Let’s be honest with one another. When it comes to this Sunday’s Community Thanksgiving Service, there are many other things that you could be doing with your time instead of attending our worship experience .
First, you could be recovering from a full weekend and steeling yourself for the holiday juggernaut that lies ahead. This is a reasonable and good use of your time.
Second, you could choose to finish the work that you didn’t finish last week before you begin a new week. Again, this is a reasonable and good use of your time.
Third, you could spend Sunday evening with your family, enjoying football, surfing social media on your device, or taking a much-needed walk around your neighborhood. This, too, would be a reasonable and good use of your time.
Fourth, you could cook. Like me, you’re probably expecting company sometime next week. Preparing for them on Sunday night will allow you to maximize your time with your guests when they arrive. This is a reasonable and good use of your time.
Or, you could sacrifice all of that and choose to be a part of our Community Thanksgiving Service at the Presbyterian Church in Sylva on Sunday night, November 20, at 6:00 PM.
Why would you bother? Because our souls need it and God desires it.
Ingratitude is one of the oldest songs in our hymnbook. Our wish lists in our prayers occupy far more time than our thanksgivings. Remembrances of how God has provided for us don’t have the urgency that our more immediate needs require.
So yea, we’re inclined to skip the service of Thanksgiving and focus on what’s next. The immediate outweighs the past, right?
Speaking of urgency, the ten lepers in Luke’s Gospel had an immediate need. They suffered with an incurable disease that was both painful and isolating. They heard that Jesus was coming through town and they raced out to encounter him on the road, saying: “Jesus, Master, have mercy on us!”
His response was curt and a bit confusing: “Go and show yourselves to the priests.”
And as they did, they were made well. Cleansed from their terrible disease, these individuals made good use of their time by celebrating with family and friends. Having been healed, they then made a reasonable decision with regards to their time.
Except for one man. “When he saw that he was healed, (he) turned back, praising God with a loud voice. He prostrated himself at Jesus’ feet and thanked him.”
Understandably, Jesus was crestfallen by the fact that only one would return to say thank you.
So, of course, Jesus is familiar with our tilt toward self-absorption. And yet, we have an opportunity to surprise Jesus by ‘wasting our time’ with thanksgiving.
Yes, there are many other things that you could be doing this Sunday evening at 6:00 PM. But I’d like to challenge you and your family to waste time with our broader family of faith in a service of Thanksgiving. We will be taking a radical action in our current age of disillusionment and division. We’ll be sharing communion with those in our community who are different from us.
Thanksgiving is not simply a holiday, and it certainly should not be relegated to one day in our calendar year. Thanksgiving is an attitude. It is a practice, a discipline, intended to turn our willful, selfish lives back to a God who has given us all that we need.
Thanksgiving is a mindset that is the anecdote to our chronic discontent. And, it’s the best waste of your time that you’ll ever engage in.
Forefathers of Faith
When they all sat down at the table together, they couldn’t have been more different.
Brought together by a sense of discontentedness with the status quo, they yearned for a better life. When the Movement found them, they felt oppressed—socially, economically, politically, and because of their faith. The promise of a new reality seemed possible, and these individuals fell in line with the hope that because of their involvement, the world would be forever changed.
And yet, their journey together had been bumpy. This hodgepodge collection of individuals, cobbled together for a common cause, came from assorted backgrounds and life experiences. They were working class, salt of the earth men. There were passionate patriots, red-faced commoners, and yes--those who were eager to spill blood. Some were traitors. Others were cheats. They were, in truth, a dirty dozen.
Their road to the table had been littered with awkward moments. There were doubts, professions of faith, miracles and setbacks. The men vied for attention, conspired to gain power, and argued with one another about who would ultimately sit closest to the center of the table.
Who were these people and what was their cause?
No, we’re not talking about the forefathers of our nation. We’re talking about the forefathers of our faith.
When Jesus’s disciples reclined at the table in the upper room on the night before His crucifixion, the dinner guests found themselves seated beside individuals they would have never otherwise associated. What brought everyone together was Jesus.
