The Mayberry Preacher

PUTTING THE PUZZLE TOGETHER

Ephesians 4:25-5:2
Steve Lindsley
January 8, 2012

He sits at the cardboard table in the living room, and attention is fully focused on the 1000 puzzle pieces spread out before him.  Amazing little jagged cardboard cuts, no two alike, with nooks and crannies that fit together into one large masterpiece.  He glances over at the picture on the cover – a beautiful vista from the Grand Canyon.  How all of these pieces will come together to look like that, he has no idea.  But that’s the whole point, isn’t it?

He has a routine he follows every time.  First, he gets all the end pieces together to form the frame.  Now comes the hard part – filling it in.  He manages to get a few pieces together into a small mass, but is stumped with one spot. He canvasses the entire table, once, twice, but no luck.  He looks back in the box – its empty.  He casts an accusatory glare at the dog at his feet, whose been known to mistake puzzle pieces for doggie treats from time to time; but there is no guilt on his face. 
Perseverance pays off eventually, and after a fourth look-over he finds the missing piece.  The section comes together beautifully, as does the rest of the puzzle.  And before nightfall he stands back to gaze upon his masterpiece – 1000 individual pieces, all formed together in their unique places to create the beautiful mountain scene. 

My father loves puzzles.  I, however, never inherited his stellar patience.  I’ve never asked him why he took to puzzles the way that he did – but if I had to guess, I’d say it was because there’s great satisfaction in creating, piece by piece, bit by bit, the final completed picture.  Each piece has one and only one place it can go.  And in order for the picture to be complete, every one of those 100, or 500, or 1000, or even 2000 puzzle pieces needs to be in their proper place.  Until that happens, the picture isn’t what it’s meant to be.

Now I don’t know if the apostle Paul was a puzzle guy.  I mean, it wasn’t like the man had a bunch of free time on his hands – persecuting Christians as Saul, then trying to build them up following his conversion.  But it seems to me that Paul is doing a little bit of “puzzling” in his letter to the church in Ephesus.  It’s a congregation that Paul himself had established.  Like most Christian communities in the early days of the church – and, in many ways, like Christians today – these churches struggled with living out the gospel message in their daily lives.  They knew what they needed to do and not do – but putting it all together, with each piece in its proper place, was much easier said than done.

So Paul takes on the role of the Puzzle master, laying each individual piece out on the table before them:

• Put away falsehood and speak the truth
• Do not let the sun go down on your anger
• Do not make room for the devil – I like the way the Good News Bible puts it: Don’t give the devil a chance!
• Thieves must give up stealing
• Let no evil talk come out of your mouth, but only what is useful for building up
• Put away bitterness, wrath, anger, wrangling, slander; and be kind and tenderhearted to one another
• Forgive one another, as God in Christ has forgiven you

And then Paul does something kind of neat in the first verse of chapter five – he reveals to them what the finished picture will look like when all the puzzle pieces are put together.  It’s kind of like laying all the pieces out on the table and then looking on the cover of the box to see what you’re shooting for, you know?  For Paul and those early Christians, the end result is that the people in that church be imitators of God.  That’s the phrase he uses – imitators of God: that their very actions, thoughts, motives, feelings and labors reflect back to the One who created them and loves them still. 

You got to commend Paul for what he does here, don’t you? When the Ephesians – and us, for that matter – speak the truth, when we don’t give the Devil a chance, when we refrain from stealing or speaking evil or getting bitter or angry; when we build up others with our words or live out tenderheartedness; and surely when we forgive, it’s then when the pieces of the puzzle fall into their place and the beautiful picture is born – a community of people, bound together by Christ, imitating their God.

So – we’ve got the pieces and we’ve got the final picture.  But is our work done?  Are our labors as followers of Christ complete?  Far from it!  Far from it.

A preschool teacher tells the story of a little boy in her class one day.  Her group was out on the playground, enjoying a beautiful spring morning, when one of the children in her class came running up in tears – it seems that a boy in the group had hit her in a tussle over who got the swing next.  The teacher went and pulled the boy aside, told him that hitting was not allowed, and directed him to go and apologize to the girl – which he did.  Everything seemed to be back to normal.

