Sometimes We Have To Cry Out

2 Samuel 18:5-9, 15, 31-33

To understand the pain David felt in the moment when he cries out “O my son Absalom, my son, my son Absalom! Would that I had died instead of you, O Absalom, my son, my son!” we need to take a look at the events which led to this moment.

It started when David’s first son, Amnon, raped his half-sister Tamar, who was Absalom’s full sister. The violation of Tamar became very public and David had a difficult time deciding what to do. On the one hand a law had been broken and there should be some kind of penalty and on the other hand the violator was his first-born son. While David was furious about what had happened, he just couldn’t bring himself to punish Amnon.

 

As you might imagine, David’s decision angered Absalom. After all, how would you feel if a member of your family was violated in this way and got away with it? So, Absalom made a plan to avenge his sister himself.

One of the events the elite celebrated in Jerusalem was the time of shearing. This was when all the sheep in the land were sheared of their wool after which a banquet was held in the hall of the king. Absalom was the host of this particular banquet and invited everyone in the land to attend, including Amnon. Then, when Amnon was too drunk to know what was happening, Absalom had him killed, right there in front of everyone. David became livid and vowed to avenge his first-born’s death which made Absalom flea from his home in Jerusalem to take up residence in the homeland of his mother.

After Absalom had been in exile for a few years, David was convinced by the kindness of a traveling woman to allow his son to return, and so David did. That decision proved to be a big mistake as Absalom soon plotted to take the throne from David, first by convincing everyone in Jerusalem that David was an unjust king, then by building an army so strong and large that David had no choice but to flea across the Jordan.

Before Absalom could mount a battle to once and for all rid Israel of its king, David found a way to delay him just long enough to build his own army. Today’s passage brings us to the eve of the battle between David and his son, Absalom.

If we take a look at what brought David and his son to be in such a place, we can see that the story is filled with injustice, revenge, deceit, and mostly unresolved hatred; all of which spin out of control to a point where neither David nor Absalom can do anything to resolve it. Yet, in the midst of all this madness, on the eve of the king sending his army to defeat that of his son, David makes a plea to his generals, “Deal gently for my sake with the young man Absalom.” With all that has happened between him and his son, with all of the back-stabbing and lying and cheating, David still shows compassion for Absalom and asks that nothing happen to him.

The battle known as “The Battle of Ephraim’s Wood” begins and it’s a slaughter. We are told that the battle spread over the entire country and that Absalom loses 20,000 of his army, with the rest giving up and fleeing home. Unfortunately, one of the defeated is Absalom himself as he is trapped by a tree branch with his body suspended in mid-air while a group of David’s servants come across him.

When I first read this I must admit I chuckled; the scene is rather comical. Imagine a seasoned soldier, one trained by the best army-trainers in the land, riding a mule through the woods when suddenly his head gets caught between two branches. Then, while he’s struggling to get free his mule continues on, leaving this great soldier with his feet dangling and the weight of his body too great for only his arms and hands to free himself.

Well, it’s a funny scene to me.

But as I was preparing for today’s text I came across a comment by 20^th century theologian Walter Brueggemann that said, “Absalom is suspended between life and death, between the sentence of a rebel and the value of a son, between the severity of the king and the yearning of the father. He is no longer living, because he is utterly vulnerable, but he is not dead”

There it was, as plain as daylight for me. We had reached a place in the story which mirrors what many of us go through at times; that place between life and death. We find ourselves in that place where we’re not sure if we can go on because the entire world seems to be crashing down on us. We find ourselves in that place where overwhelming circumstances have taken control and we don’t know if we can escape the grip of that which suspends us.

Absalom is now set to face the consequences of his actions. Yet, he is unable to cry out for help. Absalom is utterly alone and at the mercy of others. Unfortunately, this circumstance gets him killed. Not by those who wish to honor the king’s plea to be gentle with his son, but by David’s most trusted advisor, who takes it upon himself to avenge his king.

It would seem that the circumstances which surround David are falling more and more out of control at the hands and minds of those closest to him.

A messenger is sent to tell the king what happened, actually if you read this chapter in its entirety you would see that two messengers are sent. David asks both if there is any news of his son and the first messenger, who was actually a witness to everything, says to David that he saw something going on, but he didn’t know what it was. The second messenger answers that the king’s son was indeed killed, but doesn’t tell him how.

Instead of knowing the truth, David is led to believe that his son was killed in the heat of battle.

