Sunday May 13, 2012 – Is This Really Necessary?

Gene Derryberry, Interim Pastor

Gospel:John 15:9-17
Is This Really Necessary?

Several of you have pointed out to me that it must be hard to come to Watts Street as the interim pastor at this time. I want to be sure you know that there is no other place I would rather serve at this time. Watts Street is a wonderful place for me to not only serve, but also to learn, to be with you in ministry, and to hopefully make new friends.

First impressions and the first week are important though. Your Interim Search Committee asked me 14 questions during our initial interview. I thought “this is a place for long conversations,” and then they reminded me we would take only one hour to complete my answer to all 14 questions. My first impression: “We need to talk, but it shouldn’t take all night.” My return visit introduced me to your wonderful staff. Another great first impression. And then your rollicking Wednesday night suppers and program. Then my first day this previous Monday, the office was clean and freshly painted and my home away from home was ready, too. I am so deeply grateful to be at Watts Street. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

I recall wanting to make a good first impression in 1984. I was called as interim minister to First Christian Church in Morgantown, WV, another great university town. The WVU art department was Virginia’s first assistance professor position. The church was near downtown and the university so I walked to the chaplains’ office to visit. Over the door it said “Bennett House.” Inside was an inscription: Morgantown native Cpl. Thomas W. Bennett (medic, 1st Battalion, 14th Infantry) was killed in the Chu Pa Region of Pleiku Province on 11 February 1969, while trying to save the life of a soldier. For three days, he had been providing medical aid to wounded soldiers under heavy gunfire. Tom Bennett laid down his life for his army buddies just one month after arriving in Vietnam. He was one of a handful of Conscientious Objectors who serving as medics would receive the Medal of Honor. When his mother received the award she said: my son gave his life for his friends…the blood of the martyrs is the seed of the peace movement. Sometimes it is necessary to break new ground by speaking your mind.

In SOLITUDE AND SERVICE – Mel preached: “In a sense the coming transition is a time for clearing out brush and stumps for some new ground—where new crops will grow. When you plant, you’re tossing tiny seeds into “new ground,” seeds that will grow IN THE SILENCE. It takes patience to be a seed sower, a gardener. It requires good planning, planting, and then patience and waiting and trusting.” 

I agree. It is necessary to prepare new ground where the pain and frustration of this past week will be the seed of a Baptist movement that welcomes all persons who profess Jesus as their friend and a deeper connection with God the creator of all persons.

In Emptiness and Fullness on Feb. 19 –Mel stated: “One of my hopes for the future of WSBC is that you continue to be a vital, authentic, caring community; that compassion and mission will always be top priority; that worship and prayer will deepen at the center of this faith community; that you continue to grow as individuals, always open to being changed by the Gospel and the love and challenge that emerges in this community. This place is humming now, humming with grace. I hope that you continue to be open to the amazing grace and goodness that is so evident in the life of this congregation. The goal for our individual lives and our life together is that we will be pumping on all cylinders. That’s always been one of my hopes for this church—that all our cylinders (worship, caring community, Christian education, and mission) are functioning at optimal levels. But we also need periodic repair, re-alignment. We need to be replenished, re-filled. But there are times when we feel more emptiness than fullness; there are times when we feel inadequate, incomplete, un-ready. Here is the paradox. The more we can empty ourselves, the more we will be ready to receive fullness. The more we can let go of our worries, troubles, bothers, opinions, concerns, anxieties, the more space we make for the fullness.”

For example, Mother’s Day celebrations are paradoxical. The dichotomy ofemptiness/fullness of this day for so many persons is expressed well by Anne Lamott in her writing about her relationship with her mother and her son. Lamott fleshes out her writing about mother and son through her narrative laced with love and anger, frustration and hope and ultimately grace. She tells the reader about a Mother’s Day when she and her brothers were young and her mother and father were still married. A time before the family pain that she grew up absorbing was so very evident to her. Her mother was still in bed and the family prepared breakfast, picked flowers and then gently woke the sleeping mother. Her Mom glared at them, pulled the covers over her head and said: Is this really necessary? Lamott reminds us in her writing about the death of her mother that letting go helps each person to get ready to receive … letting go will open us to grace.

In much the same way, when Mel preaches about WSBC pumping on all cylinders he speaks to me of the energy of grace. At an impromptu Peace and Reconciliation gathering Wednesday night, Amy helped me to step back, get in touch with my feelings, reflect, and listen when she led us in a responsive Psalm before beginning the discussion about the results of the primary vote on Amendment One. Especially during this time of preparing the good soil I hope that all of our committees, mission groups, etc. use as much time for the inward journey as they do for the outward journey. This is really necessary.

In Solitude and Service Mel spoke about his retirement or… commencement and his hope that Watts Street will move through silence into community and ultimately mission…especially the “child care initiative”…this and other initiatives need good new ground in order to thrive. I believe that the positive Amendment One vote may be the bitter fruit that paradoxically will help us to prepare. Even bitter fruit has seeds! As we recognize in an ever deeper and more meaningful way that neither gender nor government nor church should legislate marriage, we will grow in our understanding that all people, not just the people who can afford it, need childcare. That which is right has never been easy. We must enter the tabernacle in the wilderness and listen and enter into conversation letting the Holy Spirit do her work among us.

Mel encouraged us to be in the sanctuary, in places of silence and reverence, listening and open to grace. Often the church in pastoral transition is called a wilderness experience. In that Exodus wilderness experience there was a special place, the Tabernacle. But the tabernacle courtyard with its linen fence was not only a place for prayer. It was a place for meeting and conversation. In order to not only continue to be a place that pumps on all cylinders turning the energy of grace into the action of justice we need to clarify our vision, God’s vision, of WSBC for the future.Commitment to God’s creativity will help us stretch.

The “blood of the martyrs is the seed of the church” where “a friend lays down her life for her friends” is a description that often brings to mind Oscar Romero, a gutsy Roman Catholic Archbishop, in El Salvador. His baptism or christening day was May 11. As a priest of the people of San Salvador, Romero championed democracy is a totalitarian country. He was continually warned about serving publically in a church where all were welcomed. He often replied it is necessary that I be here.

Because of that love, we can trust the One who knows us intimately and cares for us tenderly, who holds our very lives in that care. We are known and held and loved, but we are commanded, too, to belong to one another, to care for one another, to love one another. That is the kind of commitment, not blind obedience but trusting commitment, that Jesus inspires and even models, for he has lived his own life in trusting commitment to God. This kind of love and trust is where we live our lives and live out our faith.

Studies indicate that a growing number of young (and not-so-young) people think of the church as hateful, judgmental, and hypocritical (loving and trustful). It is not surprising, then, that a growing number of people do not claim any religious affiliation, even though they think of themselves as “spiritual.” (It’s Not ALL About You!) Often young people today as missionaries in generations past, think about commitment to God as living lives of service. A strong, growing WSBC is necessary for Walltown’s future, for Duke University, for Durham, and especially North Carolina. Sow the seed. Into the good soil. And begin the conversation as we turn to the Spirit.

Habitual Sheep and Deputy Shepherds

Jim Drennan

April 29, 2012

Watts Street Baptist Church

Have you ever been asked to do something a long time into the future, and it seems easy at the time? 

When Diane asked me to preach a long time ago I said yes willingly. I consider this a sacred place, and it would give me a chance to double my theological arsenal. So I said yes, but I didn’t pay close attention to the lectionary readings. It would be something different, unusual and I could find something new to talk about. Sermons should be about something new. But then I focused on the texts. The 23^rd psalm is not new or unfamiliar. I don’t know about you but I cannot remember a time that I didn’t know it. Where I grew up you had to learn three things: John 3:16, the Lord’s Prayer, and the 23^rd Psalm. Other stuff was secondary. So since I have had a memory, “The lord is my shepherd, I shall not want” has been a part of my identity. So much for having a “new” text.

But the Lectionary imposes a useful discipline. So I began to think anew about that scripture. It helped a lot that in my Sunday School class a few weeks ago we spent two Sunday mornings talking about today’s Gospel lesson. Jesus said “I am the Good Shepherd. I know my own and my own know me.” 

We say around here when we are baptized that Jesus is Lord. And we said this morning that the Lord is My Shepherd. I guess I could stop there. It seems neat and tied together tightly. Jesus made it explicit--He is the Good Shepherd.

But that would get us out way too early, and even though my only other sermon ran long, Idon’t want to give you less than your money’s worth today. So I want to think a little bit about what it means for Jesus to be my shepherd, and what my role is in that drama. There are only two parts, shepherd and sheep. The casting call will be soon.

How do we know Jesus, our Good Shepherd? There must be as many answers to that as there are people. For some, Jesus is a “personal” savior, and they can tell you the exact minute it happened. That’s not my experience. For me, it’s been a growing realization, bit by bit--a lot more indirect than the experience of some. One of Bob McClernon’s legacies for me was his articulation that Jesus Christ provided the “surest clue” of what it meant to be a Christian. For my nearly forty years here, I’ve been getting more and more clues. I’m sure your answer is different from mine, but here is how I experience Jesus, my Shepherd.

Through study of his life and works. By meditation, contemplation and prayer. And most tangibly, through God’s people. The ones he knows and the ones who know him. That’s you, and you and you, his deputy shepherds. That’s how the mystery and wonder of this amazing gift of having a Good Shepherd to guide me has been revealed to me.

And what does my shepherd call me to do? Love my God with all my heart, all my mind, and all my soul, and love my neighbor (all of them) as I love myself. That’s it, for me. Simple, and incredibly hard. Everything else is viewed through that lens.

So paradoxically, my shepherd is calling me to be a shepherd to my neighbor. But I want to be a sheep. It’s so much easier. All you do is follow.

There’s a moving oral essay on the TED internet channel by Bryan Stevenson, a smart lawyer who has dedicated his professional life to seeking equal justice, primarily for young black men. In talking about the lives of his clients, one thing he said stuck with me—he believes everyone is better than the worst thing they do, and I would add, they are also worse than the best thing they do. That’s my life experience. Sometimes I do things that cannot even charitably be called good. Sometimes I amaze myself and do good things. Life is not a straight line. 

I think there’s a parallel there to our shepherd/sheep lives. Sometimes I’m a shepherd, and a lot of the time I’m a sheep. Sometimes I’m both at the same time. This is the place where a singing minister would sing “you gotta know when to hold’em and know when to fold’em.” But as you know, I am not a minister, nor a singer.

What do sheep do? They follow. They are habitual creatures. I recently read an interesting book, The Power of Habit. The writer, a New York Times reporter, writes about the power of habits in shaping our lives. He has a long section on the evolution of the Saddleback Church in California, led by Rick Warren, which now has 20,000 members. Warren is a complex, charismatic and sometimes controversial person. But he led the church from a small group meeting in his living room to where it is today. What does Saddleback Church ask of its members? As the book puts it: “Each member is asked to sign a maturity covenant card promising to adhere to three habits: daily quiet time for reflection and prayer, tithing 10 percent of their income and membership in a small group.” Once those ideas became habits, things began to happen in their lives, and 20,000 members later, you have Saddleback Church. The Power of Habit; the things we do without thinking about them. Sheep have habits. So do we. What are the habits we need to be good sheep? It’s an interesting question. You could do worse than adopt Warren’s. But here are some possibilities.

• Join an adult Sunday School class, which is one of our equivalents of a small group.
• If you really want to learn, and learn about your own faith, teach a Sunday school class.
• Develop a spiritual discipline with your financial stewardship. Tithing is not the norm here, but spiritual financial discipline could be, and should be.
• Pray regularly. Spend time alone with God. Amazing things happen. My best time is when I’m walking either outside or, amazingly enough, on the treadmill. Yours may be on your knees or in your car alone with your thoughts. There are many pathways to prayer.
• Spend time in a mission task. Giving something to others often gets you more psychic benefit in return, and perhaps health benefits too.
• Join our other version of a small group, one of our mission groups.
• Be nice to a child, a youth, or a stranger. For no reason. Take a meal to a sick person. Just do it. It’s a good habit.

No church is healthy without a lot of good sheep. Thanks be to God for sheep.

But I believe God calls us be to more than sheep. We are also shepherds—and we have never needed shepherds as much as we will in the next year or so, as we transition to a new set of leaders for this special place. 

Are you ready? What do shepherds do? They lead. Sometimes. They sometimes walk beside you. But they always care. They go after the ones who need the help the most. The estranged. The lost ones. The lonely. The hurting.

In our SS class, we’ve been studying Jean Vanier’s reflections on John. He has been ministering to people with developmental disabilities through an organization called L’Arche for over 50 years. He was born to privilege, but called to service. He has spent his life among the profoundly disabled. And he has a gentleness of spirit that is inspirational. He walks the walk of expressing God’s love, as well as talking the talk.

Here’s what he said about our gospel lesson: “Shepherds are the ones who lead those who have been entrusted to them to grow to greater maturity and love. In biblical language, to know someone by name implies a growing understanding of a person, of his or her unique gifts and weaknesses, needs and mission in life… That means taking time with that person, . . creating a mutual relationship of communion, revealing to that person that he or she is loved, has value and is precious. One can only guide someone if there is . .mutual trust and … love . . . between the two. . . Real shepherds give of themselves freely. . .”

He also said Shepherds aren’t perfect. Thank goodness for that. It would be a small club if it were.

Who are our shepherds here? You, and you, and you--a posse of deputies.

