The Mayberry Preacher

KINGDOM-LIVING: NOT THE "DON'T'S" YOU'VE ALWAYS AVOIDED

Matthew 5: 21-42
Steve Lindsley
March 27, 2011

When I was a junior in high school, my English classroom was right above the school auditorium.  So when the girls chorus practiced in there during 5th period, our teacher, Mrs. Norton, would look over her shoulder as if her glare could pierce through the cinderblock wall behind her to the auditorium below.  Then she would face us and roll her eyes – she would drag it out for added emphasis.  Sometimes she would make some snide comment to go with it, but you could at least count on the eye-rolling.

It’s kind of sad that’s pretty much all I remember about Mrs. Norton.  Most of the time you have a stockpile of memories of teachers who heavily influenced you at some point during your life; and as hard as I’ve tried I can’t recall much more about her.  You might be inclined, then, to say that this woman wasn’t much of an influence on me.  But the fact is, she was.

Because there was one other thing I remember about Mrs. Norton’s English class, and it had nothing to do with loud girls choruses and predictable eye-rolling.  It was something that happened when our class was discussing one of the books we’d been reading – typical 11th grade book; I want to say it was Tennessee Williams’ The Glass Menagerie.  We were talking about the interplay between the characters, the dynamics of their relationships.  And that’s when Mrs. Norton provided me with one of those wonderful school moments when you know what you’re learning is going to stick with you far beyond the next test.  She said, Every person you come into contact with in your life, no matter how short or how long you know them, every person becomes a part of who you are.

It was simple enough, and yet I’ve never forgotten it – even to this day, some 25 years later.  The idea that everyone I meet in my walk of life – not only my wife, who knows me as well as anyone, but even the random person I briefly spoke with on my plane flight home from Austin last summer – every one has become a part of me in some significant way.

And in a sense I’m wondering if that’s what Jesus was getting at as he went deeper and deeper into his sermon on the hillside; as he got beyond his “blessings” and came to the very heart of his message to the people.  We’ve been talking about Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount during this Lent season, talking about this whole notion of “kingdom-living.”  And we’ve wondered out loud if the issue Jesus is getting at here is not how we get to heaven when we die, but how we live on earth before we die? 

So what exactly is “kingdom-living?”  Well, one thing’s for sure – whatever it is, it’s not easy!  That becomes quite apparent the more Jesus talks, as he digs deeper and deeper into the kingdom.  We find five statements – more like formulas, really: you have heard that it was said, where Jesus states a well-known Mosaic law, followed by but I say to you, where Jesus takes that law to a different place entirely.  And it’s more than simply adding a new twist to things; it flirts very closely with completely rewriting it: You know not to kill – but don't hate either!  You know not to swear falsely – but don't lie at all!  You know now to commit adultery – but man, don’t even look at her!  You know not to retaliate – but dare to fight violence with nonviolence! 

Two thoughts pop in my head as I read these.  First, if the “blessings” Jesus laid out mere seconds before didn’t leave the people collectively scratching their heads, you can bet this certainly did.   I mean, even some of the solutions Jesus offers sound pretty extreme – cutting off your hands or tearing out your eyes, turning the cheek, walking an extra mile.  If this was the first encounter most of those people had with Jesus, you have to wonder how many of them stuck around! 

The second thing that occurs to me, and I wonder if it does to you too, is that this deeper meaning that Jesus is getting at isn’t exactly making things easy for us, is it? We’re not supposed to kill – okay, that’s pretty basic.  But not be angry – how in the world are we supposed to do that?  We’re not supposed to cheat on our spouse – fine.  But we can’t control our thoughts and our feelings!  And we’re not supposed to fight violence with violence – makes sense.  But what are we supposed to do, then – just suck it up and take it? 

One of the pitfalls of these verses, I think, is that we wind up doing the very thing Jesus begs us not to do – to idolize the laws themselves, even the newer ones.  Which is why I wonder if Jesus is up to something far more subversive here; far more radical than some refined “do’s” and “don’t’s.”  I mean, look at what Jesus is talking about; look beyond the laws he quotes and the new ones he creates to see the key issues: Anger.  Broken relationships.  Lying.  Violence.  All of these share a common center: relationships.  In their own way they describe how people interact with each other, the dynamics at play, how we fail to live into the kingdom of God.

Which makes sense, if you think about it, that Jesus would bring this up now.  I mean, if the Beatitudes we talked about last week were the membership requirements of God’s kingdom – the “blessed” ones in Jesus’ eyes – then today’s verses are its Code of Conduct – not who the people are, but how the people treat each other.

And right here is perhaps where kingdom-living gets the hardest, where the proverbial rubber meets the road.  Because it’s one thing to follow laws and check them off your list and look out for yourself.  That’s what the Pharisees did – and, to be honest, it’s how a lot of people of faith seem to live today, treating the Christian journey as some solo excursion.  But it’s something else entirely, as Jesus talks about, to be in relationship with others and engage in the Christian journey together.  That’s hardly ever easy.
Now the fact that some people are difficult to get along with is reflected in, of all things, a sampling of bumper stickers that cruise around on the backs of our cars at any given moment.  Perhaps you’ve seen some of them:

The more people I meet, the more I like my dog.

