It’s Not About Us

John 6:1-15

The story I’m about to tell you is just a story, the words are mine but the message comes through the guidance of God’s Holy Spirit.

Johnny’s mother stood in the kitchen, looking out the small window above the sink, waiting for the school bus to bring her son home. She worried so much about Johnny; he wasn’t like most kids his age. In fact, he’s what the teachers in his school called special, a person with limited bur promising abilities.

Those teachers were a lot nicer than the neighborhood kids who had other names for Johnny, and a lot nicer than the neighborhood parents who simply called their kids away from Johnny whenever he went outside to play. None of those things seemed to bother the young boy, as he went through each and every moment of his day smiling, laughing, playing and learning with the curiosity a 10-year old boy should have.

For that, his ability to find goodness in all things, Johnny’s mother was most proud. Still, though, she worried that he may grow up without knowing what true friendship was, or worse – not knowing what true love is. Her heart began to get that gnawing pain she’s become accustomed to just as the sound of a school bus echoed from down the street.

That sound always had a way of filling her with happiness. Her son was almost home. Soon he would be rushing through those doors with the brightest, most genuine smile a boy could have. That was honestly the highlight of her day, when Johnny came home.

The school bus stopped in view of that small kitchen window. She watched as the kids got off the bus and run towards their own homes, high-fiving one another as they laughed at each other’s jokes, or walking with their bodies hunched closely together as they told those secrets kids their age had.

Johnny was always the last one off the bus and he didn’t join in with the laughs, high-fives, or secret-telling. That fact stopped bothering his mother a couple years ago when she realized that every time he stepped off the bus he had a smile that brightened the sky a little more and a look of pure wonder in his eyes as he caught a glimpse of the birds singing in the trees or the flutter of a butterfly’s wings.

It was in those eyes Johnny’s mother found the strength and courage to get through each day.

Today was a little different, though. Johnny came out of the bus full of excitement. He clumsily leaped from the top step onto the ground, almost falling, which at first startled his mom, but soon enough made her laugh softly. He didn’t stop to admire the birds, or feel the wind, or even notice the new flowers she planted in the yard. Instead he ran as fast as he could towards the house, his little feet trying desperately to keep up with his chubby little body.

The front door flung open as Johnny pushed his way through. His exuberance was obvious as he tossed his bag aside and yelled out to his mom, “I have to get started right away!” then ran down the hall to his room. His mother could do nothing but stand there in absolute silence before finally getting her feet to move in the direction of her son’s room.

Standing in the doorway she could hardly believe what she saw. Johnny had taken every crayon, colored pencil, and scrap of construction paper out of his art supply drawer and spread them across his bedroom floor.

“Mom,” Johnny called out, “I need more supplies, I need more paper, I need more colors.”

“What for?” she inquired.

Johnny explained quickly and with so much excitement in his voice that the only words she could make out were Valentine’s Day, make cards, whole class. When she finally calmed him down enough she found out that the teacher had given the class an assignment to celebrate Valentine’s Day. They were to make cards to say how much they appreciated the others in the class and bring them to school on the holiday.

At first Johnny’s mother smiled. Then, just as quickly, her stomach sank with that feeling she sometimes gets – she was afraid that nobody would give her son a card. She thought about having a talk with him about how some people may not return the gift of appreciation he was offering, but all she saw whenever she looked at his face was pure joy; the kind of joy nobody should ever take away.

 She helped Johnny make a list of everyone he wanted to give a card to. He told her there were many people he wanted to let know they were appreciated. The list grew long as not only every one of his classmates was on it, but so was his 5^th grade teacher as well as his 4^th, 3^rd, 2^nd, 1^st, and Kindergarten teachers as well. There was the principal as well as the assistant principal. He wanted to be sure to include the nice lady that sits in the office who always said hi to him. Johnny even wanted to let the janitor know he was appreciated for all of his hard work.

When all was said and done there were almost 40 people for whom Johnny had to make cards. His mom realized there was nowhere enough material on the floor to make that many cards, so they went to the store to pick up what Johnny needed. He was sure to get the colors of construction paper he knew some people liked as their favorite color. He made sure to get stickers that said things like “thank you” or “for a friend” on them.

For the next 2 weeks Johnny and his mom worked on those cards. They laughed as they talked about the funny things which took place in school that day. They shared special secrets that a son and his mom could only share. They thought really hard about different ways each person was appreciated. “I appreciate how you smile at me during lunch” said one card. “I appreciate how you told that boy to leave me alone” said another. “I appreciate the funny jokes you tell on the bus” said yet another.

