| February 24, 2008 Sermon |
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“THE GOD OF SECOND CHANCES”
Luke 13:1-9
“So he said to the man who took care of the vineyard, ’For three years now I’ve been coming to look for fruit on this fig tree and haven’t found any. Cut it down! Why should it use up the soil?’ ‘Sir,’ the man replied, ‘leave it alone for one more year, and I’ll dig around it and fertilize it. If it bears fruit next year, fine! If not, then cut it down.’” —Luke 13:7-9
One of the things I love about being Presbyterian is our understanding of the covenant relationship between God and humanity. In the Reformed Tradition, we place the emphasis on God—not us. So instead of saying “What must I do to be saved?”we focus on what God has already done to save us.
And, friends, I don’t have to tell you—God has done a lot! Read the gospels, especially those texts that describe Jesus’ last week, from Palm Sunday to Good Friday. Or, maybe you saw Mel Gibson’s movie from a few years ago, The Passion of the Christ. If so, then you have a pretty good idea what God has done to save us.
God, in Jesus Christ, paid a high price for our redemption, to be sure. So it’s nothing less than amazing that this same God, who sacrificed everything for us, is also a God of second chances.
And don’t we know it. I have often said it would be appropriate to name our church “The Church of the Second Chance,” because who among us hasn’t experienced some form of “extra grace” along the way. Well, I googled “church of the second chance,” my original idea, and discovered there were 12,300 results from my search. I guess there are lots of people out there who have experienced God’s “second chance” grace.
It’s certainly comforting and reassuring to think of our God as the God of Second Chances, but our reading this morning about second chances is directed at us.
What do you do with those second chances God gives you? Before you answer, let’s all go ahead and admit that we love it when some deadline is extended. You forget to study for the test and the teacher postpones it, and you have one more day to study. Or, the lump turns out to be benign and, thanks be to God, life goes on. You mess up the sales presentation and lose the account, but the boss gives you one more chance to sell.
Our parable today is a reminder that failure doesn’t keep us from trying again. It is also a challenge. It tells us that “just being present” is not enough. Like the tree, we have to bear fruit. In the light of God’s grace, the last thing we want is to have a fruitless existence, and yet sometimes, that is how life seems. I don’t know about you, but there have been times, many times, in my life when I didn’t reach a goal, when I didn’t arrive at the place I thought I was going—I was frustrated, discouraged, even depressed . . . but then when all hope was lost, I was given a second chance!
Let me tell you about my big second chance. Thirteen years ago this presbytery was talking about starting a new church north of Hwy. 41 or on the proposed Daniel Island. I wanted to be the pastor of that church; I felt called to that church. But apparently, no one else heard that call, and the timing just wasn’t right. I moved from McClellanville to Greenville to start a new church there. It was a wonderful experience—end of story.
Well, three years ago, someone from the presbytery commission to start this church called me—more than a couple of times, and each time I said no. I even gave them the name of someone else who we all thought was coming. There were months of negotiations and it was finally a done deal. My friend called to tell me he would be coming to Mt. Pleasant in two months. The next week Rosemary and I came through Charleston on our way to Myrtle Beach for vacation and I was in a terrible mood. I drove through Mt. Pleasant—and thought I blew my second chance. It was not a good vacation. Turned out that my friend didn’t come, and a few months later when the commission called me, I didn’t hesitate to come for the interview. Not everyone is called to be a minister, I know, but still, some of us need a second chance where our faith is concerned. We are all challenged to bear fruit in God’s Kingdom. Just like the tree in today’s parable, we are planted for a purpose. We are not here by accident, and friends, we are not volunteers! God has planted us with high hopes. We are God’s investment—and we need to produce, because each of us has a ministry!
It has been said many times, life is not a dress rehearsal. Baby boomers live for all the gusto they can get, except in matters of faith.
Now this morning I am going to quit preaching and start meddling. The parable of the fig tree is a warning that we can’t just take up space. We need a sense of purpose. The Psalmist in Psalm 63 writes:
“My soul thirsts for you in a dry and weary land where there is no water.”
