The World Cup: Fouls

In response to my blog on the World Cup, my sister (may her shadow never grow less) asked: “What about biting? You didn't address biting.” Well, wisdom suggests that I send her a smiley face and say nothing; but what’s the point of wisdom when discussing Association Football? 

I said in the blog I dislike fouls, and I did not like Suarez’s bite at all. Along with almost all soccer fans. But I must admit that it bothers me less than cynical kicks of the knee, which shorten a player’s career, or studs up slides designed to take out the attacking player and perhaps send him to the hospital. Biting offends us because it breaks the invisible barrier between persons and leaves the bitten feeling violated—somewhat the way we feel when someone breaks into our house and we come home to find the door hanging open. But in truth it does relatively little long-term physical damage. 

I remember a match in 2001 in which Roy Keane intentionally injured the Danish player Håland. You can see the tackle here. Keane was apparently taking revenge for an incident three and a half years earlier, in which Håland had accused Keane of faking an injury. Whatever happened between them, such actions seem far worse to me than what Suarez did. The ban on Suarez makes sense to me. The ban on Keane was three games at the time and five more later when he admitted the act was premeditated, but his action seems far worse to me than the biting. 

Many have suggested that Suarez needs the help of a therapist. They may well be right. It makes sense to me at least. But I see so many tackles with studs up, and so many hard jumps into a player (such as the one that put Neymar out of the cup), and so many intentional kicks of the best attacking players (such as Brazil’s defense against Rodriguez) that I don’t understand FIFA’s failure to sanction them equally severely. 

So there you have my thoughts, sister mine. Lois tells me that the world would be a better place if I could run everything, with the appropriate amount of sarcasm in her voice. She is right of course; I would not do nearly as well as the officials have. I would add just one thing: use instant replay with another official monitoring the game. For egregious fouls that the ref misses (the game is so fast), the replay official could notify the referee at any time by radio signal to his earphone that the offending player should be sanctioned at the next break in play. That would have caught Suarez’s bite, and Robbens’ dive, and the Colombian defender's jump into Neymar, and the Brazilian players' kicks of Rodriguez, and so on. When fouling costs the team, the players will stop fouling. Not before.

The World Cup

I love soccer (or football—whichever you want to call it). I love most sports, but I grew up in Zambia and Zimbabwe with soccer. So the World Cup presents me with a problem: Who to cheer for? 

The problem comes because Steinbach and Providence have given me so many friends from around the world. Some of our best friends are German, so I should cheer for Germany. But I remember watching England vs. West Germany in 1966 and Netherlands vs. West Germany in 1974 (both on TV—my first international games on little black and white TV sets). Those games established my European loyalties as a convinced Anglophile. I cheer against Germany, and rejoice that my friends can be glad with Germany’s success. 

We have good friends from Colombia. Lois always enjoys having Colombian students in her English class because they make good classes even better and more enjoyable. So I should cheer for Colombia. But I remember watching Brazil against Italy in 1970—my first game in colour, watching with my soccer-playing friend from college, Dale Engle on his colour TV. I remember Pele (his last game for Brazil in the World Cup) leaping high to head the ball in with amazing power from about 12 yards out, the goalie rooted to goal line. That game established my love of Brazilian soccer. So I cheered for Brazil against Colombia, and I would have celebrated my friends’ delight had Colombia advanced. 

We have good friends from Argentina too; but supporting England means not cheering for Argentina (think Maradona and the hand of God in 1986). It also means that I can enjoy the goal Maradona scored later in that match: I remember four English players strewn like leaves on the field as the camera panned back from Maradona’s goal to the players he had left behind, lying on the ground. 

So it goes. I cheer for some teams and root against others, but I enjoy brilliant play wherever it comes from. I cheer for England (out) and the USA (out). I cheer for Holland (in as I type, but playing later today) and Brazil (in for a few more days). And I love the play of all. 

Of course I dislike diving. Most players do it: Robben of Holland is named and guilty, but Mueller of Germany is equally skilled at scoring (a wonderful player!) and at claiming free kicks when someone grazes him lightly. Of course I dislike needless fouling. Most players do it: there’s a reason that certain fouls are called “professional fouls”. But my dislikes pale beside the valour and desire of the Americans, the attacking play of the Germans and the Dutch, the quick skill of the South Americans, the quick short passes of Spain and Portugal. From Ronaldo to van Persie to Mueller, from Neymar to Messi to Rodriguez, one after the other too many to name, they have brought me joy and delight as the World Cup progresses. 

In the end one has to say also, soccer is a game; no more than that. When it ends each country still faces the challenges of daily life. I wish for Brazil success in dealing with the challenges that have led so many to question the money spent on the World Cup. Whether they go through the semi-finals and finals or lose their next game, thank you for the soccer (football as the rest of the world calls it), and success in the more important things of life.

Boy in the Temple

Sparked by a painting Elfrieda Lepp-Kaethler has helped place in our library, of Jesus in the Temple being questioned by his elders.

Questions hang in the air round the child;

Law delving through law deep into the loam
Of Wisdom. Faces crowd round the who and why,
The catechized One in his elders’ home.
Law shows the way for a young boy to grow,
To become the Law’s son at the right time.
Questions reveal what the teachers don’t know:
The son of the Law is Himself the Sign.

Questions decay in the soil of our lives,

Creating new life for deep-buried word.
And as we turn to the old and the wise,
Seed blooms before us, a gift from our Lord.
Living with questions, vehicles of grace,
Luring us onwards, unveiling His face.

Daryl Climenhaga, June 2014
(with help from Alison)

Earthen Vessels (embrace your inner duck)

Introduction
I want to talk about two things this morning. One is the fundamental rebellion against God that is part of all of our lives, and two is the shape that our lives take—not good or bad, but often things that we really want to change. The first area, our rebellion, requires God’s intervention to help us turn from our rebellion and be saved. The second area, being the imperfect way we are, does not need change with anything like the same urgency. Sometimes we need to embrace the way God made us, whether or not we like it.

