Do you REALLY know who you are?

A sermon, the third in a series on Discipleship, preached October 26, 2008 at First Presbyterian Church in Lake Crystal

Romans 6:1-11; Colossians 2:6-12; Matthew 3:13-17

Do you REALLY know who you are?

When you look into the mirror, who do you see? When you look into your heart—

(And I don’t know about you, but I find myself doing that before I go to sleep. That’s a good, child-like thing to do, sometimes, as long as you don’t lose sleep over it. Self-examination is really a spiritual discipline. Sometimes in bed might not be the best place to do it. Sometimes a walk, or just sitting alone, or writing in a journal… different things work better for different people. We’re created in God’s image… so we all have something of God’s DNA… but we’re all unique and special… each of us wired a little bit different… different gifts and different ways of praying…)

But when you look into your heart, do you REALLY know who you are?

Does that thought scare you to death? In the movie “The Neverending Story,” the hero comes to a certain test along his journey and remembers the warning: This is the place, the mirror, when people look into and see themselves as they REALLY are. And, boy oh boy oh boy, if we’re honest with ourselves, that can be a frightening thought. It explains why Adam and Eve hid from God. They were no longer able to look at themselves without blushing.

We can feel that way, too. Feeling guilty makes us feel uncomfortable… Guilt makes us feel defensive… makes us feel like running and hiding like Adam and Eve.
Someone has said, “Guilt is a thief of grace.” Guilt clouds the mirror and clouds our hearts and minds—guilt makes us forget who we are.

Different people react differently to looking into the mirror, and probably all us carry guilt about something we regret… but God has NOT created us to be consumed by guilt. The apostle Paul says we should be looking into the mirror through the lens of our baptism into Jesus Christ. Because we share not only in Christ's baptism into death but in Christ's resurrection into New Creation, guilt is supplanted with grace and the paralysis of guilt supplanted by personal accountability rooted in a transformation of self-image and watered by the gift of gratitude. As Paul writes to the church in Rome,

Do you not know that all of us who have been baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death? Therefore we have been buried with him by baptism into death, so that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, so we too might walk in newness of life. For if we have been united with him in a death like his, we will certainly be united with him in a resurrection like his.

Most of you have heard that passage many times before. But chances are there are times when you think of it in a purely “spiritual” sense.

It’s actually somewhat easy to think, “Oh yes, I’ve been spiritually baptized into Christ’s death, so I will someday… somewhere over the rainbow… be united with Christ in a resurrection like his.” It’s almost like the popular country song—it goes something like this: "Everybody wants to go to heaven, but nobody wants to go right now” (Kenny Chesney).

But let’s think of this in a merely “spiritual sense” but in a holistic, all-encompassing sense. Too often we equate “spiritual” with “unreal.” But we have really died with Christ. So we are dead to sin—not in a sort-of unreal spiritual sense, but our whole selves—our spirits, yes, but our minds and bodies, too. We are—our whole selves are—dead to sin.

And if my whole self has died with Christ, then my whole being has been made new in Christ’s resurrection!

So do you REALLY know who you are?

You are the one for whom Christ fulfilled all righteousness. John the Baptizer was shocked when Jesus asked to be baptized. He said, “No, no, I am the one who needs to be baptized by you.” But, you see, in his baptism Jesus took on even the deep and true repentance we were unable to enter into without first entering into Christ. Christ’s baptism has become our baptism.

Do you REALLY know who you are?

You are God’s Beloved. You are a child of God—your whole self is a New Creation in Christ. When you look into the mirror, God wants you to see yourself as the one on whom the dove alights and renews and grants transcendent peace beyond our understanding.

You are the one in whom God takes immense delight; you are God’s Beloved.

As we prepare to celebrate the Lord’s Supper next week, think about who you are in Christ. Communion is the feast of victory of God. It is God’s feast of love, and it was in love that Christ gave himself for us.

