Eternal Happiness 2

This is the text of the message I prepared for Serviceton Shared Ministry for Sunday 9th February 2020.  It is modified from the message I prepared for Kaniva in that Serviceton was having its Sunday School picnic, an outside event with lots of children present.  This message was in no way dumbed-down, but it has been childed-up.

Psalm 112:1-9; 1 Corinthians 2:1:-12; Matthew 5:13-20

A lot of the Bible is made up of what people who speak Hebrew call “Midrashim” (eww, that sounds like a red and sore tummy!) and in English we call commentary or interpretation. Usually this is a bit like a sermon where a teacher (rabbi) takes a Bible reading and then explains what it means and gives an example about its usefulness for his or her disciples. So maybe Psalm 112 which we looked at today is a midrash of Psalm 111:10 where it says [t]he fear of the LORD is the beginning of wisdom; all those who practice them have a good understanding, because we read in Psalm 112:1, [h]appy is [the one] who fears the LORD, the one who delights in his commandments. We can ask what is so happy about these people and what blessings come on them, and then we hear the answer that their children will be winners, happy and shiny for starters. In other words the children of God’s people have good reputations. But even in their own lives the people who respect God will have God’s grace and compassion, because even in darkness light dawns says Psalm 112:4. Things are good if you behave like God behaves and you stick with God even in the hard times. People who do this will be generous and other people will think and say good things about them.

Well that sounds good, but what exactly are these nice people doing? How is their religion helping them to be good people? I don’t think it’s actually about trying to obey the Ten Commandments like rules, but about realising that they are good advice: so it’s not about trying very hard to obey God because you’ll get a smack if you don’t, but about being grown up about it and thinking that these rules are actually good anyway. If you are polite and friendly then people will treat you well and you’ll have lots of friends; if you’re a bully or a sneaky person then people won’t like you and you’ll be left out, whether you are religious or not. Try to act like Jesus, behave kindly, and you will be popular with the people who like kindness, and hopefully people will think nice things about you. That doesn’t mean that you can just be nice and ignore God’s word, but it means if you focus on being nice and acting like Jesus acted then you’ll be following God anyway. So it’s not about trying not to be naughty, because you should try, but it’s more about always trying to be good, because if you focus on being good all the time then you won’t be naughty anyway.

In the next few weeks we’re going to be reading about Paul and how he tried to gently teach the Christians in Corinth to act more like Jesus, less like snobby religious people or puffed up smarty-pantses. If you look at 1 Corinthians 2:1-3 you can see that Paul says, “you all know that I am actually quite clever, but I tried not to act like a smarty-pants when I visited you. My whole message was about Christ who lives the same way God lives, even though Jesus was a real man, and so the best way for Christians to live is to try to live like Jesus, and that’s it.” I really hope you’ve heard me say that too. I know I’ve told you that I went to four university degrees, but I told you that not because I’m a snob about being clever but because when I lived my life I spent a lot of time at school, so that’s part of my story and who I am. But my sermons aren’t supposed to be about how clever Damien is, no what I want you to learn is that Jesus is nice, God is like Jesus, and God wants us to act like Jesus in the world. Be nice: that’s the midrash for you about the whole Bible. It’s true that the Bible says other things, my midrash doesn’t include the message about salvation, but I have just told you everything you need to know about being a disciple. Act like Jesus, because when you look at Jesus you is actually see what God is like.

So, let’s see what Paul actually says here. We jump in at 1 Corinthians 2:6 where Paul begins to use the wisdom he has to speak to clever people on their level. The message of the gospel is very simple, God loves you and you should love each other. It sounds easy, but those words are wiser than anything Professor Wisey McWiseface ever wrote or said. “Clever as they are,” says Paul in 1 Corinthians 2:8, “they don’t get it.” Jesus, who was God as a person, taught that people who want to be most like God should be loving and generous, and the world’s leaders killed him because he said it. There is a word for that sort of behaviour and “wise” is its opposite, says Paul.

When we look at 1 Corinthians 2:9-10 we can see that God has such brilliance in store for the people who are like Jesus that it makes the Wisey McWisefaces upset. But Paul keeps going and he says in 1 Corinthians 2:11 that they are the foolish ones, because God says in 1 Corinthians 2:11b-12 “let me tell you who you really are and what you are really like.”

In the words of Jesus which are in Matthew 5:1-12 Jesus describes eight groups of people that he calls “blessed”. In one church, I used to belong to our pastor used to define “blessed” as “happy and to be envied”; I think that fits very well. People who follow Jesus and act like him are happy, and they are to be envied. We can read in Matthew 5:13-16 where Jesus said his disciples are like salt and light on the earth, in a looking and tasting example of God. Our job as disciples, like it was for Jesus personal friends 2000 years ago, is to live a life that reminds people what God is really like. When we think about the people Jesus was talking about we can see that God responded to them by recognising how they were:

Matthew 5:3 declaring their need for spiritual insight;

Matthew 5:4 declaring their need for spiritual comfort;

Matthew 5:5 declaring their need for spiritual strength;

Matthew 5:6 declaring their desire to see the way of God become universal in the world;

Matthew 5:7-11 declaring their love for God and the ways of God even when they are actively and viciously opposed.