Not two minutes later, that girl came running back, crying, saying the same boy had hit her again.  When the teacher called the boy over, he did not seem to understand her frustration.  She asked if he had hit the girl again; he said very matter of factly, “yes.”  She asked why he did that.  He gave the standard child answer, “I don’t know.”  The teacher reiterated that hitting was wrong – didn’t he remember their previous talk?  To which the boy calmly responded, “Oh, yeah; but see, it’s okay, because I’ll just apologize to her later.”

He didn’t realize it, of course, but that little boy demonstrated the one of the greatest stumbling blocks in the Christian life with those puzzle pieces and the final masterpiece.  The boy knew the piece – apologize when you hit someone.  And he knew something about the finalized picture – in this case, getting along with your friends.  What he didn’t realize was the tie between the two, and that apologies could not be used as an indefinite absolution for hitting.  That was not the point of saying he was sorry.  There was an element of transformation that needed to take place; where he would grow and learn from his experience, adding one more piece to the puzzle.

Our story of faith bears a striking resemblance to that boy’s struggle, don’t you think?  We know the puzzle pieces – the Golden Rule, the Ten Commandments, the things Paul lists here.  We get these pieces from our parents, from church, from school.  At the same time, we know something about the end result of all of this – that final picture where we are imitators of God; where God’s will and ours are one and the same. 

The challenge is putting it all together – and therein lies the heart of living out our Christian calling.  Like the young boy on the playground, we are all in need of transformation – a transformation to help us see that life is more than simply following rules.  That our faith is a living faith; one that led a nation to search for a promised land, one that led women and men to speak God’s word, one that led one man in particular to die so that we might have life. 

That’s the puzzle, if you will, of our Christian faith.  It’s a puzzle we all spend the better part of our lives trying to sort out.  It’s a puzzle that nine of you in particular started working on a few months ago, when your phone rang and the person on the other end asked if you’d consider having your name put in nomination to be a ruling elder of this church.  And on this day, a day that we ordain and install Nancy, Jeff, Beth, Mike, Oren, Tom, Daniel, Catherine and Garrett, we lift you up in prayer as you help us figure out what masterpiece God is working on here at First Presbyterian Church.  And if there’s anything I could tell you as you begin your time of service, tell all of us here, it’s that the masterpiece and the puzzle pieces needed to put it together can often surprise us beyond measure.

Kathleen Norris is an author and a member of a Presbyterian church in South Dakota.  But that wasn’t always the case.  For a number of years she believed in Jesus but was suspicious of the institution of the church.  And even as she prepared to join the church, she still felt apart from it; still trying to put the puzzle pieces together to form the masterpiece she had in her mind.
Listen to a story she tells us from her book Amazing Grace:

It was January, bitterly cold and windy, on the day that I joined the church; and I found that the sub-zero chill perfectly matched my mood.  As I walked to the church, into the face of that wind, I was thoroughly depressed.  I didn’t feel much like a Christian and wondered if I was making a serious mistake.  I still felt like an outsider in the church and wondered if I always would.  Yet I knew that somehow, in ways I did not yet understand, making this commitment was something I needed to do.
Before the service, the new members gathered with some of the elders.  One was a man I’d never liked much.  I’ll call him Ed.  He always seemed ill-tempered to me, and also a terrible gossip, epitomizing the small mindedness that can make small-town life such a trial.  The minister had asked him to formally greet the new members.  Standing awkwardly before our small group, Ed cleared his throat and mumbled, “I’d like to welcome you to the body of Christ.”

The minister’s mouth dropped open, as did mine – neither of us had ever heard words remotely like this come from Ed’s mouth.  Like distant thunder, the words made me more alert….I was astonished to realize, as that service began, that while I may never like Ed very much, I had just been commanded to love him.  My own small mind had just been jolted, and the world seemed larger, opened in a new way.

