What Does It Mean to be Christian?

Sermon manuscript for Sabbath, April 18, 2015 at Green Lake Church

Text: Luke 9

Herod, the ruler appointed by the Roman emperor to govern Judea, had a problem. He had ordered the execution of an immensely popular preacher named John the Baptist. It could have caused significant unrest, but after the execution things seemed to go along smoothly. Then Herod began hearing tales again of a preacher with dazzling charisma.

According to the reports Herod was receiving this new preacher not only preached spell-binding sermons, he also worked miracles, astonishing miracles, unbelievable miracles. Even taking into the account the tendency of peasants to exaggerate the powers of holy men, even if Herod regarded the general populace as hopelessly gullible, the reports commanded attention.

Herod queried his counselors. “What did you make of all these reports? What's going on? I beheaded John the Baptist,” Herod said. “So who is this guy?

Some said they had heard John the Baptist had been raised from the dead. There were rumors that this new preacher was the ancient prophet Elijah risen from the dead as a harbinger of the last days. Other rumors claimed the preacher was some other ancient prophet resurrected.

One really weird thing was that it seemed like this preacher was all over the place. It was like he was showing up in multiple places at once. They would get reports on the same day from places several days to the north and several days to the south. How as this possible? (Remember, in those days top speed of movement was a horse. And as far as we know Jesus didn't have a horse. So his top speed would have been walking.)

The story in the Gospel of Luke (that's one of the short biographies of Jesus in the Bible) leaves Herod wondering, wishing he could actually see this amazing preacher.

It's a fascinating little snap shot. All three of the principle stories of Jesus in the Bible—Matthew, Mark, and Luke mention Herod's perplexity. Did someone in Herod's household become a Christian and pass this story along? Did one of Herod's government ministers? We don't know. But we know the story was widely circulated in the church.

Some of Herod's perplexity was understandable. He was, indeed, getting reports of simultaneous appearances and miracles at places that were many miles apart. And the reason he was getting those reports is that miracles and preaching was, indeed, happening simultaneously at places miles apart.

To make sense of these appearances, we have to back a bit in the story.

The lead up to this scene in the royal palace where Herod is trying to figure out the who and what of this sudden new outbreak of preaching fervor begins a week or two earlier.

We can begin with the story of Jesus out in a boat with his disciples. They were crossing the Sea of Galilee at night. A huge storm came up and threatened to swamp the boat. The disciples were terrified they are going to drown. While all this went on Jesus was sound asleep in the back of the boat. The disciples shook him awake. “Master! Wake up! We're going to sink.”

Jesus stood up in the boat and spoke directly to the storm. “Be still. Be calm.” The winds quieted. The waves relaxed. The disciples stared at Jesus with drop-jawed amazement. Hours later, they came ashore in a wild area and were met on the beach by a raving maniac, a man screaming and gesticulating, clearly possessed by demons. Jesus ordered the demons out of the man. The demons left and the man who had been banished from society became suddenly calm and responsive.

Again, the disciples were astonished. Of course. Who wouldn't be?

A day or two later Jesus was back in Capernaum. In an afternoon, Jesus healed a woman of a bleeding problem that had persisted for 12 years despite every possible medical intervention. Then Jesus raised a 12-year old daughter back to life.

Miracle after wonder after astonishing demonstration. So of course reports of Jesus' ministry had reached the royal palace. But it was not this series of wonders and miracles performed personally by Jesus that got the attention of King Herod. What created the stir that rippled even into the royal palace was what happened next.

Jesus called twelve of his helpers to a meeting and commissioned them to head out into the countryside and replicate what they had seen him do.

They were to preach the gospel, heal the sick and rescue people from demons.

And they departed, and went through the towns, preaching the gospel, and healing every where. Luke 9:6

Jesus had been drawing crowds of thousands. Now Jesus—in the person of his disciples—was drawing many times that many people. Miracles were happening all over the region of Galilee. It was this explosion of “Jesuses” all over Galilee that provoked the conversation in the royal palace.

What does it mean to be a Christian?

In the sixties and seventies, conservative Protestants decided that the label Christian applied only to people who held certain specific interpretations of the Bible. They wrote books and articles insisting that Mormons and Jehovah's Witnesses were not Christians because those groups had some different ideas about the nature of Christ and the meaning of the crucifixion among other things. Adventists got caught up in this debate and we worked really hard to prove that we were really Christian. And by “Christian” we meant the philosophical/theological definition of conservative Protestantism.

More recently, there has been intense argument in some circles about perspectives called “The Emerging Church.” Again, conservative Protestants and conservative Adventists have tried to argue those people are not really Christian because they have some ideas that contradict traditional Christian theories.

I am a bit amused by all this emphasis on theological definitions. In our Scripture reading this morning we see what being Christian means. A Christian is someone who does what Jesus did.