As you prepare for communion, recommit yourself to following Jesus because…. Because this is who you were created to be in your baptism!

Spend time this week—each and every day if you possibly can—and simply thank God each day for this immense miracle of grace and unfailing love.

And even when the mirror of your conscience declares you unworthy of God’s gifts, of God’s mercy, of God’s love… even when you—as I so often do—discover that you have neither loved the Lord with all your heart, soul, and mind, nor have we loved our neighbor as yourself, know this to be true:

The mirror of our conscience and even we ourselves have been washed in Christ’s baptism.

When we were unworthy, Christ made us worthy. Christ has become our complete righteousness.

Friends, trust in the work of God on our behalf and receive the gift of forgiveness offered us in Christ Jesus. Our reconciliation to God is found in trusting this good news—that before we chose God, God chose us. God has made us a New Creation in Christ.

So come to the Table next week,
renewed by the Spirit,
a child in whom God takes delight,
a child of God dearly loved by God…
loved by God with love as high and wide
and deep and broad as the love God shares
with our Lord Jesus Christ.

Come to the Table as God’s Beloved,
because that, dear sister, dear brother…
that is who you really are!

Each of us and all of us together

A Sermon by Randy Lubbers (Second in a series of seven)
Matthew 10:1-4; John 15:9-17
First Presbyterian Church • Lake Crystal, Minnesota
Sunday, October 19, 2008

Called

“Follow me.”

That’s an invitation you’ve heard before…

“Follow me” is the simple call Jesus spoke to Peter and Andrew, to John and his brother James, to the tax collector Matthew, and to others, too—women and men: “Follow me… Just follow me.” No fancy argument. No long debate. No motivational speech. No power point presentation. Just, “Follow me.”

“And immediately they left everything… and followed Jesus.”

Again, just to recap last week and to put this in perspective for today, “they left life-as-they-knew-it behind, and—the way Matthew tells the story—they followed Jesus knowing nothing about what might be ahead for them, knowing nothing of Jesus’ teachings or healings or anything else, knowing nothing except his irresistible call, his irresistible authority.

They hear the call. And they follow. And along the journey they learn Christ’s mission from listening to his teachings and watching what he does:

Jesus teaches an upside kingdom of God where the poor in spirit are blessed and given everything, where the meek inherit the earth, where peacemakers are called God’s children. Jesus heals—he goes to those who need his healing the most and makes them whole again. Jesus welcomes sinners—he associates with the tax collectors, the most despicable and unloved.

Those Wall Street tycoons, those shady politicians, those ambulance-chasing lawyers—Jesus has dinner with them! He is their physician before they even know they are sick.

And he does the same with us! He welcomes us not as “good church folks” but he welcomes us as sinners—as weak and weary travelers who for too long have been carrying a load we can no longer bear. And he replaces our heavy burdens with a new, light and easy-to-carry burden—a burden for those still carrying burdens who will jump up and down with joy when they discover the wonder, the awesomeness, the great gladness and peace to be found in following the Master day by day.
Each and every one of you are to be invited to follow Jesus, not because you are good enough, but because Jesus—who is love beyond our imagination—because Jesus wants you to be invited.

Jesus says, “Follow me."

And immediately they left everything… and followed him.

Called in Love

Have you heard, somewhere along the way, Jesus’ call portrayed as something other than a loving call?

When I was in sixth grade, I remember receiving an ominous call. It was a call to make my presence known in the principal’s office. I won’t expand on the exact circumstances, except to say, it didn’t feel like a loving call. Have you ever been called to “get your ‘sorry blank-itty-blank’ in here right now or else” by someone? Ever been called on the carpet? Jesus calls with authority, but gently and in love. His posture is open—hands open and welcoming, arms outstretched and ready to heal and forgive and hug.

Jesus’ call is a call in love for you.