Sometimes I wake up grumpy; other times I let him sleep.

All men are idiots, and I married their king.

How can I miss you if you won't go away?

We laugh, of course, because it’s funny.  But I think we also laugh because the truth hits home.  It’s hard business getting along with people these days.  It’s hard enough when you throw things into the mix like politics and religion and other things that we’re passionate about.  But sometimes there are just people who, despite your best intentions, for no real reason whatsoever, almost seem to thrive in making life miserable for you.  The fact that forgiveness is something we have to consciously choose to do, the fact that Jesus has to even broach the topics of anger and violence and truth-telling, tells us all we need to know – that our world is a broken one, and the greatest schisms come about from our fractured relationships with each other.

Shasta was telling me a few weeks ago about something the keynote speaker said at their recent senior high presbytery retreat.  He asked everyone to close their eyes and imagine someone they didn’t get along with; someone who had hurt or wronged them at some point.   Something I imagine we all could do!  And then Todd invited everyone to do something that probably didn’t come very naturally – to pray for that person.  And not pray things like, Dear God, please let so-and-so know what a rotten jerk they are.  Not to pray at them, but to pray for them, sincerely and completely, as the child of God they are.

I wonder if that’s the kind of thing that Jesus was getting at here – beyond simple “do’s” and “don’t’s,” beyond basic exhortations like not being angry and going the extra mile.  I wonder if what Jesus really wanted us to hear in all of this was the undeniable truth of the matter – that we were never intended to be unto ourselves, blazing our own trail, making our own way alone.  We all are, in fact, tied to each other, symbiotically; and this is not some kind of sociological concept or psychological observation, but it is in fact our God-created and ordained reality.

I wonder if that’s why my 11th-grade English teacher continues to make such an impression on me all these years later.  Because it changes the way you think when you realize that every person you come into contact with becomes a part of you, doesn’t it?  It leads you to realize that in God’s kingdom – in this very world, in fact – we are all intertwined in a very real and powerful way.  That kingdom-living, when we grab a hold of it the way Jesus so very much wants us to, will truly transform how we treat each other:

• We would not simply condemn the act of murder, but we would promote the value of all life, no matter how young or old, how rich or poor; no matter the nationality or religion;
• We would not only advocate strong marriages, but we would uphold the sacredness of all human relationships, as well as relationships with other creatures of God and with creation itself;
• We would not only chastise someone for using God's name in vain, but we would condemn any language that tears people down; and instead we would push for open honest dialogue to take its place;
• We would not only press for fairness and equality - “eye for eye and tooth for tooth” – but we would go out of our way to support peacemaking and nonviolent resistance to oppressive powers.

A long time ago, an ancient rabbi once asked his pupils how they could tell when the night had ended and the new day was dawning. "Could it be," asked one student, "that it happens when you see an animal in the distance and can tell whether it is a sheep or a dog?"

"No," answered the Rabbi.

Another student raised his hand.  “Well, Rabbi, could it be that it happens when you look at a tree in the distance and tell whether it is a fig tree or a peach tree?"

The rabbi shook his head again.

Still another student spoke up.  “Rabbi, I’m wondering if it happens when you look off in the distance and can see faint signs of light where there was once only dark.”

“That is close,” the Rabbi replied, “but still incorrect.”

The pupils were stumped.  "Well then, Rabbi, what is it?"

And the wise old teacher responded with words of immense wisdom: "You can tell when the night has ended and the new day is dawning when you look on the face of any woman or man and see that they are loved by God and that they are therefore your brother or your sister.  Because if you cannot do this, then no matter what time it is, it is still night." (http://homileticsonline.com/subscriber/illustration_search.asp?item_topic_id=927, visited on 3.21.2011)

My friends, my brothers and sisters, Jesus came to put us on notice: The night is ending.  A new day is dawning.  Thanks be to God!  AMEN.

MORE THAN WORDS FOR A WEDDING

1 Corinthians 13: 1-13
Steve Lindsley
January 17, 2010

It happens most every time I meet with an engaged couple as we plan the details of their wedding.   At some point, around our third meeting, we focus on the service and what they want it to be like.  Lots of details to iron out: how many bridesmaids and groomsmen, whether or not they want a unity candle, whether they'd like someone to read a poem or scripture.  And it's here where it usually comes up, and it's described to me in any number of ways:  I'd like someone to read the “Love Chapter”  – or – Pastor, could you use that thing from the Bible that talks about, you know, love and stuff –  or – Let's read that thing that everyone uses at weddings.

I smile and nod my head, knowing exactly what they're talking about.  And the fact that they can't refer to it as the thirteenth chapter of Paul's first letter to the church in Corinth isn't that big of a deal.  I know what they're talking about.  It's the “Love Chapter,” after all – lots of wonderful, beautiful, poetic words.  They are read at weddings because one would hope the two people making this kind of commitment are doing so out of love for each other. 

And Lord knows the words do strike a chord on the big day, don't they?  Love is patient and kind – the young couple look wistfully at each other, knowing full well these are virtues they'll need to make good use of in their life together.  Love is not envious or boastful or arrogant or rude – how about that argument last week, huh?  Love does not insist on its own way – they chuckle openly, as they understand that individuals agendas must now be merged with a new unified one.  Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things – love never ends.  Aaah!

