The headlines on the BBC home page read, "Deadly Raid on Pakistani Mosques;" "Dozens Die in India Train Attack;" "Obama to Visit Oil Disaster Zone." Each of these stories describes tragic events that will impact individual lives, communities, and the environment for generations. Sudden, mind numbing changes. The video "Shift Happens" by Jeff Brenman, Karl Finch, and Scott McLeod affirms that our world is changing at a frenetic pace: the top 10 in-demand jobs in 2010 did not exist in 2004; the U.S. Department of Labor estimates that today's learner will have 10-14 jobs by age 38; there are 31 billion searches on Google each month, in 2006 there were 2.7 billion. The world is in a state of non-stop, hyper-change - How should the Church respond?
For many, the church is the last bastion of stability. It is their place of solace, their "sanctuary" (pun intended) from a world rife with uncertainty and instability. The structure, the style, and the culture of their local church provides a sense of security that isn't merely imagined but visceral. The church along with its traditions and rituals is the repository for the values, the morals, and the convictions at the core of their identity - the very values, morals, and convictions a world marked by rapid change is intent upon undermining.
Others in the church respond to hyper-change by seeking cultural relevance. With iPhone in hand, they chase the ever ellusive tail of change hoping to grasp for a few nanoseconds the prize of "relevance." This is often expressed through contemporary multi-media filled worship services, blogs (guilty as charged), Facebook pages, Twitter and Youtube posts.
The fact of the matter is that both responses, though understandable, are motivated by the dictates and patterns of the world rather than faithfulness to the Kingdom of God. Are we to react to the ways of the world or are we to respond to the call and will of God? I know many who pursue the tail of change will reference 1 Corinthians 9 and Paul becoming all things to all people in order to win a few, but the apostle Paul never confused effective communication with watering down the Gospel. Neither did he confuse his religious tradition and heritage with the essence of his faith, his identity, or the Kingdom of God (See Acts 15; Galatians and pretty much most of the Pauline epistles).
I would argue that in a world of vapid change (yes I meant vapid) the church must forego the reactive responses of protectionism and cultural relevance and pursue a response of radical obedience that embodies the words of Paul, "For his [Christ's] sake I have suffered the loss of all things, and I regard them as rubbish, in order that I may gain Christ and be found in him..." (Philippians 3:8-9).
Are we willing to give up our "traditions" and our "cultural relevance" in order to gain Christ? Are we willing to give up our comfort, our tastes, and our in house coffee bars to be found in him? Are we the hands and feet of Jesus willing to humble ourselves and become obedient to the point of death in order for a world consumed by relentless change to experience the un-changing love, grace, and mercy of God?
There is no doubt that shift happens, but what about obedience?
Friday, May 28, 2010
Friday, December 4, 2009
Use Somebody - Sermon to Youth Nov. 22, 2009
In the spring of 2003, I had only been a Christian for a few months when I had this overwhelming sense that God was calling me to serve him fulltime in ministry. If you had known me at the time, you would have known that this was a crazy idea. God wanted to use me, me of all people. I can remember that day in April when I attempted to email the pastor of my church to tell him that I thought I was being called into ministry.
I was teaching 6th grade and while my kids were working on an assignment, I quickly typed a short email telling him I wanted to meet with him because I thought I was being called into ministry. But I couldn’t hit the send button. I knew that once I hit that send button that it was a done deal that there was no going back. For the next three hours, I would teach some, get my kids working on an assignment then walk over to my computer put my hand on the mouse, look at the send button, then walk away.
As time passed and I went back and forth to my computer, God was patient with me – he’d been patient with me for the past 30 years – what was another couple of hours. Eventually, God began to whisper to me that he could “Use Somebody, Someone Like Me.”
Play Song – 1:25 minutes http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ugpjfYA1hZ4
I struggled to hit that send button because I had done a so many bad things in my life. Like many of you, my parents were Christians and went to church all the time - more times than I wanted to go. I was involved in the youth group and all of their events, but when I was in middle school things started to change.