Despite their many differences, agendas, perspectives and politics, Jesus was able to bring everyone together. This was no small accomplishment. Only the presence of God Himself could pull it off. History is replete with examples of how we abhor the Other. The human condition testifies to the fact that we despise the differences that we see in one another, and that we will go to great lengths to wall ourselves off from those who are different from ourselves. We are grateful for the deep oceans that separate us from our enemies, just as we celebrate mountain ranges, national boundaries, and railroad tracks that seek to preserve our like-mindedness.
Jesus, however, confronted this all-too human inclination by calling followers who would have ordinarily been reluctant to call one another friend. And seated at the table with them that last night, this is what Jesus prayed:
“I ask not only on behalf of these, but also on behalf of those who will believe in me through their word, that they may all be one. As you, Father, are in me and I am in you, may they also be in us, so that the world may believe that you have sent me.” (John 17:21)
God desires for us to be one. But how? Communion with God and with one another is only possible through Jesus Christ. In fact, our unity in Christ becomes the way in which we testify to the world about God’s desire to save the world through His son, Jesus.
Unity is possible because of Jesus Christ. Jesus is enough. The witness of the Gospel, and the teachings of Jesus, inspires us to seek unity with others because of, and through the grace of, Jesus.
But first, we’ve got to be willing to sit at the table together.
Brothers and sisters, this is not an invitation. It is Christ’s hope, Christ’s prayer and Christ's command.
Besides, Jesus is already seated at the table. It would be a shame to let him dine alone.
Good Storytelling Requires Good Listening
It doesn’t matter how many times I read the story; I still find Jesus’s response startling.
Jesus had just cast out a legion of demons from a possessed man. The man had been driven out of town, pressed into chains, and lived wild among the tombs. The truly terrible man seemed beyond repair. That is, until Jesus courageously appeared on the scene and set the man free.
Jesus, all-powerful and mighty, sent the demons fleeing into a herd of swine and saved both the day and the man.
But the story ends differently than we think it should. In our alternative ending, the newly transformed man is welcomed as one of Jesus’s disciples and later drafts his own Gospel complete with his first-hand liberation experience with Jesus.
Yet, that does not happen.
Instead, Jesus turns down his request to follow him and tells him: “Go home to your family and tell them how much the Lord has done for you, and how he has had mercy on you.”
Jesus sends the man out to share his story. Opting for reconciliation and the power of word of mouth, Jesus directs the man to share his testimony about the way in which God had shown his mercy and changed the trajectory of his life.
Jesus is directing us to do it, too.
To be as transparent with you as I can, I will confess that the idea of going to the nations, teaching and proclaiming the Good News of Jesus to be intimidating. I have served as a missionary in a variety of contexts and my efforts have always been accompanied with a dis-ease for what I was doing. Even as a staff minister and pastor, I have wrestled with what it is precisely that Jesus wants us to do when we go out in his name. The disciples were directed to spread the Good News and to heal. But truly, what does that look like in our 21st century context?
Jesus’s surprising commissioning gives us insight into what God wants us to do. Like the formerly demon-possessed man, we are called to share our stories with others. More specifically, we are to openly tell how God has been at work in our lives. To the point, God wants us to give a review of the mercy that he has given to us just as certainly as we might give an excellent meal a four-star review online.
True, telling our stories requires courage. Sharing our testimony of God’s grace demands vulnerability and risks looking weak, foolish or human in the eyes of our hearers. It has always been thus. Yet, I am reminded of the eye-opening statement of the noted psychologist, Carl Rogers, who said: “What is most personal is most universal.”
We need one another’s stories so that we do not feel alone. We need one another’s stories so that we can know that hope is real.
The key to sharing our stories—aside from the obvious willingness of the story teller—is the context by which it is shared. Standing on a street corner, yelling your story at traffic won’t get you listeners. It will get you arrested. No, the context that we must strive to create is the setting of a personal relationship with someone in which stories can be shared. If your story is not heard, then it might as well have not been shared at all. We earn the right to tell our stories by investing in the lives of others.
