Lent 3 Sermon: Our Failures, God's Promise

Exodus 20:1-17/John 2:13-22

“Our Failures, God’s Promise:  The Gift of the Commandments”

      

            Every family has rules.  Ours was no exception.

             I think there is probably even some overlap from family to family.  For example, we had a rule that we could not say “Shut up!” to each other. 

            Instead, we had to say “Be quiet!”  We also had a rule that we always had to say “grace” before we ate, and afterwards, we could not leave the table without asking, “May I be excused please?” 

            We had rules about bedtimes at particular ages, and rules about fighting, although I don’t remember what they are, except perhaps, “No biting!” 

            There were some things we did not have rules about – but maybe we should have – like ‘’see who can eat the most pancakes” contests,  or no taking apart your olive and examining the pimiento.   Or no peeling your banana in four sections and smashing it on the kitchen table while shouting, “X marks the spot!”

            Every family has rules.  Grace pre-school has rules too. 

            There are rules about standing in line, and rules about being quiet when someone else is talking, and rules about praying:  fold your hands and bow your heads and close your eyes

            I saw a teacher reprimand a student this week, because she grabbed another student and it hurt.  The teacher said, “she has to learn that she can’t do that.” 

            Every family has rules.  But before there are rules, there is a relationship.

            So today, Moses goes up to the mountain and receives the ten commandments from God. 

            The people of Israel are left standing at the bottom of the mountain, waiting. 

            And the words the Moses receives, the rules for their life together, are a gift to them.          

            It might seem funny to say that rules are a gift.  Maybe we have never heard of the ten commandments as a gift. 

            But the rules in your family, the rules in the school:  if your family is a good one – they are for your good, aren’t they? 

            They are so you don’t hurt each other, so you know how to live, so that we learn the things that are most important. 

            And before there were rules, there was a relationship.  Before there were rules – there was a promise, given in love. 

            First God made a promise to Noah – and with the whole world.  It’s a good promise, but it’s a sort of rock-bottom, the least-God-can-do sort of promise. 

            At least God is not going to destroy the whole world in a flood again.  At least.              Then God made a covenant with one man, Abraham, and his family – a promise to bless him and bless his family – a promise to bless him and make him a blessing to all of the families of the earth. 

            And this promise results in a third promise, a third covenant – with Abraham’s descendants, the people of Israel. 

            ‘I will be your God, and you will be my people,’ he tells them. 

            And then he rescues them from slavery in Egypt and he leads them through the red sea.  And here they are. 

            Standing at the foot of the mountain, while Moses goes up to receive the words from God.  The commandments.

            And these words are part of the promise, they are part of the covenant.  In fact, when Moses gets ready to go up to meet God,  God says to the people, through Moses, “Now if you obey me fully and keep my covenant (my promise), then out of all nations you will be my treasured possession.”  And the people of Israel, standing there, and the foot of the mountain, say, “We will do everything that the Lord has said.” 

            I will be your God.  You will be my people.  That’s the promise. 

            And that’s the first of all of the commandments that Moses receives.  “I am the Lord your God.  You shall have no other Gods before me.”  It is the first commandment for more than one reason.

             It is first because, well, it makes everything else fall into place, doesn’t it? 

            It is first because it tells us who to listen to, who not to listen to. 

            It is the first because it tells us there are a lot of competing voices, a lot of competing ‘gods’, telling us which way to go….. like the famous scene in the Wizard of Oz, when Dorothy meets the Scarecrow at a crossroads – and wonders which way to go. 

            Suddenly the scarecrow speaks, and he says, “some people say you should go this way, and some people think you should go that way”  --- “and still others think you should go BOTH WAYS!” 

            There are many competing voices, and many competing gods, all of them making promises to us –

            Promises that they will make our lives better – promises that they can keep us safe, promises that they can give us security, that they can give our lives meaning, that they can make us wealthy or powerful….. 

            But God says, “I will be your God and you will be my people.”  My treasured possession.  That’s it.   There is no where else where you can find security…. Where you can find peace… where you can find purpose… where you can find true life….

            I have to tell you though – if you don’t already know it—what happened while Moses was on the mountain receiving the words from God.  

             The people waited at the foot of the mountain. 

            And it seemed like they were waiting for a long time.  And they began to get worried, and they began to be afraid. 

