Come Closer to Me

Jon Burnham preached this sermon from Genesis 45:1-15 on August 17, 2008 (OT20a) at St. John's Presbyterian Church

A Buddhist parable will provide an entrance into the story of Joseph's reconciliation with brothers who betrayed him. Along the way we may learn something about letting go of the past, holding steady through the drenching storms of life, and coming closer to God and others. Listen to this parable from Thich Nhat Hahn which warns about our tendency to become enslaved to our ideas and the terrible consequences that may have on ourselves and those we love.

The story goes that a young tradesman came home and saw that his house had been robbed and burned by bandits. Right outside what was left of the house, there was a small, charred body. He thought the body belonged to his little boy. He did not know that his child was still alive. He did not know that after having burned the house, the bandits had taken his little boy away with them. In his state of confusion, the tradesman believed the boy he saw was his on. So he cried, he beat his chest and pulled out his hair in grief. Then he began the cremation ceremony.

This man loved his little boy so much. His son was his reason for being. He longed for his little boy so much that he could not abandon the little boys ashes even for one moment. He made a velvet bag and put the ashes inside. He carried the bag with him day and night, and whether he was working or resting, he was never separated from the bag of ashes. One night his son escaped from the robbers. He came to the new house built by his father. He knocked excitedly on the door at two o'clock in the morning. His father called out as he wept, still holding the bag of ashes. "Who is there?"

"It's me, your son!" the boy answered through the door.

"You naughty person, you are not my boy. My child died three months ago. I have his ashes with me right here." The little boy continued to beat on the door and cried and cried. He begged over and over again to come in, but his father continued to refuse him entry. The man held firm to the notion that his little boy was already dead and that this other child was some heartless person who had come to torment him. Finally, the boy left and the father lost his son forever. (Thich Nhat Hhan, No Death, No Fear)

This tragic story suggests what happens when we are not able to let go of the pain of the past.  The father in this parable could not let go of the false idea that his son had died and so he would not his son come closer to him when he appeared in the dead of night and knocked on his door begging to come in. The parable also has a deeper meaning. What ashes, or idea, do you hold onto at all costs?

The Buddha said that if you get caught in one idea and consider it to be "the truth," then you miss the chance to know the truth. Even if the truth comes in person and knocks at your door, you will refuse to open your mind. So if you are committed to an idea about truth or to an idea about the conditions necessary for your happiness, be careful. Our world suffers so much from dogmatic attitudes. Freedom is above all else freedom from our own notions and concepts. If we get caught in our notions and concepts, we can make ourselves suffer and we can also make those we love suffer. (Thich Nhat Hhan, No Death, No Fear, 9-10, italics mine)

Unlike the father who could not let go of the illusion of his son's death, Joseph let go of the pain of the past and opened himself to a new reality and it saved his life and eventually led him back to reconciliation with his brothers. Joseph persevered in the face of humiliation, treachery, and bullying by his brothers. He resisted seduction by his boss's wife, kept faith while imprisoned for his beliefs, and solved the problem of how to help a mighty nation survive a coming famine. How did he do all these amazing things? I think Joseph had a philosophy that sustained him. Here is Joseph's creed: "What does the Lord require of you, but to do justice, and love kindness, and walk humbly with your God?" (Micah 6:8) Joseph did justice toward his family, loved kindness in forgiving his brothers, and walked humbly with his God. That is all the Lord requires of us and, with God's help, that is what we shall do and that is whom we shall be: People who do justice, love kindness, and walk humbly with our God.

At the climactic end of the story, Joseph is Pharaoh's right hand man and his bullying brothers appear before him begging for food to save their family from famine. Instead of refusing their request, Joseph grants the wish of his bullying brothers, and explains to them, "You meant it for harm but God meant it for good." Then he says to them: "Come closer to me." When Joseph said this to his brothers they came closer and were reconciled. Essentially, Joseph exhibited hospitality. Let us be people of hospitality. Let us be a church of hospitality. We invite people to enter into our lives and into our the fellowship of St. John's by gestures, words, and body language. When it comes to hospitality, the little things really do matter.

Verna Rallings tells this moving story in the book Everyday Greatness.

Some years ago in our rural section of Southern California, a Mexican mother died leaving a family of eight children. The oldest girl, not yet seventeen, was a tiny thing. Upon her frail shoulders fell the burden of caring for the family. Taking up the task with courage, she kept the children clean, well fed, and in school.

One day when I complimented her on her achievement, she replied, "I can't take any credit for something I have to do."

 "But, my dear, you don't have to. You could get out of it."

She paused for a moment, then replied, "Yes, that's true. But what about the have to that's inside of me?" (Verna Rallings quoted in Everyday Greatness by Stephen R. Covey, 144)

Joseph did what he did for his family because of the have to that was inside him. After being sold into slavery by his step-brothers, he certainly didn't owe them anything. Yet, Joseph had the have to inside him that made him take care of his brothers. Isn't it good to know that God has that same have to inside Him? We read in the Gospel According to John: "For God so loved the world that he sent his only begotten Son. God sent not his Son into the world to condemn the world, but that the world, through him, may be saved." (John 3:16-17)

"Scientists say that if you clap your hands it may have an impact on a distant star. What is happening with us can affect a galaxy far away. And the galaxy far away can effect us. Everything is under the influence of everything else." (Thich Nhat Hhan, No Death, No Fear, 85)

When we are under the influence of God we are able to do mighty things. When we are living our lives out of the have to inside us that compels us to care for our weaker brothers and sisters, God's power will be manifest in our lives. We will keep ourselves open to God's possibilities in us for reaching out in love to others.

Kathleen Norris tells this story in her book, Amazing Grace.

One morning this past spring I noticed a young couple with an infant at an airport departure gate. The baby was staring intently at other people, and as soon as he recognized a human face, no matter whose it was, no matter if it was young or old, pretty or ugly, bored or happy or worried-looking he would respond with absolute delight.

It was beautiful to see. Our drab departure gate had become the gate of heaven. And as I watched that baby play with any adult who would allow it, I felt as awe-struck as Jacob, because I realized that this is how God looks at us, staring into our faces in order to be delighted, to see the creature he made and called good, along with the rest of creation. And, as Psalm 139 puts it, darkness is as nothing to God, who can look right through whatever evil we've done in our lives to the creature made in the divine image.

I suspect that only God, and well-loved infants, can see this way. Peter denied Jesus, and Saul persecuted the early Christians, but God could see the apostles they would become. God loves to look at us, and loves it when we will look back at him. Even when we try to run away from our troubles, as Jacob did, God will find us, and bless us, even when we feel most alone, unsure if we'll survive the night. God will find a way to let us know that he is with us in this place wherever we are, however far we thinking we've run. And maybe that's one reason we worship--to respond to grace. We praise God not to celebrate our own faith but to give thanks for the faith God has in us. To let ourselves look at God, and let God look back at us. And to laugh, and sing, and be delighted because God has called us his own. (Kathleen Norris, Amazing Grace: A Vocabulary of Grace, 150-151)

The place to begin is with the person in the mirror. Now is the time to examine the direction of your life. In the thousands of little decisions you make each day, are you moving away from God or toward God? Our intention sets the direction of our will and the direction of our will is the way we will go. Let us set our will toward the river of God's love that flows through our lives. Let us open our minds, hearts, and arms to the others in our lives. Joseph cried out to his begging brothers, "Come closer to me!" and they did and he was reconciled to his brothers. Let us hear and respond to God's loving voice which whispers to us the same loving invitation, "Come closer to me." Then respond to God's invitation and Joseph's inspiration by saying to the people around us and to all creation, "Come closer to me."

Life Goes On

Dr. Jon Burnham preached this sermon from Genesis 37:1-4, 12-28
on August 10, 2008 (OT19a) at St. John's Presbyterian Church in Houston

It has been said that struggle comes to every person. Just live long enough and it will come, perhaps again, to you. But the Spirit is with us in the middle of our struggles, great or small. The great American poet, Robert Frost, wisely said: "In three words I can sum up everything I've learned about life: It goes on." Yield yourself now to the loving, leading presence of God's spirit, as you listen to God's Word to you today in the story of Joseph and his bullying brothers.

A teenage boy named Joseph heard God speaking to him in his dreams. He dreamed about God and himself and his family. He described his dreams to his brothers. He said, "Listen to this dream I had. We were all out in the field gathering bundles of wheat. All of a sudden my bundle stood straight up and your bundles circled around it and bowed down to mine." Now what do you think about that? His brothers reply, "So! You're going to rule us? You're going to boss us around?" And they hated him more than ever because of his dreams and the way he talked.
   
Joseph was a mystic and God eventually used Joseph's mystical vision to make him the King of Egypt's right hand man. When Joseph matures, his ability to interpret dreams will save his family and an entire nation after he envisions a coming famine and leads Egypt through the crisis. But here in our text today, Joseph's mystical vision is just dawning, just beginning. Young Joseph was starting to see something inside himself that is inside each of us although we seldom see it. Other mystics have seen it. Here is how a contemporary Christian, Thomas Merton, describes this mystical "something inside us":

At the center of our being is a point of nothingness which is untouched by sin and by illusion, a point of pure truth, a point or spark which belongs entirely to God, which is never at our disposal, from which God disposes of our lives, which is inaccessible to the fantasies of our own mind or the brutalities of our own will. This little point of nothingness and of absolute poverty is the pure glory of God in us. It is so to speak His name written in us, as our poverty, as our indigence, as our dependence, as our sonship. It is like a pure diamond, blazing with the invisible light of heaven. It is in everybody, and if we could see it we would see these billions of points of light coming together in the face and blaze of a sun that would make all the darkness and cruelty of life vanish completely .... I have no program for this seeing. It is only given. But the gate of heaven is everywhere. (A Call to Contemplation, 61)

Joseph had this kind of seeing. His visions came from God shining within. He saw the gate of heaven everywhere. He awkwardly tried to explain this kind of seeing to his brothers. Eugene Peterson has an accessible interpretation of this story in his translation of the Bible called The Message:

 Joseph said to them: "I dreamed another dream—the sun and moon and eleven stars bowed down to me!"

