In the past week or two, Pope Francis made the news for a couple of things he said in a personal interview. He said that the Roman Catholic Church has been too focused on “small-minded rules,” and then used words of grace when he spoke of people who are gay and lesbian. However, one of the things that made the biggest news was that he said, “I am a sinner.” Now, everybody knows the Pope is a sinner since everybody knows the Pope is a human being. The reason it was such big news was that it was so nice to hear it from someone in his position. He said, “I am a sinner,” because he was being humble. He was pulling back the curtain just a little and saying (in essence), “Behind all this pomp and circumstance I am a human being just like the rest of you.” As the worldwide leader of an embattled church body, it appears that Pope Francis is trying to cultivate what leadership expert Patrick Lencioni calls “vulnerability-based trust.” As far as what I can tell from my Catholic friends and family members, it seems to be working. So far it is even working for a Presbyterian like me who generally doesn’t pay all that much to what the Pope has to say (although I like this one so far). Sincerity and vulnerability can very often build bridges over troubled waters.
As I read the Pope’s comments this week, I was reminded of Brene Brown, who is a sociologist at the University of Houston and the world’s most renowned “vulnerability expert.” She is also a great speaker that you should look up on YouTube. She says, “Vulnerability is our most accurate measurement of courage.” You see, if you are invincible you do not need courage. It is when you know that you are vulnerable yet you march forward anyway that courage is needed. In my Protestant opinion, the Pope is showing courage through being honest about himself, and watching the Pope do so has made me feel that it might be okay for me to do the same.
After reading that interview, it got me thinking about some things I have wanted to say for all seven years I have served churches as a pastor, things I have been told by seminary professors and fellow pastors that a pastor should never say. I have been told, “Never ever tell your congregation what you’re really thinking. You have to keep that boundary there between pastor and congregation.” Yet, I am a person that absolutely has to be straight forward and authentic. Otherwise I feel like a charlatan. So although I’ve always been told not to do it, I’m going to follow the Pope’s lead and give a little peek behind the curtain. Because I love this congregation so much, I want to be honest with you about who I really am. Don’t worry; I’m not an escaped convict or a Russian spy. To me, vulnerability and authenticity are integral to having real relationships with other people. That’s what I want to have with you all.
Here it goes:
I want everyone to know that while I am a pastor, a pastor is not who I am. Sounds very Zen Buddhist doesn’t it, like “What is the sound of one hand clapping?” What I mean by that is that my vocation is that of a pastor but I personally do not like to be defined by that vocation. I have never really had the same relationship with the role of pastor that many of my colleagues seem to have. I don’t like being called Rev. Miller, especially when I am not working at the church. I know that I have to be listed that way in official church records, and if I’m in a robe or sitting in my leather chair and someone feels the need to call me Rev. Miller I guess that’s okay. But if someone sees me at Wendy’s and feels that need then I feel uncomfortable. The word “reverend” implies either that I am to be revered, which I most certainly am not (check out Matthew 23 about this), or that I am more reverent than others, which I most certainly am not. Because church-life is everyday-life for me, I am probably less reverent about a lot of things than everyone else is because they are more common place to me. Someday, many eons from now when I finally run out of my business cards, my next ones probably won’t say “Rev. Everett Miller.”
To tell you the truth, I don’t even like to be called Pastor Everett by other adults. I know that you have been trained for decades to use “Reverend” and “Pastor” as a title of respect, but I am different (not better or worse) than a lot of pastors. I do recognize, however, that it makes sense for the children of the church to have some way to address me as one of their elders. Perhaps more than even the use of Reverend or Pastor, I get an uncomfortable feeling in my stomach whenever someone—almost always a fellow pastor—uses the word “clergy” to refer to us pastors. To me, the word “clergy” has connotations of a privileged class of people, which is what clergy used to be. Clergy used to be the only people in town who were educated and could read. So whenever I hear a pastor speaking of the “clergy” getting together it makes me think this group of people might think they’re still the only ones in town who know how to read. In addition, the word “clergy” is nowhere in the Bible (and Jesus had tough words for the leaders of the people who relished being identified as leaders of the people), and it is nowhere in the Book of Confessions or the Book of Order.
Although I know people are just trying to be respectful, I prefer just to be introduced as Everett. If what I do for a living is pertinent to the introduction then you can follow that up with, “He is the pastor of First Presbyterian Church.” And please, if you and I are friends, don’t introduce me to someone as your pastor. Introduce me as your friend. It hurts to share a friendship with someone and then to be relegated to my office in the church when I’m being introduced by that friend. I am a pastor, but a pastor is not who I am. I am Everett Lee Miller II. My parents and siblings still call me by my childhood nickname, Buddy. I am a husband, a father, and a friend. I smell funny sometimes; I screw up sometimes; I doubt sometimes. I like reading, writing, hiking, baseball, college football, and zombie movies.
As I said, I have never really grown into the role of pastor the way I thought I would. Don’t get me wrong; I enjoy my work as a pastor. I enjoy getting to be a part of your lives. However, like I said earlier, unlike a lot of pastors I do not like being defined by my role in the church. Also, as a pastor I used to think that I had to try to please everyone in the congregation. What I have figured out over these past seven years, in three very different congregations, is that pleasing everyone is impossible. If I say something progressive I get the Evangelical folks mad at me. If I say something Evangelical I get the progressive folks mad at me. If I say something that won’t offend either group then I’m very often not saying much of import. So I decided fairly recently that I am done with trying to please everyone in our congregation or any congregation for that matter. I’m just going to be myself and tell the truth (as I see it) in as loving a manner as possible. If at any point the congregation grows too uncomfortable with that then it will be the congregation’s prerogative to deal with that in the way that will best benefit this church’s ministry. Over our years together, there is a pretty good chance that I am going to see things differently than a lot of folks. This may be because of my age or season in life, because of my own life experiences, because of the life experiences of my close friends and family members, because of my background in literature and creative writing, or because of the way I was educated and trained in seminary. I will say things you don’t like, but I am always open to setting up a time to have a loving dialogue with you about those things which may have upset you.
