Unlikely Heroes

In April of this year, my wife Dorry and I spent a wonderful vacation in the cities of Houston and Galveston, Texas. Now, a little over four months later, places we enjoyed strolling are deluged with the floodwaters of Hurricane Harvey. It seems that the Gulf Coast of Texas is in need of some heroes. 

Flag of Texas over Galveston Bay

Another place which Dorry and I once visited on a vacation -- Charlottesville, Virginia -- also has been in the news lately. We all know what happened. White supremacists and Neo-Nazis from across the country rallied in Charlottesville to protest the removal of a statue of Confederate General Robert E. Lee, others came to protest them, and violence followed that peaked with a white supremacist from Ohio ramming his car into a crowd of peaceful demonstrators. Nineteen people were injured, and a young woman died. The hate-fueled leaders of the deadly rally have vowed to return to Charlottville. It seems that Charlottesville too could use some heroes.

Whether it's the storm surge of a hurricane or the surging hatred of white nationalism, one has to wonder how strongly we, as a nation, will rally to tackle these challenges. My father once observed, "The fabric of our society is growing weaker because we have lost faith in the power of the ordinary individual to make a difference. We need to recapture the spirit of men and women of the past who believed in themselves and believed that they had something worthwhile to sacrifice for the good of their fellow-man. These people were not great charismatic leaders who stood head and shoulders above everyone else, but common folks, like you and me, who clung to the belief that one person can make an impact and, more than that, has an obligation to do so. They were unlikely heroes.

On December 1, 1955, a black seamstress named Rosa Parks was on her way home from work. She was tired and her feet hurt as she climbed onto a bus in then-segregated Montgomery, Alabama. At the next stop a white man came onto the bus. Following the common practice of the day, the bus driver told Rosa Parks that she would have to stand so that the driver could enlarge the white seating area for this white businessman to sit down. Rosa Parks later said that all she knew was that she was tired and she had had enough. She said 'No' and refused to move, never guessing that God had a preacher named Martin Luther King, Jr. around the corner at Dexter Avenue Baptist Church and that her simple act of conscience would spark a major reform in the social fabric of the United States. Rosa Parks was an unlikely hero.

Strange as it may seem, God's first choice of a method for working in the world is through common, ordinary, earthy people like Rosa Parks, or you, or me. God gives us gifts of goodness, grace, mercy and peace. As we receive these gifts and use them, we discover that our consciences become captive to the word of God, and we find ourselves doing what we must do to live with our consciences. Every act -- especially in the kind of world we live in -- becomes a heroic act, whether large or small. Through people like this, the kingdoms of this earth actually have a fighting chance to become the Kingdom of God.

Perhaps this is what Paul had in mind when he wrote to the common, ordinary people of Corinth who responded to the gospel and said, 'Brothers and sisters, think of what you were when you were called. Not many of you were wise by human standards; not many were influential; not many were of noble birth.' 1 Corinthians 1:26 (NIV). In other words, the Christians in Corinth were mostly a motley crew, just like that motley crew of tax collectors, fishermen and day laborers whom Jesus called to be his first disciples. But Paul said, 'God chose the foolish things of the world to shame the wise; God chose the weak things of the world to shame the strong. God chose the lowly things of this world and the despised things -- and the things that are not -- to nullify the things that are.' 1 Cor. 1:28. So God chose what the world looks down upon and despises and thinks is nothing in order to destroy what the world thinks is important. Paul later wrote in his second letter to the Corinthians that '[w]e have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us.' 2 Cor. 4:7.

We can't explain God's ways. Sometimes they make absolutely no sense to us. Sometimes God appears to be highly mistaken in the way he operates. But the evidence is that God chooses what the world considers to be weakness to shame the strong; that God chooses what the world thinks of as nonsense to shame what the world thinks is wise. God chooses simple, seemingly insignificant men and women whose consciences have become captive to God's word, and God uses them to do God's marvelous work in the world.

But -- and this is the key to the mystery -- they are able to become unlikely heroes because those whom God calls, God also equips and empowers. The important thing is not what one man or one woman can do. The important thing is what God can do through all men and women who choose to be available; who allow their lives, their minds, their consciences to be shaped by the spirit of Jesus Christ; who are willing to live out that life right where they are planted. You yourself can be an unlikely hero. All you must do is be willing to pray, 'Thy will be done in me.'"  

