Relentless Love

PROPERS:          PROPER 22, YEAR B  

TEXT:                MARK 10:2-16

PREACHED AT ST. PAUL’S CHAPEL, MAGNOLIA SPRINGS, ON SUNDAY, OCTOBER 3, 2021.

 

ONE SENTENCE:        God’s love for us is relentless, and it is the standard to which we are called.

 

            This past Tuesday, Nora and I traveled to Christ Church, Pensacola, for the funeral of the wife of a fellow priest.  It was, perhaps, the most moving funeral I have ever been to.

 

            The funeral was for Jane Graves, the wife of the Reverend Bob Graves, a long-time priest of this diocese.  The church was nearly full – a rare sight for a funeral for someone of advanced age.  There were dozens of clergy there, too – an even more rare sight.

 

            The large crowd was testimony to widespread affection for Jane – a quiet, lovely, grace-filled woman loved by all who knew her.  But it was also for Bob – one of the rarest of priests I have ever known.  He seems utterly without ego – a deeply humble man who loves as generously as anyone I have ever seen.  He embodies the Gospel.

 

            One of the great mysteries of knowing Bob Graves is this: Everyone that knows him and has been pastored by him feels as if he is their best friend.  There is a special bond with this remarkably compassionate man of God.

 

            Commenting on the large crowd for the funeral, the rector of Christ Church, Michael Huffman, said that “Bob has pastored everyone here.”  More to the point, Bishop Kendrick noted to another priest that “Bob has a relentless love for all of us.”

 

            What an interesting phrase.  And what a great testimony. “A relentless love.”

 

            It got me thinking about the gospel.

 

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            Whether we realize it or not, Jesus is always talking to us about the human condition.  It should be the central focus in our minds as we listen to the gospel lesson and sermon each week. The human condition is something with which we are all afflicted, and it is that human tendency which causes us to fall short of the glory of God. Another way of saying that is it is the reason we sin.

 

            In the gospel lesson today, we have an excellent example of the human condition – failed, broken relationships. It is so easy and tempting to reduce this passage to a one-dimensional moral teaching about marriage. It is so much more than that. 

 

While this passage is about divorce specifically, the issue is much broader. Why do we not truly love one another?  Why does the human condition afflict our lives?

 

            Jesus says simply: It is because of hardness of heart.

 

            The prescription for the human condition – take one, and call me in the morning – is to aspire to the way of God. To follow the path that Jesus has trod.

 

            And what is that way, you may ask.

 

            Relentless love.

 

            Though our culture may place limits or rules on God’s love for us, it is relentless, without limits.  No matter where life and our decisions lead us, God pursues us. As Psalm 139 notes:

 

¹ O Lord, you have searched me and known me.
² You know when I sit down and when I rise up;
    you discern my thoughts from far away.
³ You search out my path and my lying down,
    and are acquainted with all my ways.
⁴ Even before a word is on my tongue,
    O Lord, you know it completely.
⁵ You hem me in, behind and before,
    and lay your hand upon me.
⁶ Such knowledge is too wonderful for me;
    it is so high that I cannot attain it.

⁷ Where can I go from your spirit?
    Or where can I flee from your presence?
⁸ If I ascend to heaven, you are there;
    if I make my bed in Sheol, you are there.
⁹ If I take the wings of the morning
    and settle at the farthest limits of the sea,
¹⁰ even there your hand shall lead me,
    and your right hand shall hold me fast.
¹¹ If I say, “Surely the darkness shall cover me,
    and the light around me become night,”
¹² even the darkness is not dark to you;
    the night is as bright as the day,
    for darkness is as light to you.

 

            No matter where we go… no matter where life takes us… no matter the poor choices we make… regardless of self-destructive behaviors and pits of despair… God follows us. He pursues us. He seeks us. He is relentless.  That’s true for you, in every single circumstance, and it is true for me.