In other words, we are not who we should be until we find God’s purpose for our lives. In the parable of the fig tree, the first listeners would have known that there is a three year period of preparation before a tree produces fruit. For an additional three years, the owner has patiently waited to see some figs appear. He wanted a return on his investment. This tree was planted to produce figs—not olives or dates—figs. It was not planted to be beautiful or to cast shade or to provide lumber. It was there to produce figs, and so far it was not fulfilling its purpose.
Now, let’s assume in the past, you haven’t fulfilled your purpose where God is concerned. Let’s assume that starting right now God is giving you a second chance to really live your faith. Forget your age, your past experience and service in Christ’s church, forget the excuses and the rationalizing and all the other factors that have prevented you from producing fruit then. What are you going to do now? As your pastor, I want to be like the vineyard keeper; I am willing to dig around you and fertilize you and water you. I am willing to pray for you and to give you any number of opportunities for service. The questions is “Where and how will you serve?” Where can you best produce your intended fruit? None of us should be running around doing things just to be doing because this busyness sometimes keeps us from fulfilling our main purposes. If God wants you to produce figs, he is really not interested in olives or dates or shade or lumber. And the thing is, he is willing to give you a second chance.
Take a moment to think of some point in your life where you have experienced God’s grace—where you were given the opportunity to try again, where you got a second chance.
Pause for silent reflection.
You’ve heard my story. I could tell you any number of stories. Lord knows who hasn’t had any number of second chances. But you know, those stories wouldn’t be as meaningful as your own. Maybe you started a new career, a new relationship, maybe you got a clean bill of health—I don’t know, but you do! You got your second chance; you know God is gracious and merciful. But friends, God is also fair, so God will judge! Right now, this spring, you have another season to live your faith—what is God calling you to do? Who is God calling you to be?
Maybe this is your second chance . . . but then again, what if this is your last?
Thanks be to God.
Amen
The Rev. Dr. Michael Lee Fitze
Palmetto Presbyterian Church
Mt. Pleasant, SC
February 24, 2008
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| February 10, 2008 Sermon |
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“LIVING BY THE GRACE OF GOD . . . ALONE”
Luke 4:1-13
“When the devil had finished all this tempting, he left him until an opportune time.” —Luke 4:13
There by the grace of God, go I . . . we say it, do we believe it? Maybe a better question is do we trust it? Are we willing to live by the grace of God . . . alone?
Dick Redden keeps telling me to do what needs to be done at church and quit worrying about the results—God will take care of those. I guess that’s what it means to live by the grace of God . . . alone.
That’s what the season of Lent is all about—living by grace alone—putting aside all the “stuff” we are so preoccupied with, getting down to basics, trusting solely on God.
I’m amazed at how many people think Lent is something new. Granted, we haven’t always had Lent. Look for the word in our Bible dictionary and you will not find it, and forget Lenten disciplines. There is some evidence that early Christians fasted forty hours between Good Friday and Easter, but the custom of spending forty days in prayer and self-denial did not come until later . . . when the initial rush of Christian adrenaline was over and believers had become pretty blasé about their faith.
When the world did not end as Jesus himself had said it would, his followers stopped expecting so much from God and from themselves. They hung a wooden cross on the wall and settled down to their normal, comfortable routines . . . remembering their own passionate devotion to God the way they remembered their first experience of adolescent love, it was something nice that happened long ago . . . but life goes on. And so, little by little, Christians became devoted to their creature comforts instead: 600 count Egyptian cotton sheets, soft leather couches, and a well-stocked wine cellar to accompany the London broil. Their “stuff” made them feel safe and cared for—if not by God, then by themselves. They decided there was no contradiction between being comfortable and being Christian, and before long it was hard to pick out Christians from the population at large. They no longer distinguished themselves by their bold love for one another or their charitable acts of kindness. No longer were they arrested for championing the poor or sharing their faith. In fact, they blended in . . . well. They avoided extremes, they decided to be nice instead of holy . . . and God sighed out loud!
