Have No Fear

Ta da! I'm getting the sermon up on time! Yippee! Just the pastoral prayer to write and I'm good for tomorrow! Thanks be to God!

The Sermon Today, Matthew 14:22-33
July 27, 2008
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Have No Fear
Immediately he made the disciples get into the boat and go on ahead to the other side, while he dismissed the crowds. 23And after he had dismissed the crowds, he went up the mountain by himself to pray. When evening came, he was there alone, 24but by this time the boat, battered by the waves, was far from the land, for the wind was against them. 25And early in the morning he came walking toward them on the sea. 26But when the disciples saw him walking on the sea, they were terrified, saying, “It is a ghost!” And they cried out in fear. 27But immediately Jesus spoke to them and said, “Take heart, it is I; do not be afraid.” 28Peter answered him, “Lord, if it is you, command me to come to you on the water.” 29He said, “Come.” So Peter got out of the boat, started walking on the water, and came toward Jesus. 30But when he noticed the strong wind, he became frightened, and beginning to sink, he cried out, “Lord, save me!” 31Jesus immediately reached out his hand and caught him, saying to him, “You of little faith, why did you doubt?” 32When they got into the boat, the wind ceased. 33And those in the boat worshiped him, saying, “Truly you are the Son of God.”

What a great story! This is one of those stories that has everything—danger, drama, heroism, failure, redemption—and lots of places for us to insert ourselves into the story. In other words, there’s plenty of room for all of us to sit in this boat. The question is, do we stay in the boat, or do we jump out?
Before we start with the story, let’s take a little time to paint the background. Like most Bible stories, we have to spend some time exploring the world of the participants before we can start to really get a handle on the nuances of what was really happening here.
Let’s start by reminding ourselves about some of the basic physical facts of the story. Before it even begins, everyone involved is exhausted. Jesus has been teaching crowds of people all day. This is not your basic one, or even two, hour church service, but non-stop teaching and healing that lasted long enough for the people to start to feel faint from hunger. They were so drained, in fact, that even if they had wanted to leave, the disciples were concerned that they wouldn’t even make it to the nearest village to obtain food, much less make it all the way to their homes. And if all these people had showed up at once, any normal village wouldn’t have enough food available to feed them and then what would happen. The last thing they wanted was for Jesus to be seen as responsible for setting off food riots
And if the people listening were this exhausted, how must Jesus and the disciples have felt? While Jesus was teaching and healing, the disciples were stuck with all the hassles of crowd management—crying kids, cranky adults, hygiene, heat, shade, water, complaints, requests, keeping people in line, negotiating disputes, you name it. Jesus, we know, had been exhausted before he started so you can imagine how he felt at the end of the day. He had come to this deserted place in the first place to get away from the crowds and recharge his batteries.
Then there had come the miraculous feeding of the crowd, which had stirred things up even more and made it more difficult to convince people to leave. Finally, finally, they had gotten everyone on the road home, they had picked up all the trash and they could finally take a break. I imagine that all the disciples wanted to do was sit on rocks and stare at each other. Jesus, however, was so tired that he couldn’t even do that. All he wanted was to be totally alone, just him and God.
So, he made his reluctant disciples climb into their boat, grab the oars or the sails, and head back across the Sea of Galilee. Some translations call this body of water a lake, but it’s important to the story to understand that, as lakes go, this is a really big one. It’s about 11 miles long, and about 8 miles across at its widest point. Unlike the lakes we have here in Oklahoma, it is big enough that, when standing on the shore, you can’t see across to the other side. So crossing the lake was no small proposition.
I don’t know how the disciples thought he was going to catch up to them. Maybe get a ride from another boat down the road, maybe they were planning to come back and get him the next day. All we know for sure is that he didn’t go with them that night.
And that’s another thing. Most of us don’t remember, or have ever known, what really dark nights are like. When was the last time you were outside and so far away from civilization that there was no glow from a nearby city reflecting up on the horizon? I’ve only been in a place like that once or twice in my life, and always it was out in the middle of the ocean. I never knew what dark nights were like or how many stars there were in the night sky until those nights. But for Jesus and the disciples, that’s what night meant. And dark was coming on when Jesus sent them out.