 

            In the same way, we are called to be imitators of Christ – to share relentless love… to love without limits… to forgive copiously… to reconcile fearlessly.  We are to shed arrogance, pride, resentment, and bitterness. 

            When we fall short of that goal, recognize that we are like the Prodigal Son: We are welcomed back by the open arms of a loving father’s relentless love. 

Kindness as a Characteristic of Mission

PROPERS:          PROPER 21, YEAR B  

TEXT:                MARK 9:38 - 50

PREACHED AT ST. PAUL’S CHAPEL, MAGNOLIA SPRINGS, ON SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 26, 2021.

 

ONE SENTENCE:        Jesus calls us to reflect the graciousness of God’s realm.

 

            Nora and I have had three opportunities in the past to attend the Grand Ole Opry.  Each has been a great experience for unique reasons. We have thus far avoided eating the show’s chosen candy, Goo Goo Cluster.

 

            I cannot be easily classified as a country music fan.  My basic philosophy is that if you tell a story about a guy losing his girlfriend, his truck breaking down, and his dog dying, you’ve got a recipe for a country hit.

 

            The first time we attended the Opry, there were two songs which had lyrics that stuck with me.

 

            One involved a singer – not a big name – crooning a baleful story of the sadness of the movie, E. T. (a very popular movie at that time).  But when the singer came to the refrain, his words were, “E. T. still means Ernest Tubb to me.”

 

            Later in that same show, another performer – again, not a big name – sang a song about how harried life had become for him.  He was anxious and at wit’s end. His summary refrain was this: “Smokin’ cigarettes by the carton, drinkin’ coffee by the pound, and slowly pullin’ my hair out by the roots…”

 

            But occasionally, country music has a more meaningful message… just like our hymns. Sometimes they carry a meaningful message – even theology. More on that in a minute.

 

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            In the gospel lesson today, Jesus has been wandering with his disciples.  They’ve been to Tyre, on the Mediterranean Coast, Caesarea-Philippi in northern Israel, and now on the shore of the Sea of Galilee, in Capernaum.

 

            They are resting from their travels.  The disciples are upset, though. They are a territorial bunch.  They view the mission as theirs.  They don’t want interlopers infringing on their turf.  They bring their concerns to Jesus: “Teacher, we saw someone casting out demons in your name, and we tried to stop him, because he was not following us.” 

 

            Jesus must have been a bit bemused.  Here the disciples were, complaining about someone doing good works, without Jesus’ specific authorization.

 

            He replied: “Do not stop him; for no one who does a deed of power in my name will be able soon afterward to speak evil of me. Whoever is not against us is for us. For truly I tell you, whoever gives you a cup of water to drink because you bear the name of Christ will by no means lose the reward.”

 

            In other words, Jesus is telling his disciples not to be concerned over turf issues.  Don’t be so quick to judge. Give others the benefit of the doubt. In time, good deeds will bear fruit – the kindness you show will have long-term effects.

 

            Jesus goes on to speak in very dramatic metaphors about avoiding rash actions.  We are not called to take those literal actions – cutting our hand or foot off or plucking our eye out – but we are called to avoid rash actions.  Jesus is making that point clearly and emphatically.

 

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            Which brings me back to country music.

 

            In 1970, a young singer named Glen Campbell recorded a song called Try a Little Kindness. Of course, he had recorded hits such as By the Time I Get to Phoenix, the Wichita Lineman, and Galveston. Try a Little Kindness was a hit.  It was nominated for song of the year.  The refrain went like this:

 

You've got to try a little kindness
Yes, show a little kindness
Just shine your light for everyone to see
And if you try a little kindness
Then you'll overlook the blindness
Of narrow-minded people on the narrow-minded streets.

 

            Christianity – as Jesus proclaimed it – is a broad-minded view of the world.  It calls us to have eyes that are open to all sorts of possibilities – to view the complexities of life through the eyes of grace. To be kind to one another.