Someone must have heard and decided it was time to call Christians back to their senses. He searched and searched and found that the Bible offered some clues for doing that. Israel spent forty years in the wilderness, learning to trust God; Elijah spent forty days alone before he heard the small, still voice of God on the same mountain where Moses spent forty days receiving the law from God. And of course there is this morning’s Gospel reading in Luke where Jesus also spent forty days in the wilderness being tested by the devil. It seems the point of today’s reading is that it is possible, humanly possible, to be tempted by the comforts of this world and still remain loyal to God.
So the church decided we would have a season of Lent—that is derived from an old English word Lenten, which means spring. Lent would become a “springtime” for the soul. Forty days to cleanse the system and open the eyes to what remains when all the “stuff” is gone. Forty days to remember what it is like to live by the grace of God, alone, and not by all the comforts we provide for ourselves.
Lent is like our own wilderness test (or it could be, if we took the season seriously). Let me explain what I mean by serious. Thursday morning I’m sitting in the steam room with two other guys that I can’t see because the steam is so thick. Anyway, this guy says, “I’ve really got to lose this gut. I gave up beer for Lent, yesterday being Ash Wednesday, but by last night, I just had to have a beer. Oh, hell, I guess I’ll have to confess.” I still couldn’t see this guy, but I said, “I’m not a priest, but I am a Presbyterian minister,” and the voice of the guy I still couldn’t see leans in closer and says, “Mike . . . is that you?” The undisciplined beer drinker was not only a Presbyterian—he was one of our members! So much for Lenten discipline. But I’m sure you all are stronger than our friend in the steam room.
So, imagine living for six weeks, with a few Sunday reprieves, without your pacifiers. You know the habits, substances, surroundings, or people you use to comfort yourself, to block the pain and fear. Could you live exposed for that long? It is like someone addicted to painkillers whose prescription has just run out. It is hard—you bet it is hard! It is awful, but it is necessary to encounter the world without anesthesia. To discover what life is like with no comfort but God. You know, I believe almost all of us are addicted to something—eating, drinking, work, sex, shopping, church—I don’t know, you tell me. The simplest definition of an addiction is anything that we use to fill the empty place inside of us that belongs to God alone. That hollowness we sometimes feel—that emptiness—is not a sign of something gone wrong, so don’t panic. It is the holy of holies inside. We know what the Psalmist said and yet we forget:
“Be still and know that I am God
Be still and know
Be still.”
But, we cannot be still can we? Are we afraid? You bet we are! We get that hollow, empty feeling and what do we do? We stick our pacifiers into our mouths and suck for all we are worth. They don’t nourish us; all they do is plug the hole.
To enter into the wilderness is to leave them behind—and nothing is too small to give up. A Pepsi or a chocolate bar will do. For forty days, simply pay attention to how often your mind travels in that direction. Ask yourself what happens when it happens. What is going on when you start craving a drink or a Snickers? Are you thirsty . . . hungry? Well, what is wrong with that? Are you lonely? Is it so terrible being alone? Try sitting with the feeling instead of fixing it and see what you will find out. Chances are you will hear a voice in your head that keeps warning you what will happen if you lose that pacifier. “You will starve, you will go nuts, and you will not be you any more.”
If that doesn’t work, the voice will move to level two. “That is not a pacifier—it is an energy boost. Go ahead and use it.” If you don’t fall for that one, there is always level three. “If God really loves you, you can do whatever you want. Why deprive yourself of anything?”
Now, if you don’t know whose voice that is—read Luke 4 again then tell the devil to take a hike! Resolve to spend this season of Lent doing the very thing the devil least wants you to do—move closer to God. Be still and know—it is scary—I never said it was easy!
The Bible says worship the Lord your God and serve no one else. Expect great things from God, and yes, expect great things from yourself. Believe that anything and everything is possible . . . with God—so don’t settle for less.
Friends, I believe God has called us together to become an extraordinary church. So I’m expecting great things from God . . . and from you. Who knows what God can do with the talent and resources we already have in this congregation.
Dick is right, if we just do what we are called to do—God will take care of the results.
So I encourage you to practice Lenten disciplines for the next six weeks. Be still, put aside the stuff . . . give it a try and then you can truthfully say you are living by the grace of God . . . alone.
Amen.