This, however, is only one dimension of God’s expectation of us. In addition to sharing the stories of how God has worked in our lives, we must also strive to be good listeners. For you see, people are telling their stories to us all the time, even when they are not aware that they are. People are telling us about their lives in casual conversations in our neighborhoods, or in the checkout line, or at the end of a particularly poignant Sunday School lesson. And if we are not listening to them, they will never listen to us.
The Good News of Jesus Christ is that God decided to intersect our lives in person. Just as Jesus encountered, and listened, to the story of a Samaritan woman at the well, we too are called to find places of intersection with one another so that we can have a reason to tell our stories.
As one who has been privileged to hear many of your stories, I must report that they are often heartbreaking and heartrending. They are littered with loss and disappointment, tragedy and despair. And yet, the stories have endings that are still changing. Our stories, in Christ Jesus, are always being redeemed. Our stories of sorrow are—because of God’s mercy—becoming places of intersection to prove the hope that God is giving us. And these are the best kinds of stories—tales of transformation, moments of miracles, narratives of laughter and joy.
In truth, these Christ-inspired stories are not only Good News, they represent the best news we could possibly hear.
It would be a shame not to share them.
A Thank You Letter
Dear First Baptist Church,
I am continually astounded by your generosity.
You give so deeply and so frequently. Let me count the ways:
First Baptist Church, you give with your hands.
I have never been associated with a congregation that was so willing to work. When asked to help, you say yes. When notified of a need in our church facility, you’re there. Never once have I experienced a spirit of entitlement when it comes to the condition of our church campus. You never assume someone else should do what needs to be done. You jump in and serve with muscle and expediency. You assist in cleaning, you help set-up, you help tear down, you pick weeds, you move this, you move that, you trim our rose bushes and tidy up as you see fit. You are a generous people.
First Baptist Church, your hospitality is a spiritual gift.
I have been deeply humbled at the sweet spirit that accompanies your commitment to provide a meal for the bereaved in our church family. Regardless of whether the deceased was actively attending or not, you jump at the chance to provide a casserole, bake bread or make a dessert for their family. And if that is not enough, you decorate the tables in the Mission and Fellowship Center, you pull out the nicest place settings, you create centerpieces for the tables. This beautiful gesture gives families a sense of dignity and warmth in a time of loss. In providing this ministry, you are giving to others an elegant and priceless gift.
First Baptist Church, your service in leadership is rich.
Our deacons share their wisdom and provide care for us. Our team leaders bring their practical experience and simple but profound willingness to do the work of the church. Our Sunday School teachers consider God’s word and are committed to sharing the Good News with us time and time again. Our committee members attend to the mundane, yet critically important duties of our church. Our Circles and Missionary Unions invest in local ministries, teach our children about the Great Commission and collaborate to provide opportunities to serve and grow. Our ushers provide hospitality, our children collect our offerings, our musicians sing and play, our young people sacrifice their time to work with sweaty teenagers. In ways too numerous to count, our church gives their time and attention so that Jesus is present today and tomorrow.
First Baptist Church, you invest your resources in our mission.
The financial gifts that you give to the church become the fuel that powers our work. Your investment employs individuals in our community and helps to provide them with income for rent, food and clothes. In turn, these staff members work tirelessly behind the scenes to provide services that are as wide as the view from Waterrock Knob. Your invested contributions cool the air in the Mission and Fellowship Center, making it possible for our neighbors and partners to have a place to meet or have a banquet. The money that you give to our church makes it possible for us to be generous to local ministries and to help fund missionaries around the world. Your tithe funds our Baptist Children’s Home, the ministry at our Baptist colleges, disaster relief and so much more. Furthermore, the money you give on-line or on Sundays becomes a down-payment on the promise we made 128 years ago to be a source of good on Main Street for future generations.
First Baptist Church, your generosity is contagious.
