12.11--Our Advent (Sermon on Isaiah 61:1-3 and Luke 4:14-21)

A week and a half ago, while I was still sleeping, millions of people around the nation were up and preparing for one of the scariest, one of the craziest, and one of the most unsettling events of the year: Black Friday.

Do we have any Black Friday shoppers here? Does anyone go out and brave the cold weather, early morning, and cutthroat competition on the morning after Thanksgiving? I can’t bring myself to do it for a couple reasons. The first is that I value my sleep too much to ever desecrate it by waking up so early. The second is that I spent many a Black Fridays growing up going out with my mom and waiting in the seemingly mile-long lines while she ran around and grabbed any- and everything she could find off of her Christmas list. I’ve earned my shopping stripes. I’m retired.

This year, though, one of my classmates woke up from his turkey nap at 10 pm to try and be one of the first in line at Best Buy. He had his heart set on a new TV for his family, and he was not going to let the deal pass. Unfortunately, he did not get there early enough to be among the first inside the store. He ended up waiting out in the cold in a line that wrapped around the building for almost 4 hours and then spent another hour inside the store. While he waited, he started talking with the people on either side of him. The gentleman ahead of him was there to purchase a new computer for his mom. The one behind him was there for a game system for his kids. As they talked, my friend heard more and more testimonies around him of shoppers who were there for the purpose of buying for others.

They waited, and waited, and waited, just so that they could make someone else happy.

12.4--Great Expectations (Sermon on Luke 1:5-25)

The story goes that Balaam, a priest and sorcerer of much renown, was on his way to thwart the Israelite king and his armies. Having been hired by the enemies of Israel, Balaam set out on his trusted donkey to the Jew’s encampment so that he might curse them and gain for his employers the upper hand. As he was traveling, God sent an angel, armed with a sword, to bar his way.

Now, Balaam, for all his prowess and priestliness, could not see this heavenly being standing so menacingly in front of him. If he had been unimpeded in his traveling, his life would have been cut rather short. Luckily for him, his trusted steed’s eyes were opened to the impending doom, and she stopped in place and would not move a step closer to the armed seraph. Balaam, who was oblivious to the danger, cursed his donkey and beat her. She moves slowly and carefully around the angel, and they continue on their way.

The story is not over, though. God moves his malicious messenger farther down the road. Again, the donkey sees what Balaam cannot. Again, the donkey stops short. And again, Balaam curses and beats her. Not the nicest guy, is he?

A third time God places his angel in Balaam’s path, but this time it is in a narrow gorge. The angel is taking up the entire path, and there’s no way for the Balaam-laden donkey to work herself around the heavenly barrier. When the donkey sees the angel, she stops and will not move, no matter how much Balaam beats her and curses her. Now, Balaam is not a patient man. He, a priest and sorcerer of great renown, is used to kings shriveling before his gaze. No one crosses him, and yet this donkey is getting the upper hand… or hoof… on him. He has had enough, and he is ready to strike this animal down for her incompetence. But as he prepares to kill her, God opens the donkey’s mouth and Balaam’s eyes and ears. She—the donkey—calls him out for being an ignorant jerk, and he, already wide-eyed at his donkey speaking, sees the angel waiting menacingly ahead of them.

He was completely caught off guard by the angel and the donkey.

11.27--Prepare (Mark 1:1-8)

“Prepare ye the way of the Lord!”

The Broadway musical, Godspell, opens with a colorfully dressed and eccentric looking John the Baptizer belting these seven words into and over the audience. The first time that I saw the play, a young man—with a much better singing voice than myself—just let loose as his words resonated throughout the church, and God used this simple melody fill the sanctuary and send chills up my spine.

“Prepare ye the way of the Lord!” 

11.24--Reasons to Rejoice (Thanksgiving Sermon at an Interfaith Service))

It was January of 1983. They had just finished recording the ninth and what was supposed to be final track for their next album, but it didn’t feel complete. One more song was needed. There was only one problem, though: They were out of time. Their studio time was maxed out, and they were about to be kicked to the streets.

At this point, the lead singer does something kind of crazy: he opens his Bible. A certain passage jumps out at him almost immediately, and with the precious little bit of studio time they have left, they put the Scripture to song. It took ten minutes to write, ten minutes to record, and ten minutes to mix. The album was complete because of this song, and it became an instant fan favorite.

This song, “40”, has closed more than 300 U2 concerts around the world since then.

11.13--A Time Such as This (Sermon on Esther 4)

I spent the summer of 2009 working as a lifeguard at the TLU Maybee Pool. I've got the body for a lifeguard, right? The physique? This was one of those jobs that came with so many perks that I absolutely could not pass it up. The school paid for my lifeguard and CPR certification, it came with free housing, I’d be working with some of my best friends, and my favorite summer hangout spot—the Comal River—was just a short drive away. It was perfect.

Now, in years prior, both my wife, Jess, and one of our good friends, Kelli, had worked here, and as far as I knew, no one had ever had to make any kind of life-and-death save; there had been no major accidents, and even the first aid kit was only brought out once in a blue moon. So we expected to have a pretty laid back summer spent getting a good tan, teaching kids how to swim, and floating the river on our off-time. And, honestly, that is what we got. No one had to put their rescue training to use, and even this big white boy was a few shades darker.

It was a great summer.

Nov. 6--Drawing the Line and Digging Our Heels ( A sermon on Daniel 3)

Brad Paisley, one of my favorite country music singers, has had twenty-nine number one hits in his career. One of the funniest of these, in my humble expert opinion, is his song “I’m Still a Guy,” released in 2007. In it, Brad tells his wife that even though he might have changed in certain ways because of their relationship, he cannot and will not change the core of who he is. He is very clear to his love: “You’re probably thinking that you’re gonna change me and in some ways well maybe you might; scrub me down, dress me up oh but no matter what, remember I’m still a guy.”

In this song, Brad lays out what makes him… well, him. He might open up and pour out his heart to his wife, he might walk her very feminine dog, and he might even be caught carrying her purse for her while she tries on clothes out the mall, but there are things that, in his mind, are non-negotiable. His identity as an individual is rooted in certain things, and even though he cares deeply for his beloved, he cannot compromise all of who he is for her.

On some points, he is unwilling to budge.

10.31--Our Dry Bone Valleys

Our Scripture reading today comes from Ezekiel 37:1-14. Let us together dive into the depths of this story. Listen attentively to this story of our people.

<Tell Ezekiel 37>

Imagine it. Imagine God picking you up and transporting you to a valley that is full of bones. Imagine being led from one end of this valley to the other, picking your way through the bones as you go. Imagine accidently stepping on one them, feeling more than hearing the crack under your foot as you wince at the jarring noise.

Why would God bring you here? What is so significant about the bones that they would catch and hold the attention of the Almighty? Why is it so important that you walk among them?

10.16--With Great Power (Sermon on 2 Kings 2:18-25)

My family is a movie-going family. There was a two-dollar movie theater in the town over from us, and we would go almost every week to see a different movie. The seats were old and deep; sitting in them was like sitting in a Lazy Boy recliner. The popcorn was just on the too-greasy side. And the projector was old enough that the picture quality was starting to fade slightly.

I loved it.

And what was my favorite type of movie to watch? Super hero movies. Yes, the plot line was always pretty much the same. Yes, the good guy always got the girl in the end. Yes, they always managed to throw in some funny, tension-breaking line at just the right spot in the drama. And yes, I loved them.

I remember going with my family to see Spiderman when it first came out. I was so excited, because Spiderman was one of my favorites. He never seemed to be the perfect hero, but he always managed to get the job done.

I could appreciate that in him, because I felt that way a lot in my own life.

I sat on the edge of my seat through the entire film, eyes riveted to the screen. What a perfect balance of action, comedy and even romance! What a wonderful combination of great cast, spot on writing, and just enough special effects to get the job done but not overkill it. It was perfect.

