8.5.12--Sermon on John 13:31-35

When I was a senior in high school, one of my classmates decorated and taped a sign up onto her locker. It had Rom 1:16 written on it and stated in big fancy letters: “I’m not ashamed of the Gospel!” It was up there just a few hours before someone walked by and ripped it off. She didn’t know who did it, or why, but during the next period, she make herself a new sign, near identical to the first, and taped it on her locker as she moved to her next class.

That was on a Monday. Tuesday morning, upon arriving at her locker to get her things for first period, she was aghast to see that her sign was once again removed. So she started the process again: make a sign, post a sign, lose a sign. This continued throughout the day and the next.

Make a sign, post a sign, lose a sign. Make a sign, post a sign, lose a sign.

By Wednesday afternoon, she was pretty upset about it. That night, at FCA, she shared her discouragement with us. She was simply trying to share her beliefs, and someone was tearing her down every time. So we decided as an FCA group that we were going to join her in declaring our faith for everyone at Burnet High School to see. A group of about thirty of us made our own signs that stated in big bold letters: “I am not ashamed of the Gospel!”

It sparked a movement. Soon more and more people were putting up their own locker signs in support of the faith. It did not take long before every third locker or so was wearing its own Romans 1:16 sign. They were multicolored and sported handwriting spanning from completely illegible to seemingly professional calligraphy, and they all declared what we thought was a strong stance on hard issue.

We were standing up for our faith, and supporting a fellow Christian’s right to stand up for her faith as well.

The signs kept coming down, though. No matter how many people put them on their lockers, every passing period saw more and more ripped off and thrown on the ground. We would work in groups to make extra signs, intent on winning this extremely important cultural battle. And the cycle escalated. Make 20 signs, post 20 signs, lose around 12 signs. Make 20 more signs, replace the 12 signs and post 8 more signs, lose a few more signs.

And so on and so on.

We were winning, though! More signs were popping up than were being torn down. And it didn’t take long before a group of us spotted one of the perpetrators vandalizing our pious property. We jumped on him, yelling at him and calling him names and humiliating him in front of the student body for his heinous crimes. Soon we even figured out whom the other people were who were ripping down our signs. We didn’t seek most of them out to verbally destroy them, we just made sure that everyone else knew who they were so that we could collectively shun them and teach them a lesson about attacking us in such a way.

And we won. After a while, no one ripped our signs down any longer.

The guy whom we so well shunned was the son of two members of my church at the time. He didn’t attend except when forced to do so, but his parents were strong members and avid supporters of the youth ministry. They came up to me after the service one Sunday and asked me if I knew what had happened with their son at school. They said that he came home so upset one day that he had refused to go back, that he said everyone hated him and it wasn’t worth it.

I pleaded ignorance, but I knew what had happened.

It was at that moment that I was realized that I was ashamed, deeply, deeply ashamed. Not of the Gospel, but at myself and at my fellow classmates that we would do such a thing in the name of our God. We were trying to stand up for our faith in the one whom we believed was the epitome of love, and in doing so we had shown hate and alienation for those who truly needed to know that love.

The next day I tore my own sign down, for I realized that what it stood for was not love, and therefore was not God. 

7.29.12 Sermon--Mark 12:38-44

In my first semester of seminary, I took a class on different practices of prayer. My professor started our time together by telling us a story about Stanley Hauerwas, a noted theologian and ethicist, and—much more importantly for me—a fellow Texan. Hauerwas, who is currently working as a professor at Duke Divinity School, was asked by the president of Duke University to give an invocation at the opening of a meeting for the Board of Regents. The president told Dr. Hauerwas that this was really just a formality that had to be observed, and since the school had a strong religious heritage, he needed someone with a strong religious background to lead prayer. On the bright side, though, this would give this seminary professor a wonderful chance to rub elbows with movers and shakers, so performing this formality could really help further his career.

Well, even after that heart-swelling pep talk, Hauerwas agreed to lead the Board of Regents in an opening prayer. He was introduced after the official welcome by the school president, and once he had made his way up to the podium, he bowed his head and lifted up a prayer that went something like this:

“Lord, this prayer is really just a formality that has to be observed, and if we could, we probably do away with it completely. But since this is a school with a strong religious heritage, we recognize that certain obligations must be met, no matter how useless a ritual they may be. So hear our prayer, Lord, and let all be in agreement that our obligations to you have been met. Amen.”