It was amazing to Johnny’s mom that no 2 cards had the same message. It was as though Johnny was working extra hard to be sure each message and each card was as unique as the relationship Johnny had with those to whom the card was going to be given.

Johnny’s mom couldn’t help but cry herself to sleep every night during those 2 weeks, knowing that when Valentine’s Day came around Johnny’s world view would be shattered. While Johnny thought about all his friends and how to show his appreciation for them, she knew that nobody would think enough of Johnny to give him a card.

Valentine’s Day had finally come. Johnny was up before his mom and excitedly ran into her room. “It’s today, mom. It’s today!”

Johnny had carefully placed all of his cards into his backpack the night before, being careful to not bend the corners or crease the edges. He sat at the breakfast table with that backpack already on his back, as though he wanted to be sure to keep guard so nothing could happen to it.

He ate his oatmeal and bananas very quickly, not wanting to waste any time so that he would be at the bus stop when the bus came. He had to be reminded to clean up after himself – wash his hands, put the dishes in the sink – thing he normally did on his own. His mother could see that there would be no getting through to him this morning, Johnny was just too excited.

He did what his mother asked and ran out the door, forgetting to kiss his mother goodbye. All she could do was shake her head while a big smile filled her face. She was happy for her son, she was filled with the same joy he was. She also knew that she had to prepare for the end of the day, when Johnny would be coming off that bus.

Lunch came around and Johnny’s mother had something small to eat as she was nervous to her stomach. She tried to distract herself by cleaning and gardening, but nothing seemed to work. So she decided that after lunch she would sit down with her bible.

She was currently reading the Gospel of John. She found the stories in that book to be engaging. She had taken a bible study class in church where she learned about the community of John and how they lived in a time of terrible persecution for Christians. She had learned that the book of John was written specifically for Christians so they could place the focus of their lives on the teachings of Jesus. She found it comforting to be a Christian and know that the Johannine community found peace by centering their lives on Jesus, just as she was about to do.

She opened the Bible to where she had left off and read the story of Jesus feeding the multitudes. She thought it interesting that Jesus was really looking for some peace and quiet when he was suddenly disrupted by a large crowd of people. But, if she had to be honest, she had heard this story so many times that she brushed over it, her mind drifting once again to her son.

Her thoughts came back to the story when that little voice inside her said, “You might know what Jesus did, but do you know why?”

This made her read more closely. Unlike other accounts of this story from the other Gospels this one did not say Jesus had compassion for the crowd. It didn’t give a reason as to why Jesus wanted the crowd fed. Sure, there was the little boy, and the disciples questioning of Jesus’ motives, but that one piece was missing. What was John trying to say?

She had remembered from the bible study that the Johannine community thought it was important to get one particular message through; the way into God’s favor went through Jesus Christ and his teaching that we must all love God, love one another, and love ourselves.

To the Johannine, the feeding of the 5000 wasn’t about what Jesus could do, or the greatness of Jesus. To the Johannine the feeding of the 5000 was about Jesus showing the way to God.

With that in her mind Johnny’s mother came across the verse which said, “When Jesus realized that they were about to come and take him by force to make him king, he withdrew again to the mountain by himself.” and realized that she had been looking at this story all wrong. Jesus himself had to run away from those who tried to make it about him. Jesus had no intent on becoming king because Jesus knew there was already a king: God

She had lost track of time and saw on the clock that the bus would soon be here. She had meant to do so much more. She wanted to bake cookies for Johnny, she wanted to make sure his favorite books were nearby, she wanted to wear that pretty blue dress that always made him smile and tell her she was pretty.

She had wanted to make sure that when Johnny came home he would be able to find happiness.

She looked through the small kitchen window as she heard the bus echoing down the street. The bus stopped right in front of that window, and as usual she watched as kids got off the bus with their high-fives and secret telling. She saw a few of them run home with colorful construction paper in their hands, yelling, “Mom, look what I got.”

Also as usual, Johnny was the last one off the bus. Her eyes could barely watch as he moved a little slower, his shoulders slumped and his head down as he shuffle-walked towards their home. She noticed his backpack was open and empty. He wasn’t holding any colorful pieces of construction paper in his hand.

The door opened slowly as he tried to push it. He looked weak and tired, as though every ounce of energy had been taken from his body. She walked towards him and gave him the kind of hug mother’s give their children when they don’t know how else to fix their pain. She was on her knees when she placed her hand under his chin, and lifting his head so their eyes met she asked him how his day was. No sooner did the question come out did she feel her heart drop and tears form in her eyes.