Jesus promised that Heaven would come to you (and you would go to Heaven) because if you are being treated like the prophets of old then you’re probably showing people God’s life like they did, and also making the world think about its lack of goodness. Keep bringing up God-colour and God-flavour wherever your life is: talk about how the Ten Commandments are promises that God ill lift you up and keep you safe. We can say that Jesus is teaching a midrash about religion here: “everything is valid” he says, “as long as you think about it in the right way.” And what is the right way? Well behave like God does, with kindness and love. In Genesis 1 it says that all people were created in the image and likeness of God, so just go back to being normal like God made you with your behaviour and your attitude. Be generous, be wise about God, act with righteousness because if you’re being attacked it’s only because your example is making the wicked upset about their own wickedness. The way the world does things is not normal says the Bible: it’s not normal to the stingy, conceited, or self-interested, it’s normal to be like Jesus. So, be yourself, the person God made you to be.

Amen.

Just Visiting

This is the text of my ministry message for the KSSM monthly pewsheet for February 2020.  It was my first Sunday with them since Christmas Day 2019 (which was actually a Wednesday).

While I was away over January, having some annual leave and spending time with my South Australian family, I did a lot of visiting.

I played Junior Monopoly with my six year old nephew, and managed to get myself in gaol a few times. Miss a turn and pay the bank $1 and you get to be Just Visiting. (He won by the way, little capitalist.)

I went for a drive through old haunts along the South-West Fleurieu coast and inland, including the apartment block I used to live in. I stood outside my old door, but didn‘t go in, I was just visiting. I had a coffee at the tourist complex there, overlooking the golf course and sitting where I used to sit and study. This time there was no study, no frantic counting of nickel in my pocket to see if I had enough for a mug or only a cup, (I‘m a proper pastor now, I have brass in my pocket). No longer resident, just visiting.

I went to church (I‘m still a Christian, even on holidays), at four different churches. No preaching, no pastoral care, just visiting, yet how insightful that was. One church was my old church, Delamere Uniting, and I was welcomed with open arms (literally, I got four hugs). I was just visiting but I was welcomed home. One church was One Church, the UC/CC in Keith: again just visiting but the news of my being the pastor from KSSM made me a minor celebrity over coffee. One church was a local fellowship who describe themselves as relaxed and friendly; however I didn‘t find that to be the case, (but then I was just visiting and maybe that was the point). Maybe I needed to belong longer for them to find out who I am and how I prefer to relax and be befriended.

My prayer for KSSM this year is that we care for all who enter our doors, including (but not especially) those who are just visiting. All are welcome here; all are welcome back, all are welcome through, all are welcome home. Aren‘t they?

What shall I render unto the Lord for all His benefits toward me?

This is the text of the message I prepared for KSSM for Sunday 2nd February 2020.  It’s not a lectionary reading.

Psalm 116

Recently I had the privilege of not only attending, but actively participating in the ordination of a dear friend. For reasons beyond her control this ordination took place on Australia Day; but that set up a happy coincidence, for me at least. The happy coincidence is that one of the readings which my good friend had chosen to be read on her special day was the entirety of Psalm 116, a special set of verses for her. As her friend I know that a good deal of her testimony is replayed in those words of scripture. Okay, great; so January 26 and Psalm 116 are coincidental: how exactly? Any takers? Well actually the coincidence comes tomorrow, because on Sunday 3rd February 1788 Rev Richard Johnson, inaugural chaplain of the penal settlement at New South Wales preached the first Christian sermon in Sydney and Psalm 116:12-13 was his text. As it reads in the Authorised version which he used, What shall I render unto the Lord for all his benefits towards me? I will take the cup of salvation, and call upon the name of the Lord. Johnson’s appointment was largely the work of John Newton and William Wilberforce, have you heard of them? Yes, well as you’d expect they were keen that an evangelical would take on the chaplaincy of New South Wales and so Johnson was appointed as minister and educator, and with his wife Mary he sailed with the First Fleet.

The news which comes later, after the landing at Port Jackson and that first service of worship under a tree at Sydney Cove, is that Johnson was not well attended to by the governors. Governor Phillip had more important things to focus upon than the building of a chapel, what with trying to house a starving population, so church took place out in the open. Later governors and lieutenant-governors were even less helpful, so in 1793 Johnson built a 500 seat chapel himself; at his own expense and with his own hands. With that building in place Richard and Mary were better able to run a school and as many as 200 children were in class. That building was destroyed by fire in 1798, probably arson, and in 1800 the Johnson family (now four of them with two Australia-born children) returned to England on a furlough, from which they did not return.

