Preached at First Presbyterian Church of Rolla on September 4, 2022. Based on Luke 14:25-33 (with a little look back at Luke 14:15-24).
Before I begin with this passage, I’d like to back up. The parable immediately before today’s reading is about a man who gave a great dinner and invited many, but they didn’t come. One said he had just bought some land. Another said he had just bought some oxen. And another said he had just been married. Possessions, work, and spouse—all barriers that kept people out of his party.
Then in today’s passage, Jesus says we must hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, life itself and all our possessions. Wow, that’s kind of a lot. Jesus asks his disciples not just to believe certain things, but to change their whole lives for his sake. He was trying to build a new world, one disciple at a time, and his new world would need to be so different that his followers had to abandon everything that tied them down.
Try to put yourself in the frame of mind of those first-century followers. Father, mother, wife, children, brothers, sisters—basically, your family, and therefore your clan and tribe. At that time and in that place, family, clan, and tribe defined your identity. They enabled you to function in normal society. The Roman government provided security in the form of an occupying army, but your family provided everything else. Jesus was saying, no, you’re not part of that family, you’re part of MY family. But by the way, so is everyone else, so take what you know about supporting those who are related to you by blood or marriage, and apply it to those who are related to you by MY blood.
Jesus knew it wouldn’t be easy. He told his disciples to take up their cross, which was a way of saying, be willing to die for the sake of my vision of a new world, God’s realm here on earth.
These days, we don’t have an occupying Roman government who crucifies rebels and dissenters. We don’t rely so explicitly on our families to support us. So how can we translate Jesus’s message to modern America?
Well, let’s start by thinking about our priorities. How do we decide what matters? How do we choose what to give up and what to hold onto? Our highest priority should be Jesus Christ, our Savior and Lord. That word, Lord—it means that he is in charge, and he sets the priorities. Well, as I said a month ago, Jesus has not yet appeared on clouds of glory, so we have to rely on what people wrote about him 2000 years ago, plus the Hebrew scriptures that witness to another 2000 years of people’s encounters with our God. Jesus told us how to interpret those writings. He said, in Matthew’s telling, “‘You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’ This is the greatest and first commandment. And a second is like it: ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’ On these two commandments hang all the Law and the Prophets.” So whenever we have a question about how to interpret the Bible, or how God is leading us, we should discern what it means to love God and love our neighbor.
One way to show our love of God is to worship. As many of you know, I went through some training that resulted in a certificate in Congregational Leadership from the University of Dubuque Theological Seminary. One course was on Reformed worship. Since Calvin’s time, we have followed a fourfold ordo. That is, regardless of the details of the order of worship, we follow a basic structure comprising Gathering, The Word, The Eucharist or Thanksgiving, and Sending. Within that structure, there are some things that are not negotiable, and others that are highly flexible. The gathering phase must include confession, along with assurance of pardon. It is not considered worship if the scriptures are not both read and preached. But which version of the Bible? Who does the preaching, and what does it even mean to preach? I assert that what we did in Fired Up!, reading the verse and discussing it, counts as preaching. Some preachers use media clips. Some sermons are five minutes, some are an hour. Oh, and what kind of music do we use? Where do we meet? When do we meet? Everything else is flexible.
I’m going to take a page out of Susan’s book and use the PowerPoint a little. Carey Nieuwhof is an author and consultant in church leadership. He recently re-posted a blog with a list of things churches must be willing to give up:
- Music
- Politics
- Style
- Buildings
- Money
- Time
- Our lives
This is tough. Let’s start at the top: music. Now, I love it when Lorie plays the organ, and I love the anthems the choir sings, and I love most of the hymns we sing. But, I don’t listen to any of that when I’m in the car, and I’m guessing most of you don’t either. Classical music stations are dying around the country. That’s just not what people listen to. Now, you could argue that worship should be different from pop culture, but I should remind you that at least some of the hymns we sing would have been considered pop culture at the time.
Politics. Nieuwhof was particularly targeting those churches who preach that being Christian means Thou Shalt Vote Republican, but I need to remind myself that being Christian means that I should owe no allegiance to any political party. As I saw on the church near my house, we are saved not by a donkey or an elephant, but by the Lamb. Both Jesus and his apostles like Paul preached not that the political structures should be changed, but that we are called to live in a different kind of kingdom. Yes, participate in politics, yes, rely on your beliefs including your religious beliefs when you vote, but no, Jesus was neither Republican nor Democrat. His message transcends any box that a political party would put him in.
Style. By that, Nieuwhof means that we shouldn’t fight about whether the carpets should be blue or gray or brown. I would also say that we need to relax about what people wear and how they look. Two people I have invited to worship over the years have asked me what would be considered appropriate. I’m not personally a fan of tattoos or piercings, but I tolerate Jesse’s and so should we all. On the flip side, I attended a retreat at a Jesuit center, so I attended Catholic Mass. Smells and bells—if they don’t have incense, it doesn’t seem like worship. Shorts and T-shirts are fine for the congregation, but the priest better be wearing his full liturgical vestments.
Buildings. Most of you have heard me say that this sanctuary was designed by a sadistic madman. NOTHING is straight. You all think it’s normal, but it really isn’t. The overall shape is a rhombus with 60° angles north and south, 120° angles east and west, instead of right angles like a normal building. You come in on the side and then have to scoot along super-long pews that are not very comfortable because of the hard wood across the middle of your back. OK, I’ve said my piece, and I’ll try to let it go. But the basic point is, this space is not terribly welcoming to visitors, especially those who are unchurched. It’s intimidating. The chapel is nice and intimate, but dark, so dark. But I’ve been in wonderful worship services in a city park or a church camp. God is there just as much as God is here.