He simply looked up, locked his eyes onto hers, smiled that joyous smile he is known for, and said, “I didn’t miss anyone, mom. I told them all how much I appreciated them.”

As her tears of heartbreak turned into tears of pure happiness a knock came to the front door. It was the neighbor and her daughter. Johnny’s mom opened the door, trying her best to wipe the tears from her eyes and look presentable. The little girl walked into the home and brought out from behind her back a card made of blue construction paper with red hearts. She handed it to Johnny and in a small, still voice said, “I want you to know I appreciate you too.”

God is with us all.   Amen.

One Foundation, One Cornerstone

Ephesians 2:11-22

One of the classes we had in seminary dealt with ethical issues from a religious viewpoint – how would we, as Christians, respond to different ethical situations locally as well as around the world. It was an interesting class, not only because we faced real-life situations, but also because we were able to listen to and discuss the different situations from several points-of-view.

The class started out with simpler issues such as how we respond to different styles of raising our children. For instance, a child has just learned how to crawl and is doing so on the living room floor. Her parents are in the room, as well as a few other adults. Other children are present as well, ranging in age from newborn to 4 years old.

The crawling child sees a butter knife lying on the ground and picks it up. The adults in the room, including her parents, decide that there really isn’t too much damage a butter knife can do to a crawling child so they let it go, but keep a watchful eye on her anyway.

The child, with the knife in hand, begins crawling towards a wall which has an open electrical socket. You notice nobody in the room makes a move towards the child, even as it gets right next to the wall socket, still with the butter knife in hand.

What do you do?

Let me see a show of hands. How many in the room would have stopped that child a long time ago, as soon as she picked up the butter knife? How many would have stopped the child while she still had the butter knife in hand and it became obvious she was headed to an electrical socket? How many would have done what the other adults in that room were doing and did nothing up to this point?

Remember, I said this was a simpler issue, but I can honestly say the discussion of what to do and when to do it took 30 minutes and would have gone longer if the instructor let it. The debate didn’t get heated as much as it could have, but it was clear there were 2 distinct sides: take away the butter knife before the child reached the wall, and leave the child alone. While both sides could understand why the other stood firm in their point-of-view, neither side budged in accepting the other’s solution.

Then it got interesting. After that half hour discussion/debate the instructor said, “Now imagine that this issue was splitting your church. What would you do?”

The room got quiet, really quiet. Then, a student who was on the “take away the butter knife” side raised his hand. The instructor asked if he had a question. “Yes”, said the student, “I want to know why they wouldn’t take away the knife from the child, even though they know there’s a chance the child can hurt herself or worse, stick that knife in the socket and get electrocuted?”

It would seem that during the entire debate nobody had thought to ask the simplest question of the other side – Why? Sure, the reasons were given, but still, nobody asked . They were just given

Someone on the “leave the child alone” side simply said, “Because the child hasn’t done anything to harm herself or others, not yet anyway.” To which she added, “If it became apparent that the child was going to absolutely put the knife in the socket, or in any other way harm herself or others, an adult in the room would intercede.”

The question remained, though. Why? The answer wanted to be understood at the root level.

Someone else said, “Because when our people, the indigenous people, raise their children we prefer that they explore all avenues which lead to making their own decisions from as young an age as possible. So far the child’s decisions weren’t harmful, so her decisions were deemed correct. If she had actually raised the knife and made a movement to place it in the socket, every adult in that room would react and remove the knife from her hand and her parent would, in some way, discipline her.”

It was then we looked around the room to see who was on what side. The westerners, those who lived and thought in a more western way, were on the “take it away” side, while the indigenous people were on the “leave her alone” side. The entire class had just been given a lesson on learning to respect the ways of the people with whom you reside or visit.

We had also been given a lesson on asking the “why” question. Because after the answer was given, both sides found it easier to accept the other’s point-of-view and while some people still couldn’t fully agree with it, at least a way to move forward was found.

The wall which separated the 2 sides had begun to come down. This is what the hopes for the church in Ephesus were as well, that the wall which was keeping the Gentiles and Jews from working together could find its way to be broken down so the church could move forward.

Moving forward is a very important thing for a church, but it can sometimes be difficult. Using my example from seminary, we had to each write a short response and solution to how we would allow the situation of the child and the electrical socket keep us together. Right down to the last written response everyone agreed that we would need to first decide what the church would look like on the other side of that argument – what the end goal was – then we all decided to continue to be in conversation until an agreement could be reached.