As long as I have the pleasure of officiating weddings I will never deny a couple the chance to have “the Love Chapter” read at their service.  But I'll be honest with you – if I had my druthers, I would encourage folks to look elsewhere for that special wedding reading.  And it's not that 1 Corinthians 13 aren't beautiful words – they are.  It's not because they don't convey an important truth that all people should put to use in human relationship – they do. 

No, it's the fact that we've relegated these thirteen verses to almost pop culture status, like some sweet slogan you find etched in a card in the Hallmark store.  We've even given them a name - “Love Chapter – that conveniently removes them from their original context.  We've enshrined the words themselves in brass so any variation of the words as we're used to hearing them doesn't seem “right” – like the wedding when I read a different translation and was accosted by someone afterwards for not reading the assigned verses.  How ironic is it that we have actually fallen in love with the words themselves, more so than the message they are trying to convey!

Because I'll tell you this – when the apostle Paul sat down to write these thirteen verses, I can promise you the last thing he had on his mind were weddings.  In fact, if you want to know the truth, Paul was angry when he wrote this.  Angry and furious and frustrated at a particular gathering of Christians in the Greek seaport town of Corinth.  It didn't help that this church was his baby – a fellowship he founded and was still heavily invested in.  Like a loving parent he had guided them along the way – infancy and childhood had gone okay, but now the church was approaching adolescence, and you know how that goes.  He saw amazing potential in this faith community in this thriving port town – lots of diversity and resources, a strong economy.  But he also watched in agony as those same things became the very source of something you would never expect in a community of faith: conflict.

Yes, I know – conflict.  In a church, can you imagine?!  It's hard to believe, isn't it, that a group of people united by the life, death and resurrection of Jesus Christ, gathering together to worship and serve God, could ever get entangled in the messy web of conflict.  But it happened.  Here's just a smattering of what the Corinthian church was dealing with:

• There were people in church leadership caught up in power struggles
• There were people in the church who weren't following proper order and polity
• There were people – actual church members! - engaging in some inappropriate behavior outside of church
• And here's the kicker – there were people there whose hair had grown too long for proper church worship!

You know, I'm not sure whether it disturbs me or makes me feel better that the church 2000 years ago – just decades removed from Jesus walking the earth – the church then encountered the same kinds of conflicts and divisions that plague the church today!  Things had gotten pretty bad for the Corinthian church.  They were beyond just simply not getting along – they were barely living on the same planet.  The divisiveness and discord had become so embedded in their fellowship that it was threatening the very existence of the church.

That's the hard part of being the church, isn't it – an imperfect people worshipping and serving a perfect God?  That just clashes, doesn't it?  Out of its brokenness, the church is supposed to point people to the One who heals all rifts and brings about wholeness.  Out of its brokenness, the church is somehow supposed to do that.  And while the church has and will continue to do amazing and wonderful things, it will also stumble along the way.  It can't help it.  The church lives into its mission and vision in spite of itself.

You know, I can't help but think of a NOVA TV special I saw on PBS a few years back.  This particular episode had been billed as one that would focus on two groups whose members worked tirelessly for the good of the community, above and beyond all individual needs.  No individual put themselves first.  I wondered what groups of extreme selflessness would be chronicled – some previously undiscovered tribe in the African jungle?  An isolated clan living in the interior of South America?  Some unique cohort in the far, frozen North?  No.  The NOVA program focused on ants and cockroaches.  Ants and cockroaches!  In their quest to find individuals that are by nature selfless, NOVA had to look outside our own species.

It was out of this sense of frustration and bewilderment that I imagine Paul sitting down to write his letter.  In his mind he recounts all the difficulties this Corinthian church he loved so much was facing – all the pettiness that had festered to toxic levels; all the divisiveness that apparently ants and cockroaches can work through.  He's torn between feelings of anger and sorrow, between irritation and pity, trying to think of what he can say to them; what he can write that maybe, just maybe, would lead them to see beyond themselves to Jesus.  He tries to be straightforward.  He tries to be the loving parent.  He even gets all scientific with this new image of the “body of Christ.”  And then in the very next chapter, he finally decides to tell it like it is.  And he writes these words:

Love never gives up.  Love cares more for others than for self. 
Love doesn't want what it doesn't have. 
Love doesn't strut, doesn't have a swelled head, doesn't force itself on others, 
Isn't always "me first," doesn't fly off the handle, doesn't keep score of the sins of others, Doesn't revel when others grovel, takes pleasure in the flowering of truth, 
Puts up with anything, trusts God always, always looks for the best, never looks back, 
But keeps going to the end.  Love never dies.

We don't yet see things clearly. We're squinting in a fog, peering through a mist. But it won't be long before the weather clears and the sun shines bright! We'll see it all then, see it all as clearly and completely as God sees us, knowing him just as he knows us!

But for right now, until that completeness, we have three things to do to lead us toward that consummation: Trust steadily in God, hope unswervingly, love extravagantly. And the best of the three is love.

So go after a life of love as if your life depended on it – because it does.