Can you guess who was never invited back to a Board of Regents meeting at Duke University? 

6.10.12--Sermon on Mark 3:20-35

Can you imagine the scene? Jesus and his disciples steal into a house for a moment, maybe hoping to find respite from the crowd, maybe just hoping to catch a quick bite to eat in the midst of healing and teaching. Maybe, like the Texas weather I just left, it was just too hot out in the sun, and they were seeking the shade in shelter. Whatever the reason, they were not allowed even a moment’s break from the onslaught of the masses. Scripture attests that a crowd gathered again around him such that it was impossible for him and his followers to even eat.

That’s definitely standing room only.

But Jesus does not get angry or annoyed at the crowd. He doesn’t chase them out or demand silence and solitude. Instead, he shows the same compassion to them that would later move him to feed over five thousand and then even later over four thousand. Jesus looks out on the crowd, on the people yearning to see him and to hear a word from him, and is moved by love, for they are like sheep without a shepherd. Jesus welcomes everyone in the crowd, those there to quench their sincere curiosity, those there out of awe, and those there to question and confront him.

Not everyone in the crowd is a stranger, though. Mark shares that Jesus’ mother and brothers were there, trying to get to him to take him home before the crowd revolts against him. Mark also shares that a number of the legal experts from Jerusalem—the Pharisees and scribes that Jesus will butt heads with throughout his entire ministry—have descended into the madness of the masses so that they might check out this teacher and healer.

The former are there to save; the latter are there to condemn. 

6.3--Sermon on John 3:1-18

During the summer after sixth grade, I set out on a mission of the direst sorts. You see, I was certain that there was a secret alien base hidden under Burnet High School. We lived across the street from the school, and there were strange happenings around it throughout the summer—people coming and going at odd times of day and night, weird lights shining out of windows and smoke hanging around doors, and weird noises coming from the gym and the auditorium when no one was supposed to be there.

I shared my convictions and fears with some of my close friends, people that I knew would take me seriously and share my concerns. We decided to set out one night to engage in reconnaissance work. We snuck out of the house around midnight—yes, I snuck out a lot during the summers—and we ventured across the street to the campus. As much as possible, we slipped from shadow to shadow, staying as hidden as we could. We had even donned black sweatshirts and black pants—in the summer in Texas, mind you—to blend into the darkness as much as possible.

After a slow slink from my house the school, we began our search for extraterrestrial existence. We peered into windows, checked every door we could, and we even climbed an outside ladder up onto a lower section of the roof. And do you know what we found?

Absolutely nothing.

5.27.12--Pentecost Sermon

It was a dark and stormy night, and not a good time to be out in the middle of the sea. The entire crew worked tirelessly to keep their small fishing boat afloat among the waves. Giant swells threatened to capsize the vessel and plunge them all into a watery grave, and ominous clouds darkened the stars that served as the only means of navigation. Everyone was bone tired and on edge.

How many of them were rethinking their vocational choice at that moment? How many of them were thinking that it would have been much better to take up a staff, sit in the shade of a tree, and care for a herd of sheep or cows. Anything, even the life of a shepherd, would be better than dying at sea!

Then, in the midst of this struggle with the sea, someone shouts that they see a ghost among the waves! They cannot help but halt their tasks for a moment to gaze into the night at the awful apparition that is slowly moving their way. Who or what is this thing? What should they do? How should they respond?

And just as panic sets in, they hear an all too familiar voice, a voice full of authority and comfort; it was the voice of their master. “Take courage! It is I! Do not be afraid.” 

5.20.12--Sermon on Romans 8

Therefore, brothers, we have an obligation—but it is not to the sinful nature, to live according to it. For if you live according to the sinful nature, you will die; but if by the Spirit you put to death the misdeeds of the body, you will live, because those who are led by the Spirit of God are sons of God. For you did not receive a spirit that makes you a slave again to fear, but you received the Spirit of sonship. And by him we cry, “Abba, Father.” The Spirit himself testifies with our spirit that we are God’s children. Now if we are children, then we are heirs—heirs of God and co-heirs with Christ, if indeed we share in his sufferings in order that we may also share in his glory.

            -Romans 8:12-17

As most of you know, I have a little sister who is twelve years younger than me. Katherine was born on February 24^th, at 7:47 pm, weighed 8 lbs 1 oz, and was 21 inches long. Now, because I was twelve at the time, I can actually remember the birth of my little sister. My brothers and I have actually been able to help raise her and be a part of her life in a wonderful way that is very different than it would be if we were closer in age. We’ve been able to attend her softball games and dance recitals, take her and her friends on adventures, and guide her through life as she grows and matures.

