In the Beginning

Genesis 1:1 - 2:4

John 1:1-5

Mark 1:4-11

            According to the gospel of John, what is “the Word”?  It’s Jesus, actually.  Not scripture.  The Word of God is Jesus.  And we are told that, in the beginning, this third person of the trinity already existed.

            “In the beginning was the Word and the Word was with God and the Word was God. The Word was with God in the beginning. Everything came into being through the Word, and without the Word nothing came into being. What came into being through the Word was life, and the life was the light for all people…The true light that gives light to everyone was coming into the world. He was in the world, and though the world was made through him, the world did not recognize him.  He came to that which was his own, but his own did not receive him. … The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. We have seen his glory, the glory of the one and only Son, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth.”

            The Word was already in the world, it was there since the beginning.  Jesus, as the Word, was there from the beginning.  And yet Jesus was born and Jesus was baptized as one of us.  What does that mean? 

            As I’ve said before, Epiphany actually has three parts, or three events.  Epiphany is the revelation or revealing of who Jesus was.  The first part of the epiphany is the visit of the Magi, their recognition of who Jesus was, through the star, through their study and wisdom and their declaration of who Jesus was by their commitment to travel, to bring him gifts, to honor him.  The second part is what we read today, the revelation of Jesus by the Spirit descending on him like a dove, with the voice that came from heaven saying: “You are my Son, whom I love; with you I am well pleased.”  The final piece of the epiphany is Jesus’ first miracle or his turning the water into wine.  The Magi represented the revelation to the Gentiles of who Jesus was.  The Baptism was God’s own naming of who Jesus was.  And his first miracle was done for his own community, for those attending the wedding, or other Jews. 

            But baptism, the piece of epiphany on which we focus today also has other meanings for us.  And the fact that Jesus was baptized shows the extent to which God, the Word, joined us in this human journey, including this, the baptism or the second revelation of God’s coming to be with us.  It was, for Jesus, as it is for us, a renewing.  It is a commitment to living in the way of Christ, in the way God calls us to be.  Mostly, it is a commitment and an acceptance of our being God’s children.  We accept God’s claiming us as God’s own and we honor and celebrate that claiming.

A seminary professor was vacationing with his wife in Gatlinburg, Tennessee . One morning, they were eating breakfast at a little restaurant, hoping to enjoy a quiet, family meal. While they were waiting for their food, they noticed a distinguished looking, white-haired man moving from table to table, visiting with the guests. The professor leaned over and whispered to his wife, “I hope he doesn't come over here.” But sure enough, the man did come over to their table. “Where are you folks from?” he asked in a friendly voice. “ Oklahoma ,” they answered.  “Great to have you here in Tennessee ,” the stranger said... “What do you do for a living?” “I teach at a seminary,” he replied. “Oh, so you teach preachers how to preach, do you? Well, I've got a really great story for you. ” And with that, the gentleman pulled up a chair and sat down at the table with the couple.  The professor groaned inside and thought, “Great.. Just what we need.... Another preacher story!”  The man started, “See that mountain over there?" he said, pointing out the restaurant window. “Not far from the base of that mountain, there was a boy born to an unwed mother. He had a hard time growing up, because every place he went, he was always asked the same question, 'Hey boy, who's your daddy?' "Whether he was at school, in the grocery store or drug store, people would ask the same question, 'Who's your daddy?' He would hide at recess and lunch time from other students. He would avoid going in to stores because that question hurt him so badly. When he was about 12 years old, a new preacher came to his church. The boy would always go in late and slip out early to avoid hearing the question, 'Who's your daddy?’  But one day, the new preacher said the benediction so fast that he got caught and had to walk out with the crowd. Just about the time he got to the back door, the new preacher, not knowing anything about him, put his hand on his shoulder and asked him, 'Son, who's your daddy?' The whole church got deathly quiet. He could feel every eye in the church was looking at him. Everyone wanted to know the answer to that question and finally, they thought they would get it because surely this kid would not lie to the preacher!  This new preacher, though, sensed the situation around him and using discernment that only the Holy Spirit could give, said the following to that scared little boy. 'Wait a minute! I know who you are! I see the family resemblance now. You are a child of God.' With that he patted the boy on his shoulder and said, 'Boy, you've got a great inheritance. Go and claim it.' The boy smiled for the first time in a long time and walked out the door a changed person. He was never the same again. Whenever anybody asked him, 'Who's your Daddy?' he'd just tell them, 'I'm a Child of God.''' 