So you may or may not have heard the story of Richard Johnson before, and of course there is a lot more to tell. Much of their woe occurred during life in the colony and therefore after that first sermon was spoken out. But I’m sure that as Australians, even not as Sydney-siders, you have some understanding of The First Fleet and what went on to get those eleven ships into Botany Bay and then Port Jackson. It was not a fun time by any means; and there were no doubts aboard ship among anyone, marines and freemen included, that life in Sydney would be easy. As far as journeys go the First Fleet wasn’t the worst, the Second and Third Fleets were disease ridden and most unpleasant, but it was bad enough. So I wonder what Johnson was thinking, and more importantly what he was seeing (envisioning) as he prepared and then delivered that first sermon to the prison colony. Just think about it, imagine yourself if you’d like as a convict or a marine, or the surgeon, or the governor himself, or the tag-along wife of someone, imagine you’re Mary Johnson, and Richard gets up and says what shall I render unto the Lord for all his benefits towards me? I’m not entirely certain, and in this instance my background in sociolinguistics lets me down, but I’d say that was the first instance that the derogatory use of the word “mate” was used in Straya. I mean, you’ve been at sea since May 1787 and it’s now February 1788, not to mention (but I probably will) whatever prison-hulk or barracks-and-orders rigmarole went on before sailing. You’re standing under a gum tree in February, and you’re wearing rags (as a convict) or prissy England clothes (as a free person or marine), so you’re probably sweating like mad. You’ve been sleeping in a tent, or on the ground, or maybe you’re still going back to the ships to sleep. You’re here forever, or at least seven years, or at least until you’re re-called for re-deployment by the Admiralty, and even that is at least a year and a half away by the fastest ships. The last year has sucked, this year looks desolate and hungry, and next year might see us starving if we even make it that far. So, ah Rev, Richard-mate, what are these benefits unto me which the Lord has rendered? Maaate? Psh!

How’s your year looking Kaniva/Serviceton? How was 2019? What does 2020 have in store for you? Are you hopeful of even reaching 2021? Hopefully you’re feeling better than that mob who were standing on Eora Country 232 years ago, but just because a town exists here and you slept in sheets last night that doesn’t mean your future is rosy. My friend’s story, the friend who was ordained last Sunday, her story is hers to tell so I won’t even touch it: but it’s a doozy. You all know some of my story and many of the doozy bits (but not all of them) and I tell that in drabs. What’s your story, and how does this Psalm speak to you?

I’m going to ask that again, what’s your story, and how does this Psalm speak to you? In my research this week I discovered something which I think is every interesting, in Tanakh (the actual Jewish Bible rendered into English and used by some Jewish traditions, rather than one of the Old Testament translations of the Christian traditions) there’s a variant reading in Psalm 116:1-2. In the New International Version it reads I love the LORD, for he heard my voice; he heard my cry for mercy. Because he turned his ear to me I will call on him as long as I live. Positive, praiseworthy, comfortable and comforting. In the Good News Bible (which is in your pew) it reads I love the LORD because he hears me, he listens to my prayers. He listens to me every time I call to him. More of a shift to continuing present tense, not only did The LORD hear my voice but God hears my voice: all good so far. In the Tanakh it reads I love the LORD for He hears my voice, my pleas; for He turns His ear to me whenever I call. Pretty similar to the Good News Bible, but without that “because” statement from the NIV. But, here’s the variant, Tanakh footnotes suggest this one I would love that the LORD hear my voice, my pleas; that He turn His ear to me whenever I call. Hmm. Anyone been there? “I’d love it if God would listen and could hear me right now”. Anyone there now: don’t put your hand up but do let me know later if I can pray with you. Maybe some of Sydney’s first congregation were thinking that, maybe Rev Richard was thinking that himself, just quietly. Or maybe you’re with the Orthodox Church where the translation reads I have loved, because the Lord shall hear the voice of my supplication; for He inclined His ear to me. And in my days I shall call upon Him. (Athanasius Academy Septuagint found in The Orthodox Study Bible). I have loved because… that’s something different again, and suggests that we love God because God loves us (true) and that by God’s love for us we become mature through carrying that love even in the dark places, and finding strength in it. That points us toward Psalm 116:12-13 which we looked at earlier, with the understanding that even with the depths of Sheol, and the depths of the Atlantic, Indian, and Pacific oceans The LORD has been good thus far and we can be confident. We can be confident because we have trusted The LORD and The LORD has come through for us; therefore whatever lay ahead of New South Wales in 1788, and whatever lies ahead of the Wimmera and Tatiara in 2020, we can celebrate God and be thankful in advance. Interesting to me is that according to its lectionary the Orthodox Church reads this psalm on Palm Sunday, and we read it on Maundy Thursday.

Are you confident for what lies ahead? Maybe today you are in Sheol, or at least in fear of being there soon: feeling grave and overcome with tomb-like concerns. Maybe today you are in Cadi (Sydney Cove), and wondering how this place could ever be what London is, even Newgate Prison. Or maybe you are in the good place, with the harvest harvested and sent away to wherever the trucks and trains take the various outcomes of your work, and you are in the mood for exuberant praise and thanksgiving for the abundance of grace that The LORD has just poured over your head. Most likely you’re somewhere in between those poles, since most of the time we just live with contentment, without fear but also without celebration. The Psalmist says that a worthy response to all of those conditions is thanksgiving and praise. I would say the same, not only as a theologian who has just written a sermon on this but also as a man with a doozy of a story about Sheol and another about the Heavenlies.