Something else I have always wanted to admit to a congregation is that there is a pretty good chance I will not be a pastor forever. That isn’t because I don’t enjoy being a pastor; I greatly enjoy being a pastor. It is because there are so many things in life I would like to do. When I was in the midst of the ordination process, I remember people saying, “If there is anything else in this world you could do, then you shouldn’t become a pastor. That’s how you know you’re called to be a pastor, when that’s the only thing that will fulfill you.” Over time I came to reject that statement, to see that it is incredibly binding, and to see that it shows a lack of trust in God. If you are truly in relationship with God, then whatever you do can be fulfilling. Honestly, I can think of a lot of other things I would enjoy doing. More than anything I would love to be a professional fiction writer. I’d love to be a travel writer. I’d love to teach religion or English at the college level. Even though it doesn’t pay much I’d even enjoy working at Barnes & Noble or a coffee shop. I could be happy as a National Park ranger. Does that mean I shouldn’t be a pastor? Whoever said that God’s call on a person to a particular ministry is forever? People change direction all the time.
After a conversation not too long ago about this same topic, a friend of mine wrote me these words: “God has created you - not a pastor. You may discover the gifts with which God has endowed you may be used as a pastor; regardless, God wants you to be you and continue to bless us with the joyous gift you are. God does not want you to ‘cram, stuff yourself’ into any human ‘box,’” including the box of being a pastor. Again, don’t get me wrong; I love being a pastor and more specifically I love being your pastor. But although I am a pastor, a pastor is not who I am.
I have a great dream or goal that I want to achieve in my life. It is not becoming a pastor of a large church or becoming an executive presbyter. Actually, it isn’t even church work. It is a dream that I have set aside two times in my life already. This dream is to earn a Master of Fine Arts in Creative Writing. The first time I put that dream on the shelf was to stick around town long enough to see if my relationship with the girl I was dating was serious—after twelve years of marriage and two kids I’m starting to think it might be serious! The second time I put that dream on the shelf was after I had taken two courses toward the degree (at night while still working fulltime as a pastor) when I decided it was more important for me to move to some place I’d never heard of called Washington Court House, Ohio to pastor a church that it seems God has meant for me to pastor during this shared season of our lives. I pray that somehow God will open a door (I’m even willing to crawl through a window or squeeze through the doggy door) for me to achieve that dream, and I don’t want to wait until retirement to do that. If there is a way for me to figure out how to be a pastor and an MFA student at the same time someday in the future then I’ll probably choose that option, but this is a dream that won’t go away. I believe I am being called to that just as much as I was called to be a pastor. To change up a quote from Chariots of Fire a little, when I write “I feel God’s pleasure.”
There’s your peek behind the curtain. You may have wished I would have kept the curtains drawn. My seminary professors and colleagues in the pastorate will think I’m crazy if they read this post. “You broke the code!” they will say. “Code Schmode!” I respond. As the commentator on the radio said today about Reds manager Dusty Baker, “He’s different than any other manager in the major leagues. He’s going to do things his own way even if everyone else tells him he’s doing it wrong.” That’s kind of the way I am. If I’m going to live in Christian fellowship with you as a church family, if I expect you all to be honest with me, and if I truly respect you all, then I have to tell the truth; I have to be vulnerable. I don’t know any other way. I can only be who I am. I’ll promise to love you and serve you as you are, and my hope is that you are open to doing the same for me.
I am thankful each and every day that you allow me to serve as your pastor, and I pray for many more.
Grace and Peace,
Everett
Tuesday, September 24, 2013
Sunday, September 15, 2013
From the Cutting Room Floor
Very often I will be left with a decent amount of material that had to be cut out of a sermon because of time considerations. While conservative Evangelical pastors usually get about 45 minutes for a sermon, we mainliners start to hear grumbles if we go over 20 minutes. So, since that sermon series is over, here are the leftovers that were cut from the September 15 sermon, "What is the Discerning Christian Thing to Do? Part 4." I offer them without any further commentary on them.
***
The first thing we have to know is that the New Testament cannot exist without the Old Testament. To study the New Testament without knowing the Old Testament is like trying to play a game of baseball with only home plate. Home plate is extremely important; it is, in fact, the most important base. However, it is only important because it is the fulfillment of the journey from first, second, and third bases. For Christians, first, second, and third base are the Old Testament. Home plate is the New Testament. Our Jewish neighbors would, understandably, disagree.
***
Even the gospels seem to tell the story of Jesus’ ministry, death, and resurrection in ways that emphasize and address the particular concerns of the particular congregation that produced that gospel and that utilized it first before it was ever shared with other congregations. Many of us probably have some sort of idea that the gospels were written by some holy person sitting on top of a mountain receiving dictation from God in heaven. That doesn’t seem to be how they actually came to be. While as Christians we certainly believe that through the Holy Spirit God not only inspired the original authorship but that God also meets us in the Scriptures to guide us this very day, it seems that the way the gospels came about was something much more organically human than what we probably imagine. Like the old saying goes: “Necessity is the mother of invention.” Well, in this case, necessity was the mother of biblical authorship. The early Christian communities needed ways to be guided in the ways of Jesus Christ. They needed it put on paper because the apostles were dying off, as were all those who had personal memories of Jesus. Plus, they were going through some very difficult times and they needed encouragement, not just a pat on the back but encouragement from their Lord himself.
***
Catholic historian Gary Wills in his book What the Gospels Meant, writes, “Mark’s Gospel was written in, with, and for a particular community.” The same is true for the other three gospels. There are times in the gospels in which it is almost like Jesus is turning to the originally intended readers, which would be the community that produced the gospel, and speaking directly to them about something that is going on in their own congregation at that moment, answering questions that they in particular have been asking. The 13th chapter of Mark seems to be like this, as does Matthew 24, as does the 21st chapter of John, and numerous other passages.