The distinguished gentleman got up from the table and said, “Isn't that a great story?” The professor responded that it really was a great story! As the man turned to leave, he said, “You know, if that new preacher hadn't told me that I was one of God's children, I probably never would have amounted to anything!” And he walked away. The seminary professor and his wife were stunned. He called the waitress over and asked her, "Do you know who that man was who just left that was sitting at our table?” The waitress grinned and said, “Of course. Everybody here knows him. That's Ben Hooper. He's governor of Tennessee!”

In doing some background checking, some parts of that story are factual (for example, Ben Hooper, the governor of Tennessee, really was born to an unwed mother) and some parts aren’t (he did know who his father was and eventually he ended up living with his father), but regardless of the historicity of the story, it is a story that I find to be true.  If we can really claim our identity as children of God, if we can be aware of the awesomeness of our baptisms, of God’s claiming us as our own, we should be changed by that awareness, made new and humbled by the greatness of that claim. 

On this, baptism of the Lord Sunday, we remember our baptism in which God comes and claims us as God’s own.  The Spirit revealed Jesus as God’s son for all of us.  And when we are baptized, we are called to celebrate our revealing as well – God’s children, God’s chosen, called, loved into being.  Baptism of the Lord Sunday is the day when we celebrate that God calls us first, claims us first, even before we are able to ask for it, even before we are able to recognize it, even before we are able to respond.    

But what does that mean to be God’s child?  As I worked on this sermon, I was reminded of a Star Trek Next Generation episode called “The Defector” in which a Romulan (an enemy) appeared to be defecting and asking for asylum from the federation (those are the “good guys” for those not familiar with the series).  He said that he had defected in order to prevent war.  He believed his own people were taking an action that would lead to a terrible war and he wanted to prevent that by giving information to the Federation so they might stop the war from beginning in the first place.  When pushed, he kept saying, “I’m not a traitor! I love my people. I’m here to prevent a war!” As the story unraveled, it became clear that this was a man who was deeply grieving.  He did not want to leave his home, he did not want to leave his family.  “What I did had to be done. But to never again see the Firefalls of Gath Gal'thong, and the spires of my home as they rise above the Apnex Sea at dawn. It's a bitter thing to be exiled from your home.”  When it was pointed out that his people would believe him to be a villain, that they would see him as a traitor, and that because of that he would never, ever be allowed to see his children again, let alone return anywhere near home because of his actions, his response was simple, “There comes a time in a man's life…when he looks down at the first smile of his baby girl and realizes he must change the world for her.  For all children.  It is for her that I am here.  Not to destroy the Romulan Empire, but to save it. For months, I tried desperately to persuade the High Command that another war would destroy the Empire. They got tired of my arguments. Finally I was censured, sent off to command some distant sector. This was my only recourse. I will never see my child smile again. She will grow up believing that her father is a traitor. But she will grow up.”  

That kind of love, the kind of love that cares so much for the other that it is willing not only to die but to suffer humiliation, rejection, exile – that is the kind of love God had for us in coming to be with us in another human person.  That is the kind of love God has for us when God claims us as God’s children.  When we accept our baptisms, when we remember Jesus baptism, we are both accepting the love of this kind of God, AND we are promising to try to love with that same self-less depth.

Today, on this second Sunday of Epiphany, we are called to reflect on the amazing gift of baptism that God has given to first Jesus, and then us.  It is a gift of remembering that God calls us into relationship with God.  It is a gift of remembering that God initiates care for us, call to us, purpose and meaning for our lives, before we are even old enough to choose to respond. It is a gift that says, “because I first chose you, because I first brought new life to you, because I begin your life by giving to you every day again and again; now you are called to return that gift to all God’s people which are all people, to all creation, caring back, giving second chances to others, choosing to love and live and care for others in the way that I have cared for you.”  It is a gift, like the star of last week, that shows us the light and invites us to use it to see just how much and how deeply we are loved by God.