When he told it to his father and brothers, his father reprimanded him: "What's with all this dreaming? Am I and your mother and your brothers all supposed to bow down to you?" Now his brothers were really jealous; but his father brooded over the whole business.

Joseph's father then sent him off on an errand to visit his brothers. Joseph took off, tracked his brothers down, and found them in Dothan.

They spotted him off in the distance. By the time he got to them they had cooked up a plot to kill him. The brothers were saying, "Here comes that dreamer. Let's kill him and throw him into one of these old cisterns; we can say that a vicious animal ate him up. We'll see what his dreams amount to."

Reuben heard the brothers talking and intervened to save him, "We're not going to kill him. No murder. Go ahead and throw him in this cistern out here in the wild, but don't hurt him." Reuben planned to go back later and get him out and take him back to his father.

When Joseph reached his brothers, they ripped off the fancy coat he was wearing, grabbed him, and threw him into a cistern. The cistern was dry; there wasn't any water in it.

Then they sat down to eat their supper. Looking up, they saw a caravan of Ishmaelites on their way from Gilead, their camels loaded with spices, ointments, and perfumes to sell in Egypt. Judah said, "Brothers, what are we going to get out of killing our brother and concealing the evidence? Let's sell him to the Ishmaelites, but let's not kill him—he is, after all, our brother, our own flesh and blood." His brothers agreed.

By that time the Midianite traders were passing by. His brothers pulled Joseph out of the cistern and sold him for twenty pieces of silver to the Ishmaelites who took Joseph with them down to Egypt.

Joseph was bullied by his brothers. Some of us know the feeling. We have been bullied at home, at work, or at school. Here is the story of one teenage boy who was bullied in high school, as described in the book And Words Can Hurt Forever.

    Nathan never goes to his high school library. When Nathan was a freshman, he made his way to the library on several occasions with the good intentions of a new student beginning his high school career. He knew that good grades were important to his parents, to himself, and for his future. On each and every occasion, he was met outside the doorway by a group who claimed that spot as their territory in the building. They owned it; they had power there.

    To get into the library, Nathan had to first get through a series of taunts about being a nerd, then get past a volley of objects being thrown at him. Nathan was an athlete; he was capable and strong on the field. But he was not "strong enough" to deal with the ridicule and bullying of his peers, so Nathan stopped using the library. The culture that denigrated him for trying to do his best infiltrated the rest of his high school experience. Though he was quite bright, Nathan's low grades reflected this poisoning of his social experience at school.

    Where were the teachers, staff, and other administrators when Nathan was facing this emotional abuse ? Why was this g group of bullies allowed to prevail, making each student run an emotional gauntlet before reaching the inner sanctum of the library? The answer is that Nathan attended a very large high school, and the staff at this school did not consider hallway supervision as apart of their "professional role."

    In their work about keeping school safe, Ron Avi Astor, heather Mayer, and William Behre while at the University of Michigan focused on the ways in which schools have many "unowned spaces"--places that are not supervised by adults or occupied by positive, community-minded students. Students are all aware of where the dangerous places are in the building and on the campus, and some take advantage of the opportunities to bully others. Children are particularly vulnerable in the hallways.

    Most kids will bear up under this kind of emotional violence. But some children who are not as resilient will experience psychological damage. The damage can include (but is not limited to) shame, lessened self-esteem, impaired self-image, and learned helplessness. The basic components of learned helplessness are the beliefs that one has no control over what is happening, that  a bad event will continue to recur, and that nothing can effectively happen to change the situation. As a result of these damaging perceptions, kids begin to make important choices that hurt  them academically and socially, perhaps in ways that affect the rest of their lives.

    As we see in the case of Nathan, kids who are ridiculed by peers for their attempts academically may begin to make choices that result in lower grades or reduced academic interest. Kids who are degraded by their peers can end up with shaky self-confidence, damaged self-image and self-esteem. It is not easy to buck the culture of your peers if you are being tormented for being different.

    As adults, sometimes we tend to thinks, "Students, especially teenagers, should stand up for themselves. They need to fight for what is important to them." While that sentiment has some merit, we must always be humble about matters like this. How difficult is it for adults to stand up or to stand out? On some job sites, the eager or quick workers are told by the rest, "Slow down. You're making the rest of look bad." How can we expect children to do something that most adults cannot do? Adults will tolerate racists or sexist comments at work, even when they find them offensive, because the social costs of objecting are high. Do we expect more of our kids than we do of ourselves? (And Words Can Hurt Forever: How to Protect Adolescents from Bullying, Harassment, and Emotional Violence, James Garbarine and Ellen deLara, p. 24-25)

Dorothy E. Minck describes a childhood experience when she learned a bit of wisdom from her grandmother.

In my grandmother's garden a rosebud seemed such a long time unfolding that I grew impatient, wanting to see its color and beauty. I thought we should do something about it, and appealed to Grandmother. When she told me to unfold the petals, I was thrilled. But after the petals were unfolded there was no beautiful full-blown rose such as I had visioned. I had destroyed its beauty, and the rose quickly withered and died. Grandmother then explained that it was thus with all things--we must let them unfold in their own way and in their own time. (Dorothy E. Minck, cited in Everyday Greatness: Insights and Commentary by Stephen R. Covey)

Nathan was bullied and he lost touch with his dreams. His spirit was stunted like the beautiful rose whose petals were picked too soon and quickly withered and died. In contrast, like a beautiful rose, young Joseph persevered in the face of bullying and his inner beauty unfolded in its own way in its own time. Joseph plodded along even when his brothers bullied him. For Joseph saw what Nathan could not see. Joseph saw that God was with him and within him. He kept on going with God and it eventually took him higher than anyone would have expected him to go. Thanks to Joseph's perseverance and God's grace, Joseph's dreams manifested in reality.

"The art of living is more like wrestling than dancing," said Marcus Aurelius. Joseph knew how to wrestle and he knew how to dance. More than anything, Joseph was a dreamer. May God give our young boys and girls visions and our older men and women dreams. May God grant us the courage to face bullies and the hope that even in the face of struggle, life goes on. For we know from the story of Joseph that even if we are bullied by our own family, we shall overcome some day.

Shop at Spirit Surplus Store

Dr. Jon Burnham preached this sermon from Matthew 14:3-21 on August 3, 2008

Herod had arrested John, put him in chains, and sent him to prison to placate Herodias, his current wife, who his brother Philip's former wife. John had provoked Herod by classifying his relationship with Herodias "adultery." Herod wanted to kill him, but he was afraid because so many people revered John as a prophet of God. But at his birthday celebration, he got his chance. Herodias's daughter provided the entertainment, dancing for the guests. She swept Herod away. In his drunken enthusiasm, he promised her on oath anything she wanted. Already coached by her mother, she was ready: "Give me, served up on a platter, the head of John the Baptizer." That sobered the king up fast. Unwilling to lose face with his guests, he did it—ordered John's head cut off and presented to the girl on a platter. She in turn gave it to her mother. Later, John's disciples got the body, gave it a reverent burial, and reported to Jesus. King Herod the murderer takes the life of John the Baptist. Rulers rule by division and subtraction. They take away life. Check the books and you may notice how we have lost so many civil rights since 9-11. Our liberties are being taken away. That is what rulers have always done and that is what they are doing today.
When he got the news about Herod's murder of John the Baptist, Jesus slipped away by boat to an out-of-the-way place by himself. But unsuccessfully—someone saw him and the word got around. Soon a lot of people from the nearby villages walked around the lake to where he was. When he saw them coming, he was overcome with pity and healed their sick. Immediately we notice the contrast between Jesus and Herod in Matthew's gospel. Herod kills. Jesus heals. That is the first principle here. Another is to follow in the story now.

Toward evening the disciples approached him. "We're out in the country and it's getting late. Dismiss the people so they can go to the villages and get some supper."
But Jesus said, "There is no need to dismiss them. You give them supper."
"All we have are five loaves of bread and two fish," they said.
Jesus said, "Bring them here." Then he had the people sit on the grass. He took the five loaves and two fish, lifted his face to heaven in prayer, blessed, broke, and gave the bread to the disciples. The disciples then gave the food to the congregation. They all ate their fill. They gathered twelve baskets of leftovers. About five thousand were fed.
Jesus, the compassionate one, gives life. Jesus feeds over 5,000 people. Here is the second principle in the story. Herod rules by division and life taking. Jesus rules by multiplication and life giving.

Our challenge is to be compassionate like Jesus. We are his representatives on this earth. Our compassion should include both material and spiritual bread. We are to feed people's bodies, minds and souls. We are to give them a sense of community. We are to let them into our community. There are so many people within a 20 minute drive of this church. People who are starving for what we have to give. Let's open our hearts to those in need. Let's feed their bellies and their souls. Jesus gives us the food. We are merely distributors, as his disciples distributed the bread and fish to that crowd so many years ago.

