I am not a stranger to the dark
Hide away, they say
'Cause we don't want your broken parts
I've learned to be ashamed of all my scars
Run away, they say
No one'll love you as you are
But I won't let them break me down to dust
I know that there's a place for us
For we are glorious
So, begins the song, “This Is Me” from the
recent film, The Greatest Showman. The movie is a musical based on the
life of P.T. Barnum, and his creation of the Barnum and Bailey Circus. It is
sung by a bearded lady and chorused by people who were then called “oddities”,
and I have to say that it nearly brought me to tears.
That’s not because I have a soft spot for
musical theater. It’s because I have a soft spot for the church. What I saw in
this collection of people that others might label as misfits and freaks is what
I have come to experience in the church of Jesus Christ.
You may not think of me as such a person, truly
if anything I’ve been given the role of ring leader. Yet I have not always felt
that way. Even though I have been – and still am – part of a privileged class
in our society, there has always been a part of me that felt that I did not
quite fit in. Yet the church has always been a place of love and acceptance for
me.
It makes me wonder, how much more precious
might the blessing of love be for the one that is not privileged. How much more
sacred does the church feel to the one that is rejected in other communities.
How much more precious is the bridge that we form between heaven and earth for
the one who has burned all of her bridges between friend and foe and all those
between.
I say the bridge we form, but only in the sense
that we – the church – are the body of Christ, and individually members of that
same body. The message of hope that we share is the same message that Peter shared
in front of the religious leaders of his day. This message is that Jesus, the
one they rejected, is the one through whom God is acting to save and redeem.
Jesus had told the disciples that when they
were accused, the Holy Spirit would give them the words to say, and so it was
with Peter. He quoted Psalm 118, because Jesus had opened their minds to
understand that this Psalm was not just about David, it was about their
rejection of Jesus. Then he goes one further and tells these importantly named
leaders that there is only one name that can actually forgive and heal and
restore – and that is Jesus.
For some of us that is a great comfort. For
some of us it is not. Being an inclusive community with an exclusive claim on
salvation raises all kind of questions about what kind of God is OK with that,
and what followers of that God might do when push comes to shove. While these
are good questions to ask, I think the texts we have today are more focused on
whether or not we reject Jesus, what accepting him means for us, and what we
are supposed to do about the rejected and unloved ones around us.
When I say that we are being asked if we reject
Jesus, what I really mean is “are we loving in the way that Jesus loved?” That’s
what 1 John wants to know. Are we loving sacrificially? Are we loving in a way
that love is its own reward? Are we loving in a way that convicts us when we
don’t and leaves us feeling hollowed out until we do?
I can’t say what that will look like for you,
but I can say this – according to 1 John – sacrificial loving is the only way
to know that you are abiding in the presence of God in this life. Not only
that, but he links sin and love and salvation to our relationships with one
another – especially with the poor.
The great moral crisis for 1 John is to be sure
that we are treating each other with equity and justice and he seems to just
slip it in there off handedly. It’s as if he’s saying, “If we love God, why is
there poverty?” Then he finishes it with, “Look, God’s going to take care of
you if you just take care of each other.”
He doesn’t seem to care about the question of, “What
happens if I give everything to the poor and then I become poor?” He simply
cares that we love God and we love one another.
Some 50 years ago, the question of loving those
in poverty was being answered by Martin Luther King Jr. through his development
of the Poor People’s Campaign. Many in this room may even remember the
organizing work that he did on behalf of the economically oppressed. It has even
been said that it was because of this work that he was killed.
Dr. King’s work left a legacy of change, and
yet some claim that voting rights and restrictions continue to neglect people
of color – perhaps even more than ever before.
While we have had great gains in economic opportunities for people of
color, they still make up a disproportionate part of those in poverty. Many
still find themselves ghettoized and limited by school zone policies and
gerrymandered voting districts for both parties.
How can this be, if we have accepted the love
of God? How can this be if we are truly living sacrificially?
I don’t have any political solutions, but I
have a theological one. Our nation may be founded on Christian principals, but
it is not a nation of only Christians. It won’t ever be, unless there is a
manifestation of love so powerful that it overwhelms and convicts us all.
That’s where you and I come in. You and I are
the ones that are able to look at the brokenness of the world and say that we
have a shepherd that is good and capable of caring for you and for me and for
all the brokenness of the world at the same time. We have the opportunity of
lifting that message up and letting it spill out in acts of love and mercy and
joy – because we are sheep.
I will admit that last part may not sell really
well. Most of us think of sheep as blind followers, and that’s because we have
no idea what sheep and shepherding are all about. There is actually a fair
amount of intimacy and trust – just as it says in our reading from John’s
Gospel.
Sheep know and recognize their shepherd’s
voice. Not only that, they recognize faces and learn who they are – who they
can trust. Of course, we all know that they are heard animals. They like
consistency. They mate for life, some even choosing a same gendered partner.
They startle easily. It takes time and routine for changes in behavior to come
about. That’s not so bad, except that we have to realize that we aren’t the
only sheep.
Not only that, but it is essential to the work
of the shepherd that new sheep be added from outside of the flock. John was
most likely talking about the gentiles, those “God fearers” that hung about at
the fringes of Jewish custom and practice.
It certainly is convenient to leave the claim
of “other sheep” with them, but I don’t think it’s quite that simple. No, our
calling is to love those from the outside in such a way that they would want to
be part of the inside. Our task is to love sacrificially, not in order to get
others to join but because of the love that has been given to us.
My hope is that we might seek out those in
need. My hope is that this could be a place where the ones others call freaks
and disappointments will recognize that they are, in fact, enough.
There’s a story about that I want to leave you
with. It comes from Nadia Boltz Weber, a Lutheran Pastor of the Church for
Sinners and Saints. You wouldn’t guess it from her colored shirt, but her arms
are covered in tattoos. She’s an addict in recovery, and she’s not shy about
it. One of the stories she tells is about an early time in the development of
her young congregation. They had to have a meeting, because they were starting
to get some people that were a little different than their usual crowd. These
new people were suburbanites. They wore khakis and such.
Rev. Boltz Weber was actually concerned,
because most of her flock were people of little power and influence – unlike
the new crowd. The amazing shift came from the voice of a young, gay teenager
who said, “I’m really glad that they’re here, because they look like my
parents. My parents still don’t accept me for who I am, but here at church
these people do.” And that settled it. There was nothing left to do but love
and sacrifice and accept.
It is the same for you and for me. Loving is
often hard, and it requires us to let go of things. It requires us to pick up
some things. It requires us to see the value in the valueless, hope in the
hopeless, and love in the loveless.
All of this – our acceptance of Jesus that we
demonstrate through accepting one another – comes down to one thing. That is
the way we live, together and apart, in response to the resurrection of Jesus.
Think on that, because at the end of worship
today we are once again filling out cards that finish the sentence, “Because he
lives…” Today, given that we’ve been talking about putting love into action, I’d
like you to think of an action to use to finish the sentence. “Because he
lives, I will…”
Be bold! Be creative! Be open to the
possibility of love that makes you even ask God for more opportunities to love.
For God will surely provide. Amen.
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