The age difference hasn’t always made things easy on her, though. By the time she was 9, all four of her brothers had graduated from high school and moved away from home. The house went from being full of people to nearly empty, and I know this was not an easy thing on her. She also had to grow up a lot faster than most kids, because we expected more of her and treated her like she was our age most of the time. I honestly wonder and worry sometimes if we took away some of the joy of her childhood because of that.

But Katherine is a tween now, which seems unreal, and has grown into a wonderful young lady. Most of our interactions for the past few years have been playful as we joke and tease each other as siblings do. It used to be that Tomas, Ben, Korey and I would be the teasers, and Katherine would be the teasee, but as she’s grown older, she’s also grown wittier and sharp on the uptake. I know that if I joke around with her today, she can now give as good as she takes!

Growing up, our favorite way to tease her was to try to convince her that she was adopted.

4.29.12--Guided Meditation on Psalm 23

The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. The Lord is the good shepherd, who cares for all of his sheep, even me. In him, all of my needs are met. Even though I may find that at times I want more than I have, and even when it seems like the current pastures are not green enough, I can stand firm in the knowledge that my God is sustaining and caring for me, and I need nothing more than this. When I needed it the most, I know that my Lord, my good shepherd, gave his life for my own, giving all that he had so that I might retain what little I had. The Lord is no hired hand, who placed his own needs above mine, but is instead the shepherd, the one who gave all for me. The Lord, my shepherd, loves me.

He makes me lie down in green pastures; he leads me beside still waters; he restores my soul. My shepherd wants only the best for me, and is always leading me to new places of nourishment and rest. When the ways of this world become dark and dangerous, my Lord, the good shepherd, leads me to newness and to life. While I rest, I know he watches over me, standing guard and keeping me safe. My God provides for me even when there does not seem to be any provisions, for my Lord, the good shepherd, has the power to multiply food to feed four and five thousand plus, and longs to see each of his sheep fed and cared for. When I have done all I can, given all I have to give, the good shepherd fills me again, invigorating me and pushing me on toward our destination, toward our goal. My Lord cares for more than just my body; he cares for my soul.

He leads me in right paths for his namesake. My Lord, the good shepherd, knows that without his guidance, I would be trapped in the ruts of the pasture. I could not go anywhere new, anywhere healthy and fresh, for all I know is how to continue in sin, searching the bleak, scorched earth for signs of life that have long since been forgotten. Instead of leaving me here to my own devices, instead of allowing me to remain easy prey for the wolf who comes to kill and destroy, the good shepherd leads me on new and right paths, always moving me closer to him, always reminding me of why I place my trust in him. Even when I find that I have deviated greatly from the path, even when I have ventured away from the 99 and am lost in the wilderness, my Lord, the good shepherd, will leave everything to find me and restore me to the right path.

Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I fear no evil; for you are with me; your rod and your staff—they comfort me. No matter how bad things become, no matter how bleak the situation is, I know that the Lord, my good shepherd, will see me through it. Even though demons posses me, even though sight and sound and speech are taken from me, even though I may personally experience the icy hand of death, I know that I am not alone, for the Lord, the good shepherd, is with me. And even more importantly, the Lord has been through all of these dark places already! He has gone ahead of me and knows how treacherous the way will become. And yet I can find solace even in this treacherousness, for I know that the good shepherd is with me and will fight for me if necessary. Nothing can stand up against me, for if the good shepherd is for me, then who could be against me?

You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies; you anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows. Even when I am surrounded by evil, even when the forces of darkness are gathered all around, you care for my every need. I have nothing to fear in you, my good shepherd, for I know that in you deliverance is guaranteed. I can even rejoice in my persecutions, for I know that they lead to perseverance, character, and a hope that will not disappoint. You prepare me for the feast day and honor me with oil, as if I were anything special. You, the Lord, my good shepherd, place me in the highest place, that I might realize your love for me and for all of your creation. You not only care for me, but you hold me as your highest priority.

And because of that, I give all praise to you, my Lord, my good shepherd, and I have faith that in this life and the life to come that you will be with me, that you will guide me, that you will provide for me and that you will love me. For surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever and ever.  Amen.