Also right down to the last written response was the fact that as a church we needed to be sure to ground our conversations, actions, and results in what we believed to be where Jesus Christ was leading us. It was Jesus Christ who brought us together, it is in Jesus Christ we must build upon. Jesus Christ is and will always be the cornerstone with which we continue to build the church.

Then the instructor posed another discussion point: If Jesus Christ is to be our cornerstone, what then is our foundation?

Again we sat in a silent room. Until a voice came from one of the indigenous elders, who had a small chuckle before saying, “Guys, isn’t it obvious – God is the foundation of all things.”

The class laughed, not so much because the elder was funny, but because the elder was right. We were thinking too hard to see what was right in front of us – God is indeed the foundation for all things.

By the end of that first class, almost 3 hours later, we had begun to understand that Christian ethics doesn’t lie in concrete black and white. Rather, Christian ethics lies in the respect we show for one another in all that we say and do, and that when we put our words and actions into motion they come from a place of love that is fully accepting of one another, regardless of our own beliefs.

We were reminded that one of the more intimate moments in the bible is when God walks through the garden in search of humanity. Unfortunately, that intimacy was shattered because humanity had other ideas. Imagine, we were told, if when God had found humanity in that garden we had put God’s wishes before ours. God wants an intimate relationship with us, even when we try to hide as did man and woman when they were naked. Whether or not we allow this intimacy to happen is up to us.

Will we, can we, put God’s wishes before ours so God will find us as a loving people? Will we, can we build on the examples of Jesus’ teachings about loving God with our entire being and loving each other and ourselves in the same way?

Or are the powers of self-realization before another’s well-being the driving force with which we continue to move forward?

The ethical situations in class got more difficult each day, and each day we found ourselves taking sides and arguing our positions. We also found ourselves learning to listen more, ask questions to understand more, and find common ground in which we can agree that the decisions being made were in the best interest of what God would want and based in the teachings of Jesus Christ.

The final day of class had come and with it the most difficult situation of the entire week. This time, however, the class would be different. Instead of open discussions and the opportunity to ask questions, we had to write a short paper based only on the story we were told. In this paper we were asked to reach a conclusion as to what was the best way to move forward. I never had a more anxious time writing a responsive paper in my life.

In the 1960’s, archaeologists came across a tribe of people known as the Luba who lived in the Congo region of Africa. These were very primitive people and had never seen an outsider before. They welcomed the archaeologists into their villages and taught them their languages and customs; things archaeologists truly love learning.

The religious beliefs of the Luba were pagan, of course, and they had many gods to which they prayed and gave tribute to. As it is with most ancient tribes there was a god for just about every aspect of life. There was a god of human fertility, for the planting of crops, for the first harvests, and for the weather.

The archaeologists learned that the Luba were very religious people and attributed their well-being to keeping their gods happy. It would seem that for many centuries the Luba lived in peace and harmony, fearing no evil spirit could ever take hold of them.

Then, one day while the archaeologists were observing the birth of a child, something they will never forget happened. The child was born with a physical defect, which immediately brought true and deep fear into the village. The local religious leader, similar to what the Native Americans might call a medicine man or the Hawaiians would call a kahuna, was called into the birthing hut, where he immediately took the child.

A few of the archaeologists followed the medicine man and observed as he occasionally held the child high into the air, chanting as he continued to move into the forest. As they moved further away from the village they could hear the running water of a stream or a river. The kahuna moved towards the sound of the water and it became obvious they were headed towards that river or stream.

A clearing in the trees stood before them, and as they approached what they could now see was a deep, fast-running river the medicine man stopped, held the newborn child high above his head, chanted some words they could not understand, and before anyone knew what was going to happen the religious leader of that Luba tribe tossed the child into the waters.

The archaeologists stood there, shocked, unable to do anything but watch as the newborn child disappeared into the whitewater of the river as it pushed against the protruding rocks.

When they got back they were angry, and told the chief that what he allowed to be done was horrific and repulsive, and they would be letting the Congan authorities know what had just happened.  The archaeologists decided to pack their things and get out of that village as soon as they could, refusing to partake any further in the shocking practices of what was obviously a primitive and savage group of humans.

As they were packing up, one of them asked the woman who had just given birth how she could have let them do what they did to her child. It was explained to her that even though a child is deformed it still has value in society.

The woman explained that what was done had to be done for the safety and security of her people. She told the story of how a thousand years ago such a child was born into their village and for the entirety of that child’s life nothing but evil happened to their people. There were unexplained deaths and disappearances of loved ones, famine as the crops withered in drought conditions, the livestock and animals which were hunted all but died of disease. Her people suffered death because of such a child being allowed to live among them.