Jesus does not invite his disciples to sit in a circle around him and endlessly watch and wonder. Jesus has them watch and wonder for awhile. Then Jesus sends them off. Go, do what you have seen me do.

This is what it means to be a Christian. Do what Jesus did.

Now, some of you will make the obvious protest: We can't do what Jesus did. We cannot heal the sick with a word or touch. We cannot banish demons with simple commands. We have never been able to raise the dead.

My question is what are we doing with what we have?

This week Dan Price, CEO of Gravity Payments made headlines with his announcement that he was going to do something about the crazy disparity between the wages received by workers and the CEOs who profit from their work. Price announced that over the next three years he was going to raise the pay of his employees until everyone in the firm made at least 70,000 a year.

Mr. Price has not cured AIDS. He has not eliminated cancer from the world. But he has taken concrete action to increase human happiness and well-being. He's making it possible for his employees to afford to live in Seattle.

It seems to me that is in line with what Jesus called his disciples to do.

People who are working to raise the pay received by the little people, the hidden people, people who clean bathrooms, make our burritos, care for little children—these people are moving in the direction Jesus called his disciples to go.

When people devote themselves to care-giving, to the care of children, the disabled, elderly and feeble spouses—they are moving in the direction mapped out by Jesus for his disciples.

We are called to preach the gospel. What does that mean? The gospel is the good news that God is for us, not against us. God's aim is reconciliation not obliteration. God's plan is restoration not shame and condemnation.

We preach this. We live this. This is our calling as disciples of Jesus.

When we deeply appreciate that this is God's desire, this is God's ambition for the world, then our calling becomes clear. We are to use the tools available to us—brains, citizenship, culture, education, talent, good looks, family connections—to cooperate with God in spreading healing and hope.

The story ends with the disciples returning from their mission of preaching and healing and sitting with Jesus to share their stories. The meeting gets interrupted by people needing continued help, still it is a bight picture. Jesus invites us to be heroes of goodness, then come together ad celebrate the good stuff that happened.

In the Book of Revelation, the grand finale of human history is pictured as people gathered around the heavenly table, telling stories of the adventures of goodness. What does it mean to be Christian? At least one meaning is our deliberate preparation to share stories of our adventures cooperating with God in fixing the world.

He Is Risen

Sermon manuscript for Sabbath, April 4, 2015

at Green Lake Church, Seattle.

Texts:  Isaiah 11:1-9, Luke 23:50-24:11

Thursday morning, before dawn, I was at my usual spot on the west side of Green Lake watching for the dawn. The sky dark because the sun was still below the horizon. Further darkening the gloom were thick clouds and a pouring rain. Not the standard Seattle mist and drizzle. This was real rain. Great drops dimpling the surface of the lake in front of me. I could feel water running down my rain pants into my shoes. I was tempted to bail, get back on my bicycle and finish my morning prayers in the warm comfort of my office. But I knew I was going to preach today about waiting and hope, so I had to stick it out.

One of the many privileges I enjoy as a pastor is being paid to watch for the dawn. Every morning you pay me to take my seat in the darkness and watch the sunrise. Some mornings, all that happens is the black-gray sky becomes a little less dark. Night time becomes day time, sort of. Thursday, sitting there in the rain under a lead-gray sky, I wondered, will the sun really rise? Will it break through?

I rehearsed the words of blessing: Grace and peace. I prayed grace and peace for the people who came to my mind, friends dealing with cancer, job loss, loneliness, unfulfilled desires for their children, grief. I recalled people I met at Aurora Commons facing homelessness because their Taco Bell wages don't equal rent. People dealing with various forms of mental illness.

I sat in the darkness with my friends and God, praying grace and peace.

Then it happened. The sun pierced the clouds. Spangles of light rippled across the lake. Blue sky spread. The darkness was gone.

I pulled out my phone and took a few pictures, climbed on my bike and headed into my day.

It's my job to watch for the dawn.

Yes, darkness happens. Sometimes, here in the Northwest, the gloom is so oppressive that there is a clinical term for its effect: Seasonal affective disorder. But the light is coming.

Most people are too cumbered with obligations to give their full attention to the sunrise. Getting the kids ready for school, getting yourself to the office on time, those are inescapable duties. Perhaps by the time the sun wakes up, you're already behind the pharmacy counter at the back of Safeway or deep in a Boeing plant miles from the nearest window. And even if there were a window nearby, you are not paid to gaze out the window. So, every morning, I watch and bear witness to the light.

In a larger sense, this is the calling of the church. We watch for the dawning of the light. We are called to be celebrants of the light. Our annual celebrations of Christmas and Easter are celebrations of the light.