I have to admit that when I read today’s text after getting all of this information, I felt my heart sink. Here stood David, a father who was betrayed and cast out by his own son – a man who had nothing but hatred for his father, a man who made it his life’s quest to destroy and kill his father. Yet David stood, winner of a great battle but loser of one he still loved. David stood at the gates of his great city with all the hope he had for any chance of reconciling with Absalom gone.

There David stood with circumstances in his life out of control and feeling alone as he cries out to nobody in particular, except maybe himself, “O my son Absalom, my son, my son Absalom! Would that I had died instead of you, O Absalom, my son, my son!”         

The other day in our English class the teacher led a discussion with which the lesson was to understand that we all have different points-of-view and as such we interpret things differently, especially literature.

She projected a painting by Andrew Wyeth titled “Christina’s World.”  In the foreground of this painting is a woman, dressed in a pale pink dress, sitting sideways in the middle of a field of grass that is brownish-yellow.  She has one hand on the ground to her side, and the other on the ground in front of her, almost giving the impression she is either lifting herself off the earth from a nap, or pulling herself by her hands along the field.  

In the background is a farm house, a very good distance from where the woman sits. Her body is twisted in the direction of the home as it seemingly points itself along a path towards the house. In between the woman and the farmhouse is a lot of dry grass, a field so large it seems to engulf both the woman and the house.

The teacher then asked the class to describe what they thought was going on in the painting.  Most of them answered that the woman was just waking up from a nap, or that she fell down and was trying to get up. A few of them commented that maybe she had something wrong with her which caused her to faint.

Then one of the boys noticed that there was a set of tire tracks to the far right of the painting. He commented that perhaps the woman was riding in a car that was driving away from the house and had to jump out of the car because she didn’t want to be in whatever situation was happening in the car.

The class began agreeing with this young man, that perhaps something bad was happening to the woman in the painting and she was trying to get away. The teacher asked them why they felt that way and those who participated in the discussion said that’s how they feel sometimes. They mentioned that their parents are always fighting, or that they’re always getting in trouble for things they honestly didn’t do. One even said she was thinking about a relationship she had a few years ago that wasn’t good for her and all she wanted to do was get out.

The teacher was then ready for the real lesson; how sometimes our perception changes when we know a little more about the facts of that which we observe. This particular painting is that of a real-life person named Anna Christina Olson. She actually lived in such a place with a large grassy field and a farm-house.

One day, while staying in the farm house as a guest, the painter looked outside his bedroom window and saw Christina actually crawling across the field. He thought this to be quite touching because Christina suffered from a muscular-degenerative disease, such as polio. Crawling was how she got around.  He thought it was one of the most amazing things he’s seen; a woman who could not support herself with her legs finding a way to get outside and enjoy God’s creation.

Almost in unison the students showed their own amazement as they breathed a collective “wow.” The teacher then asked if anyone’s perception of the painting had changed.

One boy raised his hand almost immediately and said in a confident voice, “That last comment about the tire tracks is still fresh in my mind and after hearing about how she has polio or something like that I began to think, what if the tire tracks are from the doctor’s car. Maybe he just drove away after telling Christina that she has a degenerative-muscle disease and she ran out of the house to get as far away from the bad news as she could, not yet impacted by the disease. But just as she reached that point in the field her legs gave out and she fell, so that now she’s crying out to the house for help.”

The class gave a hum of approval, with a few actually applauding and saying how deep that was. This young man had hit on something I think they could all associate with; the need to escape bad news and realizing there is no escape. In a way I think almost every one of those students had been in a place where their circumstances had become overwhelming to a point where they felt alone, not knowing if they can escape the grip of that which suspended them between life and death.

He then added that sometimes he feels like that, alone, in pain, wanting only to escape but unable to. It’s in those times he wants to just scream at the world. A few others in the class added that they’ve been in that place a lot of times; sometimes wishing they were dead. One of them even said that when they get to that place they actually contemplate suicide.

All I could think at this point was how deeply sad it was for a 16-year old person to think that the only way out of their circumstance was to end the life which is so preciously theirs.

Then somebody called out, “We love you!” and the rest of the class joined in, all crying out, “We love you!”

It was a very touching moment, one that really brought home to me the meaning of today’s text. Sometimes we get to a place in our lives where nothing seems to be going right and everything around us is spinning out of control, just as it was for David. And just like David all we can really do is cry out.

The good news is that we have a God who is always by our side, not only as we’re going through our trials, but also as we cry out in despair. It’s this God, our Constant Companion, who will eventually cry out to us that we are loved, and no matter what we are never alone. 

God is always with us.  Amen.

Need More Proof?

