days

In the rear-view mirror we’d all watch ‘em wave

Yeah, and losin’ them wouldn’t be so hard to take

If heaven wasn’t so far away.

I’d hug all three of those girls we lost from the class of ‘99

I’d find my bird dog Bo and take him huntin’ one more time

I’d ask Hank why he took those pills back in ‘53

And Janis to sing the second verse of “Me and Bobby McGee”

Sit on a cloud and visit for a while

It’d do me good just to see them smile

If heaven wasn’t so far away

I’d pack up the kids and go for the day

Introduce ‘em to their Grandpa

Watch ‘em laugh at the way he talks

I’d find my long-lost cousin John

The one we left back in Vietnam

Show him a picture of his daughter now

She’s a doctor and he’d be proud

Tell ‘em we’d be back in a couple of days

In the rear-view mirror we’d all watch ‘em wave

Yeah, and losin’ them wouldn’t be so hard to take

If heaven wasn’t so far

If heaven wasn’t so far

If heaven wasn’t so far away

So far away

So far away

Death is one of the few constants in life.  It’s been around for thousands and thousands of years.  It affects each and every one of us.  You’d think, by now, we’d have learned how to deal with it, and in some ways I guess we have.  Still, death is hard on all of us.

           

That’s true in pretty much all circumstances.  Even if a death is expected, it’s still hard when it comes.  Even if we’re fully confident about faith, both in our own faith and in the faith of the person who’s passed away, death is still a very sad thing.  Even if we are completely convinced that someone has gone to heaven, we’re still sad when death comes.

           

If we want proof of that, we don’t need to look any farther than the story we read from the gospel of John, the raising of Lazarus from the dead.  You know, in some ways, the raising of Lazarus is not the most remarkable part of this story.  I mean, it’s incredible of course.  Still, if we accept that Jesus Christ is the divine Son of God, we’re able to accept that Jesus could raise someone from the dead.  After all, if Jesus himself could be raised from the dead, it’s not surprising that Jesus could raise someone else, too.

           

In some ways, the most incredible part of this story is these three verses, verses thirty-three to thirty-five.  “When Jesus saw Mary weeping, and the Jews who had come along with her also weeping, he was deeply moved in spirit and troubled.  ‘Where have you laid him?’ he asked.  ‘Come and see, Lord,’ they replied.  Jesus wept.”

           

Jesus wept.  Why?  Jesus knew what was going on.  He knew what he was going to do.  He knew Lazarus was not permanently dead.  He knew that, in just a very short time, he was going to raise Lazarus from the dead.  Still, Jesus wept.  Jesus cried at the death of a close friend, even though he knew that death was not permanent.  If even Jesus, who conquered death itself, reacted that way to death, we don’t have to feel bad when we don’t always handle it well.

           

It hurts to be separated from people we love.  The more we love them, the more it hurts to be apart from them.  I start missing Wanda when she’s just gone for a couple of days to visit friends or relatives.  That’s a situation where I know she’ll be back soon, and where I also know that I could go and get her if I really wanted to.  Now imagine having someone you love gone, and knowing that they’re not coming back.  They’ll be gone the rest of your life.

           

Many of you, of course, don’t have to imagine that.  You live with it every day.  It could be a spouse, it could be a child, it could be a parent, it could be anyone you feel close to who’s passed away.  It hurts to be apart from people we love.

           

I think this song hits on one of the reasons why it hurts so much.  Even if we’re convinced the ones we love are in heaven, heaven seems so far away.  If only there was some way to bridge that gap between us and heaven.  If only we could just go and visit our loved ones for a while.  If only we could just picture what heaven is, and see our loved ones there.  Even if we could not talk to them, just to see it, just to have some idea of what it’s like there.  If we could do that, it would not hurt so much to lose people.  If only heaven was not so far away.

           

It’s not that way, of course.  We’re not allowed to see heaven while we’re on the earth.  It’s been said that if we could, if we really knew how incredibly beautiful heaven is and how incredibly happy we’re going to be when we get there, it’d make our lives on earth miserable.  If you believe that theory, God is not hiding heaven from us to be mean to us, but to be kind to us.

           

I think there may be something to that.  I knew a guy once who had a death experience, who was dead and then brought back to life.  He said he really could not describe the experience very well, but for about a year after he was brought back to life, he went into depression.  He did not want to be on this earth any more.  He wanted to be in the next world, where he’d been so briefly.

           

In our reading from Revelation, we heard a description of the New Jerusalem.  Now, New Jerusalem may not be heaven, exactly.  Some would say it’s not.  We’re told, though, that it’s the place of the throne of God and of Jesus Christ, and that’s about as good a description of heaven as there is.

           

Listen to the beauty of it.  It’s brilliance is like that of the most precious jewels.  It’s as clear as crystal.  There’s every kind of precious stone.  The streets are made of pure gold.  There’s a river with crystal-clear water.  The trees bear some kind of fruit year-round.  Can you even imagine it?