There’s one more thing that we need to know to really get an good handle on this story. It is that in the ancient world, large bodies of water were really scary places. They were the very symbol of complete and total chaos. When God had brought order to every part of the world, the oceans were still chaotic. In their world view, every place outside a city or village was a place of danger. There were dangerous animals and dangerous people in the wilderness. That’s why so many people assumed that John the Baptist was just a little bit crazy to live there by choice, because no one in their right mind would. If you were alone, and something happened, you probably died. There was no way to call for help, and too few people around to think you would be found in time. And, of all these dangerous, isolated, places, seas were the most dangerous, the most isolated, the most chaotic. They were literally regarded as places where anything could happen, and none of it was good.
So, these tired, hungry, nervous disciples set sail, at night, across the sea, with no instruments, without the one who they depended on for protection and guidance, off they go into the unknown. And then the storm comes up. Have you ever had one of those days? I’m sure the disciples certainly felt like this was one of those nights.
How long they struggled against the winds and the waves, no one knows. Certainly long enough that now they were soaking wet, shivering with cold and completely convinced they were probably going to die. Some may have been rowing, because certainly the sails were down by now, some may have been bailing water, some may have just been sitting there in despair. We know that they had been on the water for several hours, at least, because Jesus came walking toward them across the water during the fourth watch—or sometime between 3 and 6 in the morning. In other words, they were at the end of their rope. Have you ever noticed how often we have to get to the end of our rope before we can let go and let God help us? It’s like we refuse to let go as long as we have resources and options of our own available.
Anyway, here they all are, on the tip end of their last bare nerve and someone says, “It’s a ghost, or a demon!” Now they are convinced that they are truly done for. Out here in the middle of the most evil place on earth, it could only be an evil spirit coming to get them. And then they hear the voice that they know so well. It’s Jesus. Or at least it sounds like Jesus. What if it’s an imitation? A fake? A clever trick by the evil one to get them to let down their guard. When you’re verging on hysteria, anything seems possible.
So Peter speaks up, “Lord, if it is you…”
I love Peter. We get the most complete picture of him in Matthew—almost like Matthew got many of these stories from Peter himself. Who else would dare tell such stories about the great Peter, leader of the infant church? But I can hear Peter saying, “Go ahead, write it all down, just like it happened. Don’t pull any punches. I’ve got plenty of flaws, although too many people don’t remember that these days. Don’t pretty it up, just tell the whole story.
Peter, so impetuous, so transparent. I think he appeals to us so much because he is such a real character. He always jumped in to everything feet first, is it any surprise that he did so here? We’ve already talked about how the goal of a rabbi’s disciples was to be exactly like him, well this was certainly Peter’s chance. This was his chance to be just like Jesus. Now it’s a little risky, so he asks permission first. Do you want me to do this Lord? Do you believe I can do this? And I imagine that Jesus paused for a minute, and then said, “Sure, come on.”
So Peter jumps, he lands, and he doesn’t sink! One step, then another, then another. Hey, this is great! I’m walking on the water!
So what made Peter start looking around? Maybe a giant thunderclap or bolt of lightening? Whatever it was, he suddenly realizes where he is? Have you ever done that? Started something and then, about halfway into it, realized exactly what you were doing? Suddenly you realize that maybe you can’t really pull this off. Maybe this is too big. That’s what Peter thought, and when he thought that, when he started focusing on his own abilities, it began to overwhelm him.
Fortunately, Peter is sometimes smarter than we are. As soon as he started to sink, he didn’t try to learn to swim, he didn’t panic, he didn’t try to suck it up and put a good face on it. He just turned to Jesus. “Help me!” You know, Anne Lamott speaks often of her two favorite prayers, “Help me, help me, help me!” and “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Not a bad prayer vocabulary, and certainly both of those were Peter’s favorites that day.
And Jesus responded, and reached out, and picked him up. Yes, Jesus did chastise Peter, but I think it might have been pretty gently. Yes, Peter doubted—not Christ but himself. But even with that doubt, Jesus still reached out and pulled him out of the soup. He didn’t hold it against him. He didn’t say, “If I pull you out, how will you learn to swim?” He didn’t say, “OK, but you’re off the island.” He just pulled him up and brought him to the boat, where the others still waited. Safely. In the boat.
You know, all my life I’ve heard this story told, and all my life, Peter comes out as some sort of doofus for not making it all the way. But more and more I admire Peter. Especially these days, when our little corner of the world is safer than it has ever been, and yet all that seems to do is make us more fearful. Because our lives are stable, we fear uncertainty. Because we have plenty, we fear loss. Because our lives are secure, we fear risk. So we stay in the boat.
But not Peter. All he had was Jesus, and that was enough. That was enough for him to risk everything to do the impossible. Yes, Peter didn’t make it all the way, but dear Lord, please make us all more like Peter.
In the name of the Creator, the Redeemer and the Sustainer—The Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Amen