It was the Luba’s long-held belief that the only way to ensure an evil spirit could never again bring destruction into their village was to give the deformed child to the gods to do with as was needed. For the thousand years since they had this practice, no such evil force had taken root and the Luba lived in peace and harmony with one another and with their gods.

How would you move forward?

God is with us always.  Amen

Don’t Tell Us What To Do

Amos 7:1-8:3

Ann and I usually clean our house about mid-morning on Saturday’s. She’ll do the bathrooms, upstairs vacuuming, and downstairs mopping while I wash clothes and do the downstairs vacuuming. It’s the fairest way we’ve found to divide the duties.

Once we get started we don’t usually like to stop until the work is done. So we try to stay out of each other’s way while at the same time support what the other is doing. So, when things come up, such as I’ve been waiting for a response to an email I sent earlier and my phone alerts me to a message which came in, sometimes I have to ask her to get my phone for me because she’s closer. Sometimes it puts an unwanted pause or interruption in our rhythm.

Because we like to help each other, though, she’ll stop what she’s doing and get the phone. On rare occasions the interruptions become more frequent. She asks me to get a new soap dispenser for the Swiffer, I ask her to take a sheet to the washer, she asks me to make sure I wash the couch covers, I ask her to grab me a drink of water.

It’s on those occasions one of us will eventually say, “Stop telling me what to do.” We don’t mean it, because we’re just good to each other that way, but it is our way of saying I’m busy too.

It’s also our own little way of saying, “You can do these things yourself, so go do it.”

The truth is that sometimes it’s just easier to ask someone else to do it. I know I can get my own glass of water, I just choose to let the other things I’m doing become more important. The other truth is that sometimes I just don’t like being told what to do, or what not to do, if I think it’s going to disrupt my life.

To a certain degree I think we’re all that way. Sometimes we just don’t like being told what to do.

As followers of Christ, though, we recognize that there are times when we’ll be told what to do by the still, small voice of God. As much as we might want to choose not to do that which we are being called to do, when God wants us to do something chances are we’re going to do it.

This is where Amos finds himself in today’s passage.

The Book of Amos is told from a narrator’s point-of-view. But here, in chapter 7, we suddenly see the use of a first person writing style when Amos says, “This is what the Lord God showed me.” Nobody has figured out why the writing style has changed, but when something like this happens it’s usually because the original writings were edited in some way. There is no scholarly consensus that this is the case here in Amos, but if you went home and read Amos, completely skipping chapter 7 up until chapter 8 verse 3 you would find that Amos has a much better flow and makes a lot more sense as far as the message this book is trying to get across.

Then again, because Amos is believed to be written around 765 BCE, with no existence of any other writings for us to compare to, we are left to find an understanding as to why Amos changed his voice, the voice with which he tells his story. Why does Amos insert a more personal way in which to get this point across?

Maybe it’s because Amos is trying to tell us that the reason he is prophesying is because God told him to and to him that’s a very personal thing.

The vision of the plumb line is the 3rd in a string of 4 visions. The 2 before this have to do with the destruction of Israel through locusts and fire. Amos pleads with God to not let those visions come true, and God listens. However, it’s obvious that God feels God needs to do something about Israel, so God shows the vision of the plumb line to Amos, highlighting the fact that Israel does not measure up to their covenantal duties; Israel has become a place where people are more interested in their personal successes and lives that they no longer remember to take care of the poor, the orphan, or the widow.

If there is one thing we can learn from the prophets, any of them, it is that God expects us to provide for a world where all are taken care of and nobody is forgotten. Peace through justice is what the prophets’ messages are.

Amos has no response to God in this vision. Instead we’re invited to listen as Amaziah, Priest of Bethel in the Northern Kingdom of Israel, bemoans to the King of Israel how Amos is making it difficult for him to do his job. For, you see, Amos’ words are most likely scaring away those who would come to the temple; at least I know if I wanted to go to church and someone was ranting about my destruction I probably wouldn’t want to go in.

It’s at this point Amos says that he’s not prophesying for his own benefit. After all he had a happy life as a herdsman and caretaker of sycamore trees. His was a simple life where he spent all his time outdoors, enjoying God’s creation in peace. But, as it is with prophets, God had other plans for this man, and so off he was sent to a place outside of his comfort zone where he was to talk about death and destruction.

If we read past today’s passage we’ll see that Amos is given a fourth vision, one of the fruit basket which sounds good and yummy, but in the interpretation of what Amos saw we are told it was a basket of rotting summer fruit. This is God’s way of making God’s decision to destroy Israel final, saying to Amos, “The end has come upon my people Israel.”

