June 19, 2016 Sermon: "Trusting God's Call"

Stephen Baldwin

OT: 1 Kings 19.1-15a

NT: Luke 5.27-32

           

            Last week I told you that things were about to get real—and by that let me clearly say that it was about to hit the fan—between Elijah, Ahab, and Jezebel.  Elijah was one of God’s most revered prophets.  Ahab and Jezebel were two of God’s most defiled royals.  Prophets, kings, and queens were supposed to work together like governors and senators and delegates…and that’s exactly how dysfunctional their relationship was.  Ahab, Elijah, & Jezebel were not cordial.  They did not agree to disagree.  They did not say nice things about one another to mutual friends.  They lived at each other’s throat. 

            Verse 1.  Most of the time, Elijah had the upper hand.  If you read chapter 18, you see that Elijah bested 400 of Ahab’s prophets and then outran the king’s chariots in a getaway which would make Smoky & the Bandit proud.  But the sheriff is about to change the game. 

            Verse 2.  Jezebel decides to kill Elijah.  We know from last week’s story that when Jezebel sets her mind to something, she does it.  If we know that just from reading the story, Elijah knew it in real time.  Jezebel was not to be trifled with. 

            Verse 3.  He was so afraid that he fled 100 miles…on foot.  Few people know that kind of fear.  It would be like packing your bags and fleeing to rural Russia today.  Taking such a large step would signal real fear for your life.

            Verse 4.   Elijah, who has spoken truth to power for God for years, who has gone toe to toe with Ahab & Jezebel at every chance, suddenly gives up.  He wants to die so he doesn’t have to run anymore.  He’s done with all the mayhem his life has become.    

            Verse 5-8.  Sometimes if I want my dogs to go somewhere they don’t really want to go, I’ll lead them with a trail of milk bones along the way.  God does the same to Elijah…all the way to the destination God has in mind for him. 

            Verse 9-10.  Elijah must have been incredulous.  He surely wanted to say, “What am I doing here?  YOU sent me here!”  But he put his big boy pants on and said something more professional.  “I have tried my best to do your work, God, and now they want to kill me for it.” 

            Verse 11-12.  Elijah fears for his life.  This is his moment of need, and he expects God to speak to him loud and clear with a message.  After all, that is how their relationship works.  God speaks, and Elijah relays the message.  Without hearing from God, Elijah cannot do his job.  God tells him to step outside the cave and listen.  A mighty wind blows, but Elijah does not go outside to listen.  A towering earthquake shakes the ground, but Elijah does not go outside to listen.  A crackling fire wrecks the desert, but Elijah does not go outside to listen.  This is how it works.  God speaks, and Elijah listens.  God often speaks in burning bushes and bolts of fire and earthquakes that raise the dead.  But Elijah pays no attention to any of that…until…he hears the sound of the sheer silence. 

            Verse 13.  The still, small voice of God speaks, and Elijah finally comes outside to listen.  In a rushed and loud world, we can certainly identify with Elijah’s curiosity at the sound of sheer silence and what it might mean.  God says again, “Why are you here?” 

            Verse 14.  If you’re feeling déjà vu, then you’re paying attention.  Elijah responds, word for word, the same way he does before.  “I have tried my best to do your work, God, and now they want to kill me for it.” 

            Verse 15.  God says, “Ok, now get back there.”  What?  You mean to tell me that’s what God has to say?  After the buildup of the100-mile chase and the wind and the earthquake and the fire and the sheer silence, God tells his best prophet who’s hit rock bottom, “Get back there where you came from and do it again?”  How is that compassionate, loving, or supportive?  How is that fitting of God the Father? 

            Because Elijah never should’ve walked away in the first place.  God called him to a do a certain job at a certain time, and a little trash talking had Elijah ready to walk away.  Have you ever doubted God’s call on your life?  Do you ever want to hit the reset button and start again?  Do you sometimes just want the wind and the fire and the earthquakes to be replaced by the sound of sheer silence…so you’ll be able to hear clearly exactly what God wants for you? 

            When you’re ready to give up before the race is over…that is precisely when you need somebody who loves you and is on your side to remind you that it gets better.  God the Father is doing that very thing for Elijah.  Pushing him to fulfill his calling and reminding him that he’s doing the right thing. 

