Stepping Toward Health

Sermon manuscript for Green Lake Church of Seventh-day Adventists

For February 20, 2016

Texts:

Daniel 6:1-10

Matthew 15:29-32

I was at Cypress Adventist School yesterday to do chapel. Every Friday morning they give out awards for miles walked by the lower grade students. One of the kids, Andrew—a second grader or maybe he was in third grade—received an award for walking a total of 50 miles!

How cool is that!

Fitness is part of the culture at Cypress School. And it's not just the kids. Mrs. Mittleider told me about 18-mile walks with her husband, pushing a stroller. And near the end of their walk, when the old dog got tired and they were heading uphill, they had to put the dog in the stroller, too.

When I go running around the lake across the street (Green Lake) I often meet church members doing their own circuits: Sellyna and Unique pushing Chloe in the stroller. Elmo or Heather or Ellen running.

One of the essential elements of Adventist spirituality is the cultivation of health.

The cover article of the latest issue of Outside Magazine is “Five Habits of Healthy Living.” The first habit is eating. The author cites the book, Blue Zones, and writes. The Adventists in Loma Linda, CA, “live up to a decade longer than other Americans and rates of heart disease and cancer are more than 60 percent lower. . . . The Adventist diet . . . resembles what your hyperfit yoga and ultrarunning buddies graze on: lots of fruits and vegetables, small amounts of dairy, smaller amounts of meat, and almost zero added sugar.”

The author wonders how the Adventists in Loma Linda manage to pull this off? How do they manage to resist the allure of fast food and junk food that is endemic in Southern California? Adventists do this, the author concludes, by deliberately creating a society that encourages healthy eating. Even the grocery store in Loma Linda supports healthy eating, the author marvels, by not carrying any meat.

Adventist health in Loma Linda, the author concludes, is, at least partially, the result of positive peer pressure, positive social support.

If we imagine that the point of church is to provide fire insurance—to help people avoid hell—the Adventist advocacy of healthy habits seems misplaced. What do healthy habits have to do with avoiding hell? If the great threat facing humanity is burning in hell forever, why worry about little things like disability, pain and early death? If you believe in eternal hell fire, there is a certain logic to this. But, we don't believe in eternal hell fire. Further, this notion that Christianity is all about some eternal future, good or bad, utterly ignores the ministry of Jesus. Jesus was a healer. He eased the troubles of this world. He fed hungry people. He healed sick people. He even brought the dead back to life. Jesus cared about the quality of life we experience here and now.

In the gospel, healing forms the dramatic core of the story of Jesus. Jesus was a preacher, of course. And across the millennia theologians have developed elaborate metaphysical explanations of the meaning of his life and death. Still, when we go back to the actual words of the gospels, Jesus' ministry of healing formed the grand central motif. His words were built a a platform of prodigious healing. Everywhere he went he healed.

When Jesus sent his disciples—the inner circle of twelve men who were his key assistants and apprentices—when Jesus sent them out on missions of their own. Jesus told them to do what he had been doing.

“Go preach.” He told them. “Announce the kingdom of heaven is at hand. Heal the sick. Cure the lepers. Resurrect the dead. Exorcise the demons. Freely you have received; freely give.” Matthew 10.

The church is the community of Jesus. We are called to live out the mission of Jesus. Central to that mission is the ministry of healing. That's just something we're supposed to do. It's part of our identity.

Part of our ministry of healing is advocacy of healthy habits. Most of us cannot miraculously heal our friends who are sick. We can't all be doctors or nurses or medical technicians. But most of us can cultivate healthy habits. And when we cultivate healthy habits in our lives, we become contagious. We help each other take steps in the direction of optimal health.

Health is not merely an individual thing.

This is demonstrated by what happens here in this neighborhood. Green Lake is a running neighborhood. The Seattle Green Lake Running Group on MeetUp.com has over 5000 members. When I checked their event page yesterday, 97 people had signed up to run around the lake together this morning at seven a.m. Some of those people would run no matter what, but many of them run because other people are running. I run because I read a book about other people who were enjoying running.

This congregation is full of runners. A number of us have run marathons. Some have climbed Mt. Rainier. Some are skiers. We have an entire softball team sitting here every Sabbath. (This is an advertisement. Spring is coming and Ken Fairchild is going to be recruiting.) Every summer, Green Lake Church sponsors a series of Sabbath afternoon hikes ranging from easy strolls to ten mile mountain adventures.