Your gracious blessing of our 1st Explorers Program has expanded our ministry and extended our missional reach. Many of us are aware that our 1st Explorers Ministry leadership could have taken an easier path in providing care for families in our community. Some could have argued that the decision to provide specialized care for an individual with developmental needs would have been an unwise move. Caring for this bright young man required much more thoughtfulness and logistical coordination. And yet, in a beautiful testimony of the generosity that has been modeled to them by our church, these staff members continued to welcome this individual even though it would require much more time and attention than it might otherwise require. First Baptist Church, this is what your generosity inspires.
In short, your generosity makes our mission possible.
I suspect that people come to church so that they may be generous. And if so, it is incumbent upon our church’s leadership to provide opportunities for our church to be generous to one another, our community and the world around us.
Rest assured, First Baptist. Your gifts and generosity of time, skills and resources are not wasted. In fact, it’s how God is changing our world.
Signed,
A Grateful Pastor
Toxic
If you are blessed to live long enough, you’re bound to see it all.
In an unprecedented moment in our nation's history, the crescendo of this election cycle has felt more like the Egyptians’ weathering of the plagues than it has the triumph of our democracy.
Personally, I feel like I have been poisoned. But when it comes to my own personal politics, that’s as forthcoming as I’m going to be.
Here’s why.
Baptists have historically championed the principle of religious freedom and the separation of church and state. By distinguishing where the institution of the church ends and the institution of the state begins, it preserves the integrity of both organizations. As history has proven time and time again, when the church becomes the state, it loses its ability and privilege to speak prophetically. If the state is the church, it becomes near-to-impossible for the church to speak truth to power.*
In regard to politics, the times in which we live have become especially fraught with danger. While there was once a time where we could engage in civil dialogue about our political similarities and differences, that day is not today. The arena of civil discourse has become so toxic that we can seemingly find nothing in common and regard one another as the bitterest of enemies.
Just as the Church of Jesus Christ is a place for all people--regardless of nationality, race, ethnicity or background--the Body of Christ is the place where our unity in Jesus becomes our common ground. And when differences do exist (and how could they not?), it is imperative that we treat one another with respect, kindness and love.
Indeed, as Pastor Blake McKinney of First Baptist Church of Lee’s Summit in Missouri points out in his article, “A Dangerous Path for Politically Active Christians,” our demonstrative political discourse can damage our Christian witness. Regardless of our political affiliations, we can, in fact, be doing harm in the name of Jesus.
McKinney admonishes us: “Are you free to speak your mind about political matters? Absolutely. Should you speak up when political decisions have ethical and spiritual ramifications? Absolutely. But be careful about how you discuss politics, and how often. Realize that your political talk can have unintended consequences on the spiritual lives of the people who hear you. The more obnoxious you are in talking about politics, the more people will tune you out in matters of faith.”*
Perhaps I’ve said too much. Maybe I haven’t said enough. Probably, both statements are accurate.
You’ve probably heard the anecdote about the individual who just suffered through a long, wandering sermon. “I know the preacher means well, but today he should have just read the scripture and sat back down.”
So, I’ll do just that.
The Word of the Lord from Paul’s Letter to the Church in Rome:
"Let love be genuine; hate what is evil, hold fast to what is good; love one another with mutual affection; outdo one another in showing honor. Do not lag in zeal, be ardent in spirit, serve the Lord. Rejoice in hope, be patient in suffering, persevere in prayer. Contribute to the needs of the saints; extend hospitality to strangers.
Bless those who persecute you; bless and do not curse them. Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep. Live in harmony with one another; do not be haughty, but associate with the lowly; do not claim to be wiser than you are. Do not repay anyone evil for evil, but take thought for what is noble in the sight of all. If it is possible, so far as it depends on you, live peaceably with all. Beloved, never avenge yourselves, but leave room for the wrath of God; for it is written, “Vengeance is mine, I will repay, says the Lord.” No, “if your enemies are hungry, feed them; if they are thirsty, give them something to drink; for by doing this you will heap burning coals on their heads.” Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good."
God’s words serve as the anecdote for our “warring madness.” Thanks be to God for giving us the way out of this mess.