Next week there will be an important vote on a constitutional amendment. It has generated lots of strong feelings. I’m not here to tell you how to vote, but I am sure that after the vote is taken there will be a need for shepherding among us. For same-sex couples interested in entering a lifelong partnership, this is an existential issue. It cannot feel good if one of the core components of your identity is rejected by your fellow citizens. For people in that situation, no matter how strong you are as a shepherd, the reality is that you will be more like a sheep than a shepherd. And if the vote goes the other way, there will be those among us who believe that marriage as they know and value it is threatened. They too can become like sheep. Those of us who are wearing our shepherd hats need to be sensitive to the sheep among us. And those of us who are feeling like sheep will need to recognize that is an acceptable place to be and allow themselves to be loved by the shepherds here.

I recently heard the Bishop of the NC Episcopal Diocese speak about this issue. He is strongly of the opinion that every person is created as an image of God, and of equal value and dignity. For him, his faith leads him to oppose any action that he views as unnecessarily harmful to God’s creatures. He puts the amendment in that category. But he closed his talk by reminding his audience and himself that those who disagree with him are also made in God’s image. He left, as he always does, with the blessing and admonition to “Go forth into the world in peace . . .; render to no one evil for evil…” No matter how good it would feel to do so. No one said being a shepherd is easy. Or even being a sheep. But with the grace of God and direction from a Good Shepherd, we are not alone as we continue on our journey together to becoming the people God has called us to be.

The Lord is my Shepherd. I am your shepherd. You are my shepherd. I am your sheep. You are my sheep. So may it be.

Broiled Fish and the Kingdom

Micah 4:1-4; Luke 24:36b-48

Watts Street Baptist Church, Durham, NC

April 22, 2012

• Dick Chorley

I wonder how many of us, when we’ve seen or heard some amazing news, have either said or thought, “I can’t believe what I’ve just seen!” “I can’t believe what I’ve just heard.” And perhaps we’ve gone on to say or think, “This flies in the face of all logic and the “way” things are suppose to happen!”

Today’s gospel lesson from Luke is a story that could well produce such a response: “This flies in the face of all logic and the “way” things are suppose to happen!” In fact I would not be greatly surprised if some of us, and here I’m including myself, I would not be greatly surprised if some of us would say or think…Luke’s story about Jesus appearing in the same room with the eleven remaining disciples following his crucifixion and death is near ‘bout impossible to believe. Not only did he appear, he talked to them and ate a piece of broiled fish. How can this be? Is this a true story? Or is it Luke’s attempt to tell us and all of the generations of readers before us and those yet to come, some eternal and everlasting truths?

I

Luke tells the story of Jesus appearing to the eleven disciples in Jerusalem on the heels of the report of Jesus meeting up with and then sharing a meal with two people following their walk to Emmaus. You recall the story of the two who left Jerusalem on the third day following the crucifixion headed toward a village called Emmaus. While they were walking along the dusty trail, a stranger joined them. So it was that this third man joined the conversation about the recent events in Jerusalem as they continued their journey. In fact, Luke tells us how the stranger listened to Cleopas and the other man relate the story of how their prophet and friend, Jesus of Nazareth, was arrested, then tried and condemned to death. And they went on to relate the other events of the past weekend including the reports of the empty tomb. When they reached the village, the stranger accepted their invitation to stay with them and share a meal. It was during the meal, as the stranger was breaking bread that Cleopas and his friend recognized the stranger as being Jesus. And just as soon as they recognized Jesus, he vanished.

Now it can fairly be said, I think, that Cleopas and his friend became men “under conviction.” Luke reports that they immediately headed back to Jerusalem to tell their story of encountering the risen Jesus, to the eleven remaining disciples. When they got back to Jerusalem they found, Luke reports, the eleven and other companions together in a room. Luke says it best: “Then they told what had happened on the road, and how he had been made known to them in the breaking of the bread.” (Luke 24:35).

This account leads directly to the scripture we are thinking about today.

Today’s scripture from Luke tells us how Jesus came to stand in the midst of the eleven and their companions. Jesus said to them “Peace be with you.” The gospel writer uses the words “startled and terrified” to describe the reaction in the room. Not only that, Luke tells us that the eleven and others thought they were seeing a ghost! But Jesus, trying to allay their fears, showed them his hands and feet and invited them to touch him. Still Luke reports, “While in their joy they were disbelieving and still wondering, he said to them, ‘Have you anything here to eat?’” (Luke 24:41)

Apparently the eleven and their companions were tending to their physical needs in spite of the momentous events they had so vividly and painfully recently experienced. They did, in fact, have something to offer Jesus. It was a piece of broiled fish which Luke reports Jesus accepted and promptly ate. 

Here I’m tempted to say that because Jesus ate broiled fish, that’s a clear and certain biblical mandate that broiling is the cooking method for all fish. Send the notices out on the listserves and Facebook: The Bible says that the only way to prepare fish is to broil it! It’s in the Book! End of discussion! But I digress.

Luke goes on to tell us that Jesus, having eaten the broiled fish, began to explain the meaning of the scriptures beginning with Moses and all of the prophets plus the psalms. Luke then quotes Jesus saying to the eleven and their friends, “You are witnesses of these things.” (Luke 24:48)

II

It seems to me that more often than not, we Christians are confronted with the schoolyard taunt: “Prove it!” Some of you remember the playground arguments that often escalated into a shouting match where the claims of one kid were met with the shouted challenge: “Prove it!” “My Dad’s car is lots faster than your Dad’s!” “Prove it!” “My Mom is the best cook in this town!” “Prove it!” 

The Bible tells us that Jesus came into the same room where the eleven and their friends were gathered following his crucifixion and death. Furthermore, the scriptures tell us that Jesus carried on a conversation with his friends and ate a piece of broiled fish. In the words of the schoolyard, some of us could say… or think… or shout: “Prove it!” For some of us, the fact that this story is reported in the biblical record is all the proof we need. But there are others of us who may have, in our deep-down honest selves, a wondering or even some doubt about the truth of this story. To put it bluntly, some of find this story difficult to believe. Even the disciples had this problem and they were in the same room with the risen Christ!

Frank Griswold is now the retired Presiding Bishop of the Episcopal Church in the United States. His writings have helped me to understand what, in some ways, is not understandable. In a lecture presented in 1998 titled “Listening With The Ear of the Heart” Bishop Griswold speaks to our wonderings and doubts. Griswold quotes the Old Testament scholar Walter Brueggemann who makes the following observation: “The Bible makes the truth available to us only as narrative, even if we want more.” Listen to that statement again: “The Bible makes the truth available to us only as narrative, even if we want more.”

Brueggemann is, I think, making a claim with which many of us could agree. And that claim is: the Bible tells us a story, a narrative, of what the long-ago writers remembered and believed. That’s all the writers provide even though we may long for more…more details, more evidence, more cold hard facts! We want to know the truth, the whole truth…nothing more, nothing less. But as Brueggemann goes on to point out, “The truth comes relentlessly packaged in ambiguity…” And for our “we want the facts and nothing but the facts” kind of thinking, ambiguity, in addition to not enough details presents us with problems. In the back of our minds, we join the schoolyard taunt, “Prove it!” We want to know more. We want more than is here in Luke’s account. A similar account of this story written in the gospel of John doesn’t shed any further light. But ambiguity and its close cousin, paradox, are the givens when it comes to the biblical record. Despite our desire for more information, more supporting facts, we are left with ambiguity and paradox.

So what are we to do? How do we make our peace with this story? Shall we agree that this is one of those stories that defies belief? Or do we say, it’s in the Bible, therefore I believe it! 

Again, Bishop Griswold’s observations are helpful when he provides these words of the poet Rilke: “Be patient with all that is unsolved in your heart. Try to love the questions themselves. Do not seek answers which cannot be given to you now because you would not be able to live them now. And the point is to live everything, live the question now. Perhaps you will then gradually, without noticing it, live along some distant day into the answer.” (Letters to a Young Poet, Rilke) Live the questions. Live the questions and perhaps you will then gradually, without noticing it, live along some distant day into the answer.

Still having difficulties coming to terms with the audacious claim that Jesus came to stand in the room with his disciples and their friends? Live the questions. How could it be that a man who was crucified, dead and buried is reported as present and talking with his friends? Live the questions. How could it be that there are faithful reports of him being alive? Live the questions. How can it be that there are reports of him eating broiled fish? Live the questions. How can it be that the Bible provides reports that seem to defy logic? Live the questions. The poet tells us: “Live the questions and perhaps you will then gradually, without noticing it, live along some distant day into the answer.”

III

I believe that it’s vitally important for us to highlight and remember what are, for me, the truths in Luke’s account of Jesus meeting with his disciples that day in Jerusalem.

First is the greeting of Jesus when he entered the room: “Peace be with you.” (Luke 24:36c) Now this greeting seems to have been a standard greeting. But, I would suggest, it is not standard at all when you consider all of the events of the days leading up to this meeting of Jesus with his disciples. The noisy and mock trial concluding with a death sentence defies peace. The public humiliation of Jesus defies peace. The violence of crucifixion defies peace. Yet here is Jesus meeting with his disciples and his first words to them were: “Peace be with you.” (Luke 24:36c) Even though Jesus endured a humiliating trial and death by crucifixion, he comes to his disciples and says, “Peace be with you.” The essential nature, the essential spirit, indeed the eternal spirit of Jesus is the proclamation of peace. And that is a lesson for us. It is one of the learnings we receive when reading Luke’s gospel. “Peace be with you.”

Secondly, the scripture tells us that the disciples “were startled and terrified.” But Jesus responds to their fear by asking a question: “Why are you frightened, and why do doubts arise in your hearts?” Not only did Jesus respond to their fear, he also sensed their doubt. And although the biblical record from Luke doesn’t say it specifically, I am convinced that Jesus could well have said, “Be not afraid.” It’s a statement that appears many times throughout the gospels. Be not afraid, be of good courage, let not your hearts be troubled…all of these admonitions are repeated many times. I believe that Jesus asked his disciples and their friends, “Why are you frightened…” as a way to say: there is no need to fear. I am reminded of the words of a hymn we sing and love in this congregation:

“Fear not, I am with thee, oh, be not dismayed;

for I am thy God, and will still give thee aid.

I’ll strengthen thee, help thee, and cause thee to stand,

upheld by my righteous, omnipotent hand.”

 (John Rippon’s Selection of Hymns,1787)

It’s also important to point out here, that the words of the prophet Micah apply when fear threatens to overcome us. Micah writes in the 4^th chapter: “…they shall all sit under their own vines and under their own fig trees, and no one shall make them afraid; for the mouth of the Lord of hosts has spoken.” (Micah 4:4) Jesus, who was educated in and shaped by the Hebrew scriptures was surely familiar with these comforting and assuring words from the prophet Micah.

Thirdly, the scriptural record declares that Jesus “opened their minds to understanding the scriptures…” (Luke 24:45). Jesus began a quick review of the Hebrew scriptures starting with the law of Moses, the prophets, and the psalms. Luke reports that Jesus told his friends how all that had been written in the Hebrew scriptures was now fulfilled. And as if to underline his quick review, Jesus declares, “You are witnesses of these things.” (Luke 24:48) You are witnesses of these things. This declaration, this command was given to the disciples and their friends that day in Jerusalem. Plus, and here’s the challenging part, it is a declaration and command that challenges and confronts the disciples of Jesus, even those of us who gather for worship at the Watts Street Baptist Church today. And it also applies to our sisters and brothers who gather for worship at the All Ages Beach Retreat this weekend. Being witnesses is Kingdom work. Being witnesses is announcing, in word and deed, that peace is more powerful than violence. Being witnesses is announcing that, as the prophet Micah said long ago: “no one shall make them afraid.” Being witnesses is the call to repentance and proclaiming the forgiveness of sin. Being witnesses is Kingdom work. And for strength to sustain you for the Kingdom work to which we are all called, eat a piece of broiled fish! Amen.

Reflection by Daniel Davis

Watts Street Young Adult Sunday

April 15, 2012

In this passage there are two interesting themes. One, obviously about doubt, and one about unity.These disciples fled when Jesus was arrested. THEN he, their leader, was killed. Why would they unite after that, and why would it be then that Jesus appears to them? Why did Christ even unite these 12 strangers in the first place? What’s the significance of unity? I like to believe that themes that occur regularly throughout the Bible are intended to reach a deeper level than just surface interpretations, and I think Unity is one of those themes. I’ll call this deeper level of Unity “true Unity”.

True Unity is a gift from God, and it’s something that I think few people understand. And that’s because it gets so clouded with definitions and images that have weighed it down like baggage over the years. I know this, because the word “unity” always seems to invoke some type of image in people’s minds, but I don’t think it should. Here’s why: Let’s use God as an example. God is an omniscient omnipresence whose greatness cannot be fathomed by our tiny little minds. Yet despite that, we still try to put images on God, such as a father figure with a silver beard and a toga. This has us imagine God as an actual person with fatherly characteristics. But the problem arises when God does something in our lives that doesn’t fit this image, and then our image, our God is completely shattered. C.S. Lewis describes God as the great iconoclast. The moment we try to put God in a box, an image or a label, He breaks out of it.

The same applies to true Unity. When most people think of Unity, they think of people coming together, holding hands, saying prayers and singing “We are the world, we are the children”. While it’s not wrong to associate this image with unity, it’s just a byproduct of what true Unity actually is. Like God, don’t mistake the imagery of Unity for Unity itself.