 

            He tells us to Let you light shine, that others may see, and give glory to your Father in Heaven.

 

            But we champ at that bit. It is our human, innate tendency to be narrow-minded, reflecting the objectionable behavior that Glen Campbell sang about. We assume intentions or motivations – and we do not address them directly. That narrow-mindedness – the assumption – festers and boils over, constricting our potential to interact with others in a way that Jesus would.

 

            If you think for a moment of how God views your life -- with all its ups and downs, successes and failures – and really ponder that, your view of the world and others will change. You are much less likely to assume. The grip of anger you may feel, the sense of betrayal, the desire to control circumstances, your frustration with others, to explain the way things really are – all that will begin to dissipate. And as you take that view on a daily basis, your relationship to the world and others will change.

 

            Each of us should remember: You have no earthly idea the burdens another person is carrying.  You cannot assume their thoughts or motivations. That person is a beloved Child of God, just like you.

 

            Grace is a characteristic of God’s relationship to us.  We should aspire to live that characteristic in our relationship to others. 

Defining the Hyphen

 PROPERS:          PROPER 20, YEAR B  

TEXT:                MARK 9:30-37; THE COLLECT OF THE DAY

PREACHED AT ST. PAUL’S CHAPEL, MAGNOLIA SPRINGS, ON SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 19, 2021.

 

ONE SENTENCE:        The faith, which we define, can sometime separate us; but it is also what brings out of many, one.

 

 

 

            Some years ago, I was assisting with the interment of some ashes at the Diocese of Mississippi’s conference center. A friend, who is also a British priest, Tim Jones, was the celebrant and preacher.

 

            He offered a pertinent observation.  He noted that the span of life on a tombstone is represented by a simple hyphen between the date of birth and the date of death.  All the details of that person’s life are compressed into a simple hyphen. The many ups and downs, triumphs and tragedies, joys and sorrows, successes and losses – major and mundane – are all reduced to that simple punctuation mark.

 

            Think about that.  How would it reflect on your life?

 

            This past Wednesday, the first lesson for our weekly healing service and Eucharist was from St. Paul’s First Letter to the Corinthians.  The passage had been on my mind from the day before.  It included these words from the apostle to a church bitterly divided: “^2:1When I came to you, brothers and sisters, I did not come proclaiming the mystery of God to you in lofty words or wisdom. ² For I decided to know nothing among you except Jesus Christ, and him crucified.” 

 

            Imagine the audacity of reducing Jesus’ life to the simple phrase: to know nothing among you except Jesus Christ, and him crucified.

 

            I admire St. Paul’s focus. But how do you do that?  As the old saying goes, the devil is in the details.  There are a lot of details in the story of Jesus – and debates about them go back to the earliest days of the church.

 

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            Each of us understands the story and meaning of Jesus in a unique way. Through passages of scripture, we have knelt at the manger, we have walked with him through Galilee, we have heard his parables, we have stood at the foot of the cross, and we have entered the empty tomb – and more.

 

            There is a certain unity that comes from sharing those stories on a weekly basis.  Together we hear the accounts of him healing a woman of a long-term illness, his admonition today to welcome children in his name, of feeding thousands with five barley loaves and two fish, and of standing silent before Pilate, who could release him from execution.

 

            Through those and other stories we are changed.  We touch the cloak of the divine. Our lives are molded and formed.  Hopefully, we are humbled and transformed.

 

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            Sadly, the influence of culture has tainted both the humility and transformation that Jesus has bestowed.

 

            Over the years, I have seen various tides of bitterness, resentment, and division that have sundered God’s people. We have seen it over issues of race, sexuality, gender, and most recently, political philosophy.  Please don’t hear me demeaning or minimizing those disagreements and the reasons for them.  God has been known in those debates… and our society has been refined by the vigorous discourse.  God’s work has been done.

 

            But there is a certain vitriol that has seeped into the latest episodes.  It is like the Civil War – brother against brother, friend against friend, father against son, mother against daughter.