My older sister got pregnant when she was 18 and I was in the seventh grade, and my sister’s pregnancy crushed my parents. They had lived in this perfect little bubble where unexpected things, bad things didn’t happen to them. I can still remember the day my parents told my older brother and me about my sister’s pregnancy. I had never seen them so devastated or upset. It made me so angry that I rode my bike over to the guy’s house who got my sister pregnant and threw rocks at his windows.
After my sister gave birth to my nephew, they moved back in with us and lived with us for the next 5 years. Those next 5 years were tough. We moved from Washington D.C. to Atlanta where we didn’t know anyone. My family started to fall apart. We couldn’t sit down and eat a meal together or even be in the same room together without an argument or a screaming match breaking out. I hated being at home and I couldn’t wait to graduate from High School and go to college.
I had so much frustration and anger inside of me; I didn’t know what to do with it. I hated my sister for getting pregnant, I hated my parents for letting their marriage fall apart, and I hated the church for being a bunch of hypocrites. I was angry at the world, and I began to rebel against anyone and everything. By the time I graduated from high school, I was determined to never step into another church or move back to my parent’s house. In the fall of 1991, I headed off to college with gangsta rap playing on the radio and a determination in my heart to do whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted, with whomever I wanted.
By the end of my freshman year of college I had gotten drunk more times than I could remember, smoked marijuana, and had sex for the first time. I was doing all of the things my parents and my church had tried to teach me not to do, but honestly I didn’t care. I didn’t care about my parents, or God, or Jesus, or if I lived or died.
I can remember one night in particular when all of my anger and frustration came pouring out of me. I had been drinking and I was driving on these windy mountain roads and I just snapped. I started cussing at God and I told him I was going to drive my truck as fast as I could and it was up to him if I lived or died. I was giving God the middle finger; I was tempting him; I was trying to use my truck to commit suicide. But what I didn’t know then was that God was trying to tell me that he “Could Use Somebody, Someone like me.”
The remainder of my time is college was filled with drinking, girls, and pretty much whatever I wanted to do. A year after I miraculously graduated from college my life was pretty much the same except I was out in Wyoming and Montana site-seeing with my girlfriend at the time. We were driving all over the place going to the Grand Tetons, to Yellow Stone, to Glacier National Park. This was before DVD players and iPods, so we filled our driving times by taking turns reading a loud a book named Animal Dreams. The more we read the book the more I got the sense that I was going to die that summer. I didn’t know exactly when or how, but I just knew that I was going to die. One day this feeling became so real, so tangible that I freaked out and I had to pull my truck over on the side of the road. I couldn’t breathe. I was having a panic attack. For the first time in my life I realized that I was going to die and that one day I would not exist. The realization of my mortality scared the H-E-Double-Chopsticks out off me.
About a month after I had freaked out about dying, I watched my dad die of a heart attack. I watched as paramedics tried to give him CPR, I watched as different people pushed on his chest. I watched as they squeezed air into his lungs. I, the one who had tried to do anything and everything to rebel against my parents and what they believed, watched the man who’d loved me regardless of what I did slip into eternity. I could have never imagined on that night in college when I dared God to let me die that my dad’s death would be the moment that I began to hear God softly whisper, “Allen, I could use somebody, someone like you.”
Today God wants each of you to know that he can “Use Somebody, Someone Like You.” You may be sitting there thinking, no he can’t use me because I’m only a kid, or he can’t use me because I’m over-weight, I’m not popular, or he can’t use me because people at school pick on me and make fun of me.
Maybe your sitting there thinking, God can’t use me because I’ve made some serious mistakes; I’ve already done some really messed up things. I’ve gotten drunk, smoked, tried drugs. I’ve had sex with my girlfriend or boyfriend. I’ve done things that no one knows about, that I’m ashamed of, that my parents could never imagine.