           

None of that’s the best part though.  The leaves of the tree of life provide healing of the nations.  Total and complete healing.  No longer will there be any curse.  It’ll be Eden, the way the world is really supposed to be.

           

None of that’s the best part of it, either.  Here’s the best part.  It shines with the Glory of God.  There’s no need for a temple, because God is there, and God is the temple.  There’s no need for a sun or a moon, because the glory of God gives all the light anyone needs.  The throne of God and of the Lamb, Jesus Christ, are there.  We’ll be in the presence of God forever and ever.

           

Dealing with death will always be hard.  Heaven still seems far away.  It’s really not, though.  It’s as close to us as God is.  If we can feel God’s presence in our lives, we can feel a little bit of the joy of heaven.  If we can feel God’s Holy Spirit in our hearts, we can feel a little bit of the love of heaven.  By feeling God’s presence and God’s Holy Spirit, we can feel connected to our loved ones who’ve gone before us.  And then, maybe heaven won’t seem quite so far away.

The World Is Our Parish

            A couple of weeks ago, our parish facebook page got a “like” from a man in New Delhi, India.  If you’re reading this, my friend, welcome!

            Maybe it shows my age, or maybe it shows that I’m kind of a hick at heart, but I can’t get over the awesomeness of this.  It is amazing to me that a kid who has lived his whole life in small towns in South Dakota can preach a sermon or write a blog post, fire it through the internet, and have it read by somebody in New Delhi, India.

            It makes me realize, yet again, how, in this day and age, we need to re-think exactly what our ministry is and who it is we’re reaching.  It’s easy for us to start thinking of ourselves as just people in little churches in small towns.  When we think of ourselves that way, we can think, well, there’s really not much our church can do to make an impact on anything or anyone. 

That may not cause us to lose our faith, but what it can do is cause us to lose our enthusiasm.  We can lose our desire to go out and take chances.  We can lose our willingness to do new things, to innovate, to take risks to bring people to Christ.  We can start thinking of our ministry as being limited to those who are already within our walls, rather than thinking about all the people we might be able to reach who are beyond our walls, maybe beyond our community, maybe even half-way around the world.

The thing is that reaching beyond the immediate community should be something that all of us, as United Methodists, do instinctively.  It comes from John Wesley.  Wesley got into trouble with his church, the Anglican Church, because he would go beyond the borders of his parish to spread the gospel of Jesus Christ.  When he was criticized for that, he famously responded, “The world is my parish.”

As United Methodists, the world is still our parish.  That’s true whether we’re in big cities or small towns.  It’s true whether we’re in a big church or a small church. 

After all, after Jesus was crucified, all of Christianity was one very small church.  Basically, it was eleven people.  If those people had decided they couldn’t do much, or that they should just focus on the people they already had in the town they were in, nothing would ever have happened.

Jesus told us to go and spread the gospel.  He did not limit that to the people in our immediate vicinity.  He told us to go and make disciples of all nations.  That’s what those eleven people in the first Christian church decided to do.  That’s what we’re still supposed to do.

The world is our parish.  That’s as true for the Wheatland Parish as it is for any other parish.  Let’s keep looking for ways to go and make disciples of all nations, just like Jesus told us to do!

Ch-Ch-Changes

This is the message given in the Wheatland Parish on Sunday, July 1, 2012.  The scripture is Ecclesiastes 1:4-10.

            I grew up in the 1970s in the seventies.  What that means is that, when I was a teenager, the musical groups I was listening to were groups like Three Dog Night, ELO, and ABBA.  Now, by today’s standards, that’s all pretty tame stuff, but I remember that at the time, my parents did not like the fact that I was listening to that kind of music at all.  Not only did they not like it, they did not understand it.  They could not understand why I did not enjoy the big band music that they grew up with, bands led by people like Glenn Miller, Benny Goodman and, of course, Lawrence Welk.  And I’m sure my grandpa, who loved the old cowboy singers like Gene Autry and Roy Rogers, could not understand why my parents would like that big band stuff.  And on and on it goes.

           

It can be easy, when we don’t like a particular style of music, for us to just dismiss it out of hand.  It’s easy, but it’s probably not a very wise thing to do.  Because, as we conclude our sermon series, “Stone Tablets in a Wireless World”, one of the things that constantly changes in our society is popular styles of music.

           

I’ve heard people say music is the universal language, but I don’t think that’s true.  I think music is a lot of languages.  Hearing a type of music we’re not familiar with is kind of like hearing a language we’re not familiar with.  When we first hear it, it just sounds like noise.  The only way it can make sense to us is if we spend enough time with it to get familiar with it.

           

Think about the traditional church hymns we use.  Now, I don’t want anyone to take this the wrong way, because I love a lot of those traditional hymns.  One of the favorite parts of my week is when I go out to Oahe Manor on Tuesday morning and spend a half hour playing the piano and singing those hymns with the folks out there.

           

Here’s the thing, though.  I was born in 1958, and I’ve been singing those traditional hymns all my life.  But music has changed a lot since 1958.  Those traditional hymns sound nothing like the popular music of today.