And so, what shall I render unto the Lord for all His benefits towards me? How can I repay The LORD for all His bounties to me? Well, as scripture exhorts us let us raise the cup of deliverance and invoke the name of The LORD. Tell people what has been done for you, show it to their own eyes, and tell them that it was The LORD Godself who did it for you. If you are in the mood to celebrate then celebrate: rejoice like the shepherd who recovered one of one hundred sheep, host a party like the widow who recovered one of ten coins, feast and drink like the father who received back one of two sons. And if you are not in the mood to celebrate then remember what The LORD has already brought you through, and trust that The LORD who is the same Lord will do it again and again. In all of those stories told by Jesus, and all of the doozy stories we tell of ourselves, the focus is on a corporate response to an individual crisis. I was in peril, now I will tell the whole congregation how amazing The LORD is to me. This is actually the point of the Psalm, not that the snares of death encompassed me, the pangs of Sheol laid hold on to me, (Psalm 116:3) woe is me I have a truly salty story; not even that gracious is The LORD and righteous, (Psalm 116:5); but I will pay my vows to The LORD in the presence of all his people (Psalm 116:14), and I will pay my vows to The LORD in the presence of all his people, in the courts of the house of The LORD, in your midst O Jerusalem (Psalm 116:18-19).

And so it is. Maybe Richard Jonson did feel like a bit of a dill preaching on The LORD’s providence under that tree at Sydney, barely a week after the tall ships had arrived: perhaps he spoke too soon when you consider all that he went through in the next twelve years, and all that Sydney has seen in the past 232. Or maybe he was on the right track, considering that all who gathered on that day had survived the journey to gather on that day, considering that as an evangelical he knew where and how to look for the goodness of The LORD and to find much for which to be thankful in song and word. May it ever be so with us. We no longer cry God save the King, okay mainly because we actually have a queen, but let us remember that God’s saviour is King, and that we have the responsibility to glorify his saving work and his reign in song and word, confident in him in all circumstances.

Amen.

Born is the King

This is the text of my message for Christmas Day 2019.  KSSM (Kaniva Uniting Church) hosted the eccumenical Christmas Day service in Kaniva.

Luke 2:1-14; Titus 3:4-7

Jesus is a truly puzzling figure in history, there really is nothing straightforward about him. The stories we tell about Jesus can be pretty simple, how he was born in a manger and died on a cross, how he fed 5000 men plus their wives and kids from a single lunch-pack, how he taught the rich to look after the poor and how he taught the poor to trust God. Not everyone is convinced that the stories are true, but the way the stories are told is pretty straightforward, it’s plain storytelling. But the puzzle comes in how believable the stories are, and what their deeper meaning is. I mean, how can a baby born in a food-trough be God? How can any baby born anywhere be God? Simple tales told simply, but baffling meanings.

The story of Jesus’ birth is pretty well know, even if you aren’t religious. In fact you can be religious in another religion, but if you live in Australia you’ve probably heard about the manger and the three kings and the shepherds and the little drummer boy and the angels from the realms of glory. The story as it is actually told by the Bible is a little bit different, mainly because there are three versions of Christmas in the Bible but Australia like the rest of the world tells only one, which is a sort of mish-mash of the three to form a complete story. In our story this morning, which is only the one from Luke 2, we are told that Joseph and Mary, who we met in Luke 1, have to travel from Nazareth where they live to Bethlehem which is Joseph’s family’s home town. It’s possible that Joseph has never been to Bethlehem and that his grandfather’s grandfather emigrated to Galilee a hundred years ago; it’s also possible he grew up there and moved to Nazareth to find work, either way it doesn’t matter because he has to go there now. So, Joseph and his pregnant wife walk down to Bethlehem over the course of a few days, (the Bible says nothing about a donkey), and Luke 2:6 tells us that while they were there the time came, and Mary was delivered of her firstborn, a son. It’s highly unlikely from this wording that our common idea of Christmas is correct: Joseph and Mary certainly did not arrive in Bethlehem just in time for the birth, but too late for a motel room, and that Mary was left to deliver her baby alone and in the car-park barely hours after arriving. More likely is that the couple arrived in plenty of time and were camping outside the village, probably with Joseph’s cousins and brothers and so forth who would also have had to go back to Bethlehem. When Mary began to feel the pangs of labour Joseph might have gone in to town to find a guesthouse for the night, just to be a bit more comfortable, and unable to offer them some space in the crowded upstairs part where the people slept the landlord offered Joseph a quiet corner in the downstairs room where the animals were kept. It strikes us as a bit primitive, but we’re talking 4BC here so it’s probably nothing really out of the ordinary for Joseph and his family.

So, Jesus’ actual birth was pretty normal in and of itself. The fact that his mother was a virgin and his conception was by The Holy Spirit is unique, but the boy in the manger isn’t terribly remarkable. Having said that, the remarkable kicks in a few hours later.

Back outside the village, most likely in a camp not dissimilar to that shared by Joseph’s extended family, is a mob of shepherds. So these guys are locals, and they’re doing their job. In Luke 2:8 we read that they are lying in the fields, as you do when you’re a shepherd and there’s no barn, but then as Luke 2:9 tells us the glory of The LORD shone around them, and they were terrified. The baby in the manger is the one they’re looking for, and when they find him they will know that good news has come. That’s all well and good, but the question I want to ask this morning is “why shepherds?” Well, why anyone really? I mean, why can’t the paparazzi just let Jesus grow up anonymously and then announce himself as an adult, when he’s ready? After all, that’s pretty much what happens in Mark and John where their stories begin with John the Baptist saying “hey, look over there”.

