justice

What Does the Lord Require?


What Does the Lord Require?
Dreaming God’s Dreams
Sunday, October 23, 2022
Micah 6:1-8, Amos 5:14-24

He has told you, O mortal, what is good, and what does the Lord require of you but to do justice and to love kindness and to walk humbly with your God?

Micah 6:8 (NRSV)

Listen to this week’s sermon here:

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We talk a lot about social justice these days, and indeed, we cannot truly call ourselves followers of Christ without working toward justice for all people.  The problem is that we tend to define justice in political terms rather than biblical terms.  What the "left" often calls "paying our fair share" so that everyone can have what they need, those on the "right" tend to say is stealing from their hard earned gains.  Just like the classic story of Robin Hood, justice becomes a matter of perspective.  Are Robin Hood and the poor people he is helping suffering from a systemic injustice fueled by the greed of the wealthy or are the rich being treated unjustly because Robin Hood is stealing what rightfully belongs to them?

So long as we talk about justice in such either-or terms, we may never agree on what kinds of policies will truly bring about "justice for all."

But what if justice is not our starting point, but the product or fruit of our life of faith?  Micah, Amos, Hosea, and countless other prophets, not to mention Jesus himself, emphasize that justice and righteousness are absolutely necessary in bringing about the Kingdom of God.  Micah specifically declares that God requires justice, faithful love, and humility, but what if these are not three separate characteristics of our lives?

What if instead, these characteristics actually represent the process of sanctification, or growing in grace, and perhaps even the process of our very salvation.

People can promote policies for social justice without embracing faithful love or demonstrating humility.  But the reverse cannot be true.  We cannot walk humbly with God without growing in faithful love and we cannot grow in love without that love manifesting itself through justice and righteousness.

Remember the classic children's book, Charlotte's Web?

Charlotte, the spider, is working to help save the life of a pig named Wilbur.  Fern, the farmer's daughter, thinks that slaughtering Wilbur just because he was the runt of the litter would be a horrendous act of injustice.

Charlotte proceeds to write descriptive words about Wilbur in her web to make the world take notice of just how special this pig is.  The last of those words was "humble."  Here is Charlotte's definition of humility.

Humble. Humble has two meanings: it means "not proud" and and it also means "near the ground." That's Wilbur all over.

Most of us don't view ourselves as proud, at least not in a negative or arrogant sense, but perhaps we should pay closer attention to the second meaning, "near to the ground."

For Wilbur, this was quite literal.  He is a pig, after all.

But what if God is calling us to live our lives "near to the ground" as well?  What if walking "humbly with our God" might require walking with the lowest of the low, or the "least of these" as Jesus says in Matthew 25?  What if it means taking notice of the little ordinary ways God is at work in our everyday lives and in the lives of others, even if we or they don't recognize it yet?  What if it means seeing everybody, even the "runts" of society, as people created in the image of a God who loves them as much as God loves us?

When we begin to live this way, our perspective shifts.  The Holy Spirit moves us with love and compassion for those who live on the margins of society.  It may not solve the problem of our political policies and social justice programs, but this perspective will motivate us to do justice for those individuals, families or groups God puts directly in our path.

We may not be able to end all poverty, but we might, for example, be able to help one person finish their education or find a job so that they can begin breaking the cycle of poverty in their family.

Walking humbly, or "near to the ground," is the first step.  It is only from this perspective that we can move past our stereotypes and notice people for who they are.

If humility is the seed, love is the tree and justice is the fruit we bear.


Let us  pray...

 

All those people goin' somewhere
Why have I never cared?

Give me Your eyes for just one second
Give me Your eyes so I can see
Everything that I keep missing
Give me Your love for humanity
Give me Your arms for the broken-hearted
The ones that are far beyond my reach
Give me Your heart for the ones forgotten
Give me Your eyes so I can see 

(Brandon Heath, Give Me Your Eyes)

 

 


Rethinking Judgment


Rethinking Judgment
A God Who Weeps - Part 3
Sunday, September 18, 2022
Jeremiah 18:1-11

So I went down to the potter’s house; he was working on the potter’s wheel. But the piece he was making was flawed while still in his hands, so the potter started on another, as seemed best to him. Then the Lord’s word came to me: House of Israel, can’t I deal with you like this potter, declares the Lord? Like clay in the potter’s hand, so are you in mine, house of Israel!