*For those interested in the historical foundation for the Baptist principle of religious liberty, consider this resource from the Baptist Joint Committee for Religious Liberty: http://bjconline.org/religiousliberty/
**Blake McKinney’s article, “A Dangerous Path for Politically Active Christians,” is a good read. I commend it to your attention: http://www.ethicsdaily.com/a-dangerous-path-for-politically-active-christians-cms-23666
How We Pass the Time
Last Sunday afternoon, a part of my soul retreated into shadow like a sugar maple’s leaf drifts to the ground in autumn. The regular season of baseball came to a close and my team’s season is over.
And like any good thing that comes to a close, I find myself pondering why I feel forlorn.
As many of you know, my love for the game of baseball is well documented. For years dating back to my youth, my evenings from April through October are filled with the familiar sights and sounds of baseball. The consistency of the broadcasters’ voices is calming. The beauty of baseball’s architecture and geometry feels transcendent. The story lines of team standings, pennant races and hitting streaks are narratives that tie me to a kind of alternative reality that sets my mind at ease. Baseball and its 162 game regular season is how I pass the time.
Yes, I am aware that our nation’s infatuation with football has not ebbed over the years. The seemingly ‘made for TV’ sport—with our screens strikingly similar to the dimensions of a football field—has a rabid fan base. I, too, enjoy football but my heart and my time belong to our nation’s pastime.
Despite being overtaken by the draw of football, baseball remains our nation’s pastime because the arc of baseball’s life cycle encompasses such a significant portion of time. According to Merriam-Webster’s dictionary, a pastime is, “Something that amuses and serves to make time pass agreeably.”
Why this diatribe on baseball, you may wonder? Aside from the fact that I wax poetic about baseball at least once a year in my ‘Five-Day Forecast,’ why this dribble on pastimes?
Quite simply, it is this.
Sunday is our church’s homecoming. It is the day that we will celebrate our church’s impact and legacy over its 128-year history. This Sunday, we will pause to consider who we have been together and what we have accomplished as we have sought to be God’s People at 669 West Main Street. We’ll take note of the fact that our church serves as a library of memories, stories and life-changing events.
Our children have grown up in our church. Our grandchildren have walked our halls and played on our playground. We have been married at First Baptist. We have sat on the front row in our sanctuary, the communion table replaced with a coffin. We have had baby dedications, recognized graduates and have been stirred to action by the stories of missionaries. We have dined together, planned together, argued together, wept together, laughed together and prayed together. We have celebrated holidays together over the years. We have dripped melted candle wax on our pews during Christmas Eve Services, and have tripped on our steps. We have hosted baby showers, picked weeds and served hot cocoa on our church steps. We moved across the street, occupied a new worship space and built a Mission and Fellowship Center together. And throughout our history, the sound of bell chimes have filled our valley and reminded us of our faith family on Main Street.
First Baptist, church is how we have chosen to pass the time together. Church is our pastime. It is the one consistent, unifying experience by which we distill and measure our lives. Church is how we choose to be with ourselves, with one another and with God. Church is uniquely positioned to interpret both the world and our lives for us.
And this Sunday, we’ll pay tribute to this most-significant pastime. I hope you’ll join us as we look back, look around and look forward.
For truly, our future together is as full of promise as Opening Day.
Beyond the Castle's Keep
It’s known as the Smithsonian Castle and it certainly stands out on the Mall in Washington, D.C. Living up to its namesake, the building rises like a fortress on the edge of our nation’s most-celebrated lawn. Constructed out of red sandstone, the building is hard to miss.
Or at least it was hard for me to miss this past week. Rebecca and I were in D.C. for a brief trip to celebrate the retirement of Brent Walker, the executive director of the Baptist Joint Committee for Religious Liberty. Rebecca has been serving these last years as the co-chair for their Religious Liberty Council. “The BJC’s mission is to defend and extend God-given religious liberty for all, furthering the Baptist heritage that champions the principle that religion must be freely exercised, neither advanced nor inhibited by government.”
While Rebecca met with their Board on Monday, I did my morning run on the Mall.
Of all the many museums in the Smithsonian system, the Institute’s Castle was one that had previously escaped my attention. Well, until this trip. It is a breathtakingly beautiful facility that is overshadowed by the museums it has spawned.