(from The Message translation)

Not once was Paul thinking about two people exchanging wedding vows when he penned this.  Not once did he imagine that thousands of years later his words would be enshrined and fallen in love with as the epitome of romantic expression.  No, Paul had something else entirely in mind.  He was thinking about a dangerous and radical love; a love that comforts the afflicted and afflicts the comforted.  A love that is so much more than just simple charity or being nice to someone; but a love that transcends our human frailties in a way that brings us together.

It is a love made for the body of Christ, in Paul's time and in our own.  A love which reminds those church leaders, like the ones we ordained and installed last week, like the one standing behind this pulpit, that no one has all the answers; for while one day we will see face to face, now all we see is in a mirror dimly.  A love which points us to something more than the letter of the law: the spirit behind it, so that polity and order do not become the source of our devotion, but tools that point us to that source.  A love which transforms the individual and the community so their lives are ruled not by the whims and ways of a broken world but by a God who calls us into God's shalom.  And a love which reminds us that the length of our hair, or the style of our dress, or the color of our skin or any of the other things we use to divide should never stand in the way of people and their God.

This love which Paul writes about here takes practice, takes intentionality, takes dedication.  It is more than just a feeling of the heart but an act of the will.  It is not about sentimentality and romance; it is about choice – a choice that leads us to action.  And this action is not like those of a certain televangelist north of us, whose response to the horrible Haitian earthquake this past week was to condemn an entire nation for their supposed “unfaithfulness.”  No, the action Paul calls us to is like the one you and I will have an opportunity to participate in before you leave today, as we take up a special offering to support Presbyterian Disaster Assistance's compassionate relief efforts for our brothers and sisters in Haiti.  That's the real Christian response.  That's us choosing to put love into action.

And that's the real beauty of what perhaps could be more accurately called the “Action Chapter,” don't you think – when the love it speaks of so eloquently comes alive in us?  A woman attended church one Sunday with a friend.  A young family with two children, a boy of 6 and a girl of 4, sat in front of them. The little girl was doing her best to sit still but wasn’t succeeding, despite the frequent reminders of her parents. Several worshipers sitting nearby were starting to get annoyed.

That was right around the time that the scripture reader began reading the passage for that Sunday: 1 Corinthians 13.  Love is patient..., the reader said, as the parents continued to gently gesture to their squirming daughter, Shhhhh. The mother picked the girl up off the floor and sat her down in the pew.

Love is kind ...  The girl slid off the pew again, took her brother’s face in her hands and gave him a kiss. He gave her a hug in return.
   

Love is not envious or boastful or arrogant or rude.... The father placed his hand on his daughter’s head and, again, asked her to stay still. She finally did, folding her legs and determinedly looking straight ahead.

Love does not rejoice in wrongdoing but rejoices in truth. It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things .... And now faith, hope, love abide, these three; and the greatest of these is love.....  The little girl reached for her father's hand, who patted it and then held it in his own.  And the lady behind them thought to herself, “That little girl might not have understood one word of that scripture, but she knew, already, what love was about.  Because it was shown to her.” (http://homileticsonline.com/subscriber/illustrations_for_installment.asp?installment_id=93040507, visited on 1.12.2010).

You see?  They really are more than words for a wedding.   And to quote Mary Glen quoting Paul, Go after a life of love as if you're life depended on it – because it does.  Thanks be to God.  AMEN.

TURNING CHEEKS AND SECOND MILES

Matthew 5: 38-48
Steve Lindsley
January 18, 2009

I've shared with you before one of the faith-formative experiences of my life; back when I was in sixth grade and involved in a local community theater. One of the other guys in the cast, named Mike, was a bit of a showoff and loved being the center of attention; and he would typically get that attention by choosing someone to harass and pick on non-stop. Four days before opening night, that individual happened to be me. I got sick and tired of it – to the point where, in the dim lights of the theater, a swing that was supposed to just miss and scare him wound up connecting hard on his left jaw, knocking him to the floor. Shocked by my actions, he rose, hand covering the left side of his face, and left.

Now in the world of pre-teenage boys, actions like this do not go unanswered, so I knew it was only a matter of time. Opening night came; and as fate would have it I was late getting there. Everyone else had left me alone in the dressing room – and then Mike came in. I instinctively clinched my fists in preparation for the inevitable. But instead, Mike told me that he was a Christian and that Jesus had taught people to turn the other cheek – which is exactly what he proceeded to do, offering me another shot at him. The story has not changed since I last told it – I did not take advantage of his offer. And that was the end of that.

I have no idea where the guy is today. But Mike's actions will forever remain a part of how I envision that passage from the fifth chapter of Matthew. Because every time I hear it, it is not Jesus I see offering the other cheek, but a twelve-year old kid in a theater dressing room.

Which is not necessarily a bad thing, really. Sometimes it's good to imagine scripture in different ways than we traditionally think – not changing the story, just changing the scenery. And the more I think about this Matthew passage, these words that Jesus spoke to the masses on the mountainside that day, the more I realize how important it is for us to do this.