 

            Society has become polarized, and we see its evidence day after day.  One of the primary culprits and enablers of that division is called new media.

 

            In an excellent long-form column this past week, Washington Post columnist George Will reflected on his 50-year career writing columns and the rise of the 24-hour news cycle and social media. He wrote about the ill effects of words being written or spoken on the new media posts that should not ever have been written – or even thought.

 

            The problems that this world faces are deeply rooted and are enflamed by shallow, reactive, bombastic observations shouted over the megaphone of Facebook, news channels or other outlets.  Those problems call for reasonable, thoughtful, informed discourse which acknowledges the complex sources of those very issues.

 

            The virus of those strong and bitter opinions – right and left – has invaded the sacred walls of the church.  It has replicated and has caused us to define ourselves and others as right or wrong.

 

            There is a tendency to disagree about the definition of the hyphen, when it is the essence of the hyphen which unites us.

 

            Our identities – our primary identities – should not be sources of division, such as Republican, Democrat, independent, Liberal, Conservative, Moderate, or Libertarian, but instead should be as a Child of God.

 

            We should see ourselves and others inside this building as brothers and sisters, for whom Christ died.  Every one of us.

 

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            There was a certain genius present in 1776 when John Adams, Benjamin Franklin, and Thomas Jefferson offered a Latin motto for the nascent union of people, states and philosophies: E pluribus unum.  Out of many, one.

 

            Our nation has struggled to attain the fullness of that motto.  That struggle continues.

 

            But that same sentiment was present in the early Church when slaves and free, Jews and Gentiles, Greeks and Romans,  people of wealth and people of poverty came together to worship God and the resurrected Christ.

 

            We are Christian heirs of that same motto. Out of many, one. In this chapel here, there is a diversity of views represented. Our task is to live that unity in this building and then… and then… take that same unity into the world outside our doors. To be the light shining in the darkness… a light which will not be overcome.

 

            The late Indian Jesuit, Anthony DeMello, wrote a brief meditation entitled, The River.  It was not about a river, but about perspective – that time and distance place our anxieties, our worries, our disagreements in perspective. The further we move away from a problem or disagreement in time and space, the less and less monumental they become.

 

            That same wisdom is reflected in our collect today.  Hear those words again: Grant us, Lord, not to be anxious about earthly things, but to love things heavenly; and even now, while we are placed among things that are passing away, to hold fast to those that shall endure; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

 

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            When people disagree, we should be mindful of the passage from today’s gospel lesson: Then they came to Capernaum; and when he was in the house he asked them, “What were you arguing about on the way?” But they were silent, for on the way they had argued with one another who was the greatest. He sat down, called the twelve, and said to them, “Whoever wants to be first must be last of all and servant of all.”

 

            As people of faith, we are called to be like St. Paul: to know Jesus Christ and him crucified. And with our words and actions, and in our diversity, say, “We believe.”

What Say Ye?

 PROPERS:          PROPER 19, YEAR B  

TEXT:                MARK 8:27-38

PREACHED AT ST. PAUL’S CHAPEL, MAGNOLIA SPRINGS, ON SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 12, 2021.

 

ONE SENTENCE:        Who we say Jesus is is indicative of the depth of our faith – and our willingness to act on it.       

 

 

 

            Jesus is in the boondocks in today’s gospel passage.  Caesarea-Philippi is in extreme northern Israel, at the foot of the snow-capped Mt. Hermon.  Even at Jesus’ time, the remote village was a monument to ancient Greek god Pan, God of the Wild and of flocks and herds.

 

            Almost within spitting distance of that ancient site are Israel’s borders with Syria and Lebanon.  Hezbollah rockets have routinely fallen in the nearby town of Qiryat Shemona.  This is contested territory today.