The Text (Read Text: 2 Corinthians 4:1-7)

There are at least two basic issues in 2 Corinthians with which Paul deals. One is that Paul has had to exercise discipline against someone in the Corinthian church. In chapter two he notes that he was staying away for a time in order not to make that discipline too painful. So chapter 2:

“¹ So I made up my mind that I would not make another painful visit to you. ² For if I grieve you, who is left to make me glad but you whom I have grieved? ³ I wrote as I did, so that when I came I would not be distressed by those who should have made me rejoice. … ⁵ If anyone has caused grief, he has not so much grieved me as he has grieved all of you to some extent – not to put it too severely. ⁶ The punishment inflicted on him by the majority is sufficient. ⁷ Now instead, you ought to forgive and comfort him, so that he will not be overwhelmed by excessive sorrow. ⁸ I urge you, therefore, to reaffirm your love for him.”

Two is that the Corinthians were questioning his authority as an apostle. Other teachers had come to them claiming that they had greater authority and could show greater spiritual power than Paul. In chapter 11:5 Paul sarcastically calls them “super-apostles”. Much of this letter is given to showing that God’s greatness and goodness are most visible in our apparent weakness. That note comes through in chapter 4.

In the first chapters of 2 Corinthians, Paul talks a lot about the glory of God, which is the answer both to those who would allow sin to go unchecked in their lives and to those who want to talk about how great they are. God is the only one full of glory. We are becoming like God in his glory through the gift of the gospel of Jesus. So God’s glory frames all of our conversation about how to live in this world.

Rebellion

You notice that way that Paul talks about our rebellion in the passage that we read:
V. 2: We have renounced secret and shameful ways. (He refers to deceit in ministry--but the application can be broader.)

V. 4: The god of this age has blinded the minds of unbelievers …. (leading to rebellion against God).

V. 6: God … made his light to shine in our hearts …. (leading to the end of rebellion).

I have been reading through the book of Judges (a hard book for a Mennonite to read). One commentator observes that the book descends from a setting in which God would call a judge such as Ehud, who responded and delivered Israel, to a situation in which the judge was someone like Samson, who cared more about his own pleasure than doing God’s will. The book comes to a conclusion with these words: “In those days Israel had no king; everyone did as they saw fit.” 

These words describe our world accurately. A brief survey of the news reminds us of the results of human rebellion against God. We have enshrined personal liberty above all else, so that every person tries to be his/her own god. That rebellion is idolatry and leads only to trouble. The cure for this rebellion and darkness is the light of the gospel, which shines in the hearts of those who have given themselves to God in Christ. 

The light of the gospel is the reason that we are gathered together this morning. Jesus took our sins and rebellion on to himself on the cross, and the light of his resurrection is the best good news ever to be heard in our world. Have you ever paid attention to the stories of deliverance, stories that we used to tell in testimony meetings? Here is a small one from my family. My great-great-grandmother was Abigail Barnhart Climenhaga. She had a brother named Peter Barnhart. Peter smoked a clay pipe, a foul-smelling habit that made life miserable for his family. When people told him he should stop smoking the pipe, he said, “Show me in the Bible where it says the clay pipe is wrong.” Well, such verses are hard to find. Then one day during revival services in the Niagara Peninsula of Ontario, where he lived, God got hold of him, and he went down to the altar to pray. That night he took out his clay pipe and let go of it forever. On the way home in their horse and carriage, Peter suddenly said to his wife, “Mary, I stink!” “Yes Peter”, she replied, “you do.” When they got home, Peter walked around the house and said, “The house stinks!” His wife agreed. The next day he went out and bought some carbolic soap and scrubbed down the whole house and repainted it. And that was the end of the clay pipe. Clay pipes are a small thing, but God has set countless people free from sin and rebellion. When you turn your life over to God, Christ cleanses you and makes you new and shines the light of the gospel into your life. This light then shines through you into the lives of people around you.

On Friday I met Kirit Debbarma. He is an Indian pastor just north of Calcutta, India in the state called Tripura.  He described the ethnic and religious conflict that goes on around him and then said, “That’s why I preach the gospel. Peace between the castes and ethnic groups of India can come only through Jesus.”

The light of the gospel shining in our hearts is something we should seek more and more. This requires a constant unchanging focus on Jesus at the centre of our lives. Only God’s Spirit working in us can do this. And yet we often obsess about things that don’t matter nearly as much as open rebellion, while allowing our rebellion to continue unchecked.

The Way We Are

Have you ever noticed how we worry about things we can’t change that really don’t matter, and make excuses for things we should change that God wants to take care of? Let me illustrate with my own life. My grandparents went to Zimbabwe in 1921. My grandfather came to be known as “Iskwabayile”. As best as we can tell, the name refers to the way that he walked: “He walked like a duck.” My parents went back to Africa in 1946, and my Dad came to be known as “Umgamuli”, one who struts around as though he is really important”: Another way of saying, “He walked like a duck.” I went to Zimbabwe in 1972, when I graduated from college. I met an older woman at the mission where my grandparents had lived. She asked me, “What’s your name?” I told her. “What’s your father’s name?” I told her. “What’s your grandfather’s name?” I told her. She finished with: “You walk like your grandfather.” Ouch!

We were talking about this story with our sons, and one of them said, “I’m trying not to walk like a duck.” Guess what: you don’t have much choice! You walk the way that you learned to walk by watching your father. Guess what else: It doesn’t matter! God made me that way, and it’s okay!

