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I once saw an artist's rough ink drawing of a cross lying on its side. There was a point on the end of the cross, which made it very clearly into a sword, something I had never seen before. So I will ask you to imagine this drawing and the cross with a sharp tip, an instrument of crucifixion changed into a different kind of weapon, a sword. Imagine Jesus standing in front of you, holding his own cross, pointed at you. If you will not lose the cross's point, then maybe my point won't be lost either.
In this era of daily violence and tragic death, that we will even read a verse out loud that uses Jesus' name and authority in connection with, not peace, but sword-brandishing -- this merits some explanation. During a time of zero-tolerance, general over-sensitivity, and high probability of being detained by airport security for the crime of carrying a concealed nail clipper, to say in church that Jesus has come with his weapon drawn is more than some might tolerate.
These words of Jesus are fighting words, though. They got him killed, and not only killed, but killed in the most humiliating way possible in his time. Crucifying people was an oriental invention adopted by the Romans and never used on Roman citizens -- they were the upstanding, good people.
Scholars say that when the Romans had very offensive people to execute, they would use the cross. It was mostly used for traitors, foreigners, and people judged to be without class and valueless to Roman society -- rebels and slaves.
After Roman society heard what he had to say, they easily put Jesus squarely in this category. His scripture interpretation and authoritative demands made them mad. They were the good people, not like this liberal troublemaker. They crucified him because when they heard his words, they boiled over and had to stomp away.
When you hear what the preacher has to say about them, if you don't want get up and stomp away, then I will not have been a very good preacher for you. The question put before a congregation by Jesus' words is this: are we going to be his followers, or only his admirers? Is our great commission to spread the gospel in a way that will keep people happy with us, and make people want to join our church, or to be willing to sustain difficulty to be faithful to what we believe is the truth about Jesus? Are we going to be noble Roman citizens, or rebels and slaves?
Listen to a story: Long, long ago in a land far away, there was a church called the First Market Fellowship. The congregation met on Sundays in a lovely facility, almost brand new, large, and comfortable.
The stained glass windows presented worshippers with constant, impressive Biblical reminders throughout the service. The pews were well-cushioned but not so much as to allow for dozing off. There were screens on both sides of the chancel so that those with poor vision could easily see scripture and hymn texts projected there.
When the offering plates were passed, almost enough was garnered there to maintain the buildings and do missions and ministry work of all kinds. They used a lot of their budget for a full-page ad run every Saturday in the local newspaper, which focused on the scripture for the next day, and listed all the church activities, especially the coffee and donut bar for college and high school students before Sunday School. The ad's central feature was a devotional thought and prayer calendar listing prominent citizens in town, especially politicians, who were church members, with the trademark phrase, "We're at First Market Fellowship, and we're praying for YOU!"
The beloved pastor preached sermons which inspired and moved his congregants. They hated to miss a Sunday and would scramble to secure an audio tape if they did. They knew they would enjoy what he said each week. They were secretly at work planning a surprise gala anniversary roast for him, and they were collecting money to send him with his wife on a cruise and also to renovate their house.
On the other side of town from First Market Fellowship sat a house of worship called United Church of Divine Difficulty. Contrary to what their name might imply, they were not that divine. Their breathtaking gothic sanctuary was situated at a busy intersection downtown, and they expected their proximity to traffic to bring visitors. It did not. It brought indigents and homeless, hungry, un-bathed people in to ask for money. The church administrator kept an envelope in the bottom drawer of her desk with some petty cash in it, and it had to be refilled constantly. Sometimes she impatiently resorted to opening her own wallet just to satisfy these people so they would leave.
The pastor was a recent seminary graduate who had been an excellent student of theology and missions but a poor performer when it came to homiletics. His sermons meant well. He said all the right things in all the wrong ways. Sometimes his point hit home and upset someone enough that he'd hear from them the next day. He had been called to this pastorate following the retirement of a minister who had served there for 36 years, and evidently many long-time church members had retired along with him. They had grown up with the old minister, had spent their lives in his church, and they knew that this new fellow could never be the same. They had left before they had given themselves time to know the new pastor well enough for it to be painful. Most of them had visited First Market Fellowship, just out of curiosity.
