Sermons

The Power of Being Seen

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Luke 21:25-28

“There will be signs in the sun, the moon, and the stars, and on the earth distress among nations confused by the roaring of the sea and the waves. People will faint from fear and foreboding of what is coming upon the world, for the powers of the heavens will be shaken. Then they will see ‘the Son of Man coming in a cloud’ with power and great glory. Now when these things begin to take place, stand up and raise your heads, because your redemption is drawing near.”


His nickname in prison was Trunk, as in Trunk Full of Guns. It wasn’t a bad nickname to have in prison because people thought you were a little crazy, which helps when you are a scrawny teenager who's never been in a fight. As Trunk tells the story in an Esquire Magazine article ten years ago, it was July 6th, 2003. He was nervous, but determined. He and two teens even younger than him were armed like a militia; rifles, shotguns, machetes, handguns, and 2,000 rounds of ammunition. Trunk wasn’t going to a range.

They took to the streets at around 3am. After a failed carjacking attempt, Trunk told his would be accomplices to head back to his house, regroup, and rethink their plan. That’s when the police officer spotted them: three young men dressed in black trench coats and armed to the teeth. Reflecting on that moment, Trunk says, the officer: “jumped behind the door of his car and told us to drop them. It was a standoff. I saw that he was shaking. I kept thinking that he must have a family. I was like, 'I don't want to be the bad guy.' I never wanted to be the bad guy. I still thought of myself as a decent person. I was still able to put myself in his shoes. I hadn't gone past the point of no return.” Trunk still had empathy.

When the officer shouted Down, no one moved. But then slowly, Trunk gave the command to put down their weapons. He spent ten years in prison, a best case scenario for him. And oddly enough, Prison is what saved him, because according to Trunk, he had no other choice but to learn how to talk with other people. If he didn’t, he would have been crushed.

Many years later and Trunk now helps people who were just like him: ostracized, unnoticed, and unseen.

When asked if anything would have prevented him from feeling the way that he did or attempting what he did, Trunk said “I wanted attention. If someone would have come up to me and said, 'You don't have to do this, you don't have to have this strange strength, we accept you,' I would have broken down and given up.” If someone had just seen him, really seen him.

The worst sin, says George Bernad Shaw, toward another person is not to hate them, but rather to not see them, which says to them you don’t matter. We have become quite accustomed to that sin. We struggle forming relationships with the people around us. David Brooks in his book, How to Know a Person, which is the book that jump started this whole series, says “we’re living in the middle of some sort of vast emotional, relational, and spiritual crisis. It is as if people across society have lost the ability to see and understand one another, which has produced a culture that is brutalizing and isolating.”

And all sorts of data backs this up. In the last twenty years, suicide rates have increased by 33%. More than ⅓ of all teens say they regularly feel sad and a sense of hopelessness. We are spending less time with friends and more time alone, making us feel more lonely than ever before, especially young people and young mother in particular. Not to mention that the time we are spending with family and friends can feel tense due to our political climate and ever growing distrust of one another.

In Luke, Jesus speaks of a time when there will be signs in the sun, moon, and stars. There will be distress among the nations, confusion about what’s happening on the earth, and people overwhelmed with fear. When these things happen, our redemption is near, says Jesus.

When we read these texts, often the question is when, when will these things occur? When is our redemption coming? The truth is we are caught up in this in-between time. On one hand our redemption has already come with the death and resurrection of Jesus. Yet on the other hand, we are still waiting for Christ’s return, for things on earth to be as they are in heaven.

We are living in this already, but not yet time. And Advent captures the essence of that time so well. The Christ child has already come, but we prepare ourselves for when Jesus comes again. Which is why asking when is the wrong question. Instead of asking when these things happen, Luke encourages us to ask how, how shall we live in the meantime?

And one of, if not the best answer, to how we can live right now, in this season when we are so lonely, so quick to dismiss, so overcome with fear of the other, is to raise our heads, look each other in the eye, and truly see each other.

We need to learn how we can know and understand one another. We need empathy. This can all be learned.

But for us followers of Jesus, it is not just some skill set. It is also a spiritual practice, a way of being in the world, one that we have lost along the way. Our schools and universities no longer teach these skills.

And a life of social media doesn’t help, because, as Brooks notes, “social media you can have the illusion of social contact without having to perform the gestures that actually build trust, care, and affection. Stimulation replaces intimacy. There is judgement everywhere and understanding nowhere.”