            God placed a call on your life many moons ago.  We all stray from that call sometimes, and we may even have to make a 100-mile journey just to realize where we were is where we need to be.  But God’s call is true.  Trust it.  Trust God’s call on your life.  Amen.   

Stephen Baldwin

OT: 1 Kings 21.1-21a

NT: Luke 7.36-39

The Blessing of Limits (Part 2)

            Last week, we talked about the blessing of limits.  Those things that we don’t have or can’t do or weren’t gifted with…they are limitations, and they are blessings.  God created all of us with limits, for our own good.  That message resonated better at our nursing home service than it did with you all, because they know what it’s like to be limited…and they know that they are still blessed!  Those with greater limits seem to have learned to appreciate what they do have more than most of us.  This is part two of that message.                    There is a void in you.  Something is missing.  You confront this void everyday of your life.  Maybe it involves your family or health or past. It doesn’t matter how often you pray or come to church, you will never escape it. It doesn’t matter how hard you try to fill it, you never will satisfy it.  We are all missing something in our lives. Our future depends on how we handle it.  The yearning to fill it can take over with an insatiable thirst for more.  More clothes, more money, more drugs, more alcohol, more work, more power.  I saved the worst for last.  Power.  We always want more.     

In part, the desire to fill what is missing and discover more is what makes us great.  It led us to explore mountains and oceans and outer space.  It led us to build nations and write constitutions and secure the pursuit of happiness for all of God’s children here on earth. 

Yet the same drive for more also makes us vulnerable.  If we allow ourselves to be fooled into thinking that we can fill our void by our own achievements, then we become King Ahab from today’s story, casting aside the needs of others in an unending quest to satisfy our own greedy desires. 

Ahab was a king from the line of David.  His father ruled for 100 years.  Ahab took the reins after his father died, ruling over the people with his wife Jezebel at his side.  In the story, it’s hard to distinguish one from another, as they feed off one another and act in each other’s name always seeking more and more and more from their people. 

Ahab sees a vineyard near his house which he’d like to turn into a garden.  Never mind that it’s a vineyard, not a garden.  Never mind that he already owns vineyards and gardens.  Never mind that the vineyard belongs to Naboth and was given to him by his father who got it from his father who got it from his father who got it as a gift from God to settle in the promised land many moons ago.  It was Naboth’s birthright, and Ahab asks him to forsake it on the king’s whim.  Ahab sees it, he wants it, and he goes to get it. 

He makes Naboth a handsome offer.  He says, “I’ll trade you your vineyard for a much bigger and better one.  Or, if you prefer, I’ll give you whatever price you want for yours.  You name the price.”  If someone came along and offered to trade you your house here in Ronceverte for a much bigger one they owned at the Greenbrier Sporting Club, wouldn’t you be tempted?  Or if they said to name your price and you could get ten times the value of your property, wouldn’t you be tempted? 

Surely, Naboth was.  But he confidently said no all the same.  He believed that particular land was a gift from God and to sell it would be to betray the gift of God and his family who cared for it for many generations.  So he said no.  To the king. 

In a very un-kingly moment, Ahab goes to his room and cries.  We just thought that was hysterical in Bible Study!  The big bad king goes to his room and sulks when the farmer tells him no. 

His wife, Jezebel, hatches a plan to get Ahab what he wants.  She uses Ahab’s name, calls for an assembly, seats two scoundrels by Naboth, has them accuse him of cursing God and king, and then they kill Naboth. 

Ahab comes out of his room, stops crying, and goes to fill that void  deep down in his soul the only way he knows how.  He goes to get his land now that Naboth is dead.  But when he arrives, God has sent the prophet Elijah…with a message. 

            “Have you killed?  Have you stolen land that is not yours?  I will bring disaster on you.” 

            Harsh words?  Yes.  The king was given power in order to care for and protect the people, not to oppress and kill them.  And God would not stand for it.  God told Ahab as clearly as possible through the prophet Ahab that he would pay for his sins. 

