Passionate Worship -- FPC sermon excerpt

Come with me now, on a journey to the Washington National Cathedral.

This church is a massive stone structure, the sixth largest cathedral in the world, with a ceiling that rises 100 feet. You might think that worship in such a cavernous space would be cold and inhospitable, but this is not the case. On a sabbatical visit last fall, I find that the cathedral has discovered ways to welcome people warmly — something that every church needs to learn how to do.

The Sunday service begins with a stirring organ prelude, and then Sam Lloyd, the dean of the cathedral, offers a welcome to the gathered worshipers and talks briefly about the life of the cathedral in the week to come. He takes a minute to introduce the Scriptures that will be read in the service, and speaks of how we will all be shaped as disciples of Christ throughout the service of worship.

I find that Sam’s personal warmth takes the chill out of the limestone room, and his focus on the life of the cathedral puts me in touch with the human dimension of the place. I am impressed by his introduction of the Scriptures, which sets the stage for the readings and sermon, and his statement that the service has the power to transform us. For both members and guests, the value of worship is increased by his promise of spiritual growth.

Spiritual growth is at the heart of Luke 18:9-14, a story that Jesus tells about two men who go up to the temple to pray. One is a Pharisee, a devout Jewish worshiper. The other is a tax collector, the stereotypical sinner of first-century Jerusalem (Luke 18:10).

The Pharisee, standing apart from the crowd, says to God in prayer, “I thank you that I am not like other people: thieves, rogues, adulterers, or even like this tax collector. I fast twice a week; I give a tenth of all my income” (vv. 11-12). He is doing everything right, from a law-abiding point of view. His problem, however, is that he is happy with the way he is. He is not looking for spiritual growth.

The tax collector, on the other hand, will not even raise his eyes to heaven. He beats his breast and says, “God, be merciful to me, a sinner!” (v. 13). He is honest enough to know that his life is a mess, and that he is completely out of whack with his religious convictions. His strength, however, is that he is deeply unhappy with his current life, and desperate for transformation. He comes before God with a sincere desire for forgiveness and new life.

It is the tax collector, rather than the Pharisee, who practices Passionate Worship. He is the one with an intense longing for a connection with God.

The curriculum we are using for our small-group discussions was written by Robert Schnase, a bishop in the United Methodist Church. Schnase says that “Passionate Worship begins with our love for God, our desire to open ourselves to God’s grace, and our eagerness for relationship to God.” The tax collector clearly has a burning love for God, a deep desire for God’s grace, and a hunger to have a relationship with God.

That’s why Jesus says that the tax collector goes down to his home justified — which means that he is made right with God. The Pharisee does not, “for all who exalt themselves will be humbled,” says Jesus, “but all who humble themselves will be exalted” (v. 14).

Radical Hospitality -- FPC sermon excerpt

I was on sabbatical last September, visiting churches that do a particularly good job of welcoming and including people. They practice what is the first of our topics for this fall’s sermon series: Radical Hospitality.

Come with me now, to sunny Southern California.

I drive my rental car from Los Angeles to the city of Lake Forest, and enter the campus of Saddleback Church. Wide driveways welcome me, with excellent signage pointing me to large and convenient parking lots. A traffic light in the middle of the campus helps to control the flow of cars driven by the 20,000 worshipers who attend services each week.

Trams are available to transport worshipers to various buildings, and a sign directs first-time visitors to a special shuttle area with coffee and donuts. The landscaping and architecture remind me of a theme park, with waterfalls and large tents, and I can understand why some people refer to the church as “Six Flags Over Jesus.”

Saddleback was founded in 1980 by pastor Rick Warren, who started the church by going door-to-door and talking with people about why they were not involved in a congregation. He asked why people don’t go to church, and then used their reasons in his letter of invitation to the first Saddleback service. Rick positioned Saddleback as “a church for the unchurched,” and wrote his letter in such a way that it addressed the desires of the unchurched, rather than the needs of Christians from other churches.

The first Saddleback service was held in a high school theater and attracted 205 worshipers, and as the congregation grew it moved through 80 different facilities until it reached the current campus in the early 1990s. Rick still wants to attract the unchurched; he wants to address people’s concerns and meet their needs.

Rick and the members of Saddleback invite their neighbors to “come and see.” They want people to come and see what God is doing in the worship, faith development, mission, and generosity of Saddleback Church. They know that Radical Hospitality is at the heart of the ministry and mission of the church, and is the first step of becoming a truly hospitable congregation, one that embraces all people with God’s love and grace.

Jesus took this same approach when he called his first disciples. In the Gospel of John, Jesus is seen by John the Baptist and two of his disciples. John says, “Look, here is the Lamb of God!” The two disciples begin to follow Jesus, and Jesus asks them, “What are you looking for?” (vv. 35-38).

What a great question! What are you looking for? What do you think people are looking for today? Probably the same things that people have always been looking for. Robert Schnase, a bishop in the United Methodist Church, has written the materials we are using for our small group discussions connected to this sermon series. If you haven’t signed up for a small group yet, I encourage you to do so today, in the narthex. Groups will be meeting on Sundays at 10 a.m., in various rooms throughout the church, beginning today.

Schnase suggests that people are looking for the assurance that “God loves them, that they are of supreme value, and that their life has significance. People need to know that they are not alone; that when they face life’s difficulties, they are surrounded by a community of grace …. People need to learn how to offer and accept forgiveness and how to serve and be served.”

That’s what the first disciples were looking for, and that’s what people are looking for today. The two disciples sense that Jesus can help them with this, so they say, “Rabbi, where are you staying?” And Jesus says to them, “Come and see” (vv. 38-39).