Yes, darkness happens. There is drought in California and ISIS in the Middle East. Our friends are dealing with cancer and we are mourning the loss of loved ones. So, we come to church and remind ourselves and the world: He is risen. The last word is not death but resurrection. Not defeat but the triumph of goodness.

He is risen. He is risen, indeed.

The heart of our religion is not a tomb. It is not a crucifix or the crucifixion. Those things are reminders that good life, even the best life, includes heart break and disappointment, injustice and failure. Darkness happens. Evil happens. Murders and mayhem, war and disaster wreak havoc. But the final word of our faith, the ultimate word, is resurrection. New life.

He is risen. He is risen, indeed.

In the Gospel of Luke we read that late Friday after Jesus had died, a rich man named Joseph went to Pilate and asked for the body of Jesus.

Ordinarily, the bodies of people who were condemned to crucifixion were discarded in the garbage dump. But Joseph requested the Roman governor to allow him to provide a proper burial for Jesus. If we were watching the movie, we would feel the tension accompanying the request. We would be hoping with Joseph that Pilate would grant the request. We would have already watched Pilate cave in to the demands of the mob and condemn Jesus to death even though he knew Jesus' accusers were lying through their teeth.

Knowing that Pilate is a weak man and maybe an evil man, we expect him to say no. But we also see Joseph's obvious status. Joseph is used to hearing yes.

So how is it going to play out? Yes or no? Is Pilate going to bend to the blood thirst of the high priest or the goodness and political clout of Joseph. Will Pilate grant Joseph Jesus' body?

Joseph wins. Pilate says yes.

A large group of women was present at the cross. They watched men wrap Jesus in a burial shroud provided by Joseph. They followed the men as they carried Jesus to the tomb. They saw Jesus placed in the new tomb, a room carved into a limestone outcrop. Then, since it was about sundown, they headed home.

The darkness was complete. Goodness had been smashed. Evil had triumphed.

Early Sunday morning the women headed back to the tomb. One way we cope with death is to say a proper farewell. Grief is the inescapable cost of love, and expressing our grief is part of continuing to love the one who is gone. The women were heartbroken at Jesus' death. Unlike the men who were still hiding in their upper room worried about whether they would be next in line to be arrested, the woman cared only about saying a proper farewell.

Part of Jewish custom was to pack the body with spices. There had been no time to accomplish this on Friday, so at first light on Sunday, the women headed out with their spices to show final honor to the man who had been their hero.

When they arrived at the tomb, to their astonishment, the tomb was open. The great stone which had closed the entry was rolled to the side.

Cautiously, they peeked inside. Nothing. They stepped inside for a closer look. No, Jesus was not there. They clustered together, jabbering, questioning each other, wondering, when suddenly two men in dazzling garments were standing there with them. Angels or gods? Magicians?

Startled, terrified, the women fell on their faces to pay obeisance to these supernatural beings.

Then the men spoke. “Why are you looking for Jesus here?” they asked. “This is a cemetery.”

Which reveals a certain divine sense of humor. Why were the women looking for Jesus HERE? Because this is where they last saw him. They had watched Joseph and the other men place Jesus in this very tomb late Friday afternoon. So, of course, they looked for him here.

“Why are you looking for the living among the dead?” the angels asked. Again, a bit of divine humor until we realize it's a rhetorical question. Then just in case the women did not understand, the angel said, “He is not here. He is risen.

“Don't you remember?” the angel continued. “Remember what he told you while he was still up north in Galilee? Remember how he said he was going to be delivered into the hands of sinful men and be crucified and on the third day rise again. Don't you remember?”

As the reality of the empty tomb and the angel's words sank in, the women did remember. They jumped to their feet jabbering, laughing, hugging each other. “He's not dead. He's alive! Let's go tell the guys.”

They ran back to the city, to the room where Peter and John and the other guys were hanging out.

“Jesus is alive!” the women shouted. “We were at the tomb. It's open and empty. We saw angels. They told us Jesus is alive. Don't you remember what he said when we were still in Galilee? That he was going to be arrested and crucified and would rise again on the third day? Don't you remember?”

The men did not remember. They did not believe. Though I will give them this: Peter and John did not dismiss what the women said. It was unbelievable, of course. Who ever heard of the dead rising from the grave? Still, Peter and John raced off for the tomb to check it out. That's something.

It turned out the women were correct. The tomb was empty. Jesus was gone. And not just gone. Jesus was risen. The last word was not crucifixion. The last word was not burial. The final word was not grief but celebration. He's alive.

He is risen. He is risen, indeed.

This is heart of our religion. God's last word is resurrection. God's loudest word is resurrection.

It's easy to obsess over the darkness. When you're sitting in the dark and the rain is pouring down, dawn seems impossible or at least improbably remote.