Dr. Charles Garfield tells a story about one man who found a place to stand, saying:

    Late one morning in 1984, headed for lunch in San Francisco, I drove toward one of the toll booths. I heard loud music. It sounded like a party, or a Michael Jackson concert. I looked around. No other cars with their windows open. No sound trucks. I looked at the toll booth. Inside it, the man was dancing.
        "What are you doing?" I asked.
        "I'm having a party," he said.
        "What about the rest of the these people?" I looked over at other booths; nothing moving there.
        "They're not invited."
        I had a dozen other questions for him, but somebody in a big hurry to get somewhere started punching his horn behind me and I drove off. But I made a note to myself: Find this guy again. there's something in his eye that says there's magic in his toll booth.
        Months later I did find him again, still with the loud music, still having a party.
        Again I asked, "What are you dong?"
        He said, "I remember you from the last time. I've still dancing. I'm having the same party."
        I said, "Look. What about the rest of the people . . . "
        He said,, "Stop. What do those look like to you?" He pointed down the row of toll booths.
        "They look like . . . toll booths."
        "Nooooooo imagination!
        I said, "Okay, I give up. What do they look like to you?"
        He said, "Vertical coffins."
        "What are you talking about?"
        "I can prove it. At 8:30 every morning, live people get in. They they die for eight hours. At 4:30, like Lazarus from the dead, they reemerge and go home. For eight hours, brain is on hold, dead on the job. Going through the motions."
        I was amazed. This guy had developed a philosophy, a mythology about this job. I could not help asking the next question: "Why is it different for you?? You're having a good time."
        He looked at me. "I knew you were going to ask that," he said. "I'm I'm going to be  dancer somebody." He pointed to the administration building. He pointed toward the administration building. "My bosses are in there and they are paying for my training."
        Sixteen people dead on the job, and the seventeenth, in precisely the same situation , figures out a way to lie. That man was having a party where you and I would probably not last three days. The boredom! he and I did have lunch later, and he said, "I don't understand why anybody would think my job's boring. I have a corner office, glass on all sides. i can see the Golden Gate, San Francisco, the Berkeley hills; half the Western world vacations here . . . . and I just stroll in every day and practice dancing." (Dr. Charles Garfield, A 2nd Helping of Chicken Soup for the Soul: 101 More Stories to Open the Heart and Rekindle the Spirit, 175-177)

We have everything we need here for this church to grow and grow. All that needs to change is our attitude. The growth of our church begins with our own perceptions of what we are doing here. Are we learning to dance? Or are we putting in our time until we check out at the end fo the day?

Marianne Williamson writes: 

Miracles are available in any moment when we bring the best of ourselves forward. It isn't the amount of our years that will determine the life we live now, but the amount of our love. Our future isn't determined by anything that happened 20 years ago, 30 years ago, or even 10 minutes ago. It's determined by who we are and what we think, right here, right now, in this moment. Almost every hour of every day, we'll find ourselves in a situation where we can be now who we weren't before, because we know now what we didn't know before. And from this newness in our being springs fresh opportunities we could never have imagined. God specializes in new beginnings. (The Age of Miracles, p. 60)

In times of need we go to the Spirit Surplus Store to find what we need: More love, more light, more peace, more joy, more fullness of life. As we take this bread and drink this wine, we shop at the Spirit Surplus Store and God gives us all the supplies we need. We have been blessed with a surplus of Holy Spirit. God calls us to give it away. The more we give away the more abundance we receive. We can never out give God. That will never happen. The rulers of this world want to divide, subtract and kill but God calls the church to unite, multiply and birth God's kingdom on this earth.

Let's take one last backward glance at Jesus' feeding of the 5,000 and notice the result, according to Matthew's gospel. The story ends without amazement at the miracle. There is no me mention of Jesus' fame spreading throughout the region. Why? Was this miracle not considered impressive enough? No. Biblical scholars suggest this story is an inside story. This is a church story. This is a story about us! This is how God wants to multiply us! This story was recited when the early church gathered at the Lord's Table.

As we gather for the Lord's Supper today, remember how Jesus fed the 5,000 men plus women and children and know that there is more than enough here to feed us and thousands and thousands and millions and billions more people. Jesus gives this congregation enough to feed many more people than we are feeding now. Jesus multiplies what we have. We have more than enough to share. There is no oil shortage in this congregation. We have more than enough Spirit to last us for the next 50 years. Let's go shopping at the Spirit surplus store. There is more Spirit in stock there than we will ever need and it is free for the asking. Pick up some extra love and deliver it to your friends and neighbors. We will never run out of God's love no matter how much of it we give away. That is the promise of the feeding of the 5,000. That is the promise of the sacrament of the Lord's Supper.

The Ultimate Security

Jon Burnham preached this sermon from Romans 8:26-39 on July 27 (OT17a) at St. John's Presbyterian Church

We are all aware of the rising price of basic foodstuffs such a loaf of bread or a gallon of milk. A few weeks ago, The Guardian newspaper in London featured a satirical story about a G8 gathering of global elites. The purpose of their conference was to address the global foot shortage and mass starvation of humanity. The article from Tuesday July 8, 2008, read:

As the food crisis began to bite, the rumblings of discontent grew louder. Finally, after a day of discussing food shortages and soaring prices, the famished stomachs of the G8 leaders could bear it no longer.

The most powerful bellies in the world were last night compelled to stave off the great Hokkaido Hunger by fortifying themselves with an eight-course, 19-dish dinner prepared by 25 chefs. This multi-pronged attack was launched after earlier emergency lunch measures - four courses washed down with Château-Grillet 2005 - had failed to quell appetites enlarged by agonising over feeding the world's poor.

The G8 gathering had been seen as a "world food shortages summit" as leaders sought to combat spiraling prices of basic foodstuffs in the developed world, and starvation in the developing world.

But not since Marie Antoinette was supposed to have leaned from a Versailles palace window and suggested that the breadless peasants eat cake can leaders have demonstrated such insensitivity to daily hardship than at the luxury Windsor hotel on the Japanese island of Hokkaido.

After discussing famine in Africa, the peckish politicians and five spouses took on four bite-sized amuse-bouche to tickle their palates. The price of staple foods may be soaring, but thankfully caviar and sea urchin are within the purchasing power of leaders and their taxpayers - the amuse-bouche featured corn stuffed with caviar, smoked salmon and sea urchin, hot onion tart and winter lily bulb.

They have told their people to tighten their belts for lean times ahead, but you feared for presidential and prime ministerial girdles after the chance to tuck into further dishes including milk-fed lamb, roasted lamb with cepes, and black truffle with emulsion sauce. Finally there was a "fantasy" dessert, a special cheese selection accompanied by lavender honey and caramelized nuts, while coffee came with candied fruits and vegetables.

Leaders cleverly skated around global water shortages by choosing from five different wines and liqueurs.

Earlier, the heads of state had restricted themselves to a light lunch of asparagus and truffle soup, crab and supreme of chicken served with nuts and beetroot foam, followed by a cheese selection, peach compote, milk ice-cream and coffee with petits fours.

Fresh from instructing his population to waste less food, it can only be hoped that Gordon Brown polished off every single morsel on his plate.

Andrew Mitchell, the shadow secretary of state for international development, said: "The G8 have made a bad start to their summit, with excessive cost and lavish consumption. Surely it is not unreasonable for each leader to give a guarantee that they will stand by their solemn pledges of three years ago at Gleneagles to help the world's poor. All of us are watching, waiting and listening." (Patrick Wintour and Patrick Barkham, The Guardian, Tuesday July 8, 2008)

We are watching, waiting and listening for something that will never happen. The elite globalists who would rule our world have no sympathy for common people and no intention of helping the poor. In this sense, although they be fabulously wealthy, they have no class. Compare their self serving attitude to these stories about the attitude and behavior of some people whom the global elites would consider to be so-called commoners.

Booker T. Washington struggled against deep-seated white prejudice to establish his Tuskegee Institute in Alabama. One day, as he passed the mansion of a wealthy woman to whom he was just another black, he heard her call out, "Come here, boy, I need some wood chopped."  

Without a word, Washington peeled off his jacket, picked up the ax and went to work, not only cutting a pile of wood but carrying it into the house.

He had scarcely left when a servant said, "That was Professor Washington, Ma'am." Abashed, the woman went to the Institute to apologize. Replied the educator: "There's no need for apology, madam. I'm delighted to do favors for my friends." The woman became one of Tuskegee's warmest and most generous supporters. Washington refused to be disturbed by insult or persecution. (Clarence W. Hall in Everyday Greatness by Stephen Covey, 345)

Here is another story of a person the globalists would consider a "commoner" who displays some uncommon wisdom. This story is cited in the book Everyday Greatness by Stephen Covey. This anonymous story teller relates how his mother solved a difficult conflict with her neighbors.

Our family of eight had a nice plot with a vegetable garden bordered by lilac bushes. A tenement in back of us was populated by folks who used to throw their trash--old shoes and socks, an assortment of things--into our garden. My older brothers and I thought that these people--they weren't called polluters then--should be told off.

Mother, who had never got beyond grammar school in the Old Country, and who had never heard of "psychology," told us to go out and pick lilacs. Then, she directed us to give each of the dozen families in back a bouquet, and say our mother thought they might enjoy them.

Somehow, a miracle happened, no more pollution. (As told to Leo Aikman, Atlanta Constitution, cited in Everyday Greatness by Stephen Covey, 345)

That story illustrates the benefits of following what Christians call the golden rule. Jesus said: "Do unto others as you would have them do unto you." In other words, if you want some respect, show respect to others. And if you can manage to show a little love, that is even more powerful. For love is the most powerful weapon of all.

Raised in an abusive home, a young woman felt bitterness toward her parents. But when diagnosed with breast cancer, she determined to love them in spite of the past.

Each morning as she left for work she'd tell her mother she loved her. Her mother never answered.

Then one day, after about three months, the daughter was late for work and rushed out of the house. Her mother hurried to the door. "You forgot something," she yelled. "What?" the young woman asked. "You forgot to say I love you." they embraced. They cried. They healed. (Bernie S. Siegel, Prescriptions for Living, 349)

If we want to address the powers that be, speaking a word of justice, we must also get our own house in order. One of  love's finest rewards occurs when enemies are made into friends.