All this movement is contagious. When the tenth or fifteen person tells you about a hike they've taken, you begin thinking maybe I'll take a hike. When you meet other people who walk around Green Lake, you are tempted to think, maybe I could walk around Green Lake.

When several of your friends talk of adopting healthier eating habits, you feel a little social pressure to eat more oranges and fewer donuts.

I've been doing a series of sermons on spiritual disciplines—habits, behaviors we can engage in that consciously bring us into cooperation with God. Behaviors that nourish our souls. One such habit is engaging in behaviors that promote health.

Engaging in habits that promote health is a spiritual practice. It aligns us with the purposes of God. No amount healthy habits will allow us to live forever. All of us get sick. All of us will die. But right now, we are called to live. And healthy habits promotes enjoyment of the life God has given us. Healthy habits nourish the strength we need to serve others.

I was at Starbucks to work on today's sermon. My favorite barista, Sunny, was at the cash register. Another woman, Angie, was waiting the drive through. I said something about seeing both of them on the trail last Sunday. Angie, who is in better shape, said that Sunny was way more regular in her workouts. Which started a conversation about running and fitness.

Sunny had gotten a fit bit or some gizmo like that for Christmas and she had been doing lots of exercise. “I've lost fourteen pounds.” she said with pride. Then added the classic American lament, “But I have a long ways to go.”

She was contrasting her fitness level with that of Angie and me. I protested the comparison was not helpful. I have been running off and on for forty-five years. Sunny has been walking for two months. Obviously, if she compared what she had accomplished in two months with what I had accomplished in 45 years, her accomplishment would appear rather meager. But if she contrasted where she was in November with where she is now, she has made huge leaps in fitness and healthy discipline.

Nearly all of us could imagine some small change we could make in our lives to improve our health. We could park farther from the entrance to stores when we go shopping and walk an extra fifty feet. We could skip the ice cream or eat one scoop instead of two. We could close our computer and leave our desk at lunch time. We could sit in a sweeter, more beautiful place to eat our sandwich. We could eat one more meal a week sitting at our table at home with the entire family. We could go to bed earlier. Drink more water. The options are endless.

One way to view this possibility for improvement, this potential for wise action, is to lament what we haven't done. But I wish we wouldn't do that. I prefer to view it as opportunity. There is still something to do, something to reach for.

I said something off the cuff a few weeks ago that people have said was very helpful. I think it's worth repeating over and over. It applies to health and all the other areas of life where good habits make a big difference: it's better to be inconsistent in doing something than to be consistent in doing nothing. Most of us can think of some ambition, some goal, we could have pursued more faithfully this past week. Oh well. Whatever. That was last week. Now we have this week. Let's aim again at health, at goodness, knowing that God takes great pleasure in the life and efforts of his children.

This coming week, do something to promote health. It will be good for your body and make you a partner with God.

Our Bodies, God's Temples

Sermon manuscript for Green Lake Church of Seventh-day Adventists

Sabbath, July 20, 2013

Last Sabbath after church about thirty Green Lake Church people headed out to Snoqualmie Pass. We parked at a trail head off Exit 54, mounted our bicycles and headed west on the Iron Horse Trail. We rode for 22 miles to Rattlesnake Lake Park. Old people and kids, guys and gals, experienced riders and beginners.

It looked like an ordinary bike ride. People peddling, laughing, talking, swerving, crashing. Quinn riding in his trailer squealing with delight all the way through the two-mile long tunnel. The atheist, observing would have thought it was a one-off excursion, a random event. But then the preacher tells him, “Actually this is one of our secret sacraments.”

The atheist has visited Bahais and Methodists and Baptists. He is familiar with Jehovah's Witnesses and even knows a lot about Scientology. But bicycles are not sacramental vehicles in any of those religions. It's a mystery.

Then on Sunday morning, the atheist is back at Snoqualmie Pass, again with a bunch of Green Lake people. This time, not for a bike ride, but for a run. 26.2 miles, a marathon. The race was organized by Green Lake Church members. Some of the 450 runners were Green Lake people. A number of the volunteers supporting the race were Green Lake people.

You wouldn't blame the atheist if he was puzzled. What's with all this movement? Is exercise part of our religion?

This question is sharpened when you look a little more closely. On the bicycle ride who was at head of the pack? Out in front of the serious Seattle bikers? Ahead of the teenage guys? The minister's wife, peddling like the Energizer Bunny. And on Sunday morning which of the Green Lake Church people were actually running? The head elder and the senior pastor.

