The Nicest Way to Declare a Sermon Too Long

 

Generally, I preach messages that last 20-25 minutes.  I seldom stray outside that timeframe.  Most of the worship services I lead dismiss on time.  But, one Sunday, I lost all track of time.  The outline I had prepared and printed in the bulletin had far too many points and I had a story to tell about each jot and tittle of that plethora of ideas.  I should have found a suitable stopping place and told the congregation we’d finish the message next Sunday.  But, I didn’t.  I persevered to the end.  Most of my poor congregation “suffered long and was kind.” 

When I returned to my office after the service, I faced my family’s post-game analysis (more like an autopsy) of my message.  My son said, in great desperation, “Couldn’t you find a place to stop?  And do you have to tell a story for every idea you teach?”  Linda was far more diplomatic.  In fact, in my book, she holds the world record for the kindest way to declare a sermon too long.  She said, “Dee, today’s message would make a good sermon series.”  A few years later, it actually did. Like the loaves and fishes, that one sermon, only slightly expanded, fed the congregation for five Sundays. 

Give the Benefit of the Doubt

When I began my year of service and study as a hospital chaplain resident, our Supervisor gathered us around a conference room table and spelled out his expectations for everyone on the chaplain staff.  One of his rules was that we promise to give each other the benefit of the doubt.  "Moments will come," he said, "when you’ll be tempted to question the actions or even the motives of one of your coworkers.  You’ll be stressed and sleep deprived.  You’ll run short on patience with your colleagues’ annoying ways.  But that is when you must remember your promise that your first thought will be that your fellow chaplain attempted to do the right thing for the right reason.  That gift will make us effective and keep us united."

Right now, I wish I could gather everyone in our nation around a very big conference room table and challenge each one of us to give the rest of us the benefit of the doubt.  We don’t do that, at least not nearly enough. 

We leap to judgment.  We hear a buzzword or two that leads us to identify another person as an enemy.  We thoughtlessly sort people into groups like sorting out the suits of a deck of cards.  You see a color and a shape and you know where you think that person belongs.  We play mind-reader and claim to know the motives behind a person’s actions. 

Imagine how different our national conversation would be if you and I gave every person we encounter the benefit of the doubt.  That doesn’t mean we agree with what they say or condone what they do, but we begin with an attitude that says, “I believe you’re trying to do the right thing for reasons that are important to you.”  What a gift that would be to our nation and what a big step forward toward national healing.  

Peace Comes to Hearts Where God’s Grace Finds a Home

Have you ever sung a song for a long time, only to learn that you had the lyrics wrong?  Writer Deborah Patterson asked people to send her Christmas songs they or their children had badly misunderstood.  Here are a few Christmas songs gone wrong from her collection. 

~       He’s making a list, of chicken and rice.

~       Dashing through the snow, on a one-horse soap and hay…

~       Round John Virgin, mother and child…

~       Later on, we’ll perspire, as we drink by the fire…

~       Get dressed, ye married gentlemen…

~       See the grazing mule before us, fa la la la la la la la la…

~       Olive, the other reindeer, used to laugh and call him names…

~       Noel, Noel, Noel, Noel …Barney’s the king of Israel…

Most of us have been repeating the song the angels sang to the shepherds since we were very young, but the truth is, most of us don’t have the message quite right.  And in getting this song wrong, we’ve missed the path to peace. 

Most of us quote the angel song in the words of the King James Version,

(Luke 2:14b) And on earth peace, good will toward men.

That’s a perfectly good translation, but it doesn’t clearly express the meaning of the Greek words it translates. 

The way it reads, we often take it to mean, “Let there be peace on earth and all of you good folks practice good will toward other people.”

That’s not a bad message.  I could vote for it, but it misses the life-changing power of the words the angels proclaimed that first Christmas night.  I believe the New International Version comes much closer to this verse's true meaning, 

(Luke 2:14b) And on earth peace to those on whom (God’s) favor rests. 

Peace comes to those who realize God is for them, God loves them, God sent Jesus to save them, and let that truth rest upon them, find a home in their hearts. 

