Counting the cost

Reading: Luke 14 v 25-33

Often, at funeral services, I read a passage from Ecclesiastes which says: There is a time for everything and a season for every activity under heaven. I’m sure you are familiar with some of that text, immortalised in song by The Byrds: A time to be born, a time to die  a time to plant, a time to reap, a time to laugh a time to weep. I have great difficulty, though in including the verse: a time to love, a time to hate. Aren’t we taught, as children, that we should never hate?

And don’t we see more than enough evidence of hate at work in our world?

Hate that leads to extreme measures.

In today’s gospel Jesus words could well fall into that extremist spectrum.

And, taken on board by fundamentalists, those words from our gospel this morning have led and continue to lead to abhorrent acts.

If you want to be my disciple, says Jesus, you must love me more than father, mother, brothers and sisters. You must take up your cross and follow me.

Extremists would revel in the older translation which says:

"Whoever comes to me

and does not hate his father and mother,

wife and children,

brothers and sisters,

yes, and even life itself,

cannot be my disciple."

"Whoever does not carry the cross and follow me

cannot be my disciple."

Is this then, just a gospel for extremists?

Is it nothing to you and I, reasonable folk who want to discover a more reasonable way of being Jesus followers?

The stories Jesus told around this teaching, might give us more of an idea of the impact of his words.

An impact that hits us hard.

Maybe not to the extent that we hate family but Jesus’ gospel words should change us nonetheless:

Who, says Jesus, builds a tower without first sitting down and working out the cost?

Who takes troops into battle without first working out whether there are enough troops to defeat the enemy?

Both those questions resonate in the world in which we find ourselves embroiled today.

A world in financial crisis because, for years, we have not counted the cost. We have borrowed way beyond our means and now find ourselves overwhelmed by debt.

And as governments send troops into more and more foreign conflict it is all too clear that the battle has not been planned and the cost has certainly not been counted.

So, how does this gospel speak to us today?

What does it say to us, who would consider ourselves reasonable, who are not extremists?

For us, is this just one of those passages we have to gloss over – one of those difficult bits of the bible that’s become irrelevant in this day and age unless you are an extremist?

Because these words of Jesus seem so harsh, it would be easy to write them off.

Because they seem to belong to a different time and context and culture, it would be simpler to just leave them where they are.

To do that, however, to disregard these words, to consign them to the just too hard to follow category plays into the hands of both the extremists and the easy gospel folk.

Because if we can’t make sense of them.

If we can’t discover Jesus meaning in these words for our lives today, then we’ve handed over the gospel to those who would distort it and use it for their own ends.

Disregarding these words of Jesus plays into the hands of the devil.

And the gospel according to the devil is very different form the gospel as taught by Jesus:

Here are The Devil's beatitudes: beatitudes for followers of Jesus who discard the difficult bits, followers who start out, but do not finish:

The Devil’s beatitudes:

Blessed are those who are too tired, too busy, too distracted to spend an hour once a week with their fellow Christians, they are my best workers.

Blessed are those Christians who wait to be asked and expect to be thanked - I can use them.

Blessed are the touchy. With a bit of luck, they may stop going to church - they are my missionaries.

Blessed are the troublemakers - they shall be called my children.

Blessed are the complainers - I'm all ears to them and I will spread their message.

Blessed are the church members who expect to be invited to their own church - for they are a part of the problem instead of the solution.

Blessed are they who gossip - for they shall cause strife and divisions.  That pleases me.

Blessed are they who are easily offended - for they will soon get angry  and quit.

Blessed are they who do not give their offering to carry on God's work - for they are my helpers.

Blessed are they who profess to love God but hate their brother or sister  - for they shall be with me forever.

Blessed are they who hear this and think it is about other people - I've got you.

 - The Devil’s beatitudes.

Do those seem at all familiar?

Are those more the maxims we’re living by than the hard words that Jesus speaks?

Who, says Jesus, decides to build a tower without first sitting down and working out the cost?

To be a disciple is not easy.

It is a costly business.