Our calling as devotees of Jesus is to keep watching for the dawn. Don't study the darkness. Let's not become experts in human failure. Let's make sure our greatest expertise is the cultivation of hope. Let's master the skills of healing and creating, making and building, soothing and feeding. That's the call of the resurrection.

One of the deepest truths that flow from the resurrection, maybe the most challenging of all the teachings of Jesus, is this: God's final word is not death, but resurrection, restoration, reconciliation, mending the world, making things new.

When we become aware of human evil, human brokenness, human failure, where does our imagination take us? Do we imagine that the remedy is death.

When we hear of a murder, we want someone killed. We hear about the chaos, heart-break, injustice, cruelty in Syria, we are tempted to imagine the wise response is bombs and drones and missiles and Special Forces. Some of us are tempted to imagine the remedy for deadly ideologies is more death—death administered by the United States instead of by President Assad or ISIS or one of the dozens of local militias? It's tempting to imagine that killing is the path to peace.

What is God's imagination in response to the deadly chaos of the Middle East? Resurrection. New life. People healed and made righteous. God does not dream of obliterating the people in the Middle East. God dreams of healing.

As devotees of Jesus we are called back again and again to the resurrection. We are invited to meditate on God's response to deadliness and death—resurrection.

Let me apply this closer home. Have you ever hurt someone else? Have you blundered in ways that left you crippled with guilt and shame? Do you find yourself wondering if God wishes you would go away? Do think God's response to your failure is eradication? Annihilation? Do you imagine God is as scornful of your failure as you are or your ex-wife is or you children are or your parents are?

Please hear the message of the resurrection: God's response to human failure—your failure, your parents' failure, your spouse's failure—God's response to failure, no matter how grievous, is resurrection.

To echo the words of our OT reading, when God looks at the problem of lions eating lambs, his remedy is the transformation of lions, not a program of eradication. When God sees the problem of cobras biting children, God does not get rid of the snakes, he transforms them into friends of children. When God sees your capacity for doing harm, when God reviews your actual track record of doing harm, God does not imagine a future without you. God imagines a future where you are restored to the full glory God intended in creation. God dreams of resurrection for you.

This is the message of the Gospel of Luke: He is risen. And with him, we are risen.

He is risen.

He is risen, indeed.

Free Loaders

Yesterday, while I was at Aurora Commons, one of the staff there introduced me to Dianne, a mother who needed assistance. Dianne and her eldest daughter both work at Taco Bell. Two people, working at Taco Bell, cannot earn enough money to pay rent, buy food and clothes, and otherwise fund the American dream for a family of five. Could Green Lake Church help?

I said we could help with a couple of nights stay at a neighborhood motel, but we were unable to help with the real need which was permanent, affordable housing. So we did what we could. We paid for a couple of nights off the street.

Dianne is a typical free loader. Instead of working as a nurse or doctor and earning a decent income, she chooses to work at Taco Bell which pays peanuts. Instead of staying thoroughly single, she chose to encumber herself with four children. (Of course, she had these kids all by herself through the miracle of the virgin birth,)

I, on the other hand, am the perfect example of someone who has earned everything I enjoy, like the view from my office window, pictured above. I've worked hard for 35 years as a minister and my reward is a very nice job at a very nice church in a very nice neighborhood.

I began my hard work with the selection of my parents. I carefully picked a dad and mom who could give me maximum advantages of DNA and culture--intelligence and physical vigor and math and language aptitude, early and intense exposure to a huge vocabulary and books, easy access to graduate education, a model of disciplined pursuit of goals and high moral standards. If I had not so smart in picking my parents who knows where I would have ended up. But since I was that smart and careful, I figure I've earned all the benefits that come from having smart, moral, wealthy parents.

It is also speaks highly of my capacity to manage my life that I chose to be born into a denomination that reinforced my family of origin values of education, curiosity and suspicion of authority.

It was, of course, my perspicacity that brought into my life a woman who has been a superlative minister's wife, admirable mother, and perfect role model of compassion. I get full credit for all the benefits she brings into my life.

Then there is the neighborhood I constructed around the Green Lake Church. I dug that lake you see in the background in the picture. I built the houses and created the wealth that suffuses the surrounding neighborhood with the easy charm of old houses, mature landscaping and streets strewn with fallen petals. I planted the flowering trees you see in the picture above and have pruned them every year for the last 40 years. (Just in case someone misses the joke, I've been in Seattle for 2 years.) Then, to top it all off, I created the big light in the sky to properly light my creation.

So when I look out my office window or walk around the Green Lake neighborhood, I congratulate myself on the Great Babylon I have built. I thank God I am not like Dianne and those other freeloaders who need the help of the church or the government.



[Not everyone who reads my blog knows me personally. And for some, English is a second or third language. So, just in case it is not obvious: This entire post is satire. The actually meaning is the opposite of the apparent meaning. My entire life is a gift from God and from other people.]