Today, the facility serves as the official welcome center of the Smithsonian Institute. However, when the Castle was completed in 1855 it housed the nation’s treasures. For over 30 years the Castle was the sole repository for our country’s museum collections and exhibits.
And then, the museum outgrew its home. Over the following years and decades, new museums would spring up on the Mall to house the priceless collections of our history, art, and heritage. Just this past weekend, the newest addition opened to wide-acclaim—the National Museum of African American History and Culture.
I adore the Smithsonian Institute. It tells our nation’s story. The family of museums details the wounds, triumphs, mistakes and redemptions that make up our collective history. The Smithsonian Institute deftly reveals the beauty we are capable of, and the resilient nature of our identity.
From manmade devices that soared into the heavens to the revolutionary ideas that are the cornerstones of our freedoms, a visit to the Smithsonian Institute both humbles and inspires. It’s hard to hide one’s pride for what we’ve accomplished in the past and what we can be in the future when you visit our nation’s capital.
As our plane took off from Reagan National Airport and banked toward Northern Virginia on Tuesday, we were afforded a sweeping view of the District of Columbia. And I couldn’t help but be proud of the courage it took to build newer and bigger museums to line the Mall. The Smithsonian Castle was the starting place, but it could not hold our history or our most priceless possessions. Instead of keeping our identity and our promise stunted in a building much too small for our future hope, the Smithsonian was given permission to leave its original footprint and spread out across the street and beyond the grassy fields.
This is my hope for the Church.
Of course, the story of the Smithsonian’s growth, mission and influence mirrors the growth of the Church over the past 21 centuries. Instead of trying to fit into one particular space, context or culture, the Church expanded across the globe. We are followers of Jesus because others before us were not content with the expression and scope of the call that they once knew. They realized that the Church was bigger than any one building. And its members allowed it to burst out of its first home to influence and impact the arc of human history.
We, too, are called to go beyond who we are and what we’ve become. Our identity is more than our physical location. To where and to whom are we being called?
Today, the Smithsonian Castle is a jumping-off place for further learning and engagement. It contains maps and models that can help us to locate where the larger work and storytelling can be found. The castle has administrative offices and provides hospitality to weary but curious travelers. It showcases the past but has open doors with friendly docents to help point the way to the next step.
I don’t know about y’all, but it sounds like a fitting image of Church to me.
Sanctuary
This may surprise you. The space that is used the least in our church is our sanctuary.
If you look at our building usage throughout the week, our sanctuary is almost exclusively used only on Sunday mornings. Yes, an occasional funeral or (increasingly rare) Saturday wedding takes advantage of our sanctuary. And yes, our children and youth will be rehearsing their Christmas production in the sanctuary this fall. But other than that, our sanctuary is used only 3 hours per week.
Our worshiping space has a sacramental quality to it. That is, we give our sanctuary space the power of Divine significance. We believe, not incorrectly, that God has encountered us in our sanctuary space and that because of that, the space is different. It is sacred. It is set-apart. It is Holy.
We have heard God’s Word in our sanctuary. We have sung God’s praises there. We have rejoiced in wedding ceremonies, and wept sorrowfully during funerals in our sanctuary. We have been convicted by preachers in our pulpit, and we have embraced one another in reconciliation and reunion in our worshiping space.
In many ways, our sanctuary is both familiar and foreign. It belongs to us, but we acknowledge that it is the House of God. Everyone is welcome in our sanctuary, but we discourage our youth from playing spooky games in there during Lock-Ins.
In building a sanctuary, our church decided to emulate our ancestors going back to the time of Moses and the Tent of Meeting in the desert. Interestingly, the first reference to a sanctuary in the Bible is from Exodus 15:17 where Moses references it as the place of God’s presence. The sanctuary is the place of liberation, truly a Promised Land, protected and guarded by God.
In time, the sanctuary would become the Temple of God in Jerusalem. And although it was widely believed that God’s presence could not be localized or confined to any one space, the people’s need for an actual residence for God was too hard to ignore.
