Andy James

wandering the web since 1997

Presbyterian minister in Atlanta.
Music lover.
Found beer in seminary.

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The Tweets of Jesus

September 27, 2015 By Andy James

a sermon on Mark 9:38-50
preached on September 27, 2015, at the First Presbyterian Church of Whitestone

As some of you know, I’m a bit of an active Twitterer. I’ve been using this social networking site since 2008 or so, first to connect with some friends in church work, later expanding my network to include others who share similar interests in technology and faith concerns, and most recently starting to follow some new people who share my support of the New York Red Bulls!

It takes a bit of a special person to enjoy Twitter. While Facebook can be a great way to share pictures, experiences, insights, and websites with family and friends, Twitter is a bit more intense. You can choose who to follow—whose messages will show up when you go to the site—and generally those people don’t have to approve of you following them. Messages, known as tweets, can be no longer than 140 characters, and if you include a link or a picture, the message must be shorter still. Most messages end up being pretty pithy and occasionally witty—after all, if you only have 140 characters, you have to make each one count! But even though these messages are shorter, they come more frequently. I follow about 450 people, which is a pretty manageable number, but during busy news times, those 450 people can produce ten or twenty tweets per minute!

When I looked at our reading from the gospel of Mark this morning, I felt like I was following Jesus on Twitter. This text offers us a series of short, somewhat pithy messages that can sometimes make more sense on their own than together—and if you count it up, almost all of these are 140 characters or less! But unlike many Twitterers of our time, Jesus clearly knew that context matters. He was not speaking in little random tidbits of 140 characters that were disconnected from anything else he has ever said. Instead, he was responding to questions raised by the disciples, offering insights out of an encounter with a little child whom he had welcomed into their midst because they had become so focused on questions of status and privilege that they missed the real point of what he was up to.

So in these thirteen verses, we see a series of Twitter-ready sayings that give us a pretty thoughtful look at his approach to the world. These sayings can be reasonably divided into three sets. The first was a direct response to his disciple John, who expressed what seemed to be a broader concern among the disciples that there were people using Jesus’ name to cast out demons without subjecting themselves to his authority like they had done. John’s concern sounds a lot like a modern-day copyright or intellectual property claim: “Jesus, people might get the wrong idea about your brand if these folks do the wrong thing in the wrong way in your name.”

The disciples were ready to pounce on these message thieves to get them in line, but Jesus would have nothing of it. First of all, he was glad that they were using his name and carrying his message. The ministry of healing and transformation that they identified in those days as “casting out demons” made a real difference in many lives, and he seemed to welcome the chance for more people to be touched by the power of God in this way. Jesus was not worried about diluting his brand or getting things confused—he was just excited that people were interested in the work he was doing. So “don’t stop him,” Jesus said. “No one can use my name to do something good and powerful, and in the next breath cut me down. If he’s not an enemy, he’s an ally.” It mattered more to Jesus that good things were happening than that he got full and proper credit for them.

The second set of Jesus’ tweet-like sayings shifts gears a bit. As his disciples tried to limit access to him and his message, Jesus offered some pretty outrageous responses. Those who put stumbling blocks in the way of people who wanted to follow Jesus ought to tie those blocks to themselves and go for a swim in the sea. Those who let a hand or foot help them stumble or an eye to guide them in going astray would be better off to cut it off than to face the other consequences! This was a strong continuation of his previous sayings. Jesus wanted no part of anything his followers would do that would get in the way of welcoming others to hear and share his message. No boundary should be erected to keep people out of the sort of life that he could bring them. No one ought to stand in the way of building up the community of faith. None of our actions should keep others from finding the pathway to faithfulness. As one commentator put it well,

We need to ponder the risks for us if our failures of love, our distortions of the way of Christ, our too narrow understandings of the truth, our quickness to pronounce judgment cause others to stumble as they are trying to find the way of faithful living. (Harry B. Adams, “Pastoral Perspective on Mark 9:39-50,” Feasting on the Word, Year B, Volume 4, p. 120.)