John 6:24-35

Let me see a show of hands: How many of you still believe in Santa Clause? I’m not ashamed to admit that I do, and that I probably will for as long as I have cognitive thought. Maybe my belief comes from the never-ending child-like person who lives in me, or maybe it resides in the symbol of hope Santa’s memories bring to people around the world, either way my strong conviction that Santa Clause lives will most likely never be shaken.

I can’t say the same thing for all of the holiday child-hood symbols in my life. Once I realized rabbits didn’t lay eggs I stopped believing in the Easter Bunny. The tooth fairy went away about the same time I began losing too much teeth and the other kids in school starting talking about how the tooth fairy was really their parents. But Santa – there’s just something pure about this symbol that will always hold true in my heart.

Sometimes, when it seems that the world has forgotten what Christmas is really about and the symbols for which Santa stands – care, compassion, generosity, kindness to friend and stranger alike – something happens to renew my confidence in all the things which bring us closer as a people united by the jolly guy in the red suit.

So, yes, I believe in Santa. But, if you asked me if I trusted Santa, if I would place decisions about my life’s journeys in the guidance of his hands and teachings, I think I would have to say no. You see, there’s a big difference between believing and trusting.

To believe in something is to admit its existence, to have some kind of understanding that what we believe in has some root, some foundation in reality. But, to trust something is to go beyond belief, to go beyond the simple assurance that something exists.

Some might also call this faith.

The word “faith” as we use it today is defined as a noun, something we possess. We possess the ability to believe in something that can’t be proved. We hold an obligation of loyalty towards a person or promise. Faith as we understand it in today’s vernacular is something you either have or don’t have, there is no in between.

To the community for which John was written, however, faith was a verb. It was an action, something that was performed to the best of one’s ability. One did not have faith, one did faith.

The Greek word used for “believe” in today’s passage is translated to being committed, to trust in, or to have confidence about something. So when it is written in John 6:29, “This is what God requires, that you believe in him whom God sent,” the community of John is to understand that they are to put all of their trust, all of their confidence, all of their conviction into the personhood of Jesus and his life-examples.

Let’s take a closer look at today’s story. It follows last week’s reading about the feeding of the 5000 on the mountain. If you remember, Jesus used the gift of an innocent child to feed those who were there and he did this for two reasons: he wanted to provide for the needs of others and he wanted to highlight the workings of God on this earth. What Jesus did was nothing short of a miracle; a sign that God is still with us and is still providing for us.

Jesus then goes into hiding because he senses that the people gathered want to make him a king, to appoint him as the messiah, but he’ll have nothing to do with it. Jesus sees as his duty on earth to do one thing and one thing only: reconcile people with God and with one another. Jesus was not put on earth to take over; rather he was put on earth to bring people together under one God. For you see, John 3:17 tells us that God didn’t send his Son into the world to judge the world, but that the world might be healed and made whole through him.

But the people want a king so they go looking for Jesus. They board their boats and go looking for their would-be king. When they find him and ask where he’s been, Jesus simply says, “It’s not really me you’re looking for, rather it’s more food you want.”  He says, “You did all that work – searching, sailing, and traveling across the waters – not because you want to be with God, but because you want more bread.”

That’s John’s way of having Jesus teach that when we work for things, we should be doing so for the right reasons. When we take a look at today’s society we see people who are putting their focus on the acquisition of bigger and better things. The malls reflect the need for fancy clothes from top-name designers. The car dealers emphasize luxury and power. The message we see and hear on our TV’s and radios, in our magazines and newspapers, is that more is better, and it’s all just for you. All you have to do is work for it.

Imagine if those messages instead told us to do all things in moderation, start taking care of the planet, and do whatever you can to help those in need. Imagine what this world would be like if we put our efforts, if we worked, towards finding a way to reconcile each other with God and God’s creation as well as one another.

Imagine.

That is the message John is trying to give us in today’s passage. Sometimes we can be like those crowds of people – fed to content but still looking for more. Jesus reminds us that it’s not physical bread that will satisfy us, rather it’s spiritual bread we should be searching for. The way we do that, the way we find that bread of everlasting life is to completely trust in, and be fully committed to, what Jesus is trying to teach us.

I may have mentioned that going to seminary shook my faith to the core. The things we were exposed to, the different points-of-view we were asked to look at went against a lot of the things I learned as a young man at the church in which I grew up. But it also reaffirmed what I’ve also known in my heart to be the right thing.