I think it is significant that we hear about Jesus’ birth, and that Heaven drew attention to it at the time with angels and stars and visiting Magi and shepherds. There’s a message in the baby, and that message is that when God chose to enter the world’s reality as a baby God was saying that there is no rush. Sometimes we’d love it if God would just zap! or kapow! stuff into being, especially if that means the destruction of evil or the triumph of good, but God does not work that way. Christmas shows us that God is careful and slow; not ponderous and creaky slow, but not slap-dash and hasty: God’s way is the way of growth and as those of you who are farmers know growth takes time, conditions, and care if it is to occur in the best way. In Luke 2:13-14 we read about the angels singing and so we have no doubt that this event, the one with the baby in the manger, is a God-directed event and that this child really is something special, someone special, indeed the most special someone there ever will be. And this someone is a baby, only hours old, so there will be years involved in the revealing of this plan, the unwrapping of God’s story which has begun its telling but has a long way to go until its conclusion.

The story which Christians tell about Jesus does not begin at Christmas and end at Easter. It doesn’t even begin at Annunciation and end at Ascension for those of you who know those events in our calendar. The story of Jesus begins before Creation and Genesis 1, and it’s still being told today: it hasn’t finished yet because Jesus is still going. And that story is not just the biography of a carpenter who grew up in the north of Israel but who was born and died in the south: the story of Christmas and the story of Christianity is the story of the angels in Luke 2:14, God is glorified in the exchanges of peace amongst and between humankind.

In Titus 3:4-7 we read Paul’s take on Jesus’ birth. This is not actually a Christmas story, but it does say that Jesus the man, who once was that baby, came as a representation of God’s goodness and mercy. Jesus was not a representative of God, Jesus was God in all that God is; however Paul especially draws attention to the characteristics of Jesus to tell us what God is like. God is good, loving, kind and merciful, and not that Paul says it but its obvious from these other characteristics, God is patient.

This Christmas morning as we rush home to presents, food, family, and the fun of the day (and don’t worry, I’m nearly finished preaching), it’s good to be reminded that God is patient and never rushed. God takes the time to love us, to protect us as we grow, and to be patient as we stumble along towards maturity. Jesus was active in ministry for between one and three years, depending how you read the Bible’s seasons, and these were the last years of his life. Jesus didn’t start preaching and healing until her turned 30, so he was 31 or 33 when he died, and then he was back to Heaven seven weeks later. God didn’t rush Jesus into action; God let Jesus grow up and learn a trade and get some life skills, and then Jesus did what he had to do as a teacher and a healer, an example to the world, and then he died as a sign of God’s love and then he rose again as a sign of God’s authority. Then Jesus went home. No rush, just a well placed, well-paced life.

Let’s remember Jesus the saviour, and God the patient one, this Christmas. Let’s take the time away from the tinsel, even if only a few minutes, and slow down and be present and notice where God has grown us up to and where God is pointing us toward. There’s no rush, there’s only breath and inertia, but let’s not miss the quiet and gentle movement forward by frantically sitting with the flashy and the noisy.

Celebrate with joy, the Lord is come: do you have space to receive him?

Amen.

The Advent of Loss: 2 (Blue Christmas)

This is the text of the message I prepared for the community Blue Christmas service in Kaniva for 2019.  The service was hosted by the Uniting Church on behalf of all of the town churches.

John 1:1-14

Imagine a Christmas without all the pageantry. In a field of loss that might be nice, and December 25th itself might pass in quietness, another Wednesday in the world, with nothing to set it apart. Imagine if Christmas Day was just another birthday, someone else’s birthday, and joy to them and all of that, but good that I wasn’t invited, or even aware, because I’m not in the mood for celebration. In fact, even if it was my birthday, and it isn’t, but even if it was I’m just not into it.

Do any of you know what date of the year my birthday is? It’s okay, I don’t know when yours are either. It’s probably no surprise to you that your birthday this year was just another day for me, unremarkable, I don’t even remember what I was doing: unless it was a Sunday of course, in which case I was probably preaching, but then I preach most Sundays anyway so I’m sorry if I didn’t notice your special day. Or was it a Saturday in winter and I was at the footy, same answer, sorry I didn’t notice.

There are days like that for all of us. Not just birthdays, but other significant days and the anniversaries of significant days. There are people in this room, at the very least in this town, who lost friends and family to death this year: but what was I doing on the day that that happened? Can’t say. Others observed days of anniversary: a year, two, ten, perhaps fifty since a loved one died, again days unremarked by me or the rest of you, for the most part. And generally that’s okay, we often don’t need the whole world party to our personal grief, especially when healing has begun and the years have made the memories more fond for what was had and less sharp for what was lost.

But then, then there’s Christmas. I know two people for whom Christmas Day is the anniversary of a father’s passing. But even without that, Christmas Day is a loud and bright day, especially in Australia where it’s all-but midsummer, so the parties are outside with cricket in the street and barbeques in the back yard and it’s hard to hide from celebration even if you want to. That’s not to say that there aren’t lonely people, grieving people, distressed people even on the Day when we celebrate Santa’s coming to earth in human form, it’s just that those sad-sacks get their noses rubbed in by their boisterous neighbours and their cordial-powered, remote-control wielding children.