 

            But not in Jesus’ time. It is here that the baptismal waters which will ultimately become the Jordan River emerge from the base of Mount Hermon and begin their winding way to the Sea of Galilee and, ultimately, the Dead Sea.

 

            There is a massive grotto and a beautiful waterfall there.  It is to this place that Jesus has brought his disciples – some 25 miles due north of his home-base in Capernaum – to retreat and pose the essential question: “Who do people say that I am?”

 

            I suspect that the disciples were first stunned by the question.  There may have been an awkward but thoughtful silence. Then they began to answer: “John the Baptist; and others Elijah; and some others, one of the prophets.”

 

            But Jesus wants more: “But who do YOU say that I am?”

 

            I suspect Peter was usually the first to speak in most situations.  He seldom had an unspoken thought. And in this case, he does not disappoint: “You are the Messiah.” That means the “anointed one” – the one to deliver Israel from the perils of history.

 

            It is the same question Jesus poses to us today: “Who do you say that I am?”

 

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            It is tempting and easy to be flippant.  Of course, you know who he is.  Why else would you be here?  We recite the Creed – the essential statement of church faith – every Sunday.  What else is there?

 

            But there is more.  Much more.  How we answer that question – deeply and profoundly – affects the impact of Jesus on our lives.

 

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            James Fowler dealt with that concept and the result of his work is very insightful.  He sought to quantify the ineffable – to explain the mysterious.  He wrote a book entitled Stages of Faith. The upshot has to do with how we answer Jesus’ question – not verbally, but in our lives, practically.

 

            James Fowler identified six levels of faith.  They range from the cultural, almost superstitious level to a profound, mature, trusting faith.  There was no judgement of any level, but there was an increasingly solid foundation with each level.

 

            It reflected Jesus’ teaching that house built on rock is more resilient than a house built on sand.  A house built on rock can resist storms more easily than a house built on sand. So, a deeper, more mature level of faith provides greater stability.

 

            You have known people at all levels of faith.  There are likely all six levels represented here this morning.  Those people of greatly mature faith have had a tremendous impact on my life.  They are true saints who have walked this earth. But most of us barely dip our toes in the faith.

 

            How do we deepen our faith?  How do we respond to Jesus’ question with more faith?

 

            I wish I had a simple answer to those questions. However, my best advice is to go deeper.  Resist the temptation of easy answers.  Pray for deeper faith, and then seek it.  To do so is analogous to building muscle mass – exercise, resistance, again and again.

 

            As you exercise those muscles of faith, you will find yourself responding more deeply to Jesus’ question: “Who do you say that I am?”

The Gift of Insight

PROPERS:          PROPER 18, YEAR B  

TEXT:                MARK 7:24-37

PREACHED AT ST. PAUL’S CHAPEL, MAGNOLIA SPRINGS, ON SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 5, 2021.

 

ONE SENTENCE:        The gift of genuine insight brings on humility.        

 

 

 

            One of the greatest – and perhaps least-appreciated – gifts we can be given is the gift of insight.

 

            Sometimes that gift comes from within – when we learn by personal experience that we are wrong or that we have acted improperly.  I have had that experience many times and it is always chastening.  It has caused me to consume large servings of humble pie and has led to actions – on my part – which brought healing of relationships.

 

            When we are unable to learn from experience, there is a tendency to become arrogant and isolated.  But, when we are open to insight, there is the possibility of new or renewed relationships.

 

            I have found that some of the most freeing words we have are, “I’m sorry.”

 

            The gift of insight can come in many ways – if we are open to it.  Jesus shows us that it is indeed a divine attribute in the gospel lesson today.

 

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            Jesus has wandered as far north as he will go in his earthly life.  Maybe he is even getting a little beach time – on the Lebanese coast, in the village of Tyre.  He is on the shores of the Mediterranean Sea.

 

            He may be trying to get away.  The demands of his ministry likely have been weighing on him.  So, he is seeking some solitude. I’m sure you know that yearning.