So what’s my definition of true Unity then? We’re not the strongest creatures on earth and we may not even be the smartest. And most animals have the ability to unite: in a herd, in a flock, in a pack, in a shrewdness. Humans unite too, but there’s something different with us, something deeper. Like the disciples in this passage, we unite for causes and for beliefs. Why do we do that?
I think it’s because we recognize something in each other. Something much more than just another human, just another animal.We are the great hybrids of earth and heaven. And we see that spirit, that Breathe of God, that glimmer of a soul in each other, which brings about the paradox of actually feeling FOR one another. Leading us to compassion, heroism, love. And these are the values that we unite under, but it’s because of these values that we are all united. It’s the only all-inclusive unity. Much more than a group, much more than a church, much more than a movement.

That’s what I think Jesus is showing through the 12 disciples: a group of completely different people from all walks of life that find unity in Him. And the power shown through them is a model that shows the potential the world is capable of when it unites. It’s what South Africans call “Ubuntu” and what Archbishop Desmund Tutu describes as “a self-assurance that comes from knowing that we belong to a greater whole and are diminished when others are humiliated or diminished”. True Unity is the realization that being united is not something that we do, it’s something that we are. And it’s at that point of realization when we see that as much as every race, as much as every sex, and as much as every creed, we are all souls programmed by God for love. And in that we are all Truly United.

Reflection on 1 John 1:1 – 2:2

Watts Street Young Adult Sunday

by Rachel Revelle

April 15, 2012

Well we have been through the season of Lent, our emotional capacity has been stretched during Holy Week, and we have burst forth with the joyous celebration of Easter. As a compulsive planner, list maker, and calendar follower, I now must ask myself, what’s next? Eventually we’ll get to another festive celebration – bright reds, yellows, and oranges will abound – on Pentecost Sunday. So, in the meantime, we have Eastertide. But what exactly will “tide” us over until we are invigorated with the gift of the Holy Spirit? 

Last week we heard Mary go and tell the others that she has seen Jesus! That He is alive! Today in John 20 the disciples encounter Jesus again and, with that horrifying yet captivating truth of his scars, they also can see He is alive. And yet, Jesus says “blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed.” I guess we get some credit since we don’t quite have the option to touch the palm of the living God. But how will we do it then? How will we continue to believe the Easter miracle as we go back to everyday life?

1 John gives us a good place to start. It is a declaration of the original message of Jesus. We owe these early writers a thank you for transferring what they have seen and heard and touched. It’s as if we are let in on a fabulous secret – by gaining the knowledge of these words, we join in fellowship with generations past, with others in the body of faith,and also with the Father and His Son! Christ is made present to those for whom the only way to know Him is by faith. 

So we know this message is real and we also receive a directive by which to keep us faithful. If we walk in the light, as God is light, then we maintain fellowship with one another and with the blood of Christ. Being in fellowship with God as well as with fellow believers has a practical obligation. We must work at walking in the light. Does this mean a down in the dirt, sweaty kind of work? Sometimes it may seem like it, but I think overall it is more the work of a careful artist. We are coaxing a painting to life with careful consideration and study of other artists we admire, as well as using the ultimate model of God himself. Sometimes we may be frustrated and want to simply throw the cloth over our work. But remember, we also have the fellowship with Christ’s blood. By His atonement for our sins, he creates a layer of color that fills vacant space, covers errors, and adds just the right dimension to bring our paintings to life. 

Let’s continue to paint together, jointly proclaiming what we believe and marking it by the illumination of our own lives. Maybe you can paint on the other side of my easel. That way I can make a smudge here and there and privately know I can ask to use that special color. But don’t let me stop painting, stop believing, stop adding to our fellowship. And I will do the same for you, knowing that it may be in your painting that I see the face of God.

Practice Resurrection! (John 20:1-18) Diane Eubanks Hill

Easter Day, April 8, 2012 Watts Street Baptist Church

The Lord is risen! The Lord is risen, indeed! Alleluia!

This familiar greeting has been sounded at Easter by Christians around the world for centuries. The Lord is risen! The Lord is risen, indeed! Alleluia!  And today we’ve heard again the story, read through the centuries, of that morning when Mary Magdalene arrived first at the tomb. In other Gospel accounts we learn that likely another woman or two accompanied her and that they bore spices for the body of Jesus.

Mary and the others hoped somehow to roll away that heavy stone from the opening of the tomb. What a surprise to find the tomb both open and empty, except for the linen wrappings! It’s interesting that Mary ran immediately to tell Peter and the other disciples, who came running, saw the empty tomb, then…went home.

Too much for them to process! For the past three years they had given up all to follow this preacher, this evangelist whom they knew as Jesus, the one who they hoped would come in power to change the world. 

And change their world, he did, but not as they had expected! He ate with the outcasts, healed the sinners, stopped to take children on his knee, blessed the poor, the meek, the persecuted, chastised the religious leaders, and refused to lift a hand to defend himself. These disciples had given up all to follow this Jesus who had turned everything topsy-turvy for them.

Summoned by Mary Magdalene, these men came out of hiding, saw the empty tomb and temporarily went home, back to life as it was the day before. The scripture says that one disciple believed, but for the others, the risen Christ had to appear several times in the coming days before they started to get it. Eventually they believed, however, and began to practice resurrection.

We’re familiar with faith practices such as prayer, study, worship, alms-giving, teaching, hospitality. We know that the more we practice these disciplines, the more apt we are to welcome them fully into our lives, to be open to them, and to let our lives be changed by their presence. But what about this idea of practicing resurrection?!

The disciples had gone into hiding after the crucifixion, but we know from reading the story of the early Christian Church, that after the resurrection these same disciples entered back into the world with courage and strength. They picked up the ministry of Jesus, healing the sick, tending the widows, sitting with the outcasts. They were not the same people that they were before the resurrection.

So, maybe the important and enduring truth about Easter is not so much the speculation of how Jesus was changed by the resurrection, but how the disciples were changed by the resurrection, and how you and I are changed because of the resurrection. 

With practice, can we make the resurrection into a stepping stone to new life? What does it mean for you and me to practice resurrection?

Maybe you’ve not chosen these words to describe your experiences, but many of you have practiced resurrection during the past years and months. 

Some of you have experienced the painful unraveling of significant relationships. You could have withdrawn and become bitter. But, with effort, with practice, you chose to step back out of your tomb and re-enter life and relationships. You practice resurrection.

Others of you have faced difficult health challenges, physical or mental. For a period of time, you were confined to a tomb of sorts, a prison keeping you from the joys of your life. Such is true of June, the one who bears the light for us this morning, but there are many others of you. As soon as you were able, you pushed to regain your strength, to return to making life better for others around you, and to receiving the gifts that God offers you daily. You practice resurrection.

Many of you know Christine. She is 93, and every Sunday intends to be in the nursery caring for our very youngest. She has been confined with back difficulties. I’m sure she feels like she is entombed. And what is her stated goal? --to get better, to regain her strength, so she can prepare food for those needing support. In

Some of you worry about loved ones. Maybe they’re sick, or making poor decisions, or maybe you’re afraid of losing them. You could let your fear or worry entomb you, and I imagine that at times it threatens to do just that. But when you choose to keep on with your life, when you keep on handing these loved ones back to God, you are choosing to practice resurrection.

Some of you are bound by your desperate and unfulfilled desire to have children. Everywhere you turn, you see precious children, yet your arms are empty. You could let your pain keep you in prison, isolated from your friends and your church family. I pray that, even in the midst of your pain, you’ll find ways to practice resurrection.

Some of you are caught in abusive relationships. What a prison! You struggle to keep going, to decide wisely about staying or leaving. Every time you step back into the stream of life around you, you practice resurrection. With great courage, you affirm life, offering witness to something better than the life you now know.

Others of you practice resurrection when you are faithful to your uphill battle with the injustices. You may wonder if it’s worth it, but you keep on trying, stepping out, time after time, to take hold of the nearest edge of a great need. You practice resurrection!

You may recognize yourself here, or you may think of other tombs that threaten to hold you, to confine you, to keep you from living life to its fullest, and of being all God creates you to be. Whatever your situation, I pray, for your sake and for the sake of the world and of those who love you, you’ll make a choice this day to practice resurrection.

In his book God’s Politics, Jim Wallis tells a story about practicing resurrection. Wallis was in South Africa when apartheid and the South African Security Police were strangling the very life out of that country. Wallis describes an experience he had in a service where Archbishop Desmond Tutu was speaking, and the Security Police burst in:

Tutu stopped preaching and looked at the intruders….They had already arrested Tutu and other church leaders just a few weeks before and kept them in jail for several days….After meeting their eyes with his in a steely gaze, (Tutu) acknowledged their power…but reminded them that he served a higher power than their political authority. Then, in the most extraordinary challenge to political tyranny I have ever witnessed, Archbishop Desmond Tutu told the representatives of South African Apartheid, “Since you have already lost, I invite you today to come and join the winning side!” He said it with a smile on his face and an enticing warmth in his invitation, but with a clarity and a boldness that took everyone’s breath away. The congregation’s response was electric. The crowd was literally transformed by the bishop’s challenge to power. From a cowering fear of the heavily armed security forces…we literally leaped to our feet, shouted the praises of God and began dancing. We danced out of the cathedral to meet the awaiting police and military forces who, not knowing what else to do, backed up to provide the space for the people of faith to dance for freedom in the streets of South Africa. 

When we practice resurrection, the promise of freedom, and of new life is ours, right in the middle of now. With resurrection power, everything can be transformed, everything can be made new—for us as individuals, for our church, for our community.

 “Jesus did not ask Peter, James and John to subscribe to a set of theological propositions….” His goal was not that they believe in the resurrection. Instead, he asked them to practice resurrection. “He asked them to follow, to decide to get up from what they were doing and go with him.” (John Buchanan, “Longing for Certainty,” Christian Century, April 4, 2012, p. 3) That’s what it means to practice resurrection.

Will you join me today in practicing resurrection? If you’ll join me, I assure you that we’ll get better at it—together!

The Lord is risen! The Lord is risen, indeed! Alleluia!

The Gospel of Mark is a rickety carnival ride. You can’t read it without getting a crick in your neck. The Gospel creates these moments, when, all of a sudden, after a tremendous build up of anticipation, nothing happens. Or you get the surprise of your life. Or you’re left in the dark. Or as soon as you think you’ve escaped one clown, you bump into another one on stilts. Mark leads you into a virtual funhouse of sharp turns, low ceilings, moving floors, and warped mirrors.

You know when you sit down on the roller coaster, just after you’ve locked the safety harness in place? Why is that always the time when we check to see who’s manning the control booth? You see the wild-eyed guy at the controls, with the rubber nose and giant red shoes? That’s Jesus. Laughing maniacally, he clink-clink-clinks you all the way to the tallest point on the roller coaster, pulls the brakes, and mysteriously disappears from the control booth. Just as you thought you were going to plummet--

“Then...he entered Jerusalem...and went into the temple...and when he had looked around at everything...as it was already late... he...he...” hey, where’s he going? He stole my cloak!

This is a fitting ending to the Triumphal Entry. The entire event is a parody, “street theater” as one scholar has called it--a biting satire not only of the powers that be, but of anyone who thinks might makes right. Jesus begins directing National Lampoon’s Triumphal Entry well in advance. He likely planted this colt earlier. Not long after James and John asked Jesus for high ranking cabinet positions. “Jesus, after you win the election, can I be VP?” John asks. “And can I be Secretary of Defense?” pleads James. And there’s Jesus, “[Sigh] How about donkey duty?”

Hard to blame the disciples for thinking like this as they approach the Mount of Olives. The Mount of Olives was a strategic military site, not unlike the way we might have thought about Normandy just before the decisive battle. It was commonly understood to be the future staging ground of political revolution. So you can imagine the disciples, especially Peter, who thought Jesus was going to throw the bums out, are full of adrenaline at this moment. 

 “Go into the village ahead of you,” Jesus says. 

 “Yes? And?” 

 “And immediately as you enter it...”

 Mm hmm? Yes?

 “You will find...”

“A stockpile of swords? Some battle supplies? Maps? Ammunition?”

 “A colt.”

 “A colt?” 

Can you imagine the President telling the Secret Service, “For my inauguration parade, I rented us a Ford Focus.” 

 “A Ford Focus?” But, Mr. President...

I served a church in a small town. We began our Palm Sunday processional a block away in the town square. Somebody would always ask, “We gon’ git that mule again from the Blakes’ farm?” And the answer would be, “Naw, they ain’t got that mule n’more.” And so without a real mule we’d have to make do with the only logical alternative. Dress up the church member in a mule costume (usually someone from the finance committee, or a deacon, or me, the pastor--whoever seemed the most deserving at the time). And then we’d have our cute little parade, and the townspeople would watch and say, “Aw, well isn’t that a nice church with cute costumes.” And it was all so precious.

But I wonder if Jesus rolls his eyes at our Palm Sundays. “No, no, no, It’s satire. It’s a lampoon. It’s risky. Palm Sunday got me killed.”

Not much difference between Palm Sunday and the clown car at the circus. The tiny little car with two doors and the clown driving with his knees beside his ears. He stops the car and gets out and shuts the door. But the door opens again and another clown pops out. And he shuts the door, but another one pops out . . . and again and again until 10 clowns just got out of a car that barely held one.

Now imagine that car crashing a meeting in the Pentagon’s War Room, and ten of us pop out with little remote control drones. One by one we aim for foreheads. “Whoops, sorry. I was aiming for civilians!” That’ll get you one step closer to a crucifixion.

