Tag: God

Sermons

Any of them

Alfred the Great – October 26, 2017 – Wisdom 6:1-3, 9-12, 24-25; Luke 6:43-49

It’s hard to preach on our more legendary saints. It’s hard to know which parts of their stories are purely myth and which parts are not. Alfred is no exception.

It’s even harder to preach on a saint who is not named something like Luke, Andrew, or Thomas. It’s easier to explain apostles and evangelists. We know them through scripture that is sacred and inspired.

Alfred doesn’t have scripture. He has a Netflix series, but that doesn’t quite cut it.

Honestly, I get uncomfortable preparing to preach on saints like Alfred. I was once outside of this tradition. I thought, those people let their worship of saints get in the way of their worship of God. Nowadays, I know that’s not true. My faith has been enriched by a tradition filled with saints.

But somebody like Alfred? Really? He’s a king for crying out loud! How very Anglican it is to remember a monarch who revived the arts and promoted education.

But didn’t Jesus come for the poor? Wasn’t he born in a barn? Didn’t he ride on a donkey instead of a dazzling white horse? And wasn’t he constantly telling his disciples, “I’m not that kind of king, and this isn’t that type of kingdom.”

There is no hierarchy in heaven. So why celebrate a king?

The God that I worship casts down the mighty from their thrones and lifts up the lowly. The God that I pray to fills the hungry with good things and sends the rich away empty. The God of my ancestors challenges my assumptions.

What was dead is alive. What was old is new. What had fallen away has been restored. So, why don’t we remember the innkeeper, or the drummer boy, or the third century goatherd whose life did not have any meaning until he heard the story of Jesus?

Those kinds of folks exist too, right? So, why do celebrate a king?

Don’t get me wrong. There’s plenty to admire about Alfred. I have no doubt that if Jeremy Carlson met Alfred, he’d say, “Man, what a good dude.”

King Alfred kept his people safe. He promoted an educated clergy. He founded monastic communities and saw to it that classic theological works were translated into English.

The Book of Wisdom tells us that a king who listens to the Lord will profit and be the stability of the people. By all accounts, Alfred was a devoted, Jesus-loving churchman. Jesus tells us that only good trees bear good fruit. Alfred certainly fits the bill. That’s why we remember him.

But perhaps Alfred is just history’s low-hanging [good] fruit. There were others: soldiers, footmen, cooks, dish washers. Teachers, postal workers, custodians, and bus drivers.

It’s important to remember that we don’t come tonight to celebrate King Alfred. We come to celebrate God. We’re not glorifying Alfred. We’re commemorating what Alfred did to glorify God. And what we all can do to glorify God.

We hear about Alfred, not because he was a king, but because he’s a good example of life in Christ.

His good works were inspired by his faith in God. He bore good fruit because he treasured God in his heart. He built his house on a solid foundation of rock because he listened to Jesus.

So tonight, for good reason, we’ve got Alfred. But don’t look at Alfred to see God. Look at Alfred’s example to see yourself, not as a king, but as a person who seeks to do God’s will.

I saw a church sign the other day. It said, “There are no saints in church, only forgiven sinners.” I thought to myself—well, what do they think saints are?

Alfred was one of God’s own. A sinner like you. A sinner like me. And a sinner just like the goatherds, innkeepers, cooks, footmen, and dish washers. Just like the teachers, postal workers, custodians, and bus drivers.

Any of them can show you how to glorify God.

There is a former president who builds houses for the people who need them most. And there is also an old sunburnt mailman living pension check to pension check and still tithes ten percent to the church.

There is a university president who gives a third of her income to student scholarships. And there is a custodian who volunteers to sit up all night at the homeless shelter.

There is a billionaire CEO who leaves all of his money to charity and there is a destitute desk clerk who leaves all of his money to charity.

There is a movie star advocates against human trafficking, and there is a gardener who works overtime just to be able to feed the kids.

There is a professional athlete who coaches the special olympics, and there is a single mom who coaches inner-city youth.

There is a high-powered attorney who does pro-bono work for illegal immigrants, and there is a public defender who stands up for the most heinous offenders.

The same God who defies our expectations, who says that the last shall be first and the first shall be last…The same God who scatters the proud in their conceit…The same God who brought again Jesus Christ from the dead…That same God is telling us that we can learn from any of them.

Even a king.

Sermons

Everything To God In Prayer

La quinta semana en Cuaresma 4 de abril, 2017 – Numbers 21:4-9, John 8:21-30

I preached this sermon at one of our biweekly Spanish Eucharists. What an honor to be asked! I’m grateful for the seminary’s pastoral Spanish program. (See both Spanish and English versions below.)

Frecuentemente nos volvemos insatisfechos con Dios; no creemos que, en nuestras circunstancias actuales, le importemos a él. Vemos ejemplos de nuestra inclinación a la insatisfacción reflejada de vuelta a nosotros en ambas escrituras de hoy del Antiguo y del Nuevo Testamento.