 

            But it is not to be.  His reputation has preceded him. His presence is like trying to hide sunshine from a rooster.

 

            A woman comes to him.  But not just any woman.  She is Syrophoenician – meaning she is descended from the Syrians, who once conquered Israel, and the Phoenicians, who the Israelites (and Samson) battled for many years.  On top of that, she is Gentile – a non-Jew.  She would be spurned by any faithful Jew, such as Jesus.

 

            She is seeking healing for her young daughter. Her daughter has a demon, and the mother wants the demon exorcised.

 

            Jesus is not moved.  He knows her race, her lineage, her heritage. He may be blinded by what his people have thought of other groups.  He does not wish to spend time or energy on her. He says to her, “Let the children be fed first, for it is not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs.”

 

            Jesus assumes that rebuff will be enough to send her on her way.  But she surprises him.

 

“Sir, even the dogs under the table eat the children’s crumbs.” 

 

            In those few words, Jesus has been given a generous gift of insight.

 

“For saying that, you may go—the demon has left your daughter.” 

 

            The woman went home, and she found her daughter healed.

 

            Even our Lord learned from his encounters with others. A collection of sermons by the late Reverend John Claypool was entitled, “Opening Blind Eyes”.  Jesus’ eyes had been opened.

 

 

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            The gospel lesson connects in a meaningful way to our Collect of the Day. It includes 

these simple words of prayer for all of us: “Grant us, O Lord, to trust in you with all our hearts; for, as you always resist the proud who confide in their own strength, so you never forsake those who make their boast of your mercy…”

 

            The challenge is for us – for all of us, you and me – is to recognize our human frailty, our own inherent tendencies, our own arrogance, our own self-righteousness, and our own failings as human beings.  No matter how “right” we may believe ourselves to be, we are to recognize that we are not yet recipients of the fullness of reality.  We have much left to learn.  All of us.

 

            More importantly:  We are dependent on the grace of God in life – to open our eyes to see the truth.  No matter how self-sufficient and self-righteous we may feel, each of us is utterly dependent on the grace of God.

 

            And with that realization – full and deep – we are given a generous gift of humility. 

 

            Coming with the gift of humility is the gift of insight – to be given the gift of new sight. 

No Foul Deed is Final

 PROPERS:          PROPER 13, YEAR B  

TEXT:                2 SAMUEL 11:26 – 12:13a

PREACHED AT ST. PAUL’S CHAPEL, MAGNOLIA SPRINGS, ON SUNDAY, AUGUST 1, 2021.

 

ONE SENTENCE:        Again and again throughout faith history, there are ample examples of God’s redemptive power. 

 

 

            The first lesson today is the second half of one of my favorite passages in the Old Testament.  The first half was last week’s first lesson.  It is the extraordinary story of David and Bathsheba.

 

            Let me set the scene.

 

            David is the powerful king of Israel.  He is relaxing on the patio atop his palace. As he looks down on the surrounding houses, the open courtyards are easily visible to him.  He sees a beautiful woman bathing in her courtyard, and he lusts for her.

 

            He sends for her – the wife of a soldier in his army.  Her name is Bathsheba, and her husband is Uriah the Hittite.  She comes at the command of her king, and in the biblical euphemistic way of speaking, he lay with her.

 

            A pregnancy results from the union – which poses a terrible problem for David. So, David plots.

 

            Uriah, Bathsheba’s husband, is away with the troops – fighting the king’s wars.  David sends for him, figuring that Uriah will come home at the king’s command, go to his house, have relations with his wife, and the scandal of the royally-induced pregnancy will go away.

 

            However, David did not factor-in Uriah’s faithfulness. Uriah refuses to go to his house. “As long as the king’s armies are in battle, I will not do such a thing.” Uriah sleeps instead at the doorway to the king’s palace. So, David’s scheme fails.