It’s here, at the end of this 4^th vision I want us to pay special attention. So far we’ve been introduced to the book of Amos as being written in the third person, except for chapter 7 until chapter 8 verse 3. During chapter 7 we are invited into a more personal view point of Amos’ reason for being a prophet, the intimate relationship he has with God. We’re also given a snippet of priests and kings trying to stop Amos, trying to tell Amos what he can or cannot do.

Then here at the end of this trail of visions we hear God say to Amos, “Be silent!” And for the rest of the book Amos once again tells his story in the third person, narrating the interactions and conversations between God and God’s people.

It’s almost to say that Amos recognizes that it is God who has put him there and it is God who guides him. Amos, in this unusual way of writing, unusual to today’s standards anyway, is in my opinion making it very clear who is allowed to tell him what to do.

Which gets me thinking; who tells us what to do?

Sure, sometimes I let my wife tell me what to do; okay, more than sometimes. But as far as making life decisions, as far as how I present myself in the world, as far as the words I choose to use and the actions I choose to perform, it’s God, through the teachings of Jesus Christ I let tell me what to do.

Amos might have been a mere herdsman, but God saw in him someone who could speak on God’s behalf. Amos might have been a simple caretaker of sycamore trees, but God knew that he could be more. God knows what we’re capable of, God gives us the gifts we need to do God’s work, and God puts us on the path to helping make this world a better place for all – especially the downtrodden, especially the outcasts, especially those who live on the fringes.

To me it is very clear what we are called to do; what God is telling us to do: Take care of each other and this world in the same way God takes care of us. As Jesus so eloquently puts it – love God with everything you are, and love each other and yourselves in the same way.

Ewa Community Church is in a unique place at this point in our history. We are a church that has endured many changes. Some of these changes were good ones such as the combining of the ethnic churches into one, and some of them not so good like the closing of the plantation. But somehow we’ve found a way to keep moving forward.

As we continue to move forward, together facing whatever challenges are ahead, I want you to remember who has brought you here. I don’t mean your uncle and aunty or parents. I’m not talking about a friend or colleague. I don’t even mean a website or social media page. I want you to know that it is God who has led us all to stand in this place, in this time, with one another.

It is God who has brought us here and it is God who is trying to tell us what to do and it’s in God we need to put our trust. You’ve heard me say that we all have gifts given to us by God. Our gifts vary as much as there are people sitting in these pews. What we need to be willing to do now is find that voice which says, “Yes, I’m living a life that’s more or less in my comfort zone, but what if I could do more? What if God is expecting me to do more?

In 2011 a small group of teachers from our school made plans to go to Fukushima, Japan during spring recess. On the night before they were to fly that part of the country was hit by one of their worst natural disasters; a 9.0 earthquake followed by a deadly tsunami. The combination of those 2 events resulted in almost 16,000 deaths and the nuclear meltdown of one of their power plants, the latter of which is still affecting life in Fukushima.

When we came back from the recess one of the teachers told us of how she felt about what almost happened to them. If the earthquake had happened just a day and a half later her and the other teachers might have been among the almost 16,000 who lost their lives.

As she talked about how her life was almost changed, it struck her that the lives of those living in Northeast Japan did change. I watched tears form in her eyes as she said, “I wish there was something I could do for them.”

The next day she rushed into the office and proclaimed she had the best idea in the world about how to help the people in Japan; she would collect money from teachers and students and donate it to the Red Cross. We gave her a look, telling her she’d be lucky to get a couple hundred dollars, but her goal was to raise one dollar from every student and teacher in our school, about 2200.

She promoted the fund drive as “Hearts for Japan”, and the dollars which were donated were folded into origami-style hearts by students in our academy as well as others. Students would come by and drop off hearts they collected in their classes. Some gave $15, some gave $150. The administrators even got involved, challenging each of them to give no less than $10, which some did, and some didn’t.

It was amazing to watch as the folded hearts kept coming. She was adamant that each bill collected be a dollar, so she would go to the bank and change some of the 5’s and 10’s and 20’s that came in. She took the coins and put them in her bag, replacing them with dollar bills. By the end of the drive, which lasted 2 weeks, she had collected close to $2300 in folded hearts to donate towards the rescue efforts in Fukushima.

When all was said and done I had a private moment with her, congratulating her for how she brought the Kapolei community together for a great cause. She only smiled and said thank you, which I saw as a very humble response to what she just achieved. The following words are some that will stay with me for a while.