            Are these harsh words also a warning for us?  Yes.  Ahab is not the only self-centered, greedy human being to ever walk the planet.  Jezebel is not the first person to desire power, and she won’t be the last.  This is a warning for those who do hold power over peoples and nations to use that power for God’s good purposes, not for our own.  This is also a warning for us.  We may not rule over lands and countries, but we all have power over others.  And if we use that power unjustly, there will be dire consequences. 

            Friends, there is a limit in blessings.  Instead of trying to fill our voids over and over again with that which will not satisfy, let us learn to be content with ourselves as we are.  God created us with limits.  If that’s good enough for God, shouldn’t it be good enough for us?  Amen.          

June 5, 2016 Sermon: "A Place in the World"

Stephen Baldwin

OT: 1 Kings 17.17-24

NT: Luke 7.11-17

A Place in the World

                In the ancient world, people didn’t have retirement accounts; they had children.  Their children were their retirement.  With short life spans, no nursing homes, and no 401Ks, the only thing you could count on to care for you late in life was your child. 

                So who would care for the widow in today’s story?  Her husband had already died.  Jesus happened upon her son’s funeral as they were carrying the body in a casket through a small town.  Since they’re following Jewish burial customs, the town must have been Jewish.  Anybody paying attention would know what this woman now faced.  She was on her own.  That’s probably why the crowd in the funeral procession was so large.  The whole town came out to support her.  No job.  No spouse.  No children. No retirement account or savings.  She was destitute. 

                You might expect her to ask Jesus for help.  That’s how most healing stories go.  But she’s so blinded by grief that she doesn’t even see him.  He sees her.  He sees her situation.  He heals her son, he restores her fortunes, he gives them a house, he provides the boy a job…no, he doesn’t do those things.  This isn’t television and Jesus isn’t Oprah! 

He restores her son’s life.  That is something important and powerful and miraculous, but that is all he does.  He doesn’t give her the world.  He just gives her a place in it.  The rest is up to the boy and his mother. 

I officiated a wedding several months ago, and the groom said his own vows to the bride.  He made heartfelt vows that were quite beautiful, but one particular line caught my attention.  He told her, “I want to take care of you.  I want to provide for your every need.”  And when he said that, she melted.  Her eyes welled with tears, her face grew bright with a smile, and she melted. 

While I appreciate the sincerity of that vow, I question it.  As much as we’d all like to be taken care of by our spouse or our parents or our employers or by God, there is a blessing in limits. 

When Jesus encounters a destitute widow, he does not give her the world.  He gives her a place in it once again.  His assistance to her is limited.  It leaves a hole which she must fill in, which her son must fill in. 

I thought I knew how to handle money…until I went away to college.  After my first semester, I’d blown through my checking account.  Life in the big city is exciting after growing up in a small town.  There’s a blessing in limits.  I learned how to handle money after that.

Craig Barnes is the dean of Princeton Theological Seminary.  Last week he spoke to graduates about the blessing of limits.  He reminded them that when God created us--before we fell from grace--we were given a limitation.  Do anything you want…just don’t eat from that one tree.  Limits are supposed to be a blessing. 

So the next time you’ve had a bad day…the next time your joints creak a little louder…the next time you see that new thing you want so badly…the next time you have to wait in line longer than you’d expected…remember that God gave us limits from the start, for our own good. 

How do we know that?  Because the widow, her son, and her community didn’t expect Jesus to give them the world; they thanked him for giving them a place in it.  Thanks be to God for having a place in the world.  Amen.    

May 29, 2016 Sermon: "Healing Hurts"

Stephen Baldwin

OT: Psalm 96

NT: Luke 7.1-10

Healing Hurts  

            If a friend asks you for a favor, do you help?  Sure, of course.  If a friend of a friend asks for a favor, do you help?  Well, maybe.  Depends.  What if an enemy, or even a friend of an enemy, asks for your help?  Highly doubtful.   

            Who’s asking matters more than what they’re asking for, doesn’t it?  If your parent or spouse asks you to do something, you don’t have much choice.  You do it.  If a friend asks, you’re happy to help and put yourself on the line for them.  But putting ourselves on the line for someone we don’t know, well that’s a different matter.  And if that someone happens to be an enemy, then forget about it. 