A week ago, we celebrated my Andrew’s 26^th birthday, so he’s been on my mind lately.  I remember when he was only a day or two old, I went to the hospital nursery to bring him to Linda in her room.  You may know the pride you feel when you drive a new car through your neighborhood.  You want to take the long way home and wave at everyone as you drive by.  I felt that and much more as I pushed Andrew’s plexiglas bassinet down the hospital hallway.  I wanted everyone to see my baby boy.  The route from the nursery to Linda’s room passed through a stairwell, a great building design achievement.  Going through the doorway of the stairwell into Linda’s hallway, the bassinet bumped across a metal threshold.  This sudden bump startled little Andrew and he began to cry.  He was, after all, a little tiny nine-pound, twelve-ounce baby. I talked to him as we rolled down the hall, but he wasn’t listening.  He was afraid and letting the world know.  As we came through the doorway of Linda’s hospital room, I was greeted by that new mama look that said, in all caps, “Dee, what have you done to my baby?”  I didn’t answer that glare, because there was no acceptable answer.  But what happened next, I’ll never forget.  I reached down and placed my big old hand on Andrew’s little back and ever so gently rubbed it.  In an instant, he stopped crying and was at peace.  Linda and I looked at each other in amazement, as though I’d fed five thousand with one hospital tray or parted the cars outside to find a parking place.  The moment Andrew felt his father’s hand resting upon him, his distress turned to peace. 

That, I believe, is a picture of what must happen to us to find peace.  Life’s bumpy ride frightens us.  We feel helpless to do anything about it.  But then, if we open our hearts to God, His grace, His saving love, His favor rests upon us like a strong loving hand.  And when we feel the touch of grace and know we are His, our distress becomes peace. 

Peace comes when the seed of grace God has sown upon the world takes root and grows within your heart. 

When you believe what the angel said, that the good news is for you. 

When you realize that Jesus came into the world to be your Savior. 

May God's grace, brought to earth and to life through Jesus, find a home in your heart--and give you peace.

God Sends His Message of Hope in Unexpected Ways

Pastor and writer, Dr. Carlyle Marney was in his hospital room awaiting surgery.  He confessed he was uncharacteristically anxious about the entire experience.  A pastor friend had come to see him, talk to him and pray with him, but, he said, that was no help.  The hospital chaplain, also a friend, stopped by to talk to him but, again, Marney felt no peace as he prepared to go to surgery.  Then, the attendant showed up take Marney from his hospital room to the operating room.  He helped Marney slide from his hospital bed onto the gurney he used to transport patients.  This large African-American man sensed that his passenger was frightened.  As he pushed the gurney down the hallway, he grabbed Marney’s big toe, squeezed it tightly and said, “Preacher Marney, you in God’s hand and everything gonna be alright.”  Marney said that, in that moment, those simple words from an unlikely messenger brought peace to his heart and he knew he would be fine. 

The God who sent our Savior from an out-of-the-way small village like
Bethlehem is the same God who still sends messages of hope to you and me in unexpected ways.  Perhaps even more amazing is the fact that God can make you one of those surprising messengers of hope.  Just think; you might be in the position to squeeze the big toe of someone on a frightening journey and bring hope and peace to their hearts.  

Clothe the Little Ones in Your Colors

When this picture of Juliana was made, she was not quite three months old.  You might find it amazing that, at such a young age, she has already chosen the university she will support and for which she will wear team apparel.  The truth is, she hasn’t actually chosen a college yet.  Her parents decided that their love for Clemson is so clear and strong that they will actually dress their child in it.  One day, Juliana will choose a college for herself.  It may be Clemson.  It may be the one you’d pick for her.  But she is going to grow up knowing what team her parents love. 

I’ve heard some parents say, “I’m not going to involve my child in any particular religion. I want them to be free to choose when they’re old enough to understand.” When I hear that, I want to ask parents, “Do you know Jesus?  Do you love Jesus?  If you do, you will want to raise your child, from day one, knowing who you love and live for.  One day, each child will make a choice about following Jesus.  Some will choose to follow Him.  Others will not.  But if you believe Jesus is the Savior of the world, the one way to salvation, the Lord we can follow to an abundant life, then don’t you want your child to come to his or her choice knowing as much as they can about the Christ you love?  Shouldn’t they grow up clothed in your love for Christ?

No, our youngest children don’t understand everything about the Christian faith, but they are having their first and foundational experiences that profoundly shape the way they see life, themselves, other people, and God.  So, we bring the little children to Jesus. We clothe them in our colors to prepare them to make the best choice about Him.  