If you would like to be a hero to the victims of Hurricane Harvey, I recommend that you donate to the incredibly effective relief efforts of UMCOR - the United Methodist Committee on Relief. One hundred percent of your donation goes to hurricane relief because the United Methodist Church picks up this agency's administrative expenses. You can donate here.

And if the events of Charlottesville have moved you to learn more about what you can do to combat racism, you will want to check out the resources gathered for the United Methodist Church's "Embrace Love" campaign.  You can find those resources here.      

Lord, may your will be done ... in me. Amen.

From: "Unlikely Heroes"
Scripture: 1 Samuel 16:1-13; 1 Corinthians 1:18-31

The Perfect Wedding

I went to a wedding today. The happy, young couple found each other as students at Grove City College - the same school where I met and fell in love with my wife, Dorry more than 30 years ago. Dorry officiated today's service, and from my vantage point, it went off without a hitch (except, of course, that the bride and groom got hitched). It all looked so effortless. But I know better. Months of thought, planning and attention to detail came into focus in that service. Nothing was left to chance. 

And while today's wedding service and reception were wrapped up in half a day, I read in one of my dad's sermons that a wedding in Jesus' time was a much longer and more elaborate affair than your typical modern-day version:

"In ancient Palestine, a wedding was quite the occasion. It usually lasted for more than a day. The ceremony itself took place late in the evening, after a feast. Then the couple was led through the village streets by the light of torches and with a canopy over their heads. There was no honeymoon. The couple stayed at home, and for a week they held an open house. They wore crowns and bridal robes. They were treated like a king and queen, and for this week their word was law. In a culture, where life was a constant matter of survival, this week of celebration was a welcome relief."

"There was a wedding in Cana of Galilee. Jesus' mother was there, and Jesus and his disciples were also invited to the celebration. When the wine ran out, Jesus' mother said to him, 'They don't have any wine.'" John 2:1-2 (CEB)

"For a Jewish feast, wine was essential. 'Without wine', said the rabbis, 'there is no joy.' To have the wine run out like this before the guests had gone was a horrible violation of the sacred duty of hospitality. It was a humiliation for the bride and bridegroom and the whole family. It was the sort of situation that our worst nightmares are made of. Little wonder then, that Mary came to Jesus frantic over this wine situation. ...

Here was a microcosm of  what the human struggle is all about. Here were good people trying to push and pound and mold a small, stubborn segment of time into exactly the form they wanted. Was this too much to ask of life? And now, despite their best efforts, it was all falling apart before their very eyes. They had run out of wine.  

Life is very much like the perfect wedding. Everything is set from the flowers to the tuxedos. But rare is the wedding where something doesn't happen to set us on edge. The flower girl goes on a sit-down strike; the bride is 20 minutes late; the minister calls the groom by the wrong name. In a wedding, these things often can be laughed at later. But in real life, the snafus are sometimes tragic, and irreparable harm can be done. A spouse is unfaithful; children refuse to fulfill the dreams we had for them; and then the terrible specter of illness or accident raises its ugly head.  This life is not fair, not even for good and prudent people. As soon as we understand this and let go of the illusion that we can plan and execute the perfect life, we will be ready to hear the Good News ... "   

"Nearby were six stone water jars used for the Jewish cleansing ritual, each able to hold about twenty or thirty gallons. Jesus said to the servants, 'Fill the jars with water,' and they filled them to the brim. Then he told them, 'Now draw some from them and take it to the headwaiter,' and they did. The headwaiter tasted the water that had become wine. ... The headwaiter called the groom and said, 'Everyone serves the good wine first. They bring out the second-rate wine only when the guests are drinking freely. You kept the good wine until now.' This was the first miraculous sign that Jesus did in Cana of Galilee." -John 2:6-11 (CEB)

"The Good News -- the wine that used to be water -- is that in spite of our brokenness and imperfection, in spite of our sins and failures, in spite of our struggles and humiliations, we are loved. We are loved for who we are, not for what we have accomplished. We are loved, accepted and forgiven. In this love there is a security that the worst tragedy in life cannot touch. In this love there is a promise that one day all the troubles that afflict us now, all the tragedies that now seem so invincible, will evaporate and be as nothing in the light of God's eternal presence. Jesus came to turn our water into wine.  He came to give us a home, both here and hereafter. What God creates is better than what anyone can manufacture. The moment we realize this is the moment of our own personal miracle, the moment of our salvation, the moment of freedom at last, the moment of true joy.