Let me tell you what I mean. See if this sounds like a typical understanding of these verses. Jesus is about unconditional love and enduring suffering in his name; and he expects the same from us. So we should welcome the suffering when it comes. In fact, we should even go so far as to invite it. If we are hit on the right cheek, we offer our left. If someone asks for our coat, we give our cloak too. And if someone, other than a friend we exercise with, makes us walk a mile with them, we offer, before they ask, to go a second mile. We should rejoice, the thinking goes, in being martyrs; letting people walk all over us in Jesus' name.

Now that's how some Christians, I think, understand this passage. And yet it's terribly ironic, isn't it, because this is hardly the way most Christians around the world – especially in this country – actually live. I mean, you don't see a slew of Christ-followers walking around with bruised right and left cheeks they willingly invited upon themselves. Nor do many of us find ourselves worn out from excessive mile-walking from someone else's initiative. That sort of thing just doesn't happen in our me-first, self-reliant society.

You know, I'm no rocket scientist, but it seems that this means either one of two things. It could mean that we are just way off message – that the gospel does in fact call us to be “doormats-for-Jesus” and we're just doing doing what we should. The other possibility, of course, is that it's not our actions that are out of whack, but our interpretation. We're reading it the wrong way. And that's why it's helpful sometimes to have folks like Mike step into your life and get you thinking about things a little differently.

I mean, let's look at this again, shall we?  Bear with me, folks, I'm gonna get kind of technical. But has it ever seemed odd to you that Jesus would specify striking the right cheek? Why the detail – what difference does that make? It doesn't make much of a difference – unless the person doing the striking is right-handed. And with all apologies to the lefties out there – my wife and father included – this is probably a safe assumption to make, given that some 90% of the population are right-handed.

So how exactly does a right-handed person strike someone on their right cheek? Think about it – it can't be with an open fist, can it? You'd hit their left. No, it has to be a backhand. And you don't backhand someone if you're in a fight between two equals, do you? You backhand someone who is inferior to you – it's not about inflicting injury as much as it's about insult. It's as if to say, I'm the superior here, and you are less than me.

Now – think about that, and think about the audience Jesus is speaking to there on that mountainside: Jewish peasants at the mercy of the rule of an all-powerful Roman empire. Do you see what's going on? Jesus is not painting some hypothetical here. He's describing a scene those people undoubtedly saw over and over again every day in their midst: a Roman solider – a superior – striking a subordinate Jew.

Now Jesus knows – as every one of those Jews knows – that striking back is not an option. Not giving the Roman soldier your coat that he asked for is not an option.  Not carrying his pack for a mile is not an option. But you can't just stand there and take it, either. So what can you do? You do as Jesus says. You turn the other cheek, the left one. You see? This has the effect of disrupting the blow – they can't backhand you anymore; it won't work. And even if they do hit you, they're forced to change and make it an open fist – which means it's an equal hitting another equal. In an ironic sort of way, the superior elevates the status of the one they're hitting to their own level.

Man – that Jesus was a pretty crafty guy, wasn't he?   But the thing is, he wasn't just offering some self-defense tips. There's a much deeper message going on here. Turning cheeks and second miles is not about letting the powerful and influential have their way with you. But it's also not about fighting fire with fire. It's about finding that third way that does something amazing – resisting oppression without becoming like the oppressor.

Some have a name for this sort of thing: they call it nonviolent resistance. Jesus knew about it. In his teachings and preachings he boldly painted a picture of a world far different from the one he and everyone else lived in – a world where all people were valued; where the meek and hungry inherited the earth; where the power structures were turned on their heels and where love reigned supreme. This was just an idea, a goal, a dream he spoke of; and yet it absolutely terrified those who were in control. They understood the power of hope and promise in the hearts and minds of the people. And that is why they worked so hard to bring about an end to this man. It was Jesus' message of turning cheeks and second miles that led him straight to the cross.

Not too long ago, another man echoed this same message when he said this:

Somehow we must be able to stand up before our most bitter opponents and say: 'We shall match your capacity to inflict suffering by our capacity to endure suffering. We will meet your physical force with soul force. But be assured that we'll wear you down by our capacity to suffer, and one day we will win our freedom. And we will not only win freedom for ourselves, we will so appeal to your heart and conscience that we will win you in the process, and our victory will be a double victory.
(from The Words of Martin Luther King, Jr. - Selected by Coretta Scott King.  New York: Newmarket Press, 1983; pg. 72)

The man who said these words was Martin Luther King, Jr – one whose life and, more importantly, whose work for nonviolent resistance we honor tomorrow. In a time when our country had systems in place that denigrated another human being simply because of the color of their skin, King rightly dared to speak out and challenge the status quo. But he did it through words and marches and rallies, and never through force. And because of that, he lost his life.

Now I realize that in some ways, I'm preaching to the choir here. I know we all long for the day when, as the writer of Revelation says, death and crying and pain will be no more; as the prophet Isaiah writes, the wolf shall live with the lamb and the leopard shall lie down with the kid; and as Joel proclaims they shall beat their swords into plowshares and war will be no more. I know we all pray earnestly for the arrival a radically different world where we're not having to figure out who bombed who first or, more importantly, who will be the last to bomb.

But it's so hard, isn't it? It is so hard to find that third way, much less actually go about living it. Turning cheeks and second miles seems to be absent from our DNA. When we are struck, our immediate urge is to strike back. When someone tells us they want us to go another mile, we are tempted to tell them exactly where it is they can go. It is a vicious cycle that never ends.