In seminary I struggled with clear definitions of Heaven and Hell. I saw the stories of the Old Testament from the viewpoint of a people who were constantly being oppressed and held captive. I was introduced to a loving and forgiving God who was being portrayed as vengeful and judgmental. I read the Psalms as cries of anger and frustration to a God from a people who felt abandoned, as well as songs of praise from a people who were freed.

Through it all, though, I asked questions, found new truths, and when I emerged through the other side I knew, without a doubt, what it meant to be a Christian: To love in such a way as to not make anyone an enemy. I understood that we all have different ideologies and beliefs and that the goal of Jesus and his followers was to unite us despite our differences.

One of the last struggles I had with my faith was that of the virgin birth. It was something I really found myself trying to wrap my head and heart around. You see, in the time of Jesus, stories were told of the Pharaoh in such a way as to make it clear he was descended from gods. Not only did there have to be a strong lineage to past Pharaohs, but there also had to be a connection to a god of some kind. That connection was usually told as though the Pharaoh was given to us directly from the gods.

In much the same way the Gospel writers wanted to make that same connection. They wanted to show how Jesus was a direct descendant of a god, actually the God. So they wrote into the Gospel story the birth of Jesus by a virgin. What is interesting is that only the Gospels of Matthew and Luke give us the story of Jesus’ birth. While both have an account of Jesus being born to a virgin, the telling of the story differs slightly.

So my first dilemma was, “If Jesus was truly born of a virgin, wouldn’t this be something all the Gospels writers would put in their stories?”

Once again I’m reminded that the Gospels are written for a specific group of people, each with its own way of telling the good news that God is still with us and it’s through the teachings of Jesus that we can be reconciled with God.

In seminary we were taught that perhaps the writers of Luke and Matthew wanted to make it very clear that even while living under a Roman Empire that sought peace through violence, there was an alternative which if followed would bring peace through love. This alternative was Jesus, who, by the way, is also a direct descendant of a god. Not any god, but the God of their people’s ancestors, also providing their readers with a very strong lineage.

So, there I was, literally torn between what I had always grown up with – the comfortable knowledge that Jesus was born of a virgin named Mary – and that which had begun to challenge my belief. I struggled for more than a year with this one, wanting desperately to hold on to the idea that the Jesus I knew wasn’t of this world and instead came into this world, given to us by God.

Then, one day while I was driving to church the solace which I was searching for came to me. In our Sunday afternoon study group we were discussing the metaphorical bible and its impact on today’s Christianity. The discussions really brought to life the idea that through our relationship with the bible and with God through Jesus Christ we will all find ourselves in different places along our spiritual journeys. By the end of the classes, those who attended came to an understanding that our churches need to find a way to welcome all people, regardless of where they find themselves on the spectrum of Christianity, or on the spectrum of life for that matter.

So, there I was, driving to church for a meeting of some kind when I thought to myself, “It really doesn’t matter what I believe. It doesn’t really matter if Jesus was born of a virgin or not.” It wasn’t a question of what I believe, rather an awareness that I was trusting in the fact that what I understood to be true might not be what others understood to be true and if I could accept that as a starting point on my new journey towards uniting with my neighbor and with God, then that was a good place to be.

When I came to that understanding, when I had accepted in my heart that it’s not about the physical realities of what the bible says or doesn’t say, but about the spiritual direction my soul was heading in, I cried; I cried so hard I actually had to pull off the road because I couldn’t see what was in front of me.

This is what Jesus meant when he says that he is the bread of life. It’s an invitation to consume a spirituality based in the understanding of what Jesus’ ministry was about, and to do our best to continue that ministry into our lives.

Jesus’ ministry is to show how we are all one people, united under one God. Jesus’ ministry is to love in such a way as to not make anyone our enemy. Jesus’ ministry is to reach out to those who need a helping hand, to take care of those who can’t take care of themselves, to build a world where justice is no longer sought because it has become a reality. Jesus’ ministry is to find a way to break down the things which divide us and bring us together as one, each of us living a life of hope fulfilled.

So, unlike the people who came down from the mountain with bellies full of bread who were still looking for proof that Jesus was indeed the king who would lead them back into a life filled with hope, peace, and joy, let us be the ones who fill ourselves with the bread that gives us what we need to continue down the path Jesus laid before us and fulfill the works needed to bring everyone into the kingdom of God.

Let us be the ones to set aside our differences, learn from each other’s diversities, accept one another for who we are and where we are on our journeys of life, and continue to be in faith, trusting God’s words as portrayed through Jesus’ actions, committing ourselves to lives filled with care, compassion, generosity, and kindness to friend and stranger alike.

God is with us always.   Amen.

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