I’m not talking out of school here, am I?  That’s human nature.  We are inclined to help our friends and we are not inclined to help our enemies.  That’s no secret or revelation.  It’s just the way things are.  But is it the way Jesus wants things to be? 

            Today’s reading comes just after much of Jesus’ main teachings—Sermon the Mount, Beatitudes, & so forth.  He’s taught the disciples how to be a Christian, and in our story he’s given an opportunity to show them when asked for a favor.

Verses 1-3.   Who is this centurion?  A centurion was an officer of the Roman army, put in charge of about 80 soldiers.  It was a middle management position. Anyone in that position would’ve been a Gentile, or a non-Jew.  Yet, surprisingly, he is respected by the Jewish community.  He knows elders in the church well enough to ask them for a favor, and they know him well enough to grant that favor.  A slave assigned to the centurion was gravely ill, and the centurion would stop at nothing to see the slave cured.  Why was this slave so highly valued?  We don’t know because the text doesn’t say.  And that’s a minor point compared to what the story’s purpose is. 

Verses 4-5.  The centurion’s friends go to Jesus, asking him for help.  They make their argument by saying, “He loves our people.”  Why would they have to say that?  Because we’re talking about a centurion--the local face of an occupying military force--who is by definition an enemy of the Jews.  The elders say although this man wears the uniform of their enemy, he is not their enemy.  After all, he put his unit of 80 men to work on the people’s behalf, building them a temple. 

Keep in mind Jesus was asked for these sorts of favors all the time.  People constantly stopped him asking for help.  The sick wanted Jesus to cure them; the blind wanted Jesus to make them see; the lame wanted Jesus to make them walk.  They asked for themselves.  But this centurion, this natural enemy of Jesus, asks for a favor not for himself but for his slave. 

Verses 6-8.  Apparently intrigued by the unique nature of the request, Jesus sets off on foot towards the centurion’s house.  Towards his enemy’s house.  An enemy who apparently has a heart.  Before he arrives the centurion sends his friends outside to say, “Don’t come in, for I’m not worthy to have you inside my house.”  But that’s not the end of it.  He’s not saying he doesn’t want Jesus’ help.  He just doesn’t think his house of worthy of Jesus’ presence.  So he continues, “I do know what it’s like to be in a chain of command.  I can tell someone to come, and they come.  I can tell them go, and they go.”  The implication is clear.  “You can command my slave’s life, and it will be done.” 

Verse 9.  Jesus is amazed at this man’s faith.  His enemy, a centurion, a Roman officer, places his faith in Jesus and says he believes that if Jesus orders the slave to be well, he will be well. 

Verse 10.  Jesus doesn’t visit the slave.  Doesn’t touch him.  Doesn’t even speak the word.  But the slave is well, for Jesus wills it.

If a friend asked you for a favor, you’d probably grant it.  But if an enemy asked, would you even consider it?  This is where the rubber hits the road.  This is where Christianity is put into practice, because until Christians act like Christ all we do is talk. 

Jesus taught his disciples earlier in Luke to love their enemies.  We’re all taught the same thing.  And it sounds great, but it’s nearly impossible to do.  So when Jesus finishes talking, he is presented with a live scenario of an enemy asking for a favor.  He grants it, showing that his love extends even to enemies, even to non-Jews, even to those who are outsiders to his faith.  Sometimes we read these stories so casually the radical nature of God’s will for our lives is lost on us.  Jesus doesn’t just talk about forgiving enemies; he heals enemies!  Jesus doesn’t just expect us to believe in forgiving enemies; he expects us to do it!      

A young slave’s life is restored not just by Jesus, but by an entire community who bands together, risking their own reputation and skin, to call in favors.  It takes a whole slew of people to make it work.    

Here’s the point.  Real healing hurts.  I’m not talking about miraculous healing & the stuff of fairy tales; I’m talking about real world, everyday healing in our broken relationships and our own broken souls.  I’m talking about enemies you have a hard time seeing in public and the enemy you sometimes don’t want to look at in the mirror.  I’m talking about what occupies our thoughts when we drive down the road and lay in bed at night.  Healing in those situations, with our enemies, means everyone involved has to give something up for it to work. 