I am here to tell you this morning that God wants to forgive you that he wants to forgive you so badly that he sent his only Son to die on a cross. God’s looking at each of you and he is reaching out his arms longing to hold you, to embrace you. He wants you to know that no matter what you have done, and no matter what other people have done to you that “he can use somebody, someone like you.”
I was teaching 6th grade and while my kids were working on an assignment, I quickly typed a short email telling him I wanted to meet with him because I thought I was being called into ministry. But I couldn’t hit the send button. I knew that once I hit that send button that it was a done deal that there was no going back. For the next three hours, I would teach some, get my kids working on an assignment then walk over to my computer put my hand on the mouse, look at the send button, then walk away.
As time passed and I went back and forth to my computer, God was patient with me – he’d been patient with me for the past 30 years – what was another couple of hours. Eventually, God began to whisper to me that he could “Use Somebody, Someone Like Me.”
Play Song – 1:25 minutes http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ugpjfYA1hZ4
I struggled to hit that send button because I had done a so many bad things in my life. Like many of you, my parents were Christians and went to church all the time - more times than I wanted to go. I was involved in the youth group and all of their events, but when I was in middle school things started to change.
My older sister got pregnant when she was 18 and I was in the seventh grade, and my sister’s pregnancy crushed my parents. They had lived in this perfect little bubble where unexpected things, bad things didn’t happen to them. I can still remember the day my parents told my older brother and me about my sister’s pregnancy. I had never seen them so devastated or upset. It made me so angry that I rode my bike over to the guy’s house who got my sister pregnant and threw rocks at his windows.
After my sister gave birth to my nephew, they moved back in with us and lived with us for the next 5 years. Those next 5 years were tough. We moved from Washington D.C. to Atlanta where we didn’t know anyone. My family started to fall apart. We couldn’t sit down and eat a meal together or even be in the same room together without an argument or a screaming match breaking out. I hated being at home and I couldn’t wait to graduate from High School and go to college.
I had so much frustration and anger inside of me; I didn’t know what to do with it. I hated my sister for getting pregnant, I hated my parents for letting their marriage fall apart, and I hated the church for being a bunch of hypocrites. I was angry at the world, and I began to rebel against anyone and everything. By the time I graduated from high school, I was determined to never step into another church or move back to my parent’s house. In the fall of 1991, I headed off to college with gangsta rap playing on the radio and a determination in my heart to do whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted, with whomever I wanted.
By the end of my freshman year of college I had gotten drunk more times than I could remember, smoked marijuana, and had sex for the first time. I was doing all of the things my parents and my church had tried to teach me not to do, but honestly I didn’t care. I didn’t care about my parents, or God, or Jesus, or if I lived or died.
I can remember one night in particular when all of my anger and frustration came pouring out of me. I had been drinking and I was driving on these windy mountain roads and I just snapped. I started cussing at God and I told him I was going to drive my truck as fast as I could and it was up to him if I lived or died. I was giving God the middle finger; I was tempting him; I was trying to use my truck to commit suicide. But what I didn’t know then was that God was trying to tell me that he “Could Use Somebody, Someone like me.”
The remainder of my time is college was filled with drinking, girls, and pretty much whatever I wanted to do. A year after I miraculously graduated from college my life was pretty much the same except I was out in Wyoming and Montana site-seeing with my girlfriend at the time. We were driving all over the place going to the Grand Tetons, to Yellow Stone, to Glacier National Park. This was before DVD players and iPods, so we filled our driving times by taking turns reading a loud a book named Animal Dreams. The more we read the book the more I got the sense that I was going to die that summer. I didn’t know exactly when or how, but I just knew that I was going to die. One day this feeling became so real, so tangible that I freaked out and I had to pull my truck over on the side of the road. I couldn’t breathe. I was having a panic attack. For the first time in my life I realized that I was going to die and that one day I would not exist. The realization of my mortality scared the H-E-Double-Chopsticks out off me.