But I’m just being silly, now. Too many ad-libs. Or am I simply following the logic of Psalm 2? And the opening scene with all the generals and politicos, sipping brandy and chewing cigars and making very, very important decisions. The world hangs in the balance! It all depends on them! 

 While the Lord sits in the heavens and laughs. He has them in derision!

When the truth of what Jesus is doing settles on us, we feel a blush of indignation, too. We’re prideful people. As Thomas Moore said, “The devil, the proud spirit, cannot endure to be mocked.” We couldn’t be wrong, could we? But the sharp satire cuts us to the heart. Aren’t we the ones constantly fooled into thinking the kings and presidents and governors of this world are our benefactors? That somehow, someday, we’re really going to make progress, and kill the enemies, and win the war, and build a democracy? That hitting back or hitting first is the wise option? How many Palm Sundays do we need to reenact before we realize the joke’s on us?

It matters what we think we’re saying when we shout, “Hosanna!” The kids and the palm branches and the glory, laud, and honor is all part of the liturgy. Yet, there’s one glaring problem here. We keep asking this King to save us now. In our time and on our terms. We want what the first participants of the Triumphal Entry want, a new David, who will restore the fortunes of Zion, who will take us back to our former glory, who will kick the bums out. Isn’t it too bad we got a king dressed more like a jester, who pulls out every single rug we’ve ever sown for ourselves?

“Lo, your king comes to you!” Zechariah shouts... “Humble and riding on a donkey, on a colt, the foal of a donkey. He will cut off the chariot and the war horse, and the battle bow shall be cut off, and he shall command peace to the nations...”

In a strange, but oddly truthful way, Mark evokes the memory of this prophecy--only as it’s read backwards: 

 “He shall command peace to the nations!”

 Yes, of course. We’ll drink to that. A toast to world peace!

 “The battle bow shall be cut off...He’ll cut off the chariot and the war horse!”

 Exactly. We’ll defeat our enemies!

 “Your king comes to you, humble and riding on a donkey?”

 April Fools!

Jesus leaves the temple in the final, anticlimactic scene. Only a few verses later, the chief priests and scribes are looking for a way to kill him. The text says, “For they were afraid of him.” If Jesus had done the expected thing and staged a military coup, and come down the Mount of Olives on a white horse flanked on both sides by a cavalry brigade, the Roman military would have flung them like funnel cake batter into Jerusalem’s outer wall. 

But he comes down from the Mount of Olives more like Barnum and Bailey’s circus. And the lies of the powers, the rulers, and the authorities are unmasked. The chief priests and scribes are terrified. Aren’t we all?

With a smirk on his face and a trick up his sleeve, this Jesus isn’t the king we wanted. But, thank God, he’s the only one who can save fools like us.

Curtis W. Freeman, PhD Watts Street Baptist Church

Baptist House of Studies Durham, North Carolina

Duke Divinity School March 18, 2012

Giving Life to the World

John 3:14-21

Prayer: May the words of my mouth, and the meditations of all our hearts be acceptable in your sight, O Lord, our Rock and Redeemer. Amen.

Have you ever been in a discussion when somebody brings up the latest outrage of some Baptist, and then turns to you and says, Aren’t you a Baptist? When that happens it reminds me of one of my favorite scenes in Harper Lee’s book, To Kill A Mockingbird, when Scout and Miss Maudie, are discussing why their shy neighbor, Boo Radley, stays cooped up in his house all the time.

Miss Maudie says, You know [his daddy] old Mr. Radley was a foot-washing Baptist.

That’s what you are, ain’t it? Scout replied.

My shell’s not that hard, child, Miss Maudie answered back. I’m just a Baptist.

Miss Maudie went on to explain about the Primitive Baptists.

Foot-washers believe anything that’s a pleasure is a sin. Did you know some of ‘em came out of the woods one Saturday and passed by this place and told me me and my flowers were going to hell?

Your flowers, too? Scout said, gasping with astonishment.

Yes ma’am. They’d burn right with me. They thought I spent too much time in God’s outdoors and not enough time inside the house reading the Bible.

Thank goodness you don’t know any folks like that! But, then again, maybe you do. Aren’t you a Baptist? You go to that church over on Watts Street, don’t you? What kind of church is that, anyway?

Thom Rainer, CEO of LifeWay Christian Resources, recently tweeted the question, What do you think when you hear the words “Southern Baptist?” He published a Wordle of the answers he received. (In case you’re not familiar with Wordles or Word Clouds as they are sometimes called, they are arrangements of the words in a text into a picture where the more frequently recurring words are larger and more prominently displayed.) The picture of Southern Baptists that emerged, centered on the words Legalism, Legalistic, Controlling, Don’t, Not, Boycott, Inerrancy, Fundamentalist, Hellfire, Pharisee, and of course Fried Chicken! Not surprising, you might (with not a little Shadenfreude) be saying to yourself: Thank God, we’re not THAT kind of Baptist! But I wonder what sort of picture might emerge if we tweeted the question, What do you think when you hear “Watts Street Baptist?”

If I were to answer that question, here’s what I might say. Or let me be honest—this is what I hope people might say when they think about us: Watts Street Baptist Church is . . . a John 3:16 church. Everyone knows John 3:16: For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life. But what does that mean?

Some people will tell you this verse clearly means that unless you accept Jesus Christ as your personal Lord and Savior, you are going to burn in hell forever. We know all too well those kinds of churches who make it their mission to tell everyone they have to accept Jesus right then and there or God is going to burn them up, and their flowers too. Other folks will tell you John 3:16 shows us that God is really nice. These churches are committed to being really nice too, especially to those that are less fortunate.

Some of you are no doubt thinking that this characterization of do-good liberalism and feel-good evangelicalism is a caricature. And of course you are right, neither one gives the full picture, does it? But I am afraid that these alternatives may actually be closer to the reality of the religious landscape we live in than we care to admit. So maybe then we can start by asking whether the feel-good/ do-good paradigm exhausts the possibilities of what it might mean for us to be a John 3:16 church. And if these stereotypes don’t really tell us very much, what is John 3:16 about anyway?

As I thought about that question, I wondered, if I constructed a word cloud based from John 3:16, what sort of picture might emerge? So I did. You can see it on the front page of the bulletin. Take a look at it. What stands out in the picture are the words GAVE, LIFE, and WORLD. The more I reflected on these words, the more it struck me that this is what LOVE is—the vital life-giving force of the world.

This text answers three of the most important questions that any church needs to know. First, it tells us WHO the object of God’s love is. And to our utter surprise we discover that it is not the holy or the righteous or even the lovely—God so loved the world. Second, John 3:16 tells us HOW God loved—that he gave his only Son. The demonstration of God’s love for the world is in the extravagant gift of Jesus Christ. And third, this verse explains WHY God loved—so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life. God’s Word gave life to the world, but yet, when the Word of God showed up in history in Jesus of Nazareth, the world did not recognize him (Jn 1:10). Yet even then, God did not condemn the world, for God sent the Son that the world might be saved through him (Jn 3:17).

So, what is John 3:16 about? It tells us that God’s gift of love incarnate in Jesus Christ is the life for the world. And to be a John 3:16 church means to do whatever we can do to help the world find and connect with its life. The light that shines from Jesus Christ is the life of the world, and yet this same light is also judgment because there is something about the world that does not seem to recognize or even desire its own life. It reminds me of the story of the guy who was walking down the street one night, when he came upon a man standing under a street light who looked like he was searching for something.

Can I help you? He asked.

I lost my keys, replied the man.

Where did you lose them? He asked.

Over there, said the man, pointing down the dark street.

So why are you looking here? said the guy offering to help.

Looking puzzled, the man answered back, Because there’s no light over there!

That’s where the church comes in. It is our mission to be on the lookout. Wherever there is darkness, there is the world in need of finding the light that is life. We do not have the light, but we can point to it. And wherever there is life-giving work going on (even if we do not immediately see the name Jesus), we can trust that God is somehow at work there too, and in faith we can join our efforts with God’s life-giving life. And sometimes our mission may be helping folks to name the One in whose life they live and move and have their being. But of this you can be sure: The love that became incarnate in Jesus will show up in unexpected places and among unsuspecting people. As Karl Barth reminded us: The voice of the Good Shepherd may sound from the mouth (or even the ass) of Balaam (Karl Barth, CD, IV.3, 119). Let us then listen closely for his familiar voice and look deeply that we might know (and help others to know) the life of the world.

But where is the world? I’ll tell you. It’s me. It’s you. It’s us. It’s them. It’s each and all of the sons and daughters of Earth who left home to dwell in the land east of Eden. In the course of time, some of us worldlings came to our senses while we were in the far country, eating pods with the swine. Wallowing in our shame, we remembered a place called home, although we couldn’t begin to imagine they would still welcome us because we’d wandered so far. But we started back anyway on that long journey home.

Then one night along the way we met a stranger. We wrestled through the darkness till finally we were exhausted. And when morning came, and we were still holding on with our last ounce of strength, we declared:

I stand and will not let Thee go,

Till I Thy Name, Thy nature know.

Then, the stranger spoke: I am the One who gives life to the world. And in that moment we knew, that the NATURE and NAME of this One is LOVE. Though we ran away as far as we could, LOVE found us and brought us back home again, and gave us a new robe, and put a ring on our finger, and killed the fatted calf, and said: This my son—This my daughter was lost, but is now found! And then to our utter surprise, the family spoke with one voice, and said, Thank God, you are here!

Now, that is LOVE! And that is GOOD NEWS! And that is who God is. And that is, by God’s grace, who we can be too. Now, try to imagine the people who are not here, who do not yet know the LOVE that gives life to the world. And try to imagine what it might mean to bear witness to this kind of LOVE: a LOVE that gives life to the world. And when we can imagine what it might mean to share in the life-giving LOVE for the world, we will know what it might mean to be a John 3:16 church. Watts Street Baptist is a life-giving church. Thank God we are here!

Let us pray: Lord Jesus Christ, you stretched out your arms of love on the hard wood of the cross that everyone might come within the reach of your saving embrace: So clothe us in your Spirit that we, reaching forth our hands in love, may bring those who do not know you to the knowledge and love of you; for the honor of your Name. Amen. (From Morning Prayer Rite II as published in The Book of Common Prayer).

Benediction:

May the Lord bless you and keep you,

May the Lord make his face to shine upon you and be gracious unto you,

May the Lord lift up his countenance upon you and give you peace.

Now may the grace of the Lord Jesus Christ,

the love of God, and

the communion of the Holy Spirit

be with you all,

now, and evermore, Amen.

BENEDICTION Numbers 6:22-27

By Mel Williams

Watts Street Baptist Church

March 4, 2012 (Mel’s final Sunday as pastor)

You’ve heard me say before that it’s OK to cry in church. I’ve done my share of crying lately. But— it’s also OK to laugh in church. Did you hear these children’s versions of the Bible. Teachers collected these actual words from children. The Epistles were the wives of the apostles. Solomon had 300 wives and 700 porcupines. In the Ten Commandments it says: Humor thy mother and father.

Each Sunday at worship, we end the service with a ritual, a blessing. It’s called the Benediction. The word “bene diction” means, literally, speaking well or saying good things, affirming words, to someone.

Where did the benediction come from, the origin? We just heard it from the Book of Numbers. And the Lord said to Moses, “Tell the ministers…to give the people a blessing.” 

We ministers are called to give blessings. To bless someone— is to extend God’s presence, sacred power, into us and into the world.

But sometimes we ministers can feel awkward or embarrassed or uncertain at the benediction.

But the Lord said to Moses, “Tell the ministers…to give the people a blessing.”

But, Lord, this is an odd time, this departure day. I feel awkward and sad. This is a time of grief.

The Lord says: I don’t care how the minister feels. Tell him to bless the people….and I will bless him/her.

Why would we ministers feel uncertain or awkward about giving the benediction? Because…we ministers don’t speak for ourselves. We speak for God. 

That’s why our insides churn and our teeth nearly crack!! It’s a heavy responsibility. But somebody’s got to do it. So—we ministers must summon some moxie, some chutzpah, some audacity. You see, the blessing, the benediction, is one thing I don’t possess. It is God’s to give. We ministers are messengers, spokespersons. That means that we are utterly vulnerable and dependent on God.

But I can also hear God saying, “Tell the people of Watts Street Baptist Church…to give Mel and Jan a blessing—AND I WILL BLESS THEM.

Oh, dear Lord, this has already been done---in countless ways. These dear Watts Street people—you— have been agents of God’s blessing to us in many, many ways. As we leave today, we take you with us—in our hearts. We thank you for your blessing.

My job today is to give a blessing— for you and for the future of this church. So I want to offer the blessing in two parts—several blessings now and another at the end of the service. SING: Bless my people with Spirit…Bless each one of you with Spirit…Bless this church with Spirit…Bless this covenant community….Bless each one of you with Spirit.

May God amaze you more and more with amazing grace. May Christ clothe you with courage and compassion. May Holy Spirit anoint you, again and again, with the gift that makes you faithful and free. So may it be. Amen.

AT THE END OF SERVICE: BENEDICTION

May the Lord make his face to shine upon you and be gracious to you. 

May God give you grace never to sell yourself short, 

grace to risk something good,

grace to remember that the world is too dangerous for anything but truth

and too small for anything but love.

So—may God take our minds and think through them. 

May God take our lips and speak through them. 

May God take our hearts and set them on fire—

 for the sake of God’s love and justice and peace in this world. 

ALL SING: A-men. A-men. A-men. A-men.