If the Gospels teach us anything, it is that because of God’s love, God’s presence has been turned loose among us. Readers of Mark’s Gospel will denote that this is a chilling consideration. God cannot be contained. God is with us. God does not rest in a stuffy old room. God bursts through walls, shatters barriers and emerges triumphant from a grave!
This raises a question for most of us: With Jesus as our Savior and King, do we really need a sanctuary? Isn’t God with us wherever we go?
We know that the early church met in people’s homes—again, echoing the radically intimate nature of Christ’s presence in the world. We know that where two or more are gathered, Christ is there. We claim that we are the Body of Christ. God has not only chosen to make his home among mortals; God has made his home within us! And lest we forget, let’s remember that the word ‘church’ is translated from the Greek word, ‘ekklesia,’ which means 'gathering' or 'assembly;' not ‘steepled building’ or ‘ornate meeting space.’
None of this makes our sanctuary any less important. Indeed, our sanctuary serves a vital purpose in the life of our church. It is where we meet together to meet with God. In a world of constant distractions, our sanctuary becomes the place where we give our full attention to God. Yes, God is always with us. And yes, we can ‘be church’ wherever we might choose to do so. So, it is with a spirit of self-determination that we acknowledge that it is our sanctuary where we have chosen to ‘be church’ for these many years. And for that reason alone, our sanctuary has a history that is worthy of our respect and attention.
The Day No One Showed Up for Church
We would call it, “The Day No One Showed Up for Church.”
No, it would not be a weather-related cancellation.
No, it would not be because the pastor began a new 24-point preaching format.
And no, it wouldn’t be because of some flu outbreak, or some other incapacitating plague.
Although I could be wrong, the reason no one would come to Sunday morning worship would be the announcement that we would be taking the instruction from James 5:16 seriously.
For those who don’t have it memorized (what?), James 5:16 admonishes us to: “Confess your sins to one another.” Yes, I suspect that, ‘Confess-Your-Sins-Aloud’ Sunday would be poorly attended.
Clearly, James was not interested in having a high attendance Sunday. Why in the world would you encourage the faithful to confess their sins to one another?
Dietrich Bonhoeffer seems to have a pretty good rationale for confessing our sins to one another. In his aptly titled book, Life Together, Bonhoeffer argues that when we confess our sins—yes, our particular sins and not just a generic grouping of disobedience to God’s commands—to one another, we are gifted with what he calls, “A breakthrough to new life.”
Quoting Proverbs, the German theologian believes that the confession of sins is key to the renunciation of sins. In short, confession to another believer creates a humbling—if not humiliating experience—that leads to our working hard to give up that vice.
He’s got a point. Proverbs 28:13 reads: “No one who conceals transgressions will prosper, but one who confesses and forsakes them will obtain mercy.”
Ah, but I’m prone to concealing my transgressions. And I suspect that I’m not alone. Bonhoeffer clears his throat on the matter by stating, “Sin wants to be alone with people…Sin wants to remain unknown. It shuns the light. In the darkness of what is left unsaid sin poisons the whole being of a person.”
We are all sinners, true. But we’d rather not talk about it. In fact, if an actual sinner showed up in worship on a Sundaymorning, I daresay that I’m not sure we’d know what to do about it.
We Baptists belong to a rich tradition, and our allegiance to the truth of Holy Scripture is well-documented. But the prospect of confessing our sins (like those other traditions do) to someone else in such a bold, detailed and vulnerable fashion makes us recoil. Bonhoeffer and James—I can imagine—would say that our repulsion and fear of coming clean with God and others is the result of sin further poisoning our hearts.
It’s a tough word, I know. Trust me, I am equally as convicted by this.
Yet, I think James and Bonhoeffer have got me cornered on this. The German theologian who single-handedly took on the Nazis says: “The root of all sin is pride, superbia. I want to be for myself; I have a right to be myself, a right to my hatred and my desires, my life and my death.” This is freedom run amok. This is the textbook definition of Adam and Eve’s desire to be like God in the garden of good and evil.