And so that day in Cana, the wedding went on, and those who were responsible for planning it relaxed and enjoyed themselves for the first time all week. They danced, and sang, and ate, and drank, and quietly noted that what made the perfect wedding was not all their planning, but the fact that Jesus was there."

From: "The Perfect Wedding"

Scripture: John 2:1-12

Preached at Paoli United Methodist Church 

Will-Power or Higher Power?

Well, we've reached the beginning of another New Year. Have you made your resolution for 2017? I haven't. In fact, I've kind of given up on the concept of New Year's resolutions. I can't tell you how many times I've started off a brand new year with good intentions of keeping a resolution, only to see that promise wither in the cold of January, February and March.

Perhaps this year, I should be considering a New Year's covenant instead of a New Year's resolution. Here's how my father once explained the difference:

"At this time of year perhaps more than any other our minds turn to promises. As we begin a new year there is a certain psychology built into us that gives us a sense of beginning anew. It's a time when we review our life and see what changes should be affected, what new promises should be made, what old promises renewed. In short, this is the time for a New Year's resolution.

But it always seems to me that there is a certain sadness and human tragedy about the New Year and its resolutions. Many resolutions are made about trivial things, and larger ones often are made tongue-in-cheek, for we know full well that they will not be kept. This is a season for human promises made by human beings, and experience has taught us that human-level promises are very fragile, and vulnerable to many threats, and usually end up broken - if not in fact then at least in spirit. By and large, we find it far easier to make promises than to keep them. 

Fortunately, we worship the One who keeps promises. It is only God who never waivers and keeps his Word. It is only from God that we can receive the will to keep our own promises. The word for 'promise' most often used in the Bible is 'covenant.' Simply stated, the idea of covenant is 'I will be your God, if you will be my people.' It is a reciprocal kind of relationship that God offers us. In spite of the fact that we are often useless and spoiled, God in his infinite grace loves us and wants to give us a whole life. It can be ours if we fulfill our part and respond to God in faith and love. 

Entering into a living, vital covenant relationship with God is in no way like making a New Year's resolution or any other human promise. Such human commitments are like a bankrupt debtor promising to pay all his creditors in full. The sooner we ditch our seeming self-sufficiency the better. A covenant relationship with God is not made by telling God what you will do for him. It is, in utter humility and helplessness, opening yourself up to God and letting him come into your life and make you his man, his woman. 

To follow Christ I am not to say, 'Lord, now I'm going to straighten myself out and be your kind of man; I will follow you anywhere.' No, that's not what I say at all. I say something like this: 'Lord, I've blown it. Right now it seems like I can't do anything right. I've messed up my life and my world. If you can still love me, Lord, if you still want me, I'll cast myself on your mercy.'

And, you know, the most amazing thing happens to the person who does that. Because God has promised to love him no matter what, and because he has accepted that promise, a new grace, a new promise-keeping power floods into his life. Now he daily receives from God the strength and love to make commitments to his family and friends and the world and to carry them through. He discovers that some of God's constancy is in his own life and that he is victorious and trustworthy. You see, our promise-keeping power is a part of God's promise-keeping power. 'Apart from him we an do nothing.'

As we begin the New Year, will you join me in renewing your covenant relationship with God? This is a prayer written by John Wesley, the founder of our Methodist tradition, to be used at the New Year. It is one of the most powerful prayers ever written. An honest praying of this prayer will open your life to a real renovation and renewal by God Almighty ..."

The Wesley Covenant Prayer

"I am no longer my own but thine. Put me to what thou wilt. Rank me with whom thou wilt. Put me to doing. Put me to suffering. Let me be employed for thee or laid aside for thee, exalted for thee or brought low for thee. Let me be full. Let me be empty. Let me have all things. Let me have nothing. I freely and heartily yield all things to thy pleasure and disposal. And now O glorious and blessed God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit, thou art mine and I am thine. So be it. And the covenant which I have made on earth, let it be ratified in heaven. Amen." 

From: "Promises, Promises"

Preached at: Paoli UM Church, Paoli, PA

The Light Still Shines

In the weeks leading up to Christmas this year, there has been a special candle burning in the sanctuary at Newtown United Methodist Church during our Advent worship services. It's the Peace Light. In Bethlehem at the Grotto of the Nativity, the traditional site of the birth of Christ, caretakers keep a flame continuously lit. Every year a boy scout or girl scout from Austria travels to Bethlehem and lights a lamp from the flame. The burning lamp is then flown back to Austria, and its flame is distributed from Vienna to churches across Europe.  

