The Mayberry Preacher

THE YEAR OF LIVING BIBLICALLY: DO WHAT TO MY LAND??

Leviticus 25: 1-17; Luke 4: 14-21
Steve Lindsley
August 26, 2012

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Six years you shall sow your field and prune your vineyard, and gather in their yield,
But in the seventh year there shall be a Sabbath of complete rest of the land,
And you shall not sow your field or prune your vineyard.
For a year.

Tell me something: what do you imagine this looked like?  To let the land go for an entire year without so much as a hint of a back hoe or a lawnmower or a weed eater.  What’d that look like?  I mean, the Bible is chopped full of all kinds of amazing stories and evocative images: the parting of the Red Sea, the walls of Jericho, the baptisms at the Jordan River.  It’s one thing to read about them in black and white, but it’s another to try to engage them with all five senses.  What did Leviticus 25:3-4 look, feel, taste, touch, smell like?

Maybe it was like my lawn earlier this week; the lawn I hadn’t mowed in quite a while; the lawn that’s experienced freakish growth in our relatively wet summer, absent the typical brown patches that usually fester in late August.  Uneven, unruly, a mess.  It would not win any awards from the homeowner’s association, I can assure you!

Or maybe Leviticus 25:3-4 is like the “garden” in our backyard.  And I use that term very loosely.  It’s more than a mess – it’s an absolute disaster.  Where green peppers and tomatoes and beans and lettuce should be, are instead a vast cornucopia of weeds and grass than I couldn’t have grown if I tried.  We haven’t touched this thing since June; and I’d like to say it’s because the Lindsleys are faithfully observing Leviticus, but the truth is that we gave up on it a long time ago.  Not out of scriptural celebration but cynical frustration. 

Such an odd commandment, this “land-sabbath” thing.  But we’ve got to pay attention to it, don’t we?  Just like A.J. Jacobs did.  Because it’s in here – it’s in the Bible, and the Bible is the book we say we believe in as Christians and as people of faith.  So let’s see what A.J. has to say about it – and as we’ll see, it’s about a whole lot more than the land itself:

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Here’s how it works: The Bible says that years—like days of the week—belong in a cycle of seven. The seventh year is called the Sabbath year, and big things happen.

First, that entire year, you must stop working. No farming is allowed. This is so the land can rest, and the needy can come and eat all they want from the vines and olive trees. Second, you must forgive your neighbor’s debts. All IOUs are erased.

After seven consecutive Sabbath cycles – forty-nine years – something even more radical happens: the Jubilee year. During the Jubilee year, you must return all property to its original owner (Leviticus 25:10).

(Year of Living Biblically, pg. 63)

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Now imagine that!  We’re not just talking about unmowed lawns or garden disasters, are we? The needy grazing in our yards? Forgiving all debts?  Returning property?  What kind of madness is this??
I mean, last week we acknowledged that in our quest to “live biblically,” we do a fair amount of cherry-picking commandments.  And oftentimes the ones we choose are ones that already fit: the “Do not kill” and “Do not steal” type of things line up pretty well with the way our society is supposed to function.

But sometimes we ignore commandments like this because, frankly, the consequences of following them are ridiculous.  As A.J. recognizes, erasing all debts and returning property would throw the world’s financial markets into chaos.  And letting the poor graze on our land and eat from the crops we once planted, taking advantage of our work and our labor while doing none of their own – well, there’s a term for that in our highly-charged political rhetoric, and it’s not a flattering one.

So it’s hard to personalize a commandment like this, don’t you think?  A.J. thought so:

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Even on a personal level, I’ve found (jubilee) a challenge to practice. Consider the not-working part.  I've worked for sixteen years straight, so I'm long overdue for a yearlong hiatus.  The problem is, I've got a deadline for this book and a kid who is obsessed with offensively pricey Thomas the Tank Engine toys.

As for forgiving debts, I try two things:

1) Since bonds are debts, I try to forgive a bond I have owned for nine years. It was issued by the New York State Dormitory Authority.  “We’ve never had a request like this before,” says the fourth guy I was sent to. He finally suggests that I donate some money to my favorite State University of New York school.

2) To my recollection, the only other outstanding debt that stretches more than seven years is the one owed by my sophomore-year college roommate. He owed me at least twenty dollars. The weasel would buy yogurt with the communal house money, then hide it from the rest of us in paper bags labeled “Photo Equipment— Do Not Touch.” I’ve always held a grudge. I let it go.

(Year of Living Biblically, pg. 64)

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I’m sure if A.J.'s college roommate ever read his book, he’d do a little “jubilee dance” in the streets!  Twenty bucks, whoo-hoo!  But really, A.J. hits the nail on the head: it’s hard to internalize commandments like this when they operate on such a grandiose scale. 

Which is why you and I have to dig a little deeper into the fabric of this commandment; beyond what it tells us to do to who it is calling us to be.  And see, when we dig deeper into Jubilee, when we journey to its heart and see that single strand that runs through it all, we come upon this timeless truth: all that we have, all that we have worked to acquire in our lives, really does not belong to us.  It’s not ours.  It all belongs to God.  All of it.  All of it.  And that is a tremendously powerful and extremely unsettling truth. 