The Tragedy of the Commons

Exodus 3:1-15

Matthew 16:21-28

               While we were on vacation, I took my family to the Exploratorium.  They have an exhibit currently on social dilemmas in which people are invited to look at times when they choose for themselves and their own best interests, vs times when they choose for the good of everyone, the common good, the highest good for others.  The exhibit entrance starts with a look at what was originally called the tragedy of the commons.  The tragedy of the commons describes a situation of cattle herders sharing a common parcel of land on which they are each entitled to let their cows graze, (this used to be the way it was done in English villages).  If a herder puts more than his allotted number of cattle on the common, overgrazing may result. For each additional animal that a herder adds to the common, that individual herder will benefit, but the whole group will suffer from the damage to the commons. If all herders were to make this individually rational economic decision, the common would be depleted or even destroyed, which would harm every herder there, including the one seeking self-betterment by putting more than his fair share of animals on the land. 

           The tragedy of the commons has been used to study many things including sustainability, care for the environment, economic systems and human psychology.  And, depending on who does the study and how the study is done, the results vary between communities where people put their own self-interest above others and communities where people truly work together for everyone’s best interest. In the United States, the study tended to show people to be more selfish and self-oriented, taking advantage of what was common to serve themselves above others, and only really understanding, too late that what was harmful for others, also was harmful to themselves. 

               Another part of the exhibit explored a study called the Career criminal dilemma: The scenario is as follows: Two members of a criminal gang are arrested and imprisoned. Each prisoner is in solitary confinement with no means of communicating with the other. The prosecutors lack sufficient evidence to convict the pair on the main charge. They hope to get both sentenced to a year in prison on a lesser charge. Simultaneously, the prosecutors offer each prisoner a bargain. Each prisoner is given the opportunity either to: betray the other by testifying that the other committed the crime, or to cooperate with the other by remaining silent. The offer is:

If A and B each betray the other, each of them serves 2 years in prison

If A betrays B but B remains silent, A will be set free and B will serve 3 years in prison (and vice versa)

If A and B both remain silent, both of them will only serve 1 year in prison (on the lesser charge)

       Obviously the best self-interest of each alone is to betray the other, though if they have a bigger view of connection or care for the other, then neither will betray the other.   Interestingly, usually in this situation, neither does betray the other.

               I’ve shared with you before one other example of this.  I have a family member who was a psychology professor at Cal State East Bay.  Every semester for his many years of teaching he used to do an experiment with his psychology class.  He would tell the class that everyone would have a choice about how many points they would get for attending class that day.  They could choose to get 5 points or 25 points.  However, if more than 15% of the class were to ask for 25 points, everyone in the class would get zero.  What do you think the results were?  Always the entire class would receive no points.  Every single time it was almost exactly 70% of the people in the class who would ask for the 25 points for themselves.  Even when they knew the results of other classes in which Gene had offered the test, the percentage was the same.  There was, however, one thing that could change that percentage.  If the professor told the class that those students who asked for the 25 points for themselves would have their names read aloud, the effect went away.  The fear of loss of social status was the only thing he found that was greater than the fear of not getting ahead in points.  That fits in with our other two examples.  In the prison dilemma, both would have been aware of what the other had chosen, so the pressure to act in a way which benefits the other is strong.  This is opposed to the tragedy of the commons in which people could probably find reasons to justify and ways to hide the choice to be more selfish.  These experiments also show us that much of the issue here has to do with personal connections.  People act and vote and generally choose behaviors that benefit those of their own community – their own family, their own economic class, their own race… people generally act in the best interests of people they understand, can relate to, who look like them and share cultural commonalities.