All is not lost, however. Bonhoeffer says: “Sin that has been spoken and confessed has lost all of its power.”
Could it be that the practice of confessing our sins to one another might be good for both the individual and the community? Jesus clearly grants his followers the authority to forgive sins in his name (John 20:23). Maybe, just maybe, full transparency with God and our neighbor might just lead to our renunciation of our particular sins.
Perhaps the most demoralizing realization in all this is not that we do not practice confession, but that we don’t have someone in our lives that we can trust with our confession. In all fairness to the institution of church, we may be providing opportunities as a church to walk humbly with God. But we’ve collectively chosen to walk with Him alone because we think it’s easier than traveling as a tribe.
The book, Life Together, is about Bonhoeffer’s attempt to shape the Body of Christ into a more, ‘New Testament’ expression of the Church. It is a convicting and difficult read because it suggests that the church should be a community that is real, vulnerable and honest with one another.
I am not afraid to confess that this is a frightening prospect. But it may just be the key we’ve been looking for that will open the gates of the Kingdom of God.
In our context, this is a very hard sell. By inviting people into such intimacy, we may ironically be creating an empty sanctuary.
"Jesus Is So Lucky to Have Us"
We chuckle at the cartoon because it seems preposterous. In light of the many church councils, schisms, schools of thought, reformations and denominational fracturing over the last 2,000 years, the suggestion that we have the monopoly on God’s truth is laughable.
“Jesus is so lucky to have us.”
When I look back on my seminary career, I sometimes find myself scratching my head. The three-year experience of earning a Master of Divinity required a broad range of study. Included in the course of study were language requirements, systematic theology, Biblical studies, pastoral care classes and a wee bit about congregational life (Somehow, I must have missed the classes on budget and finance, non-profit human resources and how to develop an internal network for our church’s technology needs).
But there was one other area of study that the seminary mandated that we take. It was church history.
“Church history? Really?,” many of us said aloud.
With so many challenges facing the church of the 21st century, the seminary wanted us to focus on the history of the church from Christ to the present? How would the study of 21 centuries of crusty old decrees and doctrinal disagreements prepare us to pastor and lead churches today?
It turns out, there’s a lot to learn. Most of the challenges and issues that we face today (yes, today), have been studied, prayed over and debated on long before we appeared on the scene. Like any study of history, we can learn from the successes and failures of those who have gone before us so that their plight was not wasted.
In truth, I enjoyed my study of church history. I found it fascinating to see how God worked through the lives, ideas and hopes of people from so many different eras and cultures. We are not the first to wrestle with the challenges of cultural relevance and indifference. We are not the first to wonder how the church and the state should properly interact. We are not the first to consider how empire-building affects the global Christian witness.
And we will not be the last.
This realization that our (relatively young) Christian tradition doesn’t have it all figured out motivates me to respect other Christian traditions and to find ways to learn from history and from one another. The word ecumenism is defined as “the principle or aim of promoting unity among the world’s Christian churches.”
As a study in Western Civilization will tell us, the story of the Christian Church is one of fracture. We are a splintered family, broken and mended time and time again. For me, our long story does two things: It gives me hope, and it makes me humble. The fact that God would choose to work in so many different ways among so many different people to reveal the truth in Jesus Christ is nothing short of miraculous. Personally, I am not threatened by this suggestion. Indeed, I am inspired by it.
You’ve heard this one before, but it’s worth retelling:
A woman died and found herself at the Gates of Heaven with St. Peter. He intended to show her a tour.
“There,” he pointed, “is where the Roman Catholics are located,” noting the people genuflecting and making the sign of the cross together.
“And over there,” he motioned, “are the Pentecostals,” clearly identified by their hands in the air and their ecstatic expressions.
But then he got very quiet and put a finger to his lips as they approached another group of people.
“Shhh,” St. Peter told her. “Those are the Baptists. They think they’re the only ones here.”
We have so much to learn from one another. When we make space to listen, we will find ourselves humbled at God’s work in different places and in a different ways.
But perhaps most importantly, we’ll learn that we’re not alone.