And then every once in a while, something happens that stops that cycle cold in its tracks.  It happened back in May 2007 at, of all things, a Klu Klux Klan rally. In the midst of all that hatred, the kind that makes you sick to your stomach and causes you to want to respond in like kind, a group of people did something extraordinary. I don't know if you heard about what happened, but my friend David Lamotte did – at it inspired him to write a poem about it. And as I share it with you, I ask that you imagine the scene playing out in your mind. It's called White Flour:

The day was bright and sunny as most May days tend to be

In the hills of Appalachia down in Knoxville, Tennessee

The men put on their uniforms and quickly took their places

In white robes and those tall and pointed hoods that hid their faces
Their feet all fell in rhythm as they started their parade

They raised their fists into the air, they bellowed and they brayed

They loved to stir the people up, they loved when they were taunted

They didn’t mind the anger, that’s precisely what they wanted

As they came around the corner, sure enough, the people roared

They couldn’t quite believe their ears, it seemed to be – support?

Had Knoxville finally seen the light, were people coming ‘round?

The men thought for a moment that they’d found their kind of town
But then they turned their eyes to where the cheering had its source

As one their faces soured as they saw the mighty force

The crowd had painted faces, and some had tacky clothes

Their hair and hats outrageous, each had a red foam nose

The clowns had come in numbers to enjoy the grand parade

They danced and laughed that other clowns had come to town that day

And then the marchers shouted, and the clowns all strained to hear

Each one tuned in intently with a gloved hand to an ear
“White power!” screamed the marchers, and they raised their fisted hands

The clowns leaned in and listened like they couldn’t understand

Then one held up his finger and helped all the others see

The point of all this yelling, and they joined right in with glee

“White flour!” they all shouted and they felt inside their clothes

They pulled out bags and tore them and huge clouds of powder rose

They poured it on each other and they threw it in the air

It got all over baggy clothes and multi-colored hair
All but just a few of them were joining in the jokes

You could almost see the marchers turning red beneath white cloaks

They wanted to look scary, they wanted to look tough

One rushed right at the clowns in rage, and was hauled away in cuffs

But the others chanted louder marching on around the bend

The clowns all marched along with them supporting their new friends

“White power!” came the marchers’ cry ― they were not amused

The clowns grew still and thoughtful; perhaps they’d been confused?
They huddled and consulted, this bright and silly crowd

They listened quite intently, then one said “I’ve got it now!”

“White flowers!” screamed the happy clown and all the rest joined in

The air was filled with flowers, and they laughed and danced again

“Everyone loves flowers! And white’s a pretty sort!

I can’t think of a better cause for marchers to support!”

Green flower stems went flying like small arrows from bad archers

White petals covered everything, including the mad marchers
And then a very tall clown called the others to attention

He choked down all his chuckles, and said “Friends I have to mention

That what with all the mirth and fun it’s sort of hard to hear

But now I know the cause that these strange marchers hold so dear

“Tight showers!” the clown blurted out, and hit his head in wonder

He held up a camp shower and the others all got under

Or at least they tried to get beneath, they strained but couldn’t quite

There wasn’t room for all of them, they pushed, but it was tight
“White Power!” came their marchers’ cry, quite carefully pronounced

The clowns consulted once again, then a woman clown announced

“I’ve got it! I’m embarrassed that it took so long to see

But what these marchers march for is a cause quite dear to me!”

“Wife power!” she exclaimed and all the other clowns joined in

They shook their heads and laughed at how mistaken they had been

The women clowns were hoisted up on shoulders of the others

Some pulled on wedding dresses, “Here’s to wives and mothers!”
The men in robes were angry and they knew they’d been defeated

They yelled a few more times and then they finally retreated

And when they’d gone a black policeman turned to all the clowns

And offered them an escort to the center of the town

The day was bright and sunny as most May days tend to be

In the hills of Appalachia down in Knoxville, Tennessee

People joined the new parade, the crowd stretched out for miles

The clowns passed out more flowers and made everybody smile
And what would be the lesson of that shiny southern day?

Can we understand the message that the clowns sought to convey?

Seems that when you’re fighting hatred, hatred’s not the thing to use

So here’s to those who march on in their massive, silly shoes

(based on true events of May 26, 2007 - ©2007 David LaMotte)
http://lowerdryad.wordpress.com/white-flour-poem/

Don't you wish you could've been there to see that? Turning cheeks and second miles, changing this world of ours, changing us. Thanks be to Mike! Thanks be to King! Thanks be to Jesus! Thanks be to God. AMEN.

REVISITING REVELATION - NIKE MEETS FLUFFY

Revelation 5: 1-6, 11-13
Steve Lindsley
July 13, 2008                  

Last Sunday morning as I was making my “rounds” around the church visiting with folks as they arrived, I found one church member sitting in the chair across from Lynn’s desk with newspaper and scissors in hand. She was cutting out an article for me; Billy Graham’s column on, of all things, the topic: Does the book of Revelation have meaning today? Jane knew I was beginning a three-week sermon series on Revelation that Sunday and thought it might prove useful – which it did.

