Sunday, January 22, 2012

1.22.12--Sermon on Mark 8:27-30

During my senior year of high school, I took my mom’s Sociology class. It was a dual credit course, and I was trying to wrack up as many college hours as possible before I graduated. Now, other than the little bit of awkwardness of being the son of the teacher, I had a lot fun in the class and learned a lot.

One of the lessons is one I will never forget. We were talking about the actual quantitative effect that peer pressure can have on the individual and how this can easily lead to mob mentality. To illustrate her point, my mom asked ten students to step outside of the classroom for a moment. When they were gone, she drew four lines on the chalkboard. They were all relatively the same size, but third line down was obviously longer than the others. She turned to us and informed us that she had given instructions to all but one of the students outside to pick the top line no matter what she asked of them.

When the ten people came back into the room, she asked each one to point out the longest line of chalk on the board. One after another, nine of the students came up, studied the board, and picked the top line as the longest. Now, Justin, the last student to come up, had not been given any instruction from Mom. He was supposed to come up and pick the longest line based on his observation of the four marks. But when it came his turn, he was so afraid to pick anything contrary to the other students’ choices that he went against his better judgment and chose the top line as well.

His need to fit in with the world around him had overruled his basic logic.

Monday, January 16, 2012

1.15.12--Sermon on Luke 15:11-32


Two weeks’ ago, Jess and I celebrated our second anniversary. As is usually the case on such memorable occasions, this day led to me spending the majority of my quiet time remembering all of the fun that we had at the ceremony and reception and even on the days leading up to it. I remembered the headache of trying to get everyone to his or her spots during the rehearsal. I admit that it was my groomsmen who were the problem. Someone made a comment that it was like herding cats, and they weren’t far off from the truth. I remembered having breakfast with Jess the morning of, both of us brimming with excitement for what the day would hold. So many memories crowded in my head, and, honestly, not all of them were happy memories.

I remembered the little tug in my heart when I realized that some of my family members had decided not to come to the wedding. I remembered some completely unnecessary tension that had formed between one of my groomsmen and me. And I remember being furious at two of my brothers while driving to the reception.