Jeremiah 18:3-6 (CEB)

Listen to this week’s sermon here:

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Mold me, make me, fill me, use me.
Spirit of the Living God, fall fresh on me.

We sing these words.  We pray these words.  But do we really mean these words?  Of course we want God to bless us.  Of course we want God to heal us and our loved ones.  Of course we want God to take care of us.  But do we really want God to mold us, to make us, to fill us and to use us?

To understand exactly what this means, God sends Jeremiah to the potter’s house… a place in the Hinnom valley outside the city walls, a valley that would later be called Gehenna which would become a metaphor for a place of eternal punishment.  It was a valley filled with he fire and smoke of industrial work including pottery, but it was also a place known for the devouring fires of child sacrifice (called Topheth in 2 Kings 23 and Jeremiah 7 and 19).  We can imagine Jeremiah walking down the steep hill beyond the city gate into this valley of black smoke and fire, stepping carefully through piles of clay, heaps of broken potsherds and filthy hard working people like we might imagine in the industrial era sweatshops of the early 20th century.

There in the midst of industrial fires and piles of broken potsherds, among some of the lowest classes of people in Jerusalem, Jeremiah sees a man shaping and then casting aside a flawed piece of clay  In this man covered in mud and clay, he sees the hands, the face and the heart of God. 

Are we willing, like a piece of clay, to trust the potter’s judgment, even if it means being cast aside or entirely absorbed into something new because we are not useful in our current flawed state?  The potter does not destroy flawed pieces of clay out of anger, but he or she will do whatever it takes to make the clay useful and to be certain that no flawed piece will ruin the whole of the pottery.  What if God’s judgment is like this?  What if God’s declaration of coming disaster for Israel is less about destruction, vengeance or punishment and more about redemption and restoration? 

Yes, judgment is painful, whether individually or at a national or even global level.  It is painful in the same way a sentient piece of marble would feel pain under the blade of a chisel or as C.S. Lewis says, a sentient painting would feel after being rubbed and scraped away and restarted for the tenth time in the process of creating a masterpiece.   Lewis observes that in such a case, we may prefer to be just a thumbnail sketch that does not require much work.  But this is not for God to love us more by leaving us to our own comfort… rather it is asking God to love us less, to let us settle for far less that who God created us to be.  And so we must ask ourselves again… do we really want God to mold us, to make us, to fill us, and to use us?  If so, let us pray...

A Covenant Prayer in the Wesleyan Tradition

I am no longer my own, but thine.
Put me to what thou wilt, rank me with whom thou wilt.
Put me to doing, put me to suffering.
Let me be employed by thee or laid aside for thee,
exalted for thee or brought low for thee.
Let me be full, let me be empty.
Let me have all things, let me have nothing.
I freely and heartily yield all things
to thy pleasure and disposal.
And now, O glorious and blessed God,
Father, Son, and Holy Spirit,
thou art mine, and I am thine. So be it.
And the covenant which I have made on earth,
let it be ratified in heaven. Amen.

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For a deeper reflection on what it might look like to be molded and shaped by God, check out the video below from the Skit Guys.

 


We Are STILL NOT OK!

We Are STILL NOT OK!

It’s been awhile…

At the beginning of 2020, I wrote a blog series entitled “We Are Not OK”, addressing the cloud of darkness and hatred that seemed to loom over our nation as we transitioned into this new decade. After Lent, I took a break because life was turned upside down by the Pandemic, in which I had to figure out how to shift my entire ministry online while simultaneously attempting in vain to help my kindergartner do school from home and continue my own doctoral work online. At the same time, we are in a season of transition as I am moving to a new church as of July 1. With all of that, regular blogging simply fell off the top of my priority list.

So why am I breaking this season of silence now? Because, friends, we are STILL NOT OK! We never were. Honestly, I’m tired of pretending we were. I am doing what I can to listen to my brothers and sisters of color and educate myself more deeply on the systemic / structural racism that is so deeply embedded throughout our nation’s history. I know this is only a small start, but I want to offer my personal confession of a particular instance of privilege that hit me hard this week…