Now, I don’t know about you, but I always stay through the end of the credits when I’m at the movie theatre. Some people do this out of respect for the people who worked hard to bring me my movie. I do it just to see if there’s a teaser at the end for the next film. And while my family and I waited patiently to see if anything was at the end of the credits, my little sister wakes up from the hour and a half long coma she’s been in since Spiderman started. In the loudest voice her four-year-old self can muster, she asks, “Where’s Batman?”

10.9.11--Great is God's Faithfulness

Steve Jobs, the creator and former CEO of Apple, passed away this last Wednesday. Jobs was the innovative genius behind such inventions as the Apple 2, which was the first marketed personal computer, the iBook, iTunes, iPod, iPhone, and the iPad. Within hours of his death, the news was all over the web—many of my Facebook friends changed their profile picture to the Apple logo, the Apple web page put up a tribute picture to him, President Obama himself said a few words in honor of the man, and even competitive companies like Microsoft and Google paid homage to this man’s life and work in their own special way.

This one man has left an amazing impact on the world, and even those who worked against him have to admit that one of the great minds of our time has passed too early from this world. I think the President said it best in his official statement: “There may be no greater tribute to Steve’s success than the fact that much of the world learned of his passing on a device he invented.”

The world will remember Steve Jobs due to the impact he has left behind him.

Breaking the Roof--A Sermonette for Preaching Class

My dad was on the other side of the door. That’s all I knew, and that’s all I cared about. I could see him through the glass, still in his uniform since he came straight from work to pick us up. Now, I didn’t know or care that the door was an emergency exit, or that setting off the alarm in an airport was a federal offense. All my eight-year-old brain cared about was that my dad, whom I had not seen in three months, was behind the emergency exit door, watching as we waited to process through customs as the Honolulu International Airport. So, when Mom let go of my hand for a second to fill out a form, I walked over to it, placed my hands on the push-bar, and walked through to Daddy.

Mom had to explain to security why I had done what I did, and I knew that I should be getting yelled at, maybe even getting a spanking, but she didn’t get mad at me at all. She knew what had driven me to open that door; she knew I wanted to be with my dad.

10.2.11--Our Slow Fade (1 Kings--A Sermon on the Story of Solomon)

Friends, today I am going to share with you a Cajun secret. My dad’s side of the family has some Louisiana its blood, so I can claim to be at least in part a Cajun. And with this hallowed ancestry comes certain culinary characteristics. One is a craving for extremely hot food. When we have guests over to our house and we cook spicy food, I have to cook one batch for Jess and I and another batch for our guests because they aren’t used to the fiery onslaught their mouth is about to endure. Another is that secret recipes are passed down from father to daughter, mother to son, generation to generation. It might be the use of a specific spice, or a unique way to prepare a certain dish. It is one of these secrets that I am going to share with you today.

And it’s about frogs.

Now, every self-respecting Louisianite knows that if you put a live frog in a pot of boiling water, it will hop right back out and be a very unhappy amphibian. What some do not know, though, is that if you put a frog in room temperature water and then place it on a burner or over a fire, the frog will happily swim around while it is being boiled to death. So, if you are going to cook your frogs while they are still alive, make sure you bring the water to a boil while the frogs are in the pot. 

This way, your frog will… literally… croak.

9.25.11--Learning a Hard Lesson from David (Sermon on 2 Samuel 12:1-23)

In H.G. Well’s classic, The Time Machine, a genius scientist does the seemingly impossible—he invents a machine capable of moving forward and backward through time. Now, I must admit to you that I watched the 2002 movie that was only loosely based on the book years before I actually got around to reading the literally timeless novel, and, honestly, there are parts of the story line that I like better in the film adaption.

The main change in the storyline between the novel and film is the protagonist’s reasoning behind building his time machine. In the book, he builds it solely out of scientific drive and curiosity. In the movie, he builds it in hope of reuniting with his love, who died years before on the day he proposed to her.

Isn’t it interesting how much of our cultural imagination is wrapped up in mastering time? Throughout the media mediums are stories and musings that focus on people trying to go back in time to change something from their past, or trying to go to the future to see how things work out for them if they follow a certain path. We want to have control of every aspect of our lives, and we want to know that we made the best possible decision that we could in every instance.

In The Time Machine, though, the protagonist learns that no matter what he does to try to change the past, no matter how many times he saves his fiancé from the doom awaiting her in the future, it only prolongs the inevitable. Every time she is rescued from one fate, she falls into the hands of another fatal accident.

Even with a time machine, he cannot change the past.

9.18.11--Shattering the Box

Friends, can I be honest with you? Some Disney movies freak me out. I mean, think about it. In the Little Mermaid, a giant octopus witch steals the souls of living, sentient beings and little kids are subjected to watching a chef try to boil a crab while it is still alive. In Sleeping Beauty, a girl in a coma is awakened by a strange man and then attacked by a green dragon. In Snow White, a young woman’s stepmother tries to first strangle and then poison her just because she’s beautiful!

These stories are scary! These stories are cruel! And we hide it all behind cute Disney animation, which makes it all alright.

But you know what the worse one of the bunch is? Alice in Wonderland. The story is nuts. A girl chases a rabbit into its home and ends up in the Disney version of the Twilight Zone. There, she drinks strange concoctions out of strange containers, eats strange foods, meets animals and fairytale creatures who talk to her, and is sentenced to death by a queen who rules over a deck of playing cards.

Messed up.

9.11.11--Scouts and Kings

When I turned 16, my dad worked out a deal with Papa, my grandpa on my mom’s side, to buy one of his ranch cars for Tomas, Ben and I to drive. It was a tan 1964 Scout International that Papa had bought from the dump and had fixed up to running condition. And with the little bit of extra money my parents could pull together, they bought it for us. This 4-speed hunk of metal was as unappealing to my teenage mind as cars could get, and I couldn’t believe that Dad would get me this instead of helping me buy a truck. So I started saving my money up until I had enough to afford the down payment on a Dodge Ram, the vehicle that, to this day, I consider being my first car.

I hated the Scout. It was a piece of work. The gas meter didn’t work, so we had to keep track of how much gas we put in it and when or we could easily find ourselves stranded without gas. You had to bypass 1^st gear when you started it because it would automatically stall if you didn’t. The radio and air only worked half of the time. And about 75% of the time, you had to get it rolling down a hill to get it started in the first place. The only good thing about it in my 16-year-old opinion was that it had a solid steel frame, so if I hit anything, my tank and I were going to be just fine.

9.9.11--Homily for Wilson-Kohlmayer Wedding

Brothers and sisters, friends and family, James and Dana. We are here to celebrate a wonderful thing, to witness to the joining of two souls under God. Could there be a better place to be right now?

           

Dana and James, I haven’t known you for very long, but it is more than evident to me and everyone here that what you have is special and worth celebrating. You two are bound together by an unbreakable bond: love. Love is the manifestation of God’s Holy Spirit in God’s creation. From the beginning, we were created out of an outpouring of love for the purpose of loving. God loved Adam and Eve enough to create a world specifically for them. God loved the Israelite people enough to deliver them from the hands of the Egyptians. God loved us enough to send God’s only Son to die for our sins and to live again that we might live in Him, and God loves us enough to continually bless us even now.

But in God’s infinite wisdom, God knew that for us to fully experience that love, we would have to be able to give it as well as receive it. Just as tasting a freshly baked cookie is much different than cooking one, for us to truly experience the breadth of God’s love for us, we had to be able to give love to others. That is why from the beginning of creation, humanity was made to be in relationship, that is why we have been built with the capacity and need to love and be loved by others. And so we hear Adam’s heartfelt outpouring to Eve when he calls her “Bone of my bone; flesh of my flesh.”

9.4-Where You Go I Will Go

Well, we are gearing up for one of my favorite times of year: football season. College ball kicked off last week and pro starts this week. I can’t wait! As a Texan, you can probably guess where my allegiances lie. Now, college football has always been my favorite, and my family has traditionally been a Texas Longhorn Football family. When my brother, Tomas, went to A&M, though, our loyalties shifted ever so slightly. We would still root for Texas and tended to follow their games more closely, but when that long-awaited “Lone Star Showdown” game comes along every Thanksgiving, we found ourselves torn between supporting the Horns and supporting Tomas’ alma mater. Even now, I am more likely to turn on a UT game, but this Thanksgiving I will more than likely be on the fence about just who to cheer on.