I think about this truth every time the offering plates are passed up and down the pews on Sunday morning.  I think about the fact that we put our dollar bills or our check in there, thinking we have done some exceedingly gracious act by giving to God’s kingdom-building something that belongs to us.  When, in fact, the powerful and unsettling truth is that we are only returning to God a portion of what God has already given us.

And it’s not just our “stuff” that belongs to God.  You know, it’s easy to feel good about ourselves when we work hard in the fields – or in the office, or in the classroom – and are sustained in doing so.  But to stop doing that for a whole year and still be sustained – we eventually realize that we belong to God as well.  Despite what some in our culture try so desperately to convince us of, despite what we try to tell ourselves, we are not unto ourselves.  We belong to the God who sustains us even in our rest; even when the fields go untamed for a year.

So if this is the heart of jubilee – a complete redefining of who we are and whose we are – then what other crazy things might this commandment be commanding us to do? 

Back a few decades ago, two British evangelists named Martin Dent and Bill Peters put this commandment into practice as it related to the weighty (and sometimes contentious) issue of third-world debt.  Billing themselves as “Jubilee Network,” they lobbied some of the larger nations of the world – including England, France and the United States – to forgive debts on monies loaned to third-world countries. 

The movement got quite a boost when Bono, lead singer for a little rock band named U2, joined the cause.  And not just as a celebrity face, but as a full-fledged Jubilee activist. In 2006, Bono spoke about his work with Jubilee at the National Prayer Breakfast in Washington DC:

It is such an important idea, Jubilee, that Jesus begins his ministry with it. Jesus is a young man, he’s met with the rabbis, he’s a clever guy; but he hasn’t done much yet.  When he does, his first words are from Isaiah: “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because He has anointed me to preach good news to the poor, release to the captives, setting the oppressed free – to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor, the year of Jubilee.”  And he closed the scroll and said, “Today, this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.

And listen to what Bono says next:

What Jesus was really talking about in this year of the Lord’s favor, this year of Jubilee, was an era of grace.  And we’re still in it.

Grace.  Now that’s something we can sink our teeth into, isn’t it?  More than fields and crops, vineyards and grapes, lawns and lawnmowers.  Grace.  Begun in the year of Jubilee, completed in Jesus himself.  Resting and letting go and starting over.  Grace.

How hard it is for us to give to someone something they didn’t earn; something they may not deserve.  How hard it is to not only turn our lives over to God in a holy period of rest, but to share our lives with others, even though they have no claim over our lives, even though we don’t have claim over our own lives.

How hard that grace is.  But my friends, this Jubilee grace is not just about us giving it.  It’s not just about us extending jubilee to others.  Because that side of grace is the easy kind of grace.  That’s the kind we’re good at!  That’s the kind we get recognized and acknowledged for. 

No, the harder grace for you and for me is receiving it.

And here’s why: you and I operate in a world where people work and not rest, where people grab hold and not let go, where people continue down the dead-end road instead of turning and starting over.  We live in a world that is so caught up in rugged individualism and personal pride that we make it near impossible for grace to be a two-way street.  We love God and we love others.  The part we struggle with is letting God and others love us.

There’s this wonderful little story about an African tribe and what they do when a member of that community breaks tribal customs and rules.  That person is brought to the center of the village.  All work ceases and every man, woman and child gathers in a large mass around the accused, encircling them completely so they have no way of escape.  They are trapped.

And you know what the tribe does to them?  They bombard the rejected person with affirmations!  One at a time, friends and family expound on all the good that person has done.  Every incident, every experience is recounted with detail and accuracy.  All their positive attributes, their strengths and kindnesses.  Finally, the circle is broken, and a joyous celebration ensues, and the outcast is welcomed back.  And the village is made whole again. 

Now that, folks, is some jubilee grace!  For everyone.  So listen: if you want to let your lawn or garden go rogue for a year, and risk the wrath of the homeowners association, have at it!  But how about doing something really biblical?  Forgive debts.  Share your bounty with others who, like you, don’t own it.  Share grace.  And most importantly, receive it.  In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, AMEN.

THE YEAR OF LIVING BIBLICALLY: A LAMP TO MY FEET AND A PAIN IN THE NECK!

Psalm 119: 97-112; 1 John 5: 1-5
Steve Lindsley
August 19, 2012

 

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Imagine for a moment that you are not in a sanctuary this morning, but a courtroom.  And you’re not sitting in a pew or comfy Koinonia Room chair, but a jury box.  The case before you is one that has been tried numerous times, but always ends up with a hung jury: whether God’s laws and commandments, found in the Bible, are a joy or a burden.  The first witness takes the stand.  He’s wearing an Armani suit, and the kerchief in his coat pocket matches his tie – bright colors.  He’s got a perpetual smile plastered on his face that, oddly enough, looks genuine.  He holds in his hand a shiny leather Bible; holds it lovingly and respectfully like it’s grandma’s keylime pie for the church social.  Now that he has your attention, he begins with a soft-spoken voice:

Oh, how I love God’s law!
It is my meditation all day long.
How sweet are God’s words to my taste,
Sweeter than honey to my mouth!
God’s word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path.