***
Although it may make us feel uneasy, in the gospels, when Jesus speaks of “my brothers” he is talking only about his disciples. When Paul writes about brothers and sisters, he is talking only about his fellow Christians. In John’s gospel, and especially in his three letters, when John says brothers and sisters he is only talking about his fellow Christians too, and in John’s case he may even be talking about only those Christians who are in his congregation. In the Presbyterian Church (USA), the letter of James is one of our favorite documents in the New Testament because of its emphasis on faith being accompanied by action, especially action on behalf of the poor. However, James’s letter isn’t about how Christians should treat just anyone. When you read it closely you see that James’ letter is about how Christians, especially Christians within a particular gathering, are to treat one another. He isn’t dealing with how any rich people treat any poor people. An honest reading of the letter makes it obvious that he’s concerned about how the rich Christians in his congregations are treating the poor Christians in his congregations. The rich Christians are being favored over the poor Christians. Even the most famous passage in all of James is often used out of context, especially by us Presbyterians. It reads, “What good is it, my brothers and sisters, if someone claims to have faith but has no deeds? Can such faith save them? Suppose a brother or a sister is without clothes and daily food. If one of you says to them, “Go in peace; keep warm and well fed,” but does nothing about their physical needs, what good is it? In the same way, faith by itself, if it is not accompanied by action, is dead.” All you have to do is read the letter of James to see that he is talking about what members of his congregation should do for one another. Again, any time brothers and sisters is used in the New Testament to refer to anyone but a biological sibling, it refers to fellow Christians.
***
With all of this in mind, I take us back to my original point, which is that almost every document in the New Testament seems to be concerned with how members of a particular congregation interact with members of that same particular congregation, and only sometimes is it concerned with how they interact with those outside that particular congregation. Although it would be very helpful for us to know 2,000 years later, the New Testament says very, very little about how Christians should interact with non-Christians and just about as little about how Christians from one congregation should interact with Christians from another congregation. Back then, in most cities it seems there was just one congregation and the distances were so vast and travel so hard that only a handful of Christian travelers would ever interact with Christians from a different congregation. The Ephesian congregation and the Corinthian congregation were not getting together for a Thanksgiving service with dessert afterwards. They were 240 miles apart. A world in which there might be thirty or forty congregations in one town of only 15,000 people, churches of different denominations with very different ways of being Christian, would be a completely foreign concept to the authors of the New Testament. When first century Christians read Jesus’ prayer in John’s gospel in which he prays for his disciples to have unity with one another, they were not thinking of Catholics and Baptists. They were likely thinking of life within their own congregation or at most between the followers of different apostles.
***
In modern Western societies we have come to speak of the brotherhood and sisterhood of the human family and we have come to refer to every single person on the earth as a child of God. We say, “We are all children of God. All people are our brothers and sisters.” I like this kind of talk because it is helpful to peace between peoples, but this way of talking does not come from the New Testament, although it may have evolved from what the New Testament says. The Scriptures do tell us that every single person was created by God in God’s image, that God cares for every single person, and that, to a certain extent, we are to care for every person too. However, this is not the way the Bible, especially the New Testament, uses the phrases “children of God” and “brothers and sisters.” John 1:12 is a great example. It reads, “To all who believed [Christ] and accepted him, he gave the right to become children of God.” The New Testament works out of the theological assumption that through Christ we have been adopted as a child of God, as a member of God’s family. The Presbyterian (Reformed) understanding of baptism flows from this biblical understanding. When we put our faith in Jesus Christ, we claim our place as a child of God (what often happens in confirmation), and with Christ himself as the eldest brother (a status that was much more important back then than it is now because of inheritance laws and customs) all who have claimed their place as a child of God through faith in Jesus Christ are now brothers and sisters with one another (this is why we call it a church family). While we are called to love all of our neighbors, even our enemies, we also need to be informed enough about the Bible to understand what the Bible is actually saying, instead of what we wish the Bible said. The New Testament is saying something very profound about the Church that the Bible does not seem to be saying about the rest of humanity--we are family and we have even more responsibilities for one another than we have for others. Again, this is not being judgmental or exclusive; this is being biblical and it is being family.
***
Paul writes things like this: “The night is nearly over; the day is almost here. So let us put aside the deeds of darkness and put on the armor of light” and “What I mean, brothers and sisters, is that the time is short. From now on those who have wives should live as if they do not.” You only write those things if you think that Jesus is coming back immediately.
***
1 Thessalonians, which is believed by some to be the oldest Christian document that we have access to, is a letter that Paul writes to the little congregation in Thessalonica in response to their concern that they were told that Jesus was returning any day now, yet this has not happened and even worse than that, people have started to die (of natural causes), which has them worried that these people who have died will miss out on the second coming and the salvation that will accompany it for those who have put their trust in Jesus. Here is pretty convincing proof that Paul thought Jesus was coming back very soon: "For this we declare to you by the word of the Lord, that we who are alive, who are left until the coming of the Lord, will by no means precede those who have died. For the Lord himself, with a cry of command, with the archangel's call and with the sound of God's trumpet, will descend from heaven, and the dead in Christ will rise first. Then we who are alive, who are left, will be caught up in the clouds together with them to meet the Lord in the air; and so we will be with the Lord forever. Therefore encourage one another with these words." (1 Thessalonians 4:15-18). Paul expected Jesus to return during the lifetime of the congregation members and wanted the Thessalonians to comfort one another by reminding one another of that expectation.
***
If you still don't believe me that the earliest Christians were convinced that the world was ending, read 1 John 2:18, "Dear children, this is the last hour; and as you have heard that the antichrist is coming, even now many antichrists have come. This is how we know it is the last hour." Convinced yet?
***
Judging by the fact that about a quarter of you fell asleep during the sermon this past Sunday, it appears that my sermon was certainly long enough. So aren't you glad I cut all this out? If I hadn't, we'd still be there. Hey, it could be worse. It could be like at the Native American PC(USA) churches I served during my seminary internship. I'd finish preaching and then one of the elders would stand up and say, "Thank you, Everett, for the sermon. Who else has a sermon to preach this morning?" Usually one or two or sometimes three other people would preach long rambling impromptu sermons, which caused services to go into the 2-3 hour range. So just remember, it could be worse!
***
The first thing we have to know is that the New Testament cannot exist without the Old Testament. To study the New Testament without knowing the Old Testament is like trying to play a game of baseball with only home plate. Home plate is extremely important; it is, in fact, the most important base. However, it is only important because it is the fulfillment of the journey from first, second, and third bases. For Christians, first, second, and third base are the Old Testament. Home plate is the New Testament. Our Jewish neighbors would, understandably, disagree.