At Christmas in 2001, the Peace Light was flown across the Atlantic Ocean from Vienna to New York City as a sign of hope in the wake of the 9-11 terrorist attacks. For many Christmases since 2001, the Peace Light has come to New York and has spread from there across North America. 

This year, our church was offered the Peace Light by a nearby congregation, and I had the experience of driving a flickering lantern to our church and carrying the Peace Light into the sanctuary. It's a safe bet that I will never carry a burning Olympic Torch into a stadium to light the Olympic Flame, but I did do my small part to complete the Peace Light's incredible journey of nearly 5,800 miles from Bethlehem on the West Bank to Newtown, Pennsylvania -- via Vienna and New York City.

The Peace Light burning in our living room

Instead of having the Peace Light burn unattended in an empty sanctuary between Sunday worship services, Dorry and I have looked after the Peace Light in our home. I never experienced having a candle burning in my home 24/7 before. I've learned that a single candle throws a surprising amount of light in the darkness. When I walk into our living room at night and see the Peace Light burning on the mantle of our fireplace, I'm reminded of the Gospel of John's poetic description of Jesus: "In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. ... The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. ... In him was life, and that life was the light of all mankind. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it." -John 1:1, 14, 4-5  (NIV)

My father once observed that "[i]t is always so with light and darkness. No matter how deep and vast the darkness, one tiny light can pierce through it, and the darkness, for all its vastness, is powerless to overcome that light. Darkness is always at the mercy of light."

2016 has been a year in which many of us found ourselves enveloped in darkness from news of terrorism, or war, or mass shootings, or racism, or our hate-filled political rhetoric. These are "dark social and political situations that permeate us from the outside."  At other points in the year, we have been shrouded in "a darkness that comes from within. It is the darkness of hopelessness and despair we feel when we get bogged down in the tragedy and pain and sometimes just plain boredom of everyday life. There is no heavier, seemingly impenetrable darkness than what we feel when life wounds us in one way or another, and we cry out to God, and God doesn't seem to be there. Terrible, terrible things happen in families, in the workplace, in marriages, in the human mind and body. Evil is very much alive in the experience of every one of us, We cannot deny it. Each one of us is to some degree enswathed in the darkness that comes from within."

It was into this darkness -- from without and within -- that Jesus was born. One Christmas Eve, my father asked his congregation, "Can you imagine how cold and dark that stable must have been? That stable is the world. It is no small thing for God to enter that darkness. There are the cries of a young mother in labor, bearing her first child in a strange town far from home. There is the pain of a father's helplessness as he tries to assist at his own child's birth. It is not easy for God to send his Light into our dark world. It costs God much; ultimately, there is a cross." 

This birth -- this arrival of the Light in the midst of darkness -- announces two things we desperately need to hear: "First, God cares. God knows and cares about the darkness that engulfs us. Your personal darkness is unique; it is different than that of every other person in this church. Yet, God knows and cares. This is the first thing we need to hear. Second, God conquers. God's light still shines, and it conquers the darkness. No darkness can stand up to God's light. This is the significance of that little child born to refugee parents on a dark, cold night in a musty stable. What could be a more powerful reminder that God's light still shines than the birth of this beautiful baby in such a dark setting?"

"This child born in a hostile environment among strangers, this child cradled in a cold, dark barn, this child whose birth we celebrate at Christmas, this child tells us precisely -- because of WHO HE IS -- that God's love extends to the most humble person in the most desperate situation. This child is the Light shining in the darkness. This Word can bring joy to the multitudes. This Word can bring joy to you! See this scene of the nativity for what it really means: The Light still shines!" 

Merry Christmas, friends!       