It’s a very convincing argument.  Obviously, the Bible is near and dear to his heart.  For him, living biblically is a pure joy; something that comes as naturally to him as breathing.  You almost find yourself feeling a bit envious.   

 

Now it’s the second witness’ turn.  His appearance alone is enough to grab your attention.  He’s wearing a white robe that runs the length of his figure, exposing only the sandals on his feet.  Poor guy hasn’t shaved in God-knows-when, as both his beard and hair are scraggly and unkempt.  He holds in his hands another book, which he opens to the first few pages and begins reading:

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It’s the first day (of living biblically), and already I feel like the water is three feet over my head.
 

From the moment I wake up, the Bible consumes my life. I can’t do anything without fearing I’m breaking a biblical law. Before I so much as inhale or exhale, I have to run through a long mental checklist of rules.

It begins when I open my closet to get dressed. The Bible forbids men to wear women’s clothing (Deuteronomy 22:5), so that comfortable Dickinson College sweatshirt is off-limits. It was originally my wife’s.

The Bible says to avoid wearing clothes made of mixed fibers (Leviticus 19:19), so I have to mothball my poly-cotton Esquire magazine T-shirt.

And loafers? Am I allowed to wear leather? I go to the living room, click on my PowerBook and open my Biblical Rules file. I scroll down to the ones about animals. Pigskin and snakeskin are questionable, but it looks like regular old cow leather is permissible.

But wait—am I even allowed to use the computer? The Bible, as you might have guessed, doesn’t address the issue specifically, so I give it a tentative yes. Maybe sometime down the road, I could try stone tablets.

And then I stumble. Within a half hour of waking, I check the Amazon.com sales ranking of my last book. How many sins does that comprise? Pride? Envy? Greed? I can’t even count.

I don’t do much better on my errand to Mail Boxes Etc. I want to xerox a half dozen copies of the Ten Commandments so I can Scotch tape them up all over the apartment, figuring it’d be a good memory aid.

The Bible says, those with good sense are “slow to anger” (Proverbs 19:11). So when I get there at the same time as this wiry fortyish woman, and she practically sprints to the counter to beat me in line, I try not to be annoyed.  And when she tells the employee to copy something on the one and only functioning Xerox machine, I try to shrug it off. And when she pulls out a stack of pages that looks like the collected works of J. K. Rowling and plunks it on the counter, I say to myself: “Slow to anger, slow to anger.”

I remind myself: Remember what happened when the Israelites were waiting for Moses while he was up on the mountaintop for forty days? They got impatient, lost faith, and were struck with a plague.

I finally make it to the counter and give the cashier a dollar. She scoops my thirty-eight cents of change from the register and holds it out for me to take.

I ask her, “Could you, uh, put the change on the counter?”

She glares at me. I’m not supposed to touch women – more on that later – so I am simply trying to avoid unnecessary finger-to-finger contact.

“I have a cold,” I say. “I don’t want to give it to you.”

A complete lie. In trying to avoid one sin, I commit another.

When I get back to my apartment, I decide to cross Numbers 15:38 off my list: Attach tassels to the corners of my garment.  I had purchased some tassels from a website called “Tassels without Hassles.” They look like the kind of tassels on the corners of my grandmother’s needlepoint pillows. I spend ten minutes safety pinning them to my shirtsleeves and hem.

By the evening, I’m bushed. I barely have the energy to listen to (my wife) Julie talk about the U.S. Open—and even that conversation is fraught. I have to be sure to avoid mentioning Venus Williams, since she’s named for the Roman goddess of love, and it would violate Exodus 23:13 (make no mention of other gods).

As I go to bed, I wonder whether or not I took a step toward enlightenment today. Probably not. I was so busy obsessing over the rules – a lot of which still seem thoroughly insane – that I didn’t have time to think. Maybe I’m like a student driver who spends every moment checking the blinkers and speedometer, too nervous to contemplate the scenery. But it’s only the first day.

(from The Year of Living Biblically by A.J. Jacobs. 2007, Simon & Schuster. pgs. 15-17)

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So tell me, jury: how do you rectify these two very different witness accounts?  Are you inclined to side with the Psalmist, who says God’s law is as sweet as honey to his mouth?  Or do you sympathize with A.J. Jacobs and the struggles he encounters on his very first day of trying to “live biblically?”

You know, it’s funny – I think we instinctively want to lean toward the Psalmist guy, because who doesn’t want to say that God’s commandments are a joy?  That’s what good Christians are supposed to believe, right?  But if we’re honest with ourselves, that’s not always our experience.  Last week at this Bob Chilton Bible study, when we read this Psalm together, I expected folks to nod their heads in concurrence, wax poetic about how they, too, love God’s law and it’s sweet as honey and wonderful. 