               My children recently found and purchased a book entitled Hyperbole and a Half (Simon and Schuster, Oct 29, 2013).  In one section, author Allie Brosh wrote,

“I like to believe that I would behave heroically in a disaster situation.  I like to think this because it makes me feel good about myself.  Conveniently it is very unlikely that I will ever actually have to do anything to prove it.  As long as I never encounter a disaster situation, I can keep believing I’m a hero indefinitely.  Similarly, I can safely believe that I am the type of person who would donate a kidney to a loved one, give a million dollars to help save the animals, and survive a biological disaster due to my superior immune system and overwhelming specialness.  As long as no one I love ever needs a kidney, I don’t become a millionaire, and my immune system is never put to the test by an antibiotic-resistant super flu, these are just things I can believe for free.

It gets a bit trickier when I want to believe a thing about myself that actually requires me to do or think something.  The things I am naturally inclined to do and think are not the same as the things I want to believe I would do and think.  And I’m not even slightly realistic about what I want to be.  …I desperately want to believe I would seize the opportunity to help a loved one without a second thought for my own well-being but I’m almost certain it wouldn’t play out like that. …   What I am is constantly thrust into my face while I’m trying to be better than I am.  Even if I’m actively doing all the right things, I can’t escape the fact that my internal reactions are those of a fundamentally horrible person. I don’t just want to do the right thing. I want to WANT to do the right thing. … being aware of not wanting to do the right thing ruins my ability to enjoy doing the right thing after I’m forced into doing it through shame.“

               The point is that these feelings are pretty normal, I think.  If you realize that 70% of us, at least in the United States, choose selfishly for themselves in a class room of highly educated people, that means that probably 70% of folk struggle with that sense of wanting more for ourselves and focusing predominantly on caring for ourselves and our loved ones rather than for the “least” of these.  I say in the United States because we know there are other cultures that do not behave this way.  For example in South Africa, there is a word they use: Ubuntu.  It means, “I am because we are.”  The belief behind it is that they understand that each person does not and cannot exist in isolation.  How this manifests in South Africa: if someone asks for something, they are given it because you exist together and what serves one serves all.  An anthropologist had been studying the habits and customs of this tribe, and when he finished his work, had to wait for transportation that would take him to the airport to return home. He’d always been surrounded by the children of the tribe, so to help pass the time before he left, he proposed a game for the children to play. He’d bought lots of candy and sweets in the city, so he put everything in a basket with a beautiful ribbon attached. He placed it under a solitary tree, and then he called the kids together. He drew a line on the ground and explained that they should wait behind the line for his signal. And that when he said “Go!” they should rush over to the basket, and the first to arrive there would win all the candies. When he said “Go!” they all unexpectedly held each other’s hands and ran off towards the tree as a group. Once there, they simply shared the candy with each other and happily ate it. The anthropologist was very surprised. He asked them why they had all gone together, especially if the first one to arrive at the tree could have won everything in the basket – all the sweets. A young girl simply replied: “How can one of us be happy if all the others are sad?”

               But in the United States, we are a culture that is more focused on individualism.  As a result, it is harder for us to remember that we truly are all connected and that what hurts you hurts me.  One of my favorite quotes as a result is: a good person fights for themself and their own. A Great person fights for everyone else.

               What does all of this have to do with our faith?  Today we heard two stories.  The first was about Moses who was called to set the people of Israel free from their enslavement.  It is important for us to remember the context of who Moses was, because although he himself was born of an Israelite mother, he was raised by the Pharoah’s daughter.  He was brought up with all privileges and advantages of being in the royal palace with those in charge.  But from that place of privilege, he gave up all he had to fight those who had raised him, those who had loved him, those who had cared for him in order to set free the people of Israel.  Moses gave up his security, his privilege, his house and wealth and riches and travelled in the desert for 40 years.  He died there, following God’s call, after having given up everything to help lead people out of slavery. 

Then we have Jesus.  Jesus gave up his life loving us, caring for us.  But he also told us that we are called to follow.  In this passage he is very, very clear.  “Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me.  For whoever wants to save their life will lose it, but whoever loses their life for me will find it.” 