When it comes to the NFL, though, I have been a Cowboys fan for as long as I can remember. I can remember watching the games with my dad as a kid, getting to meet Emmitt Smith at the Pro Bowl in Hawaii one year, and cheering the Boys onto victory in Super Bowls XXVII, XXVIII, and XXX. They were unstoppable in my mind, a veritable force to be reckoned with.

Then the Cowboys apparently decided to take a break from winning… for about 15 years.

8.21--In It, Not Of It

My wife, Jessica, and I just returned from a 5-day vacation to Texas. We flew into the Arlington area, then drove down to San Antonio area, from there went to Burnet, and finally back up to Arlington. When we were trying to decide where we were going and what we wanted to do while down, we realized that we have too many friends and family to see and that Texas is just too spread out to see all of them between Monday and Friday. So, we made the best of the situation, had a whirlwind visit with about 18 hours clocked driving around the state, and we saw everyone we could for as absolutely long a time as we could.

And I realized something very important about myself while there: I am a Texan, through and through, but now New Jersey is starting to seep into me and take root! I am a much more aggressive driver, I expect my corn to come straight off of the cob in the summertime, and it took me a few seconds to remember that I have to pump my own gas down there! Now, I don’t know exactly what to think of this. I have always seen myself as something of a spy, or infiltrator here in Jersey. I have come equipped with the best that Texas has to offer in regard to hospitality, gentlemanliness, more “y’alls” than you can shake a stick at, and a good ole southern outlook on life, and my job was to infect all of this into the hustle and bustle of all them yankees in the northeast.

8.14.11--Be Strong and Courageous

I firmly believe that somewhere in my history I am related to at least one of the great explorers of history. I get too excited about adventures and learning about new places for this not to be the case. And, I know that the rest of my family is affected by this as well. We love to go explore.

I remember one day, while we lived on Guam, we decided that we wanted to check out the parts of the island that were, shall we say, less traveled than others. Now, for those of you who do not know much about Guam, let me first say that you’re not missing much. There is not much to know about it. The entire island is smaller than the county in Texas in which I was born. It’s tiny, and there are only so many roads and trails you can have on a tiny island. But, that being said, we loved it. We would go on these treks called boony stomps. The boonies were what the locals called the jungle areas; these boony stomps were hiking trails that you could take to get to secluded beaches. I have to tell you, they are some of the most breathtaking beaches I’ve ever seen. Even though I was young, my 6 and 7 year-old self still logged away the images of the waves and the sand and the fish that would swim right up to you. These boony stomps were always great adventures and wonderful times spent together as a family, and I absolutely loved them.

7.31.11--Golden Earrings and Scarred Ears (Exodus 31)

So it’s no secret. I’m a big guy. I have been for a while now, and honestly, it’s just within the past few years that I’ve started trying to do something about it. Throughout high school, I somewhat foolishly tried to act as if this was not at all the case, though. I thought I could hide my weight from everyone and myself if I layered properly. My solution? I wore a Hawaiian shirt and t-shirt almost every day of school for four years. It became a trademark-like thing; people knew me for my Hawaiian shirts. Did they really hide the fact that I was overweight from the world? Absolutely no. Did I somehow trick myself into believing this was the case? Absolutely yes. 

I decided the summer after I graduated that I was going to be more confident about who I am, that I was going to turn over a new leaf and not try to “hide” who I was but be happy about the person God made me to be. But this confidence would come at a cost: to truly leave behind the destructive self-consciousness and self-image I had harbored for so long, I had to cut off all ties to it. So I said goodbye to my aloha shirts, and didn’t pack a single one to take with me when I moved out to TLU in the fall.

To get to where I wanted to be, I had to let go of the things that anchored me where I was. 

7.24.11--The Grass Is Always Greener... Right?

Jess is working for four different families as a babysitter and nanny right now. She is definitely staying busy, and God bless her for it, because I could not spend all of my day with other peoples’ kids! I don’t know how people do it, and I have nothing but the utmost respect for elementary school teachers, day care workers, and nannies. It takes a certain type of person to be able not only to put up with kids, but love them in spite and despite of their immaturity as they develop into young men and women. One of the families that she nannies for have been exceptionally welcoming and hospitable to us, going so far as to invite us over for dinner and even to stay overnight at their beach house this summer. We’ve had a wonderful time getting to know all of them, and we’ve even brought two of the kids to church with us a couple of times!

A couple of weeks’ ago, Jess and I went out to the beach house, not to babysit, but to check it out and spend some time in the water. Almost immediately upon arriving there, the two older kids, one thirteen and the other sixteen, started complaining to us about how there was nothing to do when they were at the beach house. They were away from their friends, couldn’t get a job because they weren’t out there long enough, and they didn’t have anything to occupy their time while their parents were at work. I looked out the window at the pool, saw through the tree line that separated their house from the beach, and decided that they had to joking. 

7.17--Storm Clouds and Silver Paint

(Based on the Joseph story from Genesis and Romans 8:28)

I’ve spent the last 8 weeks working as a summer chaplain at the Albert C. Wagner Youth Correctional Facility, just a few miles up the road from our house. While there, I’ve had the opportunity to speak with young men from all walks of life, not much different than you or me, who simply made a few wrong choices and are now paying the consequences of that. One of the things I’ve been doing is leading a twice-weekly Bible study for anyone interested in reading God’s word together. Most of the guys that attend regularly will adamantly tell you the same thing:

Prison saved their lives.

7.10.11--Wrestling with God (Genesis 32)

Let us pray.

One of the most meaningful moments of biblical revelation of my life was during one of Mr. Hobbs’ lectures in my high school AP World History class my junior year. We were talking about ancient history, specifically in the Middle East in what was ancient Mesopotamia and Sumeria, an area known as the Fertile Crescent. Mr. Hobbs lectured that religion saturated every aspect of life back then, and how every culture had its own gods that each ruled over all of the land visible from that god’s temple. It was very Lion King-esque, except instead of a god’s dominion being everything that light touches, the god’s dominion was everything within sight of the temple. Priests and other worshipers would face toward the temples for prayer, and any supernatural revelations from the gods came from their dwelling places.

And then along cam Abraham, who messed up the status quo. You see, when God spoke to Abraham, God didn’t speak from a temple. The story goes that God spoke… and Abraham looked up. God’s temple was not a building; God’s dwelling place was the very sky, and therefore God’s dominion included everything under the sky.

Everything that the light touches and the elephant graveyard.

7.3.11--Creation: Our First Impression of God (Genesis 1:1-2:3)

I read an article on Yahoo!News a while back that stated that my generation is the worst generation at changing a first impression. Once we have our minds made up about something or someone, we cannot break out of it. That impression is forever locked in our heads. That means that in a world driven by instant gratification and in a world where the average person sees and hears thousands of advertisements a day, we make up our minds of who and what we like and don’t like within a matter of seconds, disregarding everything else.

The first impression is crucial. I read once that almost 80% of first-time church visitors have already made up their minds on whether or not they will come back for a second visit simply by their impression of the outside of the church. Heck, most people won’t even wait to hear me preach before they’ve decided if they like my pastoral style. It will be determined by whether or not I greeted them, how strong my handshake was, and whether or not I said “um” during the greeting and opening prayer. Some people are even worse. They will judge me based on my age or even how I dress.

6.26.2011--Breaking the Ice

My little sister just returned home from her last children’s church camp. Next year, she’ll attend the Jr. High camps that I first attended and then worked as a councilor at while I was in high school and college. On her way home from camp, she called me, as she has every time she’s come home from camp, to tell me about the week and to share with me the stories still imprinted in her mind.