***
Even the gospels seem to tell the story of Jesus’ ministry, death, and resurrection in ways that emphasize and address the particular concerns of the particular congregation that produced that gospel and that utilized it first before it was ever shared with other congregations. Many of us probably have some sort of idea that the gospels were written by some holy person sitting on top of a mountain receiving dictation from God in heaven. That doesn’t seem to be how they actually came to be. While as Christians we certainly believe that through the Holy Spirit God not only inspired the original authorship but that God also meets us in the Scriptures to guide us this very day, it seems that the way the gospels came about was something much more organically human than what we probably imagine. Like the old saying goes: “Necessity is the mother of invention.” Well, in this case, necessity was the mother of biblical authorship. The early Christian communities needed ways to be guided in the ways of Jesus Christ. They needed it put on paper because the apostles were dying off, as were all those who had personal memories of Jesus. Plus, they were going through some very difficult times and they needed encouragement, not just a pat on the back but encouragement from their Lord himself.
***
Catholic historian Gary Wills in his book What the Gospels Meant, writes, “Mark’s Gospel was written in, with, and for a particular community.” The same is true for the other three gospels. There are times in the gospels in which it is almost like Jesus is turning to the originally intended readers, which would be the community that produced the gospel, and speaking directly to them about something that is going on in their own congregation at that moment, answering questions that they in particular have been asking. The 13th chapter of Mark seems to be like this, as does Matthew 24, as does the 21st chapter of John, and numerous other passages.
***
Although it may make us feel uneasy, in the gospels, when Jesus speaks of “my brothers” he is talking only about his disciples. When Paul writes about brothers and sisters, he is talking only about his fellow Christians. In John’s gospel, and especially in his three letters, when John says brothers and sisters he is only talking about his fellow Christians too, and in John’s case he may even be talking about only those Christians who are in his congregation. In the Presbyterian Church (USA), the letter of James is one of our favorite documents in the New Testament because of its emphasis on faith being accompanied by action, especially action on behalf of the poor. However, James’s letter isn’t about how Christians should treat just anyone. When you read it closely you see that James’ letter is about how Christians, especially Christians within a particular gathering, are to treat one another. He isn’t dealing with how any rich people treat any poor people. An honest reading of the letter makes it obvious that he’s concerned about how the rich Christians in his congregations are treating the poor Christians in his congregations. The rich Christians are being favored over the poor Christians. Even the most famous passage in all of James is often used out of context, especially by us Presbyterians. It reads, “What good is it, my brothers and sisters, if someone claims to have faith but has no deeds? Can such faith save them? Suppose a brother or a sister is without clothes and daily food. If one of you says to them, “Go in peace; keep warm and well fed,” but does nothing about their physical needs, what good is it? In the same way, faith by itself, if it is not accompanied by action, is dead.” All you have to do is read the letter of James to see that he is talking about what members of his congregation should do for one another. Again, any time brothers and sisters is used in the New Testament to refer to anyone but a biological sibling, it refers to fellow Christians.
***
With all of this in mind, I take us back to my original point, which is that almost every document in the New Testament seems to be concerned with how members of a particular congregation interact with members of that same particular congregation, and only sometimes is it concerned with how they interact with those outside that particular congregation. Although it would be very helpful for us to know 2,000 years later, the New Testament says very, very little about how Christians should interact with non-Christians and just about as little about how Christians from one congregation should interact with Christians from another congregation. Back then, in most cities it seems there was just one congregation and the distances were so vast and travel so hard that only a handful of Christian travelers would ever interact with Christians from a different congregation. The Ephesian congregation and the Corinthian congregation were not getting together for a Thanksgiving service with dessert afterwards. They were 240 miles apart. A world in which there might be thirty or forty congregations in one town of only 15,000 people, churches of different denominations with very different ways of being Christian, would be a completely foreign concept to the authors of the New Testament. When first century Christians read Jesus’ prayer in John’s gospel in which he prays for his disciples to have unity with one another, they were not thinking of Catholics and Baptists. They were likely thinking of life within their own congregation or at most between the followers of different apostles.
***
In modern Western societies we have come to speak of the brotherhood and sisterhood of the human family and we have come to refer to every single person on the earth as a child of God. We say, “We are all children of God. All people are our brothers and sisters.” I like this kind of talk because it is helpful to peace between peoples, but this way of talking does not come from the New Testament, although it may have evolved from what the New Testament says. The Scriptures do tell us that every single person was created by God in God’s image, that God cares for every single person, and that, to a certain extent, we are to care for every person too. However, this is not the way the Bible, especially the New Testament, uses the phrases “children of God” and “brothers and sisters.” John 1:12 is a great example. It reads, “To all who believed [Christ] and accepted him, he gave the right to become children of God.” The New Testament works out of the theological assumption that through Christ we have been adopted as a child of God, as a member of God’s family. The Presbyterian (Reformed) understanding of baptism flows from this biblical understanding. When we put our faith in Jesus Christ, we claim our place as a child of God (what often happens in confirmation), and with Christ himself as the eldest brother (a status that was much more important back then than it is now because of inheritance laws and customs) all who have claimed their place as a child of God through faith in Jesus Christ are now brothers and sisters with one another (this is why we call it a church family). While we are called to love all of our neighbors, even our enemies, we also need to be informed enough about the Bible to understand what the Bible is actually saying, instead of what we wish the Bible said. The New Testament is saying something very profound about the Church that the Bible does not seem to be saying about the rest of humanity--we are family and we have even more responsibilities for one another than we have for others. Again, this is not being judgmental or exclusive; this is being biblical and it is being family.
***
Paul writes things like this: “The night is nearly over; the day is almost here. So let us put aside the deeds of darkness and put on the armor of light” and “What I mean, brothers and sisters, is that the time is short. From now on those who have wives should live as if they do not.” You only write those things if you think that Jesus is coming back immediately.
***
1 Thessalonians, which is believed by some to be the oldest Christian document that we have access to, is a letter that Paul writes to the little congregation in Thessalonica in response to their concern that they were told that Jesus was returning any day now, yet this has not happened and even worse than that, people have started to die (of natural causes), which has them worried that these people who have died will miss out on the second coming and the salvation that will accompany it for those who have put their trust in Jesus. Here is pretty convincing proof that Paul thought Jesus was coming back very soon: "For this we declare to you by the word of the Lord, that we who are alive, who are left until the coming of the Lord, will by no means precede those who have died. For the Lord himself, with a cry of command, with the archangel's call and with the sound of God's trumpet, will descend from heaven, and the dead in Christ will rise first. Then we who are alive, who are left, will be caught up in the clouds together with them to meet the Lord in the air; and so we will be with the Lord forever. Therefore encourage one another with these words." (1 Thessalonians 4:15-18). Paul expected Jesus to return during the lifetime of the congregation members and wanted the Thessalonians to comfort one another by reminding one another of that expectation.