Money. We are searching for an installed pastor, and people are rightly worried about where the money will come from to pay them. Any organization needs to have regular income to fund their operations. We’re also in the midst of a capital campaign. I’m not going to tell anyone how much they should give, but Nieuwhof’s point is that we need to put our money—individually and as a congregation—where we think it will serve God best. The church budget is ultimately a theological statement.
Time. I invest a lot of time in working to build God’s kingdom in visible ways, like preaching. Plenty of other people invest their time in the Church in ways that are similarly visible, and many others in ways that are hidden. But beyond that, we should be willing to organize our lives so that time with God and with God’s people is our top priority.
And finally, our lives. That’s what Jesus meant by taking up your cross. He didn’t mean to wear a little lapel pin like I do, or a necklace or earrings like some people do. He meant, live your life in such a way that you will be building God’s kingdom here and now, even if it means giving up your time, your money, your relationships, your status, your reputation, and ultimately even your life.
I think I’ve mentioned the so-called pilgrimage I’m on called, “Find Your Inner Monk.” The basic theme of the program is to identify your priorities, and then build your life in such a way that reflects those priorities. Just as a church budget is a theological document, so is a personal budget, and so is a calendar. If I say that a stronger relationship with my wife is one of my priorities, but then spend fourteen hours a day at the office seven days a week, well, obviously that relationship is not a priority. If I say that sharing God’s love with people outside this congregation is a priority but never talk to any of them, then that must not really be a priority.
A recent illustration in a Find Your Inner Monk lesson used Legos. Let’s suppose you have a limited supply of Legos, like this small set of 221 bricks. You build all of these things that are shown and use up all the bricks. Then you have an idea of something better to build. Well, the only way to proceed is to take apart something that you’ve already built. You can’t build something better without tearing down something good.
In the same way, we have a limited supply of time and money. Well, we can get more money, I guess, but each day, we have only 24 hours to spend, and some of it needs to be spent on sleep. How we structure our lives, how we spend our resources, how we act in the world, will determine the impact that we have.
I’d like you to imagine a world in which this building doesn’t exist. A world in which we don’t gather on Sunday mornings at 9:45. A world in which we don’t have any paid staff—no Jeff, no Lorie, no Katie, no Tina, no pastor, no preschool, nothing. Would we build what we have now? Would we hire the same sadistic madman to design our sanctuary? Would we have pews? An organ? Would we start a preschool to serve our community? What would we do?
Some friends of mine are in that exact situation. Wayne, the leader of my elk hunting party, and Patrick, a pastor, are starting a new church called CrossRoads. Since January, they have been meeting in a classroom in McNutt Hall on Saturday evenings. Right now, as I speak, they are having their first worship service in their new space. After considering all of the alternatives, they ultimately decided to rent the former Vineyard space. They surely won’t have pews. I don’t know what they will do for music; while they met at McNutt, they would use YouTube. The space they are renting has a sound system but no organ. What will be their style of worship? Patrick was educated as a Baptist, so I suspect their worship would be recognizable to anyone out of that tradition, but I can almost 100% guarantee they won’t use incense. Liturgy? Choir? Probably not.
But CrossRoads is still meeting on Sunday mornings in a dedicated sanctuary, because of tradition. Let me describe another possible vision of worship. Imagine a group of perhaps a dozen individuals. They meet on, say, Tuesday night in the back room of Hoppers. They place their food and drink orders, maybe including beer and wine, maybe not. While they’re waiting for their food, the one person leads them in a prayer of confession, and then they talk about some things going on in their lives or in the world, and someone leads them in a prayer of thanksgiving and supplication. Oh, the food is here. A quick prayer of blessing, and then while they eat, someone reads a Bible passage. That person also gives a little bit of context to the passage and how they interpret it, given both that context and what’s going on in their lives and in the community. A conversation follows, with people contributing how they understand it. Some of them have read the passage ahead of time, others haven’t; some of them have studied the Bible a lot, others are brand new. Some are used to just being told what to think and struggle to embrace uncertainty, where others openly challenge orthodoxy and traditional ways of interpreting the passage. As the meal wraps up, and the server clears the dishes, someone pulls out a portable communion set, blesses and breaks bread, and passes the bread and cup around for communion by intinction. Now they have all been fed both physically and spiritually, so it’s time to go. A brief unison prayer—the same one every week, one that reflects their shared beliefs and mission in the world—and they depart. Some stroll down to Soda & Scoops, others hurry home to deal with young kids. Maybe a few who don’t have to get up early the next day stay and hang out at the bar.
Is that worship? Is it any more or less worshipful than what we are doing now? Is God any more or less present in that gathering than they are with us? Would it have more or less impact on the lives of those who gather? Would it be more or less accessible for people who do not currently attend a church?
I believe that such a service would be worship that is acceptable to the God that I love. I believe that it would reach different people than we see worshipping today. More people? I don’t know. More meaningful? I don’t know. But we need to be open to the leading of the Spirit to explore these kinds of worship experiences. We need to let go of everything we think is necessary but is ancillary to our true priorities: loving God and loving our neighbor. James Clear once wrote, If you’re unwilling to adapt to the future, you’ll justify the past. What we do each Sunday, and where we do it, is our past. Let’s open our hearts and minds to a future where we open the doors of God’s kingdom to everyone who needs to know the God we love. Amen.
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