But social media isn’t all to blame. For some the problem is egotism, or all about me thinking. For others it’s anxiety, worry and fear about how others see you. Nothing shuts down a conversation quicker than that fear.

And still for others, perhaps most prominent right now, is the notion that you already know who a person is because of some small piece of information you know about them. They voted this way so they must be like this. They look a certain way, so that means they act and think this way. Some of the generalizations may have some truth to them, but they are also false to some degree, not to mention hurtful.

How can we prepare to welcome Christ when we can’t engage with the Christ who is in our neighbor? How can we sing “What Child is This” when we have no interest in the child of God right next to us.

Afterall, our God is El Roi, the God who sees me. That’s the name Hagar gives God in the book of Genesis. You are seen and known by God. You are loved deeply and understood completely. And if we know how God sees us, then we will know how we ought to see not only ourselves, but others too.

Advent is about preparing ourselves so that we might see, know, and understand Jesus Christ. And the best preparation we can undergo to receive Christ is to see and know others the way God knows and sees us.

When we do so, we are giving others the grace, love, and attention that we have received and that others so desperately need; just ask Trunk.

So this month at Cross of Grace is all about learning how to get to know the beloved child of God sitting right next to you; the neighbor across the street; the family member you struggle to speak with, the stranger at the coffee shop, or the quiet kid who feels like nobody notices him.

This is holy, practical work and we will cover real, pragmatic skills throughout this series. And we will put those skills to practice along the way. On Wednesdays over dinner, we will do some exercises to strengthen our listening, learn how to ask better questions, and how we can grow in empathy.

And then every day in December, starting today, our digital Advent Calendar devotional will reveal an article, a song, a prayer, a reflection, something that will aid us in this spiritual practice of seeing others more clearly.

Because if we can see others the way God sees them, the way God sees us, maybe we won’t be so lonely, our culture won't be so brutal or isolating.

There is still hope. We aren’t past the point of no return. Our redemption is drawing near, if we just open our eyes to see.

Amen.


Decisions, Decisions, Decisions

John 18:33-37

Then Pilate entered the headquarters again, summoned Jesus, and asked him, “Are you the King of the Jews?” Jesus answered, “Do you ask this on your own, or did others tell you about me?” Pilate replied, “I am not a Jew, am I? Your own nation and the chief priests have handed you over to me. What have you done?” Jesus answered, “My kingdom is not from this world. If my kingdom were from this world, my followers would be fighting to keep me from being handed over to the Jews. But as it is, my kingdom is not from here.” Pilate asked him, “So you are a king, then?” Jesus answered, “You say that I am a king. For this I was born and for this I came into the world, to testify to the truth. Everyone who belongs to the truth listens to my voice.”


Decisions. Decisions. Decisions.

One of mine this week was to get some long overdue tires replaced on my car before the snow and ice and cold of winter arrives in force. Every day I decide whether I have the time or the discipline or both to get to the gym in the morning before work. I had a seminary professor who packed the same exact thing for lunch every single day of the week so that he had one less thing to think about and decide upon on a daily basis.

Decisions. Decisions. Decisions.

We’ve been stewing about some big ones as a country and as a congregation, lately, too. Obviously, the election was all about deciding who would be President – among other things. And at Cross of Grace, we’ve asked each other to make a decision about how we will support our Building and Outreach Fund. (I know some of you are still thinking about that. Remember, those commitments are set to begin in December. Hint. Hint. Hint.)

Decisions. Decisions. Decisions.

Part of being alive is to have decisions to make and the nature of a decision is that there’s usually some kind of pressure to get it made. And if there’s not, time is likely to make your decisions for you. I could have waited a bit longer to get my new tires, but the season’s first snow and a road trip to Columbus helped me make that call – before an accident or a blowout made it for me.

And far too often – barring some kind of emergency – the only way to be sure you’ve made the right decision is to make it and then to wait and see.

And I can’t read this morning’s Gospel without wondering about Pilate’s decision. Talk about a dilemma! In the moments leading up to Jesus’ crucifixion, Pilate had a job to do – and a decision to make – and it’s been the source of many questions and much curiosity for generations that always come to fore when this reading shows up on Christ the King Sunday.

Pontius Pilate was getting pressure from the people on one side and orders from King Herod on the other. And his time and little chat with Jesus didn’t make the decision any easier.

“Are you the king of the Jews?” Pilate asks Jesus. “Why do you want to know?” Jesus asks Pilate.

