Righting Wrong
Sermon
Sermons On The Second Readings
Series II, Cycle A
Object:
To Jim it seemed like an opportunity to right decades of wrongs.
As Jim learned more and more about the congregation he had joined, he began to discover it languished from a festering tumor lodged deep within it. The previous two pastors, over their fifty-plus-year tenure, had never made much headway trying to move people from merely being members of the big fancy downtown church to being disciples, to committing their lives and loyalty fully to mission and ministry. The last pastor had, in fact, resorted to begging for big gifts from wealthy members and even non-members to make it all work out by the year's end.
The last pastor retired, and the time of the great year-end bailouts had come to an end. The costs of maintaining the beauty of an old building and sustaining the excellence of its worship continued to rise. Fear gripped the hearts of members when three neighboring churches closed their doors, because it was overwhelmingly inconvenient for their members to drag their families for the half-hour trip downtown to participate in programs with children who were not their schoolmates or friends. "Our church might be next," said those with fearful hearts.
Jim saw hope in the new pastoral team who talked about discipleship and tithing and taking responsibility for the mission and ministry of the congregation. Jim saw hope that the church was changing and growing and becoming more than just a pretty place to stop by a couple times a year to hear a performance of the choir and brass commemorating the birth and resurrection of the Messiah.
The scales were weighted heavily, however, on the ninety-year tradition of poor giving. And for the first time, the congregation was almost certainly headed toward a substantial debt that would not be conveniently cleared up by the year's end. Jim believed it was time to make critical cuts in the budget. He believed there were enough people committed to the new view of the church to handle the staff cuts that the budget cuts demanded. As if by divine providence, he was offered a position on the budget-cutting team and became the team's number cruncher and PowerPoint® man. He was chosen to present their plan to the council.
Now, Jim did not agree with the entire plan, but knew that in politics he would have to accept some compromises. When the committee wanted to freeze all the staff salaries for the year, then Jim proposed a plan by which the freeze would be reviewed mid-year and by which the lost cost-of-living raise for the current year would be restored in the next year's budget. Jim was pleasantly surprised when the committee and even the council agreed.
During the month before the annual meeting, Jim grew aware that there were tremendous concerns about the balanced budget plan, but he believed the committee and the council would defend their decisions and that most of the congregation was firmly behind it. It's about time, he kept thinking to himself as he seated himself at the annual meeting, it's about time these people took responsibility, took up their crosses, started giving and living sacrificially according to biblical standards, not according to their selfish desires.
The president of the congregation had been out of town all week long and his only preparation for the meeting was a 45-minute conversation with one of the pastors just after he returned home at nine o'clock the night before. The president skipped the well-attended potluck and showed up just before the meeting was scheduled to begin and was very anxious to leave, because he had to be back home with his son since his wife was leaving town for a business trip of her own. The president disregarded the pastor's advice to consider and approve the reports from all twenty of the boards and committees all at once. Instead, the president marched the anxious group of 120 members of the congregation uncomfortably crammed in the church basement through a tedious process of reviewing each report individually. When the budget finally came to the floor, the congregation was fidgeting and murmuring, wondering why they had taken the back roads instead of the interstate to the only vote that mattered.
The president gave the floor to a spokesperson for the group representing the youth director whose position had been cut to balance the budget. The spokesperson made a heartfelt plea on behalf of the youth director, complete with biblical quotations. "If there is no youth program," he warned, "our church will die. Who will come all the way downtown unless we provide excellent programming to make the trip worthwhile? It's just wrong to even think about getting rid of him!" Then he announced the results of a pledge drive designed to save the youth director position: with the pledges, the budget would almost be balanced as long as they reduced the position of administrator to part-time.
A few people spoke so vehemently against this proposal that the group representing the youth director withdrew the proposal to reduce the administrator's position. But that left the budget $10,000 out of balance. A few people argued that almost all of the congregation's annual increase in giving could be taken up by the pledges. They demanded to know where the extra $10,000 was coming from.
The president looked at his watch. Someone called for the question. Instead of voting on calling for the question, the president called for a voice vote on the amendment to the budget. The amendment seemed to have the loudest voices behind it. Some disputed the president's ruling on the voice vote. Others objected that they didn't know what they had been voting about; so the president quickly called for a show of hands. A cursory count indicated that the youth director position was restored, and the budget that Jim had believed so fervently needed balancing was once again out of whack. Once again, thousands of dollars would be added to a debt for which there was no plan to pay back.
The president declared the matter settled, the meeting was adjourned, and he dashed out the door.