From: "The Light Still Shines"

Scripture: John 1:1-18

A Thanksgiving Fix For A Divided Nation

The pollsters at Gallup released survey results yesterday showing that a record-high 77% of Americans view this nation as divided. More than a third of Americans are dreading Thanksgiving dinner this year because of inevitable conversations, and confrontations, about the recent presidential election. News outlets are reporting that tensions are running so high that folks are uninviting friends and family members to Thanksgiving dinner because of their differing political views. We've never seen anything quite like this before. Or have we? When I dug into Bill's Barrel to read some Thanksgiving sermons, I quickly found one discussing how polarized American society was in 1977. Here's what my father had to say that year on the eve of the Thanksgiving holiday: 

"Our community, and all communities, stand in a desperately divided condition today. We hear so much about polarization in our nation, and most of us who have our eyes and ears open know that it is not just an empty phrase or a gimmick cooked up by the press. It is real. If you circulate at all and talk to people in your community, and if you examine yourself, you cannot help but be terrified at the chasms individuals and groups are dredging out between each other. 

It has really come to the point where we must ask if true community does in fact exist any more. Or are we rather just an aggregate of unrelated people who share nothing with each other and just happen to live in the same geographical area? The barriers between us range from indifference, to quiet prejudice, to outright enmity. People live across the street or across the hall and don't even know each other's names. Symbols, like long or short hair, black or white skin, or different accents become walls that keep us from learning to know, appreciate and help each other. 

But this is not a new problem even if it takes on greater proportions today. If you read the gospels, you get a glimpse of the great distance between peoples in the day and place where Jesus lived. Talk about a polarized community -- that was it! Gentiles versus Jews; Pharisees versus Sadducees; Jews loyal to Rome versus rebellious Jewish zealots; Jews versus Samaritans; clean versus unclean. It's hard to imagine such a small country with so many sub-groups trying desperately to avoid each other and clashing when they couldn't. Sometimes, this was carried to ridiculous extremes. 

Samaria stood in the middle between the Jewish province of Galilee to the North and the Jewish province of Judea to the South. In Jesus's day, any good Jew traveling from Galilee to Judea or from Judea to Galilee would not take the shortest and most sensible route through Samaria, but in order to avoid the Samaritans (who were considered heretics and mixed breeds) would travel clear around Samaria, losing much time and energy. Or take another example: Learned rabbis decreed that when the wind was blowing from behind a leper toward a healthy person, the leper had to stand at least 50 yards away.

These examples sound ridiculous to us because they come from an ancient time. But if we could somehow get outside of our skins and watch some of the things we do, I'm sure our polarizing ways would seem equally ridiculous. A white family goes to the expense and trouble of uprooting themselves and moving if a black family moves in nearby. Property-owning taxpayers vote to keep out apartments, assuming that renters will bring an undesirable element. Students throw rocks and mock the police unmindful of how the very law they flout guarantees their freedom. Middle-class neighbors, comfortable and without much to do on a Saturday afternoon, sit on the patio knocking "lazy" welfare recipients. We have not come much further in building real community than had the many factions in Jesus's day."

So what is the solution for such a Balkanized state of affairs? My dad sought the answer in Thanksgiving: 

"A true community is born when we can say thanks to God. What a unifying revelation it could be if all of us could really apprehend the fact that same God who makes it rain in my suburban middle-class township also makes it rain on the inner city, on the rural farming community and on the affluent neighborhood, on the hard-scrabbled borough and on the quaint college town. Now that sounds simple, I know, but I think there's a point. If all of us, despite our differences, could see by faith that our life comes from a common source in God, if we all could suddenly grasp that our common needs are all served by the same Lord, that our thanksgivings rise to the same Father, then most assuredly, the gaps between us would quickly close.

It is said of animals who are natural enemies that during times of flood they can be found sitting side by side quite peaceably on some high piece of ground. Why? Simply because they have been forced to recognize that this small piece of dry ground is their one and only salvation. How parabolic that is for us! Here we are bickering and feuding, expending valuable energy, sometimes even spilling blood to maintain the differences between us, and so few of us ever stop and look up to get the big picture. So few of us manage to apprehend by faith that when each individual breaths out thanksgiving for life, it all rises to the same God.

A true community also is born when we say thanks to each other. In Jesus's day no two people stood further apart, both figuratively and literally, than a healthy Jew and a leper. When Jesus heals a group of ten lepers, they go on their way, but one suddenly turns and breaks ranks with the rest, runs back and falls at Jesus's feet, giving him thanks. This man, who is not only a leper but a Samaritan, returns to thank a Jew! This is a real breakthrough. The Gospel draws people together into Christian community. 

