You want me to love whom?!?

Scriptures for Sunday, July 8th 2012

Mark 5:21-43

2 Samuel 1:1, 17-27

Chris Simpson is an intimidating man.  

“At 6 feet and 245 pounds, he fills out clothing with authority. He does not think his tattoos draw notice, but they are hard to miss.

"PURE HATE," is tattooed across his knuckles. His forearms read "BLOOD" and "HONOR." There are four battle-axes in the shape of a swastika on his left shoulder with the words "Supreme White Power" over them. There are several wolf's hooks, a Nazi symbol. The iconic lightning bolts associated with Nazi Germany's Schutzstaffel, the SS, are above his right wrist. There's a Nazi war bird on his chest. There are tattoos of a Valkyrie, a Viking, and Thor with swastikas drawn in his helmet. There are 42 in all, he thinks. 

Simpson was a member of Battalion 14, a white pride group with supporters in Michigan. His involvement in the white pride movement began in a place of pain, frustration, anger, and confusion. On April 28, 2000, Chris and Misty Simpson lost their first child, Alexis Nicole.

Born with open spina bifida, a buildup of fluid in the brain, clubbed feet, and no intestines or stomach, Alexis lived only two and a half hours.”

Recently married and struggling to scratch out a life in Danville, Va., Alexis' death sent Simpson reeling.

"I was feeling a lot of anger and hatred, and I was confused," Simpson said. "I just built up this hatred, or what I thought was hatred."

Hate consumes.  It burns like a wild fire- consuming the good and the bad, trash and treasures, mansions and mobile homes.  Its power is devastating- once unleashed, almost unquenchable.

And yet, hate seems like almost a natural reaction to things.  If we are wronged, does not society implicitly tell us that the righteous thing is to strike back?  Even as we are appalled at the manifestation of Chris Simpson’s hate, even as we object to his choosing to hate black people after the tragic death of his infant daughter, don’t we get at some level his desire to release himself in rage?  

Letting things go, on the other hand, is a mark for cowards and push-overs.  Hate.  Anger.  Never letting go.  These seem like the hallmarks for strength in our society.

So, here we have David.  He hears of the death of his rival- King Saul.  Saul tormented David.  Ruined his life really.  Drove him into exile.  Hunted him like a dog.  Tried to kill him numerous times.  And David morns his death.  He weeps and cries 

“How the mighty have fallen!..You mountains of Gilboa, let there be no dew or rain upon you, nor bounteous fields!...Saul and Jonathan, beloved and lovely! In life and in death they were not divided; they were swifter than eagles, they were stronger than lions.”

This doesn’t seem fake.  This seems like real, legitimate grief.

But- how?  How does David mourn for the very man who tormented him?

In Eugene Peterson’s Leap over a Wall, he writes- “Saul hated David.  Saul chased David.  Saul defrauded David.  Al those wilderness years, David lived in a world sovereign with Saul’s hate.  Or so it seemed.  Danger, hardship, loneliness, loss- all because of Saul.  But there was something else going on that was more significant that Saul’s hatred of David, and that was God’s anointing of Saul.  What God did for Saul far outweighed anything that Saul did to David.  And that is what David chose to deal with.  David chose to be influenced by and shaped under that sovereignty.  God’s grace in Saul’s life, not Saul’s hate in David’s life, is what gave content to David’s prayers and decisions.  Saul made life difficult for David, but he didn’t destroy him.  If David had allowed Saul’s hate to determine his life, he would have been destroyed.  He maybe wouldn’t have been killed, but he certainly would have been damned- reduced, cramped, and constricted by vengeance.”

In other words, David chose to see the world through God’s grace instead of Saul’s hate.  He wouldn’t give up seeing Saul as one of God’s beloved creation.  He held on to that as a sort of antidote to allowing hatred and despair from overwhelming his life.

Did not give in to the temptation to take revenge

One day when Saul was chasing David in the desert, David and his men hid in a dark cave.  As Saul and his army passed, Saul entered into the cave alone to relieve himself.  The cave was so dark that he had no idea that David and his men were so close.  David crept up to Saul.  The temptation to finish it there, to kill Saul and end this conflict must have been so great.  In the story, David instead chooses to cut off a bit of Saul’s shirt.  After Saul leaves, David calls out, holds up the fabric to Saul, and demonstrates that he has chosen mercy over hate, peace over violence.  This is the path of the great King David.

But what happens if you don’t quite have the strength of David?  What happens if you have already given in to the hate?  Chris Simpson gave himself over to the white pride movement and yet was able to emerge out of it  What led Simpson to renounce this hate?  It was in finding a loving savior, and being nurtured by a church community, that gave him his release.  Six months after joining the church- he was baptized.