The ones remaining were mostly senior citizens, and babies in the nursery meant somebody's grandchildren were visiting. The few younger members had agreed to do something that other churches should do as well: park their cars at the far ends of the lot, so that older members could park closer and not have so far to walk into the building.
United Church of Divine Difficulty was pretty typical. The nominating committee usually managed to convince people to teach Sunday school and let their names be placed on the deacon slate. The finance committee was able to make ends meet and would have easily were it not for the 100-year-old pendant light fixtures in the sanctuary whose oddly shaped bulbs were obsolete, and from time to time a replacement required an outlay roughly the size of the monthly missions budget. No one even wanted to think about the boilers, but they did occasionally speculate at the cost of a locking gate for the front double doors, to keep out the riffraff, and they shook their heads in wonder.
On a Sunday in June, the pastors of these two churches awoke to a pleasant breezy morning and greeted their worshippers with the text we have before us today. The members of First Market Fellowship and United Church of Divine Difficulty listened as their respective preachers held forth with the very words of Jesus himself:
"Friends, it's time to fish or cut bait. Around Jerusalem, they are calling me the Devil, and since I'm your rabbi, they are going to call you even worse names. Prepare yourselves. You can take it." -- said one preacher.
"First, Jesus tells us that if they hate the teacher, they're going to hate his students worse, since they are even less prestigious than he is. We have to be willing to let people dislike us for what we believe." -- said the other.
The first preacher continued, "You know those sparrows you can buy at the corner store for a dollar apiece, they are the least expensive item sold at the grocer's. But God knows it when one of them falls from flight, and it matters to him. So, how much more do you think God knows about you, and how much more do you think you matter?"
"Second, Jesus tells us God cares for us infinitely, and there is no need for worry about our reputation in the face of that." --said the other.
The first preacher went on: "So don't be afraid to say out loud what you believe! In fact, if you DON'T say it out loud, it is a deadly sin! You've got to put your mouth and money where your faith is. Do you believe God values equally white and black people, women and men, poor and rich, educated and ignorant, Republican and Democrat, skinny and fat, old and young? You've got to act like it! Your rules and money trails and schedules and your guest-books have got to look like you do. Or you don't really. And if you don't believe that God values all infinitely, and aren't willing to yell this at the Rotary meeting, then when it comes your time to be vouched for, Jesus won't speak up for you, either."
"Third," said the other preacher, "most of us know in our hearts that we have no intention of fulfilling Jesus' incredible demand. It is a tiny secret we carry with us while pretending to be Christian, but Jesus says we are already exposed before God."
Then the first preacher gave a little history lesson: "It used to be that people who had a dispute with each other would lay some symbol of their sin or wrongdoing, which had caused the dispute, around the neck of a goat, and release it into the wild. The goat carried their error away with it, so they didn't have to be responsible anymore, so they could feel relieved of the burden of guilt. This animal became the SCAPEGOAT. The use of a scapegoat helped to keep the peace. Sure, they were denying who was really to blame. They were letting themselves off the hook. They were glossing over the differences between them and their faults and shortcomings.
We still like scapegoats today. Feels good to blame someone else for what gripes us. Keeps us happy and peaceful with ourselves. If we're really good at it, when we are part of a problem, we can usually distract ourselves from it by pointing to somebody else and discussing what THEY are doing wrong."
The other preacher said, "Forth, Jesus doesn't want anything to do with fake, scapegoat-type peacekeeping between people. He expects that when we tell the truth, we'll be uncomfortable. When we must choose against even our own loved ones in order to be true to our belief about him, he asks us to. If we are baptized followers of him, then water is thicker than blood."
Finally, the first preacher concluded, "We have tried to make it pleasant and easy to be Christians, to think of ourselves as better than others, less sinful, more righteous, that we're the good people, the noble citizens, that our causes are just, that our suffering is holy, that if we think something, then it must be right, and God must agree with us. And Jesus holds his sword at our breastbones and asks us to think of ourselves instead as rebels, and slaves."
