Pastor Mark

Sentness - Sent People

Matthew 28:16-20

Now the eleven disciples went to Galilee, to the mountain to which Jesus had directed them. When they saw him, they worshipped him; but some doubted. And Jesus came and said to them, "All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything that I have commanded you. And remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age."


So I had the idea, after we used this SENTNESS book as part of our council’s leadership retreat a few months ago, that there was enough good stuff in the book – good, faithful, thoughtful, practical ideas about being the church in the world – that maybe it would be good to share some of those good, faithful, thoughtful, practical ideas with the rest of you. So that’s what’s up with this SENTNESS plan for the next few weeks.

The book suggests there are at least six “postures” – or six ways of being and living as followers of Jesus – that get it right, if we want to carry out God’s mission in the world. Those missional postures are listed on the back of your bulletin so you can see where we’re headed. But before we get to the first theme, or missionary position, “SENT PEOPLE,” I want to set the stage a bit.

So, I want us to think for a moment about why we’re here. I don’t mean why we’re “here” in a cosmic sense – we’ll get to that, perhaps later. I mean why did you roll out of bed this morning and show up for worship in this place, at this time? And why wasn’t it another place? Or at another time? Or both?

I suspect…and I’m admittedly being quite presumptuous, I realize…but I suspect that most of us gather here looking for something we are reasonably certain we’ll find, right? We come listening for a certain type or style or quality of music and liturgy? We come at 8:30 or 10:45 or 5 p.m. because we have things to do and places to be and this is the time that works for us. We come hungry for bread and wine or grape juice if that’s what we prefer – and the good news and promise those things pour into our lives. We come looking for a sense of peace and comfort, perhaps, through the prayers we’ll pray and through the familiar friends and family we expect we’ll see here.

At the risk of being too simplistic or crass, perhaps, don’t we choose to worship here, as we do, for many of the same reasons we might have chosen to eat out at whatever restaurant we opted for last time we went to dinner – because we were in the mood for Mexican, or pizza, or whatever; because we knew we could get a table; because the price was right… the place is clean… because someone we know had been there and liked it... maybe, just because there was a special occasion or a special reason to go out and make that dinner special in some way.

So, I posed the question about what brings us each here today – or any given Sunday – because I suspect our answers will illustrate in as quick, as easy, and as personalized a way as I could think of, the premise of why and where we can begin this conversation about BEING SENT PEOPLE.

Because, as good and as holy as many of the things are that bring us here from one week to the next may be, the reality is many of us come looking for ways to be served, not so much to find ways we can serve. Not enough of us Christians are showing up to our respective houses of worship because we have something to offer, something to give, something to share – not just with our own particular congregation, but with the world around us, too.

So, again with the question, why are we here? Did any of us think that we came here – that we come here week after week – because we are looking to be used? Do we come here believing that what we could gain from or offer to all of this is completely separate from those things that make us comfortable or meet our needs – things like the time, the music, the liturgy, the sermon, the prayers? Do any of us think that we come here because we couldn’t wait to give our offering? Do any of us come here because we wanted this short and sweet little hour out of our week (not more than an hour, please) to light a match under our behinds and to send us out to give and serve the world around us?

It may not be true for all of us, all of the time, but the opening premise of this “SENTNESS” book is that the church has fallen victim to and is complicit in perpetuating the same culture of consumerism that’s making a mess of the rest of our society. The presumption is that we’ve worked so hard at meeting each other’s needs that we’ve failed to meet the needs of the world around us; that we come to “get” too much of the time, rather than to “give” as much as we’re able; that we work really hard to meet people’s expectations – here in church – rather than expecting each other to respond to the challenge of God’s grace in their life.

Some of you saw this little ditty from Shane Claiborne that I posted online last week:

This is too much of what the weekly ritual of “church” has become for too many. Church has become a place to which we go, instead of the movement of which we are a part. Too many church people think about how to get more people into the church, rather than about how to get the church out into the world. Too many church people worry about how the world might change the church, instead of working to see how the church might change the world.

So our Gospel for the day is appropriately known as “the Great Commission.” And one of my favorite professors and theologians, Mark Allan Powell, pointed out once that we often forget or leave out or are in denial about the most important part of Jesus’ Great Commission. We understand we’re to make disciples of all nations; that we’re to baptize in the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit; that we’re to teach all sorts of things about God’s love and God’s law.

But the first – and maybe the most important – part of that commission is to GO. Not “build it so that they will come.” Not “turn on a light so that they can find their way up the drive.” Not “unlock the door and wait for someone to show up.”

No. The power of our baptism is in the unsettling, challenging, uncomfortable, scary, sometimes, “GO” of it all. “Go therefore…into your neighborhood, into your offices, into your schools.” “Go…into your community, into the hospital, into jails and prisons and soup kitchens.” “Go…into a new career, into a different income-level, into another way of living, perhaps.” “Go…to that person who’s waiting to be invited; go to that person who’s waiting to be forgiven; go to that person who’s waiting to have a deeper conversation than the small talk you’ve exhausted so many times already.”