A side note: Another way of understanding the walk is that it conveys the idea of self-confidence and the willingness to lead people forward. That’s more positive than “like a duck”—and it still doesn’t really matter!

How often do we try our hardest to change something about the way we look or sound or act? We go on diets, exercise frantically, pay for plastic surgery, and generally put great energy into changing things that really don’t matter. When I was in college, one of my teachers had a nose that was really red from the veins in his nose. I remember thinking, “I am so glad I don’t have your nose!” Now that I am older, I’m getting a similar nose. I asked the doctor if there’s anything he could do. He said that there is cosmetic surgery that would restore my nose to its former glory, but it costs quite a bit. Why would I pay that money?

Now there is nothing wrong with looking our best. It is a good thing to work out and take care of ourselves. But whether you are an extrovert or introvert really doesn’t matter. If you wish you were taller (why can’t I be 5’11’ instead of 5’7”?), it doesn’t matter! I have trouble with organization and remembering what I’m supposed to do next. It is good for me to learn to make lists, but being disorganized is not sin.

So we take care of ourselves and generally cope with the way God made us. That’s good. But do we put the same energy into dealing with our real problems? Do we seek God’s deliverance for outbreaks of temper that hurt people, or for a tendency to lie that destroys relationships, or for the many other real signs of rebellion in our lives? Let the gospel act in your life changing you from glory into glory (3:18), and don’t worry so much about what are really minor imperfections on the surface.

Here is how Paul describes these surface imperfections:

V. 7: “But we have this treasure in jars of clay (or earthen vessels) to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us.” This quality of “earthen vessels” may mean “redeemed sinful human beings”, but  it also brings in the idea of being less than perfect in all areas—not just referring to our moral imperfection.

We have this treasure of the gospel in our bodies and personalities filled with imperfections. That’s good! I wonder if in some sense the “thorn in the flesh” that Paul describes in chapter 12 isn’t something like this. Perhaps Paul really wanted to become a nicer person to live with, and finally realized he would always be cranky and over-zealous. God didn’t heal that, because he didn’t need to. Paul was a clay jar, an earthen vessel.

Another side note: This is a less likely possibility for Paul’s “thorn in the flesh”. Just saying—Paul was imperfect, and that was fine with God. We are ‘earthen vessels”.

Conclusion

Let me recap. 1) God wants to change us from glory into glory, removing our sin and rebellion and remaking us with God’s glory shining in and through us. 2) We sometimes start to focus on minor issues of personality and appearance and ask God to change that. God saves us. He takes care of the fundamental rebellion of the human heart and reconciles us to himself. God does not change our height or weight or nose shape. We remain ourselves with all of our imperfections; we remain earthen vessels, jars of clay.

Recently I read a column by Hilary Price. (I don’t know the original source.) Hilary’s (Charles Price) is the pastor of People’s Church in Toronto, and she has her own ministry with People’s Church. (You can read more about them at www.livingtruth.ca)

A water bearer in India had two large pots, each hung on an end of a pole which he carried across his neck. One of the pots had a crack in it, and while the other pot was perfect and always delivered a full portion of water at the end of the long walk from the stream to the master’s house, the cracked pot arrived only half full. For a full two years this went on daily, with the bearer delivering only one and a half pots full of water in his master’s house. Of course, the perfect pot was proud of its accomplishments, perfect to the end for which it was made. But the poor cracked pot was ashamed of its own imperfection, and miserable that it was able to accomplish only half of what it had been made to do. After two years of what it perceived to be a bitter failure, it spoke to the water bearer one day by the stream.

“I am ashamed of myself, and I want to apologize to you.” “Why?” asked the bearer. “What are you ashamed of?” “I have been able, for these past two years, to deliver only half my load because this crack in my side causes water to leak out all the way back to your master’s house. Because of my flaws, you have to do all of this work, and you don't get full value from your efforts,” the pot said. The water bearer felt sorry for the old cracked pot, and in his compassion he said, “As we return to the master’s house, I want you to notice the beautiful flowers along the path.” Indeed, as they went up the hill, the old cracked pot took notice of the sun warming the beautiful wild flowers on the side of the path, and this cheered it some. But at the end of the trail, it still felt bad because it had leaked out half its load, and so again the Pot apologized to the bearer for its failure.

The bearer said to the pot, “Did you notice that there were flowers only on your side of your path, but not on the other pots side? That’s because I have always known about your flaw, and I took advantage of it. I planted flower seeds on your side of the path, and every day while we walk back from the stream, you've watered them. For two years I have been able to pick these beautiful flowers to decorate my masters table. Without you being just the way you are, he would not have this beauty to grace his house.”

 

The flaws that make us earthen vessels or clay pots are not our active rebellion against God. Setting ourselves up against God is simply wrong and leads to great harm. But you don’t have to be like anyone else for God’s glory to shine in and through you. God made you the way you are, and that’s good. “Embrace your inner duck!”

Embrace Your Inner Duck

Zimbabweans gave my grandfather a name when he lived in Zimbabwe—“Iskwabayile”. Assuming I have gotten anywhere near the actual spelling, it means (I think) “He walks like a duck.”

That was way back in the 1920s. When I went to Zimbabwe some 50 years later as a teacher at Matopo Secondary School (the same place my grandparents lived), I met an old woman who had lived there for a long time. She asked me, “What’s your name?” “Daryl Climenhaga.” “Who was your father?” “David Climenhaga.” “Who was your grandfather?” “John Climenhaga.” Then she delivered the coup de grace: “You walk like your grandfather.”

Great! I walk like a duck! Since then I have had various opportunities to embrace my inner duck.

Class Reunion at Messiah College, about 20 years after seeing my classmates. I saw an old friend across the grass as I walked towards the Eisenhower Center. “Daryl!” (Always nice to be remembered.) “I recognized you by the way you walk.” (Great. Embrace your inner duck.)