***
If you still don't believe me that the earliest Christians were convinced that the world was ending, read 1 John 2:18, "Dear children, this is the last hour; and as you have heard that the antichrist is coming, even now many antichrists have come. This is how we know it is the last hour." Convinced yet?
***
Judging by the fact that about a quarter of you fell asleep during the sermon this past Sunday, it appears that my sermon was certainly long enough. So aren't you glad I cut all this out? If I hadn't, we'd still be there. Hey, it could be worse. It could be like at the Native American PC(USA) churches I served during my seminary internship. I'd finish preaching and then one of the elders would stand up and say, "Thank you, Everett, for the sermon. Who else has a sermon to preach this morning?" Usually one or two or sometimes three other people would preach long rambling impromptu sermons, which caused services to go into the 2-3 hour range. So just remember, it could be worse!
Tuesday, September 10, 2013
Up in Smoke
In my sermon from August 25, which ended up sparking a four week sermon series called “What is the discerning Christian thing to do?,” I mentioned that about five people per week ask me for money. Folks come to the office to ask for money and to our house to ask for money. This means that more than 200 of my neighbors per year say to me, “Pastor, could you help me out with some money for gas… for my bills… for a hotel?” Before moving to Washington Court House, Ohio, I’ve never been in a situation where I have been asked for money so often. Even when I lived near downtown Austin, Texas (one of the meccas of the transient homeless population) I was not asked for money as much as I am here. I used to think that if someone asked me for money, that as a disciple of Jesus Christ I am obligated to give them what they have asked for, at least within my own abilities to give. I used to say, “Who am I to judge?” But then I moved here and took this pastoral position and the 200 requests per year forced me to ask the question in a different way. I changed from, “What is the Christian thing to do?” by which I meant “What is the nonjudgmental thing to do?” to what I ask myself now, “What is the discerning Christian thing to do?” I now ask questions of folks and set certain policies for myself. I ask, “What is your own family doing to help you?” and “What church do you belong to and what is your church doing to help you?” Also, through my own personal process of discernment I have decided not to give money to anyone who spends money on cigarettes.
Here is what I said in my August 25 sermon:
To tell you the truth, I have never lived in a place where smoking is as visually prevalent as it is in Washington Court House, Ohio. As soon as we moved here one of the first things that Danielle and I noticed was how many people smoke here. We are from Oklahoma, the land of the tribal tax-free tobacco shops and one of the states with the highest numbers of smokers in the nation, but still we’d never seen anything like the prevalence of smoking that we noticed immediately in our new home. As Wyatt has gotten older he has begun to ask that tough question, “If smoking is bad then why does everyone seem to be doing it? Are they bad people?” Our answer to Wyatt is, “They are not bad people, but they are making a bad choice. Those parents love their kids but they are setting a bad example for their kids.” Then we tell him about how smoking causes cancer (he knows what cancer is from all the funerals I’ve done), heart disease, and COPD. We tell him about how it makes you smell bad and about how much money people waste on cigarettes. He always follows that up with another question: “Then why do so many people do it?” I’m not sure he’s old enough to understand all the reasons and I’m not sure that I do, so I usually just shrug my shoulders.
The reason smoking has come up at all around here is that almost everyone who asks me for money is either smoking a cigarette or smells like cigarettes and because a large number of our neighbors in need who stand and sit in front of the church building or in the alley waiting for the food pantry or produce distribution to open are smoking cigarettes. A couple of weeks ago, Larry picked up over sixty cigarette butts in our church flower beds, most of which had been thrown into the flowers that had been planted for us by the Girl Scouts and Brownies. On Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, when I leave the church building to go home for lunch I have to walk through the gauntlet of cigarette smoke and the alley and even the manse flowerbeds have been littered with cigarette butts. As we started to look into posting “No Smoking” signs, we found out that there is actually a state law that prohibits smoking anywhere near the doors or windows of buildings utilized by the public, and that protects the rights of property owners to ban smoking anywhere on their property, whether it is by a door or not. We were actually breaking the law by not having no smoking signs. So we posted signs and most folks respected the signs, but someone who came by on Friday during produce distribution (I was out of town) said that the smokers all congregated in front of the manse. We will now have to post no smoking signs at the manse as well.
I really don’t like smoking. I grew up in a smoking household. Although a couple of decades later my dad quit, he smoked two packs a day during my childhood, and my mom smoked too. They smoked in the house and we had full ashtrays around the house. I think I remember one of my sisters making an ashtray for my dad as a craft in school. We were the kind of kids who showed up at school with clothes that smell like an ashtray. They smoked in the car too. I remember my dad’s smoke breath, the empty cartons around the house, and my embarrassment when I’d come out of Sunday school and he’d be standing outside the church smoking. I also remember stealing some of those cigarettes and smoking them myself when I was ten or so. But thankfully my mom quit, and after my parents got divorced and my dad remarried my stepmom eventually nipped it in the bud and forced him outside to smoke because she was tired of our house smelling like a back alley bar. Then eventually the tobacco taxes got through to my dad what the Surgeon General and his family couldn’t—smoking costs too much to be worth it. I am so proud of my dad for quitting smoking after thirty years or more of doing it. He hasn't had a cigarette in probably fifteen years or so. I also don't like smoking because my grandpa died of lung cancer that spread up to his brain. This was caused by smoking.
When I was in college, my friends and I often smoked when we went out to bars or were at parties. It always seemed like a good idea at 1 am in the morning, but we’d wake up stinking and hacking up gross stuff out of our lungs. This continued on for a little while after college and after I got married. Danielle wouldn’t let me sleep in bed if I’d been smoking, though. Eventually, most of my friends and I quit. Those of us who quit were not addicted; it was just a habit. One friend was addicted and I think he still smokes over a decade later. Most of the time when I smell cigarette smoke now it makes me nauseous. Occasionally it gives me a bit of what recovering alcoholics call “euphoric recall,” which means it takes me back to the fun times that involved a cigarette but it doesn’t bring to mind all the negatives. All of that is to say that I know what it’s like to be the child of smokers and I know what it is like to smoke, but I do not know what it is like to be addicted to nicotine.
