What's Expected From Us?
Sermon
Don't Forget This!
Second Lesson Sermons For Sundays After Pentecost (Last Third) Cycle C
Daniel -- my youngest until June -- has been eyeing a football in my study. Ben -- my oldest who swore I would have my last child before my first grandchild -- gave the football to me after last year's Liberty Bowl (December 31, 1997). It's a ceremonial treasure sporting the signatures of Ben's teammates at Pitt.
Late one night as I tucked in my little Panther, Daniel said, "Daddy, if you retire, don't forget to get the football for me." I nodded. He continued, "Daddy, if God fires you, don't forget to get the football for me." I nodded. Then he said, "If you die, Daddy, make sure somebody gets the football for me."
Certainly, Daniel has clear and concise expectations for me.
And the church has clear and concise expectations for its members.
Or as Paul reminded Timothy of our Lord's expectations for his people: "Continue in what you have learned and firmly believed ... Carry out your ministry fully" (see 2 Timothy 3:14--4:5).
I've come to think of them as the pillars and priorities of the church.
Christocentrically focused and biblically-based churches recognize the church's pillars or essential tenets as the sovereignty of God, the centrality of Jesus to God's plan of salvation, the authority of the Bible, the priesthood of all believers, and the continuing presence of God in the world through the Holy Spirit.
The church's priorities or essential activities are worship, service, and evangelism.
Of course, there's always somebody adding to the list. They're the kind of folks who like to make what's easy and inclusive into something barely comprehensible and exclusive.
But when you closely check the example of Jesus and the explanation of discipleship in the New Testament, the terms of continuing membership in the Kingdom are surprisingly clear and a lot more concise than even the previously outlined pillars and priorities.
Simply, believe in Jesus as saving sovereign and act like you believe in him.
I can't imagine our Lord denominationally carding anyone at the pearly gates or demanding a full recitation of The Heidelberg Catechism or making a list and checking it twice to find out who has been naughty or nice.
Actually, I'm convinced there are only two questions with existential and eternal consequences: 1) Do you love the Lord? 2) Are you trying to love people?
Or as Jesus said, "Love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind ... Love your neighbor as yourself" (see Matthew 22:34-40).
Or as we say just before the benediction every Sunday at Center, "Love God and be kind to one another."
That's enough for most people. Because if we get that right, the rest should fall into place sooner or later. That's not too much to expect.
Nevertheless, the gracious love of our Lord cannot be understood as license for ecclesiastical or individual navelgazing.
God's people act on what they believe. Belief is confirmed by behavior. Essential tenets and essential activities are inextricably woven together into the same fabric of faith.
Or as Dr. Macleod taught seminarians back at Princeton, "God acts for our salvation and we respond through worship, work, and witness."
Again, as Paul wrote, "Continue in what you have learned and firmly believed... Carry out your ministry fully."
It's like the end of a baseball game. The manager strolls out to the mound, tosses the ball to his ace reliever, and says, "Here! Pitch!"
And as history races into the late innings, our Lord turns to his church and says, "Here! Pitch!"
I've always liked how Ann Weems expressed the church's belief and behavior in Reaching for Rainbows (1980):
I celebrate the church of Jesus Christ,
where two or three or thousands can gather together
in the Lord's name
and touch this world
with the amazing good news that somebody cares,
that God joins us in community so that someday
this world will be loved to wholeness...
I celebrate the church,
where every child of God is hailed as unique and valuable,
where arms are opened to the world's outcasts,
where the tired, beaten, disillusioned world is invited in
and surprised
by the life-giving word
that Christ accepts the children,
all the children of the world.
I can't help but think of Dick Sheppard and St. Martin-In-The-Fields Church on Trafalgar Square in London, England.
Dick Sheppard was born into the church on September 2, 1880, in Windsor, England. He was the younger son of Edgar Sheppard who served as the resident canon to the Queen of Windsor. He went to Marlborough College and studied at Cambridge.
But then he threw the whole thing out and went to work in the slums of London. During this time, he struggled with the question of whether the institutional church was the best vehicle for helping the downtrodden of the world.
Finally, he decided it was God's call for him to work within the structure of the Church of England. He finished his preparation for the parish ministry. At the age of 34 he was called to the most prestigious church in London -- St. Martin-In-The-Fields on Trafalgar Square in 1914.
During his first sermon on St. Martin's, he preached about his dream for the church:
I stood on the west steps, and saw what this church would be to the life of the people. There passed me, into its warm inside, hundreds and hundreds of all sorts of people, going up to the temple of their Lord, with all their difficulties, trials and sorrows. I saw it full of people dropping in at all hours of the day and night. It was never dark, it was lighted all night and all day, and often tired bits of humanity swept in. And I said to them as they passed, "Where are you going?" And they said only one thing: "This is our home. This is where we are going to hear the love of Jesus Christ." It was all reverent and full of love and they never pushed me behind a pillar because I was poor.