The Rev. Dr. Michael Lee Fitze
Palmetto Presbyterian Church
Mt. Pleasant, SC
February 10, 2008
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| February 3, 2008 Sermon |
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“SIR, WE WOULD SEE JESUS”
John 1:29-42
“I have seen and I testify that this is the Son of God.” ~John 1:34
Our building committee met again this week and we are getting close. Soon we will show you plans for our new church, and with generous gifts from the congregation and friends of Palmetto we will begin to build.
Which raises an important question: How will we acknowledge these generous gifts? Some churches have little brass plaques on everything—the pews, the font, the stained glass windows, you name it; the object has a name on it. Every time we approach the object with a plaque, we are reminded of the one who donated the object. I’m not big on plastering little brass plaques on everything in the church.
However, I would like a brass plaque on the pulpit. This plaque would not be there to remind me who donated the pulpit; rather it would remind me what the purpose of preaching is. Inscribed on this plaque would be one verse of scripture from the gospel of John: “Sir, we would see Jesus.”
That’s a reminder those of us who preach each Sunday can’t afford to forget. Folks who come to worship on Sunday are not here to see how we have set up the cafeteria this week. You aren’t here to listen to a book review of some best seller, or to hear the plot of the number one movie in theaters this week, nor are you here for personal meditation and self-reflection. You may not even be conscious of it, but you are here for an encounter. You have come to catch even a glimpse of the living God, the God who came down to earth and was “with us” in the person of Jesus Christ. “Preacher . . . we would see Jesus.” It’s an awesome responsibility to stand before you like some gatekeeper, deciding how far to open the door this week so that you and I, all of us, who would see Jesus, can come into his presence.
A few years ago I led an in-depth Bible study on Jesus using Philip Yancey’s bestseller, The Jesus I Never Knew. I suspect I could read scripture or tell you stories of Jesus based on historical data or church history and you would discover a “Jesus you never knew!”
Who is the real Jesus all Christians are called to follow? Is my Jesus the same person as yours? And how do we determine who the real Jesus is? We want so badly to see him, but we’re blinded by our own presumptions—and friends, we all have presumptions. We have a certain image of Jesus (Is your Jesus Tall or short? Does he have long hair? What color is it? Are his eyes compassionate? How old is he?). Our Jesus has certain personality traits, too—is your Jesus patient, loving, kind-hearted? Is he judgmental or full of grace? Is your Jesus ruled by his heart or his mind?
Is he someone you know so well you can speak on his behalf? Now there’s a question! One of the things that concerns me is when people are convinced they have Jesus all figured out. They know exactly what he would say or what he would do. Remember when the Christian Coalition was in its heyday, back in the 80’s? They were convinced they knew how Jesus would vote on any given issue. A ballot they cast was a ballot from Jesus. Some people presume to know much about Jesus, but I can’t be so smug. I do the same thing. I see Jesus in my own image. If Jesus wasn’t a Presbyterian, I’m sure he was at least reformed in his thinking and ministry.
In our reading this morning it becomes clear there is much about Jesus we don’t know. There’s a lot about Jesus we can’t see. It’s like he is an elephant and we are all blindfolded touching one small part of someone who is so big—and we can’t or won’t see the whole person because we’re so sure of the one part we can see. We see his grace, someone else sees his judgment, still someone else sees love and then there are those who choose not to see.
Now it would seem that if there is anyone who did know Jesus and could point to him and explain who he was, it would be John the Baptist. John was a prophet for his time, he was a popular, if somewhat unusual, religious leader, and don’t forget he was Jesus’ cousin. In our text, John points to Jesus saying, “Behold, the Lamb of the God.” John says, “I must decrease that he may increase.” Sounds like good advice for those of us who want to see Jesus; too often we let ourselves get in the way. Surely John the Baptist knows Jesus; surely John can see who Jesus really is. But twice in this story John says, “I didn’t know him. My whole ministry was anticipating him, but I didn’t know him.”
John was standing in the middle of history. “I am a voice crying in the wilderness. I know that the world as we know it—is not what God intended for it to be. I know God is bringing in something much more hopeful, but I haven’t got a clue. I can’t see it, I don’t know it yet, I can point to it, but I can’t grasp it.” John is not alone.