Oops

Running late again, but not as late as last week. In fact, last week feels like a total waste. Nevertheless, here is yesterday's sermon.

Matthew 13:24-30, 36-43
July 20, 2008
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Oops!
He put before them another parable: “The kingdom of heaven may be compared to someone who sowed good seed in his field; but while everybody was asleep, an enemy came and sowed weeds among the wheat, and then went away. So when the plants came up and bore grain, then the weeds appeared as well. And the slaves of the householder came and said to him, ‘Master, did you not sow good seed in your field? Where, then, did these weeds come from?’ He answered, ‘An enemy has done this.’ The slaves said to him, ‘Then do you want us to go and gather them?’ But he replied, ‘No; for in gathering the weeds you would uproot the wheat along with them. Let both of them grow together until the harvest; and at harvest time I will tell the reapers, Collect the weeds first and bind them in bundles to be burned, but gather the wheat into my barn.’”
Then he left the crowds and went into the house. And his disciples approached him, saying, “Explain to us the parable of the weeds of the field.” He answered, “The one who sows the good seed is the Son of Man; the field is the world, and the good seed are the children of the kingdom; the weeds are the children of the evil one, and the enemy who sowed them is the devil; the harvest is the end of the age, and the reapers are angels. Just as the weeds are collected and burned up with fire, so will it be at the end of the age. The Son of Man will send his angels, and they will collect out of his kingdom all causes of sin and all evildoers, and they will throw them into the furnace of fire, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth. Then the righteous will shine like the sun in the kingdom of their Father. Let anyone with ears listen!