And this is why I love this little group that meets at Pages every other Thursday morning.  I didn’t get the pad response.  One person in particular said point-blank that she wasn’t buying it; that this guy was making biblical living out to be a breeze and worry-free, and that wasn’t her experience.  And others, including your pastor, agreed with her – it is hard. 

I love it that we can be real in our faith and acknowledge that our relationship with the Bible is a very complicated one.  On the one hand we say we believe in it, when in fact we really only know a small portion of what’s in there.  On one hand, we say we make every effort to follow God’s commandments – when, in fact, what we really do is a fair bit of cherry-picking: gravitating toward the laws and rules that tend to align with the life we already live, while putting on the back-burner or flat-out ignoring many others.

This schizophrenic way of reading the Bible can produce some pretty contradictory and humorous results.  For instance: the picture floating out there on the internet of a man with Leviticus 20:13 – the verse many interpret as against homosexuality – Leviticus 20:13 tattooed on his shoulder; even though Leviticus 19:28 clearly forbids tattoos.  Think about that!  Or a preacher’s sermon that spouts racial rhetoric in the name of Jesus, even though Leviticus 19:33 clearly commands the faith community to “welcome the alien into their midst.”

So if A.J. deserves anything from us in his quest to live biblically, it is our respect for doing what, frankly, we’re not always willing to do ourselves.  To acknowledge our tendencies to cherry-pick and gravitate toward more familiar and socially-acceptable laws.  Because despite all his stumbling and bumbling, his over-analytical tendencies and self-confessed OCD behavior, despite all that, A.J. demonstrates for us quite clearly that trying to follow God’s law is not the thing that gets us closer to God.  Yes, you heard your preacher say that!  Trying to follow God's law is not what gets us closer to God.  At the same time, we can’t simply disregard the law, claiming that Jesus’ arrival renders it meaningless; since he said himself he came not to abolish the law but to complete it.

So what is the purpose of all these laws and commandments?  What is their meaning for us today? That’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it, women and men of the jury?  Last week I suggested that the purpose of these 613 commandments – the ones we choose to follow and the ones we don’t – their purpose is not to get us closer to God, but to take us out of ourselves and our self-centered way of living and working in the world.  To put it more directly: to make things a little awkward for us, and to give us pause.
That’s not an easy thing for us, is it?  I mean, be totally honest, okay: what would you have said to the woman at the Mail Boxes Etc. counter? Hurry up, already!  Come on lady, move it!  And those are the things you can admit to in public!  What do you say to that guy who cuts you off in traffic, the individual who asks more of you than they really should, the person who receives special treatment or benefits you don’t feel they earned?

Following God’s law goes against our grain, makes things awkward for us, knocks us out of our rhythm, gives us pause.  Which is exactly what it’s supposed to do.  Because a lot can happen in that pause, my friends.  A little “holy space” opened up in our cluttered, over-stuffed lives for God to come in and be with us in a real and powerful sort of way that goes beyond simple allegiance to do’s and don’ts.  And maybe, just maybe, that’s the real crux of living biblically: that ultimately, it’s not about following some laws, as much as it’s about the fact that we are not following ourselves anymore. 

And into that pause, into that “holy space,” we find ourselves in relationship.  That’s the difference-maker, don’t you think?  We’re in relationship with each other; we’re in relationship with God.  It’s what 1 John was getting at in the passage read earlier.  We don’t follow God’s commandments because we’re checking them off like a grocery list.  We follow them out of our relationship with Jesus.  Love is at the heart of that relationship; a love that compels us to change our focus and our orientation and live our lives differently than we did before.  So we don’t follow God’s commandments as a way to get to God – we follow God’s commandments because God has already gotten to us.

And see, that’s one of the reasons why I like this book and am so thankful for the author’s quest of living biblically.  Because he demonstrates for us, quite convincingly, how exhausting it is to try and follow God’s laws like some sort of checklist, where we wind up picking and choosing, where we emphasize some and ignore others.  Like the way we do more often than not.  We need to be in relationship with the One who longs to be in relationship with us.

Now does this make following God’s commandments any easier?  Lord, no!  Does it make it any easier to discern what these commandments, created thousands of years ago in an entirely different culture on the other side of the world, does it make it any easier to figure out what they mean to us in the 21st century?  No, it doesn’t. 

What it does do is set us on a journey that never ends – a journey filled with joys as well as struggles.  Light to our feet, and sometimes even a pain in the neck!  Living biblically is a challenge, that much is for sure.  But being in relationship with the God who created us and the community of faith that nurtures us – well, that makes the effort more than worth our while. 

And with that, women and men of the jury, I rest my case. The question now is what you are going to do with the evidence.  In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit, AMEN.

THE YEAR OF LIVING BIBLICALLY: IT BEGAN WITH A BEARD

Leviticus 19:27; 2 Corinthians 5: 16-21
Steve Lindsley
August 12, 2012

 

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So you’ve probably picked up on the fact that I’m excited about this sermon series I’m starting today, based on the book, The Year Of Living Biblically.  Have you noticed?  I’ve been talking about this for months now.  I’ve put links up on Facebook and Twitter. I blogged about it on the church blog and my sermon blog. I’m ready to go with this thing, right?