I think a lot of the Christian life is like that. Those of you who are raising children to become “good” people, those of you who teach school and work for the dignity of our young people, those of you who are in the business world and strive for fairness and integrity in a world that often double deals, those of you who are in medicine and work for health in a land of disease, those of you who are in law and work for justice in an unjust society, and those of us who are in the church and provide care in all aspects of life—all of us get out of bed every morning, or at least most mornings, and do our best to make the world a better place. Theologically, we probably can’t explain what we are doing. Nevertheless, here we are, following Jesus, even if we can’t say why, or toward where, or for what purpose.
In our story, John’s own disciples decide maybe they want to follow this Jesus, this one John calls “The Lamb of God” . . . but they are cautious. They don’t want to get too close, and they want to know for sure what he is all about. “Rabbi,” they ask, “where are you staying?” which means “where are you working in the world? We’d like to know what this is all about before we get too close.”
And what does Jesus say: “Come and see.” You can’t see the real Jesus at work in the world from a distance; you have to get involved in the middle of it, even when you can’t name it. Striving for a world of hope and peace when the world seems anything but . . . come and see. That’s the hard part of leading the church—people want to encounter faith from a distance, where everything is safe, where the church looks good. Let’s not get too close, we may see more than we want. We might have our faith challenged.
When you serve the church as an elder, sometimes you see more than you want to see. The church is an institution made up of sinful people who love Jesus—but still they aren’t perfect, so like everything else in life—church is a challenge.
She was there every time the church doors were open—anytime you needed help, she was available. Always in the background, she was the best worker in the church. One day I told her how much I admired her strong faith. She gave me a funny look and said, “Strong faith, you have to be kidding. I don’t have much faith. Don’t you see, that’s why I’m here all the time. I need all the help I can get seeing Jesus, understanding him, being with him. I have to stay very close, often, and I have to be close to those Jesus stays close to. That’s why I’m here. Without this church and this congregation, I reckon I’d never see Jesus.”
This minister was touring Scotland not too long ago. One afternoon he went into a magnificent Scottish cathedral. As it happened he was the only person there that day and so he walked around in the emptiness of that vast and empty space. He made his way down the nave and came to the chancel area. This particular cathedral had a winding staircase that led to a lofty pulpit. He stood at the foot of it and looked up and he saw on the pulpit that little brass plaque. He thought to himself, I cannot think of anything more inspiring than if I can stand in that pulpit and look out in this great space and read those words, “Sir, we would see Jesus.”
Sensing that no one was around, he ventured up the stairs. When he got up toward the top of the pulpit, he looked out into the great cathedral. He breathed deeply and then he looked at the plaque—and to his surprise—it read, “Remember Edna Bailey.” Evidently the pulpit was a memorial to some saint named Edna Bailey.
At first he was disappointed; he wanted to read, “Sir, we would see Jesus.” But then it dawned on him that maybe God was teaching him a truth: the only way to see Jesus is to remember Edna Bailey, and Tom Smith, and Francis Wilson—to get involved with the people of God in doing the work of God in the world.
This morning we come to The Lord’s Table as a way to remember Jesus. As you come forward, I invite you to look at all the Jesus “pictures” we have displayed throughout the cafeteria, then look at the folks who make up this congregation we call Palmetto Presbyterian—and who knows, you just might see the Jesus you never knew. Sir, we would indeed, see Jesus.
Amen.
The Rev. Dr. Michael Lee Fitze
Palmetto Presbyterian Church
Mt. Pleasant, SC
February 3, 2008
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| January 20, 2008 Sermon |
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“REMEMBERING OUR BAPTISM”
Deuteronomy 6:6-8 “These commandments that I give you today are to be upon your hearts. Impress them on your children. Talk about them when you sit at home and when you walk along the road, when you lie down and when you get up. Tie them as symbols on your hands and bind them on your foreheads." — Deuteronomy 6:6-8 There by the grace of God, go I. That is a popular saying I use all the time because it reminds me that everything I have and everything I am able to accomplish comes about through God’s wondrous and marvelous grace.