            What if Moses had died up there?

             They saw the mountain from afar, and they saw Moses go into a cloud, and they began to feel like they needed something – something else to put their hopes on. 

            They got together with Moses’ brother Aaron, and they made a god – a golden calf -- out of all of the gold rings that they wore – and they could see it and they could touch it – and they could follow it – but they would have to carry this god, because it wouldn’t move on its own. 

            And then, when the calf was molded – Aaron said, “These are your gods, who brought you out of the land of Egypt!” 

            They had already forgotten that it was God who rescued them. 

            They had already forgotten that it was God who brought them out of the land of Egypt.  They had already forgotten the promise:  “I am the Lord your God.”   

            And you can call it willful rebellion, or you can call it fear, or you can call it amnesia. 

            They were like an Alzheimers patient who had forgotten their name, forgotten who they were, forgotten who they belonged to. 

            Never mind the rules.  And they turned to other gods. 

            And the stone tablets were broken. 

            You shall have no other gods.   The first rule.  The most important one.  Breaking that one, we forget all of the others.

            There’s a moment in Exodus 19, when the people are standing at the foot of the mountain, and God reminds them of what had happened when they escaped from Egypt. 

            And then God says this, “I have borne you on eagle’s wings and brought you to myself.

            God didn’t bring just bring them to the mountain.  He didn’t just bring them through the red sea. 

            He brought them to HIMSELF. 

            Before there were rules, there was a relationship, a promise, a word kept by God. 

            Not by us.  Every promise we broke.

            But God kept.

            And then – God brings us to himself

            In the body of Jesus. 

            “This is my body, given for you.”

            This is my blood, shed for you.”

            In case we forget the promise.

            AMEN

           

Sermon for Lent 2: Our Failures, God's Promise: A New Name

Genesis 17:1-7;15-16

  

            Once I posed the question on Facebook:  Does your name have a story?  If so, what is it?  What is the meaning of your name? 

            Of course, this is more than one question, actually.

             I learned in 9^th grade Latin class that my name actually means, “Goddess” – something that impressed me briefly. 

            But as to the story of my name – how I got my name – I am not sure.  It may have something to do with the popularity of the Lennon sisters in the late 1950s. 

            Maybe my parents just paged through the Baby name book until they found a combination that sounded good.  I don’t know.  But what about you? 

            Do you know the meaning of your name?

            I remember a few people who answered the question. 

            One woman said that her name “Ellen” came from the name of the nurse who attended her mother throughout her pregnancy.  All the time they had a different name in mind, but at the last minute, the name “Ellen” just seemed right.

             Another woman said her parents had named her “Ruth” because it was a good solid name, and they couldn’t ever imagine a girl named “Ruth” misbehaving.   She said they may have changed their minds later in her childhood.

            So our names have stories attached to them – and our names have meaning. 

            And this is true as well for the names in the Bible. 

            For example, do you know that the name “Israel” means – the one who wrestles with God?  Jacob’s name was changed to Israel after he wrestled a blessing out of God out in the desert. 

            And “Isaac” means laughter because Sarah laughed when she heard that she was going to have a baby at 90. 

             Abram means “exalted father” – and Abraham – means “Father of a multitude of nations.”

            To us – Abraham is a name that makes sense. 

            But to Abraham, it must have hard to believe.  Or make that – impossible to believe.    Because Abraham had no children.  And he was 90. 

            The covenant with Abraham – and the story of his name – goes beyond this brief scripture reading.  It begins in Chapter 12 when God tells him to go – “to a place I will show you” – and that he would make his name great – which means, that he would bless Abraham with wealth, measured in offspring and property. 

            The promise and the story continues – God promises that his offspring will be as numerous as the stars, he promises that he will be a great nation.  

            At one point, the promise seems so impossible to believe that Abraham and Sarah decide to take matters into their own hands.  Sarah’s slave, Hagar, has a baby for Abraham. 

            But it turns out t that God has something else in mind, another child, through Sarah. 

            It’s a complicated, messy story of trust and doubt, faithfulness and impatience and  cruelty. 

            At one point Sarah is jealous of Hagar and Ishmael her son, and orders Abraham to cast them out.  Which he does.    

            And when Hagar cries out to God in the wilderness, believing that she will die, God comes to her and makes promises to her and her son as well.