Come and see. That’s what Jesus says to the two disciples, and what we can say as well. We don’t have to present people with a perfect understanding of theology, a worship service where no one sings a wrong note, or a children’s program that is a perfect match for the needs of every child. What we are challenged to do is invite people into a spiritual home where they can discover for themselves the richness of life in relationship with Jesus Christ.

That’s the radical part of Radical Hospitality. Not radical as in wild and crazy, on the fringes, out of control, or in your face. No, Bishop Schnase reminds us that the word radical means “arising from the source,” so it describes practices that are rooted in the life of Christ, and that radiate into the lives of others. Our hospitality is Radical Hospitality when we go back to the source and invite people to “come and see,” just as Jesus did.

The Towers of Jesus -- FPC sermon excerpt

In Barcelona, Spain, there is a church that has been under construction for more than a century. And it is still not finished.

From a distance, the four main towers of the church look like giant drip sandcastles on the beach. But as you get closer, you discover that they are psychedelic, mind-bending masterpieces.

The architect? Antoni Gaudi, born in 1852. Some love his work, some hate it. But everyone agrees that Gaudi is gaudy — showy and ornamental, full of geometric shapes and images plucked from nature.

According to Hemispheres Magazine (May 2009), Gaudi’s church is still incomplete after 125 backbreaking years. When the cornerstone was put in place, Chester A. Arthur was president of the United States and Victoria was the queen of England. For all that time, the church has been wrapped in scaffolding and cranes, and the work has inched along — continuing even through the death of Gaudi himself, killed in a streetcar accident on his way to work in the year 1926.

Finally — yes, finally — the interior will be finished. For the first time in its history, the church will host a Catholic Mass in its main nave this month. Then, in November, the pope will stop by to consecrate the church.

“For which of you,” asks Jesus in the Gospel of Luke, “intending to build a tower, does not first sit down and estimate the cost, to see whether he has enough to complete it? Otherwise, when he has laid a foundation and is not able to finish, all who see it will begin to ridicule him, saying, ‘This fellow began to build and was not able to finish’” (14:28-30).

The next step in the construction of Gaudi’s church will be the completion of its final spire: A 550-foot high “Tower of Jesus.” This tower was started by Gaudi and will be finished by others, hopefully by 2026 — the 100th anniversary of Gaudi’s death.

This long and intricate building project raises a question for us today: What are the towers that Christ is challenging us to build, and do we have the perseverance and commitment to complete them?

We’ll be starting construction on five towers here at FPC in the next five weeks, in a series of sermons and small group discussions. Based on the work of Robert Schnase, they are the towers of radical hospitality, passionate worship, intentional faith development, risk-taking mission and service, and extravagant generosity. Together, these five are The Towers of Jesus, essential parts of being a hospitable congregation.

Jeremiah and Optimistic America -- FPC sermon excerpt

It’s been a tough decade for optimists.

Nine years ago this month, our security and serenity was shattered by the 9-11 terrorist attacks. The crashing of airliners into the Twin Towers, the Pentagon, and a field in Pennsylvania left us feeling stunned, frightened, and traumatized. I started my ministry at FPC in January 2001, and then in September — BANG! The world changed.

Since then, we have been stressed by participation in two foreign wars and a global economic meltdown.

“My joy is gone, grief is upon me, my heart is sick,” writes the prophet Jeremiah to the people of Israel (8:18). “For the hurt of my poor people I am hurt, I mourn, and dismay has taken hold of me” (v. 21).

We know what Jeremiah is feeling, don’t we? Heartsickness, grief, loss of joy. Hurt, dismay, and deep mourning. We know it. Even if we don’t admit it.

The challenge of embracing Jeremiah is that his profound sadness runs against the grain of our natural American optimism. We have a predisposition to look on the bright side, accentuate the positive, search for the silver lining.

Author Barbara Ehrenreich says that we are Bright-Sided. This means that we embrace “possibility thinking” and books such as The Secret, Your Best Life Now, and the Chicken Soup for the Soul series. To be Bright-Sided is to turn your frown upside down. Don’t worry, be happy! If you dream it, you can do it.

I’ll be the first to admit: I am not a Bright-Sider.

Neither is the prophet Jeremiah. Instead, he is a Truth-Teller. He respects his people enough to be brutally honest, not overly optimistic. In ancient Israel and today, people facing tough times need the truth, not spin. When we suffer the sudden deaths of church members, we should grieve. When we see people around us losing their jobs, we should take these losses seriously. There is always a place for a message of hope, but it should be grounded in the promises of God, not in superficial platitudes and inspirational feel-good stories.

Barbara Ehrenreich first noticed that positive thinking was the law of the land when she was diagnosed with breast cancer. Thrust into a world of pink ribbons, cancer walks, and uplifting testimonials from cancer survivors, she quickly discovered that something was missing: Outrage at the disease. She felt that she wasn’t supposed to be angry or melancholy, because such feelings were thought to aid the cancer.

“As in all forms of positive thinking,” reports Christianity Today magazine (January 2010), “the key was to ignore the negative emotions and realities and focus instead on your desired outcomes — health and wealth.” After this experience, Ehrenreich wrote the book Bright-Sided: How the Relentless Promotion of Positive Thinking Has Undermined America.

In the face of all this optimism, the prophet Jeremiah says, “Is there no balm in Gilead? Is there no physician there? Why then has the health of my poor people not been restored? O that my head were a spring of water, and my eyes a fountain of tears, so that I might weep day and night for the slain of my poor people?” (8:22, 9:1).

There is nothing Bright-Sided in these words from the prophet. He is weeping day and night for the slain of his people, just as we might weep for the victims of 9-11, the soldiers killed in Iraq, the civilians injured in Afghanistan, and the senior citizens who lost their life savings in the global economic meltdown.

I agree with the prophet Jeremiah: It is always better to be honest than optimistic.