In John’s gospel and the opening chapter, which is really a prologue to the story than the opening of the story itself, we have Christmas without the paraphernalia. No wise men, no shepherds, no angels; no star, no animals, no manger; no baby. What we have is light and a word; a word which is a who (and not a what), a word who is glorious and alive, a word who is light whom banishes the darkness. I wonder what a Christmas pageant would look like if we based it on John’s account rather than Matthew’s or Luke’s. Would it actually be less boisterous if there was no bunch of kids dressed as a flock of lambs, and one solitary boy was dressed as everlasting light instead? I never got to be Joseph when I was a child, although I did play him in a monologue when I was about 42. I wonder how I would have felt had I been chosen to play the real light – the light that comes into the world and shines on all mankind as John 1:9 puts it.

The Good News Translation overlooks the phrase, but in the New American Bible (amongst others) we read in John 1:12 that to those who did accept him he gave the power to become children of God, to those who believe in his name. Now is not the time for a full theology of the Name of Jesus, but briefly, at Blue Christmas, let me say this. The name of the Word who came as light, is Jesus, and that name means “God Saves”. It’s the same Hebrew name as Joshua (Yehu’shua), the one who fit de battle of Jericho and the walls come a tumblin’ down. The phrase “in his name” also means to accept Jesus for all he is and all he stands for: the whole being of Jesus and his story. If you acknowledge and receive Jesus, the one who exists and proclaims the salvation of God, then you will become a son or daughter of God. Many did not accept Jesus when he came, during his life between 4BC and 30AD or whenever exactly it was, John 1:11 tells us that and we know it from other parts of the New Testament too. Many since then and right up to today have also not accepted him, either they have heard the story and rejected it for whatever reason, or they haven’t heard the story properly told at all for whatever reason. That’s why John 1:12 specifically says to those who did accept him, because in John 1:11 we’ve just been told that many didn’t.

And that’s where we find ourselves on Blue Christmas, and others find themselves blue at Christmas, because the story is unacceptable. Here’s a story about eternal light entering the world. Here’s a story about the Word of God, so God’s creative power (remember God created by “saying”) and God’s authority, entering the world. Here’s a story about a man who embodies all of the above and his name is literally “God Saves”, if not “God’s Salvation” as if the man is himself the saviour, and not just a living prophecy whose name is a message, he himself with the name is also the means of salvation. And yet here I am, on Thursday night 19th December 2019 (or Wednesday morning 25th December), and here I am mourning because God did very much NOT save. If God saves then why am I a widow, or an orphan, or a divorcee, or a bankrupt, or a quadriplegic, or a neurotic? Why? All this light you’re speaking about just makes my darkness even more obvious, and it’s just as painful as the noise of children on their new bikes and the sound of their dads on their fourth beer.

You say “God saves”, but I say that’s very hard to accept, let alone believe.

As a pastor I hear that, and I will not trample it. Yes I am a pastor, but only because I am a survivor in life,; and I’m a survivor in life only because I am a Christian. I’m not saying that you cannot survive life without Christianity, but I am saying that I would not have made it this far without Jesus. My story is that I have lost a lot. My grandparents have all died, so my parents (whom I dearly love) have lost their parents (whom they dearly loved). I have lost friends to death, and friends to distance. I have also lost friends to hatred, people who once were close who have turned against me and my family. I have lost health, and poor health has stolen decades of my life; in fact I’m going to say that much of my adulthood has been lost to sickness and disability. I was sexually molested as a child and I have lost most, if not all, of what it means to be in a romantic relationship. So, when you say that God’s salvation is very hard to accept, let alone believe, I believe you, and I accept your story as accurate and true.

But so is John’s story, accurate and true, and I know this because it is also my story. That I am here, after all of that, to tell my story and even more to tell John’s story from the Christian Bible, is all down to the fact that God does save, did save, will save, and that Jesus is the means by which that is accomplished. I am a Christian, a recipient of salvation, because God saved me and not because I saved myself. When I stopped trying to save myself and faced the overwhelming tide of death, because I was out of energy and motivation, that is when God has lifted me out and up and away. If you aren’t there yet well I’m not going to gloat, or accuse, or deny your pain. I will be respectful this Christmas of you in the way that I missed in Christmases past when others denied, excluded, and accused me.

Imagine a Christmas without all the pageantry: in a field of loss that might be nice, and December 25th itself might pass in quietness, another Wednesday in the world, with nothing to set it apart. You know, you are allowed to have it that way, you really are. But if you don’t want to, we’ll be here at 9:00am next Wednesday, and we’ll be telling the stories of how Jesus is God’s Salvation. And we’ll be nice about it too.

Amen.

Respec’

This is the text of the ministry message I wrote for KSSM for the monthly pewsheet in December 2019.

I‘m sure you‘ve noticed that the reputation of religious institutions in Australia, particularly professional forms of Christianity, have taken a huge dive toward disrepect in 2019. The Royal Commission into Intsitutional Responses to Child Sexual Abuse didn‘t only review Church organisations, but the fact that it did, and that it found error amongst us, is sonmething for which we must repent. I find it hard to repent of this sort of thing, especially since I am not a perpertator, and most especialy since I have first hand experience with a survivor‘s story: but the fact remains that The Church did wrong and we are The Church so we must do right. That other groups did wrong does not remove from us the burden of The Church‘s guilt; neither that wrong was also done to us does it lessen the guilt we have earned. In fact, even if we were 99% right and only 1% wrong, we would still be 100% responsible for that 1%, and so the sad truth that many in The Church continue to resist redress and regress, and fight to maintain reuptation and standing, has left many Australians with a bad taste of God.