It’s not about getting caught up in the emotion of the moment but about working out the real implications of the cost of discipleship.

Recently, I organised a Christian book club in a local café.

We were studying Philip Yancey’s book: What’s so amazing about grace?

There was a quote in that book that said that Grace is the one thing the church has that the world doesn’t have.

Those of us who were there were quick to dispute that, often finding more grace in the world than in the church.

Deitrich Bonhoeffer,  a German who dared to stand up to Hitler’s policies and who died at the hands of the Nazi regime wrote, while in prison, about two kinds of grace, cheap grace and costly grace.

Here is how Bonhoeffer defines them:

Cheap grace is the preaching of forgiveness without requiring repentance, (it is) baptism without church discipline, Communion without confession, absolution without personal confession.  Cheap grace is grace without discipleship, grace without the cross, grace without Jesus Christ, living and incarnate." 

         Costly grace is the gospel which must be sought again and again, the gift which must be asked for, the door at which a man must knock. 

        Such grace is costly because it calls us to follow, and it is grace because it calls us to follow Jesus Christ.  It is costly because it costs a man his life, and it is grace because it gives a man the only true life.  It is costly because it condemns sin, and grace because it justifies the sinner.  Above all, it is costly because it cost God the life of his Son: "ye were bought at a price," and what has cost God much cannot be cheap for us.  Above all, it is grace because God did not reckon his Son too dear a price to pay for our life, but delivered him up for us. . .  

        . . .   Grace is costly because it compels a man to submit to the yoke of Christ and follow him;  it is grace because Jesus says:  "my yoke is easy and my burden light."

Isn’t that what is at the heart of our gospel this morning?

Cheap grace and costly grace.

Are we willing to accept the grace that the church bestows without any thought or sacrifice on our part?

Are we willing to make grace a woolly sentiment that comes through rites of passage such as baptism and communion?

Or are we willing to accept the grace that we are promised and realise that it comes with a price?

Are we willing to recognise that in the grace of baptism, there is the call to serve?

And in the grace of communion, in Christ’s body broken for us, there is the call to lay down our lives to follow Christ?

Perhaps the church has never been a particularly demanding or challenging place for you.

Perhaps it has been a place of comfort or of habit.

Today’s gospel challenges all of us to wake up from that.

To shake off our complacency – the “church will see me out” attitude.

As Frederick Buechner puts it:

"If the world is sane, then Jesus is mad as a hatter and the Last Supper is the Mad Tea Party.

The world says, Mind your own business, and Jesus says, There is no such thing as your own business.

The world says, Follow the wisest course and be a success, and Jesus says, Follow me and be crucified.

The world says, Drive carefully — the life you save may be your own — and Jesus says, Whoever would save his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life for my sake will find it.

The world says, Law and order, and Jesus says, Love.

The world says, Get and Jesus says, Give.

In terms of the world's sanity, Jesus is crazy as a coot, and anybody who thinks he can follow him without being a little crazy too is labouring less under a cross than under a delusion."

So  - are you prepared to leave the safety of sanity, to go against accepted wisdom, to love and to give, to really feel the weight of that cross?

Even when everything tells us it’s madness?

Following Jesus costs – the way of love is a hard path to tread.

It is extreme- in the best of ways.

Let’s choose, in response to the gospel to be extreme, discovering the costliness of grace, discovering ways of following Jesus sacrificially, discovering ways of giving up what we have to be disciples  - considered mad - for the glory of God.

Amen

A welcoming church?