A LETTER TO THE CHURCH AT WATTS STREET

A sermon by Mel Williams

Watts Street Baptist Church

February 26, 2012

Next Sunday at worship—my final Sunday, we will sing hymns and celebrate Communion. Today I am offering a Letter to the Church at Watts Street.

Grace and peace to you from God, who is the source of our life and our vitality. Grace and peace to you from God, who is light to our path. 

We’re now in Lent, the season when we follow Jesus as he spends 40 days in the wilderness. I believe that wilderness is an essential part of our spiritual life. We all need wilderness to help us clarify who we are, to reconnect with God, and to gain perspective on next steps in our life. 

After nearly 24 years as your pastor, on March 4 I will now be making a transition, and you as a congregation begin a season of transition. Lent marks the beginning of that season, a time when you may experience a wilderness of concerns. In transitions, anxiety and uncertainty rises. What will happen next? How do we get through this uneasy time? What about leadership?

Since I have only one more week with you, I’ve decided to offer this letter, to be as clear and direct as I can. Following the Letter to the Ephesians, this is a letter to the church at Watts Street; and following Paul’s letter, this is also a prayer for the church at Watts Street.

When we face life transitions, we deal with anxiety and uncertainty. We don’t know what the future will look like; but we step out in faith, at times with shaky knees. As people of faith, our job is to trust. Faith is courageous trust. I pray that God will send you a large measure of courageous trust.

I pray that this Lenten wilderness/transition will be a time to trust the process—the process of your discernment and careful planning. I urge you to trust the process of God at work among you. I urge you to trust that you will be given the resources you need at the time you need them. I urge you to trust the process recommended by your elected leaders—Personnel Committee, Church Council, and the Interim Search Committee. 

Anchor your planning in prayer and solitude. May your prayer guide you to breathe deeply, releasing anxieties, until you are calm, centered, and connected to your spiritual resources. May your Love for God always be at the center of your life.

Love for neighbor follows our love for God. In this Watts Street covenant community, I pray that your relationships with each other will grow stronger because of your relationship with God. “See how they love one another” is your goal. I hope you will listen to each other, seeking understanding across every difference. I pray that you will continue to respect each other, even when you disagree. Clear communication during the transition is more important than ever. I pray that attentiveness to relationships will be a high priority, and that love and forgiveness will be rampant among you.

I also remind you that you are a congregation of gifted leaders. There is more talent here, per square inch of pew space, than in any church I know. I pray that you will focus on your strengths. Name your strengths, claim your gifts, celebrate your strengths. Help each other affirm and use the gifts God has given. This is a time for every member to be a minister, to claim your particular gifts as your contribution to building up the body of Christ at Watts Street. This community will continue to thrive as each of you offers your gifts for the ongoing health and vitality of this church. 

In my prayers, I give thanks for you every day. Gratitude is the central reality that should mark our life—and our life together. I pray that you will increasingly become a grateful people. This is a rare and wonderful congregation, for which we all need to offer perpetual gratitude. It is through gratitude that we find our health, aliveness, and fulfillment.

You are known as a mission-oriented congregation, but your mission begins not in duty; it begins in gratitude. The primary motivation for our mission is gratitude. I pray that as you are anchored in prayer and worship, you will keep nurturing this vital community, out of which mission to the wider community is a natural result, like fruit that grows from a well-tended garden

I pray that the longstanding Watts Street tradition of mission involvement will continue, that risk-taking on behalf of those excluded and left behind will always be a hallmark of this church. The various mission groups here grow out of gratitude for God’s goodness, God’s grace.

Likewise, financial giving to this church’s ministry grows from gratitude. As I depart, I am concerned that we have a significant shortfall of 2012 pledges. We’re more than $100,000 short. That’s a great concern to me. I pray that gratitude will lead you to invest more of your financial resources in God’s work here. This is not a time to withhold money; but to give generously, even sacrificially. 

I pray that many of you will accept the biblical mandate of 10 percent of your income to be given to God’s work through this church. This has been my practice throughout my years here, and I commend this level of giving as a spiritual practice for you. I will not ask you to do something that I have not been willing to do.

If you cannot pledge at 10 percent—if all of you pledged even seven percent of your after-taxes income to the Lord’s work at Watts Street, we would have no deficit in 2012 pledging.

You may not realize what a gem of a congregation you have here. It’s rare and remarkable. You can easily take it for granted. When people move from Watts Street to other cities, they tell me, “We can’t find a Watts Street Church in this city.”

I hope and pray that God will inspire you and motivate you to an increased financial generosity to undergird the vital ministry and mission of this amazing congregation. Financial giving is a spiritual practice that grows out of gratitude and commitment.

In addition to the ministry of money, I also encourage you to have fun—the ministry of humor. Laughter is a crucial part of faith. Humor is God’s hand on our sagging shoulders. Hey! Did you hear the church bulletin blooper? It read like this: “The minister will preach his farewell message after which the choir will sing, “Break Forth into Joy.” I hope and pray that you will laugh often and have fun together.

With the two parties you’ve thrown for the departing pastor, I have wondered if this church is becoming known as a party church. We’ve had a number of new folks join this church recently; and it could be that they’ve heard that this is a church where laughter, party, and fun keep happening. Thank God!

I conclude this letter by telling you what’s in my heart: I love you. After 24 years I’ve known your love. I’ve seen how much you have loved my family—Jan and our children. You’ve extended enormous care in all the extenuating circumstances and celebrations we’ve faced

Your attentiveness and love will always live in our hearts. Don’t forget how much I love you. As you go forth into God’s good future, you go with my love and blessing.

Thank God you are here! Amen.

We Are Ashes, Loved by God February 22, 2012 Diane Eubanks Hill

I’ve told you the story before. Approaching Ash Wednesday, I find I can’t get it out of my mind. 

She stood in the doorway of my office, but only for a fleeting moment. She preferred a spot at the end of the hallway, where she could enjoy observing herself in the mirror. She was four, and a few years earlier her mom had gone through the long arduous process of adoption. “Anderson,” I said to her, “tell me about your necklace.” The necklace was formed, in the shape of a heart, from the letters “GOD.” “I bought the necklace from God,” she told me. “And what did you say when you visited God?” I asked. “I love you, I love you, I love you,” she responded. “And did God tell you that He loves you?” I queried. “Oh yes, He did. Everybody loves me!”

You may be wondering why Anderson’s story comes back to me on Ash Wednesday, a time of remembering our sins, of focusing on our human frailty, of begging for God’s forgiveness. Keep that thought….

Our Matthew text sets out for us the traditional disciplines of Lent: prayer, fasting, and alms giving. During Lent we take extra care to look for ways to spend time in prayer, to search our souls, to listen for God and follow God’s leading. We often let go of something in order to make time for God. We may clear space by giving up a food we cherish, or by not watching TV or playing electronic games. And in it all, we put extra intention and energy into sharing with others.

In a few moments Mel and I will dip our thumbs in the ashes and make the sign of the cross on your foreheads. We’ll say to each of you the words that have been said on this day for centuries: “Remember you are dust, and to dust you shall return.” Why do we re-enact this ritual?

First, these ashes remind us who we are. The Bible tells us that the first human was formed out of the dust of the earth by God, and that God breathed life into that dust. What a powerful image! Without the spirit of God moving in us, we are as lifeless as these ashes.

These ashes are also a symbol of our repentance. The Bible tells numerous stories of people coming to God in sack cloth and ashes to repent and ask for forgiveness. 

So Lent is a time of repentance, of humbling ourselves before God and begging for God’s mercy. Now let’s return to Anderson. Lent is also a time to remember and give thanks for God’s love. When we make the sign of the cross on your forehead, we are celebrating the extravagant and unconditional love of God for each of us. If only we could take down our filters that block that love, and live in the full realization of God’s love, our strivings would cease and we’d live in peace with ourselves and our brothers and sisters.

An ancient Jewish teaching says that every person should carry two pieces of paper, one in the right pocket and the other in the left. On one piece we are to write “I am dust and ashes.” On the other we write: “For my sake the world was created.” The key to abundant life is balancing these two truths.

During Lent, may we acknowledge our sin, ask for and receive God’s forgiveness, then go forth to live as God’s forgiven people, full of God’s love, grace and power. And may our treasure lie in the hope that God keeps on coming to us in love, offering God’s powerful grace to wash us clean and make us new.

EMPTINESS AND FULLNESS 

Mark 9:2-9; Ephesians 3:14-17

A sermon by Mel Williams

Watts Street Baptist Church

February 19, 2012

Empty yourself completely and sit waiting, content with the grace of God, like the chick who tastes nothing and eats nothing but what his mother gives him. – Romuald’s Brief Rule (ON COVER + Eph. 3:14-17

Yesterday’s luncheon was a feast of friends and family! I am deeply grateful for the opportunity I’ve had to be your pastor for these almost 24 years. I send extravagant thanks for your love and for the goodness of the luncheon yesterday and the lively party two weeks ago. What a celebration! Jan joins me in sending our heartfelt gratitude. 

The luncheon gathering yesterday felt like being on a mountaintop with all of you; and that leads directly to our text for today—another mountaintop experience. Jesus goes for a walk with his disciples; and while he’s on that mountain, an amazing thing happens. It’s a shimmering moment, a revelation. There on the mountain the disciples see Jesus transfigured before them, and they also see Elijah and Moses talking to Jesus. They’re spellbound! In their euphoria they say, “Let’s build three booths and stay here.” They are filled up; they’re saying “It doesn’t get better than this.” After our recent celebrations, I think I know how they felt.

The disciples had a compelling religious experience. Their experience invites us to reflect on our spiritual search, and to explore where we are on our spiritual journey. What happened to the disciples on that mountain reminds me of Isaiah’s vision. “I saw the Lord high and lifted up, and his train filled the temple.” Isaiah’s experience happened not on a mountain, but in church.

The intention of church, of worship, is that we come here to commune with God, to have a direct experience with God. But we may also fear what we want; we may distrust it. We may resist an experience of the holy. I’ve long wondered about the many different reasons we come to church—to please parents or grandparents, to socialize with interesting people, enjoy the music, spend an hour reflecting on your life. There are many reasons for coming here.

I suggest that we come here for this reason: to hang out with Jesus and Jesus’ people. You may not state it this way; but...think about it. Those first disciples were hanging out with Jesus, doing something ordinary, like going for a walk. When we hang out with Jesus, some remarkable things can happen. We are drawn to him. We study his life. We want his spirit to become our spirit. We want to align our energies with his energies—love, mercy, compassion. We want to be like Jesus. And after awhile, if we hang around with Jesus and his people long enough, we may see some people here who remind us of Jesus. At some point we may even be bold enough to sing: Lord, I want to be like Jesus, in-a my heart, in-a my heart…”

How do we become like Jesus? I have some clues, but first let me back up to get started. One of my hopes for the future of WSBC is that you continue to be a vital authentic, caring community; that compassion and mission will always be top priority; that worship and prayer will deepen at the center of this faith community; that you continue to grow as individuals, always open to being changed by the Gospel and the love and challenge that emerges in this community. You’ve heard me say it before: This place is humming now, humming with grace. I hope that you continue to be open to the amazing grace and goodness that is so evident in the life of this congregation.

Now—if these hopes for the future become reality, there is an inner process that must take place. We don’t control the future; we participate in God’s good future by cooperating with the flow of God’s spirit. The goal is to align our energy with God’s energy, our will with God’s will. That’s what Jesus did!

To be like Jesus, how do we do it? We have various spiritual practices that help us; but I submit that the primary place this inner transformation/ alignment, happens is at church— in worship, at the times when we open our hearts to the love of God, to the spirit of Jesus that abides here. 

Carlyle Marney tells of one of his last visits with his aged father. He decided to ask him about his faith journey. “Dad, I’ve had the impression that your faith has always been solid?” His dad said, “No, no, it’s been riddled with doubt and struggle.” Marney said, “I had the sense to ask him ‘When was your faith right.’” His elderly father paused and said, “When I could get to the meeting.”

We come to the meeting, we come to worship, to be realigned, to be renewed, to be re-connected to the life-giving energies that the Holy One sends.

We worship leaders, we who drive the worship bus, may have to find additional practices that invite rejuvenation. Over the past 16 years you have graciously supported me each year in my spiritual renewal at the monastery. What happens to me there is a kind of “annual spiritual,” akin to an annual physical. It’s a time to pay a visit on myself and see who’s at home. It’s a time to release the carbon deposits, weep over losses, and allow my spiritual system to breathe freely, to experience a re-alignment of my life with my True Self. That’s what worship/prayer/silence gives us. It’s a gift we cannot give ourselves. So we show up here. We too know that we’ll be alright if we can “get to the meeting.”

All of us need a re-alignment, a re-awakening of the spiritual force within us. This week we’re entering Lent, the season when we stay with Jesus in his dark time, his time of testing. We all go through our dark times, times when we may feel that we’re losing our way. We need to be attentive to that dark night of the soul, because that desert place can be a sign that our spiritual transmission needs repair. Like our cars, we may need to spend some time “in the shop.” Maybe our spiritual engine needs to be overhauled. So we come to church. We show up, like those disciples showing up on that walk up the mountain with Jesus. 

The goal for our individual lives and our life together is that we will be pumping on all cylinders. That’s always been one of my hopes for this church—that all our cylinders (worship, caring community, Christian education, and mission) are functioning at optimal levels. But we also need periodic repair, re-alignment. We need to be replenished, re-filled.