I asked her, as I always do, what her favorite part of the week was. Her answer threw me. I was expecting her to say something like “the worship” or “small groups” or “making this new friend who I can’t wait to see again soon.” Instead, she said that her favorite was the first day when they placed the icebreaker games and she got to know her fellow campers. This wasn’t at all what I was ready for. I mean, sure those games can be fun, but you go to church camp for the God experience, that moment during a specific song or conversation or walk through the woods where the presence of God is overwhelming and God speaks to you in a way He never has before. Icebreakers? I hated those games when I was her age. I thought they were a waste of time. Let’s get to the worship, the small groups, even the rec time when we can play ultimate Frisbee! I don’t want to play get-to-know-you games; I want to do camp!

6.18.11--Homily for Dunker-Matlack Wedding

I think it says a lot about Chris and Karin that they asked the pastor with the least amount of marriage experience to give the homily. I’m not sure what exactly it says about them, but it says a lot.

I don’t know if I have ever told y’all this, but I love the way you met each other. I think that every Christian couple should have the blessing of meeting while building a church! Most of you know that Chris works every summer as a mission builder, going wherever he is needed in the country and helping churches build new places of worship. Karin and Chris met while they were building this very church we are in today! What better way is there to lay a foundation for Christian fellowship and love than by literally laying a foundation for a place of Christian fellowship and love!

Transitioning from Milk to Solid Food

"We have much to say about this, but it is hard to explain because you are slow to learn. In fact, though by this time you ought to be teachers, you need someone to teach you the elementary truths of God’s word all over again. You need milk, not solid food! Anyone who lives on milk, being still an infant, is not acquainted with the teaching about righteousness. But solid food is for the mature, who by constant use have trained themselves to distinguish good from evil." -Hebrews 5:11-14

I've been thinking a lot lately about our spiritual transition from the milk of faith to the meat of theological truth. Paul, Peter, and the writer of Hebrews all speak about this development that happens within the life of the Christian and the life of the church, this movement from the basic understandings of our beliefs to the complex issues that take some chewing and some struggling to deal with. And I've seen this development within myself as I look back on my life and at some of the conversations with others that I have had.

6.5--Dirty Feet Evangelism: Belong

During the summer of 2007, I had the amazing opportunity to take part in a month-long immersion experience in Prague, the capital of the Czech Republic. I was extremely excited to have the opportunity to go check out a different part of the world, and I was going with a small group full of some of the friends I had made during the first year of college. I could not have been more psyched, and the city lived up to all of the hype that I had placed upon it. The architecture was beautiful, daunting, and old. The people talked funny and had interesting quirks. The food was amazing.

Now, when my wife, Jessica studied abroad, she went to Argentina with the hopes of bettering her Spanish. I went to Prague because it sounded like a neat experience. This led to a number of culture shocks and cultural barriers. First, I did not know a lick of the language. I was completely dependent on the native speakers who also happened to know English, which is about a third of the population. Second, this was my first time outside of the country. I had no idea how loud we Americans are in pretty much every situation! We would go into a restaurant to eat and people would move tables to get away from the “loud Americans.” We stuck out like a sore thumb those first few outings. The thing that shocked me the most, though, was the outlook that most people had on what was and was not acceptable in public. Now, it is not a rare or outrageous sight around here to see a couple walking down the street holding hands. One might even witness a quick kiss now and then. Anything more than that, though, and the barriers that are in place between private and public come crashing down. In Prague, this was definitely the case.

These are just three examples from a long list of why I felt like I stuck out in Prague. I did not know anything about this city’s culture or her people, and even though I loved being there and would absolutely go back in a heartbeat, I never really felt like I belonged there.

5.29--Dirty Feet Evangelism Part 2: Welcome

Two weeks ago, we talked about how we are called to be dirty feet evangelists. We talked about how we are called to go out into the world and share the Good News of Christ’s victory over sin and death with everyone we meet. We talked about how this is the true work of the church in the world, a work that was commissioned by Jesus Christ Himself as Saint Matthew records at the end of his Gospel. We talked about how the church is defined by this and should be known by this—that true work of the church is not found in the budgets, or membership, or style of worship, or the building, but is instead found in the authentic outpouring of God’s love and grace into the world. And we talked about how this call means that we must get up out of our pews and into the world, where we cannot be afraid to get our feet a little dirty.

This week, we are going to continue the conversation. We’re going to talk about what happens once we have gone out into the world and have invited people to the church.

Don't Let the Sun Go Down on Me!

"If you are angry, let it be without sin. The sun must not go down on your wrath; do not give the devil a chance to work on you."--Ephesians 4:26-27


Last year, sometime in late April, I downloaded an app to my iphone that I have sadly not used nearly as much as I should. The app is the Divine Office app, which offers the prayers, hymns, readings, responses, and blessings for each of the four prayer services that many Roman Catholic laypeople and clergy engage in daily. There is a morning, daytime, evening, and night prayer service. Sometimes, I go through the entire prayer service, taking time to offer up the prayers, quietly sing the hymns (if I know them), and do the readings. Most of the time, though, I just take the minute or two to read the Scripture lesson for each prayer time. Then, hopefully, throughout my day I will ponder upon them. 

What Am I Seeking? (AKA Riding the Wave of Life)

"But seek first His kingdom and His righteousness and all of these things will be given to you as well."
-Matthew 6:33

I have often felt--and said to many people--that my life is just one long surf after another. I just ride through life without ever really taking the time to figure out exactly where it is that I am going. There seems to be a master plan, and why fight it when I can instead enjoy the ride?

This has been used especially between one close friend of mine and myself to talk about my work ethic and educational drive. Because of my attitude about most things, it can easily come across like I do not work hard for my grades in school, that I tend to have great job opportunities fall from the sky, and that I do not really do anything to earn or deserve the good that comes to me. And while part of this is true--I am very blessed, beyond what I or anyone else realizes--I do work very hard and try to earn my place in both education and vocation.

5.15--Dirty Feet Evangelism Part 1: Go

His feet were always filthy. My brother Tomas ran Cross Country Track all four years of high school, and he was good. He went to state a number of times, both individually and as a part of a winning team, and although he rarely brought home the gold, he was still one of the fastest runners in Texas for a couple years. Running Cross Country is a dangerous endeavor, though. The course is not on a track, but instead goes up and down hills, over fields, down sidewalks, and pretty much anywhere else you can imagine. It is 3.3 miles, or 5 kilometers, of running, and the course can be as evil as the coach that maps it out. When it rains, the courses are muddy, and with everyone running over the same patches of ground, it gets churned up and the mud goes everywhere. It was not uncommon for Tomas to finish the course and be covered from the waist down in mud.

Hence the danger. With practices early every morning and meets every Saturday, it was a regular occurrence for Tomas to track an inordinate amount of filth into the house and the car on a regular basis. You knew when Tomas was home and where he was in the house because you could follow his trail from the back door. Mom would be furious, and after a while, she started making Tomas hose off his legs in the back yard before he was allowed in the house.

Celebrating Justice While Remembering To Love

I’m a big James Bond fan. I always have been. When I was little, I would pretend that I was a 00 Agent in Her Majesty’s Secret Service, and I would strut around my house, routing out the bad guys, thwarting terrorism at every turn, and trying to act as suave as possible while doing so. I had a small suction-cup dart gun that I would keep tucked in the waist of my pants so that any time an evil-doer came looking for trouble, it was trouble he found. I even tried to talk with a British accent—or Scottish one, depending on which Bond movie I had most recently seen—so I could be more like Bond.  By the way, Sean Connery is and will always be the greatest Bond. None of the others come anywhere close.

It wasn’t until recently that I realized just how violent James Bond really is. As Jess and I were watching one of my favorites, Thunderball, my lovely wife pointed out to me that Bond is ruthless! He even uses women as body shields! I thanked her for forever marring my conception of one of my childhood heroes, but I had to admit that she was right. James Bond is suave. He’s cool. But he leaves a long trail of bodies in his wake in every single movie.