About a month after I had freaked out about dying, I watched my dad die of a heart attack. I watched as paramedics tried to give him CPR, I watched as different people pushed on his chest. I watched as they squeezed air into his lungs. I, the one who had tried to do anything and everything to rebel against my parents and what they believed, watched the man who’d loved me regardless of what I did slip into eternity. I could have never imagined on that night in college when I dared God to let me die that my dad’s death would be the moment that I began to hear God softly whisper, “Allen, I could use somebody, someone like you.”
Today God wants each of you to know that he can “Use Somebody, Someone Like You.” You may be sitting there thinking, no he can’t use me because I’m only a kid, or he can’t use me because I’m over-weight, I’m not popular, or he can’t use me because people at school pick on me and make fun of me.
Maybe your sitting there thinking, God can’t use me because I’ve made some serious mistakes; I’ve already done some really messed up things. I’ve gotten drunk, smoked, tried drugs. I’ve had sex with my girlfriend or boyfriend. I’ve done things that no one knows about, that I’m ashamed of, that my parents could never imagine.
I am here to tell you this morning that God wants to forgive you that he wants to forgive you so badly that he sent his only Son to die on a cross. God’s looking at each of you and he is reaching out his arms longing to hold you, to embrace you. He wants you to know that no matter what you have done, and no matter what other people have done to you that “he can use somebody, someone like you.”
Friday, November 13, 2009
The Elephant in the Room - Sermon Nov. 8, 2009
Have ya’ll heard the expression the elephant in the room? The website “Phrase Finder” tries to get all technical when they define it as, “An important and obvious topic, which everyone present is aware of, but which isn't discussed, as such discussion is considered to be uncomfortable.” But in everyday terms, the elephant in the room is the thing that everybody knows but no one wants to talk about.
We can probably all think of examples where there was an elephant in the room. For families there are all kinds of elephants in the room – generational elephants like addiction or physical or sexual abuse. In business, the elephant in the room might be that women and minorities are passed over for high level promotions. In politics, the elephants and the donkeys are all over the room from health care; to the economy; to defense spending; to the fundraising practices of political candidates.
This morning there are a few elephants in the room. Now the first elephant in the room that I want to name and claim is the fact that this is the third week of our stewardship campaign. Guess what? A stewardship campaign is about money. We can try and be creative and divert your attention away from that fact, but the simple truth is that we need your money if we are going to continue to do ministry in Lawrenceville and around the world. Believe me; I know the economy stinks because the second elephant in the room is the fact that our giving has been down for months now.
There are some of ya’ll probably thinking to yourself, “I knew it. That’s all church’s talk about is money.” Well right now that is what we are talking about because we are in the middle of a stewardship campaign, and I’d be lying to you if I said I didn’t want you to give to our church because I believe in our ministries. But before you check out or get up and leave please hear me when I say I am not worried about our stewardship campaign. I’m not worried about how much money we receive. I know we will continue serving God here in Lawrenceville and around the world even if that means making difficult financial decisions. We may have to cut our budget, we may have to let staff go, we may have to change the way we do ministry.
Honestly, what I am most worried about is the third elephant in the room. This third elephant also has to do with a stewardship campaign. But this campaign operates within an eternal economy with an investment structure and a currency that our world doesn’t understand, that our world disregards, that it laughs at and sometimes persecutes.
I want us to take a closer look at this other stewardship campaign, and I think we can begin to learn more about it when we read Mark 8:34-9:1. Mark is the second book in the New Testament after the book of Matthew and chapter 8 begins on page () in your pew Bible.
The third elephant in the room is the fact that God is in the midst of an eternal stewardship campaign and the currency he is seeking is not a 10% tithe, or our teaching a Sunday school class, or our serving on the finance committee. The currency God requires for his eternal stewardship campaign is our life our very soul. He wants everything.
In Mark chapter 8, we learn that involvement in God’s eternal stewardship campaign has three essential requirements. Let’s look at v. 34: “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me.” The three requirements for participation in God’s eternal stewardship campaign are: 1) denying yourself; 2) taking up your cross; and 3) following Jesus. So what do those things mean? What does it mean to deny yourself, to take up your cross, and to follow Jesus?