             And by the way, the name Ishmael, the name of Abraham’s other son?  It means, “God listens.” 

            Names are important. 

            They tell us who we are, and they tell us who God is for us.  They give us a promise – and they give us a mission. 

            And sometimes it is tempting only to remember the promise.  Abraham will be blessed and Abraham will be a blessing. 

            His name will mean father of a multitude  of nations– and sometimes he believes it – but other times – he doesn’t. 

            Other times he acts like someone who has to take matters into his own hands, who doesn’t trust that God will come through for him, who doesn’t trust what God is already doing through him.   

            Sometimes Abraham is a hero of faith, and sometimes he acts like a coward. 

            But God still makes a covenant with him, God still makes a promise to him – and to Sarah.

            God promises to bless him – to give him descendants and land – and to make him a blessing. 

            And he gives him a new name – Abraham – father of a multitude of nations.”   

            His descendants will be as numerous as the stars.   And they are, you know. 

            The descendants of Abraham are as numerous as the stars.  Three religions claim him as their patriarch. 

            We do, of course the Jewish people do, and the Islamic nations claim Abraham as their faith too.

            Names are important.  They tell us who we are, and they tell us who God is for us. 

            And they tell us our mission too. 

            Our names tell us that we are blessed – and they also tell us that we are a blessing.  

            But sometimes we fail to believe the promise.  Sometimes we fail to trust the mission.

            When we are baptized – for some of us it’s the time we received our names.  I was baptized about six weeks after I was born.  “Diane Marie” – that is the name that my parents gave me.  

             I had a colleague that didn’t think you should say a baby’s name until after they are baptized. 

            But I always disagreed with that because that’s not the most important thing that’s happening at baptism. 

            After all – some people are baptized when they are six weeks, and some people are baptized when they are 4 and some people are baptized when they are 8 or even 18 – or 80.   

            No – the name that we receive at baptism is this one:  “Christ.”  We are given Christ’s name – and our names are written in the book of life.  That’s the promise. 

            We are given the name of the one who suffered – and died – and rose to life – for the love of the world. 

            And the mission?  We, like Abraham, are blessed to be a blessing to the world. 

            We are given a promise that God will never let us go – all of our lives, and into eternal life – we are his.  He knows our names. 

            And we are also given a mission – to be Christ-bearers. 

            There are times, I will confess, that I have a hard time believing that the promise is for ME. 

            But mostly it’s the second thing I doubt – that God could use me to be an instrument of his peace, and grace, and hope. 

            What about you?  What about all of us … Grace church?   We have a name too.

            Names are important.   Ellen.  Ruth.  Abraham.  James.  Ava.  Shelby.  Connor.  Gabriela.  And Grace.  I believe that God has a mission for us.

             I see the children – at the school, but not just at the school – here, among us.  God has sent them to us.  We are not barren.  God has a mission for us – nurturing life,  making sure they know Jesus, the one who is Grace, the one who gave himself for us. 

            So often we fail.  But God’s love is wider than our failures. 

            Look at the sky and number the stars.  See if you can count them.    You’re up there.  We’re up there.  So shall our descendants be. 

            AMEN

Sermon Advent 3: "Preach!"

Based on John 1:6-8, 19-28

            During my extremely brief career in theatre, I had one small but memorable role in a church production of “Camelot.”

             I had no lines but one solo – and you heard but didn’t see me as I sang from behind a curtain.  

             I played a character called “Nimue” -- and it was my job to sing to Merlin and lure him away from King Arthur and Camelot.  

            It was a small but important role (I told myself) because it was important for Merlin to be out of the picture for most of the play. 

            So I sang my song and Merlin followed the voice.

            I had one job – and then I disappeared.

            I can’t help thinking about this one, small role when I think about John the Baptist in today’s gospel reading.  

             John has a small, but important role. 

            And who does John say that he is? 

            He mostly tells us who he is not – he says – I am NOT the Messiah.  I am NOT Elijah.  I am  NOT the prophet. 

            Who is he?  He is… the voice.  He is a voice crying in the wilderness. 

            A voice.  That’s what John is. 

            Like the voice behind the curtain.  Heard, but not seen. 

            He’s not even called “John the Baptist” – just John. 

            John the Voice.   