“Be imitators of God,” Paul says.  This means we are to copy God’s grace and love and hospitality, even if we’ll never come close to divine perfection, because we never well.  This means welcoming all people into the body of Christ – even the ill-tempered, even the gossiper, even the small-minded.  And it means allowing ourselves to become part of a body that is made up of imperfect components. 

Which is why, as we begin another calendar year together, as we ordain and install our new ruling elders, I want to encourage us to take up the hobby of putting puzzles together.  But not necessarily the cardboard pieces and boxes variety.  Let’s work together on the puzzle God has given our church; working toward the masterpiece God has in store.  Believe me, it’s a lot prettier than the Grand Canyon.  Thanks be to God.  AMEN.

TO EACH IS GIVEN: THE GIFT OF OUR GIFTS

Ephesians 4: 11-16, 1 Corinthians 12: 14-26
Steve Lindsley
March 21, 2010

This morning we happily welcomed three new families into the life of our church.  Earlier today our session met with these families and received them as new members.  And whenever we do this, whenever we have this session meeting for new members, I can't help but think back a few years to another New Member Sunday.  One of the families that was joining introduced themselves to the session and said a few words; and then turned to their two daughters and asked if they had anything to add.  And that’s when one of the girls, at the time just ten years old, looked straight at the elders of our church with bright eyes and a wide smile, flashed a thumbs-up sign, and emphatically proclaimed, “This church rocks!”

Now I love the fact that a grade-school kid felt totally comfortable expressing this in a roomful of ordained church elders.  Besides the fact that there are many who would, frankly, agree with her.  We all feel it.  We all feel excited about the ways God is moving and acting in our midst.  Which is why it's important, I think, that we take time to consider exactly why it is that this church “rocks.”  And in a sense, that's a big part of what the Lenten journey is about.

You may recall, back on the first Sunday of that journey, that I stood here in this pulpit and challenged us all not to just give something up for Lent – as is typically our custom – but to take something on.  I asked you, over the course of the next few weeks, to prayerfully consider what God may be calling you to “take on” here.  And since then we've talked about how we discern God's call; we've talked about the fact that we don't need to be afraid of that call, and we've talked about serving God with the outlandish hope that comes to us, even and especially as we make our way through a broken world. 

All of which brings us to this day – Spring Discipleship Sunday, when we dedicate ourselves and our very lives to the One who long ago claimed us as God's own.  After church every one of you will hopefully join us in the Fellowship Hall for a covered-dish lunch, where you will have the opportunity to meet with your church elders and speak with them about how you can put your gifts to use in the life of this church.  Curious about the new things happening in our church's educational ministry?  See Valerie Parker.  Want to get involved in our church's mission efforts?  Lee Daniels is your guy.  Interested in learning how our church can continue its mission to “go green?”  Make sure you talk to Mike Branch.  Thinking about helping in our efforts to connect with homebound members through the Philip Fellowship?  Jane Rountree would be more than happy to talk with you.  There's a place for everyone to serve in this church, because there is plenty for us to do.  And lest we deceive ourselves into thinking that there's not a place for us, or we don't have anything to give, let us be reminded of Paul's famous words; words that have served as our sermon theme this Lenten season – to each is given!

And it's not just in 1 Corinthians where Paul makes this case – he reiterates it in a letter to the church in Ephesus.  Mark has already read these verses and the type of gifts Paul talks about; but it's in the 12th and 13th verses that he really speaks as to why the gifts are so important:

(The gifts God has given us are) to equip the saints for the work of ministry,
for building up the body of Christ,
until all of us come to the unity of the faith and of the knowledge of the Son of God.

As a writer Paul doesn't waste a word; each one chosen carefully.  This passage is an example of that, as three words in particular jump out at us.  The first is “unity,” a word found over and over again in Ephesians.  Time and time again Paul implores his readers to know that the gifts they've been given are meant to be diverse, not divisive.  Because there's a difference between unity and uniformity.  Unity is the common bond we share together as the people of God and our belief in Jesus Christ.  Uniformity, though, is when people see everything in like mind.  And the mistake is assuming that the only way to be the one body of Christ is to adopt a single set of beliefs, one standard, one perspective that everyone has to abide by.  Unity and uniformity in religion are not the same thing – and they shouldn’t be. 