This week's gospel: Luke 14: 1,7-14

Over on the other blog I was reflecting on how sad it is that, for many people, the church would not even be a place of last resort when they are in need of help.
The institutional church has built up a reputation of exclusivity and judgmentalism - so far from the inclusive, biased to the rabble, church that Jesus modeled.
And, while I would love to think and claim that things have changed - that nowadays the church is an embracing, welcoming place, I would be hard pressed to evidence that. Because there are still too many people in the church who simply don't get it. They see faith and its practice as something to be guarded and protected, not flung open to those who would not handle with care, those with "no respect".
This week's gospel speaks to all of us who are stumbling blocks, who bar the gates and exclude many whom Christ calls- and welcomes - into the kingdom.
The church is not ours - but Christ's. Christ did not exclude. Christ did not look with disapproval on those who did not know the rules of behaviour - but welcomed them and rejoiced in their differences and loved their non conformity.
I love the church.
I love my place in it.
But I cannot see it ever becoming the kind of church that Christ envisaged without a radical rethink and an earth shattering reform.
And, if that were ever to happen, would we be happy about being at the bottom of the pile as we surely would in God's upside down kingdom?
This gospel challenges so much that even those who claim to be open and welcoming need to examine. Because just when we think we've grasped what it's all about, there's a rumble of divine laughter encouraging us to push the boundaries again, to throw out our hastily redrafted liberal rules and get back to the drawing board.

This song, from Nichole Nordeman encourages us to leave the safety of the status quo behind which we cower.

God stoops down

A reflection on today's gospel

Reading:  Luke 13:10-17

With the children, earlier we were talking about Super heroes that have become a part of our popular culture - superman, Batman, He-Man, Wonder Woman, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles...

Often, to see a super hero, we have to look up – to Superman soaring in the sky; to Spiderman scaling the heights. He man is huge.

Perhaps the Ninja Turtles are the exception, with their home in the sewers.

What about Jesus?

Where do we find him?

In our gospel reading this morning, he must have been stooping pretty low.

To look into the eyes of a woman who couldn’t stand up straight.

A woman who hadn’t been able to stand up straight for 18 years.

Imagine what life would be like if you couldn’t stand up straight.

Anyone who suffers from back problems has probably experienced a little of that.

Trouble straightening up.

Feeling more comfortable staying a little closer to the ground.

But this woman, whom Jesus healed, had no choice.

She was so crippled that she could not straighten up.

What must have her view of life been like?

I imagined her shuffling along the High Street in Ayr.

What would she see?

Let’s think.

Discarded trash.

Those leaflets that folk hand out advertising things that often don’t even make it to a bin but are discarded in the street.

There would be a good number of those to observe ambling down Ayr High Street.

Cigarette doubts.

Plenty of those too.

Discarded chewing gum – or chuddy – that would be a big feature.

(I won’t mention the dog dirt)

Folks’ shoes rushing past.

Maybe the odd toddler, smiling up at her.

But, on the whole, a pretty bleak picture.

And I’m not sure that in Jesus’ day, the outlook would have been any less bleak.

It is out of that kind of existence that Jesus called the woman.

Jesus called her “A daughter of Abraham”.

And he healed her.

Healed her so that she was free.

Healed her, so that, once again, she could look up and see the stars.

And that’s not the end of the story.

This gospel is not just about Jesus stooping down to heal a crippled woman.

This gospel is also about Jesus bringing freedom to all who were in the temple precints that day.

By healing that woman, by showing that the Sabbath was a good day for doing good things, he freed up all those who for years had been bound by the rules of the Sabbath.

And who, in their bondage had been miserable – just as miserable as the woman who couldn’t stand up straight.

That day, Jesus brought not just physical healing but spiritual healing too.

By demonstrating that if the rules imposed by the religious authorities are making our encounter with God a miserable one, then there’s something far wrong.

As Presbyterians we are very law abiding people. (And, I'm tempted to say - very miserable people too - but that's not true of this congregation)

The Church of Scotland imposes all sorts of rules and regulations to ensure that what we do together, especially in the worship of God’s house, is right and proper.

But there are times, when we too, need to be released from our bondage.

Times, when we too need the freedom of disregarding the letter of the law – perhaps even flaunting it – so that we can truly encounter God – the God who is stooping down to look us in the eye.

St Francis of Assisi puts it this way:

I think God might be a little prejudiced.


For once He asked me to join Him on a walk 
through this world, and we gazed into every heart on this earth, 
and I noticed He lingered a bit longer
 before any face that was
 weeping, and before any eyes that were
 laughing. And sometimes when we passed
 a soul in worship. God too would kneel down. I have come to learn: God
 adores His 
creation.