This is what Paul means when he says “that you may be filled with all the fullness of God.” I believe God wants all of us to function at our optimal level. I think this is what Jesus meant when he said, “I have come that you may have life, abundant life—fullness of life.”

But there are times when we feel more emptiness than fullness; there are times when we feel inadequate, incomplete, un-ready. Every week before coming out here to preach and lead worship, I go through these feelings. You may not see those feelings; much of it happens in my study, in my pacing, in my doubts and uncertainties. I’ve learned that we act our way into confidence; we act our way into courage; we act our way into receiving the fullness.

But we can’t have fullness without first knowing emptiness. There is a story about a university professor who came to a Zen master to ask him about Zen. Nan-in, the Zen master, served him tea. He poured his visitor’s cup full, and then kept pouring. The professor watched the overflow until he could no longer restrain himself. “It is over-full. No more will go in!” Nan-in said, “Like this cup, you are full of your own opinions and speculations. How can I teach you Zen unless you first empty your cup.” (from Henri Nouwen, Out of Solitude, p. 42)

Here is the paradox. The more we can empty ourselves, the more we will be ready to receive fullness. The more we can let go of our worries, troubles, bothers, opinions, concerns, anxieties, the more space we make for the fullness. Brooks Booth has reminded me that we talked years ago of the image of putting our worries, our anxieties on an imaginary boat, and let them float off. Oh yes, they will come back; but we simply send the boat out again. Let it go. 

I heard someone say, “Love means letting go.” We love our children as they grow up, and then we have to let them go. We love our partner or spouse, but we don’t control them. We let them go so they can grow toward the sun in their own way.

We love our pastor, and this pastor loves you. But with the coming transition, we will let each other go. Of course, I will pray for you and send you energy for your well-being and the well-being of this congregation. As Henri Nouwen has taught, absence can bring a presence in a way that we didn’t know earlier. When Jesus left the disciples, he said, “I will send the Spirit to guide you.” And the spirit of Jesus is with us and his Spirit has continued with us through these thousands of years.

What about the fullness? Jesus said, “I have come that you may have life in abundance.” Not half-life, not mediocre life, not mere existence. But fullness of life. The earliest Christians prayed “Lord, make us truly alive.”

Annie Dillard says that grace is like holding your cup under a waterfall. In other words, extend your empty cup and see how a waterfall of grace will fill your cup. It’s a gift—this fullness. That’s why we need to show up here in a receiving mode. Empty yourself completely, and sit waiting, content with the grace of God. To receive we need an empty bucket.

But we may feel ambivalent about emptiness; it may scare us. In my bouts with emptiness, I’ve found that my emptiness can be a welcome reality. When my cup is empty, when my bucket is empty, there is more room, more space, for whatever goodness the Spirit is sending. 

Emptiness is really spaciousness. Gradually, as the filling happens, there is spontaneous gratitude. At various times, I have felt a rush of goodness, a rush of gratitude, and I’ve heard a voice saying, “You need a bigger bucket.” After the luncheon yesterday and the February 4 Fair Well party, I’ve felt filled up with grace and goodness. The giver is God, but you delivered the grace.

I may feel empty again after I leave here on March 4. It’s a process. We go through times of emptiness, releasing, letting go—but that emptiness is not a bad thing; it means that we’re creating spaciousness, being open to being filled. We’ve emptied to make more space for God’s grace to enter. 

I think this is the time for all of us to place our empty buckets under the waterfall. Thanks be to God for grace. And thanks be to God for each of you.

Community Is God’s Strategy Jeremiah 31:31-34; Ephesians 2:4-10, 17-22

A sermon by Mel Williams

Watts Street Baptist Church

February 12, 2012

What is God up to? Isn’t that question one of the reasons we show up here? Aren’t we seeking to help each other discover and discern where God is at work? If we want to find out where God is at work, the best place to start is to study our own life. Our hope is that if we can figure out what God is up to, then we can be doing the same thing.

I believe that one of God’s major goals is building community, creating vital faith communities. Community is God’s strategy for bringing love, justice, and peace. Community is God’s strategy at Watts Street Baptist Church.

Let me tell you a story of what happened here a week ago. Last Saturday in the fellowship hall of this church you threw a party called a “Fair Well Party for Mel and Jan.” We felt honored and delighted with the party. You had dozens of balloons, tomato sandwiches, lots of music—a hymn sing and three different bands (Ron’s Band, the Bulltown Strutters, and the OLLIE swing band). Our people were dancing and clapping and having fun. You had an ice cream bicycle truck, strolling monks who looked like monks from my monastery, a history room with records from the past 24 years, a slide show, a scrapbook, face painting, ice cream, lemonade, popcorn—and Moon Pies and tomato sandwiches. It doesn’t get much better than that! It was outrageously wonderful! People were smiling, laughing, dancing, hugging.

I felt enormously grateful for the party. But I want to tell you what I learned from that party. What I learned from the Fair Well party was not about me. The party taught me about YOU. You are a vital, authentic, vibrant, joyful community of faith. The party showed me your strength, your health, your enormous well-being, your capacity for love and caring and fun. The party was a love feast—and love energy was flowing freely throughout the gathering.

As I’ve reflected on the party, I’ve had a revelation. The party gave me some signs about what God is up to here. God’s strategy is community. Pau says in Ephesians that we are “equipping the saints for the work of ministry, for the building up of the body of Christ.” (Ephesians 4:12) God’s strategy is building up the WSBC faith community. God’s strategy is showing you/us that this is a vibrant, free, buoyant, life-giving community. This is what God is up to here.

The major concern of the Bible is to offer a description of what God is up to. We could say that God is the healing, life-giving force in the world. A friend of mine defines God as “the energy for goodness.” Where in our life do we see God at work bringing goodness, healing, and fullness of life?

We might say that we find goodness, healing, and fullness of life in our private, individual lives. God loves each one of us, but the Bible resists allowing us to put undue emphasis on a “me and my God” individualism. God keeps turning us away from our self-centered, individual needs to a wider goal.

The central goal of all religions is belonging. We have a basic need to belong. If we don’t belong to a church, we belong to a book club, a coffee club, a women’s club, a hiking club, a basketball team or fan club, a singing group, a band. Some young people belong to gangs, and gang members can get into trouble. A gang is a substitute for church. We all have a need for a gang; we need to belong. The essence of all faith traditions is belonging---to God and one another. God knows that we need to belong.

That’s why God is in the business of forming us into a people. In the Old Testament, it’s called “covenant.” God says, “I will be your God, and you will be my people.” We belong together—covenant community.

God’s central concern is people, especially those who suffer. God reaches out to people with grace, forgiveness, healing, and steadfast love. Who among us doesn’t long for these gifts? And when grace, forgiveness and love reach us, we find that these emerge not from our isolated, personal groanings and grapplings, but from our relationships—in our families, our friendships, and our spiritual family—the church. 

What is God up to? God is up to building a community of love and justice and hope--- through relationships. In the Letter to the Ephesians, Paul says that “God, who is rich in mercy, out of great love for us, made us ALIVE TOGETHER with Christ…” The good news is that God loves us, forgives us, heals us and calls us into God’s dream—the Beloved Community. We have times when we see it and feel it clearly—like the MLK Sunday when we had diverse Durham in the sanctuary, like the party last Saturday when the room was electric with love and delight—and like the Sweetheart party at lunch today!

I think Jesus keeps showing up at times like this. Jesus is teaching us that in his life and relationships, the Beloved Community is here. He called this community the Kingdom of God. Jesus wanted us to keep building the beloved community where people come first, where hospitality and love are at the heart of our life together. That’s what happened at the party here last Saturday.

We also know that relationships are not easy. Building community takes an investment of time, energy, and attentiveness—love. W. H. Auden defines love as “the intensity of attention.” Paying attention to one another is at the heart of being community. We build community as we welcome each other and listen to each other, paying attention to our life-stories as we come to know and be known, to trust and be trusted. This is a great challenge for all of us. It takes energy and patience.

Some years ago I asked in a sermon here for all of us to do two things. I asked you to increase your financial pledge and get to know six new Watts Street people in this congregation. Following the service I had several people come to me and say, “I’m glad to increase my pledge, but I don’t think I can get to know six new people. That’s too hard” That was an honest response. 

Knowing each other takes energy. But knowing each other and building a coherent community of faith is, I believe, what God is up to. This is how God has worked in the past and how God is working among us now.

Richard Rohr, from whom I got the title for this sermon, tells about preaching one time in Africa, in the cathedral of Nairobi. At the end of his sermon, the people were invited to pray together. They trooped to the front of the sanctuary and all sat on the floor. An old black man prayed, “Lord, never let us move into stone houses.” People nodded and said, “Yes, Lord.” Rohr said, “I had no idea what this prayer actually meant.” So after the prayer service, he asked the priest why the man had said this prayer. The priest said, “You know Africa, you’ve seen our country. People here live in little huts, and huts have no doors. That’s why your family is my family, and my family is your family. The only family is the extended family. But as soon as you move into a stone house, you build a door. And on the door you put a lock. And behind this door you begin to collect your belongings, and then you have to spend the rest of your life defending those belongings.” Then the world is divided for all time into “mine” and “thine.” (Rohr, p. 88, Simplicity)

The church is more than “mine” and “thine, more than “me” and “you.” It’s “we, us, and our.” We are in this together. We have made a covenant to hang in there with each other through thick and thin, to love each other, forgive each other, and continue the ministry of Jesus. That means we keep finding ways to welcome one another, to bond together and announce the good news—to keep on shaping at Watts Street the Beloved Community of healing, justice, and peace. 

From the beginning God has been shaping us into a people. First, God called Israel to be the covenant people. Then through Jesus, God called a band of disciples to be a covenant people. That band of disciples around Jesus gradually became the church.

It is increasingly clear that God’s strategy is community—covenant people. We can see the beginnings of this covenant community in marriage, in friendships, covenant partnerships, and in our families. All of these relationships are challenging. We all know stories of fractured relationships—divorces, alienation. We know that many marriages and friendships and family relationships can be strained from disagreements, personality differences, old pain, or maybe plain old stubbornness.

On one of my annual visits to the monastery, I stood at the door of the chapel and there was a sign on the front door—a sign inviting guests to sign up for a marriage enrichment event at one of the nearby churches. The flyer read: Every marriage goes through four stages. I think you could say every partnership or friendship or church community goes through these four predictable stages: enchantment, disenchantment, misery, and awakening. The next line of the flyer read, “Most relationships/most partnerships never reach stage four.”

If God is in the business of building community, strengthening our relationships, then we might look at these four stages. They may not always move in orderly sequence. We may go back and forth, but here are the stages—applied to us as church.

Stage 1 is enchantment: We love the blush of new beginnings. There is usually a fervor or euphoria at the beginning of our relationships. We’re delighted to be with other. We’re in love with the possibilities the community offers and what these new friends represent to us. With this rush of energy, we are ready to commit, to give our hearts to this group, this church. 

Then comes disenchantment—stage 2. Here we begin to see what’s missing. We find out that the community is not perfect. We begin to find things wrong with the organization, the theology, the present situation, and maybe we didn’t like the tuna casserole that was served at some church luncheon—or the sermon or the hymns. The luster of the beginning wears off, and we get annoyed and disappointed. We start looking for flaws. Maybe it’s like living with a roommate who leaves clothes on the floor, or squeezes the toothpaste from the middle and not the end of the tube. We find ourselves getting bothered, and we become critical. This happens in relationships with a spouse or partner or friend or in our church community. Welcome to stage two—disenchantment.

That leads to stage 3—misery. Stage three can be daunting and troubling. Here we have the opportunity to work our way through the distress, or decide that the relationship is not working. Here we are in the desert, the dark night of the soul, the time of temptation. We’re getting depressed. We may stop going to Sunday school, and the class members don’t even call to check on you. You had some medical problems, but no one from the church found out that you were sick. Gradually the grievances begin to mount. Communication with friends or fellow church members becomes intermittent at best. You become isolated and down in the dumps. Misery has set in.

When we’re in this kind of desert, if we can persevere, we’re ready for stage 4—awakening. From a spiritual perspective, the darkest part of the night is just before the dawn. If we are willing to hang in there through our distress, and stay in communication—with God and each other, we can start moving past the misery to authentic awakening.

Here is the place where I sometimes say, “If there are weeds in our path, let’s get rid of them. If there is static on our line, let’s remove the static.” How? By sitting down and talking it out. Confessing our feelings to each other is the only way toward forgiveness. No close relationship can make it without forgiveness. 

When we “get it,” when we internalize the forgiveness, we begin to awaken, to be attentive, to be grateful for our life together, warts and all.

These four stages—enchantment, disenchantment, misery, and awakening—may not move in exact sequence. We may move back and forth through the stages. But if we can trust the process and stay with each other through the ups and downs, we will move toward awakening. Remember that when someone asked the Buddha if he were a celestial being or a god, he said, “No.” Then what are you? The Buddha said, “I am awake.”

We all want to be awake and grateful. But we know there are times when we disappoint each other. We are forgetful. We fail to be attentive. And that’s where our Watts Street covenant is so crucial. We have made a covenant to stay with each other—forgive each other, stop judging each other, to learn to love each other. And in this church, as in our families, our job is to learn to love the most difficult person, the person who bothers us the most. I’m convinced that this difficult person is the one from whom we learn the most. That person has much to teach us. Learning to love this person and others happens only through prayer and listening and forgiving—over and over. It’s called love.