Earlier this week, this story appeared in the English newspaper, The Telegraph:
Oops -- Scientist Blowtorch Weedkiller Burns Neighbor's YardRobert Gailey, 79, watched in horror as sparks from a gas-powered garden tool caused the lawn and shrubs of his neighbours, Stuart and Phyliss McLean, to catch light.Mr Gailey had been using a Weed Wand, a £20 hand-held flaming device which burns weeds, to treat the driveway of his semi-detached home in Paisley, Renfrewshire.Within seconds, the McLeans's manicured lawn and evergreen trees were aflame and Mr Gailey's wife, Mary, called the Fire Brigade.
The story goes on to include warnings from the local fire chief about how dangerous it is for people to use devices like this in their garden.
But obviously, this gentleman was so focused on getting rid of all the weeds in his garden, that he completely lost sight of the larger picture.
I think this news story tells us something about human nature, and I think that in this parable, Jesus is reminding us of something similar. He talks of a farmer who plants good wheat in his field, only to be told by his field hands when the seeds start to sprout that there are large amounts of weeds mingled in with the wheat.
Now, how they know this I’m not sure, because Biblical scholars are pretty clear that the weed referred to is a plant widespread in Palestine called darnel. That doesn’t really mean much to us, but this is a pretty insidious, tricky little weed. One of the things that make it so hard to deal with is that as it grows, it looks exactly like wheat. They are indistinguishable from one another through most of their growth cycle. In fact, the only way you can tell wheat from darnel is that when the stalks start to mature, darnel has tiny little black seeds in its head instead of regular wheat berries. Another trick that darnel has, is that as it grows, it’s roots entwine themselves around the wheat roots, so that it is physically impossible to pull up the darnel without pulling up the wheat as well.
So, how these laborers knew that there was darnel growing in with the wheat and what they thought they were really going to be able to do about it, is beyond me. And apparently the farmer had a few of the same concerns, because it told them to just leave the weeds where they were, and they would sort them out at harvest. I’m pretty sure that the laborers weren’t all too happy with those instructions, because they obviously thought they knew what needed to be done. Nevertheless, it was the farmer who owned the field, the wheat, and even the weeds. So they let them be.
No, I’m sure that the field hands weren’t happy about those instructions at all. Because the reality is, humans are great little weeders. All too often in human history we can see the places where the weeders have gone to town, making sure that everything is just as it should be. How many of the worst acts of human history have begun as just a little weeding here and there? Just a little ethnic cleansing, just getting rid of a few witches, or rebels, or malcontents.
See, that’s the killer. Every time we start focusing on getting rid of the weeds, what we end up doing is destroying the crop. How many nations have been torn apart by persecutions? How many churches have split over doctrinal questions? How many communities have been torn apart by social issues? How many families have been ripped to shreds by disagreements over hair, dress, politics or religion? Our very own Methodist church split 150 years ago over the question of slavery. And the really, really sad thing about it was, both sides truly believed that they were the wheat and the other guys were the weeds. The slave churches and the free churches both knew they were right and all they were doing was getting rid of those other guys who were so wrong that they were evil. Sometimes I wonder what question in the church today is our slavery issue?
And let us never forget, very people who had Jesus crucified were doing what they thought was right. It wasn’t personal animosity, they were just trying to keep their faith community pure and keep evil from taking root. Just a little weeding.
That’s the thing about wheat and weeds. We really can’t always, or even often, tell the difference. All we can see is the outside, not the fruit inside. Often, what we see as threatening is just the beginning of one of God’s new plantings. It looks strange and alien to us, so we decide it must be a weed and needs to be pulled up. But oops, we were, in all good faith, wrong. So God tells us to wait, don’t focus on the weeds. The world, after all, belongs to God, and the church is the work of the Holy Spirit. Not us.
I have this image of a world where the weeders are running things, and it looks like this. I see all these people feverishly working in an empty field, frantic to pull up every little green shoot because it might be a weed. The field is absolutely clear. It is also barren and dead.
What’s the difference between a clean, but barren field and one full of wheat? Focus. Where do we put our attention? What drives us?
See that’s what the farmer understood. The farmer knew that while his workers were focused on destroying the weeds, who would be taking care of the wheat? More and more, as I read and study scripture, I come to believe that God doesn’t issue us a negative call to save the world from evil, but to join in God’s work of bringing good to the world.
It is so easy to stay busy looking at the weeds, we forgot to focus on being wheat. We get so wrapped up in rooting out evil that it sucks up all our energy and there’s nothing left to build a better world with. Instead of nourishing the wheat, we just worry about killing the weeds. It’s so tempting to focus on destruction, not creation.
But what Jesus is telling us here is that the point is not to worry so much about the weeds, but to be strong and fertile wheat
· To focus on the sun that brings light and life
· To dig down deep roots into the ground of our being
· To soak up the rain that God sends on both the wheat and the weeds
· and to ultimately produce the fruit, the grain that will nourish a hungry world and give life to more wheat.
Does this mean that we should never speak out against evil? Absolutely not. We cannot ever, ever turn our back on those in need, those suffering from injustice and cruelty, those who feel lost and alone. But neither can we forget that rooting out evil is not the point. Jesus doesn’t call us to purify the world—according to whatever standers of purity we choose to endorse—but to spread the good news, by both word and deed. This is being the wheat. Our role is to nourish—everyone, everywhere. We will probably nourish more than a few weeds along the way as well, but that’s OK. God will sort it all out in the end.
I’ve mentioned several times that Pat and I have attempted a garden this summer for the first time in years. And I’ve admitted pretty freely that it has not been a great success. Not horrible, but certainly nothing to brag about. It won’t feed the family. What I haven’t mentioned is the grass in the front lawn. We have great grass. Deep and thick and green when all the lawns around us have started to turn brittle and brown. All grass, no weeds. And if you ever got a good look at what we call a flower garden in the front, you would know just how miraculous that is.
The truth, however, is that we’re not really responsible for the lawn, but owe it all to this wonderful man who comes every so often to fertilize it for us. And that’s what he does, spread fertilizer, not pesticides or herbicides. The reason, he told us, is that he has learned over the years that the best way to have a great lawn is to grow great grass—grass that is so healthy that weeds can’t get a start. This is what we are called to do. Grow great grass.