So last Sunday I was talking to a church member about the sermon series.  And this individual, who will remain nameless, told me that she was looking forward to the sermon series. And I said that was great and that I was excited that she was excited. And then she said, “Yeah, because I read the book already, and I hated it!  I couldn’t figure out what he was trying to say; it didn’t make any sense to me.  So I’m really looking forward to your sermons, Steve, to help me understand what in the world the guy’s talking about.”

Well, that’s not quite the response I was shooting for!  Because I remember reading this book two summers ago when our family was at the beach. And I really liked it. I thought it was insightful and clever and funny.  The author, AJ Jacobs, is the editor-at-large for Esquire magazine.  A few years back he found his writing niche: something he calls “immersion journalism.”  The idea is that he writes on a particular subject not from a distance, but by totally immersing himself in it.  So, his first book involved reading the encyclopedia from A to Z in a year.  His latest book was an attempt to achieve “bodily perfection” by trying every workout regimen he could find. 

The Year of Living Biblically, which came out in 2007, is subtitled: “One man’s quest to follow the Bible as literally as possible.”  And in that sense, his task is kind of similar to ours.  Not because A.J. is a Christian – more on that later – but because this topic of trying to discern what it means to “live Biblically” and how the Bible informs the way we live our life, is a huge question for our day and time. It is one we struggle with constantly.

I mean, just look at what has happened in the past month.  It comes to the public’s attention that the CEO of a major fast food chain structures his business model around what he calls “biblical principles” – one of which, as he announces on a radio talk show, involves giving millions of dollars every year to anti-gay organizations. Now some people, upon learning this, boldly announce that they’re forever boycotting the fast food chain, because they believe the Bible says something different.  Others respond to this by declaring an “Appreciation Day” for the fast food chain where they flock to the nearest restaurant to partake of, in some cases, all three meals that day – because of what they believe the Bible says.  And then others respond to that by picketing the restaurants on the Appreciation Day, based on what they believe the Bible says.

All of this, over a fast food restaurant!  We’re talking breaded chicken and buttery buns and waffle fries, people.  What happens when it’s what the Bible says about things with a little more weight, like state constitutional amendments or presidential candidates or gun control or health care?

The last word to describe what it means to live biblically in the 21st-century is “simple.”  It’s not simple.  Trying to follow the Bible and letting it guide our lives and knowing what it says to us is difficult and nuanced and multidimensional and, to put it mildly, complicated.

And yet that’s exactly the journey that A.J. Jacobs chronicles in his book. And it’s interesting: he doesn’t try to do this as a person of faith. In fact, while he recognizes his Jewish heritage, A.J. admits up-front that he is Jewish in the same way that the Olive Garden is Italian.  And maybe that’s the way it should be.  Because he's coming into this thing with no biases; no expectations, no agendas. He’s taking part in this little journey fully open to wherever it leads him and however it affects his life.

And those affects are made known to him pretty quickly. While I am encouraging you to read this book on your own throughout the sermon series, each Sunday I’m going to share an excerpt with you. Today I want to read a little bit from the introduction:

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As I write this, I have a beard that makes me resemble Moses. Or Abe Lincoln. Or Ted Kaczynski. I’ve been called all three.

It’s not a well-manicured, socially acceptable beard. It’s an untamed mass that creeps up toward my eyeballs and drapes below my neckline.

I’ve never allowed my facial hair to grow before, and it’s been an odd and enlightening experience. I’ve been inducted into a secret fraternity of bearded guys—we nod at each other as we pass on the street, giving a knowing quarter smile. Strangers have come up to me and petted my beard, like it’s a Labrador retriever puppy or a pregnant woman’s stomach.

I’ve suffered for my beard. It’s been caught in jacket zippers and been tugged on by my surprisingly strong two-year-old son. I’ve spent a lot of time answering questions at airport security.

I’ve been asked if I’m named Smith and sell cough drops with my brother. ZZ Top is mentioned at least three times a week. Passersby have shouted “Yo, Gandalf!” Someone called me Steven Seagal, which I found curious, since he doesn’t have a beard.

I’ve battled itch and heat. I’ve spent a week’s salary on balms, powders, ointments, and conditioners. My beard has been a temporary home to cappuccino foam and lentil soup. And it’s upset people. Thus far, two little girls have burst into tears, and one boy has hidden behind his mother.

But I mean no harm. The facial hair is simply the most noticeable physical manifestation of a spiritual journey I began a year ago.

My quest has been this: to live the ultimate biblical life. Or more precisely, to follow the Bible as literally as possible. To obey the Ten Commandments. To be fruitful and multiply. To love my neighbor. To tithe my income. But also to abide by the oft-neglected rules: to avoid wearing clothes made of mixed fibers. To stone adulterers. And, naturally, to leave the edges of my beard unshaven. I am trying to obey the entire Bible, without picking and choosing.