Unfortunately the first requirement “deny yourself” gets misinterpreted and misapplied all the time. People hear “deny yourself” and they immediately assume Jesus is telling them to deny their self-worth, to deny their emotions, or to deny themselves happiness. They take their own damaged self-image or brokenness and they turn the command “to deny yourself” into a pair of boxing gloves to beat themselves up with.
But that’s not what Jesus is talking about; when he tells us to deny ourselves he’s telling us “to reject,” “to refuse,” “to say no” to our self-lordship. In the words of Darrell Johnson, “denying ourselves” means “saying no to the god who is me.” To deny ourselves is to place our self-will and our self-seeking into the hands of Jesus. It is to say quite simply, “Jesus you are in control and not me...It is thy will be done, thy will be done and not mine.”
The second requirement for participation in God’s stewardship campaign is “to take up your cross.” Again this command gets misapplied and misinterpreted, and people use it all the time to refer to an ongoing illness, or a hardship, or an unhealthy relationship. But these interpretations miss the significance of Jesus’ command.
In the first century, the cross was the most severe and repulsive form of capital punishment that existed. It was reserved for criminals, political radicals - the lowest of the low. Criminals were forced to “take up” the horizontal cross beam they were to be hung from and carry it to the place of their crucifixion. They were dead men walking.
When Jesus commands us “to take up our cross” he is commanding us to relinquish our lives to him and to consider ourselves already dead. “To take up our cross” is to crucify all of our earthly agendas, ambitions, hopes, and dreams. It is to die for Jesus.
The third and final requirement for participation in God’s stewardship campaign is “to follow Jesus.” When we deny ownership of our lives and die to all of our earthly passions for the sake of Jesus, then we begin to follow his lead and his example. To “follow Jesus” is not only about letting him lead; it is about living a life that reflects his love, his obedience, his suffering and his sacrifice. To “follow Jesus” is to hop like a child from footprint to footprint behind the one whose destination is the cross of Calvary.
God is in the midst of an eternal stewardship campaign and you are either in or you are out. There is no middle ground. There are no special circumstances, loopholes, or tax breaks. The choices are clear. You either “deny yourself and take up your cross and follow Jesus” or you don’t. There is no amount of money, being good, or serving at the church that God will accept. The only currency he will take is your life, your very soul.
So I have to ask you, “Have you denied yourself, taken up your cross, and followed Jesus?” You only have two choices either yes or no. One choice leads to eternity with God, the other to eternity without him.
The paradox of the Christian faith is that we have to lose our life to save it. But the good new, the amazing news this morning is that Jesus denied himself and took up his cross and followed the will of his Father in heaven so that we could do the same.
We can probably all think of examples where there was an elephant in the room. For families there are all kinds of elephants in the room – generational elephants like addiction or physical or sexual abuse. In business, the elephant in the room might be that women and minorities are passed over for high level promotions. In politics, the elephants and the donkeys are all over the room from health care; to the economy; to defense spending; to the fundraising practices of political candidates.
This morning there are a few elephants in the room. Now the first elephant in the room that I want to name and claim is the fact that this is the third week of our stewardship campaign. Guess what? A stewardship campaign is about money. We can try and be creative and divert your attention away from that fact, but the simple truth is that we need your money if we are going to continue to do ministry in Lawrenceville and around the world. Believe me; I know the economy stinks because the second elephant in the room is the fact that our giving has been down for months now.
There are some of ya’ll probably thinking to yourself, “I knew it. That’s all church’s talk about is money.” Well right now that is what we are talking about because we are in the middle of a stewardship campaign, and I’d be lying to you if I said I didn’t want you to give to our church because I believe in our ministries. But before you check out or get up and leave please hear me when I say I am not worried about our stewardship campaign. I’m not worried about how much money we receive. I know we will continue serving God here in Lawrenceville and around the world even if that means making difficult financial decisions. We may have to cut our budget, we may have to let staff go, we may have to change the way we do ministry.