Source: Love Poems From God, translated by Daniel Ladinsky

God adores God's creation. God adores you and me.

What could you offload today to a God who wants you to be free?

What are the peculiar burdens and straight jackets that are holding you back?

What is the healing you need?

God stoops down to lift us from whatever is weighing us down.

To release us from whatever is tying us in knots.

To straighten us up and help us carry the load with our shoulders back and our heads held high because we are loved by a God who is prejudiced.

And whose prejudice is us.

You are a child of God.

God brings the freedom of healing to you today.

I want to play you a song just now, written by a Greenock singer songwriter called Yvonne Lyon.

There’s a lovely story to this song – Yvonne was driving along in her car one day, preoccupied with all manner of things, when a young girl, crossing the road with her mum, looked at her and gave her the brightest smile. It just changed the day.

THAT is the kind of thing that God does for us – every day.

Thanks be to God.

Finding God

It is necessary that we find God, and God cannot be found in noise and unpeace.... See how Nature--trees, flowers and grass--grow in stillness; how stars, moon and sun run their course in silence. The more we receive through quiet prayer, the more we can give in the activity of our daily lives. In essence, it is not what we say, but what God says to us and through us. All our words are useless if they do not come from within. Words that do not carry the light of Christ only increase the darkness.

Mother Theresa



(Source: quoted on http://www.inwardoutward.org/)

Building bigger and better?

 

Sunday 1^st August 2010

Readings: Ecclesiastes 1:2, 12-14; 2:18-23

           Luke 12:13-21

  

Vanity of vanities… all is vanity.

I saw all the deeds that are done under the sun; and see, all is vanity and a chasing after wind.

I hated all my toil in which I had toiled under the sun, seeing that I must leave it to those who come after me and who knows whether they will be wise or foolish? Yet they will be master of all for which I toiled and used my wisdom under the sun. This also is vanity.

What a gloomy picture the philosopher paints in Ecclesiastes.

Even if one works hard and does well, what is the point – Those who come after may not be at all careful with the results of one’s labour.

So why bother?

In the words of Eeyore – it’s just “another gloomy day”.

Fortunately, when we come to our gospel reading, we meet something much more optimistic – a completely different outlook on life – a farmer who had done well, who has had a good year, and who wants to capitalize on his hard work and prosperity.

Surely there is nothing wrong with that?

It seems perfectly natural to want to make the most of something that has been achieved by hard work and commitment.

Indeed, we even have biblical precedent for such good stewardship:

Joseph, at the time of a predicted famine in Egypt was encouraged, by God, to save in the good years, to enable provision for the lean years.

So, what is the difference here?

Why has this parable become known as the parable of the Rich fool?

Is it foolish to look ahead?

Is it foolish to plan well for the future?

Of course it’s not.

Why then did Jesus end the parable with these words:

But God said to him, 'You fool! This very night your life is being demanded of you. And the things you have prepared, whose will they be?'

So it is with those who store up treasures for themselves but are not rich toward God."

So it is with those who store up treasures for themselves but are not rich toward God."

What is being condemned in this passage is not prosperity but priority.

Of course Jesus isn’t condemning the farmer’s hard work.

OR his satisfaction at his achievement.

What Jesus is condemning is the priorities he sets.

Priorities that are more about consolidating than about sharing.

More about gathering in than about spreading out.

More about living the good life than living the blessed life.

God does not condemn any of us for being good stewards, particularly in the affairs of the kingdom, but God is concerned that, when our hard work pays off, whether in the lean years or the prosperous years, that we will get our priorities right and concentrate on blessings rather than on possessions.

That our focus will not be on becoming bigger and better so that we can take it easy but that our priority will always be to serve God as best we can by serving God’s people.

This parable speaks to this people in Castlehill church today.

A people who began worship together in a barn.

A people who, at God’s prompting built bigger and better barns.

A people, some of that generation and many of the next generation, who have priorities to set today about our witness and our worship in this time and place.

God speaks to us today.

Those words of Jesus about being, first of all rich toward God, call us to account today.