Freezing, Drying and Mediating

So, the preserving is going well. Saturday evening I put 1 quart of the blackberries into a cobbler and the rest into cobbler-sized freezer bags, so those are taken care of. Yesterday, we sliced up a dehydrator-sized batch of peaches and got them going, and then put over half of the rest into freezer bags and the rest into holding into the fridge, so those are going. I also got the purple-hulled peas shelled and into the freezer, so all that's good. Still haven't touched the corn--except for the ear the dog ate, cob and all, so we'll have to get working on that tonight. At least it sounds productive, and I can feel virtuous at least for a little while.

On the knitting front, well that's pretty boring right now. Nothing that I'm really excited about, although I do seem to be churning out quite a lot of prayer wraps of various sorts right now, so that's good. I wish someone at this new church would get interested in being a part of that so it isn't so much just my thing.

Speaking of the new church, what in the world do you do with people who are apparently ready to go to blows over window blinds, of all things? Obviously, I need to find out more of what's behind all that.

So, I need to get rolling. I want to take communion out to my home-bound people this week. Apparently that hasn't been offered to them for a long time so I guess I'll just offer it and see if they want it or not. If so, I'd like to see that it gets to them regularly.

One last thing. Here's my sermon for yesterday. I didn't get it posted earlier. Yesterday turned out much more interesting than anyone expected since we lost power right in the middle of service! Good thing it's a small building and I have a lot of experience talking really, really loudly.

Matthew 11: 16-19, 25-30
July 6, 2008
Cashion United Methodist Church

Scripture Reference:
Matthew 11:16-19, 25-30
11:16 "But to what will I compare this generation? It is like children sitting in the marketplaces and calling to one another,
11:17 'We played the flute for you, and you did not dance; we wailed, and you did not mourn.'
11:18 For John came neither eating nor drinking, and they say, 'He has a demon';
11:19 the Son of Man came eating and drinking, and they say, 'Look, a glutton and a drunkard, a friend of tax collectors and sinners!' Yet wisdom is vindicated by her deeds."
11:25 At that time Jesus said, "I thank you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, because you have hidden these things from the wise and the intelligent and have revealed them to infants;
11:26 yes, Father, for such was your gracious will.
11:27 All things have been handed over to me by my Father; and no one knows the Son except the Father, and no one knows the Father except the Son and anyone to whom the Son chooses to reveal him.
11:28 "Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest.
11:29 Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.
11:30 For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light."

Can I Help You With That?