That's why the writer of Ephesians wants the people to focus on the things they have in common, the things that bring them together as the one body of Christ.  In fact, “body of Christ” is another phrase here – something Paul develops much more in the other passage Mark read.  Each part of the body is unique, and each is important in their own way.  Each part of the body has its own purpose, but there is not one part that is more important than another.  Just like human bodies need all parts to get involved and stay involved in order to function, so the church needs each and every “part” to be involved too. 

Except it doesn't always happen like that.  Except that sometimes the body doesn't function like it's supposed to.  Sometimes the different parts of the body aren't coordinated with each other, or are broken or injured in some way, with the end result being that the body doesn't do all it's supposed to do.  You know, I hesitate to bring up a basketball image here, seeing what happened to my Demon Deacons last night in the NCAA Tournament, but nevertheless, I remember someone once telling me that the church today often looks like a basketball game: you've got a handful of players who sure could use some rest, and a whole bunch of spectators who sure could use some exercise! 

Now I don't know if that's always the case, it's probably over-generalizing things a bit, but perhaps there is some truth in there.  Being in the church of Jesus Christ is not a spectator sport!  Our church's vision statement, approved by your session five years ago, says it quite clearly: We glorify God through our active participation in the life of the church.  It's not just about getting stuff done – it's about glorifying God!  The question, of course, is what exactly constitutes “active participation.”  There are those who feel it means simply showing up on Sunday mornings – is that all?  There are others who talk about taking up offering or preparing desserts for Friends Feeding Friends.  Does one have to be on the session to be an “active participant?”   Or is it, as some would suggest, about financial giving?  What exactly entails our involvement in the “work” of ministry in the church?

Have you ever thought about that?  I mean, have you ever stopped to give serious, prayerful consideration to what your role in this church is, and in the mission of the church universal?  If you haven't, I really want to encourage you to do that, sooner rather than later.  Because, going back to the apostle Paul, we’re not all feet.  We’re not all hands.  We’re not all ears.  We each have a different function, and we can’t keep comparing apples to oranges.  Some people have job responsibilities that make it difficult to get here every Sunday morning.  Some have health issues that make taking on certain tasks unfeasible.  Some have financial constraints that limit how much they can give.  But none of those things changes the fact that we all are some part of the body of Christ.  And in order for the body to do its thing, it needs us.  Contrary to what some might say, God can't do what God needs done alone.  God needs us!

Which brings us to another image Paul includes in his letter – right off the bat, in fact: the “work of ministry” and the “building up” of the body of Christ.  There's no real way around this, folks: ministry is work!  Sure, it's fun and renewing and meaningful and life-giving work.  But it's still work!   It takes concentrated, intentional effort on our part to become the church of Jesus Christ!  It involves some “building” activity in the same way we construct a house from the ground up, with lots of thought and planning and preparation and a little sweat thrown in.  It can be tiring – just ask Shasta and the adult youth advisors how tired they feel after this weekend's Beacon lock-in.  Ministry is a marvelous kind of work; unique and different from all the other “works” we're engaged in in our lives.  But it's still work.  It demands something from us, even when we may not be so hot on giving it.

Listen: I grew up in a Presbyterian church in Raleigh that had over 4000 people in its membership.  Our sanctuary sat close to a thousand, and each Sunday morning brought three well-attended worship services.  Back in the day communion was served with glass, not plastic, cups.  These glasses had to be washed after all three services.  On one occasion our youth group volunteered to wash those cups.  At least that's what we had been told; that “we” had “volunteered” to wash the cups.  I hadn't volunteered to wash the cups.  None of my friends recalled volunteering to wash the cups.  But there were were on a sunny spring Sunday afternoon, when our youth group could've been outside playing volleyball in the parking lot or hanging out in the youth house, instead in the back of the sanctuary washing and drying hundreds and hundreds of communion glass cups.