And as a child I celebrated every single kill.

4.24.11--Easter Sunday Sermon

And they said nothing to anyone, because they were afraid.

The earliest copies we have of the Gospel of Mark end here, at chapter 16 verse 8. These three women, Mary, Mary, and Salome, who were all said to have been ardent followers of Jesus, had spent the last two days mourning the loss of their friend, their rabbi, their Messiah. As the life was extinguished from his body that afternoon as he hung on the cross, so were their hopes extinguished. They had bet everything on Jesus, and had come up empty-handed.

And yet, they were not ready to let go just yet. Even in death, he was still beloved by them. He had done right by them in life, and so they would do right by him in his death. And so, they got up early that morning and headed to the tomb where he had been placed.

Now, in this day and age, women prepared dead bodies for burial. It was usually done quickly, as close to one’s death as possible, so that the body had as little time as possible to decompose before they completed their task. Jesus, though, died after sundown on the day before the Sabbath. They were not allowed to prepare him for burial, and so he was placed in the tomb still ritually unclean.

So these women were heading to what could easily be a very gruesome, very smelly body. But they loved Jesus, and they would do right by him. Their hope for a better tomorrow was lost; all that they had were their rituals, all that they had were the tasks at hand.

And yet, upon arriving at the tomb, they are greeted with an amazing sight: the boulder was moved away, the body of Jesus was gone, and a young boy was perched on top of the preparation table.

What is going on? What has happened? Where is Jesus? Who is this boy?

And before they can say anything, the boy speaks: “Don’t be alarmed. You are looking for Jesus the Nazarene, who was crucified. He has risen! He is not here. See the place where they laid him. But go, tell his disciples and Peter, ‘He is going ahead of you into Galilee. There you will see him, just as he told you.’”

What wonderful news from this strange, mysterious boy! Jesus is not dead! He has been raised! He is risen! The tomb is empty—well, except for the boy—the stone is rolled away, and Jesus is risen! The hope that they had lost, the hope that died on that cross with their teacher, had been given new life!

And yet they said nothing to anyone, because they were afraid.

I would think that, having received such amazing news, they would have run as fast as they could to go and tell Jesus’ other disciples! To share with them the good news so that their hope might be returned as well!

And yet they said nothing to anyone, because they were afraid.

Is this the Easter story that you remember? Is this the way you see it played out in your head every year? Can this be the end of the story?

Of course not. When most people, myself included, think of the Easter story, we think of the disciples running to the tomb and seeing the empty table. We think of everyone celebrating the resurrected Christ! We think of Jesus speaking to the women at the tomb and them mistaking him for a gardener. We think of Jesus appearing to His disciples in the upper room, on the way to Emmaus, at the shore of the Sea of Galilee. We don’t think of the first people to hear the good news running away, scared.

And yet they said nothing to anyone, because they were afraid.

Why would they have done this? Why would they have kept silent about this news? Why would they have been frightened by the prospect of Jesus rising as He told them He would?

I don’t think that we can hold this against Mary, Mary, and Salome. They encountered the supernatural, and responded the way most people do when they encounter the supernatural. That is why every time an angel appears to an individual or a group of people, they always have to begin speaking with the phrase “Fear not” or “Do not be afraid.” Even our boy in the tomb uses the words “Do not be alarmed.” Encountering the supernatural can be a scary thing. So of course, after hearing that Jesus had come back from the dead, and after seeing a strange sight at the tomb, these women were afraid! They had every right to be.

To make matters worse, three days prior, they were cut to the core with the loss of their Lord. All of their hope had been wrenched away. Everything they had believed to be true seemed to have turned out wrong. Could they dare to hope again? Could they even for a second allow themselves the opportunity to think that things might not be as they seemed? Could they give their hearts away again, so soon after losing them?

And so they said nothing to anyone, because they were afraid.

But this is obviously not the end of the story. I mean, the earliest accounts of Mark’s Gospel might end here, but we know today that this is not the end of the story. How could it be? We know the story. It got out. We might not know how it did, but we know that the good news of Jesus’ resurrection was shared with the world and His church grew and grew. The other Gospels give us accounts of this. They say that the women ran back to tell Peter and the other disciples. Others dashed over to the tomb and saw the empty table. Jesus appeared to many of them in different places and for different reasons. And then He ascended into Heaven with the promise not only to come again, but to be with us always, even to the ends of the age.

Word got out. The story spread. The good news was told.

I’d like to think that after the initial shock of their experience at the tomb, Salome and the Mary’s were able to breathe and think about what had happened. Maybe they had sprinted away, ran as far as they could, and while they were gulping in air and panting after such a hard run, they looked at each other, saw the glimmers of hope twinkling in each other’s eyes, and dared to believe that it was so. Maybe then they went to share with the men and women who had followed alongside them. Maybe then they had the courage to place their faith back in this man who was once dead but is now alive again.

Whatever happened, however the word got out, we have these three women to thank that we now have the story of the empty tomb. We know from their witness that Jesus the Christ is not dead, but was raised back to life by His heavenly Father.

And we have them to look toward as an example of how to live our lives.

Not only were they willing to see Jesus through to the very end, not only were they willing to risk their very lives to prepare His body for burial, not only did they see the empty tomb for themselves, but they shared the story even though they were frightened and amazed.

And so, we are called to do the same. We are called to hold onto our faith even in those times of life when it seems like the world is as dark and dismal as it could get. We are called to keep going even when it seems all hope is lost. We are called to be witness to the glorious work of the resurrected Christ in the world today. And we are called to share that story, no matter the cost to us.

Let us pray. 

4.22.11--Good Friday

This is my first shot at a narrative sermon. It is from the perspective of one of the Roman soldiers on duty at the cross.

It never gets any easier for me. Some people seem to be able to get used to it, grow accustomed to it. They seem… desensitized from it. It’s as if emotional calluses have formed around their hearts and they are no longer able to empathize at all with these poor unfortunate souls.

They can joke about it. They laugh through it.

They don’t seem to see the fear, the anguish… the pain in the man’s eyes. They don’t hear the cries for mercy, the screams that escape mouths. They don’t see the spasming muscles. They don’t notice when their grips slip because they are holding flesh that is torn open and slick with blood.

You’d think that they were friends at a feast, not soldiers at a crucifixion.

Maybe that is their way of coping. Maybe they realize just how brutal it all is, but they have to make light of it to keep from being buried under the weight of such a heavy burden. Maybe they have all been where I am, and they have found that they have to laugh to keep from crying. But try as I might, it never gets any easier for me. I can’t drown out the screams. I can’t ignore blood. I can’t find any humor amidst the horror.

So I do my duty to Caesar and to Rome. I crucify these insurrectionists. And the entire time, I keep my mouth shut and eyes forward, praying to the gods that I won’t have to revisit my last meal until I am alone and safely away from the judgmental eyes of my company.

Today we were put on high alert and we’ve been accompanied everywhere we go by an extra contingent. My commander, Centurion Gaius himself, has come out to oversee the crucifixion of this man, Jesus the Nazarene. I had heard the name whispered by passing Jews throughout the week. Everyone had. This man who would have himself raised as king, who would dare to challenge the Emperor Caesar himself, was getting what he deserved, just like those who came before him.

Why this heightened security, though? Why this enhanced military presence? Was he really so great a threat that this was all necessary?

He’s making his way up path now. He’s so beaten and bloodied that he’s unable to even carry his own crossbeam! I’m glad that I was able to stay in the background for his lashings and beatings. We have some really sick people in our company, some people that enjoy inflicting pain. I can’t stand it! I want to serve my country, I even want to be a Centurion some day, but I’ll never be able to do that to a living, breathing person! I don’t care if they are rebel scum…

I’ve been assigned the duty of nailing his left hand to the cross. There are worse jobs, but this is one of the few that mean I have to be right up next to the criminal. I have to touch him. My wife will have bloodstains to remove. Again. She doesn’t understand why I do this. She wants me transfer. Oh, I wish it were that simple!