I have the comfort of knowing that my father bears the same burden. My grandparents had three sons: Arthur, David, and Joel. One day their wives (Grandma Emma, Arlene, Dorcas, and Zoe were standing in front of their house watching their husbands walk down the driveway. They burst out laughing, causing the men to turn around in surprise. “We were just watching four bumps on a log.” So all four of them walked like ducks.

One of our sons recently said that he is trying not to walk like a duck. Good luck! These things are too deeply ingrained from watching our father walk as we learn to walk for us to simply set them aside. Embrace your inner duck!Besides, ducks can be aggressive creatures when they defend their families and take care of each other. Maybe waddling and dancing don’t seem to go together, but then again even ducks can learn to dance!

There’s lots of other attributes from my father and grandfather that I also want to embrace: their commitment to God; their commitment to their spouse; their care for their family (in spite of the problems that our family has known); their love of truth; their love of music and learning; their desire to help make the world around them better. There are the usual culprits of qualities I would like to leave behind, but for the most part I want to embrace my inner duck.

Simplicity

Text: Matthew 6: 19-24

 

I want to talk about money this morning. This is a touchy subject, so let me give you a bit of background. The worship committee responded to a suggestion that we spend some time talking about money. We could talk about questions such as, “How much we should tithe?” Should you tithe 10% of gross income or net income? Do you give all of your 10% to your home church and then give offerings beyond that to other ventures in God’s kingdom? And so on.

 

One can answer such questions readily. Tithing as a matter of law does not apply in the New Covenant. We give as a response of gratitude and love for God’s grace active in our lives. This truth increases the importance of giving. A tithe can feel like a tax, so that we look for the least we can do to satisfy the law. A response of gratitude and love leads us to ask how much we can give, how little we can get by on for ourselves. But of course these answers gloss over a deeper issue: How do we relate to money?

 

I was talking about this question with some friends recently, and we noted a shift in our area between our generation and those who precede us. Older folk tend to hold their money more lightly; we (I speak as a baby boomer) tend to be more concerned with accumulating money.  So I want to wrestle with this question this morning: How should we relate to money? What can we say as Christians about money?

 

Money is Good

Can we agree on this point to begin? Money is good. Money is (or can be) a sign of God’s blessing. Listen to Proverbs chapter 3:

5 Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding;

6 in all your ways submit to him, and he will make your paths straight.

7 Do not be wise in your own eyes; fear the Lord and shun evil.

8 This will bring health to your body and nourishment to your bones.

9 Honour the Lord with your wealth, with the firstfruits of all your crops;

10 then your barns will be filled to overflowing, and your vats will brim over with new wine.

Now this particular passage goes on to observe that wisdom based on the fear of the Lord is worth more than these overflowing barns, but the point is clear: wealth comes from God. Consider people in the early church such as Lydia (Acts 16) and Joseph of Arimathea (Matthew 27:57), who used their wealth for the benefit of people around them. This point is worth making because people sometimes misquote Paul: “Money is the root of all evil.” Of course you know that Paul says, “The love of money is the root of all kinds of evil” (1 Timothy 6:10).  To begin then, let us say that money and possessions are good. God wants us to thrive—as Proverbs puts it, to have full barns and good wine. Paul’s words remain, however, and they lead us to our second point. If money is good, then how can the love of money be the root of all kinds of evil? How can the love of money be bad?

 

Money seeks to take God’s Place

Note the way that Jesus puts it in this morning’s text: “You cannot serve God and Money.” Money is good; but money can be abused. Similarly, fire can be destructive, burning down someone’s house. But fire itself is a good thing, providing heat and energy for people like us who live in such a cold climate. When fire is out of control, it becomes destructive and bad. It is not simply that it burns up dead stuff—in a forest fire that activity contributes to the long-term health of the forest. But when a fire burns out of control it destroys good and bad together and becomes an agent of destruction. Similarly, when money is not controlled, when money becomes the controller (the master), it becomes destructive.

 

Hear again Paul’s words in 1 Timothy 6:10:  “Some people, eager for money, have wandered from the faith and pierced themselves with many griefs.” Money is good, but greed is bad. Money can be God’s blessing in our lives, but loving money and pursuing it leads to grief. Why is this?

 

The Trouble with Money

Do you remember Jesus’ words in Matthew 19?

16 Just then a man came up to Jesus and asked, “Teacher, what good thing must I do to get eternal life?” 17 “Why do you ask me about what is good?” Jesus replied. “There is only One who is good. If you want to enter life, keep the commandments.” 18 “Which ones?” he enquired. Jesus replied, “‘You shall not murder, you shall not commit adultery, you shall not steal, you shall not give false testimony, 19 honour your father and mother,’ and ‘love your neighbour as yourself.’” 20 “All these I have kept,” the young man said. “What do I still lack?”

21 Jesus answered, “If you want to be perfect, go, sell your possessions and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven. Then come, follow me.” 22 When the young man heard this, he went away sad, because he had great wealth. 23 Then Jesus said to his disciples, “Truly I tell you, it is hard for someone who is rich to enter the kingdom of heaven. 24 Again I tell you, it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for someone who is rich to enter the kingdom of God.”

 

Jesus’ point is clear: The rich cannot enter God’s Kingdom unless God makes it possible. We can see this more clearly by looking at a definition of who is poor and who is rich.