Probably not so surprisingly, Graham emphatically assures us that YES, Revelation still has great meaning in our day and world. He writes this: Admittedly, parts of it are hard to understand. And although Bible scholars may debate the details, the central truth of Revelation is clear: we can have hope because God is in control, and someday Christ’s victory over death will be complete.[i]

I mean, it was almost as if Rev. Graham knew what I was preaching on last Sunday! All that talk about a river whose waters run from the temple and trees that never cease bearing fruit. These are the kinds of things, Revelation tells us, that give us hope – hope that the world as we know is not the world that will always be; hope that people can change and that the powers-that-be in this world will not have the last word.

But the reality of things is that, while we do find all kinds of rivers and trees in the 22nd chapter, there are 21 other chapters we must contend with – and many of them talk about things that do not, at face value, appear to be all that hopeful. Even Billy Graham would have to agree with that. And you know, I find myself feeling a fair bit of sympathy for the guy who wrote all of this. John of Patmos, he’s called. Patmos was the island where he and a fair amount of fellow Christians were in hiding, seeking refuge and retreat. Just years before John penned his famous words, Roman soldiers had burned Jerusalem to the ground and either enslaved or exiled its people. John’s book was written to a beleaguered group of believers who had lost everything and had seemingly lost any sense of hope – all at the hand of the brutal Roman empire.

You know, it seems kind of strange, doesn’t it, to picture the Roman empire in such a negative light? Nearly 2000 years of history have served to whitewash things a bit, where most of what we see, if not all of it, is fairly positive. We think of ancient Rome and we think of major contributions to society in culture, art, literature. We think of the calendar we use and the first major road system, architecture and a modern form of government. We think of Rome and we overwhelmingly see a model for modernization and human ingenuity.

But progress, as sometimes is the case, does not come without a price; and there’s this darker side to Roman civilization that the early Christians knew all too well. It’s hard to see unless we take time, like we talked about last week, to pull back that curtain a bit; to “unveil” what was previously hidden from our view – which, of course, is what Revelation is all about. So when we pull back the curtain on Rome, this is what find: we find “Rome” referred to throughout the book as Babylon – a name that sent shivers down the spine of any early Christian who knew of their destruction of Jerusalem some 600 years before. The book also speaks of a terrifying “beast from the sea” that wreaks havoc on the earth – much like the Roman empire had been known to do the same. We’ve all heard about the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse – the white horse that conquered, the red one that made war, the black horse that unleashed famine, and the pale green horse of death. This was John’s way of describing the ghastly consequences of Roman rule for those who didn’t play by the rules – they were conquered, they were victims of unrelenting warfare, they suffered disease and famine, and they died.

Citizens of the Roman empire were either patrons of the system or victims of it; and there was no middle ground. While some enjoyed the benefits of a prosperous lifestyle, a huge class of impoverished lived just outside the beautiful architecture and buildings. The gap between rich and poor was wide and extremely hard to overcome. And not only that, but everything about the Roman empire focused on expansion of that empire and unquestioning loyalty to the emperor. One “had faith” in the emperor in the same kind of way you and I have faith in God – and those who did not share this were either persecuted or ostracized. To be part of the empire was to support a never-ending quest, on all fronts, to literally conquer the world.

In fact, this very word “conquer” comes into play big-time in Revelation, especially in our passage today. John paints this scene for us of a vision he has; a vision of God’s holy throne and a scroll that no one is worthy enough to open. John is upset by this – because this scroll, when opened, would cause God to leap into action and make all of the wrongs of the world right. So he laments that no one is “powerful” enough to do it. John is comforted, though, when he is told that “the Lion of the tribe of Judah, the Root of David, has conquered, so that he can open the scroll.” It’s a classic Jewish symbol of power – a Lion, and an offshoot of David, the great king of Israel lore. This, John is led to believe, is the one worthy enough to do what needs to be done.

Now before we go any further, let’s pull that curtain back a little shall we? Let’s pull it back on this word “conquer.” In the original language the word for “conquer” here is the Greek word Nike. N-I-K-E: which of course in our day and time is pronounced how…….? Nike was the Roman goddess of Victory, and it probably wouldn’t surprise us to learn that she was symbolized by a little swoosh emblem; the same that adorns everything from our sneakers to Tiger Wood’s golf shirt to just about anything where the motto “just do it” applies. In fact, “just do it” is a pretty good way to summarize what Nike meant to the Roman world. Nike wasn’t just celebrated, it was worshiped. It was the motivating force behind the empire’s rule and its conquest of the world. It embodied the very heart and soul of the ancient world’s greatest power.

So the image John is presented with here is a commanding one: a Lion, King David, Nike-like power – this is what will open the scroll, this is what will take on the Roman domination system and deal it a final death blow. And it makes all sense in the world, doesn’t it – power verses power, might verses might, two boxers in the ring and the strongest one comes out on top!

Except that is not what John gets. That is what he’s led to believe he’s gonna get, but it’s not what he gets – not at all. As John gazes around the throne to see this “power” that will prevail, he sees something there – but it is not Nike. What he sees is a lamb. A lamb, folks! And not just any run-of-the-mill lamb. The actual word in Greek suggests a very diminutive creature, the runt of the lamb litter. And I really like the way one writer describes it: he calls it Fluffy. Fluffy the runt lamb. Fluffy the lamb who, as we read on, is slain; slaughtered even.

