The Mayberry Preacher

IN THE WILDERNESS: A TRIUMPHANT ENTRY LEADS TO GETHSEMANE

Mark 11: 1-11; Mark 14: 32-42
Steve Lindsley
April 5, 2009

(NOTE: today's sermon is a joint venture between myself and the chancel choir, where the choir sings a song and a I follow with a short first-person sermonette.  I think it came out pretty cool.)

Lift yp your heads, ye mighty gates, ye everlasting doors
Fling open wide your hearts and greet the coming of the Lord
Who is the King of glory?  The Lord of hosts! 
He is the King of glory
All glory, laud and honor to Thee, Redeemer, King
To whom the lips of children made hosannas ring.
Thou art the King of Israel, Thou David's royal Son
Who in the Lord's name comes, the King and Holy One!
("The King of Glory" - Martin)

They have him on this colt and they're parading him through the streets of Jerusalem.  It's quite a sight.  They're laying their cloaks down in front of him; waving palm branches high in the air.  Some of them are shouting all kinds of things: Hosanna!  Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!  It's not that he needs the adoration or even wants it.  But I can tell – it means a lot to them.  It means a lot to our people who've had it hard for so long.  For once, we're finally getting a chance to celebrate.  For once, we can smile.

And yet as great as this is, I wonder – I wonder if they really understand what it is they're doing.  Because way on the other side of the city, there's another parade going on.  It's the parade that happens every year at this time, ever since the Romans took over.  See, this is the week of Passover, the most holy week of our Jewish faith.  Hundreds of thousands make the pilgrimage from all over Palestine to Jerusalem, to be at the temple, to sacrifice and worship God.  This city swells to twice its normal size, perhaps even more.  That's a lot of people – a lot of people that make the Romans nervous.  They have to hold on to their precious Pax Romana – Roman peace – by any means necessary.  Any means.

So a while back they started sending a not-so-subtle message on the first day of Passover – they staged a parade.  They hold it at the main city gates, on the other side of the city.  The Roman governor is welcomed in with all the pomp and circumstance, legions of Rome's military finest, trumpets blaring and purple and gold flags waving.    People come out by the thousands.  It's a lot of fun – the kids all point at things and “ooh” and “aah.”  But it's also dead serious, and everyone knows what's really going on.  No trouble during Passover – or else.

That's the parade that's happening right now on the other side of Jerusalem.  Which means this little thing we have going on here is not some innocent celebration.   Over there, they're claiming Caesar as their Lord.  Over there they are putting their trust and faith in Rome's military might and the false illusion that true power comes from how many troops you have, or how many cavalries process in, or how much clout you possess.  Over there, they are waving their palm branches and throwing down their cloaks for something else entirely.

But here, here we are claiming Jesus to be “Lord” - borrowing Rome's own imperial language, even!  Here we are putting our trust and faith in a man who was trained as a carpenter and has spent the better part of three years wandering the countryside in flip-flops and a worn cloak.  Here we recognize that true power comes from nothing of this world. 

They have him on a colt and they're riding him through Jerusalem.  And I don't think any of them have a clue how dangerous this is, or where it's all heading.  I guess we'll find that out soon enough.

Flowering trees shower petals and leaves
all around on the ground where He weeps on his knees
Flowering trees shed their leaves in the garden of ears
In the garden alone, Jesus prays for the courage to face the day
Though He has known from birth why He came to earth
the reality now is moments away
Just a heartbeat away, lay his friends sleeping on their innocence
Completely unaware of the burden he bears
All alone in the garden of tears
In the garden of tears, Jesus' sweat drops like blood,
as he pleads with the Father to take away the cup
Yet He knows Ye will drink His fill on Calvary's hill,
Do the Father's will
In the darkness, the soldiers appear, like a lamb he is led away
Flowering trees shed their leaves in the garden of tears.
("Garden of Tears" - Schram)

I don't want this, okay?  There, I said it.  I don't want any of this.  I'm tired, God.  I'm so tired.  I've been at this for – what – three years, now?  And where has it gotten me?  Here, in this garden, all by myself.  And I know they're coming – I can feel it.  I've felt it all week long, from the minute I sat on that colt and they paraded me through town and greeted me like a king.  I knew it would come to this, when the crowds would be gone and I'd be left only with my thoughts and fears.   And I don't want this any more.  You can have all of it back.