At this point I could bring up 1 Corinthians 6:19-20, where the Apostle Paul writes, “Do you not know that your bodies are temples of the Holy Spirit, who is in you, whom you have received from God? You are not your own; you were bought at a price. Therefore honor God with your bodies.” Granted, Paul is not writing about cigarette smoking; he is writing about sex outside of marriage. However, the principle certainly carries over—we are to honor God with our bodies. Here is where the own log in my eye shows up. Do I honor God whenever I eat a Whopper with cheese and fries? Do I honor God when I occasionally stop off at Tony’s Coneys on Highway 62 for a small chocolate malt? Does it honor God that I’m carrying 25 extra pounds around that are completely the result of my diet? Does it honor God that I ate so much refined flour and refined sugar over the years that I ended up in the emergency room thinking I was having a heart attack only to find out that I have reactive hypoglycemia, which was caused not by some terrible stroke of bad genetic luck but by too much macaroni & cheese and brownies? Probably not.
My enjoyment of saturated fats and refined sugars are probably not glorifying to God. However, it should also be noted that I don’t throw my wrappers in people’s flower gardens and my drinking a malt doesn’t fill up everyone else’s body around me with saturated fat and refined sugars. People don’t have to walk through a cloud of my cheeseburger grease. Also, I’m not asking for assistance and my health insurance is not publically funded. However, my diet is the log in my eye; smoking is the speck in others. Therefore I cannot condemn people for it, and I should be merciful in my judgments until I have dealt with the fatty, sugary log in my own eye. But that doesn’t mean that I cannot use someone’s smoking addiction/habit as a factor in my discernment of whether or not I should give them money.
When it comes to smoking, I am a libertarian. If you want to smoke and that smoking in no way infringes upon the rights of anyone else, then go for it. Whether or not this is a glorification of God with your body is between you and God. But how often does smoking not affect someone else? If you smoke all by yourself, have more than enough money for cigarettes, pay for your own health insurance through your job, pay all your bills and take care of everyone within your spheres of responsibility, and no one will miss you if you die of lung or throat cancer or heart disease, then by all means smoke ‘em if you’ve got ‘em. But I’m still not going to give you money if you approach me and tell me you can’t pay your bills. If you feel this is judgmental and unbecoming of a Christian, especially a Christian pastor, then you and I have a very different view of what being judgmental means. You can tell me that the money you spend on your cigarettes would not even scratch the surface of your financial needs. You can tell me that smoking is the one luxury you can afford (which isn’t true. Cable TV is cheaper than smoking, as is ice cream, joining the YMCA, reading, hiking, vacations to nearby attractions), that it doesn’t affect others (it almost certainly does, especially if you are on Medicaid or Medicare), and that I don’t understand your addiction (which I don’t, but I know folks who have quit who do), but I’m still not going to give you money.
Someone who smokes is my neighbor. If a Samaritan could be a Jew’s neighbor, then a smoker can most certainly be my neighbor. I am to love my neighbor, which I strive to do (although sometimes I fail and fall into sin). As a smoker’s loving neighbor I will help him in a life threatening situation like the Good Samaritan did for the beaten man on the road to Jericho. Mercy in that kind of situation knows no divisions. But I’m not paying his bills for him. If his kids are hungry, send them over and I’ll feed them dinner. If he wants to quit, tell me and I’ll help him figure out the most effective way to do that (which would be a marvelous mission for our church). But I’m not going to accept from him this load of dung that smoking is some part of an oppressive injustice against the poor and uneducated. Granted, those with no high school diploma and no college degree smoke at much higher rates than those who have been to college and tobacco companies certainly target the poor and uneducated because they know that is where they make their money, but while cigarettes may be holding you down, it isn’t from the weight of someone else’s boot on your neck. No one is sticking cigarettes in anyone else’s mouth, just as no one is stuffing cheeseburgers in mine.
Again, I used to feel that this kind of talk was judgmental. But now I have a family to take care of, now I’m getting more than 200 requests a year for money, now I am tired of walking through clouds of smoke on the church stairs, now I am tired of seeing the Girl Scouts’ flowers covered with cigarette butts, now I am tired of seeing people smoke in their cars with their kids in there with them, and now I am going to start being discerning even if other people feel it is judgmental. All the while I will pray to God to guard my heart from judgmentalism. Mercy is truly greater than condemnation. That’s why I need to avoid condemnation while I am practicing discernment. This is true for all of us.
May you have a blessed week. Please remember to pray for the people of Syria, and for our national and international leaders. May peace break out in our world for a change!
Grace and Peace,
Pastor Everett
Here is what I said in my August 25 sermon:
Here’s another one: “I will not give money to someone who spends money on cigarettes, and we should post no smoking signs outside the church.” That may seem judgmental to some folks, especially to those who are spending the money on cigarettes and smoking near church entrances, but it’s really discerning. The no smoking signs are actually the law of the state of Ohio. We as a church are violating state law as well as the rights of every person who walks in and out of our doors, especially the rights of our employees and volunteers who work here all day. We are subject to fines if we do not begin to comply with state law. Also, cigarettes are expensive to buy which spends money that could be used for food and bills, cigarettes cost the tax payers billions of dollars a year to treat smoking related illnesses for those on Medicaid, and cigarette butts account for more litter in the United States than any other category of garbage. Personally, I have discerned that I’m done giving money to anyone who smokes because of those reasons. But what about this statement: “Smokers are bad people.” That is judgmental and it is categorically untrue. Some of the absolute best people I know in the world are smokers. Some of the people I love the most and who have been the kindest to me over the years are smokers. I’m just not going to help them pay their bills or buy groceries until they quit spending money on cigarettes, money that should be spent on bills and groceries. Why should they get to spend money on cigarettes and then expect me to spend my money on their bills?
