BrintonBlog

Reflections on religion and culture by Henry Brinton, pastor of Fairfax Presbyterian Church (Fairfax, Virginia), author of "Balancing Acts: Obligation, Liberation, and Contemporary Christian Conflicts" (CSS Publishing, 2006), co-author with Vik Khanna of "Ten Commandments of Faith and Fitness" (CSS Publishing, 2008), and contributor to The Washington Post and USA TODAY.

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Location: Fairfax, Virginia, United States

Friday, February 26, 2010

Entertaining Angels -- FPC sermon excerpt

Think about the difference between being a guest … and being a host.

As a guest at a party, you are focused primarily on having a good time. You enter the room, and look for your friends. You pass judgment on the furniture, the decorations, and the feel of the room. You listen to the music, and decide whether you enjoy it or not. You sample the food and drink, to see if you like it or not. As a guest, you are basically a consumer, concerned about your personal comfort. The experience is all about you.

How different it is to be a host. In that role, you are focused primarily on serving others. You greet your guests at the door, and look to connect them with people they would enjoy. You make the sure that the room is set up and decorated appropriately, and conducive to people getting to know one another. You pick music that your guests would like — even if it is not your favorite. Same for the food and drink. As a host, you are concerned about the comfort of others. The experience is all about them.

The difference between being a guest and being a host is enormous. I know this, from personal experience. I like to be a guest — it’s fun! Send me an invitation to your next party — please! I promise I won’t knock over the furniture.

Being a guest is enjoyable. But it is only when you are willing to be a host that you have the experience of entertaining angels. And that is the best party you can possibly imagine.

Hospitality has been critically important in the Bible, from beginning to end. In both the Old and New Testaments, people of faith have welcomed strangers for thousands of years, and they have discovered that there is something holy in their acts of hospitality.

Consider Abraham, the father of our faith — and not only our Christian faith, but the Jewish and Muslim faiths as well. In the book of Genesis, Abraham is camping by the oaks of Mamre, sitting at the entrance of his tent in the heat of the day. He looks up, and sees three men standing near him. Is he surprised? No doubt. A bit frightened? Probably. After all, they are strangers, they outnumber him, and he has no way of knowing if they are friends or foes. But Abraham does not dash inside to get his gun.

Instead, Abraham decides to play the role of host. He runs to meet them, and begs them to stay. He offers them water for foot-washing, the shade of a tree for rest, and a morsel of bread for refreshment. They consider his offer, and then say, “Do as you have said” (Genesis 18:1-5).

At this point, Abraham bends over backwards to meet the needs of his guests. He hastens into the tent and asks his wife Sarah to make cakes. He runs to his herd, picks out a tender calf, and gives it to his servant to slaughter and cook. He takes curds and milk and the carefully prepared calf, serves it to the three strangers, and he stands under a tree while they eat (vv. 6-8).

And who are these three men? Genesis tells us that they are the LORD (v. 1). Maybe the first appearance of God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit. The Bible leaves their exact identity a bit mysterious — some scholars believe that the three are God and two angels. Later, the letter to the Hebrews calls them angels, when it recommends to us, “Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by doing that some have entertained angels without knowing it” (13:2).

At the very least, Abraham’s willingness to be a host puts him in touch with something that is holy.

Friday, February 19, 2010

Scouting the Deep Water -- FPC sermon excerpt-

The sun had just risen when we began our trek up Baldy Mountain. We were a crew of eight Boy Scouts and two adults, a group including Jay Ashe, my son Sam, Jim Ashe, and myself.

At more than 12,000 feet, Baldy is the highest peak in the Philmont Scout Ranch, a high adventure backpacking camp run by the Boy Scouts of America. From the summit, hikers can enjoy spectacular views of the mountains, forests, and lakes of northern New Mexico.

But the summit was still a dream when we started out, hiking through a dense pine forest in the early morning light. Reaching a gorgeous, gurgling mountain stream, we took a right turn and headed down a wide and comfortable trail for about a mile.

Turned out to be the wrong trail.

Realizing our mistake, we turned around and hiked back. This detour added an extra two miles to our trip, and you might think that we would be discouraged by it. But the extra distance had a surprising benefit. One Scout who had been struggling at the start of the hike gained confidence through the detour, and when we got back on track he felt strong enough to hike to the summit.

His success required venturing out, beyond his comfort zone. And, when you think about it, our success requires the very same thing.

The Boy Scouts of America have been challenging boys to push their limits for a century now. In fact, February the 8th was their 100th anniversary. On this particular Boy Scout Sunday, we stop and recognize the impact of this youth organization, one that has involved more than 110 million Americans over the past hundred years.

The appeal of Scouting is that it challenges boys to explore a wide range of outdoor activities, and make surprising discoveries about themselves and the world around them. They find that the comfort of staying home is no match for the amazing things that happen when they venture out.

I think that Jesus would agree.

In the 5th chapter of Luke, Jesus is standing by the lake of Gennesaret, and the crowd is pressing in on him to hear the word of God. He sees two boats at the shore, empty because the fishermen had left to wash their nets. Jesus gets into the boat belonging to Simon, and moves away from the shore, so that he will have some distance from the crowd, and will be able to teach them. When Jesus finishes his speech, he decides to extend his lesson with a dramatic illustration. He challenges Simon, “Put out into the deep water and let down your nets for a catch” (5:1-4).

Put out into the deep water, says Jesus. That’s venturing out, taking a chance, being active and adventurous. Jesus wants Simon to act like a Boy Scout.

“Master, we have worked all night long but have caught nothing,” laments Simon. He sounds like he wants to stay close to shore, safe and comfortable, since his time on the water has not yielded any fish. “Yet if you say so,” says Simon, “I will let down the nets.” And he does (v. 5).

The result? Simon and his fellow fishermen catch so many fish that their nets are beginning to break. They call for their partners in the other boat to come and help, and they end up filling both boats to the point that they are beginning to sink (vv. 6-7).

They wind up with an unexpected, amazing, and overwhelmingly abundant catch. All because they are willing to follow the words of Jesus, and scout the deep water.

That’s the challenge for us today, right here at FPC: To venture beyond our comfort zones, and put out into the deep water in lives of Christian discipleship. Too often we stay close to shore, safe and comfortable, when Jesus is calling us to be active, adventurous, and willing to explore new territory. That’s where the fish are. That’s where the growth happens. That’s where we can make surprising discoveries about ourselves and the world around us.

Just ask any Boy Scout.