A Tough Question God Asked Me

I want to tell you about a tough question God has asked me.  I could take you to the very place where I first sensed it.  We wouldn’t have to go very far.  I was sitting at the desk in the pastor’s study of this church.  I hadn’t been here very long.  I’d unpacked all my boxes of books and sermons and files.  I’d hung my pictures on the walls, put my guitars in the closet and my Andy Griffith Show DVDs on the shelf.  I was here.  But as I sat at my desk that day, staring into a computer screen and struggling to focus my heart on the work I’d come here to do, I realized that part of me was far away, about a hundred miles away, to be precise.  As much as I’d wanted to leave them behind, I’d brought with me some deep wounds, nightmarish memories of the most hurtful experience I’d known in more than thirty years of ministry.  I’d talked to friends, colleagues, and mentors in an effort to unpack some of my thoughts and feelings and, hopefully, begin a healing process.  Those steps were good, but still I felt stuck.  Too many thoughts and feelings focused on apologies I was owed, people who needed to be held accountable, and second-guessing every word I said and choice I’d made during that ordeal.  It was like a bad song you hear on the radio and can’t get out of your head.  As I sat there, with one foot in the present and the other stuck in the miry clay of the past, God posed a question to me.  This one didn’t come through a lecture or a friend’s testimony.  I was alone with God when He asked,

What do you want to do with the rest of your life?

I’m not the world’s greatest goal-setter or plan-maker, so my first answer was an honest, “I don’t know.” God, the Wonderful Counselor, pointed me toward a place where I could begin to build an answer.  

“Do you want to spend the rest of your life doing this; trying to fix the past, waiting for others to repent of their ways, beating your head against an emotional brick wall, or do you want something better?” 

“I really do want something better,” I answered.

“What pieces of that better life can you see?” 

“I want you serve You here with my whole heart.

I want to do the best preaching I’ve ever done.

I want to enjoy my family, my children, my grandchildren.

I’ve never written a book.  I think I have something to say.

I’ve never been on a foreign mission trip.  I can do that here.”

That day, that question, those first steps toward an answer, were a turning point in my life.  

I don’t take your hurts lightly.  I understand your desire to make bad times make sense, to somehow feel a great wrong has been made right, to finally feel closure of an opened wound. 

I’m not God, but God is here.  And I believe, with all my heart, that He wants your life to be about today’s joys and tomorrow’s dreams much more than yesterday’s hurts.  And, as He sees you stuck in the past with time slipping away like water through your fingers, He may be here to ask you what He asked me, to turn your heart away from a past stained by others’ sins toward a future waiting to be created by His love.  Hurting friend, “What do you want to do with the rest of your life?”

Stopping Violence Before It Starts

(Matthew 5:21-22)"You have heard that it was said to the people long ago, 'Do not murder, and anyone who murders will be subject to judgment.' 22 But I tell you that anyone who is angry with his brother will be subject to judgment. Again, anyone who says to his brother, 'Raca, 'is answerable to the Sanhedrin. But anyone who says, 'You fool!' will be in danger of the fire of hell.

A medical student told me that he had spent most of his day in the cadaver lab, dissecting a human body.  I asked him if that work, as important as it was to his studies and future service, was difficult.  He replied that he had learned a trick that made his assignment easier.  He said the first step in working with a cadaver is to cut off the face, making the body look less like an actual human being.  Once that's done, he observed, cutting that body to pieces is much easier.  

In times of conflict, we come up with demeaning names to describe our enemies.  Fighting is much easier when we make our enemies seem a little less than human. We use our words to cut off their faces, to categorize them as something less than human.  

In the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus describes three dehumanizing steps we take in our hearts: 

The first is anger, not a moment of frustration as we have with any person, but a ever-simmering anger that focuses on and broods over another person’s faults and failures. 

The second step, says Jesus, is to say Raca!  This is a name of contempt, a word that says that I see nothing to value, nothing to respect, nothing worth living in you. 

Jesus says that the third step in dehumanizing others is to call someone a fool.  This is a special kind of fool.  This is the fool who says in his heart that there is no God.  Calling someone this kind of fool means that you look at that person as being separated from God, even opposed to God.   That kind of person is a little easier to destroy. 

Resentment, contempt, condemnation—these are not just private thoughts and feelings.  Jesus says that these are steps toward murder.  Murder begins when I dehumanize another person, when I make him or her seem not quite like a real person to me.  When I cut off his face, I find it much easier to cut him to pieces. 

I must stop this violence in my heart if I am going to play a part in stopping it in my world.  I must ask Christ to touch my eyes and allow me to see others as He sees them.  My view of every person must be this:

This person is a miracle of God, created in His image, a person for whom Christ died.