            His main job is not baptizing – it’s pointing to the one who is coming after him.

             He is a witness to who Jesus is, and who he will be.  That’s what he does.   

            And he is adamant about who he is NOT – because it is so much more important who Jesus is.

            John is standing around talking to the religious leaders when he says it, his witness. 

            He says this, “Among you stands one you do not know.”   

            That is his testimony.

             Later on he will see Jesus and he will point to him and say, “There he is, the lamb of God. 

            The one who takes away the sin of the world.”  But to start, he says this intriguing thing, “Among you is one you do not know.”

            And it seems to me that this is the beginning of our witness, our voice, as well. 

            We will end up saying other things, but this is the first truth:  among you stands one you do not know. 

            Because if Christmas means anything it means this:  God is with us, God is among us, God is here, not absent from us.

            And when I mean “Here” I don’t mean just “in the church” – although I believe and I hope he is here, among us, in our community and our families and working in our personal lives to transform us.

             But he is here – in Montgomery and in Conroe and in Willis.  He’s in Grace school, and he’s at Mateley Ranch and Geisinger and Stewart and Lone Star and all of the other schools. 

            He’s in the Chamber of Commerce and Fire Station. 

            But most of the time we don’t see him or notice that he is here.

            I think that is one of the reasons that churches had steeples, back in the day – to remind people of God’s presence – not just in the church – but in the neighborhood, in the world.

             The church stands as a reminder, but it doesn’t point to itself.        Like John the Baptist – we point to something much bigger than us.

            We stand here, we gather together, and what we say is, “Among you is one you do not know.”

             And then we point to where we see him, and who he is for us.  But in order to do that we need to know where we are see him, we need to stop and breathe and look around. 

            That is – in part – what Advent is for.  It is has become a time of year full will activity and preparation, with expectations that are often actually impossible to meet. 

            How can we make Christmas, how can WE make Christmas special for everyone this year?

              Will we set the right table, get the right presents, invite the right people?

             Can we make it to all of the places we are expected to be? 

            It is just a week before Christmas eve, and the first thing I want to say to you is “among you is one you do not know.”  

            And when you are looking around for him this coming week, notice first of all the places of grace. 

            Notice the places where you do not need to measure up, where you are known and loved, where arms are open. 

            Notice the places where people make sacrifices, where there is mercy abounding. 

            Notice the places where there is justice, where people are lifted up, where they are seen and claimed as children of God.   

            And tell the world:  “among you there is one you do not know.” 

            He is here, and he is here FOR YOU.   

            He is here for you, and he is here for the sake of the world.    

            He is the light of the world, and we are the ones called to bear witness to the light.

             He is the light of the world,  the one who sheds light on both the shabbiness and the glory in the world. 

            He sheds light on our pain, and he heals us.  He sheds light on our sin, and he forgives us. 

            He sheds light on our hunger, and he feeds us. 

            He is the light of the world, and we are called to see it. 

            He is the light of the world, and we are called to preach it. 

            He is the light of the world, and we are called to point to it – with our lives, with our words, in our actions. 

            Like John. 

            It starts with a Voice.  It starts with a voice, and it leads to a life dedicated to making known the Christ who stands among us, unknown.

            It’s a time of year – just before Christmas – when there is more darkness than light. 

            Sometimes it seems that way in more ways then one. 

            But there is one among us whose mercy is strange, who loves his enemies, whose steadfast love endures forever.

            A few days ago, I saw on television a rare encounter.

             It was between Meghan McCain, John McCain’s daughter, and Joe Biden, the former Vice President

            She was interviewing him about his new book, and she confessed that she couldn’t get through it, because he was talking about his son’s cancer and that is the same cancer that her father has. 

            And the Vice President came and sat next to her and told her how her dad had been such an influence on his son’s life and how they had been friends and how there was hope and she should not give up.

             And I caught a glimpse then of mercy and love and bonds that are stronger than death, of what it looks like that God is in the midst of us, God is among us. 

            Where do you see mercy?  Where do you see sacrifice?

             Where do you see the hungry being fed, the poor being lifted up?  Where do you see relationships being healed?

            Dear world, among you is one you do not know. 

            He is the Lamb of God.  He is the Light of the World. 

            He takes away the sin of the world.

            And he calls you:  Beloved.

            AMEN