Why did I not follow in my father's footsteps – I mean, my other father?  I could be at home right now, sleeping peacefully in my own bed.  I could wake up later this morning and head to my shop for a full day's work.  Maybe I'd make a table for the family down the street, or a gate and fence for the herdsmen in town.  Man, what I'd give for the life of a carpenter right now!  I was pretty good at it, you know.  I could've had a family and kids, and watched them grow up as I grew old.  I could be anywhere other than here – all by myself.  Even my friends can't stay awake.  I don't want this!

You know, the thing is, maybe I'd be able to come to terms with this a little easier if I thought more folks actually got it.  But most people saw in me only what they wanted to see.  The Zealots saw the leader of their military revolution that would bring the Roman empire to its knees.  The Pharisees saw the source of all their law-abiding angst – an easy target.  The rich young man saw validation for a lifestyle he was not willing to part with.  Even my disciples, my closest friends, even they had their own agendas at play.

And that's why I lived for those moments when your brilliance shone through to me, when I knew beyond a shadow of doubt that you were right there in the thick of it all.  When Peter recognized me for who I was!  When the blind man was able to see!  When thousands of people on a mountainside went home with full stomachs!  When that little guy up in the tree had me over for dinner!  Those were the times I lived for, when I knew who I was and what I was here to do.

And now, I'm here in this garden.  And I'm going to be honest with you, okay? I'm going to shoot straight – if there's any way to sidestep this, to go a different route; if there's any way for me to exit stage left and kind of ride off into the sunset, I'll take it.  In a heartbeat.  You made me human, God, you made me to feel like this. I can't help but want it to end a different way.  I can't help but be scared.

But I know, Daddy, I know.  I know what happens to people who dare to show and tell the world just how much you love them.  I know.  So I'll go along with this, okay?  I'll go along with your plan.  Just don't leave me, alright?  You haven't left me yet.  All I'm asking is that you don't leave me now.  Especially now. 

Alas!  And did my Savior bleed, and did my Sovereign die!
Would He devote that sacred head for sinners such as I!
Was it for sins that I have done He suffered on the tree?
Amazing pity!  Grace unknown!  And love, love beyond degree!
Will might the sun in darkness hide, and shut its glories in
When Christ the Great Redeemer died for human creatures' sin
Christ died for our sin!
But drops of grief can ne'er repay the debt of love I owe
Here, Lord, I give myself away, tis all that I can do
Christ laid down His life for me, what love, what love beyond degree!
("Love Beyond Degree" - Johnson)

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.

PRISON BREAK

Acts 16: 16-40
Steve Lindsley
January 11, 2009

A few years ago FOX network debuted a new sitcom called Prison Break. I've actually never seen it – the last thing I need to do is get sucked into some new television show.  But I've heard it's pretty good and deals with issues beyond just some guys in prison – that it goes into human ethical dilemmas and stuff like that.

I saw a commercial for the show the other night, and for some reason it got me thinking: when was I first introduced to the whole concept of prison or jail?  When did I first become aware that there was a place society sent people who, for whatever reason, were deemed unworthy of being able to function normally in society?

My mind eventually took me back in time – I'm scared to tell you how far – but let's just say I was around preschool age.  Every summer my family and I used to spend a week or so at Grandmother's house – my mom's mom – in Asheville.  One of my favorite memories of these visits was Saturday night in downtown at “Shindig on the Green” - sort of a community festival with mountain music, food and  dancing.  They were lively occasions in the cool mountain summer air, and we had a blast.

But in the shadows of all of this I remember looking beyond the stage to a tall concrete building.  I remember thinking it was odd that, unlike all the other buildings in town, it had no windows.  There were just some sideways slats a few inches high.  And if I squinted hard enough I could see hands hanging out, perhaps clapping or holding a cigarette, and even a face looking through.  I remember at some point asking my Dad what it was, and he told me it was the city jail.  I got the whole scoop on the philosophy of penal institutions; and I remember that conversation left me with two distinct impressions: one, that I never, ever wanted to go there.  Two, if I did go there, there was no way I'd ever be able to get out. Because that's what they did – they kept you locked up.

Unless your name was Paul or Silas, and then you'd be in luck.  I mean, prison was nothing new for Christians in first century Palestine.  That's what the Roman empire did to the “rebel-rousers” - folks who dared to pledge allegiance to anyone other than the emperor, especially when it was to a carpenter from Nazareth.  If they got too passionate about the guy and started disturbing their precious peace, prison was the only place for them.

