29 July 2008

A Sermon for St. David's, Cranbury
29 June 2008
Proper 8, Year A

Hi. I'm Allie. And I'm a Christian. Doesn't that sound a bit like the beginning of a 12-step meeting? I'm Allie, and I'm a Christian. I don't know about you, but as an Episcopalian, sometimes it can seem like that hard a thing to admit.

I don't know about the rest of you, but I tend to live in a secular world. A few of my friends are religious – most aren't. Of those, some are Christians – some aren't. And those “aren'ts” in both categories seem to have bad associations with those who consider themselves Christians. I actually have some friends who call themselves “Christ Followers” because they don't want the normally inaccurate associations that go along with calling oneself a Christian.

But I'm proud to be a Christian... quietly.
But what does that mean – to be a Christian quietly? How does that work? How can we, as Paul wrote “be slaves to righteousness” while being effective – and not completely obnoxious? I'm sure everyone here has experienced the... embarrassment... of being around one of those stereotypes? The “Christians” who are completely self-righteous and convinced of their own salvation (and everyone elses damnation) while being generally mean, rude, or otherwise annoying people. Like those who drive their hummers while sipping a latte, talking on their cell phones, with no regard for your or my life... with a Jesus fish on the back of their car? Yeah.

In his letter to the Romans, Paul wrote “Do you not know that if you PRESENT yourselves to anyone as obedient slaves, you are slaves to the one whom you obey?”

“If you PRESENT yourself to ANYONE as obedient slaves... you are SLAVES to the one whom you obey.”
But does to whom we present ourselves equal to whom we are obedient? I'm not so sure.
Can we present ourselves as slaves – giving our whole heart, mind, soul, and strength to God, but actually be slaves to, what Paul calls wickedness?

Now, we normally hear that we are servants of God. But Paul writes that we are slaves. Once you’re a slave to a master, you ARE a slave to that master. So once we are slaves to God, to righteousness, even though we may fall, we are still slaves to God. If we find ourselves as slaves to sin, we risk falling deep into temptations and lusts that leads us away from God – it can lead us to “wickedness.” And when we fall into wickedness, and when we act as, what Paul calls “instruments of wickedness” rather than “instruments of righteousness,” people suffer. We suffer, our relationships suffer, and people around the world, all of our brothers and sisters in all socio-political situations suffer.

But what does it mean to be “an instrument of righteousness” or to be “obedient to righteousness”? I'm not about to tell you that it has to mean giving up all the things you want - that that the driver I mentioned earlier doesn't have to give up the hummer, the latte, the cell phone AND the Jesus fish decal- but it does have to mean respecting God and respecting God's creation – which does sometimes mean giving up what we want.

But we are giving up what we want in exchange for what God wants for us – and what we are told results in righteousness, in sanctification or cleanliness, and results in life.

In the reading from Genesis, God asked Abraham to sacrifice his “only” son. To give him up to God. As the story was written, Abraham didn't think to say “no.” He didn't question, he just went ahead, after he had just banished his only other son, Ishmael, – he was ready to sacrifice this one with no question or thought of saying no.
Um.
I don't think this ever happened in the bible after that. Any reading about Moses or any of the prophets in the Hebrew Scriptures or even Jesus involves a lot questioning... and whining.

God knows we aren't always happy with choices we have to make in his service. He, like any parent, knows that we often don't like what we feel we have to do. And like the driver of that car, its often painfully clear how simple it would be to take the easy way out – the “I take Jesus as my personal Lord and Savior” okay now I'm done method. But as we know, the entire gospels of Matthew and Luke (beatitudes) tell us there's more.

But what is that more? Because there is so much that “more” can be – in word as well as in action.

A few weeks ago I attended a conference at Princeton University called Envision: Scripture, Politics, and the Future. It was aimed at Christians who want to make a positive difference in the world. There were multiple workshop tracks, and I attended the one on International Human Rights. This is a broad topic, so none of us knew what to expect.

It covered a variety of issues, but at one point the woman leading the workshop – an evangelical from Texas, was talking about some of her organization's work in a region of the Sudan (not Darfur).

As she was talking she spoke of how many bibles they had managed to get into the region. How they had gotten a copy of the film “The Jesus Story” in the regional language to a local pastor, as well as a computer on which to play it into the area, and how many new people had made professions of faith.

As we left the session, a Mennonite boy started ranting to me. He couldn't understand how this was so important. Why aren't we talking about how to stop organized rape, or how we can get food to people in North Korea? Why not about ending sex trafficking?” he said. I have to admit that I had many of these thoughts as well.

But as we talked, I had to wonder. Consider two missionaries: one is bringing the bible to people and bringing them to Christianity. Another missionary, also from a church group, is bringing food and teaching skills in an underdeveloped nation. This one, however, decided not to discuss the religion that was his impetus for the trip as to not offend or for fear of appearing to force it on those he was helping?

Who's the better Christian? The one bringing food and skills, or the one sharing a religion of hope?

I honestly don't have an answer. I leave that to you.

But I can tell you the second – the food and skills – would be a lot easier for me. I find talking about my faith to people I don't know absolutely terrifying. I would rather volunteer in a dangerous inner city or work on building projects. In speaking about Christ, there is a vulnerability – an opening for judgment. It’s so much easier to say “my faith is private.” That's so much safer. Speaking makes me so uncomfortable. But that's the point, isn't it?

Our faith isn't supposed to be comfortable. Our faith isn't supposed to be safe. It isn't supposed to be stagnant, static. It isn't always supposed to give us warm fuzzies. This is not to say that the warm fuzzies we will hopefully get in a few minutes when Geneva and Corbin are baptized aren't from God, but Christ didn't die in a painful, gruesome manner for warm fuzzies. In today's gospel Christ spoke of prophets, righteous men, and unvalued. These groups of people weren't “comfortable” they didn't have comfortable situations and yet the gospel spoke of the rewards that we receive from receiving them, and the rewards we receive when we receiving Christ.

Our faith can't be what we want – sitting around doing our thing.

Have could you better serve God? Have you ever spoken with a close friend about your faith? Have you ever tried to figure out what YOU actually believe? For most of us, it isn't EXACTLY what's in the back of the prayer book or in the creeds. Have you tried writing your worldview or your own theology or idea of what God IS down on paper. Really, set aside some time and actually write it down.  It may be surprisingly different from that which you think. And may lead you places that you didn't think it would take you. Even beginning to write it down can be a very uncomfortable thing to do... but our faith isn't supposed to be comfortable.

Have you done mission work? Built anything, far or locally? OR do you really hate being hot and sweaty. Do you think you might be called to volunteer for that sort of thing anyway? There are a wide variety of opportunities for all different skill sets and skill levels. 

A comfortable faith leads to stagnation and temptation, and away from Christ. But we are called to be Christians, to be slaves to Christ... even if its, hard, uncomfortable, or we're occasionally hypocritical, and at times, like the prophets - whiny. But unlike most forms of slavery, through the grace, mercy and never failing love of God, we will be given sanctification and eternal life. And I can't think of a more comforting thought or reality, than that.