To tell you the truth, I have never lived in a place where smoking is as visually prevalent as it is in Washington Court House, Ohio. As soon as we moved here one of the first things that Danielle and I noticed was how many people smoke here. We are from Oklahoma, the land of the tribal tax-free tobacco shops and one of the states with the highest numbers of smokers in the nation, but still we’d never seen anything like the prevalence of smoking that we noticed immediately in our new home. As Wyatt has gotten older he has begun to ask that tough question, “If smoking is bad then why does everyone seem to be doing it? Are they bad people?” Our answer to Wyatt is, “They are not bad people, but they are making a bad choice. Those parents love their kids but they are setting a bad example for their kids.” Then we tell him about how smoking causes cancer (he knows what cancer is from all the funerals I’ve done), heart disease, and COPD. We tell him about how it makes you smell bad and about how much money people waste on cigarettes. He always follows that up with another question: “Then why do so many people do it?” I’m not sure he’s old enough to understand all the reasons and I’m not sure that I do, so I usually just shrug my shoulders.
The reason smoking has come up at all around here is that almost everyone who asks me for money is either smoking a cigarette or smells like cigarettes and because a large number of our neighbors in need who stand and sit in front of the church building or in the alley waiting for the food pantry or produce distribution to open are smoking cigarettes. A couple of weeks ago, Larry picked up over sixty cigarette butts in our church flower beds, most of which had been thrown into the flowers that had been planted for us by the Girl Scouts and Brownies. On Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, when I leave the church building to go home for lunch I have to walk through the gauntlet of cigarette smoke and the alley and even the manse flowerbeds have been littered with cigarette butts. As we started to look into posting “No Smoking” signs, we found out that there is actually a state law that prohibits smoking anywhere near the doors or windows of buildings utilized by the public, and that protects the rights of property owners to ban smoking anywhere on their property, whether it is by a door or not. We were actually breaking the law by not having no smoking signs. So we posted signs and most folks respected the signs, but someone who came by on Friday during produce distribution (I was out of town) said that the smokers all congregated in front of the manse. We will now have to post no smoking signs at the manse as well.
I really don’t like smoking. I grew up in a smoking household. Although a couple of decades later my dad quit, he smoked two packs a day during my childhood, and my mom smoked too. They smoked in the house and we had full ashtrays around the house. I think I remember one of my sisters making an ashtray for my dad as a craft in school. We were the kind of kids who showed up at school with clothes that smell like an ashtray. They smoked in the car too. I remember my dad’s smoke breath, the empty cartons around the house, and my embarrassment when I’d come out of Sunday school and he’d be standing outside the church smoking. I also remember stealing some of those cigarettes and smoking them myself when I was ten or so. But thankfully my mom quit, and after my parents got divorced and my dad remarried my stepmom eventually nipped it in the bud and forced him outside to smoke because she was tired of our house smelling like a back alley bar. Then eventually the tobacco taxes got through to my dad what the Surgeon General and his family couldn’t—smoking costs too much to be worth it. I am so proud of my dad for quitting smoking after thirty years or more of doing it. He hasn't had a cigarette in probably fifteen years or so. I also don't like smoking because my grandpa died of lung cancer that spread up to his brain. This was caused by smoking.
When I was in college, my friends and I often smoked when we went out to bars or were at parties. It always seemed like a good idea at 1 am in the morning, but we’d wake up stinking and hacking up gross stuff out of our lungs. This continued on for a little while after college and after I got married. Danielle wouldn’t let me sleep in bed if I’d been smoking, though. Eventually, most of my friends and I quit. Those of us who quit were not addicted; it was just a habit. One friend was addicted and I think he still smokes over a decade later. Most of the time when I smell cigarette smoke now it makes me nauseous. Occasionally it gives me a bit of what recovering alcoholics call “euphoric recall,” which means it takes me back to the fun times that involved a cigarette but it doesn’t bring to mind all the negatives. All of that is to say that I know what it’s like to be the child of smokers and I know what it is like to smoke, but I do not know what it is like to be addicted to nicotine.
At this point I could bring up 1 Corinthians 6:19-20, where the Apostle Paul writes, “Do you not know that your bodies are temples of the Holy Spirit, who is in you, whom you have received from God? You are not your own; you were bought at a price. Therefore honor God with your bodies.” Granted, Paul is not writing about cigarette smoking; he is writing about sex outside of marriage. However, the principle certainly carries over—we are to honor God with our bodies. Here is where the own log in my eye shows up. Do I honor God whenever I eat a Whopper with cheese and fries? Do I honor God when I occasionally stop off at Tony’s Coneys on Highway 62 for a small chocolate malt? Does it honor God that I’m carrying 25 extra pounds around that are completely the result of my diet? Does it honor God that I ate so much refined flour and refined sugar over the years that I ended up in the emergency room thinking I was having a heart attack only to find out that I have reactive hypoglycemia, which was caused not by some terrible stroke of bad genetic luck but by too much macaroni & cheese and brownies? Probably not.
My enjoyment of saturated fats and refined sugars are probably not glorifying to God. However, it should also be noted that I don’t throw my wrappers in people’s flower gardens and my drinking a malt doesn’t fill up everyone else’s body around me with saturated fat and refined sugars. People don’t have to walk through a cloud of my cheeseburger grease. Also, I’m not asking for assistance and my health insurance is not publically funded. However, my diet is the log in my eye; smoking is the speck in others. Therefore I cannot condemn people for it, and I should be merciful in my judgments until I have dealt with the fatty, sugary log in my own eye. But that doesn’t mean that I cannot use someone’s smoking addiction/habit as a factor in my discernment of whether or not I should give them money.
When it comes to smoking, I am a libertarian. If you want to smoke and that smoking in no way infringes upon the rights of anyone else, then go for it. Whether or not this is a glorification of God with your body is between you and God. But how often does smoking not affect someone else? If you smoke all by yourself, have more than enough money for cigarettes, pay for your own health insurance through your job, pay all your bills and take care of everyone within your spheres of responsibility, and no one will miss you if you die of lung or throat cancer or heart disease, then by all means smoke ‘em if you’ve got ‘em. But I’m still not going to give you money if you approach me and tell me you can’t pay your bills. If you feel this is judgmental and unbecoming of a Christian, especially a Christian pastor, then you and I have a very different view of what being judgmental means. You can tell me that the money you spend on your cigarettes would not even scratch the surface of your financial needs. You can tell me that smoking is the one luxury you can afford (which isn’t true. Cable TV is cheaper than smoking, as is ice cream, joining the YMCA, reading, hiking, vacations to nearby attractions), that it doesn’t affect others (it almost certainly does, especially if you are on Medicaid or Medicare), and that I don’t understand your addiction (which I don’t, but I know folks who have quit who do), but I’m still not going to give you money.