(from The Year of Living Biblically by A.J. Jacobs. 2007, Simon & Schuster. pgs. 3-4)

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    Sounds like quite a beard there, doesn’t it!  Rather than leave you to rely on your imagination, I want you to see the physical transformation that A.J. went through in his year of living biblically…

Quite a transformation there, isn’t it?  Be advised, folks: this is what living biblically will do to you!

All kidding aside, this is what living biblically will do to you!  It’s not always a pretty proposition, folks.  “A physical manifestation of a spiritual journey” – it leaves a mark!  Over the next few months, we’re going to observe A.J. doing some pretty strange things and wind up in some pretty awkward situations; all as a direct result of his quest to live biblically.  It’s not the comfortable, streamlined “Christian life” that tends to fit all nice and neat in our culture.  Living bibically – as A.J. discovered; as we’ll find – is something else entirely.  Especially when it involves huge chunks of laws and scriptures and stories that we’re not even aware of.

For instance: did you know that the Bible forbids eating shellfish?  Or getting tattoos?  Did you know that you’re not supposed to charge interest on loaned money?  Or touch the skin of a pig, thereby making football illegal?  Did you know that you’re supposed to forgive all debts outright every seven years, no questions asked?  I’m doubtful that the CEO of the aforementioned fast food chain realizes that some of his most celebrated menu items go against the dietary laws found in the scripture from which he’s basing his biblical business model.  Or that politicians so eager to tout their religious cred really out to be giving lots of their money and support to orphans and widows, as mentioned specifically in the Bible.

This is why living biblically is not easy.  It’s the exact opposite of easy!  It’s not easy because, if we really do it, if we truly take our faith seriously, it makes us do all kinds of stuff that looks absolutely nuts.  And what’s more, it can’t help but change us.  Transform us.  And as much as we might say we want to be changed and transformed, the fact is that that sort of thing doesn’t come naturally for us.  We’d rather everything around us change to accommodate our needs, our agendas.  We’re not so keen when it goes the other way.

The Apostle Paul touches on this when he writes his second letter to the church in Corinth; a church he helped to start.  It’s a church that was wrestling with how to follow Jesus and “live Biblically” in the midst of a culture that had no clue what that looked like.  Listen:

From now on, therefore, we regard no one from a human point of view; even though we once knew Christ from a human point of view, we know him no longer that way.  So if anyone is in Christ, there is a new creation: everything old has passed away; see, everything is new!

Jesus told his followers much the same in the Sermon on the Mount – he said: You are the light of the world!  You are the salt of the earth!  You are not what you were before; you have changed.  You are transformed.  And not just in a metaphorical or internal kind way, but in a way that others can’t help but notice.  Like light shining into darkness; like salt adding flavor.  You stick out like a sore thumb, Jesus says.  And because of that, your transformation to something new is going to change the world around you as well.

Now let’s be honest here, shall we?  This is crazy stuff.  Absolutely crazy!  A.J. only had to do it for a year, and people thought he was nuts.  We've made a commitment to follow Jesus for the rest of our lives - how nuts does that make us??

So here’s the question I want us to think about today, and keep in the back of our minds as we read this book and listen to these stories: what does it mean for us to live a life of faith?  What does it mean to be a new creation?  How does what you believe translate into how you live your life?  And like A.J.’s beard: what noticeable changes occur in you when you do your best to “live biblically?”

Because you know what?  I’m going to let you in on a little secret.  The truth is that it wasn’t the beard or long gangly hair A.J. acquired that year that transformed him into something he wasn’t before. Those are not the kinds of things that bring us closer to God.  What brings us closer to God is the act of doing something for reasons beyond ourselves; something that may not come naturally to us.  Growing a long beard, not eating shellfish, forgiving debts.  Carrying the soldier’s pack a second mile, turning your cheek, loving your enemy.  These things take us outside of ourselves; outside of our own agendas and biases and interpretations.  Outside of our political leanings or theolgical stances or whether we’re still going to buy a chicken sandwich from Chick-Fil-A or not.

Living biblically takes us outside of ourselves and puts us squarely in the world around us, and the community of faith among us, and the God who journeys with us.  Living biblically is not about getting caught up in what the Bible says to me, but about who we are called to be in relationship with.  Living biblically is not just about focusing on what God does inside us, but about how we live our lives on the outside. 

And while I don’t want to give too much away in the first sermon, I will say that A.J. found this to be true for him– that by living biblically and doing some strange things, he was changed on the inside. I don’t know that he would’ve called it a conversion, but he became a different person than what he was before.  He was a new creation.

And really – in our journey of faith, isn’t that what it’s all about?  In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, thanks be to God.  AMEN.

Sermon series on "The Year Of Living Biblically" begins this Sunday

And now, a word from your sponsor....

First, thanks for following this sermon blog and keeping up with my weekly homiletical musings at First Pres.  I know you have all kinds of other things you could be doing with your time, and I'm grateful for your reading and listening.