 

            David plots even further.  He sends Uriah back to the front, with a sealed message to the commander, Joab. “Send Uriah into the forefront the fiercest battle and then withdraw from him, that he may be struck down and die.” That is precisely what happened, and David’s plot seemed to have succeeded.

 

            David brought Bathsheba to his palace and took her for his wife.

 

            But Nathan the prophet came to David and told him a fantastic tale of injustice.  It seemed, according to Nathan, that a wealthy man with large flocks and herds, had a visitor come to his home.  There was also a poor man in the same area who had a single ewe lamb that was a family pet. It ate the meager fare of the man’s table and slept at the man’s bosom at night.

 

            The rich man did something dastardly, Nathan told David. Instead of taking a lamb from his own flocks, he slaughtered the poor man’s lamb and served it to his guest.

 

            David was outraged! “As the Lord lives, the man who has done this deserves to die!”

 

            Nathan now had David completely ensnared.  He looked at David and pointed his finger at him: “You are the man!” Nathan went on to pronounce God’s judgment on David. David confessed.

 

            The child born to Bathsheba of that illicit relationship with David died.

 

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            Another story.

 

            John Newton was born in 1725 in England. His mother died when he was seven years old.  He went to sea at age 11, accompanying his father, a ship’s captain, on six voyages. By the time he was 17, his father had retired, but he continued his seafaring life.  He ultimately became a captain of his own ship and focused on the slave trade.

 

            John Newton trafficked in human cargo for years – taking enslaved men and women from Africa to the United Kingdom.  He was, in fact, enslaved himself at one time.  But he spent his seafaring years in taking human beings into slavery and selling them on the open market.

 

            It was a despicable way to live.

 

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            Another story: There was a priest I knew who served a variety of churches.  He was quite gifted.

 

            He was married.  Sadly, he developed an adulterous relationship with a woman in his parish.  She, too, was married.  And a child was born of that illicit relationship.

 

            Add to the complexities of that situation the fact that the priest had become addicted to alcohol.

 

            He was confronted about the situation and confessed.  He was suspended from the priesthood, losing a means to earn a livelihood, and a chance to exercise a calling. Considering the situation and his active addiction, the chances of coming back were remote.

 

            It was a sad story about a gifted priest.

 

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            What became of David, the fallen king… and John Newton, the callous slave trader… and the addicted and adulterous priest?

 

            David went on to rule Israel for 44 years.  He was the greatest of all kings in the Old Testament and deeply revered in Jewish history.

 

            The redemptive power of God moved in his life.  He and Bathsheba gave birth to Solomon, the wisest of all kings… the king who built the first Temple in Jerusalem.

 

            John Newton, the slave trader, experienced a conversion experience.  Looking back on it in his later years, he saw it as gradual.  He became an Anglican priest and, from his bitter experience, was a moving force for the abolition of the slave trade.  He helped mold great leaders in that movement, such as William Wilberforce.

 

            Late in his life, he published a collection of hymns he had written.  Two of them we were to sing today – Glorious Things of Thee are Spoken and the much beloved, “Amazing Grace.”

 

            “Amazing Grace!  How Sweet the sound! That saved a wretch like me!”

 

            The priest to whom I referred entered treatment for his alcoholism. From that experience grew the passion for promoting healing in others.  He worked in recovery centers for several years, helping other broken souls find new life. He recognized the destructiveness of his previous life.

 

            He was restored to the priesthood and now faithfully serves a congregation. He continues his leadership in the recovery movement. He blesses many with his gifts. 

 

            The point is this:  There is no brokenness… no failure… no abyss so deep… that the redemptive power of God cannot overcome.  We need only be willing vessels for his movement, for his redeeming, renewing power.

 

            Men and women in the 12 Step Programs know this truth.  New life can come from deep and profound brokenness.  If we are willing.  If we open ourselves to the redemptive power.

 

            Again and again, we see this throughout faith history.  God’s ability is to convert our losses… our mistakes… our failures into the life to which he calls us.