It is probably not hard to imagine the moaning and groaning that was going on.  And to this day I give thanks to God for the youth advisor working with us, who certainly had every right to stand tall and proud on his holy soapbox and berate this ungrateful group of misfits.  Instead he came up to me, put his hand on my shoulder and a smile on his face, and said, “Son, sometimes ministry is work.  That's not such a bad thing, is it?”  Sometimes ministry is work – and that was the first time that I had ever given thought to the idea that what were doing was “ministry.”  It also helped put things in perspective when he observed that, were these communion cups not washed, God's next great meal with the church would be a “bread only” affair.  I can promise you, the next time we had communion, I was a little more aware when I held that glass cup in my hand and the minister said, “Drink this and remember me.” 

I'm reminded of that story from my past every time I walk into our church's Historical Room and see the old communion set on the shelf with the glass cups.  And while I'm in there, I look around at all the pictures of people and the framed documents and old directories and books; artifacts telling the story of over 150 years of “work in ministry” by our predecessors; those who laid the foundation we stand on today.  And I wonder to myself: what's this room going to look like in 48 years, when the First Presbyterian Church of Mount Airy celebrates its 200th anniversary?  What will be the signs of the last 50 years of this church's work?  And most importantly: how will the things you and I do right now show up – or not show up – in that room?  What story of work in ministry will it tell those who come after us?

Ministry is work, but it is a gift.  It is the greatest gift we can give to God – to serve God, serve each other, serve this church.  And let us never doubt the amazing things God can do with our simple gifts.  Many years ago, a man named Wheeling Gaunt died.  He had been an ex-slave at the turn of the 19th century. Just before his death, Mr. Gaunt deeded nine acres of land at the south edge of town to the village of Yellow Springs; and he arranged it so that the proceeds from the sale would provide Christmas gifts every year for "poor widows" in the community in perpetuity.  Over a hundred years later, a complete turkey dinner with all the fixings still arrives at the home of every widow in town just in time for the holidays. 

Perhaps the inscription on Mr. Gaunt’s tombstone says it all: Not what you get, it reads, but what you give.   I'm not going to get all cliché on you here and ask what your tombstone is going to say.  Instead, I'm going to ask what your life is saying right now about the ways you are putting your wonderful gifts to work in the ministry of God's church – a church that needs all parts of the body to do their thing in order to keep being a church that “rocks!”  Thanks be to God.  AMEN.

(Mr. Gaunt story - "http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Yellow_Springs,_Ohio"http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Yellow_Springs,_Ohio, visited on 10.18.2006)

CLAIM OUR INHERITANCE!

Ephesians 1: 11-23
Steve Lindsley
November 1, 2009

They are gathered there in the conference room, awaiting the attorney's arrival. There are shelves on all sides from floor to ceiling with tons of hardback books resting on them.  They are sitting in classy leather chairs situated around a large cherry oak desk. The adult siblings have gathered in the attorney's conference room because the last living parent died the previous month, the funeral two weeks prior; and now it is time for the will to be read.  There is a noticeable tension in the room – not only because of the family rift that's been in existence for years, but also – and perhaps mostly – because no one knows for sure how things will pan out, their father having been quite secretive over the years.  And so they wonder: will it be fair and equitable, or will it play to favorites?  Will the children get what they want, or perhaps what they deserve?

The doorknob turns, and in walks the attorney, carrying a stack of files and a large sealed envelope.  She takes her seat at the head of the table.  She welcomes everyone and thanks them for their attendance.  She suggests that they move to the matter at hand and promptly opens the envelope.  Everyone in the room stiffens. Pulling out a single piece of paper she reads the following:

Being of sound mind and rational thought, I willfully and voluntarily make this declaration to be followed when I am no longer living, or if I become incompetent or incapacitated to the extent that I am unable to communicate my wishes, desires and preferences on my own.

To my children: you have been and always will be part of my family.  I love you and you are mine, now and always.  Even when we are apart, we will always be together.

To that end, I now grant you your inheritance.  Although, I imagine much to your surprise, this inheritance does not involve any land or property or cash.  There are no stocks to be divested; no cars or homes to be distributed.  I leave you with nothing that can translate into any worldly value.