He drew a circle that shut me out--
heretic, rebel, a thing to flout.
But Love and I had the wit to win:
We drew a circle that took him in.  (Edwin Markham, cited in Everyday Greatness by Stephen Covey, 345)

     The question before our congregation is how we will show hospitality. Are we drawing a circle that shuts people out of our fellowship? Or are we drawing a circle that takes people into our church family? Hospitality is the key ingredient in this recipe. We show hospitality when we greet the visitor. We show hospitality when we let people be who they are even as we challenge them to become more than that through Christ. Let's intentionally draw circles that take people in.
    I saw an example of this kind of community support for the individual at the Lafabah celebration. Lafabah is an organization of West Cameroonian tribe members now living in Houston. They celebrated their 20th anniversary in Houston on Friday evening in a ballroom in the Crowne Plaza West hotel. As I watched the crowd of 200 or so Camerooni and other African expatriots, I witnessed a community where children were welcome and supported, the women and men support one another and the children and young people. As part of the ceremony, a tribe member flew in from Paris, France, to present an award to St. John's Presbyterian Church for our support of the tribe. I was honored to receive this plaque on behalf of our church. Some of you may recall that Lafabah used our church facilities for a conference in which they jump started a medical university in Cameroon. Leonie and other members of our congregation are part of Lafabah. Their energy, creativity and sense of community are an example of the ultimate power of love.
    It's not: "I think, therefore I am." It's not: "I shop, therefore, I am." It's this: "I am loved, therefore I am." This sense of community goes against the grain of our consumerist culture where each person is weighed and measured according to how much tax income they will provide the government or how much they produce and consume in the society. We are human beings made in the image of God. That is what we must remember and demonstrate if we are have any hope against a global elite who views us as sheep to be manipulated for their own personal gain.
    The current attitude of the global elite toward ordinary people is nothing new. The Ceasar's and Senate in Paul's day was corrupt and showed disdain for ordinary people. When he wrote his letter to the Romans, some in Rome, which in Latin in Roma, thought of themselves as living in the city of love, since "Roma" spelled backwards is "Amore," meaning "Love" in Latin. Ancient Rome envisioned herself as a city that embodied love, perhaps seeing herself as a god named love. But her attitude and actions toward the people in the streets provided little evidence of love. In such a place, Paul's message of being loved by the one true God made him a dangerous citizen. Paul's brand of Christianity elevated slaves and common women and men as children of God.
    When we live out the radical love of God for us, we too, may become dangerous citizens. We may become dangerous to the global elite, the G-8 clubbers, who lavishly feast while admonishing us to fast and while millions of humans die of starvation. Authentic Christian discipleship is as counter cultural today as it was in ancient Rome. When we find ourselves by losing ourselves in loving service for others, the powers that be do not know how to handle us. We become less open to the brainwashing of the media. We find ourselves turning off our TV sets and tuning into serving others. We find ourselves less swayed by the immoral dictates of a top-down culture. Yes, Christianity is dangerous to the elite globalists who would run our world.
    That is a scary thought for American Christians. We are not accustomed to being in opposition to our would-be rulers. There may even be some danger for us in this adventure. But God will be will us. As Paul puts it in Romans chapter 8: "For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord." (v. 38-39)
     This is a challenging time to live. Many millions of humans face the prospect of physical starvation. Other millions seek spiritual nourishment. However, I am bullish about the future of humanity and the future of this church. As we continue to reach out to love the world from the Christ within us, our future is secure. Our recipe for success is based on a feeding a starving world with a heaping helping of God's love. God's love is the ultimate security for our world, for our church, and for ourselves. Let us not be deceived into seeking security anywhere else but in God's loving embrace. Divided, we fall. United, we stand. Community is the key to the survival of our species. Community is the key to our survival as a church. Community is the key to our survival as individuals. We must support one another and all human beings. This is the love's dictate. This is our ultimate security.

Why We Go to Church

Jon Burnham preached this sermon from Genesis 28:10-19a
on July 20, 2008 at St. John's Presbyterian Church in Houston

Benjamin Franklin used a certain technique to make significant decisions. He divided a sheet of paper in half and wrote "Pro" on one side and "Con" on the other side. Then during three or four days consideration, he put down under the different heads a short hint of the different motives, that at different times occurred to him, for or against the measure. When he had the columns filled in he weighted one against the other and started scratching out a "pro" one on this side if it was balanced by a "con" on the other side. Eventually it would become clear which side of the "pro" or "con" list was the strongest. He then would make his decision. Franklin called this technique "moral or prudential algebra."  You may want to use Franklin's moral algebra if you face a difficult decision.

Our hard choice this morning is what to make of this character named Jacob. Let's try Franklin's moral algebra on Jacob. Imagine two columns on a sheet of paper with one side being pro and another side being con. Now list Jacob's traits. Pro: Tenacious, clever, aggressive, industrious. Con: Deceitful, greedy, liar, thief, unethical in both business and personal affairs, untrustworthy, possible psychopathic.

And the "Con" list continues. Jacob is the joker who burned his brother out of his birthright. Jacob is the joker who tricked his father-in-law out of most of his fortune. Pretty soon we see that in judging Jacob's character the "con" side of the equation wins hands down. We then wonder how this scoundrel named Jacob ever became a hero in the Hebrew Bible. Although the balance of his life came down in the "con" category, Jacob still gets God's blessing. We don't know why this happened. Here is what we do know from this text. We know that Jacob was a morally compromised person and we know that God met with Jacob. Jesus said he came to seek and save sinners, and the God of Israel sought and saved this sinner named Jacob. This world is a place of meeting with God.

Writer Ann Lamotte describes an event where she met God, as she says ...

It's funny: I always imagined when I was a kid that adults had some kind of inner toolbox, full of shiny tools: the saw of discernment, the hammer of wisdom, the sandpaper of patience. But then when I grew up I found that life handed you these rusty bent old tools--friendships, prayer, conscience, honesty--and said, Do the best you can with these, they will have to do. And mostly, against all odds, they are enough.

Not long ago I was driving Sam and his friend Josh over to Josh's house where the boys were going to spend the night. But out of the blue, Josh changed his mid about wanting Sam to stay over. "I'm tired," he said suddenly "and I want to have a quiet night with my mom." Sam's face went white and blank; he has so little armor. He started crying. I tried to manipulate Josh into changing his mine, and I even sort of vaguely threatened him, hinting that Sam or I might cancel a date with him sometime, but he stated firm. After a while Sam said he wished we'd all get hit by a car, and Josh stared out the window nonchalantly. I thought he might be about to start humming. It was one of those times when you wish you were armed so you could attack the kid who has hurt your own child's feelings.
    "Sam?" I asked. "Can I help in any way? Shall we pray?"
    "I just wish I'd never been born."
    But after a moment, he said yes, I should pray. To myself.
    So I prayed that God would help me figure out how to stop living in the problem and to move into the solution. That was all. We drove along for a while. I waited for sign of improvement. Sam said, "I guess Josh wishes I had never been born."
    Josh stared out the window: dum de dum.
    I kept asking God for help, and after a while I realized something--that Josh was not enjoying this either. He was just trying to take care of himself, and I made the radical decision to let him off the hook. I imagined gently lifting him off the hook of my judgment and setting him back on the ground.
    And a moment later, he changed his mind. Now, maybe this was the result of prayer, or forgiveness; maybe it was a coincidence, I will never know. But even before Josh changed his mind, I did know one thing for sure, and this was that Sam and I would be going to church the next morning. Mary Williams would be sitting in the back near the door, in a crumpled hat. Sam would hug her; she would close her eyes and smell the soft skin of his neck, just below his ears.
    What I didn't know was that Josh would want to come with us too. I didn't know that when I stopped by his house to pick up Sam the next morning, he would eagerly run out ahead of Sam to ask if he could come. And another thing I didn't know was that Mary Williams was going to bring us another bag of dimes. It had been a little while since her last dime drop, but just when I think we've all grown out of the ritual, she brings us another stash. Mostly I give them to street people. Some sit like tchotchkes on bookshelves around the house. Mary doesn't know that professionally I'm doing much better now; she doesn't know that I no longer really need people to slip me money. but what's so dazzling to me, what's so painful and poignant, is that she doesn't bother with what I think she knows or doesn't know about my financial life. She just knows we need another bag of dimes, and that is why I make Sam go to church. (Traveling Mercies: Some Thoughts on Faith, 103-104)

I thought about that story this week during Vacation Bible School as I considered why people come to church. Church attendance is no longer a cultural expectation as it was in the 1950's. No one is expected to come to church in 2008. But some people still come. I wonder what they find here. I wonder if they find something similar to what Anne Lamott finds in her church: A spiritual family. Lord knows none of us is perfect. And then I think back to that story of Jacob. I remember how God came down and met with this schemer, this manipulator, this wheeler - dealer, less than honest, clever man named Jacob. And I start to wonder whether the story of Jacob is supposed to tell us more about who God is and what God is like than it is to tell who Jacob is and what he is like.
  
I came across a riddle this week.

It's greater than GOD.
More cruel than devil.
The poor have it.
The rich need it.
And if you eat it, you'll die.
What is it?

The answer is: nothing.

'Nothing' is greater than GOD.
Nothing is more cruel than devil.
The poor have nothing.
The rich need nothing.
And if you eat nothing, you'll die.