“What have you done?” Pilate wonders. “It’s nothing you’d understand,” Jesus explains, “I’m not from this world.”

“You are a king, though, right?” Pilate insists. “Whatever you say,” Jesus seems to tease him, “you’ll know the truth soon enough.” “Do what you’ve gotta do.”

Decisions. Decisions. Decisions.

Sometimes the only way to know if you’ve made the right one is to make it… and to wait… and to see what comes of it. And I get the impression that that’s what Pontius Pilate did. He chose – what the people wanted – and he handed Jesus over to be crucified. And, I wonder when hindsight kicked in for Pilate. I wonder when the moment came that he realized what he had been a part of. I wonder … when Pilate looked back on his decision to let Jesus take the fall … did he rationalize or repent or rejoice?

What’s the hardest decision you’ve had to make – or that you’ve made lately? Who to invite to the party? Or who to ask to the dance? To take the job or to quit one? To end a relationship or to begin a new one; to punish a child or to forgive a friend; to try something new or to hold onto something familiar; to confess a sin; to let go of a grudge?

What’s the hardest decision on your plate right now? …

Decisions. Decisions. Decisions.

We all have them and if we don’t right now, we will soon enough. Some that will impact our life and some that will do nothing more than change our plans for the weekend. But no matter how big or small the decision, I think we could all use a little help – which is something of what Christ the King Sunday is about for me.

It’s the last Sunday of the Church year. It’s our last chance for some holy perspective before we begin another season of Advent and waiting and getting ready for Christmas. It’s an invitation to take a last look back before we start looking forward again.

Christ the King Sunday – with this strange foray into the crucifixion of Jesus, just before we prepare for his birth, yet again – is about perspective. It’s about hindsight. It’s about clarity and purpose. And it’s about decisions. Whether it’s about new tires, exercise, elections, or financial commitments; whether it’s about what you’ll have for lunch or where you hang your hopes for the future, Christ the King and the promises of Jesus, are about deciding.

See, we often look at Pilate as the one who had the decision to make. To crucify Jesus or to set him free. To make King Herod happy … to appease the people … to save his own behind. We can look at Pontius Pilate and be angry with him or feel sorry for him or wonder what would have happened had he decided differently.

But really, Christ the King Sunday and the story of Jesus’ crucifixion aren’t just about Pilate, the governor of Judea; or King Herod the ruler for Rome; or the Jews, the chief priests, and the crowds in Jerusalem. Christ the King Sunday is about you and me. The decision Pilate had to make is as much mine as it is yours – and ours together.

Decisions. Decisions. Decisions.

It’s not about getting into heaven, as too many pretend. It’s not about making our time here easier than it might be otherwise, that would be easy, if it were possible. The decision we’re called to make today – and every day – isn’t about saving Jesus from the crucifixion, it’s too late for that. And it’s not about coming up with the right answers or earning our salvation – that’s already been decided, too, thanks be to God.

The decisions we’re called to consider on Christ the King Sunday – and every day – are about the difference Jesus makes in our life and about the difference he – and we – can make in the world.

Because today’s reminder is that Jesus was a different kind of king – one not from or of the broken world where we live. Jesus was a king who decided for love instead of judgment. He was a different kind of king who decided for peace instead of war. He was a different kind of king who decided for hope instead of despair; rags instead of riches; generosity instead of greed; humility instead of pride; thorns instead of jewels. And he was a king who opted to hang on a cross rather than to sit on a throne.

Decisions. Decisions. Decisions.

Large or small, they’re ours to make. Deadlines or not, their time will come. Right or wrong, we’ll live with the results.

No matter how many or how difficult or how varied the decisions may be that life puts before us, the cross of Christ the King blesses us with a perspective that makes them endurable, that gives them meaning, and that makes our choices different, we pray, by the influence of God’s grace.

Life with Jesus as our King means to put everything else into perspective. Christ the King reminds us that God chose grace. Christ the King reminds us that God chose forgiveness. Christ the King reminds us that God chose death and resurrection and new life and good news.

And Christ the King reminds us that God has chosen each of us – you and me – and that our decisions get to be made with a holy kind of faith and boldness and freedom because of it. In a world that too often decides otherwise, we get to choose grace. We get to choose justice. We get to choose generosity and forgiveness and hope and love and Truth – because God has chosen them all for us first – for good – and forever – in the name of Jesus Christ, our King.

Amen