It surely hurt Jesus to help the very man who oppressed his people, but he was willing to do it because the man showed faith and the community showed faith in the man.  Everyone sacrificed something for the greater good of helping someone in a world of hurt.  That is our calling as Christians today just the same as it was 2,000 years ago.  The names have changed.  So have the places…and the prices.  But our calling is just the same.  Love your neighbors.  Forgive your enemies.  Do favors for everyone, even if it hurts a little, because that’s what Jesus did.  Not just what he said to do.  What he did.  Amen.         

May 15, 2016 Sermon: "The Work of the Spirit"

Stephen Baldwin

NT: Acts 2.1-21

Pentecost: The Work of the Spirit 

             If I were to ask you which Christian celebrations were the holiest, what would you say?  Christmas, Easter, Mother’s Day, Good Friday.

            What about Pentecost?  Poor Pentecost is the red-headed stepchild of the Christian tradition, and I say that will all due respect since I am a red-headed, left-handed, stepchild!  What did Pentecost ever do to deserve being left out in the cold?  It is after all the birthday of the Christian church!  The day the Holy Spirit descended like a derecho from the western sky and swept across this world in Jesus’ absence.  Because of that, some argue it should fall after only Christmas and Easter in the hierarchy of holy days.  Yet we rarely do anything special to celebrate.  Why is that? 

            It could be for the simple reason that it hasn’t been special in the past.  We tend to be pretty traditional people, and if we haven’t developed a tradition of celebrating Pentecost in a special way…then it never rises to that level of sacredness.  

            Or…maybe it’s because we’re afraid.  Now, I know…we’re West Virginians…we’re not afraid of anything!  But I think we just might be scared of the Holy Spirit.  The birth of a baby on Christmas isn’t scary; it’s reason to rejoice!  The resurrection of Jesus on Easter isn’t scary; it’s hope incarnate!  But the arrival of the Holy Ghost, here on earth; that’s scary.  Who is it?  Where is it?  What is it?  That’s the story of Pentecost we’ve just read in Acts.

            Jesus left his disciples.  He promised not to leave them orphaned.  He promised to send a helper.  But his work was done, and they were left on their own.  If you worked with a partner everyday for years, and your partner suddenly left, never to return, you’d probably feel lost as well.  Jesus’ work was done, and now it was time for the disciples to realize they were powerful enough to continue his work.

            He told them to wait for the Spirit.  Amazingly, they listened.  They waited in the locked doors of the house.  I know the details of the story get a little murky at that point.  But suffice it to say that the Spirit moved among them, allowing them to understand one another.  While they came from different cultures and spoke different languages, somehow they were able to understand one another by way of deeper truths.    

            It was such a scene that bystanders could only imagine one possible explanation.  They must be drunk!  Peter stepped forward to try and interpret for the people what was happening.  He tells them that God is at work in this world, bringing all people together.  Times have changed.  New possibilities abound.  God’s spirit unites us despite what we think divides us.

            What’s so scary about that?  Because the Spirit doesn’t blow like a gentle breeze on a hot summer day; it blows like a violent wind, upsetting our things and our thinking.  It doesn’t comfort us; it challenges us.  It doesn’t speak with the still, small voice of God; it shouts in different languages!  It’s no wonder we don’t celebrate Pentecost.  Pentecost knocks our socks off, and the Holy Spirit’s arrival is enough to scare any sensible person. 

            The real kicker, the deep down fear that’s so scary to the disciples and to us today, is not that we are supposed to continue Jesus’ work with the help of the Spirit.  The real fear is that we are capable of continuing Jesus’ work.  It’s much easier, much more comfortable, to look at the world and say, “What a mess,” and leave it at that.  It’s much harder to look at the world and say, “What can I do?”  It’s even harder to look at our own lives and say, “What can the Holy Spirit and I do to make it better?” 

I read a fascinating article this week about why people leave their jobs.  It’s usually not because of the work or the company or even the pay.  It’s usually because of the boss.  Does that sound right to you?  Sounds right to me.  One of my favorite jobs, in terms of the actual work, was at the golf course bag room when I was a teenager.  I loved the work!  Received good pay!  But I dreaded going to work everyday, because of the guy who “managed” us, and by that I mean the guy who sat in a chair and yelled at us all day.              There’s a guy in France who’s actually suing his former boss, because he bored him to bad health.  By some counts, as many as 60-70% of all employees are disengaged at work.  In other words, they’re not excited about what they do.  And it’s largely because the person who manages them does it badly. 