What I do leave you with, though, is something far more valuable: each other.  Your inheritance is simply being part of this family and carrying on the family into the future.  Your inheritance is the responsibility that comes with continuing the family's good name.  Your inheritance is also recognizing that you are a family – even when you disagree and fight, even when you bicker and carry grudges.  The bonds that hold you together will always be stronger than the things that can tear you apart.

This is my inheritance I leave with you.  Use it well, and do not waste it.  If you care for it, and care for each other, it will multiply in ways you could never imagine.

With all my love, Dad.


The room is silent; its residents stunned.  Even the attorney doesn't know what to make of what she just read.  The family members look at each other, not sure whether to laugh or to cry.  Is this some kind of joke?  Did they just get duped out of their father's estate?  Or were they given something worth much more, something that even they, in their heart of hearts, knew they needed above anything else?

I've never had to be part of a meeting like this myself.  I know some of you have, and that in many ways it is a conversation entered into with some anxiety and mystery – not only because of the loss of that precipitated it, but because one doesn't always know how the chips are going to fall, so to speak.  Even so, I think it'd be safe to say that a meeting like this, with an inheritance like this, would surprise and shock even the most prepared.  And yet this is pretty much the way that things played out in the first chapter of Ephesians.

According to Merriam-Websters, an inheritance is defined as “the acquisition of a possession, condition, or trait from past generations.”  To put it simply, it’s when something is handed down to someone else.  Typically this takes the form of any number of assets – a large sum of money when someone dies, land or property from one generation to the next, even furniture when elderly parents move out of their large home to a smaller condo.

That's all well and good – but what exactly do we do with the kind of inheritance the writer of Ephesians talks about – what he calls the “word of truth” and “the gospel of your salvation?”  How does one make sense of something as intangible and vague as this? And what are the “benefits” of such an inheritance?

It's a reasonable question.  And the truth is, we really don't know much about the church in Ephesus. We do know that it was a port city off the Mediterranean Sea, so it saw lots of trade and traffic during the height of the Roman empire.  We also know the letter itself was probably written some sixty years after Jesus' death.  So maybe we can imagine what the Christian community there was like – a diverse group of folks, probably fairly well-off, trying to practice a faith foreign in their region, surrounded by temples to Roman gods and the ever-present drive of commerce.  These people were far-removed from Palestine and the Holy Land, which essentially made them an outpost of sorts in the Christian world.  It's easy to imagine, then, that this physical distance from the geographical center of their faith made it hard to feel connected with the growing church.

And maybe that's one of the reasons why this inheritance the writer speaks of was so important to them.  Because it's not “stuff” they need to help them be a stronger faith community.  What they really needed in Ephesus was a sense of connection to the body of Christ; a sense of belonging to something bigger than themselves, especially since that “something” was far removed from where they were.  Because what comes with their inheritance is a sense of responsibility – an understanding that what is passed on needs to be taken care of, used wisely, used in the spirit with which it was given. 

So in the very first verses of this letter, more than likely read in a worship service as a sermon, those Ephesians were told: they had been given an amazing gift to carry on the work and ministry of Jesus Christ; of living out the faith they pledged their allegiance to, of allowing the Holy Spirit to infiltrate their ranks and guide them forward.  They knew their gift was one that was only good as long as it was put it to use.  As heirs of this inheritance, they were forever engrafted into the work of the body of Christ, now a part of its mission and vision. 

And here's the good news for us: inheritances like this are passed on.  So hear anew the words of scripture, my friends:  In Christ, you – the First Presbyterian Church of Mount Airy – YOU have also obtained an inheritance, so that we on the corner of Church and Main might live for the praise of his glory.  You, the members of this great faith community, you are named and claimed by the God who created you, who loves you, who lived and died for you.  You have a place in this world!  You have meaning and purpose and a reason for getting out of bed every day – to love God with all your heart, all your soul, all your mind and all your strength; and to love your neighbor as yourself.  As one who has received this inheritance you are a blessed and loved people with a mission and vision before you!