Have you ever thought of Jesus’ call as something which only comes to those who are super-spiritual, to those who are better than you, to those who are richer or smarter, to someone who can sing better than you or teach better than you? No, Jesus’ call is a call for you. His call is for you and me and all of us together.
Jesus calls us in love and for love—to become part of a joyful, blessed ministry of service to others, bearing much fruit, imitating Christ by being a servant to all.
Jesus’ call is a call to compassion. It is a call to walk with Christ as his friend. And as his friend, to share with him and to share in his ministry.

Brian Wren, British poet and hymn writer, says it this way,

True friends
like us to tell
our joys and our fears
and need us to hear
their plans and ideas.
Jesus says,
travel with me
and we’ll be friends for ever.
True friends
show that they care
when life gets us down,
they never play boss
or push us around.
Jesus says,
travel with me
and we’ll be friends for ever.
True friends
say what they think
(and sometimes it hurts),
but stay on our side
when we’re at our worst.
Jesus says,
travel with me
and we’ll be friends for ever.
True friends
don’t make us pay
for all that they give;
they even will die
so others can live.
Jesus says,
travel with me
and we’ll be friends for ever.

Called: Each of Them & All of Them Together

Jesus says, “Follow me.”

And immediately they left everything… and followed him.

And… almost immediately… after a fairly short apprenticeship… Jesus, who calls with authority, calls his followers together and gives them authority. And not just to the most qualified of the group. Jesus gives them all authority.

This is really amazing, you know, because if had been up to you or me, we might have called them into private meetings and given out authority based an analysis of their leadership skills or people skills, or based on who we felt most comfortable working with, or using an aptitude test or a gut feeling or who we liked best.

Jesus could have given out authority only to those disciples who understood his mission, only to the one who had been the best student, only to the most humble, the most loving, the kindest of the bunch.

At the very least, he could have thought twice about Judas Iscariot, who would later betray him. Or at least he might have passed over James and John, who had such anger issues they were called sons of thunder, and who were so filled with pride they had their mother ask Jesus if they could be his number one and two “go-to-guys” in the kingdom.

And, you know, if it had been up to me, I would have thought twice about giving authority to Matthew—everybody knows how devious and shifty those tax collectors were. And if it had been up to you, you might have skipped Simon the Zealot. (You’ve got to think twice about giving authority to someone who advocates using violence and revolution to overthrow the government, like the Zealots did. The Romans and many Jewish religious leaders would have considered him a suspected terrorist.)

So who are we left with? Thomas, the doubter—and we can’t be giving authority to someone who always seems to be troubled by lingering doubts, always needing proof, always coming up short in the “faith department.”

And all the others? We know almost nothing about them. Probably not leadership material.

Oh, and finally, Peter—impulsive, clumsy, rigid, often putting his booming voice in gear before his brain and as a result often putting his foot in his mouth. Peter, who would later go on to deny his Lord to save his own skin…

If it had been up to you or me, who would be good enough? Perhaps we could finally settle on one or two. But Jesus calls them… each one of them…

And he calls all of them together.

I wonder. What might that teach us?

Called to Compassion

Jesus says, “Follow me.”

And immediately they left everything… and followed him.

And… almost immediately… Jesus gives authority to each of them and all of them together. He gives them authority… to do what? To be peacemakers and healers. To do the same things he himself has been doing.

This, too, is quite amazing.

Seventh and eighth grade students: Imagine your confirmation teacher preparing you for just another month or two and then telling you that, instead of coming to class in January and February, you are supposed to go find your own students—those who need to hear about Jesus’ love the most—and teaching them what you’ve learned.

Jesus—who called with authority—grants that same authority to his disciples. Jesus’ call is not just a call to learn and grow and become more and more like him in some vague way. No, it is a call to actively share in his mission, a call to live in love surrounded by his love and to show his love to others.

Kids, this is like your first grade teacher calling you to learn the ABC’s and your addition and subtraction tables, and then—only a month or two later—telling you to go help others learn the same things you have learned. It’s like Jessica Conover teaching you the song, “Shalom, my friend,” and asking you to sing the song with your friends, and asking you to teach them that shalom means peace and that Jesus has called us to be loving and forgiving, patient and kind.