The first centuries Church never had this issue. True they were hated and persectued, martyred to death and exile, but never because they were lacking charity. That the Christians looked after their widows and orphans, and assisted their neighbouring widows and orphans who had been rejected and overlooked the Greek and Roman world earned them the respect of their neighbours. What happened to that?

As Christmas fills the world with the news of God becoming boy, and the profound gift of Heaven being present amongst us in personal glory, may we as The Church live out God‘s desire for a world of shalom: a world that starts in humility and apology from the wrong, and grace and acceptance from the wronged.

Christ The King

This is the message I prepared for KSSM for Sunday 24th November 2019, the Sunday of Christ’s Kingship in Year C.  It was a communion service in both Kaniva and Serviceton in the Churches of Christ tradition, and I was presider

Jeremiah 23:1-6; Colossians 1:11-20; Luke 23:33-43

Well, the kingship of Christ is one of those ideas that divides many in today’s church. The use of such powerful language to describe such a humble man has caused offence for some, and the taking offence by those in contradiction to a clear and Biblical teaching has caused offence in others. It seems to me that to call Christ “King” sparks the same angst as to call God “Father”; what you think of kings depends upon your experience of monarchical government and what you think of fathers depends upon the relationship you had with your own dad. I’m happy with the idea of Jesus as King of Kings and Lord of Lords; I think him being President of Presidents or perhaps Mayor of Mayors is a bit pathetic really, Creation is not a democracy and we are not worse off for living in the Kingdom of Heaven, God’s own realm.

So there’s your introduction: Jesus is King and that’s a good thing in my view.

But what do we actually mean by this statement: Jesus is King, or perhaps Jesus is Lord? Is this just metaphorical language, suggesting that as we acknowledge Christ’s authority in the world we see him as superior to ourselves? If we want to say that Jesus is somehow better than us or above us in rank then why not just call him “teacher” (Rabbi as his mates called him), or even “boss”? Why king? Why lord?

Why not shepherd? Okay that might be a metaphor that even fewer modern people would enjoy, the logic suggesting that all Christians are sheep, but there are shepherd stories in circulation. Indeed the Roman Catholic parish in my hometown, the actual town where I was a child, is called “Christ the Good Shepherd”. Why does Jesus have to be a monarch, why can’t he be something more pasture-pastoral? In he opening verses of Jeremiah 23 The LORD who speaks through the prophet suggests that that is a useful framework for thinking about how God governs the people. In Jeremiah 23:3,4 God says that I myself will gather…and I will bring them back…and they shall not fear any longer…nor shall any be missing. That sounds like a God-thing, it certainly echoes the Good Shepherd motifs of Jesus’ teachings; and if we read on in Jeremiah we find that Jesus is apparently foretold as the king who will come, a descendent of David and one who will rule with wisdom, justice, and righteousness. Jesus will be king, and the sort of king he will be is this sort, the shepherding sort. The sort of king that Jesus will not be is the sort the Judahites and Israelites have already seen; the extortionate tyrant, the poor manager, the disinterested lush, the cashed-up bogan. That might be the style of Israel and Judah’s past, it may even be the style of Europe’s mediaeval, pre-Modern, pre-Revolutionary Past in our thinking, but it is not the way of the Kingship of God.

In today’s reading from the gospel we find ourselves at the crucifixion as Luke records it, and specifically the execution of the one the Romans called “The King of the Jews”. You’ll find those words in Luke 23:37-38. The implications of Jesus’ death are best left for another time, we’ll hear more about that at Easter, because today I want us to focus on the idea that this man is “The King of the Jews” and what it means that this king is being crucified.

You don’t need to be much of a scholar to know that lots of kings throughout all of history have ended up dead at the hands of their enemies. I’m not sure whether Jesus was the only foreign king ever crucified, but Rome would often murder the captured, defeated rulers of the lands they conquered after displaying them in triumphal parades through the city. Such kings or chieftains were usually strangled in a place called the Carcer, which is why many did not allow themselves to be “incarcerated” and would suicide or at least go down fighting on the battle field. Think of Cleopatra. But the Romans didn’t actually consider Jesus a king, did they? No, he was not King of Judea or King of Israel, he was not defeated in battle and he was not taken to Rome as part of a conqueror’s triumph: he was considered a rabble-rouser, a partisan, a rebel, and he was brutally killed in full public view to serve as an example for other trouble makers. Jesus was garbage according to the Romans, and even if Pilate thought Jesus himself harmless, Jesus was not worth upsetting the Sanhedrin over and so he was expendable. The sign above Jesus head was a taunt, a taunt of him and also a taunt of the Jewish people. And yet, and yet it is a title that Christians have invested with prophetic meaning almost since the day of crucifixion itself. Jesus really is the King of the Jews, and that is why his resurrection 36 hours later is such a victory for God’s Chosen People.