When I reflected on Jacob's story, I finally realized it meant nothing. It meant nothing, that is, unless I put myself into the story. Once I put myself into the story, it made sense. For you see, I am Jacob. And so are you. We have our dreams and visions. We have our faults and sins. But most of all, we have one an other. And in the midst of our broken lives, God comes and meets us here in this place. Once a week. Every Sunday morning. We gather here to support one another. When the people of God come to the church, God meets us here. Someone once said, "Christians aren't perfect. Just forgiven." And that is why we go to church. Today some of our congregation left on a Mexico Mission Trip. Let us keep them in prayer as they undertake this meaningful and significant pouring out of themselves in service to others. Let us pour ourselves out in prayer for them so that they may pour themselves out in service to others.

Our Mexico Mission Team will learn what they have to offer to the church and the world. They will learn that it takes all kinds of people to make a successful mission trip. Some people may tend to be like me: Soft-hearted, reflective, cautious, and idealistic. Others may be more hands-on, forceful, decisive, and candid. Some of them, like Jeanne, are organized, factual, detailed, and scheduled. It takes people with different strengths to make an effective mission team. And that's what we are as a church. We are a mission team. We need people like me who can generate ideas and concepts and we need people who support and manage change. We need people like Bob who take action and get things done. We need people like Shirley who are organized and detailed. And we need newcomers too. We are always open to what new people bring to the mix. Each one of us is needed here. Each of us has an important role to play in this blended family. We are a spiritual, blended family who have been brought together by God to fulfill a mission in the world. We find here people who accept us for who we are. We find here a blended spiritual family where we may use our God-given gifts and talents to bless God's world. That's why we come to church.

In the end, we are all broken, imperfect Jacobs, grasping for God, hoping he shows up when we need him. Some of us have learned the truth of that old gospel song: "I need thee every hour; teach me thy will; and thy rich promises in me fulfill." We come to church and God meets us here. That's why we come to church. If you have been attending this church often, or if today is your first time, consider joining our spiritual family. Speak to me after the service to learn how to join the church. Or, you may want to continue coming for awhile before you take the step of officially joining the church. Whatever you decide, know that you are welcome in this blended spiritual family called St. John's Presbyterian Church.

Good Soil Bears Fruit

Jon Burnham preached this sermon from Matthew 13:18-23 at St. John's Presbyterian Church in Houston on July 13, 2008

    There has been so much death this week in this church and this community. On Monday, Abel DeSouza died. On Tuesday, the father of one of the children on my son's baseball team died. The father was about my age and his son was in the 3rd grade. On Friday, I conducted a memorial service for a beloved church member, Ruth Davis. Today, I read in the Houston Chronicle about the death of a beloved physician in Houston.  Dr. Michael Ellis DeBakey, internationally acclaimed as the father of modern cardiovascular surgery — and considered by many to be the greatest surgeon ever — died Friday night at The Methodist Hospital in Houston. He was 99. It's been one of those weeks when it is hard to catch your breath. Yet, even in the midst of grief, there is reason for hope.

    Have you hard the story of Teddy Stallard? Teddy Stallard certainly qualified as "one of the least": disinterested in school musty, wrinkled clothes, hair never combed; one of those kids in school with a deadpan face; an expressionless, glassy, unfocused stare. When Miss Thompson spoke to Teddy he always answered in monosyllables. Unattractive, unmotivated, and distant, he was just plain hard to like.

    Even though his teacher said she loved all in her class the same, down inside she wasn't being completely truthful. Whenever she marked Teddy's papers, she got a certain perverse pleasure out of putting Xs next to the wrong answers, and when she puts the Fs at the top of the papers, she always did it with a flair. She should have known better; she had Teddy's records and she knew more about him than she wanted to admit. The record read:

1st Grade: Teddy shows promise with his work and attitude, but poor home situation.

2nd Grade: Teddy could do better. Mother is seriously ill. He receives little help at home.

3rd Grade: Teddy is a good boy but too serious. He is a slow learner. His mother died this year.
4th Grade: Teddy is very slow, but well-behaved. His father shows no interest.

    Christmas came and the boys and girls in Miss Thompson's class brought her Christmas present. They piled their presents on her desk and crowded around to watch her open them. Among the presents there was one from Teddy Stallard. She was surprised that he had brought her a gift, but he had. Teddy's gift was wrapped in brown paper and was held together with Scotch tape. On the paper were written the simple words, "For Miss Thompson from Teddy." When she opened Teddy's present out fell a gaudy rhinestone bracelet, with half the stones missing, and a bottle of cheap perfume.

    The other boys and girls began to giggle and smirk over Teddy's gifts, but Miss Thompson at least had enough sense to silence them by immediately putting on the bracelet and putting some of the perfume on her wrist. Holding her wrist up for the other children to smell, she said, "Doesn't it smell lovely?" And the children, taking their cues form the teacher, readily agrees with "oohs" an d"aahs."
    At the end of the day, when school was over and the other children had left, Teddy lingered behind. He slowly came over to their desk and said softly, "Miss Thompson ... Miss Thompson, you smell just like my mother ... and her bracelet looks real pretty on you, too. I'm glad you liked my presents." When Teddy left, Miss Thompson got down on her knees and asked God to forgive her.

    The next day when the children came to school, they were welcomed by a new teacher. Miss Thompson had become a different person. She was no longer just a teacher; she had become an agent of God. She was now a person committed to loving her children and doing things for them that would live on after her. She helped all the children, but especially the slow ones, and especially Teddy Stallard. By the end of that school year, Teddy showed dramatic improvement. He had caught up with most of the students and was even ahead of some.

    She didn't hear from Teddy for a long time. Then one day, she received a note that read:

Dear Miss Thompson:
    I wanted you to be the first to know. I will be graduating second in my class.
    Love, Teddy Stallard

Four years later, another note came:

Dear Miss Thompson:
    They just told me I will be graduating first in my class. I wanted you to be the first to know. The university has not been easy, but I like it.
    Love, Teddy Stallard

And four years later:

Dear Miss Thompson:
    As of today, I am Theodore Stallard, M.D. how about that? I wanted you to be the first to know I am getting married next month, the 27th to be exact. I want you tom come and sit where my mother would sit if she were alive. you are the only family I have now; Dad died last year.
    Love. Teddy Stallard

Miss Thompson went to that wedding and sat where Teddy's mother would have sat. She deserved to sit there; she had done something for Teddy that he could never forget. (Author unknown, Submitted by Bertie Synoweic and Chuck Dodge to A Second Helping of Chicken Soup for the Soul, 216-128)

    Miss Thompson found the secret of joy through serving children in her role as a teacher. She became a mentor to her students after her experience with Teddy Stallard. in regard to Miss Thompson, Jesus said: "This is the one who hears the word and understands it, who indeed bears fruit and yields, in one case a hundredfold, in another sixty, and in another thirty." (Matthew 13:23)

    We tend to think when good things happen to us we are happy and when bad things happen to us we are sad but Harvard psychologist Daniel Gilbert disagrees and claims to have evidence that proves otherwise. Here is what he says in his book, Stumbling Upon Happiness:

    Forget Yoga. Forget liposuction. And forget those herbal supplements that promise to improve your memory, enhance your mood, reduce your waistline, restore your hairline, prolong your lovemaking, and improve your memory. If you want to be happy and healthy, you should try a new technique that has the power to transform the grumpy, underpaid chump you are now into the deeply fulfilled, enlightened individual you've always hoped to be. If you don't believe me, then just consider the testimony of some folks who've tried it:

          o "I am so much better off physically, financially, mentally, and in almost every other way."
    (JW from Texas)
          o "It was a glorious experience." (MB from Louisiana)
          o "I didn't appreciate others nearly as much as I do now." (CR from California)


    Who are these satisfied customers, and what is the miraculous technique they're all talking about? Jim Wright, former Speaker of the United States House of Representatives, made his remark after committing sixty-nine ethics violations and being forced to resign in disgrace. Morese Bickham, a former inmate, made his remark upon being released from the Louisiana state Penitentiary where he'd served thirty-seven years for defending himself against the Ku Klux Klansmen who'd shot him. And Christopher Reeve, the dashing star of Superman, made his remark after an equestrian accident left him paralyzed from the neck down, unable to breathe without the help of a ventilator. The moral of the story? If you want to be happy, healthy, wealthy, and wise, then skip the vitamin pills and the plastic surgeries and try public humiliation, unjust incarceration, or quadriplegia instead.

    Uh-huh. Right. Are we really supposed to believe that people who lose their jobs, their freedom, and their mobility are somehow improved by the tragedies that befall them? If that strikes you as a far-fetched possibility, then you are not alone. For at least a century, psychologists have assumed that terrible events--such as having a loved one die or becoming the victim of a violent crime--must have a powerful, devastating, and enduring impact on those who experience the. But the fact is that while most bereaved people are quite sad for a while, very few become chronically depressed and most experience relatively low levels of relatively short-lived distress. Indeed, studies of those who survive major traumas suggest that the vast majority do quite well, and that a significant portion claim that their lives were enhanced by the experience. I know, I know. It sounds suspiciously like the title of a country song, but the fact is that most folks do okay when things go pretty bad. That fact is that negative events do affect us, but they generally don't affect us as much or for as long as we expect them to. (Stumbling on Happiness by Daniel Gilbert, 165-168)

     Country Music star, and Texas icon, Willie Nelson, says: "Sixty years ago, if I'd had the opportunity to lay out my life just the way I wanted it to happen--whatever I would have planned would have paled in comparison with what's actually happened. And all I can say about that is . . . 'Fortunately, I wasn't in control.'" (Willie Nelson, The Tao of Willie, 93) Well said, Willie. Fortunately, you weren't in control of your own life. And fortunately, neither are we. Some folks think we should pray because we need to change God's mind. Wrong. We pray because God needs to change our mind. And one of the things God needs to change our mind from is the idea that we are in control of our lives. Not only are we not in control of our lives, we are not in the world. Once again, that distinction belongs to God alone. What a relief it is when we finally realize that we are not God and we are not in control of our own life and we are not in control of the world.