When we are willing to die caring for Jesus, caring for God, caring for the ones God loves, caring for God’s children, we will find our lives.  When we put our own self-interests first, we will lose our lives.  We will be lost.  The tragedy of the commons says the same thing: when we put our self-interest above the self-interest of others, all of us lose out.  ALL of us.  We go down as well.  According to the experiment that my brother and law always did, only about 30% of folk get that.  The rest?  Not so much.  But our faith calls us to act on behalf of the least of these, the poorest, the most oppressed, the most displaced, as Moses did, as Jesus did, even when we don’t feel like it, even when we want to do only what is best for ourselves and those closest to us, even when we are afraid. 

               This desire to care for others should affect every single decision that we make.  How do we spend our money?  Where do we shop?  Does the places we shop and the things we buy use child labor?  Do they damage or harm others?  How do we vote?  Do we vote in ways that lift up the poor, the oppressed, those suffering?  How do we decide what to do with the money we “earn” that has been entrusted to us by God to use for the glory of God?  How do we treat the “least of these” – those who are poor or oppressed or struggling?  How do we treat those who make us uneasy, those who are cruel, those who are mean, those with whom we disagree?  How do we behave in our cars towards others who are unkind or who make mistakes?  How do we behave even when we are afraid?  Do we take from others to save ourselves?  Or do we willingly put ourselves at risk in order to care for God’s “least of these” in whom, we are told, we will find Jesus?

               As I was working on this sermon, a praise song came to mind, written by Matthew West, “My Own Little World”:

               In my own little worls, it harldy ever rains

               I’ve never gone hungry, I’ve always felt safe.

               I got some money in my pocket, shoes on my feet

               In my own little world: population me.

               I try to stay awake thru Sunday morning church

               I throw a twenty in the plate but I never give ‘til it hurts

               And I turn off the news when I don’t like what I see

               Yeah, it’s easy to do when it’s population me.

               What if there’s a bigger picture

               What if I’m missing out

               What if there’s a greater purpose

               I could be living right now

               Outside my own little world.

               Stopped at a red light, looked out the window

               I saw a cardboard sign that said, “help this homeless widow”

   Just above this sign was the face of a human

               I thought to myself, “God, what have I been doing?”

               So I rolled down the window and I looked her in the eye

               Oh how many times have I just passed her by

               I gave her some money then I drove on through

               In my own little world there’s population two.

               I’m going to break my heart for what breaks Yours

               Give me open hands and open doors

               Put Your light in my eyes and let me see

               That my own little world is not about me…

               Jesus is clear: we must be willing to lose our very lives for our enemies as well as those we love if we want to find them.  That is what it means to follow in the way, to follow the call of Jesus, to follow the God of Love.  It isn’t easy, but when we practice what is hard, it does become easier, it does become clearer.  The call is for all of us.  Amen.

Sunday's Sermon: Losing your Life

Losing Your Life

James 3:1-12

Mark 8:27-38

9/13/15

            Several years ago now I attended a conference called “The church we can see from here.”  And at that conference, we discussed what is happening in our churches.  Mostly the conversation focused on the general fear that seems to be permeating our churches about decline and closures.  For those who aren’t aware, the Church, big C, across denominations, is shrinking at an alarming rate.  Statistics from the Presbyterian News Service in Louisville indicate that in 2014, membership in the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.) fell by 92,000 members.  When we expand that to look at other denominations, the stats are similar.  20 churches a day closed in the United States last year.  20 churches a DAY.  This does not include congregations that changed denominational affiliation.  This is all congregations who closed because they simply could no longer afford to stay open.  From an article written by the Presbyterian News Service in March of this year, we learn that since 2012, the U.S. dropped 7.5 million more Americans who are no longer active in religion. Over a third of Americans (35 percent) currently never attend a worship service (other than weddings and funerals).  Financially this translated into $110 Million less in giving just to the Presbyterian Church in 2014 than what had been given in 2013.  These are scary numbers.  This is a scary reality.  And it doesn’t give too much comfort to know that this is not only true in the Presbyterian Church U.S.A..  Knowing that all of the denominations are going through this doesn’t help with the general fear.  The Christian Church is on the decline in the United States.