I remember asking her if what she did was so that she felt better about what happened in Japan. She said to me that what she did, she did because there was a little voice which told her to do so. When she heard that voice she immediately knew it was the right thing to do and it didn’t matter if she had the abilities to do it, somehow she knew everything would work out.

Now is not the time to doubt your gifts, or to think there’s possibly nothing you can do for the church that you haven’t already done, or to speculate on how much easier a life it is taking care of sycamore trees. Now is the time to dig deep, to find the thing God is telling you to do, and to go out and do it.

God is with us all.   Amen.

Not So Easily Fooled

2 Corinthians 1-13

You may have heard that one of the most difficult places to be a Christian is on our freeways. If you drive you know that being caught in morning or afternoon traffic, going less than 5 miles per hour, taking more than an hour to go 20 miles or so, can be very frustrating. If we add that there are literally thousands of other drivers feeling just as frustrated, we have the possibility for unpleasant things to happen.

Sometimes things get me so frustrated that my wife has to remind me I’m a Christian, and a minister, so I shouldn’t let my feelings overtake me to the point where I do or say certain things. I will admit, though, that there are times while on that crowded freeway when my feelings get the best of me and I do things I later regret.

As you know I live in Mililani. A trip home from the Liliha area during afternoon traffic can sometimes take an hour; in the evening it usually takes about 25 minutes. However, when the lanes on the freeway are combined into one lane going through Pearl City, as with the current rail project construction, that same evening travel can take much longer. In fact, I remember one night when it took me almost 2 hours to get home; a very frustrating night, indeed.

I left work at about 9 pm and made sure to call my wife to let her know I was on my way home. Everything was going well until I got to Moanalua Gardens, just before the freeway goes up Red Hill. That’s where the traffic had come to a standstill. I didn’t think too much about it – maybe it was an accident or a stalled car up ahead.

As I sat there, literally not moving for almost 15 minutes, I began to wonder what was going on. If it were an accident or a stall I surely would have moved by now. I honestly didn’t know what was going on and as I looked around at the faces of the drivers close to me I could see that they also had no idea.

Many of them had gotten on their cell phones to see if social media could tell them anything, which reminded me that I really should call home to say I was going to be late. Using voice dial and the phone’s hands-free options, I called home. Being that I really didn’t want a ticket for using my phone in the car, I decided to put it away so the temptation of doing like everyone else would be minimized.

Of course, the more I looked around the more tempted I became. I began to think to myself that I would definitely see a police officer coming, if one could get through that traffic. I convinced myself that others would surely be caught before I was. And, before I knew it I was on my phone, seeking answers for this horrid traffic from Facebook and Twitter.

Of course, since I was stuck and moving at such a slow rate, my social media searches didn’t stop at what were the reasons for the traffic; I wanted to also know what all my friends were doing. I became so involved at being on my phone, I never noticed the police officer as he passed by on a motorcycle. I immediately covered the phone with my hand, thinking that would lessen the glow coming from its screen.

I didn’t want to be like everyone else, but the fact that everyone else was getting away with it pushed me over the edge. I broke the law. Fortunately the police officer either didn’t notice or had decided to let all of us law-breakers get away with having our phones on and I didn’t get a ticket. I did, however, learn a lesson.

In today’s passage from 2nd Corinthians, Paul helps the church realize a similar situation, except that Paul’s rhetorical talents helps the reader understand how silly the whole thing really is.

Paul begins by mentioning that it makes no sense to brag, because bragging gets nowhere, and decides to move on to the topic of visions and revelations. The reason Paul wants to talk about this is because at the time this letter to the churches in Corinth was written, many others who called themselves prophets and teachers had come into the church. The quickest way for these super-apostles to accumulate followers was to talk about how one was a personal participant in the seeing of visions from God. Paul is now addressing the church’s enchantment of these kinds of people.

Paul tells a story about someone he may or may not know who might or might not have had an out of the body or in the body experience 14 years ago. Paul doesn’t claim to know any of this, but he does say God knows, immediately basing what’s happened in God instead of himself. What I find amusing about what Paul has started doing, is that while he says bragging has no use, he’s actually started bragging about himself. That person who may or may not have done those things 14 years ago is him.

While with one breath he says he won’t brag about himself, with the very next one he does. However, he tells us he won’t brag about his strengths, or the things which make him just like the perfect super-apostles he’s talking about. What he does want to brag about are the things which make him inferior, his weaknesses. This is alright to do, in Paul’s opinion, because he won’t be making a fool of himself as his bragging will be coming from a place of truth.