But that's not the end of things is it?  It's not just about us being blessed and loved, right?  Because there's something else going on here, something else going on in the Ephesian church; something that was playing itself out in church communities throughout the first century – the rift between Jews and Gentiles.  It was inevitable, of course.  Jews believed they were the “rightful heirs” to this inheritance, given that this new movement later known as Christianity was forever rooted in the Hebrew faith.  But as word of Jesus spread outside Jewish circles – and to places like Ephesus – Gentiles contended that they too were heirs of the promise, deserving the same inheritance.  This conflict would define the work of the early church and lead to the all-important question: who is the most deserving of this inheritance?

Haggling over an inheritance is nothing all that new, of course.  In many ways it reminds us of another story in the Bible, one told just a few years before the writer of Ephesians put pen to paper.  You know the story.  It's about a son who talks his father into giving him his inheritance, and how he leaves town and promptly wastes it.  If there was one thing you did not do in the ancient world, you did not dishonor your family by wasting your inheritance.  At the end of his rope and deciding he had no other choice, the son returns home; and to his surprise his father not only welcomes him back but rolls out the red carpet for him, throwing a lavish party and inviting everyone to join in the celebration, all because his “lost son” is now found.

The younger son is not the only one surprised.  Because there is another son, an older brother who is perhaps the real focus of the story.  He is not at the party but is instead out working in the fields – working for his father, as he has done faithfully for years.  And he is furious, to put it mildly, when he gets word of the goings-on.  And the thing is, he's not really upset at his worthless, no-good, idiot of a brother who has returned.  What infuriates him, what makes his blood boil and eats at his insides like a cancer, is the fact that his father has taken him back home – after all he did to him, after trashing the family name, after making a fool of himself and wasting a perfectly good inheritance.

His father goes out to him in the fields and begs: Please, come to the party.  The son lays into his old man, calling attention to the years and years of faithful, hard labor he provided his father while “that son of his” was off somewhere doing the exact opposite.  He never got a party of his own!  And the father continues to plead: Son, please come to the party.  Just please come to the party.....

Perhaps the greatest challenge of the Christian faith is coming to grips with the fact that grace far exceeds the limits and expectations we would otherwise place on it; and that the heirs of the inheritance have many different faces, many different lives, many different voices.  I think I heard one of those voices a few days ago on the other end of the phone line, in fact.  I was in the office this past Friday working on a funeral and answered the phone.  The voice on the other end said he needed to speak with the pastor, that he needed to get some things in his life straightened out.  I told him I was tied up until around three that afternoon.  He said he'd see me then.

Around three he walked in the glass door downstairs and it was obvious that he had apparently already resorted to other means to try and work his problems out.  His breath wreaked of Wild Irish Rose, he was incoherent and belligerent, he was paranoid and inconsolable.  We sat down in the lobby.  He babbled on about how he was a member of the Church of Christ somewhere but they kicked him out; how he had a job in Texas but lost it, how he was homeless in Winston-Salem and caught the PART bus up to Mayberry.  I texted Lynn upstairs and told her to call the police for help.  They came and gave him a breathalyzer test, for which he blew a .29.  We talked for a while, me and the guy and the police; and the more we talked the more I realized this man was terribly drunk, terribly sick, and terribly desperate.  There was a rope, and he was at his end of it.

The police would later take him to the hospital to have him checked out, and they said after that he'd probably go to jail.  And then – who knows?  And all I could think about as I walked back up to my office and sat back at my computer to finish this sermon was that I had just met and talked with a fellow heir of the inheritance.  Because while I had no idea who this guy was, where he had been or where he was going, the only thing that truly mattered to the One passing on the inheritance was that we were both His children, created in His image, fully vested and deserving of all benefits and entitlements.

This is the story for people like you and me: people like the older brother, the Jew in the Ephesian church, the one answering the phone on a Friday.  This is the story of the joy of the inheritance we've received and the burden we have to make sure it is shared with all.  Thanks be to God.  AMEN.