Day after day and night after night, Dick Sheppard prayed and worked to make the dream come true. It wasn't easy. He hurried about the poor houses with the gospel message of comfort, hope, and eternal life. He became frustrated by the image of a church caring more for institutional security and survival than the needs of people. He said "that the church often failed because it loved the souls of people but not people themselves." He fought the pack of bishops and said the only thing that separated people from Jesus was the English Church. He upset the well-heeled of the church because when they came to occupy their familiar pews, they found them filled with prostitutes, drunks, cons, and all kinds of n'er-do-wells. The whole idea of reserved pews became a thing of the past. Parts of the church were turned into overnight lodging for people with nowhere else to go. Every person living near St. Martin's was contacted just to let them know St. Martin's loved them. Sheppard personally called in the prostitutes to let them know there were some men who could love them not for what they could do for pleasure but because they were real and special and valued. Laughter was heard in the halls of the church. Joy radiated from faces. Biographer Richard Ellis Roberts wrote in 1942:
St. Martin's became the church of the soldiers and the down-and-outs; the church of the classes and masses; the church of fellowship and of privacy; the church for the cheerful and the church for the desperate; the church for the healthy and the sick: of the young and the old. It was the church in which the congregation was no more shocked at hearing the minister pray for the street-walkers than pray for school teachers, for crooks than for the clergy, for blackguards than for bishops; no more shocked than when the vicar laughed and told a funny story in the pulpit. It became a refuge for the unhappy, and the home of the homeless. In short, it was a Christian Church.
But during his whole ministry at St. Martin's, Sheppard was plagued by ill health. Not only was he plagued by people who longed for the way things never were and did not share his dream of an open and inviting and inclusive and servant and unconditionally loving church, he was also an asthmatic who cried every day, "Give me this day my daily breath."
Only a few weeks before his death, his wife left him. He begged her to come back but she wouldn't. He died the next day.
Before he died, Dick Sheppard would have to be carried into the pulpit through overflowing crowds that sat even at the chancel steps.
And on the day that Dick Sheppard died at the tender age of 57, he got up at four in the morning to take a pair of soft warm gloves to a man whose hands had been burned at work; and in those days before labor unions, it meant a man had to report to work or lose his job. He preached three times. He remembered to send a bouquet of flowers to a friend on his birthday. And after the evening service, he called on a dying man. The next day, over 100,000 people -- poor and prosperous and princes and prostitutes -- waited for his casket.
And yet as he died, Dick Sheppard felt there was much more to be done. He felt there was more to do in including all of God's children in the church. He believed loving Jesus is not enough. He believed behaving like you believe in Jesus is essential. He believed loving Jesus is no excuse for complacency or contentment or clubbiness or self-righteousness. He believed loving Jesus is about loving others to prove love for Jesus. He believed loving Jesus is about loving everybody -- including yourself -- because God in Jesus loves the world.
What's expected from us? Love God! Prove that love by loving others! Love God and be kind to one another! That's what's expected from us. It's very simple. It's as simple, clear, and concise as Daniel's expectations.
Speaking of children, Stan Bell (our Youth Minister) sent me some letters to God from children:
Dear God,
Who draws the lines around the countries? -- Nan
Dear God,
If we come back as something, please don't let me be Jennifer Horton because I hate her.
-- Denise
Dear God,
Thank you for the baby brother, but I really wanted a puppy.
-- Joyce
Dear God,
Why is Sunday school on Sunday? I thought it was supposed to be our day of rest.
-- Tom
Dear God,
My brother is a rat. You should give him a tail.
-- Danny
Dear God,
I bet it is very hard for You to love all of everybody in the whole world. There are only 4 people in our family and I can never do it.
-- Chris
Dear God,
I do not think anybody could be a better God. Well, I just want You to know but I am not just saying that because You are God already.
-- Charles
Yes, he is God already. And he as God -- a very big and persuasive reality -- expects us to love him, each other, and others.
Marking the end of four years at Center, I've gone through the obligatory ecclesiastical evaluations over the past few months.
I was asked what I like most about Center. I answered, "I love the people, and I think they love me."
Then I was asked what I like least about Center. I answered, "I love the people, and I think they love me."
When asked why the most liked and least liked are the same, I explained:
It's the most exhilarating and exhausting experience in my life. It's like family. When good things are happening in the lives of family members -- baptisms and weddings and graduations and promotions and successes and accomplishments and other good things -- I feel great! But when less than good things are happening -- sickness and sufferings and failures and divorces and deaths and hurts and bruises and all the rest -- I feel with them. So I guess being pastor of Center is kind of like living on the mountaintop and in the valley at the same time. That's what being church is all about. That's what's expected when you're a part of the family.
Let me put it another way.