This is one of those great scripture passages that you here over and over in and around churches. It’s been referenced in songs, stories and sermons since Christians started being Christians. And, like last week’s passage, sometimes we’ve heard it so many times that we don’t always really hear what Jesus is saying.
He starts out by comparing the people around him to some bored, whiny kids hanging out in the center of town. They don’t know what they want, just that whatever anyone suggests is not it. They are dissatisfied and restless, and they have no idea what to do about it. I think we hear some of Jesus’ frustration with those who ‘just don’t get it’ coming through. In fact, he says it’s not that they can’t get it, but that they just don’t want to that’s the real problem. They want to know God, but only on their terms.
John the Baptist, he says, came like the stereotypical Old Testament prophet of the stories—wild hair, unshaven, bizarre clothing—ranting and raving about the status quo, preaching hellfire and brimstone. All the things they had been led to expect of a prophet. But instead of leading a reformation or rebellion, John ended up beheaded. Not what they had expected from a prophet at all.
Then Jesus came. Much more of a people person. Healing, preaching, going out to dinner, leading disciples around the country, interpreting the scriptures in a new and intriguing way. Very much like what they would expect from a revered teacher and religious leader. Of course, there was that troublesome tendency of his to go out to dinner with the wrong people. And he did tend to be a little hard on the moral and religious people. Yes, what he said sounded good, sometimes, but there were some real concerns that this Jesus guy had some real behavior issues that they just couldn’t get around. Not the right sort of person at all.
And so, Jesus says, what exactly do you want? What they wanted, of course, was a tame God. A God who would fit into their boundaries and live by the rules they had all grown up with and gotten used to. A God who they were comfortable with. A God who would behave predictably. And certainly not one who would challenge not just the authorities, because who doesn’t grouse about the government sometimes, but each of them, right where they live.
The problem, of course, is that God cannot be tamed and put into a box. God cannot be predicted or controlled by us. God is not our pet, but our Lord. And this God, as embodied by Jesus, many of them could not and would not accept.
But then Jesus goes on, and does something even more upsetting. He issues an open invitation to anyone who wishes to be his disciple!
Now, that doesn’t sound like such a big deal to us, but it really was. You see, in many ways, Jesus acted just like the roaming, teaching rabbis who were so common back then. And those rabbis would, as they gained some notice, begin to acquire disciples who studied both the teacher and their teachings and would eventually go out on their own and spread those same teachings. Now this was actually a highly prized position, and there were lots of applicants to be disciples of a rabbi—the more important the rabbi, the more applicants. And these rabbis were pretty picky about who they would choose to follow them. You had to pass at least two levels of schooling, graduating at the top of your class at each level to be allowed to continue. Then, if you managed that, the rabbi would submit you to grueling questioning to see if you were gifted, talented and determined enough to qualify as his student. So, rabbi’s disciples were, quite literally, the best of the best of the best.
Of course, Jesus had already upset that applecart by recruiting not gifted students, but the washouts—fishermen, tax collectors, guys hanging out on street corners—to follow him. But now, he goes even further and invites anyone who wishes to come follow his way.
That’s what the part about the yoke means. Students of a given rabbi were said to wear that rabbi’s yoke, a reference to that thing oxen wore to plow the fields. A disciple of a rabbi, one who wore his yoke, strove to learn and understand everything their rabbi had to say. Ultimately, of course, these students wanted to be the rabbi. Exactly like the rabbi. Now most of these teachings were different interpretations about how best to please God by following his instructions. How far exactly could you walk on the Sabbath? How many times did you have to forgive someone? How much grain to leave in the fields for gleaners?
Now this may sound trivial to us, but these people were honestly and sincerely working very hard to try and please God. And they wanted so much to get it right, they were so concerned about getting it wrong, that they made it very, very hard. So hard that sometimes following the teachings did indeed become a burden.
Then Jesus comes along. He doesn’t take the cream of the crop for his disciples. And he goes on, right here he to upset all the rules and invite everyone to follow him, no questions asked. And then he goes even farther. His yoke, he says, isn’t a heavy burden. It’s light. Following Jesus is a path of joy. Because it’s not about following the rules. It’s not about agonizing about always doing the correct thing. Jesus is calling people away from religion as a set of rules to follow and to a new place. A place of being freed and transformed from the inside out by a creating and nurturing God. A place with only two rules—love God and love your neighbor. This is the yoke that our rabbi call us to bear. And it is in thanksgiving and joy that we embrace this gift today as we participate in the sacrament of holy communion.
In the name of the Creator, Redeemer and Sustainer—the Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Amen.

I just listened to the most wonderful presentation by Phyllis Tickle. She preached this week at Mars Hill Bible Church and I picked it up on their weekly podcast. The main focus was on the seven most ancient of the spiritual disciplines, but she also spent a great deal of time talking about how religions, at least the Abrahamic ones, seem to go through 500 year cycles. At the end of each cycle, the church seems to shake itself loose from calcifications that it has picked up along the way and emerge, like a butterfly--to use a really trite image--new and fresh, with a fresh excitement and energy. She believes, and I agree, that the current emergence is just such a breaking loose and I am so excited to be blessed to be a part of it. What grace that God put me in this time! Yes, it can be scary, and I'm sure that we as a church and individuals will stumble some in wrong directions, and I probably won't live to see how it all shakes out, but what fun to get to be a part of it.

I really recommend that you listen to her talk. If you don't already get the podcast, you can pick it up here. I would love to hear what you think about it.