Prison was exactly where Paul and Silas found themselves – more on how they got there in a minute.  They were shackled like the rest, entombed behind those  thick stone walls, slated to be there for who knows how long.  And then suddenly, all of that changed when an earthquake caused the walls to tumble to the ground and the shackles around their hands and feet to fall away.  Wow!  What incredible luck!  Talk about a prison break – now they were free to go!

And yet, they didn't move.  They just sat there – much to the surprise and shock of the prison guard, whose heart sank as he watched all the other prisoners take off with glee.  The rest may have headed for the exits – but not Paul and Silas.  They didn't move a muscle.

It's an obvious question, so let's go ahead and ask it: why did Paul and Silas stay? What could possibly have kept them from running out like the rest?  I mean, could there have been any greater sign of God's approval of their work in ministry than this – walls falling down and shackles coming undone?  You're free to go!  I tell you – I would've been out the door in a heartbeat.  There's nothing that would've compelled me to stay.  Because, like most people, the last place I want to be is behind bars.

In fact, I was curious exactly how many people are behind those bars these days.  I did some research this past week and learned that worldwide, 8.75 million people are in some kind of penal institution – with half of those in Russia, China, and the United States.  In our country specifically, as of the end of 2007, almost 2.3 million people were behind bars.  We also have the highest prison per capita ratio in the world, at around 686 per 100,000 people (http://www.ojp.usdoj.gov/bjs/prisons.htm and http://www.homeoffice.gov.uk/rds/pdfs2/r188.pdf , visited on 1.4.2009).

Lots of people have different perspectives on the purpose of prisons.  Some see it as nothing more than a place to punish criminals and permanently remove them from society.  Still others view it as an opportunity for rehabilitation, where people can move on from their mistakes and become fully functioning members of society.  No matter what you think, though, there always seems to be the need for more of them, such as the prison that's being bantered back and forth right here in Surry County.

All of which brings up back to the question at hand: why did Paul and Silas stay in prison?  It doesn't make a whole lot of sense, does it?  It kind of makes me wonder if there's more to this story than simply some prisoners and a prison break.  Or, putting it more precisely, maybe it's about a different kind of prisoner and a different kind of prison break.  Maybe, just maybe, Paul and Silas aren't the real prisoners here. 

And I think we have to go back a few steps, back before the earthquake, back before the two of them even found themselves in jail, to what got them there in the first place.  Paul and Silas are out and about when they encounter a young slave girl who follows them around everywhere.  The notable thing about this kid is that she's possessed with a “spirit of divination” - some kind of demon is what some call it.  But in contrast to the kind of yucky things horror movies might plant in our heads, this demon-possessed girl has nothing but flattering things to say about Paul and Silas, calling them “slaves of the most high God.” Kind of interesting, isn't it; the irony of a slave girl referring to two totally free men as “slaves” themselves.

I guess there are worse things a demon-possessed girl could've called them.  But after a number of days, either her presence or her persistence apparently started to grate on Paul's nerves.  So in a final fit of frustration, Paul orders the demon to come out of the girl, which it promptly does. The young girl, once imprisoned to this demon, is now free!  How wonderful – a prison break of the spirit!

It's great, isn't it?  It is if you're the girl – but not so much if you're her masters.  Because apparently those who owned her had been making a good bit of money off her odd behavior.  And now, having been set free from that spirit, she was useless to them.  The irony of these men greeting her freedom with such disdain shouldn't go unnoticed to us.  And it's precisely that which causes her masters to send Paul and Silas straight to a real prison.

That girl wasn't the only one who encountered their own sort of prison break.  The same happened to the Roman guard at Paul and Silas' prison.  Even more irony – that a man in charge of guarding the prison doors is the real one imprisoned!  How else can you explain his rationale that the only possible response to the earthquake and all the prisoner's being released was to take his own life?  That is the sign of someone who is hopelessly lost in their captivity.  As a Roman soldier his ultimate authority lay at the feet of the emperor, who ruled with absolute power.  And the emperor's power came solely out of fear of what would happen to those who did not succumb to it.  When power is perverted like that, when it's used to force and get one's way – like masters over a slave girl or the emperor over a prison guard – when that happens , there is no such thing as freedom.  

How about that?  We start with this odd story of a prison break, and two disciples who chose not to follow the masses out of the hole in the prison wall.  We're amazed at their luck and dumbfounded.  We think it's a neat little story and then we move on.  But there's another way, a deeper way, a more meaningful way to see this story, isn't there?  It's a way that calls into question our understanding of so many things – not just what imprisonment is (and, by association, what freedom is), but who is really imprisoned.