It’s a phrase that we could also use to explain baptism. You see, baptism is a sacrament, and simply defined, a sacrament is an outward sign of God’s inward grace. It is important to remember that the church doesn’t baptize—God does. And I have to believe that whenever a baptism occurs, as it did this morning when witnessed Abigail’s baptism—during those special moments . . . the Holy Spirit is present. That’s what Paul was talking about in our Epistle reading this morning. Think back to your own baptism, if you can remember that far back, or think back to a few minutes ago, witnessing Abigail’s baptism. The small children were in the cafeteria to sing and to celebrate with us this special day—so there was probably some fidgeting, some mother was probably correcting her child, someone was coughing, and someone else was clearing his throat. But when we hear the words “I baptize you in the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit”—when those words are spoken, we all sort of hold our breath and experience the sacredness of the moment. Something holy has happened. We may not be able to put it into words, but in that moment we know the covenant promise of God continues on.
Now, you do understand that in the Reformed tradition, Abigail wasn’t just dedicated or christened this morning. She wasn’t just presented to the church because this weekend she celebrated her first birthday or because she has a beautiful new dress or because her grandparents are in town. All those things are true and certainly are important, but this morning Abigail was baptized, and even though she won’t remember on her own, the events of this day, today she was officially welcomed into the community of faith.
So today marks the beginning of a life-long journey for Abigail, and it’s our obligation as her parents, her family, and her church family to nurture her along the way.
Now, I know some people are opposed to infant baptism. They say the only kind of baptism that is valid is a believer’s baptism. And I know churches that refuse to recognize another church’s baptism. But friends, the mystery of baptism lies with God . . . not us. Just as God’s grace saves us, it is God’s grace that makes baptism real—not the person being baptized and not the affiliation of the church where the baptism takes place.
Our Old Testament reading this morning is not about baptism, but it is about God’s covenant and what God expects of God’s people. In Deuteronomy, Moses reminds the Israelites of their covenant relationship with God. Now, granted the very word “Deuteronomy” means “copy of this law,” and Lord knows, there were plenty of laws for the Israelites to abide by in the Jewish community. But I want to suggest to you that it was God’s grace that delivered the people in the Exodus. It was God’s grace that kept the relationship between God and God’s people together every time the people disobeyed God. You see, time and time again the people disappointed God, they failed to keep the commandments, and they broke the law and misinterpreted God’s decrees. But still, God loved them. And there was one command the Jewish people down through the ages have kept—the command to pass on the faith to the next generation. Parents were instructed to teach their children and grandchildren, so that the story would continue and all generations would know about the mighty acts of God. Listen to our text:“Remember today that you children were not the ones who saw and experienced the discipline of the Lord your God, his majesty, his mighty hand, his outstretched arm—the signs he performed and the things he did.” Of course, none of us can remember something we haven’t been taught to begin with. It takes discipline to teach children—and it takes time. Listen again to our text:“Fix these words of mine in your hearts and minds; tie them as symbols on your hands and bind them on your foreheads. Teach them to your children, talking about them when you sit at home and when you walk along the road, when you lie down and when you get up. Write them on the doorframes of your houses and on your gates, so that your days and the days of your children may be many.” As much as I love change, I also appreciate tradition. It’s wonderful to see grandparents and parents witnessing the baptism of the youngest member of the family as the faith is passed down from one generation to the next. We can be reformed without changing everything.
By the grace of God we have been blessed with children and grandchildren in our own families, and Lord knows we are blessed with lots of children already in this new church. So, friends, we should count our blessings—and we should remember.
Martin Luther said, “Remember your baptism.” How can we do that? In Luther’s church most of the baptisms were of infants. They were presented by their mothers and fathers and they were baptized. So if they were infants, how could they remember? Luther knew when these babies were twelve or thirteen they would be confirmed in the church and they would officially claim their baptisms. “Yes,” they would say. “I accept my baptism. I remember my baptism.” Luther didn’t ask this question to make them feel guilty later on. “Aha! You’ve strayed from your baptism.” No, all of us stray from our baptism at one time or the other. We forget our baptism, we deny our baptism, or even worse, we take our baptism for granted.