Honestly, what I am most worried about is the third elephant in the room. This third elephant also has to do with a stewardship campaign. But this campaign operates within an eternal economy with an investment structure and a currency that our world doesn’t understand, that our world disregards, that it laughs at and sometimes persecutes.
I want us to take a closer look at this other stewardship campaign, and I think we can begin to learn more about it when we read Mark 8:34-9:1. Mark is the second book in the New Testament after the book of Matthew and chapter 8 begins on page () in your pew Bible.
The third elephant in the room is the fact that God is in the midst of an eternal stewardship campaign and the currency he is seeking is not a 10% tithe, or our teaching a Sunday school class, or our serving on the finance committee. The currency God requires for his eternal stewardship campaign is our life our very soul. He wants everything.
In Mark chapter 8, we learn that involvement in God’s eternal stewardship campaign has three essential requirements. Let’s look at v. 34: “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me.” The three requirements for participation in God’s eternal stewardship campaign are: 1) denying yourself; 2) taking up your cross; and 3) following Jesus. So what do those things mean? What does it mean to deny yourself, to take up your cross, and to follow Jesus?
Unfortunately the first requirement “deny yourself” gets misinterpreted and misapplied all the time. People hear “deny yourself” and they immediately assume Jesus is telling them to deny their self-worth, to deny their emotions, or to deny themselves happiness. They take their own damaged self-image or brokenness and they turn the command “to deny yourself” into a pair of boxing gloves to beat themselves up with.
But that’s not what Jesus is talking about; when he tells us to deny ourselves he’s telling us “to reject,” “to refuse,” “to say no” to our self-lordship. In the words of Darrell Johnson, “denying ourselves” means “saying no to the god who is me.” To deny ourselves is to place our self-will and our self-seeking into the hands of Jesus. It is to say quite simply, “Jesus you are in control and not me...It is thy will be done, thy will be done and not mine.”
The second requirement for participation in God’s stewardship campaign is “to take up your cross.” Again this command gets misapplied and misinterpreted, and people use it all the time to refer to an ongoing illness, or a hardship, or an unhealthy relationship. But these interpretations miss the significance of Jesus’ command.
In the first century, the cross was the most severe and repulsive form of capital punishment that existed. It was reserved for criminals, political radicals - the lowest of the low. Criminals were forced to “take up” the horizontal cross beam they were to be hung from and carry it to the place of their crucifixion. They were dead men walking.
When Jesus commands us “to take up our cross” he is commanding us to relinquish our lives to him and to consider ourselves already dead. “To take up our cross” is to crucify all of our earthly agendas, ambitions, hopes, and dreams. It is to die for Jesus.
The third and final requirement for participation in God’s stewardship campaign is “to follow Jesus.” When we deny ownership of our lives and die to all of our earthly passions for the sake of Jesus, then we begin to follow his lead and his example. To “follow Jesus” is not only about letting him lead; it is about living a life that reflects his love, his obedience, his suffering and his sacrifice. To “follow Jesus” is to hop like a child from footprint to footprint behind the one whose destination is the cross of Calvary.
God is in the midst of an eternal stewardship campaign and you are either in or you are out. There is no middle ground. There are no special circumstances, loopholes, or tax breaks. The choices are clear. You either “deny yourself and take up your cross and follow Jesus” or you don’t. There is no amount of money, being good, or serving at the church that God will accept. The only currency he will take is your life, your very soul.
So I have to ask you, “Have you denied yourself, taken up your cross, and followed Jesus?” You only have two choices either yes or no. One choice leads to eternity with God, the other to eternity without him.
The paradox of the Christian faith is that we have to lose our life to save it. But the good new, the amazing news this morning is that Jesus denied himself and took up his cross and followed the will of his Father in heaven so that we could do the same.
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