God only expects from us what he has given to us -- the enfleshment of the best four letter word in the dictionary.
Specifically, Jesus said, "Love each other just as much as I love you" (John 13:34).
All existential and eternal blessings considered, that's not too much to expect.
Late one night as I tucked in my little Panther, Daniel said, "Daddy, if you retire, don't forget to get the football for me." I nodded. He continued, "Daddy, if God fires you, don't forget to get the football for me." I nodded. Then he said, "If you die, Daddy, make sure somebody gets the football for me."
Certainly, Daniel has clear and concise expectations for me.
And the church has clear and concise expectations for its members.
Or as Paul reminded Timothy of our Lord's expectations for his people: "Continue in what you have learned and firmly believed ... Carry out your ministry fully" (see 2 Timothy 3:14--4:5).
I've come to think of them as the pillars and priorities of the church.
Christocentrically focused and biblically-based churches recognize the church's pillars or essential tenets as the sovereignty of God, the centrality of Jesus to God's plan of salvation, the authority of the Bible, the priesthood of all believers, and the continuing presence of God in the world through the Holy Spirit.
The church's priorities or essential activities are worship, service, and evangelism.
Of course, there's always somebody adding to the list. They're the kind of folks who like to make what's easy and inclusive into something barely comprehensible and exclusive.
But when you closely check the example of Jesus and the explanation of discipleship in the New Testament, the terms of continuing membership in the Kingdom are surprisingly clear and a lot more concise than even the previously outlined pillars and priorities.
Simply, believe in Jesus as saving sovereign and act like you believe in him.
I can't imagine our Lord denominationally carding anyone at the pearly gates or demanding a full recitation of The Heidelberg Catechism or making a list and checking it twice to find out who has been naughty or nice.
Actually, I'm convinced there are only two questions with existential and eternal consequences: 1) Do you love the Lord? 2) Are you trying to love people?
Or as Jesus said, "Love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind ... Love your neighbor as yourself" (see Matthew 22:34-40).
Or as we say just before the benediction every Sunday at Center, "Love God and be kind to one another."
That's enough for most people. Because if we get that right, the rest should fall into place sooner or later. That's not too much to expect.
Nevertheless, the gracious love of our Lord cannot be understood as license for ecclesiastical or individual navelgazing.
God's people act on what they believe. Belief is confirmed by behavior. Essential tenets and essential activities are inextricably woven together into the same fabric of faith.
Or as Dr. Macleod taught seminarians back at Princeton, "God acts for our salvation and we respond through worship, work, and witness."
Again, as Paul wrote, "Continue in what you have learned and firmly believed... Carry out your ministry fully."
It's like the end of a baseball game. The manager strolls out to the mound, tosses the ball to his ace reliever, and says, "Here! Pitch!"
And as history races into the late innings, our Lord turns to his church and says, "Here! Pitch!"
I've always liked how Ann Weems expressed the church's belief and behavior in Reaching for Rainbows (1980):
I celebrate the church of Jesus Christ,
where two or three or thousands can gather together
in the Lord's name
and touch this world
with the amazing good news that somebody cares,
that God joins us in community so that someday
this world will be loved to wholeness...
I celebrate the church,
where every child of God is hailed as unique and valuable,
where arms are opened to the world's outcasts,
where the tired, beaten, disillusioned world is invited in
and surprised
by the life-giving word
that Christ accepts the children,
all the children of the world.
I can't help but think of Dick Sheppard and St. Martin-In-The-Fields Church on Trafalgar Square in London, England.
Dick Sheppard was born into the church on September 2, 1880, in Windsor, England. He was the younger son of Edgar Sheppard who served as the resident canon to the Queen of Windsor. He went to Marlborough College and studied at Cambridge.
But then he threw the whole thing out and went to work in the slums of London. During this time, he struggled with the question of whether the institutional church was the best vehicle for helping the downtrodden of the world.
Finally, he decided it was God's call for him to work within the structure of the Church of England. He finished his preparation for the parish ministry. At the age of 34 he was called to the most prestigious church in London -- St. Martin-In-The-Fields on Trafalgar Square in 1914.
During his first sermon on St. Martin's, he preached about his dream for the church:
I stood on the west steps, and saw what this church would be to the life of the people. There passed me, into its warm inside, hundreds and hundreds of all sorts of people, going up to the temple of their Lord, with all their difficulties, trials and sorrows. I saw it full of people dropping in at all hours of the day and night. It was never dark, it was lighted all night and all day, and often tired bits of humanity swept in. And I said to them as they passed, "Where are you going?" And they said only one thing: "This is our home. This is where we are going to hear the love of Jesus Christ." It was all reverent and full of love and they never pushed me behind a pillar because I was poor.