What in the world does that have to do with Pentecost?  The same thing that’s happening to most workers today is what’s happening to the Holy Spirit.  We’re not utilizing our helper, the Holy Spirit, to its full potential.  We’re locking it in a cubicle and leaving it there rather than allowing it full access to our lives!  That’s what’s happened to Pentecost. 

            The Holy Spirit is God’s presence in this world.  Like the wind, you may not always see it…but you can certainly hear it, feel it, and sense it.  The really hard part…is utilizing it!

            To celebrate Pentecost this week, pray about your openness to the Spirit’s presence.  Invite it in.  Then use it.  Ask for advice.  Take the challenge to do the thing you could not do on your own but need to do and can with the Spirit’s help.  Make this mess of a world a better place, not by yourself, but by the grace of God’s presence through the power of the Holy Spirit.  Amen!     

May 8, 2016 Sermon: "The Hard Thing"

Stephen Baldwin

NT: Acts 16.16-40

The Hard Thing

            A husband and wife are driving down the road on vacation.  “Careful!” the wife says, “You almost hit the sign!  Speaking of which, the speed limit is 35. Slow down!  Is that a Target over there?  Turn around.  Not there, it says no left turns!  That’s a curb you’re about to hit…”

            The husband stops the car and says, “What’s is going on today?”  His wife replies, “I wanted you to know how it feels when you bust in the kitchen right before dinner and play chef. 

            Whether you’re driving or cooking, it’s dangerous to be doing too many things at once.  When your attention is drawn in a dozen different directions, you’re likely to miss a thing or two along the way. 

            The same is true of today’s passage from Acts.  So much is happening at one time that I think we need to take it slowly, verse by verse.  Let’s begin.

            Verse 16.  The “we” here is a group of early Christian leaders: Paul, Silas, Timothy, and Luke, who is thought to be narrating the story.  They’re fresh off the Greyhound after traveling to town on a missionary journey.  Philippi was a Roman territory, so they’re still in Roman lands.  They meet a young slave girl who is someone’s slave.  She apparently had an above-average connection to the Big Guy Upstairs and, like all the most famous televangelists, they turned that into quite the cash cow.  She told people their fortunes and they paid her owner in Roman coin. 

            Verse 17.  When she saw Paul and his rag-tag group of missionaries, she immediately knew they were different and latched onto them like kids on an ice cream truck.  She screamed out for everyone to hear, “God sends them here to save you!”  Keep in mind these locals trust the woman, so when she speaks people will listen. 

            Verse 18.  But poor ol’ Paul, even though she sees their true and decent intent, doesn’t know how to have a good time and gets annoyed with her.  He commands the spirit who gives her such a good connection to leave, and it does. 

            Verse 19.  Paul may be feeling better, but the women’s employers are not.  They’ve just lost a huge chunk of change.  Out of revenge, they drag Paul and Silas to the judges.  (Luke and Timothy must have been out playing golf.) 

            Verses 20-21.  Isn’t it funny how people change their stories?  The slave-owners don’t say why they really brought Paul and Silas to the judge.  They really came because Paul and Silas interrupted their business.  They got in their pocketbook.  But instead of just saying that, which might make them sound…greedy, they make up some story about them disturbing the Roman peace.  They say, “These foreign men have come into our country and disrespected our way of life!”  Now that will preach in any society, won’t it!  There’s a powerful sermon in their greed masked as hate, but that’s not the sermon today.  We need to keep on marching, for the story is far from over. 

            Verses 22-23.  Everybody went along with the story, so it must have been more acceptable to be a racist than a millionaire.  Paul and Silas were beaten mercilessly.  Do you know what a flogging is?  I could tell you, but you don’t want to know.  It’s brutal.  And violent.  A lot like lynching.  And they should’ve gone to a hospital, but instead they’re taken to jail, locked up, and ordered under supervision. 