 

We often define “poor” economically. Instead, let’s define “poor” theologically. I think it is Kittel (The Theological Dictionary of the New Testament) who defines them this way: “The poor are those who need God’s help and know it.” The rich then are those who need God’s help—and don’t know it. Compare this idea to Revelation 3:14-18:

To the angel of the church in Laodicea write: “These are the words of the Amen, the faithful and true witness, the ruler of God’s creation.  15 I know your deeds, that you are neither cold nor hot. I wish you were either one or the other! 16 So, because you are lukewarm – neither hot nor cold – I am about to spit you out of my mouth. 17 You say, ‘I am rich; I have acquired wealth and do not need a thing.’ But you do not realise that you are wretched, pitiful, poor, blind and naked. 18 I counsel you to buy from me gold refined in the fire, so that you can become rich; and white clothes to wear, so that you can cover your shameful nakedness; and salve to put on your eyes, so that you can see.”

Sometimes we focus on the lukewarm nature of this church: “I wish you were cold or hot!” I’m not sure if what follows is cause or symptom, but observe: They use their wealth to self-medicate their condition. They think they can solve their problems with money. They think that their wealth will protect them from the problems of life. Like Donald Sterling of the LA Clippers, they think they can solve any problem they face with money. They are wrong!

 

Ravi Zacharias has put it this way: “The words of Augustine are most appropriate: ‘You have made us for yourself and our hearts are restless until they find their rest in Thee.’ Or, as Pascal put it, ‘There is a godshaped vacuum in the heart of every man, and only God can fill it.’”

 

I read a blog replying to this quote, in which the author claims that atheists are happier than Christians, so the quote must not be true. What I say here, then, I say with appropriate caution: I believe that Augustine and Pascal (and Zacharias) are right, but I don’t identify the experience of God’s presence with happiness. Christians may not always be happy; but we do find the fullness of God’s presence, which alone satisfies. You can call what we find “joy”, or “peace”—something deeper and richer than the pleasure that comes from spending money. “There’s a deep, settled peace in my soul, while the billows of life o’er me roll, he abides, Christ abides.”

 

The rich try to fill that inner space with many different things, and they fail. Poor people struggle with obvious problems such as no housing and no health care. Rich people’s problems are often invisible, but just as destructive. Paul Simon turned a poem by Edwin Arlington Robinson into one of the best and grimmest of his early songs:

 

They say that Richard Cory owns one half of this whole town,

With political connections to spread his wealth around.

Born into society, a banker’s only child,

He had everything a man could want: power, grace, and style.

But I work in his factory, And I curse the life I’m living, And I curse my poverty.

And I wish that I could be, Oh, I wish that I could be, Oh, I wish that I could be

Richard Cory.

 

The papers print his picture almost everywhere he goes:

Richard Cory at the opera, Richard Cory at a show.

And the rumor of his parties and the orgies on his yacht!

Oh, he surely must be happy with everything he’s got.

But I work in his factory, And I curse the life I’m living, And I curse my poverty.

And I wish that I could be, Oh, I wish that I could be, Oh, I wish that I could be

Richard Cory.

 

He freely gave to charity, he had the common touch,

And they were grateful for his patronage and thanked him very much,

So my mind was filled with wonder when the evening headlines read:

“Richard Cory went home last night and put a bullet through his head.”

But I work in his factory, And I curse the life I’m living, And I curse my poverty.

And I wish that I could be, Oh, I wish that I could be, Oh, I wish that I could be

Richard Cory.

 

The trouble with money is that we use it to try and heal what only God can heal, to do what only God can do and fill the space in our lives that was made for God alone.

 

Simplicity

A common response to this line of thinking is to adopt a simple lifestyle. It’s a good response, but by itself it is not enough. Simplicity is not an end in itself. Simplicity is not the goal; God is. You can decide that you are going to break the grip money has on you by moving to a cabin in the woods. You may decide to downsize radically. You may buy a used car and get your clothes at the MCC Thrift Ship. You may become genuinely cheap! But none of this is the goal. God is the goal.

 

The Shakers were a group who broke off from the Quakers in the late 1700s. They were an idealistic group who committed themselves to life in the Spirit, living in anticipation of Christ’s return. They had some characteristics not worth emulating, as well as many admirable qualities, one of which was their commitment to simplicity as the path to freedom in the Spirit. We can learn from their understanding of simplicity, expressed in a little one-verse hymn you may know. Here are just the first two lines:

’Tis the gift to be simple, ’tis the gift to be free

’Tis the gift to come down where we ought to be ….

 

Richard Foster wrote a book called The Freedom of Simplicity. He starts out by saying that simplicity is not simple. Simplicity is complex. Simplicity is possible only through God’s grace active in our lives. One of the churches in the larger Mennonite family has adopted what they call their Core Values. Their statement on simplicity runs like this: “Living Simply: We value uncluttered lives, which free us to love boldly, give generously, and serve joyfully.”

 

Simplicity is a gift from God that sets us free to love God and serve God with our whole hearts and minds and strength. Simplicity—freedom from being controlled by the pursuit for more, for things, for money—sets us free to serve God alone.

 

Some basic ideas in closing

If we are free to use money as our servant, instead of serving money as our master, then a way of living results. I can’t give you rules and say: Do this and you have it. This way of living is in response to God’s grace and love active in our loves. True love is visible and expressive, and cannot be captured in a simple set of rules.

 

What then does the love of God look like, expressed in the way we live with our money?

I expect that we will sometimes spend the money God has given us on things that please us. These things are God’s gift to us, and God likes it when we enjoy his good gifts.

I expect that often we will spend our money simply on God. That might take the form of:

·        Offerings to the church.

·        Caring for someone who is less financially fortunate.

·        Living generously towards others.

Actually, this way of asking the question is wrong: It’s not our money. I remember a Christmas about 20 years ago when our young son carefully wrapped up the dollar we gave him for his week’s allowance and gave it to me for my Christmas present. I loved it! I loved it so much that I had the dollar laminated and made into a bookmark. But where did it come from? Lois and me. Who would give him more? Lois and me. It was a good thing to do, that showed his love for us wonderfully, but it really came from us all along.