I stand there with my fellow brothers in arms, watching him make his way to the place of his execution. Everyone around me begins to shout insults at him and spit at him when he is close enough. I just stand there, with the nails in one hand and the hammer in the other.

The nails are enormous. As long as the hilt of my sword, they start from an extremely sharp point and grow until they are thicker than my thumb. I was issued two nails. Only one is really needed, but there’s always the chance for a mistake. My supervisor joked with me on my first round of nailing duty, “We wouldn’t want you driving it too far in and his hand flopping off! Take extras just in case.” Nice joke, sir. I really needed that mental picture.

The hammer is heavy, and it always seems heavier right before I have to use it. My father was a carpenter. What would he say about this heinous use of a hammer? A tool that is used to create, to bring order and togetherness, used as a tool of torture, a tool of death… Would he be proud of his son, the Roman soldier?

Why is this hammer so heavy?

It’s time. My task is at hand. I hope it doesn’t take too many blows. Someone loops a cord around his wrist to keep his arm taught. I place the nail in position. I strike once, twice, a third time and it is done.

I step back as they raise him up. The vertical beam slides securely into place, and there he hangs, in the middle of two criminals that had gone up not even an hour earlier. How could this man be a threat to anyone? He looks sad. Pitiful.

Everyone around is taunting him. We stand at the cross for hours, and my comrades and the Jewish bystanders spend the entire time mocking him. Even some of their priests have come out for the soul purpose of laughing at this man, who is hanging there dying!

After six hours of it, he lets out a strangled cry: “Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani?” I had to grab a nearby Jew boy and ask him what he had said. “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

Forsaken indeed. I hope I never have to feel that despair and abandonment. I hope my death is nothing like that.

And then, as he breathed his last, everyone seems to grow silent for the first time since venturing out to this accursed hill. Maybe everyone else is realizing just how horrible this act is. Maybe they see what I see.

Then my commander, Centurion Gaius, raises his voice and exclaimed “Yeah, sure. This was the son of God!” Everyone breaks out laughing. It’s pretty evident. When they look at the dead man hanging off of the cross, they see a humorous tale to share with friends back home.

That will never be me, though. All I see is this poor man’s limp body, up on the cross where I placed it. I can’t laugh. All I can do is pray that this will some day get easier.

Why is this hammer so heavy? 

4.17.11--Palm Sunday Sermon

(Just a little bit of context, I removed the pulpit, altar, and every cross, painting, and banner from the sanctuary. The walls are bare. The sanctuary only contains pews and people. And I am preaching in a polo, jeans, and barefoot.)

So it looks a little bit different in here today, doesn’t it? The walls are a little barer. The altar is not where we expect it be. We all know there should be a cross on the wall, a picture of Jesus, flowers, banners, towering chairs, flags, and a podium all right here, but they are gone. I’m sure that some of you, maybe even most of you, can close your eyes right now and picture in your mind’s eye exactly how the sanctuary is supposed to look, down to the last cross, the barest detail. Close your eyes. Give it a try. Can you picture it? Can you see the church the way it’s supposed to be? Well, my friends, today we encounter a very important lesson, both in the Palm Sunday text and in the appearance of our sanctuary. God does not always encounter us the way we expect God to. Jesus does not always ride into our lives as the Messiah that we expect Him to. Church does not always fit into our comfortable definitions the way that we expect it to.

Let’s dive into this text together and look at the story of Jesus’ triumphant entry into Jerusalem. We’ve spoken a number of times over the past year of the role of the euangelion, the Gospel bringer, during this time of history. Well, after the forerunners had gone out to spread the good news of victory to the nation, the people would gather in the capital city to welcome home their victorious king. The king would enter into his city, surrounded by his retinue, to the sights and sounds of a massive parade, a crowd gathered to greet their lord and assist in bringing glory to him as he rode triumphantly atop his warhorse from the city gates to the royal palace. Each person had his part to play in this: the crowd members shouted exultantly and laid down palm branches upon the ground as a kind of red-carpet treatment; the retinue mirrored the pride and glory given their king; the king handled himself with the charisma and honor worthy his status.

And this is how Jesus is understood to have entered into the Jerusalem for Passover. Proud. Mighty. Powerful.

But… Is this really how He entered the Holy City? There are most definitely some parallels, but Jesus, as he is famous for doing throughout the Gospels, doesn’t stick to the status quo in His entry. Jesus enters into the city not on a mighty warhorse, but on a donkey, a colt. He must have looked rather silly on this animal while the crowds and His disciples, all of whom were standing, were probably level or even a little bit taller than Him on his donkey. One of the disciples probably had to walk in front of Jesus to lead the donkey that had never been ridden before. The poor colt might have even been startled by the crowd, causing the disciples to have to constantly feed it treats and comfort it to keep it from bucking or dashing off. Jesus probably had to ride sidesaddle on it, like a girl, so that He could jump off and not risk getting kicked by the frightened animal.

Jesus rides not to a palace or stronghold within the city, but to the Temple, a place of worship. He goes to worship God, not make plans for war. He goes to teach, not spark a rebellion to drive the oppressive Romans out of Israel’s rightful land. He goes to heal the afflicted, not afflict pain on others.

And yet still, the crowds lay down their branches and yell, “Hosanna! Save us now!” They fulfill their part of the unspoken agreement between crowd and king.

There is something very different going on. It’s right in front of them. He is right in front of them. And this crowd, as they are waving their palm branches and shouting, doesn’t seem to get it. They were expecting a king to come in on a warhorse with an army behind him. They received a servant on a donkey, with twelve dirty men walking next to him. They expected a violent overthrow of the enemy occupying their home. They received a man who taught to love and pray for the ones who persecute you. They did everything they were supposed to do. They waved the palm branches. They shouted their hosannas. And this is what they received.

Maybe this is why a large number of them, four days later, changed their shouts from “Hosanna” to “Crucify”…

I’ve wondered for a long time what it would look like if Jesus were to come and visit some of the churches I’ve attended. Would the congregations welcome Him into their midst? Would they recognize their Savior if He stood before them? Would they follow Him if He called them out of the church and into the mission field?

Or would they hold too tightly to an understanding of church that only tangentially related to the worship of Jesus the Christ? Have the altar flowers, banners, golden crosses, and beautiful pictures of Jesus become so important to them—to us—that they have become the things we truly worship? Is the church building so important to us that it has replaced the people of Christ as what we know and understand to be the Church? Are clothes and shoes so important that we cannot hear the message God has for us unless it is delivered in suit and tie?

But Christ comes in and breaks the status quo.

Jesus does not enter the city as the messiah we want or expect. Christ does not allow us to be comfortable with a false identity and false understanding of the church, His bride. Christ comes in, riding on a donkey, worshipping in the Temple and teaching the true ways of God. Jesus does not incite a rebellion against the oppressors or raise up an army for war. Christ conquers sin and death through sacrifice and love. And in the same way, Jesus does not call the church to be a building with a sanctuary full of banners and altars and flags and symbols with a man in a starched black suit giving a sermon. Christ calls the church to be the living Body of Christ, the people of God in the world who share His light and life with everyone they can.

So where is it in your life that you need your status quo messed up? What definitions and identities do you need to have shifted? Where do you need to be jarred into a place of uncomfortability? Where is Christ arriving on a donkey, when you expected Him on a warhorse? We all have these places, myself included. I pray that God will reveal them to us all, and that God will help us to shatter these boundaries and break down the boxes that we try to fit Him into. I pray that God will again show us, in every part of our lives, not the Jesus we expect, but the Christ we need.

Amen.

6.6.08--Undeserving and Unfathomable Love

**I have the weekend off from preaching this week, so I thought that I would treat those few people who read my blog to a sermon from the past. This is a sermon that I preached to FUMC New Braunfels while working there as the youth director. I hope you enjoy!**

I really lucked out, because I get the opportunity here to speak on my favorite Scripture text! Now, I do have to admit, as I’m sure the youth are telling their parents and everyone around them right now, that pretty much every time that I preach I say that something or other is my favorite thing… be it Scripture, story, song, whatever… But this truly is my favorite Scripture passage, and later you’ll find out why.