Second, I wanted to let you know (if you haven't heard already) that this coming Sunday I'll be starting a fall sermon series based on the book The Year Of Living Biblically by A.J. Jacobs. This book was a New York Times bestseller back in 2007. Essentially the author – a self-described “reverent agnostic” who was raised as a Jew but says he’s Jewish as much as the Olive Garden is Italian – commits to a full year of following the Bible literally: all the laws, customs, and spirit of the writings of the Old and New Testaments. His book is insightful, thought-provoking, and humorous without making fun of the faith.

Throughout his book, he addresses some questions that are key to people of faith (and certainly preachers writing weekly sermons): if we are people “grounded in the Word,” as some like to say, what exactly does that look like? What parts should be followed literally; and what parts are more symbolism and metaphor? What does it mean to live out our faith when that faith is rooted in the Bible?

This is nothing more than a "heads-up" of what I'll be doing this fall.  I'd encourage you (as I'm encouraging my church folk) to read the book this fall with me.  In fact, everyone - church members and others - are welcome to join me for an informal "coffee talk" every Sunday morning from 10-10:30am where we'll discuss a chapter out of the book.  We'll start that on Sept. 2.  And after that, of course, you can just stick around for worship!

Thanks again for going on this journey with me!

Steve

HOMEMADE BREAD, JUST LIKE JESUS USED TO MAKE

John 6: 51-58
Steve Lindsley
August 5, 2012

Listen To Sermon

This past Tuesday, I rose at the ungodly hour of 5am, packed my Prius and hit the road by 6.  This is not a torture I normally inflict on myself, but you see, I was on a clandestine mission, one I’ve embarked on for three or four years now: to “surprise” the Beacons at their week-long Montreat youth conference.  Now I don’t know how much of a surprise this is anymore, especially when I stand up in the pulpit and tell you as much.  But it’s still a thrill; leaving early enough so I can sneak into Anderson Auditorium and take a seat where the Beacons gather, so when the doors open at 9:15 sharp I’m already there, waiting for them.

Usually I come back that same day, but this year I spent the night and got to witness 29 or so youth and adults cohabitating together.  It’s a pretty amazing sight, really. Lots of couches, chairs, beds, sodas.  And, of course, lots and lots of snacks.  There was this table on the floor level of the girls’ house, where everyone gathered; and it stayed perpetually stocked with goodies all week long.  Nabs, Wheat Thins, Goldfish, Cheetos, Chips, Pringles (which I don’t consider to fall in the “chips” category), pretzels, Cheese Nips, Swiss Rolls, Snak Stiks, Rice Krispie Treats, Fritos…..it was all there, and more.  A cornucopia of snack food heaven.

And every time I passed by that snack table, more often than not stopping to partake of its goodness, it reminded me of an interesting survey I heard about a few years ago by the Smell and Taste Treatment and Research Foundation in Chicago.  I had no idea there was such a thing as a Smell and Taste Treatment Foundation, but what do I know?  Anyway, as part of this study, 800 volunteers took personality tests and were then asked to name their favorite snack foods. The results were pretty amazing: people who share a personality type chose the same snack 95 percent of the time.   

Want to hear what the correlations were?  If you're a fan of cheese curls you tend to have a high sense of morals and ethics.  If popcorn is your favorite, you tend to be the “take-charge” type.  Nut-lovers are even-tempered folks, easy to get along with and highly empathetic.  Pretzel-snackers are the life of the party who quickly become bored with routine and thrive on starting new projects before old ones are finished.   

Still hungry for more? Perfectionists and ambitious-types, as well as those who possess a strong sense of social responsibility, are drawn to tortilla chips. Contemplatives and those who prefer time to themselves might do so as they snack on some crackers.  Potato-chip eaters are achievement-oriented, competitive souls who get frustrated by petty inconveniences like long lines and traffic jams. (http://homileticsonline.com/subscriber/btl_display.asp?installment_id=93040471, visited on 7.27.2009)

All of which gives new meaning to the phrase,” you are what you eat.” Or maybe it’s “you eat what you are.”       

If you're like me when I first heard this, you started racking your brain to figure out your favorite snack food. But you know, sometimes snack foods just don't cut it.  To be honest, I'd be more interested in finding out what bread says about one's personality.  Because I love the stuff.  I try not to eat too much of it – all those carbs, you know.  But you put a loaf of hot, fresh, homemade bread in front of me, especially the kind my grandmother used to make, and it’s hard resisting that!

In fact, I kind of get the feeling that Jesus was fond of the stuff too.  He talks about bread a lot – just look at today’s scripture.  He liked it so much that he described himself as bread – the “bread of life,” is how he put it.  This is par for the course for the gospel of John, by the way – lots of interesting language and rhetoric that distinguishes this gospel from the other three.   Matthew, Mark and Luke tend to speak in a “down-to-earth” style.  With John, though, it’s bigger and larger than life.  If the other gospels are unplugged acoustic at the coffee house, John is arena rock.  Big, large, bombastic: “In the beginning was the word.”  “I am the way, the truth and the life.”  “In my Father’s house there are many rooms.”  And the one that we read today:

I am the living bread that came down from heaven.
Whoever eats of this bread will live forever;
and the bread that I will give for the life of the world is my flesh.