Jesus is not the sort of king who gets assassinated after a public rebellion, like Louis XVI of France or Charles I of Great Britain were. He’s never been overthrown and exiled as were Victor Emmanuel III of Italy or Alfonso XIII of Spain. After Jesus was killed Jesus returned; and Jesus was never de-throned. Look at how Jesus acts from the cross, he still has authority in his power to ask God to forgive sins (Luke 23:34) and to promise salvation to a repentant sinner (Luke 23:43); Jesus is King on the cross, not an ex-king or a deposed king, Jesus never relinquishes his kingship and it is never lost to him, even as he dies and is buried. And look at the people, in Luke 23:35 they stand watching at a distance while the Jewish leaders come close to mock Jesus’ kingship, the people are not following the leaders, which makes me wonder who has lost whose prestige at this point. Here’s a hint, you can’t call yourself a leader if you don’t have any followers.

When Paul speaks through his writing to Colossae about the Kingdom of God’s beloved Son I think this is the Son that Paul has in mind. Not just that Jesus is the Son of God, but that Jesus the Son is this crucified and raised King of the Jews. Look at Colossians 1:11-12 where Paul prays may you be made strong with all the strength that comes from his glorious power, and may you be prepared to endure everything with patience, while joyfully giving thanks to the Father. Our strength, God’s power, our preparation to endure with patience are gifts of God which Jesus lived out as an example on the cross. I’m not certain how Jesus felt in the moment, but if he knew that his work was for the salvation of the world (and he did) then he knew that it would bring delight to God, and that would have buoyed him I think. The same is true of us, who are followers of Jesus and as disciples are literally his students, and as Paul adds in Colossians 1:13 as citizens of the Kingdom of the Son. Our followship of Jesus, our community of discipleship, is founded on the nature and example of the king who endured the cross and displayed God’s power throughout all things (time, space, language) by rising again. That is the story of a king; to call Jesus “boss” or “mayor” is kinda pathetic really.

Paul goes on in his next paragraph, which our Bibles bookend as Colossians 1:15-20, in much the same way. The New Revised Standard Version subtitles this section “The Supremacy of Christ” which I think is a good take on it, even as I don’t really like subtitles. The one who is king, this saviour who saved through his own death and resurrection, the king of The Kingdom of God, is supreme. You’d better believe he’s supreme, he’s the image of God (well aren’t we all?) but he’s the prize of creation for whom all things were created, and he sits over every creature and every form of power and influence. Christ is king above every other king then, king of kings for sure. But more than above all things in rank he is amongst all things in shape, he’s between the sub-atomic spaces and he drives every bond and force of Physics and Chemistry. Christ is valency, Christ is gravity, Christ is inertia and magnetism. Christ is osmosis and reduction. Christ is the top, and in Christ is the whole made whole. Christ is source, Christ is purpose, Christ is fullness and Christ is incarnation through whom God in all God’s Godfulness acts in and on and with the created order. So, more than a president eh: so much more than a president, so much.

Jesus is pretty important then. Immense. But also close. Look at the last words of our Christian tradition reading today: through Christ God was pleased to reconcile to Godself all things in all dimensions by making shalom through the blood of Jesus’ cross. That’s Colossians 1:20. And think about it, Selah, pause and consider the blood of his cross. Did the cross bleed? Did the cross bleed? No. The blood of his cross is the blood of himself. There is no artificial miracle here of a cross bleeding true blood, there is no falsehood whereby sap was oozing and the illiterate peasants got all sweaty-faced about the magic. We all know what was going on here, Jesus, (Christ, the Supreme One, King of kings and all other things…) bled and died and through that God reconciled all things on Heaven and Earth and made peace. No king has ever done that before. Sure there have been abdications in world history, some rulers have surrendered immediately at the gates in the face of an overwhelming invasion force rather than have his (or her) city besieged and pillaged. But no king has ever died in such a way, at the hand of his own people, so as to bring about God’s completion. The greatest king died the most humble death, the least glorious death, nailed up naked and in public to a tree beside the main highway, having been thrashed to a pulp first, all on the twin crimes of treason and blasphemy, pronounced by a puppet governor and a selfish priesthood.

This is the king we have. Even if he were not king of kings and lord of lords (and he is, let’s not diminish that), but even if he wasn’t, even if there were a number of kings and Jesus-land was but one of a number of nations with constitutional monarchs in whose country we might live, wouldn’t you chose it anyway? I mean I like Elizabeth, Australia’s queen, but given a choice between the UK and the KOG I know where I’d be brexiting to…and it wouldn’t take me three years to make up my mind either.

The Kingship of Jesus seems to be to be the heart of the gospel. Even more than the lamb of God who was slain, even more than the great high priest who knows our every weakness, even more than the friend (what a friend) we have in Jesus, of most central importance to the good news of God is that God is King in the Kingdom of The Son, and that the king is the image of the invisible God. If God is king, and if God is like Jesus, and if Jesus is like this King of the Jews, then the Kingdom of God is the Kingdom of the most wonderful, most adorable, most loving and most welcoming king; a king who is all of that and strong, and authoritative, and commanding, and redeeming.

This, this is the God we adore; this, this is the God we serve.

Amen.