Neil Plantinga, in a speech entitled, “A Child Shall Lead Them,” makes four observations about how thriving churches need to be multi-generational churches. He says "

First (observation): a key to health and life in the church is to treat children and teens as real members of the body of Christ...”

Not as future members… not as not-quite-yet members… not as someday members.

No. Not someday, but now. Children and young people, you are not the so-called “future of the church.” You are the church!

And parents and grandparents, deacons and elders, if you can say “Amen!” to that, then is not the very same thing true for each of us, too—and even more true?
Of course it is. Who among us is called to follow Jesus as members of the audience? Who among us is called to come to a church to be passive receivers of a weekly (or monthly) “minimum-recommended” dosage of Jesus, and not called to participate in Jesus’ mission? Any of us?

By the way, this is Neil Plantinga’s second observation:

We adults have much to give to children and teens when it comes to passing on the faith, and we have a great responsibility to give it.

You know, I wonder sometimes… Is it maybe because the church has for so long—for generations even—treated young people and children as future but not-yet members of the church, that so many of our children have grown up to be parents and even grandparents who still think of themselves as “future but not-yet” members? As members in the audience? I wonder.

Friends in Christ, the greatest thing in the world a father can do for his children is to put them on the path of faith; to teach them the psalms and hymns and spiritual songs; to tell the stories of Joseph’s many-colored coat and Jesus’ seamless robe, of the garden of Eden and the garden of Gethsemane, of Moses smashing the golden calf; and about Judas betraying Jesus and Peter denying him; and about Jesus’ resurrection and Steven’s brave witness and Saul’s complete transformation after seeing Jesus face-to-face. The greatest thing a mother can do for her children—indeed, the greatest thing any of you can do for children, quoting Neil Plantinga’s own quote from his former pastor, is

…To put them on the path of faith, to help move them onto the same path with Abraham and Sarah and Moses and Miriam and David and Ruth and Jesus and Paul and Peter. To put children on that path is to save them from drifting—and from drowning. The path of faith is where they need to be, because that’s the path that leads home, all the way home to the heart of God and the kingdom of God, where the Lord is always welcoming sons and daughters with banquets and bands and punchbowls.

And, if any adults don’t know the stories, then are we not called to learn them so they can be taught. And aren’t we called to do this together?

The call of Jesus Christ is a call to compassion. Compassion means “shared suffering;” and we often think of compassion in the context of sharing in the suffering of those who are the last and least, the suffering of the hungry children in the world, the suffering of the sick, and the suffering of those going through the hardest of circumstances…

And yes, we are indeed called to compassion in that sense of the word. But on a deeper level, we are called to compassion with Christ himself—in other words, to share in Christ’s passion, to share in his compassion for those children in need of a shepherd.

As I often mention, it is always important—when trying to understand a passage of scripture—to understand and pay attention to the context of the passage. I think it is very illuminating to re-read the paragraph immediately preceding Jesus’ giving authority to his disciples:

Then Jesus went about all the cities and villages, teaching in their synagogues, and proclaiming the good news of the kingdom, and curing every disease and every sickness. When he saw the crowds, he had compassion for them, because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd. Then he said to his disciples, “The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few; therefore ask the Lord of the harvest to send out laborers into his harvest.”

And then, immediately after that passage, with heartfelt compassion for the sheep in need of a shepherd, Jesus calls his disciples together and gives each of them and all of them together the authority, the holy calling to be shepherds, to be pastors.
Because he couldn’t do it all by himself.

Sisters and brothers in Christ, please forgive me if I have ever, ever given you the impression that the ministry of this church is up to me—that I feel like I can do it all—because I can’t. Even Jesus couldn’t do it all by himself. And he has called each of us and all of us together to share in his work.

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.
Amen.