He then goes on to tell of all the afflictions he’s endured since becoming a follower of Christ, and in doing so tells us of how his weaknesses have actually become his strengths. By turning the rhetorical table completely around where he is now bragging of his strengths…Paul proclaims he has become a fool. To make things even more comical, Paul blames the whole thing on the Corinthians.

To add a little insult to the point he just made, Paul adds that he’s not inferior to those so-called super-apostles as he is the only one who continuously shows the churches he works with signs, wonders and miracles; never treating the churches in Corinth different than the other churches he works with. Adding that he has never been a burden to the church in Corinth, except that, unlike the super-apostles who live among them now, he has never been a financial burden on them, he never made the church provide for his personal needs. And for that, for not being a financial burden, he apologizes – tongue in cheek, of course.

If I were in the Corinthian churches I would be feeling pretty guilty right about now. Kind of like how I felt when that police officer drove by.

You see, I knew getting on my phone was wrong, but what I also saw was that everyone else was doing it and I really just got caught up in a game of follow the leader, even though I knew that leader was going in the wrong direction. On that night in that horrible traffic I made the conscious decision to put my trust in what others were doing, instead of what I absolutely knew to be the right thing to do.

One of the benefits of my job at Kapolei High School is that I get to develop relationships with 16 and 17 year olds who may not feel accepted by other adults. In my 5 or so years with the school, I’ve shared in the journeys of these teens as they face every imaginable life event. I’ve sat with young people as they cried over the recent deaths of family members and cheered because a new sibling was just born into the family. I’ve helped a few get a passing grade in their classes, and I’ve watched as others achieved becoming valedictorians.

Mostly, though, we sit and talk about daily stuff such as friends and family and what they did over the weekend. I want to say that over the years I’ve developed some pretty good friendships with these young people.

A few years ago there was this one boy. He was a junior and really tried his best to get good grades. He told me he studied, and he did most of his homework and classwork. But for him the pace with which we moved in our Academy was maybe a little too quick.

He didn’t get bad grades, averaging a low C for most of the year. But he wanted to do better; he wanted to prove that he could get better grades. So he tried harder, came in for tutoring and did what most students who are trying to better for themselves should. No matter how much he tried, though, he just couldn’t get his grade high enough, at least high enough for him.

It was the middle of the semester, and a time when we take mid-terms in our Academy. One of the classes in which this young man struggled was having a 50-question exam and for the entire week leading up to the exam he came in everyday to study and get tutoring. Whenever he took a mock test, however, he couldn’t seem to remember anything.

The day of the test came, and he was visibly nervous, so I took a little time to talk with him and joke around a little to try and settle him. I’m not sure it worked, because his nervousness never left. The exam was passed out and he was actually one of the first to finish, not the first, but among the first 10% at least. I walked over to him and asked how he felt about the test and he said he thought he did really well.

He did in fact do really well, scoring in the mid 90’s. After the tests were passed back he took a look at his score and breathed a sigh of relief. He had accomplished what he set out to do.

I don’t know why he did what he did a few days later, but for some reason he approached me during recess and told me how he was able to score so high on that test. He cheated; hiding the answers from the exam study sheet on a small piece of paper behind his name badge. 

This young man was my friend; we had shared a lot of life together. I knew his home situation and if word got back to them that he cheated, he would most likely be beaten – I’m not exaggerating. But I couldn’t let the fact that he, along with a small handful of others, cheated on a test go un-told.

I found myself in that place where I could have been a friend and followed what his other friends did and kept quiet, or I could do what I was supposed to do and let the teacher know. I could have been a follower of the wrong way which would have been foolish, or do what is right.

I lost a friend that day as he couldn’t believe I turned on him and the others.

Making the right choices doesn’t always come easy. Sometimes it’s easier to just follow the crowds. But, as Paul reminds us it’s in taking the difficult road, it’s in making the decisions which are right but not necessarily easy that we find our strength in Christ.

Jesus made some difficult decisions during his ministry here on earth. He stood up against oppression and for justice in a time when the poor and sick were all but forgotten. He spoke out against discrimination based solely on a strict adherence to the laws of his day and instead told everyone to simply accept others for who they were and for where on life’s journeys they found themselves. He did the things which angered those in power, but found himself loved by everyone else.

 His was not a ministry of doing things simply because someone said he should. His was a ministry which pointed out that what God truly sought from humanity was that we find a way to live in harmony with God, each other, ourselves, and creation.

It is this Christ that Paul says to let rest on us, so that we can live within and share in Christ’s amazing power. In so doing, Paul would say, we also allow the power of the one God for all people to be within us, to flow through us and to live among us.

God is always with us.  Amen.