            Verses 24-25.  For all they’ve been through, Paul & Silas show remarkable resilience.  In spite of their pain, they push through by praising God, singing hymns and saying prayers.  There’s another great sermon in that moment.  No matter what you’re going through, perhaps especially when times are toughest, praise God.  Count your blessings, name them one by one!  That’s a great sermon, but that’s not this one.  The story is about to take a dramatic turn.

            Verse 26.  God enters the scene, and God is clearly not happy with what has happened in this Philippian town.  After the earthquake, Paul and Silas are no longer shackled or caged.  But they don’t go anywhere.  Why not run?  Perhaps they couldn’t after their beating.  Or perhaps they had more work to do.

            Verse 27.  The poor man is ready to commit suicide.  He sees the open doors and assumes that means the prisoners, which he had been personally assigned to oversee, escaped.  If he follows through with this, it will only make a bad situation worse. 

            Verses 28-29.  Paul and Silas hadn’t left after all, and they selflessly stopped the man.  It would’ve been in their best interest to let their jailer kill himself, but they would do no such thing.  This man was a child of God, and our God has no interest in bloodthirsty revenge.  There’s a great sermon there.  The man who had just been their jailer now was their disciple.  But the story’s not through yet.

            Verses 30.  Why would he bring them outside?  The door’s already open.  The shackles are already off.  I think it’s because they couldn’t walk on their own.  They’d been beaten mercilessly by the same man who now aided them.  The same man who now wants to know how he can be saved? 

            Verses 31-34.  In the middle of the night, the jailer takes his own prisoners to his own house filled with his own family.  They tend their wounds, and the disciples invite them into the Christian life.  And they were all baptized.  Together.  At night.  After an earthquake.  In spite of legal recourse.  And then they ate. 

            Verses 35-36.  Well, that deescalated quickly, didn’t it?  This is all going to end quietly after all that fuss. Or is it? 

            Verse 37.  Paul studied the law.  He knew they’d been beaten and imprisoned without legal cause.  He wasn’t satisfied with simply being freed after being wronged; he wanted those responsible to have to publicly admit their wrong by escorting the missionaries out of town. 

            Verses 38-40.   So they did as Paul requested.  They escorted him and Silas out of town. 

            What are we to make of this story of slaves and earthquakes and violence and salvation?  As I’ve said, there are many sermons in this story, but what speaks to me most on this Mother’s Day, is what connects it all.  Each character in the story, at one point or another, does the hard thing.  The right thing.  Even if it costs them something. 

            The servant girl who tells the truth.  Paul and Silas who save the jailer.  The jailer’s family who cares for the prisoners.  The authorities who admit their mistake.  Everyone in the story faces at least one impossible situation, decides to do the hard thing, and faces the consequences even at their own expense. 

            That sticks out to me today especially, because that is what mothers do.  That is what grandmothers and aunts and church ladies do.  They do the right thing, even if it’s the hard thing.  May we be inspired by their example this day and always.  Amen.   

May 1, 2016 Sermon: "Peace...what's that?"

Stephen Baldwin

OT: Psalm 67

NT: John 14.23-29

Peace...what's that? 

            This week I had a dream, a version of which I have all the time.  It was 10:30am on a Sunday morning.  I was here at the church doing what I normally do—teaching Sunday School, choir practice, greeting folks, setting out people’s paper copies of the sermon, the CD for recording, doing whatever last minute things always need to be done.  But there was something wrong.  We needed communion cups or offering plates, I can’t remember exactly what, so I ran to a nearby church to get some. 

            When I got there, they were moving a couch.  They needed help, so I helped.  Then I talked to a few folks and tried to find whatever had brought me there in the first place.  Someone went to get it for me, and before I knew it the clock said it was already 11:05. 

            Panic overtook me like a tsunami coming ashore.  I sprinted back towards the church in my Sunday best.  But getting back to the church wasn’t as easy as I hoped.  I just kept running, and I couldn’t make my way back.  Doors would slam in my face, cars would block the road, and something always kept me from my destination.  I was exhausted, my watch said 11:20, and I was sure that if I ever got back to the church you would rightfully fire me for not being here the most important time of the week. 