Christ lends a wholeness to life, not only to individual life but also to shared life between people. Christ brings us together into a relationship of mutual gratitude and appreciation. Somehow Christ gives us the ability to see differences in other people not as barriers, not as something to fear, but rather as blessings. What the other fellow has that I don't have is something he can offer to me for my enrichment, and something for which I should thank him. God very often chooses to bestow his blessings on us through others. This is how God works. How stunted and narrow our lives become when, because of our differences, we cut ourselves off from the good gifts God would give us through others.

This Thanksgiving, it is really up to us to choose what we would make of this event. It could be merely a time to turn inward and thank God for our private prosperity, but I urge you to go beyond that. Our community is as polarized and fragmented as any American community today. It is our job as the Body of Christ in this time and this place to be the reconciling agents in our community. The way to begin this leavening work is to remember that all people, despite their differences, owe thanks to the same God and, because of their differences, owe thanks to each other." 

From: "A Community Gives Thanks"

Preached at: Community Thanksgiving Eve Service,

Easton, Pennsylvania (1977)

Scripture: Luke 17:11-19; John 4:1-14

Day by Day Faith

The weather was nearly perfect as Dorry and I walked around the Garden of Reflection, a beautiful memorial garden near our home. It was just what I needed. Yesterday was the end of a hectic, even frantic work week that left me on edge, and the stakes only get higher in the week ahead. But today, I've set all of that aside. Today, I'm just enjoying the day. 

Dorry at the Garden of Reflection

A day like today - sandwiched between a trying week behind me and a daunting week ahead - usually threatens to pull me into a spiral of anxiety. When I'm harried by what's behind me and worried by what's ahead, everything looks worse, every challenge appears insurmountable. But that didn't happen to me today. What made the difference? Was it something I ate?

I found a sermon in my dad's barrel that recalled God's promise to give the people of Israel something to eat each morning as they wandered through the wilderness after escaping slavery in Egypt. "Every morning, they found a strange white substance on the ground. They saw it and called it manna, meaning 'what is it?' The manna tasted like wafers made with honey. Morning after morning, as the people gathered their manna, the way of God's provision should have become clear to them. Those who out of fear and greed went around madly gathering as much as they could discovered that when they were through, they had nothing left over. Likewise, those who only gathered a little found that theirs was sufficient for their needs. A strange substance this manna, to shrink and stretch like that, just according to the attitude of its user. And perhaps it was not so strange after all. It is simply God's manner of giving - enough, and that is all."

"The promise of God was that the manna would be there every morning - fresh and new upon the ground. But there were some who thought they better save some manna for the next day, just in case. Just in case what? Well, just in case God didn't keep his promise. They didn't say that out loud; usually, they just rationalized. You know, 'Make hay while the sun shines.'  But the next morning, the rotten, stinky stuff pungently reminded them of their little faith. As they held their nose with one hand and they scraped it out of their bowls with the other, they must have come a little closer to understanding this God who was leading them to the promised land with no more guarantee than his word, his promise. What a contrast between that beautiful, white manna eaten on the very day for which it was given and that wormy, moldy ooze stored away for the future by anxious men of little faith."

"This graphic illustration foreshadowed the words of Jesus many hundreds of years later, as he stood on a hill and said: "So do not worry saying, 'What shall we eat?' or 'What shall we drink?' ... [D]o not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own." (Matthew 6:31, 34). 

"God's blessings are meant to be used, and to be used as they are given, a day at a time. They are for now; they do not secure the future. Thus it is that we pray, as Jesus taught us, 'Give us this day our daily bread.' Our Israelite fore-bearers - worshipers of the same gracious, giving God whom we worship - learned about daily bread as they went through the wilderness on their way to the promised land. We too are the people of God, on a journey through the wilderness of this world, pointed toward a promised land that our Lord often called the Kingdom of God. God has called us to a mission; God has promised us the presence of his Spirit on the way. And yet our meager faith finds it difficult to grasp that promise firmly. In our wilderness there is plenty of food and water, but fear grips us because there are so many other things that threaten our material security: bombs, pollution, economic uncertainty, crime, illness, family break-down, just to name a few. Each of us has our own special enemies - those things that worry us and make us forget God and his promise."

"What God gave us yesterday was for yesterday, not today or tomorrow. Will we simply open ourselves anew to whatever blessings God gives us today? That is the way God gives, and that is the only way we can rightly receive - a day at a time, enough for our needs."

"What a new, fresh security the Israelites must have felt when they learned God's way of giving. How it must have freed them of anxiety and released them to stop worrying about themselves. How it must have freed them to love others and give of themselves throughout their demanding journey. It is so simply and matter-of-factly stated at the end of the story: 'They ate manna, until they came to the border of Canaan.' (Exodus 16:35)."