And this isn’t all rocket science and it doesn’t have to mean hopping a flight to Haiti or Honduras. There’s a story in this book about a guy who recruits the owner of the gym where he exercises to sponsor events in his gym that build wells for fresh water in Africa. The gym owner doesn’t even consider himself a Christian, but he’s doing God’s work and loving it.

There’s another story about a woman who builds relationships with the needy people in a trailer park in her community, where she helps them manage finances, find child care, and organizes rides the grocery store.

Yesterday, Anne Janelsins told me a complete stranger brought her a fresh bottle of water from the hospital vending machine, because this stranger could tell she needed something while she sat in the waiting room while they ran tests on her sick husband.

I had a conversation this week with someone who’s interested in revamping our Eucharistic Ministry program where you all can help share communion with people – in their homes or in their hospital rooms – when they can’t make it to church. So scribble something on the Grace Notes today if you’re interested in being part of that.

These are all holy, profound, simple – sometimes – examples of what it means to be SENT PEOPLE.

We are here as God’s children, in this place, at this time, by virtue of the baptism we share with Jesus Christ. And the power of that baptism doesn’t just call us here to sit and stay for an hour each week. Our baptism, and this place, I hope, are our anchors as we walk or waddle or fly our way out into the world. This place is merely the practice field. This is a filling station. What we do here is a dress rehearsal.

We are a people called AND SENT for the sake of God’s creation. We are children of God SENT to love one another; SENT to love our neighbor as ourselves; SENT to love our enemies; SENT to heal the sick, preach good news to the poor, promise and proclaim the resurrection of the body and SENT to set our hopes on a life everlasting.

And of course, all of this is possible only because of and when we believe the last part of Jesus' Great Commission: "Remember, I am with you always, until the end of the age."

Amen

Simeon, Anna, Jesus, and Aidan

Luke 2:22-41

When the time came for their purification according to the law of Moses, they brought him up to Jerusalem to present him to the Lord (as it is written in the law of the Lord, “Every firstborn male shall be designated as holy to the Lord”), and they offered a sacrifice according to what is stated in the law of the Lord, “a pair of turtledoves or two young pigeons.”

Now there was a man in Jerusalem whose name was Simeon; this man was righteous and devout, looking forward to the consolation of Israel, and the Holy Spirit rested on him. It had been revealed to him by the Holy Spirit that he would not see death before he had seen the Lord’s Messiah. Guided by the Spirit, Simeon came into the temple; and when the parents brought in the child Jesus, to do for him what was customary under the law, Simeon took him in his arms and praised God, saying,

‘Master, now you are dismissing your servant in peace,according to your word;
for my eyes have seen your salvation,
which you have prepared in the presence of all peoples, a light for revelation to the Gentiles
and for glory to your people Israel.’

And the child’s father and mother were amazed at what was being said about him. Then Simeon blessed them and said to his mother Mary, ‘This child is destined for the falling and the rising of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be opposed so that the inner thoughts of many will be revealed—and a sword will pierce your own soul too.’

There was also a prophet, Anna the daughter of Phanuel, of the tribe of Asher. She was of a great age, having lived with her husband for seven years after her marriage, then as a widow to the age of eighty-four. She never left the temple but worshiped there with fasting and prayer night and day. At that moment she came, and began to praise God and to speak about the child to all who were looking for the redemption of Jerusalem.”

When they had finished everything required by the law of the Lord, they returned to Galilee, to their own town of Nazareth. The child grew and became strong, filled with wisdom; and the favor of God was upon him.


The story I want to share with you this morning is one of those things I’ve “filed away” in my list of things I thought – when I read it – might be cool to share in a sermon some time. And today – because of Simeon and Anna – it seems like the time has come.

I heard, a few years ago, about a tribe in Africa that marks the birth of a child, not from the day of they are born, or even from the day of their conception, but from the day that the child becomes a thought in its mother’s mind. And when a woman decides that she’s going to have a child, she does a curious and amazing thing. She goes off and sits under a tree, by herself, and she listens until she can hear the song of the child that wants to be born. And after she’s heard the song of her child, she comes back to the man who will be the child’s father, and she teaches the child’s song to him. And then, while actually making love, they sing the child’s song together, as a way of inviting the child to be conceived.

And then, when the mother is pregnant, she teaches the child’s song to her midwives and to the older women in the village, so that when the baby is born, the elders and midwives, gathered around, singing the child’s song to welcome the new baby into the world, as the baby is literally coming into the world.

And then, as the child grows, other villagers are taught that child’s song. And if the child ever gets hurt – falls down, skins a knee, bumps his head, all the things a child does that require soothing and comfort – someone picks him up and sings him his song. And it works the other way, too. When the child does something good, or when the child goes through the rites of puberty, the people of the village sing the child’s song as a way of celebrating and honoring him or her.