Day after day and night after night, Dick Sheppard prayed and worked to make the dream come true. It wasn't easy. He hurried about the poor houses with the gospel message of comfort, hope, and eternal life. He became frustrated by the image of a church caring more for institutional security and survival than the needs of people. He said "that the church often failed because it loved the souls of people but not people themselves." He fought the pack of bishops and said the only thing that separated people from Jesus was the English Church. He upset the well-heeled of the church because when they came to occupy their familiar pews, they found them filled with prostitutes, drunks, cons, and all kinds of n'er-do-wells. The whole idea of reserved pews became a thing of the past. Parts of the church were turned into overnight lodging for people with nowhere else to go. Every person living near St. Martin's was contacted just to let them know St. Martin's loved them. Sheppard personally called in the prostitutes to let them know there were some men who could love them not for what they could do for pleasure but because they were real and special and valued. Laughter was heard in the halls of the church. Joy radiated from faces. Biographer Richard Ellis Roberts wrote in 1942:
St. Martin's became the church of the soldiers and the down-and-outs; the church of the classes and masses; the church of fellowship and of privacy; the church for the cheerful and the church for the desperate; the church for the healthy and the sick: of the young and the old. It was the church in which the congregation was no more shocked at hearing the minister pray for the street-walkers than pray for school teachers, for crooks than for the clergy, for blackguards than for bishops; no more shocked than when the vicar laughed and told a funny story in the pulpit. It became a refuge for the unhappy, and the home of the homeless. In short, it was a Christian Church.
But during his whole ministry at St. Martin's, Sheppard was plagued by ill health. Not only was he plagued by people who longed for the way things never were and did not share his dream of an open and inviting and inclusive and servant and unconditionally loving church, he was also an asthmatic who cried every day, "Give me this day my daily breath."
Only a few weeks before his death, his wife left him. He begged her to come back but she wouldn't. He died the next day.
Before he died, Dick Sheppard would have to be carried into the pulpit through overflowing crowds that sat even at the chancel steps.
And on the day that Dick Sheppard died at the tender age of 57, he got up at four in the morning to take a pair of soft warm gloves to a man whose hands had been burned at work; and in those days before labor unions, it meant a man had to report to work or lose his job. He preached three times. He remembered to send a bouquet of flowers to a friend on his birthday. And after the evening service, he called on a dying man. The next day, over 100,000 people -- poor and prosperous and princes and prostitutes -- waited for his casket.
And yet as he died, Dick Sheppard felt there was much more to be done. He felt there was more to do in including all of God's children in the church. He believed loving Jesus is not enough. He believed behaving like you believe in Jesus is essential. He believed loving Jesus is no excuse for complacency or contentment or clubbiness or self-righteousness. He believed loving Jesus is about loving others to prove love for Jesus. He believed loving Jesus is about loving everybody -- including yourself -- because God in Jesus loves the world.
What's expected from us? Love God! Prove that love by loving others! Love God and be kind to one another! That's what's expected from us. It's very simple. It's as simple, clear, and concise as Daniel's expectations.
Speaking of children, Stan Bell (our Youth Minister) sent me some letters to God from children:
Dear God,
Who draws the lines around the countries? -- Nan
Dear God,
If we come back as something, please don't let me be Jennifer Horton because I hate her.
-- Denise
Dear God,
Thank you for the baby brother, but I really wanted a puppy.
-- Joyce
Dear God,
Why is Sunday school on Sunday? I thought it was supposed to be our day of rest.
-- Tom
Dear God,
My brother is a rat. You should give him a tail.
-- Danny
Dear God,
I bet it is very hard for You to love all of everybody in the whole world. There are only 4 people in our family and I can never do it.
-- Chris
Dear God,
I do not think anybody could be a better God. Well, I just want You to know but I am not just saying that because You are God already.
-- Charles
Yes, he is God already. And he as God -- a very big and persuasive reality -- expects us to love him, each other, and others.
Marking the end of four years at Center, I've gone through the obligatory ecclesiastical evaluations over the past few months.
I was asked what I like most about Center. I answered, "I love the people, and I think they love me."
Then I was asked what I like least about Center. I answered, "I love the people, and I think they love me."
When asked why the most liked and least liked are the same, I explained:
It's the most exhilarating and exhausting experience in my life. It's like family. When good things are happening in the lives of family members -- baptisms and weddings and graduations and promotions and successes and accomplishments and other good things -- I feel great! But when less than good things are happening -- sickness and sufferings and failures and divorces and deaths and hurts and bruises and all the rest -- I feel with them. So I guess being pastor of Center is kind of like living on the mountaintop and in the valley at the same time. That's what being church is all about. That's what's expected when you're a part of the family.
Let me put it another way.
God only expects from us what he has given to us -- the enfleshment of the best four letter word in the dictionary.
Specifically, Jesus said, "Love each other just as much as I love you" (John 13:34).
All existential and eternal blessings considered, that's not too much to expect.