"So may we eat, and so may we be satisfied, and so may we be freed to give to others as God in Christ has given to us."        

This morning, I ate manna of a sort. I ate a breakfast that I helped to prepare and share with two homeless families staying at a nearby shelter. As God gave them food that they needed, God gave me some much-needed perspective. If these families in such great need can count on the goodness of strangers to feed and house them until they can get back on their feet, surely I can count on God to sustain me - day by day - through the challenging week ahead.  

"Manna in the Wilderness"

Scripture: Exodus 16; Matt.6:25-34

Preached in 1971

Grace United Methodist Church

Millersville, PA    

On Rainbows & Church Unity

Sometimes I pull an old sermon from my father's barrel and I find that it reads as though it were newly penned to be preached today. With Christians now so sharply divided over hot-button political, social and theological issues, these words that my dad wrote for his congregation in 1984 might as well have been meant for us over thirty years later:

"Too often we see partnership and unity in the Church replaced with factionalism and suspicion. An outsider observing us would wonder whether we consider it more important to be about our mission or to quarrel over issues such as female ministers in the Church, or whether we should use only male terms to refer to God, or conservative versus liberal theology, or the place of homosexuals in the church and its ministry, or many others.

Unfortunately, today in many people's eyes it is not enough to say you are a Christian. If you do, you will be pressed further to reveal whether you are a liberal or a conservative, whether you're straight or gay and where you stand on those issues, whether you're high church or low church, whether you're charismatic or fundamentalist or evangelical, whether you advocate a theology of liberation or feminism, whether you are part of a denomination or an independent.

Christians are preoccupied with choosing up sides over various hot issues and consolidating their strength to protect their own turf. This is a very serious challenge to partnership and unity within the Church; it is damaging to our credibility and our Christian witness before the world. In the days of the early Church it is reported that outsiders looked at the Christian fellowship and said, 'See how they love one another!' It seems today that our factionalism is more of a distinguishing mark than our love for one another.

Our partnership and unity as Christians comes from the fact that before the cross all of us are absolutely equal. The criminal and the PTA president, the unemployed laborer and the corporate executive, black and white, male and female, socialist and capitalist, gay and straight. Before the cross, the only thing that differentiates us is whether or not we have accepted God's forgiving, transforming love. All of the other stands we take on social issues, political issues, economic issues, moral issues are minor compared to the stand we take at the foot of the cross. The cross may have been on a hill, but at the foot of the cross the ground is perfectly level. No one stands higher than anyone else there.

Solidarity is often little more than an enlarged form of self-interest. Communities and churches that are made up only of 'birds of a feather' are not the fulfillment of the Gospel. We call Jesus the Light of the World, so it might be helpful to think about how light works. We know light by what it lights up, by the way it is reflected. Light is the perfect mixture of the full spectrum of colors. Most objects which the sun's rays hit will absorb some colors in the light and reflect others. We see only the colors that are reflected. Those colors, we know, are an outstanding variety of shades and contrasts -- never just one uniform color.

It is exactly the same with each different person on whom the Light of Jesus Christ shines. He shines on each one of us, and we each look slightly different because we each reflect slightly different parts of his light. And so, one of us under Christ's light is a fighter against social injustice, while another is zealous for personal conversion. One advocates order and dignity in worship, while another calls for freedom and spontaneity. One pushes for change, while another cautions us not to lose the value of tradition. Doesn't every human being color the pure light of Christ to some degree and in some direction? Should this always be understood as the tragedy of our imperfection? Or might it be a blessing of diversity, like a rainbow that in a sense opens up or unfolds the sunlight?

Through his cross, Christ revealed himself most fully as the Light of the World -- a light that at one and the same time enhances our differences and yet draws us together because it shines on all of us from one true source. We should not be frustrated with diversity and contrast in the Church. We must thank God for every new tint that shines forth to the world. None of us individually, but all of us together in true partnership, can reflect the pure light of God to a darkened world. This is the Good News we have to give: 'God is light, and in him there is no darkness at all.'"  

From: "Toward a New Partnership in the Church"
Scripture: Philippians 1:1-11; II Corinthians 8:1-7, 9:10-15
Preached at: Paoli U.M. Church, Paoli, PA  (1984)