    We don't always understand why things happen. Why does a young child lose his mother or father when he is in third grade? Why do so many people die from cancer? How can a widow ever recover from the death of a beloved spouse? In the face of such hard questions, Jesus speaks the parable of the good soil. Good soil bears fruit. Good soil represents a fertile inner life in which the seed of God's Word takes root . As Jesus put it: "This is the one who hears the word and understands it, who indeed bears fruit and yields, in one case a hundredfold, in another sixty, and in another thirty." The good fruit is the fruit of the spirit that grows inside us: Love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, gentleness, and self control. The irony is that when we treat others with love and respect the fruit of the spirit grows within us.

No matter where we are in our lives today, even in our times of grief, we trust that God is still in control, and believe the grace of God is still at work in us.  As Jesus said in another parable, "A seed cannot grow unless it dies and is planted in the ground." May the grief that we all experience plant a seed of hope within our hearts. For as the Apostle Paul put it: "Whether we live or whether we die, we belong to the Lord." There is more to existence than our physical bodies. We don't know the half of it. Whether we live or whether we die, we belong to the Lord. This is not a mushy religious sentiment. This is a fact.


 

Growing Pains

The Rev. Dr. Jon Burnham preached this sermon from Romans 7:15-25a
on July 6, 2008 (OT14a) at St. John's Presbyterian Church in Houston, Texas

---

    George Burns, himself Jewish, describes a childhood experience that led him to a short-lived desire to join a  Presbyterian Church. He begins:
    Unlike my father, my mother was a very practical lady. Nothing ever flustered her. No matter what the problem was, somehow she knew how to handle it.
    A perfect example happened when I was seven years old. I was singing with three other Jewish kids from the neighborhood. We called ourselves the Peewee Quartet. Now, there was a big department store, Siegal & Cooper, that threw an annual picnic, and the highlight was an amateur contest with talent representing all the churches in New York. Right around the corner from where we lived was a little Presbyterian church. How it got in that neighborhood, I'll never know; it certainly didn't do big business.
    Well, they had no on to enter in the contest, so the minister asked us four boys to represent the church. We jumped at the chance. So that Sunday, there we were, the Peewee quartet--four Jewish boys sponsored by a Presbyterian church --and our opening song was "When Irish Eyes are Smiling." We followed that with "Mother Machree" and won first prize. The church got a purple velvet altar cloth, and each of us kids got an Ingersoll watch, which was worth about eighty-five cents.
    Well, I was so excited I ran all the way home to tell my mother. When I got there she was on the roof hanging out the wash. I rushed up to her and said, "Mama, I don't want to be a Jew anymore!"
    If this shocked her, she certainly didn't show it. She just looked at me and calmly said, "Do you mind me asking why?"
    I said, "Well, I've been a Jew for seven years and never got anything. I was a Presbyterian for one day and I got a watch." And I held out my wrist and showed it to her.
    She glanced at it and said, "First help me hang up the wash, then you can be a Presbyterian."
    While I was hanging up the wash some water ran down my arm and got inside the watch. It stopped running, so I became a Jew again. (Chicken Soup for the Jewish Soul, 88-89, George Burns)  Invite your friends to join us for Vacation Bible School which starts next Sunday evening. Perhaps they will want to join St. John's Presbyterian Church -- at least until their watch stops working.  

   A Jewish proverb says: "A mother understands what a child does not say."  In The Teen Whisperer, Mike Linderman describes a conversation between a mother and her daughter.
    The other day I walked into the kitchen, where my wife, Helen, and my daughter, Alicia, were having a conversation. They were just catching up on their day, and all was going well. Alicia was also leafing through a catalog. She turned the magazine to my wife and said, "This top is cute."
    Helen looked at the photograph and said, "But where could you wear something like that?"
    Alicia shrugged her shoulders. "Anywhere. Why?"
    Helen pursed her lips and looked away for a moment. "It's just kind of, I don't know . . . . It's not something I'd think you'd wear, that's all."
    "And just what do you think I'd be likely to wear? A frumpy sweater? A raincoat?"
    "Alicia, honey, all I'm saying . . ."
    "Jeez, mom, you don't have to tell me what you're saying. I KNOW what you're saying. You are so critical all the time of every single thing I do, I say, I wear."
    "Please don't exaggerate. You always do this. You don't have to be so sensitive about every little thing I say."
    'Oh, so that's another one of my faults?"
    "That's not what I'm saying. All I'm saying is I don't think that top is cute, that's all. End of story."
    "Why didn't you just say so?" Helen flips to another page, "I like it, but it's not anything I would want or wear."
    "Have you thought about what you might want to do for your birthday."
    "I have an exam in chemistry, and I haven't had a chance to review a single thing in the last chapter." (Mike Linderman, The Teen Whisperer: How to Break Through the Silence and Secrecy of Teenage Life, p. 208) This strained conversation reflects Paul's conflicted feelings in Romans, Chapter Seven, where he describes the struggle we all experience. We want to communicate one thing but end up saying something else..

     In Chicken Soup for the Jewish Soul, Amy Lederman describes her relationship with her grandmother, Edna Wolf.
    "Born in the small Russian town of Lust in 1887, Edna Wolf left Russia at eighteen months and sailed to America with her two older sisters, her brother and her father. Her mother was forced to stay behind because she could not leave her own blind mother alone. When she was finally able to come to America, she traveled with nothing but the clothes on her back. "But she tricked them," Grandma would tell me with a twinkle in her eye. "She hid our Sahibs candlesticks in the lining of her winter coat and never took that coat off until she landed in New York."
    Those candlesticks were a testimony to a way of life; they were the triumph of a broken family fighting to find their way back to one another in a land that promised everything.
    Grandma lit those candlesticks every holiday and each Shabbat. She would close her eyes and mumble while swaying back and forth in front of the dancing flames. As a young girl, I thought she knew everything, that the power of the world rested in those small, freckled fingertips that spread the warmth of the candle's light. I saw her as the source of our family tradition, the ultimate word on what we should all do and be.
    I will never forget the day I visited her in the nursing home just a few months before she died. She had become diminished, not so much by age but by the bitter ironies of her life. She seemed happy when I told her about my two children, my home, my husband. But my law career and the many aspirations I had were of no real interest to her. She held my hand on the small sofa, and I stared at the big, brown freckles that covered her skin. She needed so much reassurance now, to know that her life had been meaningful.
    I painted her fingernails while we talked, and she reminisced about the old days. Of her sisters and the hours they spent laughing together in the kitchen, sharing secrets, when they all lived together in the house on Fair Street. Of my father and what a "prince" he had been but how he never understood her anymore. I sensed in her ramblings that she was in another time and place entirely.
    As I got ready to leave, she slowly got up from her chair. She walked towards me and then, changing her mind, headed directly toward the hutch that contained the few remaining items she kept from the old days. She took down the beautiful brass candlesticks that I had loved since I was a little girl. "My darling girl," she said with tears in her eyes, "you have always been filled with the love of your Jewishness. May you find joy and meaning in whatever you chose to do with your life. But remember, nothing you do will be more important than your family." She handed me the candlesticks and said, "It is only right that these should belong to you now."
    It has been almost four years now since my grandma died. it seems that all I need is the scent of cinnamon or a jar of Ponds Cold Cream to bring her back to me. But I know that as time passes she will become harder to recall. I am certain this is why she gave me her candlesticks. For each time I light the candles, I feel her love for me gently burning in the flames and bestowing upon me the power and inner-strength to create a life of meaning and purpose. And in doing so, I have come to understand the legacy of her life and the meaning of her blessing. (Chicken Soup for the Jewish Soul, 204-206, AmyHirshberg Lederman ) "The mother's heart is the child's schoolroom," said Henry Ward Beecher. And I think we can add to that, "The grandmother's heart is the grown child'ssafe-house."
    Growing pains begin when we make the journey through the birth canal and continue until make the journey into the world to come when our baptism is complete in death. In the meantime, from the cradle to the grave, we all experience growing pains. Jesus, himself a Jew, experienced growing pains. So did Paul, another Jew. So do you. So do I.
    Growing pains are not fun and they do not make us happy. But growing pains are signs that we are maturing in God's grace. Live into your growing pains this week. Feel them. Acknowledge them. Confess them to God. Pray with Paul, saying: "Who will rescue me from this body of death?" Then rejoice with Paul, saying: "Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord!" All things are possible with God. A Chinese proverb says, "There is only one pretty child in the world, and every mother has it." You are God's pretty child. The only one She has. Remember that truth and live on into your growing pains.

To Walk Upon the Earth

Jon Burnham preached this sermon from Matthew 7:21-29
at St. John's Presbyterian Church on June 1, 2008

When you think things are bad,
when you feel sour and blue, ...
Just tell yourself, Duckie,
you're really quite lucky!
Some people are much more ... unlucky than you!

Dr. Seuss suggests, "You ought to be thankful, a whole heaping lot, for the places and people you're lucky you're not!" For instance, traffic in Houston may be tough, but you are lucky you are not living in "Ga-Zayt" and getting caught in traffic on "Zayt Highway Eight." Learning Japanese may be hard when you are in the third grade, but you are lucky you are not trying to teach Irish ducks how to read Jivvanese. And so on and on, with the scenes gradually getting darker and more menacing in color, outlook, and design. The next to last picture shows a gloomy, almost frightening empty landscape, where you are told: "Thank goodness you're not something someone forgot, and left all alone in some punkerish place like a rusty tin coat hanger hanging in space." (Did I Ever Tell You How Lucky You Are?)