Jim was still seated in his chair after all the members had filed out of the room, gathering in little swirls of anxious or angry or giddy people. He felt drained, exhausted, like he had pneumonia. He hunched forward, clasped his hands, and hung his head, shaking it slowly. He felt he had been entirely repudiated, rejected, unheard. And that by a mob of unprincipled, irresponsible ruffians. He wanted nothing to do with any of them again.
Jim missed the phone call of one of the pastors who had heard Jim had given up on the congregation, perhaps even the whole idea of the church. In response to the pastor's call, Jim composed an eloquent condemnation of everything that happened at the meeting and declared he could have nothing to do with people who had so little regard for God's commands, so little regard for mission, for discipleship, for sacrificial giving, and for love for one another.
Reading the letter, I grieved as the apostle Paul grieved for his people in today's lesson. Jim was absolutely right about everything. His reasoning was flawless. I had no argument against it. His eloquent, articulate prose intensified my grief over losing Jim as a partner in the gospel. We needed him and all his wonderful gifts in our attempt to continue to make disciples and tithers out of a church dangerously happy with the status quo.
There's something similar to Jim's repudiation of his congregation that is similar to the repudiation of the gospel among some of Paul's brothers and sisters among the people of Israel. How is it possible, some of the religious leaders of the people of Israel argued, to achieve righteousness apart from doing the works prescribed by the law? How is it possible to associate with people who fall so far short of the law: lepers, prostitutes, tax collectors, Gentiles? How is it possible, Jim argued, to associate with people who seemed to have no interest at all in striving for righteousness in their living and giving?
It is possible.
It is possible, because Christ did not come for those who think of themselves as having achieved righteousness. Christ came for sinners, stumblers, strugglers, stragglers, deserters, betrayers, deniers, and crucifiers. None of us has achieved perfect righteousness. As Paul wrote earlier in his letter to the Romans: "all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God" (Romans 3:23). Or as the apostle Paul wrote just a few verses after today's lesson: "Gentiles, who did not strive for righteousness, have attained it, that is, righteousness through faith" (Romans 9:30).
So whenever one of those unprincipled, irresponsible ruffians comes to the table of the Lord with faith even the size of a mustard seed, they will be admitted to the table to eat and drink deeply of God's gracious forgiveness.
When Jeff returns to the table, the same will be true for him. Amen.
As Jim learned more and more about the congregation he had joined, he began to discover it languished from a festering tumor lodged deep within it. The previous two pastors, over their fifty-plus-year tenure, had never made much headway trying to move people from merely being members of the big fancy downtown church to being disciples, to committing their lives and loyalty fully to mission and ministry. The last pastor had, in fact, resorted to begging for big gifts from wealthy members and even non-members to make it all work out by the year's end.
The last pastor retired, and the time of the great year-end bailouts had come to an end. The costs of maintaining the beauty of an old building and sustaining the excellence of its worship continued to rise. Fear gripped the hearts of members when three neighboring churches closed their doors, because it was overwhelmingly inconvenient for their members to drag their families for the half-hour trip downtown to participate in programs with children who were not their schoolmates or friends. "Our church might be next," said those with fearful hearts.
Jim saw hope in the new pastoral team who talked about discipleship and tithing and taking responsibility for the mission and ministry of the congregation. Jim saw hope that the church was changing and growing and becoming more than just a pretty place to stop by a couple times a year to hear a performance of the choir and brass commemorating the birth and resurrection of the Messiah.
The scales were weighted heavily, however, on the ninety-year tradition of poor giving. And for the first time, the congregation was almost certainly headed toward a substantial debt that would not be conveniently cleared up by the year's end. Jim believed it was time to make critical cuts in the budget. He believed there were enough people committed to the new view of the church to handle the staff cuts that the budget cuts demanded. As if by divine providence, he was offered a position on the budget-cutting team and became the team's number cruncher and PowerPoint® man. He was chosen to present their plan to the council.
Now, Jim did not agree with the entire plan, but knew that in politics he would have to accept some compromises. When the committee wanted to freeze all the staff salaries for the year, then Jim proposed a plan by which the freeze would be reviewed mid-year and by which the lost cost-of-living raise for the current year would be restored in the next year's budget. Jim was pleasantly surprised when the committee and even the council agreed.
During the month before the annual meeting, Jim grew aware that there were tremendous concerns about the balanced budget plan, but he believed the committee and the council would defend their decisions and that most of the congregation was firmly behind it. It's about time, he kept thinking to himself as he seated himself at the annual meeting, it's about time these people took responsibility, took up their crosses, started giving and living sacrificially according to biblical standards, not according to their selfish desires.