Enough senseless talking, though. Let’s jump into the text.

I’m going to focus on Romans 5:1-8 today. We’ll start by breaking up the text into two different parts. The first section is Romans 5:1-5. Let’s re-read it. 

Therefore, since we have been justified through faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have gained access by faith in into this grace in which we now stand. And we rejoice in the hope of the glory of God. Not only so, but we also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering leads to perseverance, perseverance leads to character, and character leads to hope. And hope does not disappoint us, because God has poured out His love into our hearts by the Holy Spirit, whom He has given us.

I heard a story on KLOVE the other day that I want to share with ya’ll. The story is about a young Muslim man named Hajib who, after speaking with a Christian missionary, converted to Christianity and gave his life to Christ. Excited about his new-found faith, Hajib ran from the clandestine home of the missionary to his town about 5 miles away. Upon arriving at the town square, he began to tell any and everyone he could about Jesus and about how his life was changed because of this talk with the missionary. The people were enraged at his audacity in speaking out against Mohammed and their religion. They were so upset that a group of women attacked him and beat him within an inch of his life, leaving him for dead. His family came to him, picked him up, and took him home to heal. When he was able to get up and move around again, he left his house and went back to the center of his town and began again to share the Gospel to any and everyone who passed by him. Again, a group of angry women attacked him and again left him for dead. And again, his family came to pick him up and take him home to recover. When he was well enough, he went out for a third time to proclaim the name of Jesus. This time, the group of women came to him weeping and asked him why he kept coming back to them over and over, knowing that they were just going to attack him. His answer was simple. He said, “I have learned an amazing truth about Jesus the Christ, and I know that everyone will want to hear about it. I obviously wasn’t sharing him the right way, so I decided to try again and again until you came to know and love Him like I do.”

Even through suffering, Hajib persevered, and because of that, his village came to know Christ. This is the story I think of when I read the first few verse of Romans 5. Because of the work of the Holy Spirit in our lives, we are able to persevere through many different hardships and are better off because of it!

I just got through doing a translation and in-depth exegetical analysis of the book of Romans, and upon compiling my first draft, I sent it to my mom to proof read for me. She’s a high school English teacher and she has edited my papers for grammar and spelling mistakes since I started writing, so I didn’t hesitate in sending this 150+ page translation and exegesis to her to read through and proof read. She started by reading my translation of the Epistle to get in the right mindset for what she was doing. When she reached this section of Romans 5, she called me crying, saying that everything it says is true, and that she was so greatly encouraged by it that she finally felt hopeful about things.

You see, my mom has been in and out of the hospital multiple times this past year and a half. She has been battling some health problems that don’t seem to want to leave her alone. So far, she has had three different surgical procedures, had her appendix and left ovary removed, and is about to undergo a hysterectomy. This in and of itself would probably still be bearable for my mom. She’s a pretty strong person. But at the same time that all of this has happened, my dad, who is a tech-sergeant in the Air Force, has been away more than he’s been home. Most of his assignments are to places like South Carolina and Florida where he took part in a couple training exercises, but he has also served a 6 month tour in Iraq and is heading overseas to Afghanistan in the fall. The stress level at home has been through the roof.

When my mom read the first 5 verses of Romans 5, though, she saw exactly what it was that Paul was talking about and was able to look back and see Christ’s work and presence in her life even in the midst of sorrow and pain. She now has these five verses written all over her house and classroom so that she can always be reminded of how God is still present in a very real and very loving way.

I think this message is one that is very much so applicable in all of our lives. We’ve all gone through hard times. We have all dealt with suffering, and we’ve all seen difficult situations that we’ve had to pull through. And just as the saying goes, “what doesn’t kill us makes us stronger.” That might be a harsh truth, but it is a strong truth. If life were a walk in the park, we wouldn’t be the people that we are today. I wish that for all of us life could be one fun party after another, and I know that there are many people in the world who spend their entire lives and everything that they have on reaching that next high in life. The truth of it is, though, that no matter how much we love those mountain-top experiences, it is in the valleys of life, in the dirt of suffering, that we grow the most.

Now let’s jump into the second half of the Scripture:

You see, at just the right time, when we were still powerless, Christ died for the ungodly. Very rarely will anyone die for a righteous man, though for a good man someone might possibly dare to die. But God demonstrated and demonstrates still His own love for us in this: while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.

This is the part of the Scripture that is my favorite. In fact, this Scripture is so important to me that I had it tattooed onto my arm. How amazing is this? While we were still sinners, Christ died for us!

I must admit, though, that as much as I love these three verses and as often as I have read them, it was not until this past semester that I began to truly understand what it was saying, especially the seventh verse. When I began working on my studies in Romans in January, I knew that this was going to be one of those verses that I would struggle with a little more than others. You see, I did not know what it was saying! Verse seven says, Very rarely will anyone die for a righteous man, though for a good man someone might possibly dare to die. Why would someone dare to die for a good man, yet only rarely die for a righteous man? What is the difference? Knowing my problem with this verse, I looked forward to see what I would find when I translated it from the original Greek. What I found confused me even more, partly because I was looking at Greek words. I found that because of the way that the Greek sentence was worded, the verse could also be translated as, Very rarely will anyone die for a righteous man, though for the sake of good someone might dare to die. Now, this I understood. For one man, even a good man, it was not a common thing for people to lay down their lives. But for the good of everyone, some might just give up their life. This makes the next verse make sense too! God showed His love by doing just this! Jesus died for the sake of the good of the people.

I felt a little bit better about things then. I understood what it was saying now. The story doesn’t end there, though. You see, as part of the work that I did in Romans, I had the opportunity to interview some amazing and Godly people who knew their Bible better than I ever will. One of these interviews was with one of my professors Texas Lutheran. He is a Romans scholar, and I was greatly looking forward to some clarification on a few things, including this verse to which I had unearthed a new way of translating. When I presented my version to Dr. Russell for his thoughts, he urged me to re-think it and look at it again in the original context. So together we poured over this verse and the following verse, trying to make sense of it. Through this study, I realized that I was wrong in changing the translation. What Paul is saying in this section is not that for the good of humanity someone might give his/her life. What he is saying that it is a very rare occasion for someone to lay down their life for a righteous person. People value their lives to the point that even for a deserving person, it is a rare occurrence that someone would sacrifice their life for another. That being said, it does happen. For a good person, someone might just dare to die. Maybe. But God showed His love by sending Jesus to die for us when we were completely undeserving, something that no human would do for another who didn’t deserve it.

I have a wonderful friend named Bethany. Bethany is a wonderful girl who loves God more than anything or anyone else and is following His call that He placed on her heart to do missions ministry. Bethany has a legacy of mission work in her past. Her parents were missionaries in China. They worked there for almost ten years undercover, knowing that if the wrong people found out where they were, they would be dead. When Bethany was a few months old, a good friend of her parents who was there in China with them was found and arrested, his execution harsh and public. When this happened, Bethany’s parents fled China and came back to Texas, settling down and finding work in my hometown, Burnet. Bethany grew up in Burnet because her parents did not want her to grow up around the terrors that they faced in China. As she was growing up, though, Bethany felt a strong call to ministry, specifically missions work. Her parents greatly discouraged this, though, because they were terrified at what would happen if something were to go wrong over there. They knew that life, had lived that life, and didn’t want her to live that life.

Bethany stuck with it, though and is now overseas at a place that cannot be named doing work that she could literally be arrested and killed for doing. When her parents saw her determination, they- albeit grudgingly –began to support her whole-heartedly.

She’s doing God’s work. So why is it that her parents were so upset? The answer is simple. They felt that they were losing their daughter to undeserving people who would most likely kill her.