            These facts can be depressing.  And many of us who love our church, who love our God, who love Jesus and are faith filled people often find ourselves asking that hard question, “why?” again and again. Article after article is written in answer to that question, and each gives a different answer. We can find ourselves lost in the despair of this news.  Churches typically tend to respond to these declines in one of two ways.  Many move into a survival mode, in which they begin to shut down every program that actually has the chance to reach out to folks because they are afraid of going bankrupt.  Others throw up their hands in despair, pass the buck to others in the church, bury their heads and choose not to deal with it.

            Are either of these responses what Jesus calls us to do?  I’m not asking what your heart or mind, your reason or your fear ask from you.  What does Jesus call us to do in the face of these numbers, these statistics and in the face of our own fear?

            I want to tell you the story of a small congregation that faced these same challenges.  I shared this story with our elders last month, but it is an important story for all of us, I believe.  This particular congregation struggled to stay alive, they cut staff, they cut programs, and instead of growing, of course, without their staff and programs their decline moved ever faster.  The church was located in a quickly changing urban community.  While the few members of the church were older and white, the neighborhood had become more and more inhabited by people of color and younger families.  It was a distressed neighborhood and gangs were active in the area.  The church members loved their church, but they also feared even coming to the building for their own safety.  Finally, this small church reached the point where it could only really claim about 10 elderly members, and they realized they just could not keep their doors open any longer.  But as they met and discussed the dissolution of the church, one of these faithful older members said, “Okay, we have surrendered.  We choose to give up the life of our institution.  But we will not do it for no purpose.  With the last money, and last energy we have, let’s serve this community with everything we have left.  Let’s truly give up our lives in order that the community might live.”  They began studies about gangs in the community and how other areas had dealt with them.  And after much prayer and research, they went to the school, asking for the names of troubled kids who could be part of a program that paired one of these elderly members of the church with a gang member.  They sold their idea to the school and these pairs were formed.  At first there was great fear on one side (the side of the church members), and great anger and boredom on the part of the kids.  But an amazing thing happened through their time together.  They got to know one another.  And these elderly folk gave these gang members the opportunity to serve them, to care for them, to help them with their grocery shopping and cleaning.  In exchange they helped these young people with their homework, with their studies, with tough decisions, presenting a different morality and a different vision of what their lives could be.  They believed in these young people, which in itself changed lives.  Mostly, they befriended these young people.  Can you guess the result? 

            These young people began to come to their church, and they brought their parents with them.  The church began to grow.  It is now self-sustaining. A church of several hundred faithful, committed, loving and dedicated Christians.  It is not a mega-church.  But it is a church that continues to do this ministry to the gangs, continues to reach out, a church that is relevant in the community and is doing the ministry of our God in the world. 

            The gospels tell us that the disciples who joined Jesus left everything they had to follow Jesus.  Everything.  But I would say that today it is often the most faithful who find it hard to leave certain things, to give up certain things, in following Jesus.  Are we willing to take risks with our safety?  Are we willing to give up some time to spend studying our community and identifying the greatest needs around us?  Are we willing to give up our fixed vision of what church must be or even should be?  Are we willing to give up the institution of the church as we know it in order to see what new thing God might be doing in the world and how we might become a part of it?   Are we willing to give all that we might receive the promise of new life?