Because the truth of the matter is that Paul and Silas were not the real prisoners of this story, are they?  The girl and the Roman guard were.  In their own way they were held captive by their own devices and the people who had authority over them.  And breaking free from that imprisonment – and helping others to do the same – is never easy. 

And yet that's the calling of us Christ-followers, isn't it?  As Christians we are called to set people free, because that's what Jesus did.  When a hated tax collector waited for him in the trees because nobody would make room for him, Jesus invited himself over to the guy's house for dinner.  When the woman was in the process of being executed, Jesus implored those without sin to cast the first stone.  When his closest confidant denied three times that he even knew him in his hour of greatest need, he later had lunch with him on the beach and told him how much he loved him.  And all of this – all of this took him straight to the cross.  Because that's what our world does with people who dare to set the imprisoned free.

And you know something?  It makes me wonder if maybe the reason Paul and Silas stayed put was to call you and me to a different way of living – helping to set people free from whatever it is that holds them captive.  People who are hurting silently; people who have no voice. People who are backed in a corner with nowhere to go; people who cannot fend for themselves.  Maybe, just maybe, the calling of  Christians is to engage in a totally different kind of prison break, where it's not rocks and chains that are busted open, but the human soul; God's image within each of us.

Reminds me of the district court judge who one day heard the case of a man caught stealing a loaf of bread.  When the judge got the whole story, though, he learned that the man had no job and his family was hungry. He had tried unsuccessfully to get work; and finally to feed his family, he resorted to something he neither wanted to do nor was proud of.

It would've been so easy for that judge to look at this as just one of hundreds of similar cases for the day.  But on that day, for whatever reason, the judge chose not to do that.  He first told the man, “I’m sorry, but the law can make no exceptions. You stole. Therefore I have to punish you. I order you to pay a fine.”  But he said, “However, I want to pay the fine myself.”  He reached into his pocket and pulled out the money and handed it to him.

He wasn't done.  As soon as the man took the money, the judge then told the court that he wanted to remit the fine, allowing the man to keep it.  “Furthermore,” he went on to say, “I am going to ask the bailiff to pass the hat around to everyone in this courtroom, and I’m fining everyone in this courtroom a dollar for living in a city where a man has to steal in order to have bread to eat.”  The money was collected and given to the defendant (http://homileticsonline.com/subscriber/illustrations_for_installment.asp?installment_id=93000332, visited on 1.4.2009).

Now don't get me wrong – I'm not suggesting we invade the judicial process and turn it on its heels.  I'm just thinking that Jesus came to set people free from those things in this world that bind us and keep us from becoming the children of God we were created to be.  Let's you and me free some human souls from their captivity, shall we?  Let's join him in the prison break.  Thanks be to God.  AMEN.

DO NOT FEAR!

(Note to readers: We had a guest preacher this past Sunday, so I don't have a "new" sermon to post.  However, I thought it would be appropriate to post an older sermon of mine; one I preached prior to starting this blog.  I wrote this sermon during the combative primary election season of the spring/summer.  As we enter the final month of the presidential campaign and are once again forced to endure "fear-mongering" by political campaigns, I felt this message was once again appropriate.

I make reference in the sermon to a number of faxes the church received that used fear tactics to malign one particular candidate.  It's not in the text, but I actually received one of these faxes the very morning I was to deliver the sermon.  I took it with me into the pulpit and, after making my point, tore it up in front of the congregation!  They weren't expecting this, and to be honest neither was I.  One of those "spontaneous" things. Spirit-driven, perhaps?

Whatever the case, take the sermon for what it's worth in our presidential election/crumbling economy situation.)

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Isaiah 43: 1-4; John 14: 1-6, 25-27
Steve Lindsley
May 4, 2008

What are you afraid of?  That question was posed to a group of football players in the 2000 movie The Replacements.  The real players had gone on strike, and teams were stocked with second-rate players who just the week before were working in grocery stores or factories or – in one case – in prison.  The head coach, played by Gene Hackman, was faced with the daunting task of uniting a motley group of misfits into a cohesive team in a matter of weeks.