I tell this story to you because I think that it, in a microcosm of a way, parallels what Paul is talking about in these three verses. You see, just as in this story, there are two sacrifices that are evident in this Romans text. The first is the amazing sacrifice made by Bethany. The second is the even more amazing sacrifice made by Bethany’s parents. In the same way, Paul speaks here of two sacrifices that were made: The amazing sacrifice of Christ, God the Son, and the even more amazing sacrifice of God the Father.

How many of you here are parents?

Ok. How many of you parents would have no problem sacrificing everything you have, even your own life, for your children?

I know that my parents would, without thinking twice, give their lives for my siblings or me. I’m sure that there isn’t a soul in this congregation that would have any hesitations about giving his/her life for another.

Now I’m going to ask a question much harder to answer. I don’t want to you answer this out loud or anything. Just think about it and answer it for yourself. Would you be able to offer your child’s life for another’s? You know what, let’s make it a little bit harder. Would you be able to sacrifice your child for someone whom you love but who had rejected and turned away from your love?

Now, I don’t have a child and don’t really want one anytime soon, but if I was asked to give the life of a loved one as ransom for someone else, I wouldn’t do it. I don’t care if this person was the next president or whether they were just some bum on the street. I would not do it. My own life, maybe, but not a loved one’s.

This is exactly what God did for us, though! He gave all that He had, His most prized possession, His very own Son for us!

Very rarely will someone die for a righteous person, but for a good person, someone might jut dare to die. But God demonstrated and demonstrates still His love to us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.

We weren’t worth it. We were completely undeserving. Christ still died for us because He loved us that much! Even more so, though, God sacrificed His one and only Son because He loved us that much! There’s a reason that John 3:16 is so popular. It, like this section of Romans, is a banner that we as broken and sinful sinners can rally behind.

So what do we do with this love? We can’t simply hold it to ourselves. Christ died for us all, and we have to let everyone know it! Paul speaks of this very thing in Romans 10:14-15: How, then, can they call on the One they have not believed in? And how can they believe in the One of Whom they have not heard? And how can they hear without someone preaching to them? And how can they preach unless they are sent? As it is written, “How beautiful are the feet of those who bring the Good News!”

Christ is calling us to share the knowledge of God’s undeserving and unfathomable love with all. How else will they come to truly know Christ? So go and share God’s love, a love that didn’t come when it was convenient, but came when it was needed the most.

Let us pray!

3.20.11--Emmanuel, The God Suffering with Us (Sermon on Psalm 88)

I’m taking a class right now on African tribal religions and the impact that Christian missionary work had upon them. So far, this is one of the most interesting subjects that I’ve had the opportunity to study at Princeton. Our work has focused on one specific area of Africa and one specific people: the Ibo people of western Nigeria. We’ve been reading both historical fiction novels written by a descendant of an Ibo family as well as different academic articles and studies that try to explain why Christianity spread so quickly and so powerfully through these people and their tribes.

One of the most interesting things that I have learned so far in this class is that the Judeo-Christian God is the only deity from any area of the world that would allow suffering to happen to it’s people as a way to bring growth. A person’s hardship might not have been seen as a curse from God, but a gift from God that would bring about a blessing in the end. Now, this is not always the case in the Old and New Testaments. Sometimes we read about God unleashing his wrath upon the Israelites for turning against Him, or how God afflicted an entire nation with sores because they stole the Ark of the Covenant. These are hard stories to swallow a lot of the time, and they are stories we are not even able to begin to understand. That is all right, though. Sometimes, we are called to simply sit with these stories; hold them close to us and pray that God will some day help us understand them. There are other times in the Old and New Testaments, though, where we read that God hardens Pharaoh’s heart so that His glory might be known, or Jesus might say to His disciples that a man’s blindness was not due to a sin committed, but so that the glory of God might be known in the healing of his blindness. God is seemingly allowing hardship to happen out of love, not out of anger.

This does not happen with any other god of any other culture or people. In fact, most cultures and societies—like the Ibo people about whom I’m learning—will desert or banish a deity for bringing hardship upon a people. The job of the god is to protect and uplift a people, not allow suffering to happen. So why would our God be any different? Why have people continued to worship God even after He allows suffering to grip hold of the people? Why have the Jewish people continued to worship YHWH even after an event so terrible as the Holocaust?

The answer is simple, yet great in depth: because our God suffers with us. From as early as Adam all the way through to today, God has desired to walk with us through life and experience life alongside of His creation. In Exodus 3, we hear about a God who sees the misery of His people, who hears their cries of torment, and feels their sufferings. The psalmists expound on the wondrousness of a God who knows them completely and who walks with them in life. And in Matthew, we learn His name: Emmanuel. God with us. God who walks beside us. God who rejoices among us. God who suffers alongside us. Emmanuel.

And what is more, Emmanuel, God with us, suffers every kind of torment that we might suffer. He spends time alone in the wilderness, he is tempted by sin and pride, he is beaten, yelled at, and abused. And then he dies on a cross, one of the more horrible forms of death that humanity has ever beheld. And while on that cross, he experiences the suffering of feeling totally alone and completely abandoned. God with us, Jesus Christ, feels what it is like to be abandoned by God Himself. And so He cries out, “Eloi! Eloi, lama sabachthami!” My God! My God, why have You forsaken me? Emmanuel, God with us, Jesus Christ, knows our sufferings intimately because He suffered through them Himself and suffers through them with us.

I remember the first time that I truly began to grasp the enormity of this. The first time that my dad was deployed overseas for the war was the summer before my junior year of high school. I was at a two-week summer camp at TLU, where I would later complete my undergraduate work. Dad was supposed to leave on the last day of camp, so I was planning on returning home a couple daya early to see him off. The day before I was supposed to leave for home, Dad showed up on campus at dinnertime with a bag of ribs and two large sweet teas. We found a picnic table outside and ate dinner together, and as we finished up, Dad told me that he wanted me to stay at camp and enjoy my last couple days with my new friends. He said that all I’d be doing otherwise is riding in the car with him and driving away since they were leaving from a closed airport. He told me to stay here where I would be having fun and could be around happy people. I tried to tell him that I didn’t want to stay, that I wanted to be with him and the family, but he said that this was best and that he wanted me there at TLU.

I remember thinking that I was completely alone the next few days. I didn’t want to do anything or be around anybody as I sat there thinking about my dad and wondering if I’d ever see him again. He was going to war. People die in war. My dad could die! I was scared, I was lost, and I was alone.

Dad of course made it home no problem. The fool even came home a month early, and surprised my mom and us kids. I will never forget the day that he walked into my physics class, still wearing his dress uniform, and told my teacher that he needed to borrow me for a little bit. I didn’t even wait for a reply before grabbing all of my things and running to the door. The hug that we then shared held in it six months of fear, worry, and anxiety. It took away all of those feelings, leaving me feeling relieved and comforted.

When Dad told me he wanted me to stay at camp instead of coming to the airport to see him off, I felt alone and abandoned. I felt like he did not want me there, and I felt like I had been cast aside. When I saw him there in that school hallway, though, I realized that he probably felt just as alone and tormented because he had asked me to stay at camp and not send him off. I bet he wondered to himself if he had missed out on an opportunity to see his son one last time. I bet he wondered the entire time if he had made the right choice, or if he should have let me come with him.

Our Scripture lesson today is a psalm that I read over and over again while Dad was deployed. It is one that I read with tears in my eyes, and one that I read with anger in my heart. I felt like God had let this happen to me, God had allowed my dad to be taken away, and God had lowered me into this pit of despair. I have realized since, though, that this psalm only shows one side of the story. It only shows the pain, suffering, and torment that the person is fighting. It does not show the pain, suffering, and torment with which God is dealing. But, like I had to learn that my dad went through just as much as I did in his decision to make me stay at camp, we have to learn that God sees our pain, hears our cries, and shares in our sufferings.

Especially during this time of Lent, I hope that you can remember that our God is Emmanuel, God with us. Our God is a God that walks with us, rejoices when we rejoice, and suffers when we suffer. We are not alone in our sufferings. God is with us. You are not alone in your suffering. God is with you.

Let us pray.