Los israelitas eran impacientes, no confiaban en Dios, y empezaron a quejarse (algo que no resultó muy bien).  En su impaciencia y desconfianza Dios les mandó serpientes para que les mordieran y muchos murieron.  Solamente ante su muerte inminente admitieron su pecado y le pidieron piedad a Dios.

Del mismo modo, los judíos, como fueron representados en el evangelio de Juan, no aceptaron lo que Jesús les dijo. Muchos no lo tomaron en su palabra. Ellos también sufrieron una muerte, pero no una literal como la de los antiguos israelitas.  Más bien es en su confusión y en su descuido que perecen.  Es en sus pecados, en la seducción de este mundo.

Jesús les dice que no es hasta que el Hijo del hombre sea levantado – en la cruz, de la tumba, al cielo – que se darán cuenta de quién es. No es hasta que la serpiente de bronce es erigida en el desierto que vuelven a temer de nuevo a Dios.

Tenemos que admitir que, como nuestros antiguos antepasados, hay veces en nuestras vidas cuando estamos insatisfechos con Dios.  La Cuaresma es un tiempo que puede traer insatisfacción al frente de nuestras mentes.  Puede ser particularmente difícil de ver las maneras por la cual Dios trabaja en nuestras vidas al caminar por el desierto de Cuaresma y al prepararnos para recomprometernos a Jesucristo. 

Cuando nosotros, como nuestros espirituales antepasados, nos volvemos impacientes, cuando no logramos entender lo que está haciendo Dios, cuando Dios parece estar lejos de nosotros, entonces tenemos que ser honestos sobre esto al orar.

Es en esta manera que somos llamados a observar una Santa Cuaresma.  Somos llamados a orar, especialmente en horas de profundo aislamiento.  Orar no es algo simplemente relacionado con agradecimiento o con júbilo.  No es aún algo relacionado con enfermedad o muerte.  Como me dijo un amigo hace varios años, somos llamados a orar el entero espectro de la experiencia humana.  Cuando nos sentimos abandonados, somos llamados a orar una oración de los abandonados.  Cuando nos sentimos olvidados, oramos una oración de los olvidados. Cuando estamos sin esperanza, oramos una oración de los sin esperanza.

No podemos simplemente apaciguar nuestras insatisfacciones recordándonos que “Dios está siempre con nosotros”.  Ese tipo de respuesta trillada es inútil para nosotros cuando afrontamos una angustia profunda.  Más bien, Dios nos llama a abrazar nuestros sentimientos de aislamiento, a ser honestos sobre como nos sentimos con nosotros mismos y con Dios, y asentarnos profundamente en una vida de oración a medida que nos preparemos para la mañana cuando podamos gritar, “¡Él vive!”.

_________

Often we become dissatisfied with God; we don’t believe that he cares about us in our current circumstances. We see examples of our propensity for dissatisfaction reflected back at us in both today’s Old and New Testament scriptures.

The Israelites were impatient; they did not trust God, and they began to complain (which didn’t turn out so well). In their impatience and distrust God sent snakes to bite them, and many died. Only in the face of their impending death did they admit their sin and ask God for mercy.

Likewise, the Jews as portrayed in John’s gospel, did not accept what Jesus told them. Many did not take him at his word. They too experienced a death, though not a literal one like that of the ancient Israelites. Rather it is in their confusion and neglect that they perish. It is in their sins, in the seduction of this world.

Jesus tells them that it is not until the Son of Man has been lifted up—on the cross, from the tomb, up to heaven—that they will realize who he is. It is not until the bronze serpent is erected in the wilderness that they come to fear God again.

We must admit that, like our ancient predecessors, there are times in our own lives when we are dissatisfied with God. Lent is a time that can bring dissatisfaction to the forefront of our minds. It can be especially hard to see the ways God works in our lives as we walk through Lent’s wilderness and make preparations to recommit ourselves to Christ.

When we, like our ancient spiritual ancestors, grow impatient, when we fail to understand what God is doing, when God seems distant from us, then we must be honest about it in prayer.

It is in this way we are called to observe a Holy Lent. We are called to prayer especially in times of deep isolation. Prayer isn’t just about thanksgiving or joy. It’s not even just about sickness or death. As a friend told me some years ago, we are called to pray the whole spectrum of the human experience. When we feel forsaken, we are called to pray a prayer of the forsaken. When we feel forgotten, we pray a prayer of the forgotten. When we feel hopeless, we pray the prayer of the hopeless.

We cannot simply placate our dissatisfactions by reminding each other that, “God is always with us.” That kind of trite response is useless to us when we face deep anguish. Rather, God calls us to embrace our feelings of isolation, to be honest about our feelings with ourselves and with God, and to settle deep into a life of prayer as we prepare ourselves for the morning we can cry, “He lives!”