What are you afraid of?  He asked the question at a team meeting, hoping it would stir players to dig deep into their personal and collective psyches, to the heart of what was ailing this rag-tag group of wannabees.  He asked the question in hopes that, through admitting their deepest fears, they could conquer them, get beyond them, and realize their full potential as a football team

A 300-plus pound, former sumo wrestler offensive lineman named Franklin was the first to speak up: Spiders, he said, I’m scared to death of spiders.  Another player nodded his head, and a third chimed in: Yeah, spiders creep me out too, man!  Hackman shook his head in disgust: No, no, I’m talking about on the football field. What are you afraid of on the football field?  Franklin, with a quizzical look, offered, Spiders on the football field? 

And when it seemed as if this little pep talk was ending before it begun, Falco the quarterback raised his hand.  I’m afraid of quicksand, he said, but not the way you think.  See, you’re playing football.  You think everything is going fine... but then one thing goes wrong... and then another... and another.  And you try to fight back, but the harder you fight, the deeper you sink.  Until you can't move, you can't breathe, because you're in over your head.  He shrugged and said, Like quicksand.

The head coach smiled, and the conversation took off from there – and one by one the players shared how they were deathly afraid of messing up this second chance at a career in professional football, one they’d only dreamed of.  A successful team meeting, as they went on to win some football games.

Well, listen – I’m not all that afraid of spiders; and I’d probably be afraid of quicksand if I ever got in some, but there are other things I’m afraid of.  I’m afraid of stepping into this pulpit on Sunday morning without a sermon – I have nightmares about that one every so often.  I’m afraid of not being the best parent or spouse I can be.  I’m afraid of rising gas prices and lost jobs and food shortages and how these things make it even harder for those living on the financial edge.  I’m afraid of how much longer we’ll continue to lose fine young women and men, like our own Adam Marion, in Iraq. 
We all are afraid of something, and it starts early.  A few months ago I was stirred to consciousness late one night by our eldest, who in a hushed but slightly panicked voice informed me that there were, in fact, monsters in his closet.  In my sleep-deprived state I offered the typical parental response: there were no such things as monsters and he could go back to bed rest assured.  This did not do a whole lot to convince him.  So together we stumbled down the hall to his room, turned the light on and inspected the closet ourselves.  No monsters – so we pronounced an “all clear” and returned to our respective beds, and eventually sleep.

As we grow into adulthood our fears change to other monsters in the closet. And rarely do we talk openly about those fears of ours, perhaps because we don’t want anyone to get concerned or worried – especially ourselves.  In our country’s recent history, 9-11 is perhaps the most prominent instance where we, as a collective group, came face to face with our greatest fear.  When those towers fell, it shattered our innocence and opened our eyes to see the hate and violence and anger that most of the rest of the world had seen long before us.  Nowadays our fears are many: recession, terrorism, insecurity, apathy, just to name a very few.  And so we go running into God’s room in the middle of the night to tell God about the monsters in our closet.  Kind of funny, isn’t it – not much has changed.

You know, I would venture to guess that Jesus sensed that his disciples were at that same sort of place.  It shouldn’t surprise us, really.  It was the night before Jesus was crucified; and although they didn’t know that’s where things were heading, they sensed something was up.  There was just a different “feel” in the air that evening.  What began as an innocent meal among friends quickly turned into chaos and uncertainty.  When Jesus washed his disciples’ feet, as John tells it – well, that’s when they really started to wonder.  And when they saw Judas leave them and later learned why, it was all too much.  Something bad was about to happen and their time together as rabbi and followers was quickly coming to an end.

So in his rather long speech to his disciples – it goes on for three whole chapters – Jesus offers these words:   

Do not let your hearts be troubled.  Believe in God, believe also in me. In my Father’s house there are many dwelling places.  If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you?  And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself – so that where I am, there you may be also.

Now I like these words of Jesus.  You may have heard them read at a funeral perhaps; a time when the fear of death can get a grip on us.   Jesus, though, wants to tell us something quite different: that death does not have the last word, and that fear of any kind never can separate us from the ones we love or from God.  Because it’s not the “where” of this place that Jesus prepares that really matters – it’s more of the “who.”  Do not let your hearts be troubled is God speaking directly to our hearts, for any occasion, for any fear that life can throw at us.

But here’s the thing – it is not about God getting rid of the fear – that’s not what Jesus is talking about here and that’s not what this sermon is about.  See, I don’t think Jesus ever envisioned a life on earth where you and I are free from pain and hardship and things to be fearful about.  Lord knows Jesus knew all about life’s difficulties in his 33 years!  The truth of the gospel is that Jesus never promised us a pain-free existence.  God never said that he would take all our fears and make them disappear.  God simply said that he would make a place for us where we can bring those fears to him and be comforted.