As this love takes hold of us, we begin to awaken to God’s goodness. We begin to see that God is at work bringing reconciliation and healing. We begin to allow God to use us, to nudge us to be builders of a healthy community. Coherent community leads to coherent mission. This community, this mission is one of the great strengths of this church; it’s a great sign for the future.

God’s great longing is that we be one people, God’s people. When we can trust the process—through enchantment, disenchantment, and misery, we can move to awakening to the goodness of God in our midst. We awaken to come to the party where there is laughter, singing, dancing, and delight. Awakening to see that there is one thing more precious than one’s life—and that is our life together.

God’s strategy is community. We are not here by chance. God has brought us together. Together we discover where God is working, so we can be doing the same thing.

So may it be. Amen.

SOLITUDE AND SERVICE Isaiah 40:21-31; Mark 1:29-39

A homily by Mel Williams

Watts Street Baptist Church

February 5, 2012

They who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength. (Isaiah 40:31)

Yesterday’s Fair Well party was filled with fun and festivity; and I’m filled with gratitude for each of you and for this church. But now in worship we are shifting to another way of lifting our spirits.

The Scripture today prompts me to say a word about solitude and service, prayer and mission. In these remaining weeks with you, I have wanted to say what has become clear to me. What are my Lessons Learned?

One of my major interests in ministry has been forging a vital relationship between prayer and social justice. My question is this: How can we harness the energy of the Spirit—within each of us—for service and action?

One of my mentors has been Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel, who was Professor of Mysticism and Ethics at Jewish Theological Seminary in New York. When you see the famous picture of Martin Luther King, Jr. marching in Selma, Alabama, the white bearded gentleman beside Dr. King is Rabbi Heschel. He said, “We are praying with our feet.” 

Jesus spent a lot of time with people. He was an activist preacher who also prayed with his feet; he was an agitator for the Kingdom, the Beloved Community. Last Sunday’s Luke 4 text summed up Jesus’ mission: good news to the poor, release to the captives, restoring sight to the blind, and proclaiming the Jubilee year when rights are restored to all. 

Jesus’ mission has now become our mission. At baptism we all say “Jesus is Lord.” If “Lord” is has an over-bearing connotation to you, then let’s re-phrase it as “Life Director.” Jesus is our Life Director, our Life Coach.

In the text today Jesus has been helping the sick and healing those with psychological hang-ups (they called them “demons.”) In the middle of all this action, the text has a simple sentence that may be the very key to Jesus’ mission. After Jesus is healing suffering people, casting out demons, traveling from town to town, preaching in various synagogues, then tucked in between all this action there is a quiet sentence: “In the morning, long before dawn, he got up and left the house, and went off to a lonely place and prayed.” Jesus knows he needs solitude; he’s looking for a quiet place, stillness, a time for breathing. After much togetherness, there is solitude.

I see this text modeling for us three movements that are crucial for our spiritual health. The three movements are 1. Solitude 2. Community and 3. Mission.

We know we’re headed into times of transition—for this church as you search for an interim pastor—and for me as I transition to retirement, which I like to call commencement. Transitions bring uncertainty and anxiety, which is why we need to anchor ourselves in our spiritual practice. Jesus is showing us the way, coaching us by example. He finds a deserted place, a “lonely place,” where he can be silent. 

Silence is essential, especially when our lives are in transition—and most of us are in one kind of transition or another. Transitions can clutter our minds and hearts; so many details, so much change—topsy turvy. That’s why we need times to collect ourselves, to center ourselves. We need our “lonely place” where we find again that Silence is the source of sound. 

The only way we can listen is to be silent. (Somebody said that’s why God gave us two ears and one mouth—so we will listen twice as much as we speak.) Nouwen defines solitude as “time alone with God.” He defines silence as “listening to God.” Sometimes we get too busy telling God all our troubles that we forget to listen. Solitude is essential; without solitude we can get out of balance. Silence is a time to “empty yourself and sit, content with the grace of God.”

After Jesus’ time in solitude and silence, his disciples came and found him. “Everybody is searching for you,” they said. The people wanted to be around Jesus. Here is the second movement—to community. We need to be together. Especially in times of change and transition, we need each other. We need each other for strength, challenge, encouragement. We borrow from each other’s energy. Community is essential if we are to find our way through tough times.

When the disciples came and found Jesus, he said to them, “Let’s get busy with our mission. Here’s the third movement: solitude to community to mission. “Let’s go to neighboring towns and take our message of God’s love, compassion, and healing.” Watts Street Baptist Church is a mission congregation, a justice church. Mission is at the heart of our life; in the future it must continue—with unflagging vigor.

We are fortunate now to have a child care mission initiative, with a strong group of leaders exploring how our church facilities might be used to provide affordable, quality childcare for low income residents who need to work. This is an enormous need in our city where as many as 2000 families are on the waiting list for affordable childcare. This is a promising mission for the future. I hope that mission will become a reality. Likewise, our 12 other mission groups continue to offer specific avenues for our members to be involved in continuing the mission and ministry of Jesus.

But we learn from Jesus that our mission must first be anchored in prayer and silence. The effectiveness of our missions is directly related to the effectiveness of our silence.

My grandfather, Watson Williams (“Papa”), was a simple man, a rag-tag farmer in the 1940s and 50s. Papa had an old mule that pulled a hand plow through the Moore County soil. When I was a child, I recall that Papa decided he needed a larger piece of land for his farming. So, he and his neighbors cut down bushes and pulled out stumps to prepare a new spot for gardening. Papa called the spot “new ground.” I can still hear him saying, “You want to walk with me over to New Ground?”

In a sense the coming transition is a time for clearing out brush and stumps for some new ground—where new crops will grow.

The crop image can instruct us further. When you plant, you’re tossing tiny seeds into “new ground,” seeds that will grow IN THE SILENCE. It takes patience to be a seed sower, a gardener. It requires good planning, planting, and then patience and waiting and trusting. 

Mel—Sing (Isaiah 40) They who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength. They shall mount up with wings like eagles. They shall run and not be weary. They shall walk and not faint. They who wait for the Lord will know peace.

THE RELIGION OF JESUS Luke 4:14-21

A sermon by Mel Williams

Watts Street Baptist Church

January 29, 2012

“You can’t just talk the talk; you’ve got to walk the walk.” We’ve heard that statement many times, and we’re usually talking about living out our faith—not words only, but deeds, actions.

When I first came to Durham, I went to a dedication of some new Habitat houses where our Watts Street members had been closely involved in the construction. Millard Fuller, the founder of Habitat, was here to speak at the dedication. He looked out over these new houses, and he said, “Folks, we’re looking at a sermon. I’d rather see a sermon any day than hear one.”

Words and deeds are both important; but we often say, “Actions speak louder than words.” Jesus was a person of action and words. The reason I’m drawn to Jesus, the reason I’m a Christian, is that Jesus’ actions match his words. His words and deeds are consistent and congruent. In Jesus’ interactions and healings, we get to see a sermon as well as hear one. But his actions are compelling—healing, feeding, forgiving, showing compassion. As St. Francis is reported to have said, “Preach the gospel at all times; if necessary, use words.”

Did you notice in our Luke 4 text? Jesus starts his ministry with words. We could turn that old statement around and say, “It’s not only important to walk the walk; it’s also important to talk the talk.” In other words, we need to articulate the essence of our faith, what we believe. 

That means that we need to go back and get it—back to what Howard Thurman called “the religion of Jesus.” Thurman was an African American theologian, mystic, teacher of many leaders of the Civil Rights Movement. Thurman says that the great problem has been Christianity, which has been used as a tool of oppression—to support slavery and segregation and the oppression of women and gays and lesbians. Christianity has often betrayed those who have been marginalized. Christianity has too often been a tool of the powerful, the dominant group; and it has been used, at times, as an instrument of oppression. “Slaves, obey your master.”

But the religion of Jesus is different from Christianity. Our job is to get back to the religion of Jesus, not the corruption that Christianity has brought. Jesus himself was a poor, marginalized Jew, which is why oppressed people have found in Jesus an advocate, a champion for their dignity, their rights.

If Jesus is the clear advocate for the oppressed, what then is the religion of Jesus? Jesus started with words. Some have called the Luke 4 text his inaugural sermon, but he’s actually reading from the book of Isaiah. These words point to actions— “I’ve been sent to preach good news to the poor, release to the captives, recovery of sight to the blind, freedom for the oppressed, and to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor—the Jubilee year, the year when all financial debts are forgiven and rights are restored.”

This text has become central to me, to my faith. Why? If we say “Jesus is Lord,” that means we are followers of Jesus. If Luke 4 is Jesus’ mission statement, that means that his mission now becomes our mission. Where he leads, we will follow.

We could easily re-write Luke 4 and say, “The Spirit of the Lord is upon US—all of us at Watts Street Baptist Church—calling us to do the same actions—bring good news to the poor, release to the captives, sight to those who can’t see clearly, free the oppressed from whatever has enslaved them, and restore the rights to those who have been denied their rights.

If we are followers of Jesus, this is what we’ll be doing—continuing Jesus’ mission. But you might say, “This sounds impossible!” But it’s our mandate, our manifesto, our marching orders.

How can we do it? It may help us to look at the first part of the text: “Then Jesus filled with the power of the Spirit—filled with the power of the Spirit—returned to Galilee, first teaching in the synagogues. Mark 1 says that Jesus was in Capernaum; and when the Sabbath came, he entered the synagogue and taught.” (Mark 1:21)

 “Filled with the power of the Spirit,” Jesus went to church and taught. How did he get filled with the Spirit? I have an educated guess, a hunch. The historical Jesus was a human being, like you and me. He did not arrive here as a supernatural being; he was like us. But he spent large chunks of time with God. He had a persistent, disciplined life of prayer. Yes, he spent a lot of time with people—teaching, healing, and leading his little band of disciples. But over and over, he left the crowds, he left his disciples, and he went off to a quiet place to pray.

What kind of prayer? Surely at times his prayer was words; but he also sat in silence and stillness—wordless prayer. He anchored himself in the Silence that is the source of all sound. He opened himself, emptied himself, so that he could be filled with the energy of the Spirit. In other words, Jesus was a contemplative, a mystic. He lived his life in the Spirit, staying connected to the Source of his energy and power. That’s why Luke reports that he was “filled with the power of the Spirit.”

It was this deep connectedness to God, the Spirit, that made Jesus such a buoyant, compelling, magnetic person. People were drawn to him. They wanted what he had. I am drawn to him. I want what he had. I want the religion of Jesus, the person of prayer.

This is why the Gospel of John says, “In him was life, and the life was the light of all people.” Wherever Jesus’ spirit appears, the weak and oppressed find LIFE—new energy and a burst of courage, for Jesus gave them good news: As Howard Thurman says, it’s the good news that “fear, hypocrisy, and hatred…need have no dominion over them.” (Howard Thurman, p. 29, Jesus and the Disinherited)

It is from this perspective that I see the May 8 statewide vote on the marriage amendment as a proposal coming from fear and discrimination against same sex couples. This marriage ban comes from oppressive Christianity, not the religion of Jesus.

Jesus found his energy from his prayer, his communion with God. Then he turned to release that energy on behalf of the poor, the oppressed, the least privileged people. He was a prophet, a social reformer. In the tradition of Isaiah and Jeremiah and the other prophets, Jesus spoke God’s word to the people and the power structure of his day. He criticized the economic, political, and religious leaders of his time. He advocated an alternative social vision, and he often got into trouble with the authorities because of his vision. (from Marcus Borg, Meeting Jesus Again for the First Time)

What is Jesus’ social vision? He was a non-violent person who embodied non-violence in his actions. He did not support hierarchical power; he did not support rulers lording it over their subjects. He supports servant leadership—a towel and basin for washing feet. Power, he said, is not found in status, but in service. He rides into Jerusalem not on a stallion but on a donkey, the beast of burden. Like the donkey, Jesus is always carrying burdens. Jesus calls us to be servants as he was a servant. When did you see me hungry—or thirsty or sick or in prison? (Mt. 25 When you minister to any of these, you minister to me.” 

The religion of Jesus is compassion. When Jesus says in the synagogue, “Today this Scripture is fulfilled,” he’s giving notice that he’s standing in solidarity with the marginal people—the poor, the sick, the mistreated, the left out. Compassion is the ability to stand in solidarity with the people others don’t care about—the victims, those whose backs are against the wall, those who don’t have a voice. 

It may sound simplistic to say, “God will take care of you.” But Jesus embodied that care. He showed his caring for every person; he turned no one away. The essence of the religion of Jesus is that he cares for you, for me. When we internalize that care, we are given confidence and assurance that cruelty, violence, poverty, and discrimination will not have the final word.

Many people would rather turn away from suffering, drive past it on the freeway. It’s too painful to see it, so it’s too easy to insulate ourselves from the hurt. But not Jesus, and not Jesus’ people. Compassion means breaking through the numbness and allowing oneself to embrace the feeling or situation of another. It may be easy to give money for this cause or that cause; but compassion is more than money. I heard someone say recently, “The wealth of congregations is not in its money, but in the pews—the people.” It’s involvement, getting our hands dirty. Compassion is a trademark quality of this congregation. We learned it from Jesus.

Finally, the religion of Jesus is forgiveness—for the captives and those who are saddled with debt. Without forgiveness, all of us are trapped in the past, trapped in guilt, trapped in anger or bitterness—trapped. The most radical thing Jesus ever did was to forgive sin. Even on the cross, he said, “Father, forgive them…” The New Vision, the New Community, that Jesus is bringing is based on forgiveness. 