           

It was not always that way.  When people like Martin Luther and Charles Wesley were writing what now are our traditional hymns, they very often used the popular tunes of the day.  They just put Christian words to them.  The songs people sang in church sounded just like the songs they sang in other places.  Now, they don’t.  And to people who are not used to “churchy” music, it sounds foreign.  It sounds just as foreign as if we were speaking in a foreign language.

           

The reason people like Luther and Wesley used the music of their day to give people a Christian message is that music is a very powerful thing.  It evokes images.  It evokes emotions.  It evokes memories.  Songs get connected in our minds with certain events.  I’ve seen people cry while listening to a song, not because the song is particularly sad, but because it reminded them of something sad that happened when they heard it.  And I’ve seen people smile when they hear a song, again not because of the song itself, but because of a happy memory that they’ve connected to that song in their mind.  Music is something that is extremely powerful.

And music sticks with us.  It’s probably easier to memorize music than anything else.  I can hear a song that was popular when I was in high school, and even if I have not heard it for twenty or thirty years, I can still remember all the words.  I’ll bet there are songs you can do that with, too.  That’s how powerful music is.

           

Because music is so powerful, music is something we can use to reach people who might not be reached by listening to a sermon on Sunday morning.  That’s true no matter how wonderful and brilliant these sermons you hear on Sunday morning are.  Again, music sticks with us.  I’ve been going to church all my life, but there are very few sermons I’ve heard that I can remember.  I can remember lots of songs about faith, though.

           

As you know, we’re doing a contemporary song in our worship services now.  In our Wednesday night services in Gettysburg, we’ve been using more contemporary music.  It’s not that contemporary music is inherently better or worse than traditional hymns, but it is more like the music you hear on the radio.  That means contemporary music is less of a foreign language to people who are not used to traditional hymns.

           

What’s interesting, though, is that while styles of music have changed, the things songs are written about have really not changed all that much.  The reason for that is that people have not changed all that much.  We still have the same basic human needs—food, clothing, shelter.  We still have the same basic emotional needs, too—respect, love, feeling that we make a difference.  Each generation thinks it’s creating the world over again, but in many ways the world stays pretty much the same from one generation to the next.

           

The author of Ecclesiastes recognized that.  He tells us that even though we may think things are new and different, they’re really not.  He tells us that no matter what happens, “The sun rises and the sun goes down…The wind blows to the south and goes around to the north.”  We may think we’re experiencing things no one has ever experienced, or feeling things no one has ever felt, but in fact, he says, “There is nothing new under the sun.”  If we see a thing and think it’s new, he says, “It has already been in the ages before us.”

           

That may seem kind of depressing, in a way.  It may make us feel bad to realize that, despite all the ways the world has changed, we’re really not all that special, after all.  Everything we’re experiencing has been experienced by others.  We think we’re creating all this stuff that’s new and different, but all we’re really doing is fiddling around at the margins.  We change the technology, we make it easier to communicate and to travel, but we don’t do anything to change human nature. We may not like to think about that.  It can make us sad to think that, at the end of our lives, nothing about the world will be fundamentally different, that, as the author of Ecclesiastes says, “A generation goes, and a generation comes,” but nothing much actually changes.

           

But in another way, that can be comforting.  What it means is that, despite the changes we’ve talked about in this sermon series, God created a world that is pretty stable.  I mean, think about it:  it would be a pretty fragile world if one generation could come along and totally change everything about it, right?  Human nature would be pretty weak and unstable if it could be made totally different from one generation to the next.  If it was easy to change the world for the good, it would be just as easy to change it for the bad.  The fact that human nature does stay the same, that our human needs, whether physical or emotional, stay the same, that the world as a whole does not change easily, and that it has never has changed easily in all the years of human existence, shows that God wants it that way.

           

There’s another thing that’s comforting about this, too.  And that is that, while human nature may not change, God’s nature also does not change.  God is the same God today that was thousands of years in the past, and God is the same God that will be thousands of years in the future.  God’s love never changes.  God’s mercy never changes.  God’s grace and forgiveness never change.  Music may change, fashions may change, hair styles may change, technology may change, but God never changes.  God is the same yesterday, today, and forever.

           

There’s one more thing that does not change, too, and that’s God’s promises to us.  God promised, through Jesus, that our sins would be forgiven if we believe in him.  God promised that if we believe in Jesus, we will have everlasting life in heaven.  And God promised to send the Holy Spirit to enter our hearts and increase our faith, so we can feel God’s presence with us here on earth.  God promised all these things to us, and those promises will never change.  God is always faithful to God’s promises.

           

Music may change, technology may change, but God does not change.  When we feel a little unsettled at all the changes in society, we can remember that we’re not the first generation to feel that way, and we won’t be the last.  And we can remember that, no matter what happens, the sun will continue to rise and set, the wind will continue to blow, and God will continue to be God.  God will continue to love us.  And God will continue to offer eternal life to all of us, young or old, through our faith in Jesus Christ.  That’s the message of those old stone tablets, and it still applies, even in a wireless world.