Just a Cup?
Matthew 10:40-42
June 29, 2008

Scripture Reference:
Matthew 10:40-42
10:40 "Whoever welcomes you welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes the one who sent me.
10:41 Whoever welcomes a prophet in the name of a prophet will receive a prophet's reward; and whoever welcomes a righteous person in the name of a righteous person will receive the reward of the righteous;
10:42 and whoever gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones in the name of a disciple -- truly I tell you, none of these will lose their reward."


Those of us who have been around church and Sunday School for a while have heard this scripture before, probably several times. And, as often as not, any discussion of the text usually centers on the theme of hospitality and making others welcome, or reaching out to people who make us uncomfortable because of our love of Christ. But we’ve already kind of covered these topics, so I’d like to talk this morning about a couple of other ideas that compel me about this text.
The first comes through most clearly in a different translation of the text, the Message. It goes like this:
40-42"We are intimately linked in this harvest work. Anyone who accepts what you do, accepts me, the One who sent you. Anyone who accepts what I do accepts my Father, who sent me. Accepting a messenger of God is as good as being God's messenger. Accepting someone's help is as good as giving someone help. This is a large work I've called you into, but don't be overwhelmed by it. It's best to start small. Give a cool cup of water to someone who is thirsty, for instance. The smallest act of giving or receiving makes you a true apprentice. You won't lose out on a thing."
I see a couple of things here that I want to share with you. The first is where it says “Accepting someone’s help is as good a giving someone help.” Hmm. Now isn’t that interesting. How many times have we read this and just bleeped right over this part without thinking about it. Sometimes welcoming a righteous person is making space for them in your home or your life, but often this makes us uncomfortable. In fact, sometimes being around a truly good person is harder than being around a scumbag. At least you can feel superior to the scumbag. But the righteous person accepts you just the way you are and if you have a need, they want to help you. Whether you want to admit that you want their help or not. It’s really humbling to let someone else help you.
It’s even harder when the person who wants to help you is in worse shape than you are. How hard it is to graciously accept hospitality or an extra hand from someone who just barely has the resources to get by, much less help you. But in accepting help, you give them a gift back. Not only are you helped and blessed, but you give them the opportunity to bless you. And if the help they offer is to work together with you to bless someone else, then all three of you are blessed. It takes a little humbling on our part, sometimes, but allowing others to help us, either by meeting our need or by sharing our work to help others, is allowing a small gift to be multiplied many times over.
That brings me to my second thought about this passage, and another of those themes that I see running hither and yon all through the Bible. It’s that God seldom asks us to start out doing the big things. I mean, sure, a few people like Moses got the really big jobs right off the bat. But most of the time what God asks from us is the little things.
In 2 Kings, the Old Testament tells us of the Shunamite woman who welcomed Elijah every time he passed by, even giving him a room of his own to use whenever he was in the area. In Acts in the New Testament, we hear of Dorcas, who opened her home to anyone in need, providing what food, clothing and shelter she had to anyone who came to her for help. Neither of these women, just two of many examples of giving cited in the Bible, set out to reform the world. They just met the need they saw in front of them. And that’s the same place where Jesus started out his disciples.
When Jesus sends them out in the previous passages, he doesn’t tell them to high-tail it to Jerusalem or Rome. Just go to the nearby villages, the small towns like this one. He doesn’t tell them to start with the rabbi or the mayor, just meet whatever need that God puts in front of them. If someone is sick, he says, heal them. If they haven’t heard the good news, tell them. Show them what I have shown you. Do for them what I have done for you. Share. And I think that’s important. All too often, we let ourselves get paralyzed by the overwhelming need of the world. How can we, we say, feed all the hungry, provide all the medical care, drill all the wells needed, give all the clothes? It’s just too much. And so, overwhelmed, we don’t do anything because we simply don’t know where to start.
Or, we see this huge need and we think, if I try to bring God’s kingdom to this place, if I sign on to work for God, he’s going to ask me to do something bigger than I can do. It’s that old, and so tired excuse, “I’m afraid to put God in charge in my life because he might ask me to be a missionary to Africa.” That is just so lame. Especially in this day and time when the church in Africa is growing much, much faster than the church in America and African churches are starting to send missionaries here. Yes, God could possibly ask you to do something spectacular. But most of the time what God asks of us is not to drop everything and run off to some exotic place. More often, he asks us to do the much harder work of changing the world right around us. The place where he’s already put us. I mean, God put us in this place and this time for a reason, so there must be a job for us to do right here. We just have to open our eyes and see what it is.
The point I believe Jesus is making here to his disciples is that there is nothing too small for God to use. Every gesture, every act of kindness, compassion and obedience done in God’s name is unleashing God’s power of redemption into our sad and broken world.
Nothing is too small.
· It can be a phone call to someone who is lonely or ill or who you just haven’t seen in a while.
· It can be taking the time to really listen to the person in the next cubicle instead of doing the ‘smile and nod’ thing while you think about what you’re going to say or do next.
· It can be buying a pair of Tom’s shoes so that another pair is given to a child in a third world country.
· It can be putting your spare change into a jar for the Heifer Project to provide animals for those in need in almost every country around the world, including America.
· It can be even as small as truly seeing and responding to the cashier at the grocery and paying attention to them as a God’s child and not just an animated part of the store machinery.