You ever wonder what people in Jesus’ day thought about this “arena rock” language?  I mean, this isn’t the way normal people talk, is it?  When your teacher asks you to say a little bit about yourself on the first day of school this coming week, you don’t respond by saying, “I am the Learning One who enters the hallowed halls of academia to acquire knowledge in the written word.”  No, you say, “I’m a sophomore taking English.”  Most folks don't get the broad strokes of John’s rhetorical brush.

In fact, some in our scripture today took offense at Jesus’ words.  They were more than a little shocked at all his talk about eating flesh and such.  They didn’t get the metaphor – which is not uncommon.  A chapter earlier Nicodemus was trying to figure out how someone could enter their mother’s womb a second time when Jesus brought up “being born again.”

So what’s going on here?  What exactly does Jesus mean when he says he is the “bread of life?”  I don’t know.  I guess it’s important that we remember, as we’re thinking about this, that John’s gospel, like the others, was written many years after Jesus' death.  These aren’t eye-witness accounts here, recounting exact details.  That’s not their point.  Their point is to tell a larger story about Jesus; one that encompasses not just Jesus himself but the community who was trying to follow him.  What was important to them, and where they encountered Jesus in their midst. 

And if that’s true, then it’s pretty obvious where those in John’s story found Jesus – in the bread.  And more specifically, in the Lord's Supper, the “communion” of fellow Christ-followers, the familiar meal of bread and wine – a meal that you and I will share together later in worship.  And it’s interesting, isn’t it, because earlier in this same chapter we have what….?  The Feeding of the 5000 – hungry people in the wilderness, five loaves and two fish, and everyone’s fed.

That story, by the way, is covered in all four gospels.  But there’s a noticeable difference between John’s verision and the others. In Matthew, Mark and Luke, it is the disciples who do the feeding – with Jesus’ guidance, of course; but the disciples are the ones who pass around the baskets of food that never go empty.  But in John, it’s different.  It is Jesus and Jesus alone who feeds everyone – the disciples are nothing more than spectators.  Jesus gives the people the bread they need.

And then later in the same chapter, in our passage today, Jesus gives them a different kind of bread – a bread which doesn't satisfy an empty stomach as much as satisfies the hungry soul.  So not only are we fed by Jesus at this meal, but we are fed Jesus himself.  His flesh and blood – his life, his mission, his very essence.

So in this strange little “bread of life” speech, Jesus makes it clear: he is giving us his all.  He is giving us everything he has to give.  He's giving us challenging words to live by in the message that he spoke.  He's giving us blind that could see, lame that could walk, troubled minds that could be at peace.  He's giving us forgiveness at the woman's stoning, grace at the well, mercy at the tomb and love at a Pharisee's home.  Jesus is giving all of this to us; and at the very end he gives us everything he has left to give – he gives us his life.

And every time that you and I gather before this table, we remember that.  But it’s more than just thinking back.  It’s more than a cognitive exercise.  We re-member Jesus.  We reassembe him in our presence, and he is made alive and whole to us again.  In this sacred space, into our presence, and ultimately into our very bodies.  His flesh into our flesh, his blood into our blood.  His wholeness into our brokenness.

Could there be anything more comforting and reassuring than that?  That as we move through our days, maneuvering through all the highs and lows, we do not go at it alone.  Jesus is with us.  But it’s more than Jesus being beside us or behind us.  Jesus is in us; his life in our life.  We are so fully absorbed into the presence of Christ that we're not even aware how close Jesus really is.  That is what this meal with Jesus means.  That is what this meal with Jesus does.

Which brings us to another study I heard about a while back, although it doesn't have anything to do with snack food.  A few years ago a nationwide poll asked participants what word or phrase they would most like to hear spoken to them, sincerely.  Any guesses?  You probably won't be surprised at the first one.  It was: I LOVE YOU.   That's what people wanted to hear spoken to them the most.

Want to know what the second one was?  Try YOU ARE FORGIVEN.  That makes sense, doesn't it?  We all mess up, make mistakes; and it's comforting to know we don't have to bear that burden forever. YOU ARE FORGIVEN is the second most popular thing people want to hear.

How about number three?  This one's kind of interesting.  SUPPER'S READY!  How about that!  It's dinnertime, the end of the day, and nothing is more satisfying than knowing it's time to eat.  So the third most popular phrase that people want to hear spoken to them: SUPPER'S READY.

So, check this out: I LOVE YOU.  YOU ARE FORGIVEN.  SUPPER'S READY!  Hmm.  Sounds like the perfect welcome to dinner with Jesus, don't you think?   I LOVE YOU . YOU ARE FORGIVEN. SUPPER’S READY! (http://homileticsonline.com/subscriber/illustration_search.asp?item_topic_id=1193, visited on 7.28.2009).

My friends, supper is ready.  Except it’s not the Montreat snack table before us, as good as that table is.  This one’s better.  The Bread of Life and the Cup of Salvation. For you and for me.  Everyone's invited; everyone's welcome!  Eat and drink, all of you; and feel Christ within you and among you.  In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit, thanks be to God.  AMEN.