What Luther had in mind was this: Remember your baptism by claiming yourself to be a child of God and by going about God’s business—serving other people. Baptism is a mystery I still don’t fully understand. The water comes right out of the kitchen tap. It is not special or holy. But what happens during the moment of baptism is. To feel the presence of the Holy Spirit, to know that you are truly a member of a particular community of faith, is to witness God’s grace.
And, friends, as we get older, it is only by God’s grace that we can remember. When I turned fifty I started doing the crossword puzzle in the paper every day and I recite the books of the Bible—any exercise to keep the memory working. But I do believe I remember almost every baptism service I have been involved with, and at my last church there were many, many baptisms.
One year, during a youth service where the theme was water, at the end of worship that day all the young people stood along the front of the church holding up signs with the date of their individual baptisms printed on each sign. As I looked out into the congregation, there was a momentary hush—and tears in many eyes. Why . . . because that congregation remembered.
In Deuteronomy, the Lord says to his chosen people Israel: Fix these words of mine in your hearts and minds—teach them to your children.
In baptism, that covenant established so long ago . . . carries on.
My prayer this morning is that we will cherish the traditions of our faith, and by God’s grace every time we celebrate a new baptism, we will indeed remember our own baptisms and uphold those covenant promises made so long ago.
Thanks be to God.
Amen.
The Rev. Dr. Michael Lee Fitze
Palmetto Presbyterian Church
Mt. Pleasant, SC
January 20, 2008
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| January 13, 2008 Sermon |
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“PROFESSIONALISM IS NOT THE ANSWER . . . IF THE QUESTION IS CHURCH?”
1 Thessalonians 2:1-12
“We loved you so much that we were delighted to share with you not only the gospel of God but our lives as well, because you had become so dear to us.” —1 Thessalonians 2:8 I’ve been busy this week visiting many of the individual families who will make up the Palmetto church family.
For good or bad, when I think of church, I think of family. You see, this is the place where we are nurtured and where we grow in the faith. And sadly, sometimes church families are as dysfunctional as our birth families—and just like home, at church we may not always like each other, but we try to love one another.
Speaking of love, I have to tell you I love church. And already I’m beginning to love this church.
I strongly agree with the third century church father Cyprian, who said, “There is no salvation outside of the church. He can no longer have God for his father, who has not the church for his mother.”
Unfortunately not everyone agrees with that statement. While a majority of Americans still say they believe in God, less than half of them belong to churches. Ask them why and they give you a wide range of answers: too busy, there’s too many hypocrites, requires some degree of commitment. And then there’s the guy that explained, “I don’t need any more guilt, thank you. I got enough of that from my mother . . . and now my wife.”
So, Christianity has gone from starting out as small family house churches to being the official religion of the Roman Empire. For years this great nation of ours was held together by the glue of the Christian church.
In case you haven’t noticed, today that very church has come unglued. So . . . what are we who love the church going to do?
Most mainline churches have responded to this current religious recession by becoming more professional than ever. We have learned to use small groups to grow churches. We offer good childcare, paved parking, athletic fields, state-of-the-art family life centers . . . there’s that word “family” again . . . we have comfortable seats and promise more programs than there are days in the week. We don’t have those amenities here at Laing, but we will.
One church discovered folks were dropping out because they were uncomfortable with threatening images like the cross and offensive words like sin—so they got rid of the cross, stopped talking about sin, and doubled their size in two years!
Of course professional churches require professional staff—let’s see, there is the executive minister, the senior pastor (who reigns in the pulpit because he is blessed with a God voice), there’s the youth minister, the minister for evangelism, and one for pastoral care. By the way, face-to-face pastoral care is reserved only for those who are ill or in a crisis, which means you have to get sick to see the clergy—many of whom are not doing all that well themselves.
Laity are crucial to the survival of the church because professional clergy are so busy these days, seeing their own therapists or taking one more time-management course. If someone in the church needs help—they call a Stephen Minister or someone on the Shepherding Program. After all, professional ministers must reserve time for their own spiritual needs, so they encourage appointments during office hours, take regular days off, and heaven help the poor soul who calls the senior pastor when one of the associates could have easily handled the problem. But don’t worry if your minister has gone and gotten too professional for you. There are plenty of volunteer pastors on the radio and TV who are there to talk 24 hours a day if you’re willing to listen and make a donation. They offer the intimacy, excitement and practical advice that may be missing from your Sunday morning worship experience. Or maybe you want to skip church altogether and just read a good “religious” book.