Ralph C. Wood writes:

"The merriment of faith does not blink at the awful reality of suffering in the world. On the contrary, faith discerns human captivity all the more acutely for knowing that the shackles have been broken and the prison door flung wide. It is unbelief that constitutes the ultimate lack of humor. Sin is the refusal to be cheered by God's unstinting largesse. It is the glum unwillingness to celebrate the divine comedy. The world is the arena of God's redemptive activity. And God himself is the comedian who wants his audience to laugh—to rejoice in and thus to be transformed by the Good News." (The Comedy of Redemption)

In that spirit, Dr. Suess's story ends happily and in bright colors with the young guy sitting on top a cactus and now "with a sunny sweet smile on his face." And his old friend brings down the curtain by telling him:

That's why I say, "Duckie!
Don't grumble! Don't stew!
Some critters are much-much . . . more unlucky than you!

As a child I sometimes felt unlucky to have been born on this earth as a human being. Instead, I wished I had been born a dog or a bug. After all, dogs don't have to worry about passing a math test and bugs don't have to worry about spending eternity suffering for their sins in the burning fires of hell. C.S. Lewis described humans as "composite creatues, rational animals, akin on one side to the angels, on the other to tom-cats." He says, "It is a bad thing not to be able to take a joke. Worse, not to take a divine joke made, I grant you, at our expense, but also (who doubts it?) for our endless benefit."


We are composite creatures and our biggest challenge in this life is to strike a balance between our animal and our angelic natures. Dr. Seuss and C.S. Lewis both want us to know how lucky we are God placed this exquisite challenge placed upon us. We are lucky because we are children of God. Parents want to have a relationship with their children, and God wants to have a relationship with God's children. That would be you and me. See how lucky we are?
  

The Bible teaches that we love because God first loved us. Our relationship with others is founded upon the rock of God's relationship with us. We relate to God as God's adopted children and we relate to one another as siblings in Christ. We are sisters and brothers. In my family of origin, I have two brothers and no sisters. When I was in my early teen years I wondered how I was supposed to relate to girls. The Holy Spirit showed me I was to relate to girls as sisters in Christ. Taking that approach answered many questions for me about how to relate to girls and the same thing was true about boys. I related to others boys as brothers in Christ. This led me to have great respect for all people.


C.S. Lewis says there are no ordinary people:

"You have never talked to a mere mortal. It is immortals whom we live with, work with, marry, snub, and exploit--immortal horrors or everlasting splendors. This does not mean that we are to be perpetually solemn. We must play. But our merriment must be of that kind (and it is, in fact, the merriest kind) which exists between people who have, from the outset, taken each other seriously--no flippancy, no superiority, no presumption. And our charity must be a real and costly love, with deep feeling for the sins in spite of which we love the sinner -- no mere tolerance, or indulgence which parodies love as flippancy parodies merriment. Next to the Blessed Sacrament itself, your neighbor, he is holy in almost the same way, for in him also Christ vere latitat--the glorifier and the gloried, God Himself—is truly hidden." (C.S. Lewis)

A skydiver jumped from a plane and pulled his rip cord. The parachute did not open. He pulled his emergency parachute rip cord. To his chagrin, there was no parachute.  As he plummeted down, he looked around desperately for some miracle. All of a sudden he spotted a man shooting skyward from the ground.  As they passed each other, the skydiver called out to the skyrocketing man: "What do you know about parachutes?" The man yelled back: "What do you know about gas stoves?"  Following directions is so much easier than learning the hard way. The Bible is our instruction book for living. There we find that doing God's will is not always glamorous but is always necessary.


"The man who removes a mountain begins by carrying away small stones," said William Faulkner, to which he may have added:

The man who jumps out of a parachute begins by making sure his parachute works before he gets on the airplane.

Or, the man who boils eggs on a gas stove begins by reading the instruction manual before he lights the flame in the gas burner. No wonder we men so seldom cook. None of us is willing to take the time to read an instruction manual before we fire up the gas stove. Don't even get me started on Green Eggs and Ham.

Jesus emphasized obedience to God in small matters. He is not impressed by people who prophesy in his name, and cast out demons in his name, and do many deeds of power in his name. Jesus does not expect us to live as super heroes who can peer into the future or kill monsters with our superhuman powers. Jesus is interested in those who do the will of his Father in heaven. Faithfulness to God in small things is what captures the imagination of Jesus. In tedious faithfulness we learn how to live as Christ lived.


"There are two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle," so says Albert Einstein. The scandalous Christian affirmation is that the ultimate miracle has, in fact, occurred. What Christian faith confesses is that God, in the Jews and Jesus, has perpetrated the most outrageous of tricks, a joke to end all jokes, a surprise beyond all surprises. Almighty God has come down and walked upon this earth in the form of a human being named Jesus Christ. Jesus showed us how to walk upon the earth.


"Everyone then who hears these words of mine and acts on them will be like a wise man who built his house on rock," said Jesus. (Matt 7:24) Our lives are built on the rock of relationship with the loving God whom we know in Jesus Christ. We do not flail in a void. The universe has a final floor. We are upheld by sheer grace. We stand on Christ the solid rock. All other ground is sinking sand.


Thich Nhat Hahn teaches, "The greatest miracle is not to walk upon the water. The greatest miracle is to walk upon the earth." In these half animal and half angelic human bodies we inhabit, we are learning how to perform the greatest miracle in all the universe. We are learning how to walk upon the earth as Jesus walked: In union with God; with full human consciousness; and with compassion for all creation. Once upon a time someone asked Jesus how to walk upon the earth. He replied: "You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your mind, and with all your strength; and you shall love your neighbor as yourself." If we carefully follow those directions we may finally learn how to walk upon the earth.

Beyond the Chrysalis

Jon Burnham preached this sermon from Matthew 6:24-34
on Memorial Day weekend, May 25, 2008, at St. John's Presbyterian Church in Houston

    Ark Linkletter once asked a boy who was ten, "What do you know about World War Two?"
    "Oh, I know a lot," he replied. "World War Two was fought all over the world and other places."
    "And do you know the countries that fought?" said Art, eager the plumb the depths of this semi-scholar.
    "Sure. America and Great Britain."
    "Right! Against whom did they fight?"
    "Each other. That's how we got our freedom."
    "Yes, I see. Sometimes they also call that the American Revolution."
    "Whatever."
    "Well, as long as we're talking about that, do you happen to know the cause of the American Revolution?"
    "Yeah. No taxation without recreation." (Bill Cosby, Kids Say the Darndest Things, 114)

    Memorial Day weekend is a time of recreation that marks the beginning of Summer. Memorial Day is also a time of reflection we remember those who died while serving to our country.

We are terrified of death. We don't like to think about death. But death is merely a transition from one form of life to another. Think of the changes a butterfly undergoes as it transforms from caterpillar to winged insect. The caterpillar cannot imagine life as a butterfly. When the caterpillar goes into the chrysalis it dies; in a sense, it ceases to exist as a caterpillar. When it reemerges, it is the same caterpillar that reemerges--and yet it is not the same. it is entirely different. It has an entirely different life, an  entirely different existence. Before it could only slide along the sides of leaves or branches, now it can fly on two beautifully colored wings. The butterfly cannot remember its life as a caterpillar, even though the caterpillar has begotten it. (Adin Stensaltz, Beyond the Chrysalis, in A Man's Journey to Simple Abundance, 405) Death is our transition from our human bodily to a resurrection body. We see this in the Gospels. The resurrected Jesus appears to his disciples many times in his resurrection body. One time he cooked them fish for breakfast on an open fire on the shore of the Sea of Galilee. Another time he walked with two disciples on the road to Emmaus. He talked with these two about what had happened in Jerusalem. The big news was that Jesus had died. The disciples did not know they were telling the risen Jesus details about his own death. Only later that evening when they broke bread around the table were their eyes opened and they recognized the risen Christ.

We see this same pattern in adolescents as they mature and come to understand their mother and father.  In his book, Codes of Love: How to Rethink Your Family and Remake Your Life, Mark Bryan remembers his father who wore the uniform. This reading moves beyond stereotypes of men and women who wear the uniform. Their families have the same struggles we all face in one way or another plus the additional strains of serving in the military. Listen for how his understanding of his father changed as he matured through the chrysalis of adolescence into adulthood, as Bryan remembers.

When I was a child, my father's dress white Navy uniform was the most impressive piece of clothing I'd ever seen. I'd watch my father in front of the bedroom mirror as he dressed, his posture straight and elegant as he carefully fastened the gold buttons on the front of the shirt. In his dress whites, sometimes with a gleaming sword strapped to his side, he was someone I honored and respected without a moment of doubt. Our life could be tough at times and the frequent moves caused a lot of stress in our family, but when I saw him in his dress whites the struggle seemed worth it.


By my late teens, that same uniform had become the symbol of every way in which I had failed my father an he had failed me. After our battles of the Vietnam War, I hadn't spoken to my fatter in years. He was a rigid man, a tool of the military establishment. I blamed him for the fact that I had no really close friends and had roamed from place to place, unable to get my life together. Our Navy life had ruined my childhood, I can hear my mother saying, by moving us around so much. I saw that uniform as a straitjacket too, part of the reason he often seemed unhappy. I remembered the time my father, who was working two jobs to keep the family going, was getting dressed for an event and discovered a button was missing on the front of his uniform. Furious, he yanked the shirt open. My brother Jon and I both remember the ping of the gold buttons hitting the walls and the floor as he roared with rage.


As an adult I can see the truth of all those images of my father in uniform. Viewing them from the eyes of a child, of course, I wanted the certainty of having just one. Either there is no truth or there are several truths, but there's never just one when you look at your history with your family. Memory is malleable. We arrange the past in a way that suits our present.