Someone who smokes is my neighbor. If a Samaritan could be a Jew’s neighbor, then a smoker can most certainly be my neighbor. I am to love my neighbor, which I strive to do (although sometimes I fail and fall into sin). As a smoker’s loving neighbor I will help him in a life threatening situation like the Good Samaritan did for the beaten man on the road to Jericho. Mercy in that kind of situation knows no divisions. But I’m not paying his bills for him. If his kids are hungry, send them over and I’ll feed them dinner. If he wants to quit, tell me and I’ll help him figure out the most effective way to do that (which would be a marvelous mission for our church). But I’m not going to accept from him this load of dung that smoking is some part of an oppressive injustice against the poor and uneducated. Granted, those with no high school diploma and no college degree smoke at much higher rates than those who have been to college and tobacco companies certainly target the poor and uneducated because they know that is where they make their money, but while cigarettes may be holding you down, it isn’t from the weight of someone else’s boot on your neck. No one is sticking cigarettes in anyone else’s mouth, just as no one is stuffing cheeseburgers in mine.
Again, I used to feel that this kind of talk was judgmental. But now I have a family to take care of, now I’m getting more than 200 requests a year for money, now I am tired of walking through clouds of smoke on the church stairs, now I am tired of seeing the Girl Scouts’ flowers covered with cigarette butts, now I am tired of seeing people smoke in their cars with their kids in there with them, and now I am going to start being discerning even if other people feel it is judgmental. All the while I will pray to God to guard my heart from judgmentalism. Mercy is truly greater than condemnation. That’s why I need to avoid condemnation while I am practicing discernment. This is true for all of us.
May you have a blessed week. Please remember to pray for the people of Syria, and for our national and international leaders. May peace break out in our world for a change!
Grace and Peace,
Pastor Everett
Sunday, September 1, 2013
Dance Then Wherever You May Be
I am not a dancer. Danielle can vouch for that. Not only am I not a dancer, but I used to have absolutely no interest in dance whatsoever. Several summers ago when Danielle starting watching a new show on Fox called “So You Think You Can Dance?” I thought it was the dumbest name for a show I’d ever heard and it looked like a dance version of American Idol. She watched that first season alone. The next summer, however, I sat down with her once while she was watching. “If this is what I have to do to be with my wife, this is what I’ll do,” I thought, “even if it does mean watching this dumb show.” However, as I sat there with her I was pulled in by the way that dance can tell a story and cause emotion to well up in me. I found that choreography was not unlike creative writing; it just uses dancers instead of words.
“So You Think You Can Dance?” is about to complete their tenth season (for a while they had two seasons within one calendar year). Now the whole family watches it. I am continually drawn in by the beauty of the movement, the sheer artistry that can be produced by someone’s body. Now, when I watch some of the dance routines, it is an experience of worship for me, a time of giving thanks to God for God’s good gifts and for dancers’ willingness to share those gifts with me.
A few weeks ago one of the dancers, a young man named Tucker, talked in a video piece about how when he was growing up he never wanted to play sports. He knew the first time he ever saw someone dance that he wanted to be a dancer. His dad could tell how much it meant to him, so instead of trying to force him into a more stereotypically “masculine” childhood of sports and hunting and so on, his dad supported him. His dad just wanted Tucker to do what was in Tucker’s soul. To watch Tucker dance is to watch what it looks like for someone to be allowed to do what they were put on this earth to do. It’s that way with pretty much all of the dancers. When I watch some of these dancers, especially when they dance pieces that were choreographed by Mia Michaels or Travis Wall, I feel like I am watching the essence of life, the very heart of what it means to be human with all the loss and celebration, the rejection and the love. It is absolutely beautiful. I wish I could do that, but that’s their gift not mine.
Here are a couple of videos to watch so you can see what I’m talking about. Tucker is not in either of these dance pieces tell powerful stories and they are choreographed by Mia Michaels. This first piece is called “Addiction.” The male dancer is playing the role of a drug addiction; the female dancer is playing the role of the addict. I just watched this dance again for the first time in a few years. It is so incredibly powerful. You couldn't tell this story with words.
This second piece is called "Hometown Glory." It is also by Mia Michaels. It is incredibly moving as well.
The Scriptures are filled with exhortations to dance in praise of God. I love the scene in which David strips down to his “skivvies” and dances before the ark of the Lord. He was so filled with the joy of the Lord that he could do nothing but dance. One of my favorite memories from seminary is when my World Religions class went to the Simchat Torah celebration at a local conservative Jewish synagogue and we danced with the congregation, holding the Torah scrolls and dancing in the joy of the Lord. Here is a link to the Scriptures where dance shows up in the Bible.
http://www.openbible.info/topics/dance
Also, here is a link to a children's choir in Britain singing my favorite hymn of all time: "The Lord of the Dance." I have always loved the image of Jesus dancing through history, putting out his hands for us to dance along with him.
This seems like the appropriate venue through which to let you know that Diane Matticks is starting two ballet classes that will begin meeting on Monday, September 16. The classes will meet in Persinger Hall and will only be for kids 3-7 years old. If you would like more information for your daughter or son (what if Tucker’s parents would have said “no?”) please call Diane at 740-490-5398. When Diane told me why she was coming out of “retirement” to offer these two classes for little ones, she said, “When God gives you a gift, you have to share it.” Right on, Diane. Right on.
Personally, I will never dance in front of someone. I know no actual dance moves. My legs are too short and I’m 25 pounds overweight. I’m a balding white guy who can’t keep a beat. But sometime when I’m all alone and when I’m filled up with sadness or anger or joy or doubt or frustration or love and there is no other way for me to get it out, I’m going to go somewhere all alone where no one can see me or hear me or wonder where I am. I’ll put my earphones in and turn on itunes and I will dance. You probably wouldn't be able to recognize it as dance, but that's why you won't be there. My heart will know it is dance as will my soul and my body. My God will know it is dance too. I’ll dance not because I’m good at it, but because I’m human. I’ll dance not because I want to, but because I have to. Sometimes words just can't tell the story. Sometimes it takes dance.
Dance, then, wherever you may be;
I am the Lord of the Dance, said he.
And I’ll lead you all wherever you may be,
And I’ll lead you all in the dance, said he.
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