A Christian is a person who follows Jesus and claims the religion of Jesus. We pattern our life after his life. He was a mystic and a social reformer. We seek to follow him and imitate his life. We may fail; but we are seeking to draw our energy from the springs of prayer and to keeping opening the circle to the weak, the poor, the left out. That’s the religion of Jesus.

May it also be our religion.

mp3 file for guest preacher Rev. Jim Forbes for MLK Sunday at WSBC, Jan. 15, 2012

CALLED Mark 1:14-20

• a sermon by Mel Williams
• Watts Street Baptist Church
• January 22, 2012

How could they do it? How could these everyday people leave their homes, families, and villages to follow Jesus around the countryside? It seems remarkable, a bit odd, even shocking that these hard-working men would leave everything to follow a Galilean peasant-preacher. Why would they do it?

Imagine what this would be like today! Imagine how the local newspaper story would read: “Local citizens join itinerant religious leader.” “Two sons of prominent citizen Zebedee Jones left Durham Friday following an appeal from an itinerant religious leader to come follow him. The leader, called Jesus of Bahama, is founder of a small band of people moving around the countryside teaching, proclaiming the Kingdom of God, and healing disease and sickness. Two other brothers, Peter and Andrew Duke, proprietors of a fishing business, have also joined the traveling religious leader.”

We read it and shake our heads in disbelief. “How could they do that?” Then comes the chatter down the phone lines and at the coffee pot: “How could they do that to their dear father Zebedee! For the past dozen years he’s worked in his fishing business, getting it ready for his sons to take over the business. And now look what happens! Some fly-by-night, smooth-sounding religious huckster captures those boys. There ought to be a law!”

But there are also other opinions, more sympathetic. “Those fellows have moxie! Thank God! We need some big changes around here; and if this guy Jesus can make a difference, we need to send our young people to help him. Two years of missionary service will be good for them! After all, we hear that this Jesus is going to start a new movement, a new era. He can help people get healed. He can maybe even help get the Romans off our necks. He can help our people have a better life. We’ve got too much suffering all around here--- injustice, illness, poverty. We need to see some changes! Maybe this Jesus can wake us up and shake us out of our doldrums. Maybe some disciples from around here can help Jesus move us toward God’s dream.”

I suspect that some of this attitude got stirred that day inside Peter and Andrew, James and John! When Jesus said to them, “Follow me,” something must have clicked inside them. Something or someone must have moved them to say Yes. 

After all, there are major moments in any of our lives when it seems that the light comes on, and we get changed! We’re different, and we head in a new direction.

Jim Forbes’ sermon here last Sunday was a spellbinder—a “stem-winder” as one person called it. With his Pentecostal fervor, Jim clearly called for a spiritual awakening, to allow the Spirit in us to rise and stir us to action for God’s work. That sermon reminded me of another MLK service some years ago. It was the city-wide MLK service, where the preacher was Dr. Lorenzo Shannon. He asked a poignant question: “Have you had a defining moment in your life?” It just may be that the Spirit shows up most clearly in these defining moments.

These are the moments that shape us, move us, and change us. The speaker said, “My defining moment came in 1959, when Martin Luther King, Jr. came back to Morehouse College to deliver the baccalaureate address at graduation. (He had graduated there in 1948.) In his sermon Dr. King talked about Rip Van Winkle who went to sleep when there was a picture on the wall of King George VI. But when he woke up, there was a new picture on the wall of George Washington, the first President of the US. Rip Van Winkle had slept through a revolution. And in 1959, at the front edge of the Civil Rights Movement, Dr. King said to all the young Morehouse graduates, “Are you going to sleep through a revolution in this country?”

It’s a good question. And in a sense this was an implied question behind Jesus’ words to the first disciples. Are you going to sleep through a revolution, or will you join me—follow me—in bringing about the revolution? We can make a choice: sit on the tailgate of the car, looking back at where we have been (nostalgia!). Or we can decide to sit up front and help provide some direction, to help steer the car for the road ahead (future).

These must have been some of the concerns of the disciples as they pondered Jesus’ words “Follow me.” Will you help me steer this movement toward God’s goal? Or will you stay behind and look back at where we’ve already been?

These are questions involving choices, intentions, and effort. We could look at these four disciples and see them as bold heroes because they decided to follow Jesus. Look what they did! Look at their courage, their daring, and their resolve! But when we read the story carefully, we see that it doesn’t focus on details of their internal process. The story doesn’t talk about their human efforts. After Jesus says, “Follow me,” the story simply says, “Immediately they left their nets and followed him.” Immediately! It seems that there is a Force at work here, larger than the will and effort of these four men.

With our very human response, we might look at these four disciples and say, “How could they do this? How could they leave their work, their families and friends to go travel with Jesus? How could they do it?” 

And maybe our best answer is: They didn’t do it. God did it. We can place too much emphasis on the will power, the choice, of the disciples. But this is not a story of the disciples’ heroic deeds. This is the story of God’s persuasive power to change people’s lives. This is a story of God’s initiative, God moving “right up to a quartet of fishermen and working a miracle, creating faith where there was no faith, creating disciples where there were none just a moment before.” (Barbara Brown Taylor, p. 40, Home By Another Way)

There are times in our lives—defining moments—when God moves us to do things that we, by our own will and effort, would never do. We find ourselves called—nudged, pushed, carried in a direction that we didn’t know we would go.

My father spent 40 years as a truck driver, steering an 18-wheeler truck and trailer to deliver textiles from Carolina to New England. I thought trucking was a great profession. Maybe I would be a truck driver like my dad! But something happened that surprised me. I got nudged, called, carried in the direction of ministry. I liked people, loved the church; and somehow I heard the message through sermons and songs that touched my heart. “Softly and tenderly Jesus is calling, calling for you and for me.” Sometimes we get pulled along in directions we did not expect to go. Jonah didn’t want to go to Ninevah; but he received a call after spending three days in the belly of a whale. Now that’s a dramatic call—a “whale of a call.” Most of us don’t get that kind of dramatic call, but we might hear the call “softly and tenderly.”

After college and divinity school, I began my ministry in the church in 1969 at Pullen Memorial Church in Raleigh. Now 43 years later I will conclude my parish ministry on March 4, 2012. But you know that I’m not one to sit still for very long. The call that I’ve been sensing for some time now is to devote more time and energy to helping alleviate the escalating poverty in our city. We now have 27% of Durham children living in poverty, and 18 percent of adult in poverty. This is shameful and unacceptable, and I hope to help mobilize congregations to be more involved in assisting our low income residents move from poverty to self-sufficiency. Like my earlier call to ministry, this has been a slow, evolving process—a gradual nudging, nagging, and prompting.

I believe God is still in the business of calling people. Jesus is still saying to us, “Follow me.” But sometimes we may think that Jesus is asking us to leave everything to follow. It seems to me that the story of the call of the first disciples is inviting each of us to be attentive to the particular ways God is leading/prompting/nudging each of us. 

Sometimes the “follow me” words may call us not to leave home, but to stay home for a particular mission—caring for aging parents or small children, taking on a mission at work or in the local community—or here at church.

Speaking of calls, we may feel a call to teach children in our church school. We may hear “follow me” as a call to be a Church Council member—to help make decisions to guide this church into the future. We may feel a call to be a deacon, to spend time enjoying, learning from, and building relationships with the remarkable people who are members of this church. We may feel a call to work with our worship services or provide hospitality, sing in our Choir, or work in one of our twelve mission groups.

In the weeks ahead of us, we may receive a phone call from our Gifts and Call Committee. When that call comes, from Emily McCoy or other members of the Committee, we may feel as surprised as Peter and Andrew, or James and John. We may feel, as they must have felt, that we don’t have the right credentials, experience or ability to do what Jesus needs. But remember that they opened themselves to the call. They were willing to be led, to be carried by the current of God’s energy. And they grew into the job.

 “Follow me,” Jesus said. Those four guys didn’t exactly know what that would mean for their future. But immediately they knew inside that God was at work. 

What about you and me? What is the mission to which you feel called?

WHY NOT BECOME FIRE? Mark 1:4-11

A sermon by Mel Williams

Watts Street Baptist Church

January 8, 2012

Today is Epiphany Sunday. The symbol is light, and light has a major role in our spiritual journeys. We’re always looking for light, more light, for the path ahead.

You heard in the Scripture this morning that it was a fiery starlight that propelled the Wise Men to make the long journey to the stable in Bethlehem. We saw this story beautifully re-enacted in last night’s musical “Amahl and the Night Visitors.” In the Christmas story the shepherds also got a fire lit under them, and they too were compelled into action. “They went with haste and found Mary and Joseph, and the babe lying in a manger.” 

The symbol for Epiphany is Light, and that Light is a form of fire. We see this fire-light every Sunday as it is carried into this sanctuary. We might call it the Christ-light, the light that starts with Jesus. But this light started before Jesus, with the Holy One of Israel and the Hebrew prophets, and then with fiery John the Baptist who shouts to the people, “The one who come after me is mightier than I. I am not the light; I am a mere witness to the light. I point the way to the light.” What do we do once we “see the light”?

There is a story about a man long ago who perfected the art of making fire. He took his tools and went to a tribe in the far north, where it was very cold, bitterly cold. He taught the people there to make and use fire. The people were captivated. He showed them the uses to which they could put fire. They could cook, they could keep themselves warm, they could see in the dark. The people were grateful. But before they could express their gratitude to the man, he disappeared. He wasn’t concerned with getting their recognition; he was concerned about their well-being.

He then went to another tribe, where once again he showed them the art of making and using fire. People were captivated there as well. In fact, there was such interest that the popularity of the man was a threat to the local priests. That threat increased, so much so that the priests decided to do away with him. They poisoned him, or was it they crucified him? Anyway, they killed him. 

But the priests were afraid that the people would turn against them. So they did a very clever thing. They had a portrait of the man painted, and they mounted the portrait on the main altar of the temple. And the instruments for making fire were placed in front of the portrait. The people were taught to revere the portrait and the instruments of fire. They did so dutifully for centuries. The veneration went on—but there was NO fire. (from Anthony deMello, Awareness)

How can we understand this story, alongside the John the Baptist-and-Jesus story? And—what do we do with the fire, the light?

Fire both attracts us and scares us. We like the warmth, the glow; but someone will say, “Don’t get too close to that fire?” Fire is a metaphor for spiritual experience. Any authentic God experience can “burn” us. It affects us deeply—if we allow it. But too often we shun the fire; we ignore the light. Let somebody else follow that star? Let somebody else stand next to that blazing fire. Not me.

But we also speak of a person being “on fire.” When the basketball player just hit 5 three-pointers, we say, “Number 15 is on fire.” When someone is deeply passionate about their music or art or mission, we might say, “They’re on fire.” We’d like to think that this church, at our best, is “on fire.”

I’ve long liked the quote, “A church exists by mission as a fire exists by burning.”

If we in this church are on a genuine spiritual search, we might ask the question the Desert Father asked: “Why not be on fire? Why not become fire?” That question is the title of a book by Sr. Evelyn Mattern, our friend of blessed memory, who wrote about women mystics, “Why Not Become Fire?”

As I ponder my final months with you before retirement, one of my persistent wonderments is about worship. How does this service affect you and me? What happens to us in the process of worship? Are we passive observers, lulled into complacency? Or do we open ourselves to hear a significant word from God, a prompting? At times, in worship, we may experience an emotional moment, a yearning, a longing, a nudge, a call that we don’t quite know how to express. And we wonder: What does this moment mean?

When we have an experience that is a defining moment, when we “see the light,” that moment changes us; it gives us identity. It’s clear from the text for today that when he was baptized, Jesus was given his identity. He heard the words, as if they blaring from a loud speaker: “You are my Beloved. With you I am well pleased.”

Who tells you who you are? Your peers, your business associates, your friends, your family? When our young people are baptized here, I tell them that their decision to be baptized is the most important decision of their life. It informs all other decisions. How? Baptism gives you identity; it tells you who you are. You are child of God, loved by God, disciple of Jesus. This is your identity; it’s given at baptism. The same thing happened to Jesus. At his baptism, he came out of the water and heard that voice, “You are my beloved.” God says to each of us, “You are my beloved.” Who tells you who you are? God tells you.

When we brush against the fire of God, we also find that the experience compels us to act. In the Christmas story, did you notice that most people remained unaffected—passive, unmoved. “George, I heard that Mary just had a baby.” “Happens all the time, Gladys. What’s so great about a baby being born? I’m going back to sleep.” 

The birth of Jesus may have gone unnoticed by a lot of people; but two groups sprang into action. The shepherds heard the announcement from the angel Gabriel, and they took off to see the baby.

The second group that avoided neglect and apathy—the Wise Men. They followed the star and brought gifts to the Babe—gold, frankincense, and myrrh. 

There is a ministry in Durham, caring for the poor, offering food, clothing, and job training. A deeply committed woman leads this ministry, Carolyn Hunter. She handed me a card one day: “On Fire for God Ministry.”

The Wise Men must have been on fire for God—passionate in their search for God’s Child. When they journeyed to Bethlehem, they were inspired by a light—a fire in the sky. That fire prompted them to get moving. They got “on fire” for this new thing that God was doing.

What about us? Our faith invites us to ponder one big question: Why not become fire?

Every Sunday one of us carries the light down the aisle and out the door. We carry that light, with the hope, the prayer, the call that, by God’s grace, we may become the light. We may become the fire. Why not?