And then I woke up.  In a cold sweat.  Heart racing.  Panic-stricken. 

            If  it didn’t happen frequently, it would be funny.  I’m a worrier.  Anxiety seems to come as easily to me as biscuits do to gravy.  Those of you who are like me are now anxious on my behalf.  Thank you.  And those of you who don’t have anxieties rightfully think those of us who do are off our rocker. 

            Anxiety is an odd thing.  The Bible makes it clear that it’s about as useful to us as Judas was to Jesus, but then again…Judas did outlive Jesus.  Anxiety and worry have a way of sticking around, even when we know they’re no good for us. 

            I bring all of this up because the disciples are dealing with their own anxieties and worries in this week’s passage.  Jesus is about to leave them, and they’re filled with uncertainties.  He has promised not to orphan them.  He has promised the send the Holy Spirit to aid them.  He has promised God will not abandon them.  But still, they worry.  Life with Jesus has been stressful enough; will life after Jesus be even worse?   

            In today’s reading from John, Jesus tries to assuage their anxieties. Read John 14.23-29. 

            What is the opposite of anxiety?  Peace.  “Peace I leave with you.”  Peace is the opposite of anxiety, which is what makes it so fleeting in a society so overloaded with information it’s not hard to find something to be anxious about.  We don’t have to try hard, do we? 

            Yet for Jesus, over two thousand  years ago, it was of great importance that his disciples not be anxious.  Not be nervous.  Not be fearful of life after his death.   Why did that matter so much to Jesus?  Because he came to give us peace. 

            Let’s think for a minute about what kind of peace Jesus left us.  The passage says it’s not the peace the world gives.  Peace in the world’s sense is an absence of conflict.  Since we’re talking about dreams, that kind of peace is the stuff of beauty queen dreams.  Peace in the sense of an absence of conflict if a fairy tale.  It won’t happen in this world. 

The peace Jesus gives us different.  In Greek, the language of the New Testament, the word used for “peace” means “the tranquil state of a soul, content with its earthly lot.”  That’s a totally different concept than the world’s peace.  The peace Jesus gives is not dependent on the absence of conflict.  Rather, it assumes there will be conflict.  You will have reasons to worry, reasons to be anxious, reasons to be stressed.  Sometimes even good ones.  But you don’t have to if you find a tranquil state in your soul, where you are content with your earthly lot. 

Some of you may be thinking, as we asked in Bible Study, “But how?”  The disciples could look him in the eye and hear his promise of peace yet even they didn’t get it!  How do we get that peace Jesus promises?  I need to end this sermon, for heaven’s sake, and you know that I don’t have the answer—I worry even in my dreams! 

So I did what we all do when we don’t have the answer; I searched for answers.  I read everything I could get my hands on this week about anxiety and peace.  Here are a few helpful hints I learned from a combination of theologians and psychologists and sociologists.   Perhaps one or two will help you. 

One.  When you have a big problem causing you anxiety and a lack of peace, solve it.  Rationally discern if it’s fixable and how you would go about doing it. 

Two.  Embrace chaos and conflict.  Realize that it is the way of the world.  You cannot control everything.  So why try? 

Three.  Pray.  When you get stressed, pray.  When you get anxious, pray.  Stop what you are doing and thinking, go to a private space, and tell God all about it. 

Four.  Smile.  Even if you have to fake it.  Make yourself happy even for a moment and see how that changes you.  If it helps, carry a photo of someone or something that always gives you peace, and pull it out whenever you need to. 

Five.  Be thankful.  Instead of dwelling on what is bothering you, count all the things that bless you.  By focusing on gratitude, our entire outlook on life changes.  There is literally no room for worry when we are grounded in gratitude to God. 

These are just a few examples of ways to move beyond anxieties which I found this week.  I’m going to try them, and I invite you to do the same.  I worry they won’t work very well, but…ha ha. 

One that wasn’t mentioned is what we’re about to do, and I have always found it awfully peaceful--taking communion.  During prayer time after we’ve eaten our bread and while we’re holding our cup, let’s focus on praying for Christ’s peace.  Peace he left us long ago; peace we still struggle to hang onto now; peace we still seek earnestly every day.  Amen.