 

That’s a bit like the case with us and God. We struggle over how to live with our money, when we would first of all relax in God’s arms and trust God to take care of us. All that we are and have is God’s anyway. We cannot give God anything that is not already his.

 

Return to the questions we started with: How much should we give in our tithes and offerings? No rules, but two ideas.

·        Ron Sider has suggested a graduated tithe. Give 10% on the basic amount you need to live on—say $50,000, and then increase the percentage for every 20,000 (or any other increment you choose) above that and give the extra to God’s work and God’s people and God’s world.

·        Someone else has suggested: Whenever you buy something you don’t really need but would like, make a matching gift to God. If you spend $1,000 on electronics or some other “want”, make a matching gift of $1,000 to God’s work and God’s people and God’s world. You can do the same with small luxuries, such as going out to eat.

 

I can’t give you a rule to follow; you have to work out the specifics for yourselves. The answer will be the same but look different at different stages of our lives. God moves in our lives at every age, but the answer when we ask God how to use our money will look different when we are 20 from when we are 40 from when are 60 from when we are 80. The answer will be the same: Do what shows your love and gratitude to God, using the good gifts God has given us for God’s sake, not for ours.

 

 

 

 

BRETHREN IN CHRIST CORE VALUES

Experiencing God’s Love and Grace: We value the free gift of salvation in Christ Jesus and the transforming power of the Holy Spirit.

Believing the Bible: We value the Bible as God’s authoritative Word, study it together, and build our lives on its truth.

Worshiping God: We value heartfelt worship that is God-honoring, Spirit-directed, and life-changing.

Following Jesus: We value whole hearted obedience to Christ Jesus through the empowering presence of the Holy Spirit.

Belonging to the Community of Faith: We value integrity in relationships and mutual accountability in an atmosphere of grace, love, and acceptance.

Witnessing to the World: We value an active and loving witness for Christ to all people.

Serving Compassionately: We value serving others at their point of need, following the example of our Lord Jesus.

Pursuing Peace: We value all human life and promote forgiveness, understanding, reconciliation, and non-violent resolution of conflict.

Living Simply: We value uncluttered lives, which free us to love boldly, give generously, and serve joyfully.

Relying on God: We confess our dependence on God for everything, and seek to deepen our intimacy with Him by living prayerfully.

I really don't like grackles

Lois noticed the sounds when she went out to the kitchen for breakfast. Scuffling noises above the stove-top, in the vent that carries hot air away when cooking. I came out in response to her calls. Soon the small noises turned to louder noises of a highly distressed bird. Then banging as the birds tried harder and harder to get out.

Lois left work. I am squeamish. Lois kills spiders and other bugs when they appear. I was home alone with the birds. I called Ben, a friend who put in our furnace, figuring he knows about duct work and could help me get at the trapped birds. Ben showed up, and we opened the cupboard above the stove. We discovered that there is no real duct work there, just wood panelling that directs the hot air into the attic when you turn the fan on.

The panelling had given about an inch under the birds struggles. We found a couple of badminton racquets and a garbage bag, and set about freeing the birds. the plan was that they would fly out the French doors and find freedom. The first one shot out--a young black frantic grackle! He hit the window on the far wall as I jumped back a good five yards. Did I mention I'm squeamish!

Ben got that window open, and the bird sped off to freedom. Then we realized a second one was still trapped. Ben levered the panel a little more open, and a second grackle shot out through the French doors. To my great relief.
Ben left (with my profound gratitude), and I cleaned up. Not much mess, thankfully. I screwed some wood nails into the panelling, reattaching it firmly to keep anything else from the attic firmly out.
I believe we should love all God's creatures, but I don't. Grackles! They chase other birds away from our bird feeders. And now they've tried invading the house.
I walked around outside and eventually located a small round vent from the attic to the outside, with a flap to keep birds out. The flap is bent, and I suspect that these two young birds perched on the edge of the overhanging cover, and bent the flap out and squeezed in. If they were trying to mate and make a nest, they picked a really bad place. Now I need to replace that vent and make sure that there are no more grackle events through that vent in our kitchen!

Loss

My chaplain friend talked about different people struggling with loss: The man who watched his girlfriend jump to her death from a balcony some 17 storeys above him; the man who left a promising career in sports for a life of crime when his grandfather died. One person after another whose life was derailed by loss.

My friend is a D Min student. He was presenting his project to us, looking at what he calls “complicated grief”: The grief and losses men experience in prison. One of his thoughts was that the church has not done well working with the idea of loss. He said, “We need to develop a theology of loss to answer the question: Why did God design a world filled with loss?”

I could refer him to theodicies (theologies of suffering), which move in the direction he notes. But he is right. This area is one of the hardest for us to make sense of. Why does loss appear to be designed into our world? For those of us who believe in God, why has loss been planted in our world, and we are forced to eat the fruit that grows on it if we want to live?

Today is Holy Saturday—the day between Dark Friday and Resurrection Sunday. We play those wonderful YouTube clips of Tony Campolo preaching: “It’s Friday! But Sunday’s coming!” And we’re ready to shout with his audience, “Sunday’s coming!” But today we wait in between. Today we feel the loss. Why did God design our world to be filled with loss?

Of course, in this respect the prisoners are simply human. We all experience loss. In Denial of the Soul Scott Peck describes the ending of life as a series of losses, until we are confined to bed unable to care for ourselves. Entirely dependent on others for everything; at the end of the road paved with loss. Why?

No answers today. This is Holy Saturday. Today we wait. Maybe someday we’ll know better, but for the moment we know that loss is real. Loss hurts. How we live with loss can destroy or make us. But for now it’s not even Friday; it’s Saturday, and we wait.