So, is exercise really a part of the Adventist religion?

Yes.

Why? Why would a religion that claims to trace its theological and spiritual roots to Jesus make exercise part of its culture?

This question was brought came into sharp focus for me a few weeks ago. I received an email from a pastor in Zimbabwe. He had read one of my sermons that spoke of the centrality of healing in the life of the church. (I think it was “Healing Vision,” December 29, 2012. http://liberaladventist.blogspot.com/2012/12/the-ministry-of-healing.html)

He wanted to know more about my views on healing in the life of the church. After exchanging a few emails, it became clear his primary interest was faith healing. What did I think of it?

The writer is an Adventist evangelist. He wants to do a good job converting people to the Adventist Church. More than that, he wants to be effective as a representative of Jesus. All across Africa, there are preachers drawing crowds of many thousands whose work prominently features faith healing. One church in Nigeria led by a Pentacostal faith healer seats 50,000 people.

I'm not surprised that the Adventist evangelist was fascinated by faith healing. He, too, would like to be able to gather crowds of thousands. Perhaps faith healing was a tool he could use to bring God's word to tens of thousands. What did I think?

I agreed with him that a concern for human well-being should lie at the very center of our life and mission as a church of Jesus. Jesus cared about people—about their down-to-earth, physical needs. In his day, he was more famous for healing than he was for teaching.

Which raises the question: if your goal is to improve the quality of life of your people, what is the best way to do that? If you want to reduce human suffering, if you want to improve people's health and happiness, what will strategy will make the most difference in that direction?

The answer, beyond any dispute, is changing the culture of people to include habits that are conducive to health. In many places in Africa, it would be improving the water supply infrastructure. Unfortunately, all across Africa, people are beginning to suffer from the same kinds of avoidable diseases that haunt us—diabetes, cancer, heart disease, emphysema. It is precisely those kinds of diseases that historic Adventist health rules help to prevent.

Nearly everywhere in Africa, the greatest need is for improved taxation and economic structures. These economic improvements would have a direct impact on nearly every measure of physical health. So, when an Adventist preacher talks to me about healing for Africa, I have a hard time thinking the most effective way to mimic Jesus' concern for people is to practice faith healing.

The example of Jesus' concern for human well-being ought to drive us to address the health habits and social structures which would reduce human suffering and enhance the quality of life.

It is easy to see the changes that need to be made in Africa. It is sometimes harder to see the solutions to problems that lie right under our noses. Something that receives very little attention in most of the acrimonious debate over health care here in our country is the reality that most of us can do something to improve our health, something that doesn't require going to a hospital or doctor's office, something that does not require insurance. We can embrace habits that will improve our health.

Just this week, I saw an article in the Seattle Times about longevity in the U.S. Accompanying the article was a map of longevity broken down by state. It was a haunting picture. It showed the worst conditions of life in the states with the highest percentage of Christian fundamentalists. People who think the essence of religion is merely believing in Jesus, end up living poorly.

From very early in our history, Adventists have made the advocacy of healthy practices a central part of our religion.

This concern for physical health is rooted in a several basic theological convictions.

First, we are creationists. We believe the physical world was willed into existence by God. The physical world is essentially good. Sure, it has been mucked up. It is broken. But it is broken goodness. Adventist spirituality does not dream of escaping the body, but mending the body. We don't imagine our bodies as impediments to spiritual life. Rather our bodies are the very temples of God. They are the tools of righteousness. Righteousness means using our bodies as instruments of compassion, justice, hope and love. (Texts: Genesis 1&2. Creed: Articles 3, 4, 5, 6)

Second, we see the ministry of Jesus as a model for contemporary spiritual life. Just as Jesus cared for the physical well-being of people, so should we. (Matthew 4:23-25; 28:19-20

Third, in our vision of the future, we don't imagine humans freed from their bodies to float like ghosts through eternity. Rather in the Adventist vision of the future, we see people enjoying perfect bodies. (Revelation 21-22)

These various theological convictions stand behind our radical embrace of Paul's statement that our bodies are temples of the Holy Spirit. We regard human bodies as sacred.