Or not! This summer I read Christopher Hitchens’ shocking best seller, God Is Not Great, and currently I’m reading Everything You Know About God Is Wrong (got to see what the competition is up to!). If reading is not your thing, maybe you prefer TV.
Every once in a while I see what the religious channel has to offer for late night spirituality. Have you ever seen that show where all the chairs and the piano are gold and the scary lady with the big hair and men with fake-looking beards and plastered down toupees are talking about “The Lord” as if he were the next guest on “The Tonight Show”?
Sometimes . . . no, all the time, I wonder if these folks are serving the same God I am—if they are, then one of us has misunderstood the message! Are these people for real?
Well, a good friend of mine always says, “Follow the money trail.” And that’s true, but I ask for money. We will have a mortgage to cover all those buildings we have going up soon, and I get a paycheck on the tenth and twenty-fifth of every month. So what makes me, what makes us, any different from all these other so-called followers of Christ?
These are difficult issues for me—the increasing professionalism of ministry, the growth of all these Para-Christian sects, the whole question of what it means to be faithful to God in a world that changes faster than my heart beats.
The Apostle Paul had some of the same concerns. It seems the first century church encountered the same challenges we face today. In Paul’s time, there were lots of people volunteering to do ministry and not all of them worked for God. And those who were sincere and genuine followers still didn’t always agree—which gave Paul’s culture and ours reason to dismiss the whole Christian church altogether. Meanwhile, the gospel was at stake, so Paul had to keep on ministering, and friends, so do we!
In our scripture reading this morning, Paul spells out for the Thessalonians the ways they could determine real disciples from counterfeits. The real ones are going to limp a little, he says, because getting beat up is part of the job. Let’s face it—the good news of the gospel isn’t always good news to everyone. The road to discovering God (and ourselves in the process) is a hard road at best. So if someone promises you an easy journey with shortcuts along the way—be suspicious. Real disciples understand there is no free ride.
They also have a unique way of speaking. While “professional” clergy know exactly when to flatter, when to inflame, when to go for the laugh—and most importantly, when to use the “God” voice—real disciples know they are speaking for God, so they want to pass on the message with as little distortion as possible. They want people to hear when they speak, but it is God they want to please.
Finally, Paul says—you recognize real disciples by the quality of their self-disclosure. “We were gentle among you, like a mother caring for her own children. “ Paul says in verse 9, “We love you so much we want to share not only the gospel with you, but our lives as well.” You are dear to us! Paul uses family language throughout this entire passage. You know, when I started out in ministry, I decided to give up holiness to be with my congregation. I’d rather be out there at oyster roasts and mission projects and youth events than squirreled away in my office—unavailable!
Friends, real disciples are not employees. They are members of one family—and they want every brother and sister nurtured and accounted for.
And no one can pay you enough to provide that kind of care. They can pay you to keep office hours, conduct worship services, attend team meetings and report to Presbytery, but they can’t pay you to open your heart to people, to laugh when they are born, to cry when they die, and to stay up all night with them when they are hurting. There is not enough money in the world to make us do any of that.
When we are able to give ourselves away like that (by the grace of God) then we are not just preaching the gospel anymore, we are living it, and the church indeed will become one family.
No, professionalism is not the answer for us. As tempting as it is to believe that market studies, power point presentations and contemporary worship will bring a dying church back to life, none of these is the answer. Nor will any of these set us apart from counterfeit disciples, those peddler’s of God’s word. It’s not what we say, but who we are. We are a holy people because we serve a Holy God. We are his church! My charge to each person in this new congregation is to speak and live for God’s pleasure, above all others. And remember this—as a church, we can’t possibly like each other all the time, but we can love each other because we’re all members of the same family—God’s.
Thanks be to God.
Amen.
The Rev. Dr. Michael Lee Fitze
Palmetto Presbyterian Church
Mt. Pleasant, SC
January 13, 2008
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