To make sure we get the priorities right.

So that before we look to the good life, we first of all ensure that we seek to live a blessed life.

Sharing with others the prosperity that we know.

Even in these days of economic recession.

Even in these days when government predictions are all about further cuts and higher taxation.

Especially in these days, God prompts us to get our priorities right.

It’s not that it’s wrong to be proud of where we are, of what we have achieved – and the achievements of those who have gone before us.

We have much to celebrate.

There’s nothing wrong with that.

But what is important is the priorities we set for the future, building on those blessings that we have known.

Still we are called to serve this parish and this community.

Still we are called to reach out to those around us – to share our wealth, to share our blessings.

As the demands around us increase, as our buildings demand more time and money and effort, it is tempting to think we can draw back from serving in order to consolidate what we have.

That’s when God tells us: you fools.

Because the whole point of building a bigger barn, in God’s eyes, is to serve better.

To reach out more.

To grow, not our own empire but the kingdom of God.

All around us the world calls for a drawing back.

A consolidating of all that we have, to see us through the lean years we are experiencing and that are predicted.

Even in the National church, the call seems to be about consolidation – cutting the number of ministers, cutting the number of buildings, preserving reserves.

Today’s parable runs at odds with the philosophy of today.

As controversial now as it was when Jesus told it.

Our priorities have to be different from those of the world.

Our priority has to be a willingness to share and to share again, not just to keep the roof over our heads, but to serve those who are our neighbours.

To serve a community in which folk are struggling, folk whom we are called to serve, folk with whom we have more than enough to share, if only we can get our priorities right.

So, where are we this morning?

Are we with the philosopher in Ecclesiastes, declaring “vanity of vanities, all is vanity” ?

Why should we be careful when those who come after may not be?

Or are we heeding Jesus’ parable to get our priorities right.

To put first the Kingdom of God.

What use is this fine barn if God’s people are not being fed?

What good is our fine history if we cannot use our prosperity in the service of the Kingdom of God?

But God said to him, 'You fool! This very night your life is being demanded of you. And the things you have prepared, whose will they be?'

So it is with those who store up treasures for themselves but are not rich toward God."

Breathing a prayer

Genesis 10: 20-32
Luke 11: 1-13

Today's readings speak of relationships emboldening prayer.
Abraham was able to barter with God over the souls of the righteous in Sodom and Gomorrah because he was assured that the God he confronted was a God of compassion and of love.
When Jesus taught about prayer, at his disciples' behest, he didn't merely give a formula, albeit a formula that takes in the whole of creation and desires justice and wholeness. But Jesus went even further than that. He placed his teaching within the context of relationships. Jesus acknowledged that it's easier to give - and to receive - when we know the one who makes the requests or when we trust the one of whom we ask.
So prayer is not about rule or rote or posture or position but about relationship and trust.
And the God of all creation invites intimacy.
I was very conscious of that intimacy last week in Switzerland.
As each day's beauty literally took my breath away I felt as close to God as breathing.
Surrounded by such majesty, how could the God of all nature be more than a heart beat away?

This sense of the amazing presence of God came into very real focus one evening, high up on a Swiss mountain as the gentleman pictured played Go tell it on the mountain on the alpine horn.
I discovered later that Fritz was, for forty years, bandmaster in the Salvation Army. We encountered him providing musical entertainment on a Swiss cultural evening.
For Fritz, it was just another opportunity to witness to the God who is very real for him.
He did that simply, through beautiful music played in an awesome setting.
Confident that the God he knew was close enough to be revealed in majesty.
The God of all creation encourages us into relationship and invites us to get as close as breathing so that every breath is a prayer.
Thanks be to God.

The mantle of love

A short reflection based on this mornings OT reading - 2 Kings 2: 1-14
This reflection was punctuated by a vuvuzela!

(Vuvuzela blast)

We could do with a few of these punctuating our reading this morning.

(Blast)

These vuvzelas.
People either love them or hate them
They’ve become a constant accompaniment to the World Cup action in South Africa.