Don't you realize that your body is the temple of the Holy Spirit, who lives in you and was given to you by God? You do not belong to yourself for God bought you with a high price. So you must honor God with your body (1 Corinthians 6:19-20)

Which brings us back to the bicycle ride and marathon I mentioned at the beginning of the sermon. People who move tend to enjoy better life than those who don't. Bicycling, hiking, swimming, lifting weights, gardening, yoga, walking the dog—being active improves our quality of life. And when we are active, we influence those around us.

I hope one or two of you may still be wondering why I referred to the bicycle ride last Sabbath as a sacrament.

What is a sacrament? It is an earthly vehicle of the presence and favor of God. Classic Christianity regards the Lord's Supper as a sacrament. When we receive the bread and wine of communion, we are receiving the presence and favor God. Whether the bread and wine are understood as symbols or as magical incarnations, the spiritual meaning is the same: In our eating and drinking God is uniquely present.

Most Christians understand baptism in the same way: In this rite God is present in an extraordinary way.

In addition to the universally recognized sacraments of the Lord's Supper and baptism, Adventists have added our own special sacrament: The Sabbath afternoon walk.

Adventists believe the natural world is God's second book. When we go out to a park on Sabbath afternoon, we are deliberately putting ourselves in a place to experience God through his second book. We expect that the direct encounter of our children with rocks and dirt, flowers and trees, ducks and Stellar's jays will nourish them spiritually.

Further, we have a deep respect for the holy value of physical activity, the cultivation of health. For many of us, going for a walk in the park on Sabbath afternoon is as integral to our Sabbath practice as is going to church or praying.

Last Sabbath, we walked on wheels. Past massive, impressive talus slides. Across burbling, crystal clear creeks. Past giant hemlocks and Doug firs. Under a magnificent sky. I don't think the kids were consciously meditating on the wonders of God the creator as they rode. Probably the adults weren't either. But our conviction as Adventists is that in a natural setting where God's creation is on display, we are touched by God's artistry even when we are not aware. God is at work shaping our souls through the beauty, order, and vitality of nature, quite apart from our recognition. And God is honored through the movement of our bodies in exercise.

For most of classic Christendom—Roman Catholicism and American Protestant Christianity—the primary goal of spirituality is escaping damnation. The big question is, “What must I do to be saved?” Or in more blunt language, “How can I avoid being condemned to hell?” In these spiritualities, damnation is such massive disaster and it is so likely to happen that all other considerations are trivialized. A heart attack is a minor inconvenience. It will merely kill you. Obesity and diabetes are similarly inconsequential. They will merely decrease your quality of life for a few decades. What is that compared to the horrific pain of burning in hell for billions of years.

Adventism, on the other hand, rejects the threat of eternal hell fire. Mature Adventism rejects the notion that we live on the edge of damnation. The Bible uses metaphors for God like Father, shepherd, mother, doctor, mother hen. Without exception the paternal pictures of God used by Jesus pictured the Heavenly Father as compassionate and competent. He will save his children. The Heavenly Shepherd will find his sheep. The mother hen will safely gather her chicks. The divine physician will heal his people. The teacher will successfully instruct his pupils.

We do not live in fear of divine failure. We do not live in fear of divine condemnation.

Instead we live in confidence that God is present with us in our bicycling and running. God is with us on the days we are too tired to move.

I was coached for the marathon on Sunday by Brian Pendleton. He took me out on training runs. He gave me very strict instructions about my pacing. Especially for the first 20 miles of the race, I was to watch the clock and make sure never to exceed 12 minutes a mile.

After I had been running for ten miles or so, I was strongly tempted to ignore Brian's instructions. I was running slowly and easily. I wasn't breathing hard. I wasn't tired. Surely I could run a little faster than Brian said. But, for once, I did as I was told.

Then somewhere between mile 21 and 22 my legs began protesting. It became work. I walked about a quarter of each mile. Then it was the final mile. I caught up with a woman who was walking. She told me she was disappointed in herself. She had been hoping for a faster time, but she had run out of gas. I slowed to walk with her for a few feet, but after she told me this, I said, “Come on. Let's go.”

She picked up her feet and we pushed for the last half mile together.

It's a picture of our life together as a church. We dream together of the pursuit of holiness and health. Sometimes we get so tired we can hardly put one foot in front of the other. That's when it is most important for us to keep each other company. Sometimes we walk together. Sometimes we run together. Sometimes we keep company with a friend who has fallen and cannot run any longer. Whatever our competence and strength or lack thereof, the vital heart of our spiritual life is being together.