            That may not sound like good news to you.  But I tell you, there are always different ways of looking at things.  One of the ways of looking at church decline is to see it as a kick in the pants, encouraging us to get out of our comfort zones and really look at what God is calling us to do.  In the 50s, new people would wander into congregations and we did not need to go out to them.  But that is not the case now.  We are no longer sought out “country club” type communities.  People don’t come to church anymore simply because it is what everyone does.  Instead, when people choose to come to church it is because they are looking for something real.  They are coming because they want to connect to their faith and to God, and to a faith community.  They are coming because they really care about connecting with something beyond themselves.  They are coming because they are looking for meaning and purpose. That is very Good News.  But it is also a challenge to us to strive to provide that for those who come.  People can choose to do many things with their Sunday mornings now.  If they choose to come to church, what will keep them here?  Do they see that other lives are changed?  And if not, why would they come?  If it doesn’t make a difference, why spend your time in this place?  As we consider this, I challenge all of us to listen for God’s voice in the current situation of our congregation and of the Church, universal.  What is God calling us to do?  What position is God calling us to have in what some may consider a crisis in our congregations?  Does God call us to look at the church with fear and to spend our energy struggling to simply survive?  Or does God call us to risk, and to change, and to do genuine, affective ministry in our community, searching out the needs of the larger community and committing to serve them with what we have?  Does God call us to look at the decline of the church as a travesty and a cause for great alarm?  Or does God call us to hear the words of Isaiah 43: 16-19 when he declares, “This is what the Lord says- he who made a way through the sea, a path through the mighty waters,... ‘Forget the former things; I do not dwell on the past.  See, I am doing a new thing!  Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?  I am making a way in the desert and streams in the wasteland.’”

            Can you not perceive it?  While many would say this is a terrible time for the church, I ask you to see it in a new way.  This is an exciting time.  God is doing a new thing!  God has chosen us in this time and place to see a new thing. 

            That’s not to say that it isn’t hard or scary.  Many have said that the Church is facing a Good Friday.  We fear the death of the Christian Church, and we cannot see beyond it to what the resurrection will look like.  But our faith calls us, absolutely, to trust that the resurrection IS coming.  As we heard in Mark today, “For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it.”

            What I am saying is that the Church cannot focus our attention so much on our survival that we fail to do the work of the church, which is ministry in the world and in the community, loving God with all our heart, soul, strength and mind, and loving our neighbors, all of them, as ourselves.  I am calling you, even as you keep your eyes open, to have faith that if we choose to serve God and God’s people, if we stop being afraid of death and instead really choose to live a life following Christ, that God will not forsake us, though our life as a church may look different as we seek to do God’s will and follow God’s lead.  I am calling you to pray to God for this church and for its ministry and to listen for where God is leading you in ministry.  I am asking you to search your heart for the visions you have of ministry in this place and to bring those ideas to session so that we can help make those visions and dreams that God has given you a reality.  God has called every member of this church and every member has a vision for ministry from God.  Listen to that.  Dream about that. 

A young and successful executive was traveling down a neighborhood street, going a bit too fast in his new Jaguar. He was watching for kids darting out from between parked cars and slowed down when he thought he saw something. As his car passed, no children appeared. Instead, a brick came smashing into his side door! He slammed on the brakes and backed the Jag up. The angry driver jumped out of the car, grabbed the nearest kid and pushed him up against a parked car shouting, 'Just what the heck do you think you're doing?' he yelled. That's my NEW car!  That brick you threw is going to cost you a lot of money...' he fumed. 'Why did you do it?'

The young boy was apologetic. 'Please, mister... I'm sorry but I didn't know what else to do,'

 He pleaded, 'I threw the brick because no one would stop...' With tears streaming down his face, the boy pointed to a spot just around a parked car.  'It's my brother, 'he said.  'He rolled off the curb and fell out of his wheelchair,' he sobbed.  'I can't lift him up.' The boy asked the stunned executive, 'Would you please help me get him back into his wheelchair?  He's hurt and he's too heavy for me.' Moved beyond words, the driver hurriedly lifted the handicapped boy back into the wheelchair, then took out a linen handkerchief and dabbed at the fresh scrapes and cuts.

A quick look told him everything was going to be okay. 'Thank you so very much,' the grateful boy told the stranger. At a loss for words, the man simply watched the boy push the wheelchair down the sidewalk toward their home... It was a long, slow walk back to the Jaguar. The damage was quite noticeable, but the driver never bothered to repair the dented side door. He decided to keep the dent as a reminder.  To me, the decline of the church is a brick coming out of the air, calling for us to pay attention, and to be willing to risk, to give it all, in order to follow Christ.  For it is only in being willing to lose our lives for God, for the sake of God’s people, that we will find them.  Amen.