(blast)

In our Old Testament reading this morning, a few of these would, perhaps shake things up a bit.
Because there’s a conspiracy of silence.

It’s time for Elisha to take over from the old prophet Elijah who has been his mentor, taught him everything he knows.
But, every time someone tries to talk to Elisha about it, they’re told Wheesht… Let’s not talk about it.

Elisha is adopting that age old coping strategy that we’ve all adopted at some time – if we don’t talk about it, it might never happen.
Or – if we ignore it, it will go away.

How often have you done that?

How often has it worked?
It doesn’t work, does it?
In fact, often, not confronting things simply makes them worse.

It’s very understandable.
When we imagine something to be unpleasant, then we’d rather avoid facing it.
But it seldom goes away – and by the time we face up to things, they’re worse than they might otherwise have been.
Or, occasionally, they’re actually not nearly as bad as we feared.
So all our worrying has been a waste of energy.

That’s how it panned out with Elisha.
He couldn’t change the fact that he was to take over from Elijah.
And, actually, when that moment came, it turned out to be phenomenal.
Elisha witnessed his mentor being taken up into heaven in a chariot in a whirlwind – he witnessed the miraculous power of God.
And then, he came to realise that he had been given that same spirit that Elijah had – in double measures.
The moment he had feared.
The moment he had done his best to avoid.
Became one of the greatest moments of his life.

I wonder if that’s ever been your experience?
That something you dreaded not just turned out OK, but turned out much better than you could ever have imagined?

As people of faith, it shouldn’t really surprise us, though it does constantly.
The God in whom we trust IS amazing.
And often things in life are transformed beyond our imagining by the power of that amazing God.
Things we worry about.
Things we stress over.
Don’t go away.
But are often transformed when we commit them to God.

Elisha saw Elijah being taken up to heaven on a chariot pulled by horses in the midst of a whirlwind.
The stuff of fantasy.
The kind of imagery that we shy away from because it is just too fantastical for this modern age in which we live.
And yet, our experience of life tells us that magical things DO happen.
That life can be turned around in ways that we would never have expected.

It may not be cool.
But we can believe in miracles.

Be it the miracle that England is still in the world cup.
Or the miracle that the God who is revealed in our remarkable scripture reading in a whirlwind today, still participates in our everyday lives.

Everyday is punctuated by miracles.
We can choose to see them and share them.
Or we can indulge in that conspiracy of silence.

But still the God of miracles will invade our everyday and transform the world around us.

In our sacrament (of baptism) this morning, we celebrated the miracle of new life.
And celebrated the miracle that God loves us even before we can respond or even begin to understand that love.
The love of God follows us all through life.
When we acknowledge God’s love.
And when we don’t.
God’s love is there for us.
And so, whatever may afflict us in life.
Whatever worries we may be hiding.
The love of God surrounds us and upholds us.
Our pain may not be taken from us.
Our anxiety may not disappear.
But our lives can be transformed just knowing that the God of miracles cares for us all through life.

God did not reassure Elisha that all would be well.
In fact, Elisha was kept in suspense right to the end.
To the moment he parted the waters of the Jordan, he couldn’t be sure whether he had received the gift of the spirit of Elijah.

Believing in a God of miracles does not ensure that our lives will be easy or pain free.
But that faith does bring us a reassurance that we can face whatever comes our way in life, that we will have the resources to endure, in the knowledge that we are surrounded by a God whose name is love.

Today’s reading speaks into our lives as individuals.

What are the things of which we dare not speak?

What are the things we are afraid to confront?


And today’s reading speaks into our life as the church together in this place.

What is it we’re afraid to face up to.

What is it we maintain silence on so that we won’t upset the apple cart.

Immersing ourselves in silence will not resolve anything.

Being people of faith, called as we are to take up the mantle of the Spirit of God demands that we be courageous and face up to the challenges that meet us in life.

Face up to challenges knowing that the God of love goes before us and carries us to places we could never imagine.

(Vuvuzela.)


Let’s wake up to the challenges surrounding us – and to the God who accompanies us through all of life.

Amen