In the final analysis, it is paying attention when need, any need, presents itself and then seeing what we can do to meet that need—even if it’s only a hug, a smile, a listening ear, or just prayer.
You see, Jesus does call us to change the world. But Jesus never told us that the way to change the world was to install the right government, vote for the right candidate, contribute to the right causes, lobby for the right politics, found and support the right foundations. The way Jesus sent us out to change the world, is to change the world right at our feet. We provide the opening. God changes the world. And yes, some of Jesus’ followers did ultimately address kings and witness to empires. Some created hospitals and built churches and liberated populations. But that’s not where they started. They started with the need in front of them and just followed where God led. And that is what God is calling us to do today.
I want to end by telling you a story.
This story is about Travis Park United Methodist Church in San Antonio, Texas. Travis Park is right in downtown San Antonio. Not in the tourist areas, but just outside them, where the homeless, the addicted and the mentally ill congregate because they have nowhere else to go. We went there on a mission trip once, and this is the story of their church as they told it to me. Travis Park used to be a typical urban church. Most of the people lived in the suburbs and drove in to church on Sundays. Membership was slowly declining as people moved too far away to drive in or passed away and the church had virtually no contact with the neighborhood where it was born. But one day, some of the members looked up and noticed the need on their doorstep. They really didn’t want to start a homeless ministry, that was too big, but they did have a good kitchen and a good basement area that they usually used for church potlucks and fellowship. Why not serve breakfast on Sunday mornings for anyone who cared to come? It wouldn’t take much. It was only breakfast after all.
So they did. They decided to serve a real breakfast—bacon, eggs, toast, the works. That first Sunday, only a handful of people showed up. But word got out on the street pretty quickly that you could get a real breakfast there—not just coffee and donuts but something that could actually get you through the day. And for these people, that was an important consideration.
The next Sunday, there were about 40 people.
The third Sunday, there were 100.
And as the people of Travis Park UMC began to talk with and get to know the people right in their area, they began to ask questions. Is there anything else I can do for you? How can I help you?
And the answers came.
“This is the only pair of pants that I have, and they are about worn through.”
“Well, I’m about the same size as you. I’ll bring you an extra pair of mine next Sunday.”
Or “I have a job interview this week, but I haven’t had a shower in a couple of weeks and I don’t have anywhere to clean up.”
“We have a shower here in the basement, let me see if I can arrange for you to use it before your interview.”
Questions asked, answers given. Needs noticed and needs met.
The next thing you knew, things had changed, not just in the neighborhood, but in the church as well. If you visit Travis Park UMC today you will find a church that’s bursting at the seams. Yes, many people left because they didn’t want ‘those people’ in their church, but more and more and more came. The church has remodeled their basement. They still serve breakfast on Sunday, but they also cook lunch there every day in cooperation with two other churches to deliver meals to homeless in other areas of the city who can’t come to them. They’ve created a whole new shower area that is open every day of the week for people who have no other place to shower. One building that used to be unused space during the week is being transformed into a place where people can rest and spend time and get warm during the day. Some people in the church have become specialists in helping people who’ve lost their IDs and other documentation get it replaced so they can get job. The list goes on and on.
This, to me, is what Jesus has sent us to do. This is the cup of cold water that can change the world. All we have to do is notice who is thirsty.