 Our family of origin is the chrysalis in which we are formed. Before it becomes a butterfly, a caterpillar goes through a growth stage during called  "chrysalis." On the surface it may not look like much is happening, but the delicate chrysalis process changes the fuzzy caterpillar into an awesome butterfly with wings of intricate designs and intense colors. "Chrysalis" symbolizes the spiritual growth that is essential between adolescence and adulthood. That growth is as crucial for youth as the cocoon is for the caterpillar. It is that precious time of nurturing a person's faith for discipleship. Chrysalis conveys the transformation our youth and young adults may experience this Summer.

Youth is but a fleeing moment in a person's life. And too many young people have died and continue to die in war. Memorial Day commemorates U.S. men and women who have died in military service to their country. It began first to honor Union soldiers who died during the American Civil War. After World War I, it was expanded to include those who died in any war or military action. Hermann Melville authored the great novel Moby Dick and also wrote poetry, including this one from April, 1862, called Shiloh:A Requiem:

Skimming lightly, wheeling still,
      The swallows fly low
Over the field in clouded days,
      The forest-field of Shiloh—
Over the field where April rain
Solaced the parched ones stretched in pain
Through the pause of night
That followed the Sunday fight
      Around the church of Shiloh—
The church so lone, the log-built one,
That echoed to many a parting groan
            And natural prayer
      Of dying foemen mingled there—
Foemen at morn, but friends at eve—
      Fame or country least their care:
(What like a bullet can undeceive!)
      But now they lie low,
While over them the swallows skim,
      And all is hushed at Shiloh.

 
The average age of the Civil War soldier was 25 years old; in Vietnam: 23 years old; in Iraq: 27 years old. Those swallow swooping down over Shiloh remind us of the birds Jesus mentions in our text today. Jesus says, "Look at the birds of the air; they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? And can any of you by worrying add a single hour to your span of life? So do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring worries of its own. Today's trouble is enough for today." We long for all of our young people and young adults to be able to live in a world without war. We long for them to live today and to live tomorrow. Yet, too often, we who have the opportunity to live today and to live tomorrow do not appreciate the fragility of life.


Edgar Guest wrote a poem titled "Tomorrow." It goes like this:

He says he's going to be all a mortal could be, tomorrow ...
None would be braver and stronger than he, tomorrow ...
A friend who was troubled and weary he knew and needed a life and wanted on, too
On him he would call to see what he could do, tomorrow ...
Each morning, he'd stack up the letters he'd write, tomorrow ...
He thought of the friends he would fill with delight, tomorrow ...
It's too bad indeed he was busy today, hadn't a moment to stop on the way, more time I'll give to others, he would say, tomorrow ...
The greatest of workers this man would have been, tomorrow ...
The world would have known him had he ever seen tomorrow ...
But, the fact is he died and faded from view
And all that he left here when living was through
Was a mountain of things he intended to do, tomorrow.

      Tonight, tell everybody in your family how much you love them. And just before you got to bed tonight, thank God for every person who have given their life in the service of their country. As Christ said: "Greater love has no man than this: That a man should lay down his life for a friend." Service. That is what is means to be in the military. That is what it means to be a Christian. Don't wait. Lock on to that new resolve to be the best you can be.

Actions Speak Louder

Jon Burnham preached this sermon from Matthew 28:16-20
on Trinity Sunday, Year A, May 11, 2008, at St. John's Presbyterian Church in Houston

    Bill Cosby asked a boy of nine named Peter: "Do you try to do the things that Jesus told you to do?"
      "He didn't tell me to do nothin'," Peter fervently replied.
    "I mean things like turning the other cheek."
        "What's that mean?"
    "If somebody hits you, you don't hit him back."
        "Jesus said be a wimp?"
    "No, not a wimp, a lover of peace."
        "It don't sound too smart. Why don't the guy who hits me love peace first?"
    "Well, that's the whole point of Jesus' message: You have to be bigger than the other person."
        For a moment, Peter fell into fervent reflection.
        "If you're bigger," he then said, "you should definitely him him back."
    Cosby concludes, "Not all Peters are saints. (Kids Say the Darndest Things, 21)

    There was a man who was not bigger than the others but he was not afraid to hit someone back. Muhammad Ali (born Cassius Clay Jr.) is a retired American boxer and former three-time World Heavyweight Champion and winner of an Olympic Light-heavyweight gold medal. In 1999, Ali was crowned "Sportsman of the Century" by Sports Illustrated and the BBC. Mohammad Ali is remembered as much for his showmanship as his boxing. He says he got his showmanship from a championship wrestler named Gorgeous George, whom he met when doing a radio program. After his encounter with Gorgeous George, Ali started shouting, "I am beautiful. I am the greatest. I can't be beat, I'm the fastest thing on two feet, and I float like a butterfly and sting like a bee. If you talk jive, you'll fall in five ..."

    He started writing poetry for the first time when he fought Archie Moore:

When you come to the fight
Don't block the aisles
And don't block the door
For you all may go home
After round four.

    He won the fight in the fourth round, as he predicted he would. And over the years, 17 out of 21 of his predictions came true. He started making predictions to sell tickets and his predictions started coming true.
    Ali had his critics. They said his poems were terrible. They said they were the ravings of a madman.
    He told those critics that his poetry would be quoted and published more than any of the poems written by poets they liked. He never paid much attention to his critics about anything negative.
    He says, "Every time I opened my mouth, I could back it up." He says, "The critics only made me work harder."

    Jesus also had his critics. Open any page of the gospels and you are likely to find Jesus being attacked by his critics, the Pharisees and Sadducees. Inspite of the criticism, Jesus persevered with his mission in life. Finally, in the last chapter of Matthew, in the final scene, Jesus is with his 11 disciples in Galilee. They are down to 11 disciples because Judas has already betrayed Jesus which set the stage for his crucifixion. On the third day, God raised him from the dead. Now, after his resurrection, Jesus and his 11 disciples are up on a mountain. The disciples see the risen Jesus and worship him. But some doubt him. Even after his resurrection Jesus had doubters among his 11 disciples! So we shouldn't be shocked if we have some critics. We shouldn't be surprised if some people doubt us. Jesus experienced critics and so shall we. The key to the kingdom is how we handle our critics. Like Jesus, we should persevere in the face of our critics. We should stand tall in the presence of our doubters. Like Mohammad Ali, our critics should make us work harder.

    The story is told that when a much-publicized Texas highwayman and train robber died, his brother went to a local pastor to persuade him to preach his brother's funeral.
    Fearing the possible bad publicity, the preacher politely declined. The brother offered the preacher $10,000 to officiate at his brother's funeral. "Why do you offer so much money for what is normally a routine church function?" asked the pastor.
    "Because you are a respected man of the cloth in West Texas and I have a special request. I want you to call my brother a saint" replied the brother. Badly in need of funds for repairs on the church where he was pastor, he reluctantly consented.
    On of the day of the service, the house was full of mourners. The pastor said, "We are here to pay our respects to 'Six-shooter' Henry Jones. Now we all know Henry was a thief, and a murderer, but, compared to his brother, Henry was a saint!"
(Bill Cannon, Treasury of Texas Humor, 44-45)

    We compare ourselves to others. We tear them down to build ourselves up. We play that game even though it leads to frustration. I wonder if there was still bickering among the 11 disciples after Jesus' resurrection. We know there had been conflicts among the 12 as the Sons of Thunder called down their mother upon Jesus to beseech him to give her boys thrones to rule over all. The mother suggested one son could sit on Jesus right hand and her other son could sit on Jesus left hand. Her suggestion did not go over well with the other disciples. Finally, Jesus called them all together and told them things were different in his world. In his world, those who were first would be last. Those who were last would be first. The ruler of all would be the servant of all. This blew their minds. We still have a hard time with the concept of the servant leader. Our culture trains us to work the angles for our own good. Our culture encourages us to to strive to get ahead of our neighbors. Our whole economic system is based on the underlying belief that humans will do whatever they can to get ahead. What if we proved them wrong? What if we proved Jesus right? On some occasions we follow Jesus' golden rule: "Do unto others as you would have them do unto you." Other times, we stumble over our pride and fall down and look foolish.

    Woody Allen once wrote an obituary for a fictional character named Mr. Needleman. Here is one paragraph.
   At the opera in Milan with my daughter and me, Needleman leaned out of his box and fell into the orchestra pit. Too proud to admit it was a mistake, he attended the opera every night for a month and repeated it each time. Soon he developed a mild brain concussion. I pointed out that he could stop falling as his point had been made. He said, "No. A few more times. It's really not so bad." (The Insanity of Defense: The Complete Prose, 213)

Poor, Needleman, his pride would not let him admit he made a mistake. In order to prove his falling  out of the orchestra pit at the Opera was not an accident, he repeats his mistake each night until he gets a mild concussion. Even then he is reluctant to admit the foolishness of his ways. We laugh at Needleman. Yet, in our own small ways, we repeat his his mistake when we are willing to sacrifice a relationship rather than lose an argument. As Paul said, "I do not do what I want to do. Our spirits are willing but our flesh is weak." This is the human dilemma.

    Jesus knows all about the human dilemma, having lived as a human being himself. Jesus' approach to making disciples was to model the kind of life he wanted his disciples to live. If the disciples ever wanted to know what to do, they would ask themselves, "What would Jesus do?" They had been with him long enough and seen him in so many different kinds of situations that they intuitively knew the answer to that question. They knew what Jesus would do.

    How we live our lives is our best advertisement for the Christian faith. Presbyterians have always known this. Instead of talking about the importance of higher education we established colleges all over this country, such as Trinity University in San Antonio. Jesus challenges us to go and baptize, make and teach disciples. We are doing that at St. John's. We baptize believers. We teach disciples. And we meet human needs. We do all of this in Jesus' name. For we know that actions speak louder. Actions speak louder than words.