“In April, Simpson stood in the baptismal pool at New Horizons Community Church. He wore a white tank top and white shorts, tattoos on full display for the congregation.

Pastor Jerry Lyon placed his hand on Simpson.

"God I know that there are things from his past life that need to be buried. And God, today we enjoy the opportunity. We take glory in that opportunity to bury that old life and to say to you God, I am a new creation in Jesus Christ," Lyon prayed.

With Simpson holding his nose, Lyon lowered him back into the water. The congregation applauded. 

"Any kind of burdens I carried before, I let them go. There's no need to carry things that happen in the past," Simpson later said. "I forgave all those who have wronged me and asked for forgiveness from those that I have wronged."

The waters of baptism washed away his sin.  But that doesn’t mean it was suddenly easy.  There will still scars to deal with.

Chris Simpson’s hate was literally written on his body- it was in his tattoos.  Removing that hate was going to be a long process that was very painful.

“Tattoo removal takes years. A single tattoo can take several treatments to disappear. 

Simpson wanted Amy Sowers, a nurse with the clinic, to blast off all the tattoos from his arms. When she was done there, he wanted her to start on his stomach, his neck and his legs.

Sowers started on the "H" of "HATE" scrawled across the knuckles of Simpson left hand. Twenty-four seconds later, the first pass was done. The skin instantly swelled up pink.

Simpson said it felt like someone poured acid on his skin. 

"I don't care if you're a Marine, that right there will break you," he said.”

But, we believe in a God who is stronger than hate.  A savior who can heal that hurt in our heart.  Our Gospel lesson today proclaimed a Jesus who brings the dead back to life- surely that same Jesus can heal the deadness in our own hearts.

Chris Simpson saw the destructive influence hate was having on his life.  And he was led to Jesus to find healing and hope.  That same healing and hope is available to you no matter what has happened in your life.  The grace of God still shapes the world, even if your life has seemed to be surrounded with human hate and misery.  The bad news is that working on those issues- being healed of hate so you can honestly grieve the death of one of God’s children, will be painful.  But the good news is that with Christ, we can find our way through to healing and wholeness.  If we are faithful, we’ll find that it is not hate, but God’s love, that abounds.

Eclipsing the Light

Scriptures for Sunday, February 19th

2 Corinthians 4:3-6

Mark 9:2-10

Sermon

So here is the scene.  Peter and James and John follow Jesus on yet one more retreat into the mountains to pray.  They have done this multiple times-  as much as Jesus seems to love people, he also seems to need a lot of time in prayer and meditation.  As they reach the summit, the disciples begin looking for someplace comfortable to rest.  They know that Jesus tends to pray intensely so they better get settled.

But then, something spectacular happens.  The air seems to get- heavy.  Suddenly the crickets stop chirping, the birds grow silent, all grows still.  And then there is this brilliant light that seems to fill the sky.  It doesn’t seem to be coming from above  Peter looks for Jesus, and he sees that the light is actually coming from Jesus.  But wait, its not just Jesus, there seems to be three figures there.

Is that, could it be, its Moses!  The founder of the faith!  The man who saw God face to face...who brought the law...the one who saved us from Egypt...the one who led us to the promised land.  How on earth can he be here?

But wait, is that...Elijah?  The greatest prophet of all time?  The one for whom we set a place each passover?  Wasn’t this supposed to mean something-  oh, right!  When Elijah returns, this is to mean that the Messiah has come.  It’s Elijah!  Our wait is over...the time has finally come.

James thinks to himself-  we are here.  The greatest moment in the history of the world has come- and we are hear to witness it.  This is amazing!  I wonder what they are talking about.  I’m going to strive to hear.  Nothing could disturb this moment.

Jesus.  Hey Jesus!!!  Yo, over here.  Its Peter.  Wow, this is great.  Amazing.  Should we set up a couple tents for you or something?  Wow.  What can we do?!?

As I picture this scene, the thing that pops to mind was a recent story out of New York.  The New York Phil was playing Mahler’s ninth symphony.  One of the remarkable things about this piece is that it ends so quietly.  There is incredible tension in the air.  You can literally hear a pin drop.  It is an extremely intimate experience.  And in the midst of this brilliant tension- a cell phone went off.  The spell was broken.  The moment lost.

This is what I picture when I read the story.  A brilliant light.  Moses.  Elijah.  Jesus.  And Peter couldn’t shut up for just a few minutes and take it in?  Lest you think Peter had something important to say, scripture even says that he was terrified and didn’t know what to say.  But his response wasn’t to sit in silence.  It was to speak up, to draw attention, to suddenly make it about him.