The preacher stopped. The eyes of the congregation were upon him. What a powerful sermon, they thought, as they reached for their new melon-colored revised-edition hymnals. It was only 11:50. He had perfect timing.
Across town, at that moment, the other preacher was just as astute at keeping time: "Fifth, Jesus likens us a little to people in Alcoholics Anonymous. He speaks to us as if we are self-addicted. He asks us all to admit and renounce our self-absorption, to choose his multi-step path that leads directly to Calvary, to give up our old lives, to become members of Sinners Anonymous." As the organ swelled to begin the hymn, many of his congregants were thinking…I wish he wouldn't mention alcoholics…the children will ask questions.
Here ends the story of the two churches. You might wonder which of their members reached the restaurants ahead of the crowd that day, or which church is more like us, or what in the world the preachers mean.
You might be thinking that this preacher's problem is going to be that some of these words offended someone. But my biggest problem is that there are too many empty spaces on those pews and too many people who escaped being offended. My biggest problem is that there are too many good people sitting here listening, and the pews are not full enough of people who think of themselves as rebels and slaves. If this hasn't made us a little uncomfortable, then I haven't done what Jesus is calling me to do in this scripture.
Now, if our church could place an ad like First Market Fellowship, what would it say? If we are followers of Jesus and not admirers only, our ad would be likely to put people off. It would invite people to take up their crosses. But the crosses would be taken up on behalf of others, not ourselves. They'd be pointy, sword-like crosses, not those pretty gold and diamond ones we're used to. We would be seen carrying crosses like that around here at church and around town. People would be able to tell we had taken them up, because things like the Soup Kitchen, Professional Women's Clothes Closet, and Children's Shelter would become reality.
If we were a church like United Divine Difficulty, a church of Sinners Anonymous, then the ad would have to warn people that if they joined here, they'd be opening themselves up to name-calling and ridicule. Others would call us heretics. We would have to brace ourselves for the alienation we'd feel at being set apart from our friends at First Market Fellowship, or even United Difficulty. We'd have to face the prospect that we might not get droves of people joining weekly, no matter how great the sermons were or how friendly our people were.
If we consider that baptismal water is really thicker than blood, then our ad would note that our members know one another well, work, play, and socialize together, and many are relatives, but we still disagree with each other about things. Some of these things are important; but most of them are not. We don't let our disagreements separate us, and we don't distract ourselves from our own problems by carrying on about the problems of others. We make room for opinions and decisions that we dislike. We consider that our church and the Kingdom of God are both big enough to contain every sparrow.
And our ad would need to bear the image of a sword, like the cross that artist drew with a pointy tip. We would need to profess that we are just as Baptist as other churches, and can support many differences in theological direction without using exclusivity as a weapon. We can sustain the sharp sweep of Jesus' sword as it comes to rest on our breastbones, and become slaves to those who need us in our city, and rebels to those who denounce the power and mercy of Christ as well. Potential members of our church deserve to be warned as well as Jesus warned his disciples: join our church, and we require you to focus on something other than yourself.
If our church could be like United Church of Divine Difficulty, sitting at a busy downtown intersection where many people walked in, what would we do? Would we have to double our offerings to account for all the money we'd be giving away to needy folks who wandered in? Or would we spend that money on gates and locks? Would we consider every person who came through our doors at least as valuable as God considers a sparrow? Would we know their names when they walked away? Would their lives be any different for having encountered God here, at our church?
Jesus is asking each of us Roman citizens, members in good standing of this church:
…to become his followers and not his admirers only.
…to be willing to get into trouble by obeying him.
…to be willing to do outlandish things that may make other Baptists laugh at us.
…to have the courage to speak what we believe is truth when it is unpopular.
…to bear the dislike of one another, but to look with Jesus' eyes at each other, valuable as sparrows, and to keep our circle unbroken, for the sake of following Jesus.
All you beloved followers of Jesus, cross-carriers, sword-bearers, in the end of the day, this is exactly what Jesus is asking of us: to let our church be his house, with pews full of rebels and slaves. My fellow rebels and slaves, let's not disappoint him.