The Strength of Weakness

Introduction
Many years ago I spent three years as a student at AMBS. I remember how my teachers taught us to read the Bible. As you read through a passage, they said, look for the puzzles, the questions, the contradictions that don’t make sense to you. Often it is the problems in the passage that unlock its meaning for you. So this morning I want to look through the text that was read for us and ask, “What puzzles or problems do you see?” We won’t go into great depth, but just begin with two or three that caught my attention.

We have read this story, and we re-enact it with our children every year, so that our brains go to sleep when we hear it again. Look a little more closely with me and see what emerges. Nothing new perhaps; but we can see the old truths again more clearly.

Matthew 21: 1-17

My first question has to do with the overall event. Verse 8 says: “A very large crowd spread their cloaks on the road, while others cut branches from the trees and spread them on the road.” But then we read of the same event in Luke’s gospel (19:37): “When he came near the place where the road goes down the Mount of Olives, the whole crowd of disciples began joyfully to praise God in loud voices for all the miracles they had seen.” What’s going on? A really big event, or just the disciples celebrating? The answer may be a bit of both. When you stand inside a celebration, it looks bigger than when you stand outside looking at everything else going on all around. A newspaper reported watching the celebration might have put it down to a small group of enthusiasts, but in fact this was the biggest thing that Jerusalem had ever seen.

Think of it this way: The Pharisees thought of Jesus as a small town rabbi who needed to be put in his place. Even the crowds who cheer for him call him only, “Jesus the prophet from Nazareth in Galilee” (21:11). But in truth Jesus was the Son of God, the Messiah of Israel, now entering the city to proclaim God’s reign on earth. The entry is both a relatively small affair, and the most important thing that had ever happened in Jerusalem.

A second question occurs to me. Why does Jesus go through this elaborate set of signals to get a donkey? He sends two disciples to a pre-arranged place, where they a find a donkey. He plans to ride the donkey into the city, and this interaction sounds like a pre-arranged code. Perhaps Jesus (or someone acting for Jesus) had gone to the owner of the donkey and arranged for Jesus to use them. They may have said something like, “Some disciples will come when we’re ready and take the donkey.” The owner may have asked, “How will I know who the right person is?” So they make this arrangement: “They will come and take the donkey. You ask, ‘What are you doing with my donkey?’ They will say, ‘The Lord needs them.’ So you know they are the ones.”

It all sounds almost like spies on a secret mission! In fact, Dorothy Sayers uses exactly that idea in a series of 12 plays she wrote about the life of Jesus, called “The Man Born to be King.” In the eighth play, “Royal progress,” Sayers pictures Jesus as being courted by Baruch, a Zealot who wants to throw the Romans out in a violent revolution. This exchange, then, becomes the signal to Baruch that Jesus has refused his invitation. Jesus comes in peace and will not fight a revolution. Of course, all of this is speculation, but it reflects the fact that we don’t know what’s going on here. We do know that Jesus chose to use a donkey quite intentionally. And this leads us to my third question. 

So question three: Why did Jesus use two donkeys? Mark, Luke, and John each report just one donkey; but Matthew makes a point of reporting two donkeys. He adds:

This took place to fulfil what was spoken through the prophet: “Say to Daughter Zion, ‘See, your king comes to you, gentle and riding on a donkey, and on a colt, the foal of a donkey.’”

Was there one donkey or two? Of course Jesus rode only on one donkey. I know that verse 7 sounds like both donkeys are used, but we don’t need to think of Jesus standing with one foot on the mother donkey and the other foot on her foal. He rode on one, and the other came along beside them. But why two? 

I checked the commentaries. The first thing most of them did was point out that Zechariah 9:9 uses a typical Hebrew parallelism, repeating the donkey rather than adding a second donkey. They suggest that in his eagerness to cite the prophecy Matthew misreads Zechariah to refer to two donkeys instead of one. But I must admit that this explanation does not work for me. Matthew was a Jew, and he was writing to Jews. He knew how Hebrew poetry works better than we do. I can’t quite believe that he simply misread the parallel construction to mean two. Besides, Matthew was probably there. He saw the event himself. 

More likely, Matthew took advantage of the two donkeys to highlight the prophecy. Mark, Luke, and John don’t bother to mention the second donkey because they don’t see it as important. But Matthew wants us to get the point that this entry into Jerusalem is fulfills prophecy. This is the entry of God’s Messiah, bringing in God’s reign. When we see this point, we begin to hear what Matthew is saying.

The Triumph of Weakness

Stop and think. Why a donkey at all? A conquering king enters the city on his warhorse. He comes in at the head of an army with trumpets blaring, so that everyone knows where the real power lies. What kind of king enters the city on a donkey? 

We had donkeys where I grew up at Matopo Mission. I remember their annoying bray early in the morning, making sure you can’t sleep in. I remember driving down the road and finding a donkey lying in the middle of the road. We stopped and waited for him to move. Nothing. We edged forward, trying to spook him so he would move. Nothing. We honked the horn, loud and long. The donkey rolled over on his back and kicked his feet in the air. Donkeys are stubborn creatures, good for working, and good for carrying poor people. They are no steed for a conquering hero! 

So Matthew says, look back to the prophecy: “Rejoice greatly, Daughter Zion! Shout, Daughter Jerusalem! See, your king comes to you, righteous and victorious, lowly and riding on a donkey, on a colt, the foal of a donkey. I will take away the chariots from Ephraim and the war-horses from Jerusalem, and the battle-bow will be broken. He will proclaim peace to the nations. His rule will extend from sea to sea and from the River to the ends of the earth.” 

This is not the triumph of strength, defeating every enemy. This is the triumph of weakness. Jesus comes to bring peace, which looks like weakness to us. The gospels don’t tell us that Mary rode a donkey to Bethlehem, but we have guessed that was so, in our Christmas celebrations, because the donkey is a symbol of poor people. God comes in weakness to defeat the power of evil in the world. 