Some believe – and I would tend to agree – that this “place” he speaks of is right here – in the community of faith.  For it is in the presence of fellow brothers and sisters in Christ that you and I can confide our fears, share them with one another, renewed for service in and through them.  And I have to think that’s precisely what Jesus was trying to say to his disciples that night; his very last night with them: saying, I’m sending someone to take care of you, called the Holy Spirit.  But don’t ever forget that I want you to take care of one another. 

And let me tell you, that’s a very good thing, my friends.  It’s a very good thing that we have each other.  Because the fact of the matter is that you and I don’t just live in a world of fear; you and I live in a culture that is unashamedly obsessed with fear.  Fear-mongering, it’s sometimes called – when fear is used to coerce people into doing what you want them to do.  Promising them the worst, so they can give you their best.

Where is this in our world today?  Where is it not! I think of factions of the church that twist the words of the Bible, like the book of Revelation, to “scare” people to Jesus.  I think of the horrible stigma placed on people who are different from us, just because of what they believe or what they wear on their heads or what their lifestyle is or what disease may be flowing through their veins. And especially in this season of election, I think of three faxes our church and other churches have received over the past month – faxes with no names or contact numbers – suggesting that a vote for a particular candidate in this year’s presidential election is a vote for an “apostate”, is a vote against the will of God, and is a vote that would lead to the complete deterioration of the Christian church and American society.

What is going on??   I mean, these sorts of things have always been with us, but they seem to have crystallized and taken on a sense of urgency in our post 9-11 world.  In his book The Scandalous Gospel of Jesus, Harvard religion professor Peter Gomes had this to say:

Perhaps the greatest tragedy of September 11th, 2001…..is not the loss of the human lives or the buildings, tragic as those losses were and painful as they are to recall.  The greatest tragedy may be that we have since been programmed to live by our fears and not by our hopes.  Once we were a people defined by our compassions; today we are more and more a people defined by our fears.  And to be defined by our fears is to accept the lowest possible level of emotional intelligence. [from The Scandalous Gospel of Jesus by Peter Gomes (New York: HarperOne, 2007), 104, 106]

This twisting and abuse of fear is not just tragic and wrong.  It is unbiblical.  Hundreds of years before Jesus promised his anxious disciples a dwelling place, God’s people were devastated by the destruction of Jerusalem and the holy temple, carted off to live in Babylonian exile.  It was an unrivaled emotional and spiritual obliteration, and many of them felt as if God had hung them out to dry.

It would’ve been so easy for the people to succumb to their fears and respond in like kind.  It would’ve been easy for those in power to use their circumstances to sway God’s chosen for their own purposes.  And yet, to this horrible situation the prophet Isaiah delivered God’s radical and unwavering message: DO NOT FEAR.  Why?  Because God goes with you into the unknown, into the devastation.  Why?  Because God is God; and God is your God.  Why?  Because more than anything else, more than anything else in the world, God loves you.  God loves you and will never leave you.  So Do Not Fear.

Fifty-eight times in the Bible, God says these three words, loud and clear.  Fifty-eight times, God implores the faithful not to be misguided by their fear, not to have their life dictated by what Gomes eloquently calls the “absence of courage” and the “poverty of imagination.”  Fifty-eight times, God proposes a radical alternative – to replace fear with hope, hate with love, prejudice with acceptance, indifference with compassion, judgment with forgiveness.  This is what God said to his people thousands of years ago; and this is what God still says to us today.

I’ll be honest with you – I’m tired of all of this.  We all are tired of it! We are tired of fear ruling our lives and our world.  We are tired of people using fear to get their way with us for their own gain.  We are tired of the faithful, time and time again, succumbing to fear when the very foundation of our beliefs calls us to something else entirely.

So let us do something else entirely, shall we?  Let us re-imagine and remake our lives so that fear is replaced with hope and compassion. Let us live into the beauty and promise of a world that is guided by its possibilities instead of its pitfalls.  Let us embody a church that stands against the power of fear, and for the hope of the gospel of Jesus Christ.  And most of all, let us not allow those in our world to tell us what their fear can do to us; let us tell them – and show them – what God’s love can do for everyone.

Because maybe, just maybe, those ol’ monsters in the closet won’t seem as bad as we sometimes make them out to be, you know? 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.