Luckily, our God is generous and won’t allow a momentary interruption like that to completely derail the moment.  Jesus is indeed transformed...God still speaks-  But note what he says-  This is my son...listen to HIM.

We are a culture that really struggles to listen.  And I say this as one who is extremely guilty.  I often find my mind wandering in the midst of a conversation.  I am often thinking about what to say next, what I have to do next, what I think about what the person is saying.  Rarely am I able to completely and utterly focus on the other.  

And yet, perhaps the most important skill for a Christian is their ability to listen, to pay attention, to be sensitive to what God is doing around them.  Jesus was being transformed on top of that mountain, but Peter was so busy trying to say something, to do something, that he ran the risk of completely missing what was going on.  

I think that’s sometimes a natural reaction when something unexpected happens.  You can’t quite process it, so you try something, anything, to try to ground yourself again.  But it can be that very process of seeking out solid ground that can cause you to miss what is really important.

I have been reading lately about a recent time in our church history when I think we did just that.  In the 1950s and 60s in America, something remarkable was happening.  For years, whites and blacks lived almost entirely apart.  And especially in the south, whites received privileged status, blacks got the crumbs that were left over.  

But then something began to change.  African Americans, led in large part by clergy, decided that they would no longer accept second class status.  Invoking the doctrine that they too were created by God and imbued by the divine spirit, they demanded to be treated as equals.

In When the Church Bell Rang Racist, David Collins details that the largely white Methodist church in Alabama fought desegregation bitterly.  They advocated against change, harassed pastors who dared to sympathize with blacks, and organized ushers to be posted outside churches to keep out blacks.

As the world changed, and indeed, as God ushered in a new era of justice and equality, the white church did everything they could to distract from God’s movement and to call attention to itself.  It ground its heals into the earth and said I will not move.  

Even as the rest of the church adjusted to this newly transformed life, Alabama and a few other conferences would not budge.  In an episcopal address in 1964, the bishops declared

“The official pronouncements of The Methodist Church on the race question are clear.  That any minister or layman in The Methodist Church should have any question as to where we stand on this issue, is inconceivable...We are dedicated to the proposition that all men are of eternal worth in the eyes of God.  Prejudice against any person because of color or social status is a sin...We believe that this General Conference should insist upon the removal from its structure of any mark of racial segregation and we should do it without wasting time...It will cost some white Methodists the pain of rooting out deep-seated and long-held convictions concerning racial relations.  But God Almighty is moving toward a world of interracial brotherhood so speedily and so irresistibly, that to hesitate is to fight against God and be crushed.”

God was changing the world and it was time to get out of God’s way.  I understand to a degree what whites in Alabama might have been feeling.  Their entire world had been turned upside down.  They had likely lost their grounding.  But it is their response to the change that was inexcusable.  Perhaps they would have been best served to spend more time on their knees in prayer.  Perhaps if instead of doing something, anything, they could have sensed the momentous change God was making in their presence.  Even if they ultimately wouldn’t have been able to figure out what to do, simply doing nothing would have been far better then the something they tried.

My friends, we live in a world where God seems to be stirring things up again.  Society is changing quickly all around us.  And truth be told, a lot of the time, we haven’t a clue what to do.  The Methodist church as a whole wrestles with this.  They know our numbers as a denomination are declining.  So they have launched this whole Call to Action program that is designed to restore our vitality.  I’m sympathetic to the report.  I think it has many good suggestions.  But I will be honest, I get anxious every time I see it presented.

I think it is because of that focus on action.  Because truth be told, like many other clergy, like many laity, I’m still somewhat clueless how to respond to this changing world, this changing community.  I know we can’t simply dig our heals in and hope it changes back, but I also fight the urge to do something, anything, to try and adapt.  I fight the urge because I still struggle to sense what our specific purpose is here.

My friends, we are seeing some rapid shifts just in this church.  While attendance has not changed dramatically, we know we have struggle to attract new members and struggled to help our current members to grow in faith, attendance and discipleship.  In  the last 2 months we’ve seen a great reduction in giving which threatens to put a real strain on our ability to engage in all the ministry we had hoped for.  We are not yet in crisis, but I have to admit to being anxious.

Something is changing...and I don’t yet know what it is, and how to respond.  But I want us to try to do something-  unlike Peter, lets try to be silent for a bit and take it in.  To try and sense what God is doing and to not just speak quickly and loudly and distract from the transformative work God is doing in our midst.  Thus, at least through the Lenten season, I’m going to be asking those who chose to remain after worship for a bit, after we great one another and thank our guests for coming, to return to the sanctuary for a time of pray.  Of seeking.  Of asking God what we are called to do.  Let us seek to hear God’s spirit move in our midst...to open our eyes to the light around us.  Let us learn to listen.