We see this emphasis in the text as the story continues. In verse 14 the blind and the lame come to him, and in verse 15 the children sing his praises. What do the people of power do? They plot his death. 

Why does Jesus come in weakness?

I think of at least one basic reason for this pattern. When you come in power, the people around know they have to agree with you. If a king rides in with his army, the onlookers know that they had better be on his side. When a CEO says that the company is going to do this or that, the yes-men/yes-women start to say, “Yes, Sir!” 

But when God comes to us, he comes as invitation. If all the power of God entered our sanctuary now, there would be no choice. We would fall down, overwhelmed by the greatness and glory and power of God’s glory. How then can God invite us to choose freely to worship and follow? By coming in the weakness and fragility of the cross. Weakness is the strength of invitation and choice, making it possible for us to become “children of God”, exchanging our flawed human nature for God’s glorious nature. 

Andrew Walls observes that Islam has spread across the world through the use of strength, taking territory and not giving it up. Few places have become Muslim and then left Islam for something else. Christianity on the other hand spreads consecutively—that is, the church has been strongest in one place, and then left it for another. In the 1800s England was a thoroughly Christian nation, leading the world in applying Christian values to all that they did. Today only 3 to 5 % of English people attend church, and the Baptist church in which William Carey (sometimes called “the father of modern missions” grew up) is now a Hindu Centre. Christianity moves like this because of the fragility of the cross. Every generation has to choose again to follow the Prince of Peace. The fact that your parents or grandparents were Christian does not make you Christian. Jesus comes to you and to me afresh in every generation and invites us to follow him.

I think of how this willingness to be weak works in our own lives. I remember the Brethren in Christ General Conference in 1978, when we were debating how to respond as the US government considered reinstituting the draft. The government had started registering all youth at age 18. One group in the church wanted to counsel our young men to refuse to register.  Others said that we could not counsel them to break the law and should encourage them to register. At one point it almost sounded as though some wanted them to join the military and abandon our peace position. 

Tempers flared. Debate went late—1:15 am the first night, and 11:30 the second. Someone tried to break the tension by ordering pizza to be delivered to the front so that the moderator and secretary could get something to eat! I remember how my Uncle stood up and spoke strongly against the motion not to register, followed by Larry Yoder who stood to speak for the motion not to register. John Stoner had moved the motion, and he and my Uncle were in fierce opposition on the conference floor. At the next meal they sat together trying to find how they might agree with each other. They found little agreement, except that they were still brothers in Christ. At such times it is tempting to use parliamentary procedure to force the decision you want. The brothers and sisters refused to do that, but kept working to hear each other and honour God in what they decided. They came up with a compromise motion to encourage and support our young men as they decided how to respond to this registration. 

I remember another time when those in charge knew there would be a fight on the conference floor, and managed the process so that we all agreed to their position without a fight. They used their knowledge of church politics to get their way—an exercise of strength, like riding into the building on a war horse! The result was 20 years of struggle as the people realised what had happened and fought back. We may think that long discussions and the inability to decide show that we are weak, but in fact they serve as an invitation to join in and become part of the process. 

Conclusion

I’m not really talking about church politics; I’m talking about life. God comes in Jesus riding on a donkey on the way to the cross, the ultimate show of weakness, so that we have the dignity of choosing to join the crowd following him. One day Jesus will come in power and great glory, riding on a war horse as the conquering king. Then there will be no more choice. For now he invites us to follow him to the foot of the cross and lay down our burdens and receive his life. 

Last week Jim Scobie, former pastor at Emmanuel, spoke in our chapel at Providence. He was talking about the cross, and I was listening with half my mind present as we often do. Then, as he tried to describe what the cross means to him, his voice broke, and I realised he was on the edge of tears. Not because of anyone in the audience seated before him, but because the thought of the cross moved him so deeply. In Jim’s moment of weakness, on the edge of tears with a catch in his voice, I saw again the glory of the cross. Weakness and vulnerability are God’s path into our hearts, so that he can invite us to walk the path of the cross again in the week ahead and lay our hearts at his feet.

Blue Day

This past week was called “Out of the Blue”—a time to become more aware of depression and its many relatives, and to explore our own sadness and strength. In chapel on Wednesday, Cathy led us in a time of self-examination. We spent some time asking ourselves when we have known joy; when we have known fear; when we have known gratitude; and when we have known doubt. 

Here are my thoughts, with no specifics. (True confessions belong in the confessional, not in my blog.) 

Joy seems closely connected with:

·         Family and friends: relationships.

·         Productivity at work.

I’m not sure if this means that God comes most clearly in family and friends and work. At least I can say that I feel the most satisfaction or joy when these three areas are good. 

Fear and Anomie seem closely associated with:

·         Broken relationships: loneliness.

·         Failed productivity—usually because what I want at the moment gets in the way.

Momentary pleasure is perhaps the chief enemy of joy. (This is a problem in a society that elevates having fun above all else.)

We are fearfully and wonderfully made: Gratitude.

·         Memories: Rediscovering the past in my research (as I read about the history of BICWM)—my Dad’s memories; my own memories; the memories of other people in my past.

·         Simple physical pleasure: To play soccer at 63—anything less than “Thank you!” is churlish. (So pleasure is not necessarily the enemy of joy!)

Doubt flows when I live too much in the moment and forget the rest of my life. Memories are good. Joy is good. Sometimes I find it hard to live simply in that goodness. Why do I so often not see with “the single eye”, remembering past failures and searching for a pleasure fix? 

Joy comes in a balance of awareness of the past and living in the moment, neither demanding a pleasure fix nor wallowing in my bad memories. Joy comes from relationships—with God and with family and friends (God’s people)—nurtured with appropriate memories of love and care.