And then, if at any time during the child’s life he/she commits a crime or does something wrong in the eyes of the tribe, he/she is called to the center of the village and the people of the community form a circle around them and they sing them their song. The point of it is that the tribe knows the correction for bad behavior isn’t punishment, it is love and a recalling of one’s identity. When you recognize your own song – they might say – you have no desire or need to do wrong, or to do anything that would harm yourself or hurt somebody else. (That’s a whole other sermon, I’m saving for yet another day.)

And this goes on throughout their life, in this tribe. In marriage, the songs of the bride and groom are sung together. And on a person’s death bed, ready to breathe their last, the family and the villagers sing – for the last time – each person’s very own song.

How great would it be to have your very own song? What a mighty gift it would be to be known for… or by… or in connection with a song for all the milestones and stepping stones and rites of passage over the course of your life. How great to be sung into and out of this world to the music of the same holy tune, created from the depths of your mother’s heart of hearts. Can you see why this story stuck with me?

Now, there’s no evidence that Simeon, in this morning’s Gospel story, or Anna, for that matter, were actually singing songs when they met up with Jesus, and Joseph and Mary, in the temple. But since they were “in the temple,” and since both were said to be “praising God,” I couldn’t help but remember this story about the custom in this African tribe.

See, Simeon and Anna, these aged, wise, devout, faith-filled, spirit-led souls had been around for awhile. They had heard of the Messiah’s coming. They had waited for the fulfillment of God’s salvation. They had hoped for and prayed about and expected God to deliver on the promise of it all. And when they saw Jesus, I kinda, sorta think they were seeing the fulfillment of the song they – and their holy tribe of Jews, if you will – had been singing for generations.

Their hopes were realized, their faith was fulfilled, their salvation had come, their fears were relieved. With all of Simeon’s talk about “seeing God’s salvation,” and “a light for revelation to the Gentiles,” and “glory to your people Israel;” and with all of Anna’s talk, to whoever would listen, about Jesus and the redemption of Israel, it seems to me they were continuing to sing the song that Mary had sung when the angel appeared to her, announcing that she was going to have a son, and  that she would name him Jesus, because he would save his people from their sins. It it sounds like the same sort of song the angels had sung to the shepherds on the hillside in the days before Christmas, about “Glory to God in the highest” and “Peace to those whom he favors.” In addition to all of that, Joseph and Mary now heard that their baby boy was “destined for the falling and the rising of many in Israel,” and so much more.

And that’s kind of the big picture of this as far as I see it, just one Sunday after Christmas.  The song of Jesus has always been and will always be, meant to remind us and the world that the light of this gift shows up to shine in the darkness and that the darkness did not, does not, cannot, will not – ever – overcome it.

Simeon and Anna, faithful ones who’d been singing the song for a lifetime, see just how mighty and powerful and full of hope and salvation this baby boy was for them and for the world – in spite of and in the face of all the death and darkness into which he was born.  And like nothing less than so many faithful prophets before them, they aren’t shy about letting everyone know what they know.

And that’s our calling, too, in these days after “the Big Day”: to keep singing the song of Jesus and to know it’s a song of light in the darkness; redemption for the sinner; hope for the despairing; love for the neglected; healing for the sick; and new life for the dead and dying.

I got a call yesterday from a friend of mine from High School. His wife, Shay, who’s about my age, has been struggling and suffering with a strange form of cancer for something like 10 years now. I knew things were bad for Shay, early last week, she died the day after Christmas, and I’m going to Atlanta on Tuesday to preside at her funeral.

One of the main reasons I agreed to do this (besides the fact that my wife wouldn’t let me NOT do this), is that in 2005, we baptized Shay’s baby boy, Aidan, right here at Cross of Grace. Like so many of my friends out there in the world, I’m fairly certain they haven’t been to too many church services, nor have they been connected with a faith community in any significant way since that baptism. I don’t say that with judgment, I just know that’s how it is for so many.

So when I go to preside at Aidan’s mother’s funeral – Aidan is 9 years old – I will do my best to sing something of the song we – together, as the body of Christ – started singing for him so many years ago, when we poured water onto his little head, baptized him in the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit, and promised him all sorts of things about forgiveness, love and life everlasting. And I will pray he hears it this time, in a way he couldn’t have heard it before, for himself and on behalf of his mother.

We haven’t welcomed the gift of this Jesus into our midst just so we can keep him to ourselves. We welcome this Jesus into our lives so that we can share his good news –all of his forgiveness, grace, mercy and hope – with a world waiting to receive him, still.  We welcome the light of this child into whatever darkness surrounds us so that we can become a light for the nations, hope for the world, and peace for God’s people in whatever way we can manage to sing his song.

Amen. Merry Christmas.