The president of the congregation had been out of town all week long and his only preparation for the meeting was a 45-minute conversation with one of the pastors just after he returned home at nine o'clock the night before. The president skipped the well-attended potluck and showed up just before the meeting was scheduled to begin and was very anxious to leave, because he had to be back home with his son since his wife was leaving town for a business trip of her own. The president disregarded the pastor's advice to consider and approve the reports from all twenty of the boards and committees all at once. Instead, the president marched the anxious group of 120 members of the congregation uncomfortably crammed in the church basement through a tedious process of reviewing each report individually. When the budget finally came to the floor, the congregation was fidgeting and murmuring, wondering why they had taken the back roads instead of the interstate to the only vote that mattered.
The president gave the floor to a spokesperson for the group representing the youth director whose position had been cut to balance the budget. The spokesperson made a heartfelt plea on behalf of the youth director, complete with biblical quotations. "If there is no youth program," he warned, "our church will die. Who will come all the way downtown unless we provide excellent programming to make the trip worthwhile? It's just wrong to even think about getting rid of him!" Then he announced the results of a pledge drive designed to save the youth director position: with the pledges, the budget would almost be balanced as long as they reduced the position of administrator to part-time.
A few people spoke so vehemently against this proposal that the group representing the youth director withdrew the proposal to reduce the administrator's position. But that left the budget $10,000 out of balance. A few people argued that almost all of the congregation's annual increase in giving could be taken up by the pledges. They demanded to know where the extra $10,000 was coming from.
The president looked at his watch. Someone called for the question. Instead of voting on calling for the question, the president called for a voice vote on the amendment to the budget. The amendment seemed to have the loudest voices behind it. Some disputed the president's ruling on the voice vote. Others objected that they didn't know what they had been voting about; so the president quickly called for a show of hands. A cursory count indicated that the youth director position was restored, and the budget that Jim had believed so fervently needed balancing was once again out of whack. Once again, thousands of dollars would be added to a debt for which there was no plan to pay back.
The president declared the matter settled, the meeting was adjourned, and he dashed out the door.
Jim was still seated in his chair after all the members had filed out of the room, gathering in little swirls of anxious or angry or giddy people. He felt drained, exhausted, like he had pneumonia. He hunched forward, clasped his hands, and hung his head, shaking it slowly. He felt he had been entirely repudiated, rejected, unheard. And that by a mob of unprincipled, irresponsible ruffians. He wanted nothing to do with any of them again.
Jim missed the phone call of one of the pastors who had heard Jim had given up on the congregation, perhaps even the whole idea of the church. In response to the pastor's call, Jim composed an eloquent condemnation of everything that happened at the meeting and declared he could have nothing to do with people who had so little regard for God's commands, so little regard for mission, for discipleship, for sacrificial giving, and for love for one another.
Reading the letter, I grieved as the apostle Paul grieved for his people in today's lesson. Jim was absolutely right about everything. His reasoning was flawless. I had no argument against it. His eloquent, articulate prose intensified my grief over losing Jim as a partner in the gospel. We needed him and all his wonderful gifts in our attempt to continue to make disciples and tithers out of a church dangerously happy with the status quo.
There's something similar to Jim's repudiation of his congregation that is similar to the repudiation of the gospel among some of Paul's brothers and sisters among the people of Israel. How is it possible, some of the religious leaders of the people of Israel argued, to achieve righteousness apart from doing the works prescribed by the law? How is it possible to associate with people who fall so far short of the law: lepers, prostitutes, tax collectors, Gentiles? How is it possible, Jim argued, to associate with people who seemed to have no interest at all in striving for righteousness in their living and giving?
It is possible.
It is possible, because Christ did not come for those who think of themselves as having achieved righteousness. Christ came for sinners, stumblers, strugglers, stragglers, deserters, betrayers, deniers, and crucifiers. None of us has achieved perfect righteousness. As Paul wrote earlier in his letter to the Romans: "all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God" (Romans 3:23). Or as the apostle Paul wrote just a few verses after today's lesson: "Gentiles, who did not strive for righteousness, have attained it, that is, righteousness through faith" (Romans 9:30).
So whenever one of those unprincipled, irresponsible ruffians comes to the table of the Lord with faith even the size of a mustard seed, they will be admitted to the table to eat and drink deeply of God's gracious forgiveness.
When Jeff returns to the table, the same will be true for him. Amen.