So what we have here in Revelation 5, friends; what John of Patmos is encountering in this vision, can be summarized in a simple three-word phrase: Nike meets Fluffy. Nike meets Fluffy. The classic symbol of victory and conquest; verses a slaughtered, helpless, minuscule runt of a lamb. World power verses “lamb power.”

Now let’s just stop for a minute and soak this in, shall we? And let’s ask the obvious question here: what in the world do you think John made of this? I mean, here he is – all jazzed about God bursting into action to put an end to the suffering – and he is presented with cute little Fluffy. Better yet, what do you think those early Christians thought when they read John’s letter, holed up in their homes and wondering whether the next day would bring more of the same? People who were used to having Roman soldiers bursting in unannounced, uninvited? People who were denied access to the marketplace because they didn’t posses the Roman coins they needed? People who were ridiculed for who they believed in and who they did not believe in?

What do you think they made of Fluffy? Is that really who they imagined having in their corner? Did they not wonder how Fluffy could possibly stand a chance against Nike? How “lamb power” could ever persevere in the face of the world’s power? How the ways of nonviolence and grace and self-denial could ever make a difference in a world sold out to violence and heartlessness and selfishness?

I don’t know – it doesn’t sound like much of a fair fight to me. And it strikes me how these questions are not a whole different from the ones you and I have, you know? I mean, is this really the symbol of hope that we, Christians of the 21st century, pledge our allegiance to – Fluffy? Because if it is, my friends, we’ve got some explaining to do. How is Fluffy good enough when the world dishes out its “Nike-ness?” How does “lamb power” deal with a continent of people where tens of thousands die from AIDS and hunger each day – what good is Fluffy to them? How does “lamb power” help a middle-aged man fighting tooth-and-nail with his addiction – what good is Fluffy to him? And how does “lamb power” matter to someone held captive by their painful past, and the demons that continue to rage within – what good is Fluffy to them?

If there is one thing that Revelation 5 speaks to us – screams at us – it is this: the message of hope and renewal in our lives, and in our world, does not always come as we expect it. The message of hope and renewal in our lives, and in our world, does not always come as we expect it. And that is why it is so hard, so hard to really wrap our brains and our arms around it. We sing about Jesus as the “worthy lamb that was slain,” but we’ve also been known to sing about “onward Christian soldiers marching on to war,” too.

When people of faith – the Christian faith – adopt the language and the nuances of Nike power to encounter and act in the world, they lose a part of their collective soul and their calling as Christ-followers. There is a great difference between Nike and Fluffy, but it has nothing to do with who is more powerful. We do not serve Christ by being more powerful; we serve Christ by being more faithful. Let me say that again: we do not serve Christ by being more powerful; we serve Christ by being more faithful. God’s kingdom on earth is not revealed because we force anything on anyone – God’s kingdom on earth is revealed because we speak the truth in love. And this, my friends, is the foundational difference between Nike and Fluffy; between the world’s power and the power of the lamb:

• Nike tells us that “the one who dies with the most toys wins.” Fluffy tells us that our worth is determined not by what we own but by who we are.


• Nike tells us that strength and power and domination are what bind us together. Fluffy dares to tell us that we are bound together by sacrificial love.


• Nike tells us that a person’s identity is determined by their place in the world. Fluffy tells us that a person’s identity is determined simply by being a child of God.


• Nike suggests that “if you are not with us, you’re against us.” Fluffy has the courage and the faith to call into question who the “us” really is.


• And Nike, as we all know, tells us “just do it.” Just do it! Fluffy, though, calls us to put aside our wants and desires, and focus on fulfilling God’s mission in the world.

You know what I do when I want to see Nike verses Fluffy in modern form? I look at a picture that hangs on the wall in my office. I’ve show it to you before from this pulpit; and if you haven’t seen it I invite you to come by and take a look at it sometime. The picture was taken back on June 4th, 1989 near Tienanmen Square in Beijing, China. On that day Chinese troops entered the square and killed tens of thousands of students who were peacefully protesting against their government for basic human rights and freedoms.

The picture shows a row of Chinese tanks making their way to the square – you only see one or two, but there were a dozen or so in line that day. And yet they are unable to move, these tanks; because one man – one single man – stands in the way, defiant. If you were to watch the video on YouTube, you would see the lead tank move to the right to go around the man, and then you would see the man move to block it. There would be a few moments of uncertain pause. And then the tank would move back to the left, and the man would follow suit. And then, amazingly, you would watch this man climb on top of the tank – on top of the tank! – and bang on the hatch as if to reason with the soldier inside that this is not right, that they don’t have to do this, that there most certainly is a better way…..

That, my friends, is how Fluffy opens God’s scroll and unveils God’s kingdom on earth – lamb power at its diminutive finest! What would our world look like, indeed, if we truly followed the way of the lamb. Thanks be to God. AMEN.

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[i] “Does the book of Revelation have meaning today?” by Billy Graham. Mount Airy News, June 16, 2008.