Jesus closed his very tweetable words to his disciples with a third section, a strange coda about being “salted with fire” even as he instructed the disciples to “have salt in yourselves, and be at peace with one another.” I for one am not quite sure what it means to be “salted with fire” or to “have salt in yourselves.” One commentator suggests that Jesus was telling the disciples to get ready to be tested, that there was something ahead that would challenge them and they needed to be prepared and protected as salt does, that they need a preservative as powerful as salt to protect them from the fires ahead. Another links this reference to the great value of salt in the ancient world, suggesting that Jesus was telling the disciples that they need to recognize how precious they were to the work that was going on so that they wouldn’t get in the way of it. And two others wonder if Jesus might have been thinking that the disciples just needed to keep up their distinctiveness, to find a way to bring a new and deeper flavor to the world as they shared Jesus’ message in the days beyond his own time.

I suspect that no one of these interpretations is right on its own, for each of them gives us a helpful angle on understanding how we can be more faithful as we bear the presence of Jesus into our world. Whatever he might have meant about salt here, Jesus concluded with yet another great tweetable line: “Be at peace with one another.” He knew that the temptation would be great to be divided from each other and set ourselves at odds with one another, so he made it clear that the real and deep and faithful witness to his healing presence would come through the way that his followers lived together.

All these very tweetable lines from Jesus may still leave us scratching our heads a bit, wondering what exactly he wants us to take with us from these words. Is he suggesting that we need to open up our community to a few more branches of the Jesus franchise? Is he saying that there are certain actions for which there may be, as it is said, “hell to pay”? Is he trying to tell us that we need to prepare ourselves for some sort of suffering? If you take any one of these tweetable moments out of the broader context, these explanations might make sense, but in the bigger picture here, I think Jesus is trying to help his disciples—and by extension us—open up the understanding of community that we apply to those who follow him.

Being a part of this community is not about showing proper deference to authority or being in the right group. It is instead about living in the way that Jesus himself did, about offering a message of healing and new life to everyone who needed it along the way. Membership in this community is not about trying to adhere to a particular strict interpretation of the way forward but rather about opening ourselves to different ways of thinking as we honor our sisters and brothers who journey with us along the way. And the marks of this community are less about who gets cast out or who manages to survive along the way and far more about helping others to experience the love of God in Jesus Christ our Lord. This community finds its meaning and definition in welcoming the stranger, staying with the sick, getting to know those who are different, and supporting those who are poor. As we do all this, we set aside our fears of being cast out or not having enough because we have been welcomed into this amazing relationship of grace, hope, and love in Jesus Christ, and we simply cannot be the same.

So as we continue on this journey of faith in community, may God guide us through the difficult moments when we are tempted to cast others out, may God help us when we think of getting in the way of those who might join us along the way, and may God support us as we seek to be at peace with one another until all things are made new in Jesus Christ our Lord. Lord, come quickly! Amen.

Filed Under: posts, sermons Tagged With: Mark 9.38-50, Twitter, welcome

A Two-Way Welcome

June 29, 2014 By Andy James

a sermon on Matthew 10:40-42
preached on June 29, 2014, at the First Presbyterian Church of Whitestone

There is truly something wonderful in that short song that we just sang—and not just because I managed to get you all singing in parts a little! Like so many songs from around the world that are coming into our knowledge nowadays, this song comes bearing a story. Even though you can now find it our hymnal, it was collected only a few years ago in South Africa by the Scottish pastor and songwriter John Bell. It comes out of a hospice program for those suffering from HIV/AIDS in South Africa, a program that steps into the gap for those who have been abandoned by friends and family as they deal with this dreadful and incurable disease, a program that responds to such a disease in a place where the lasting effects of poverty and apartheid are still prominent. These people have every reason to question the depth and breadth of God’s loving welcome, and yet still they sing joyfully and hopefully, trusting God’s amazing love to carry them through the difficulties of their disease and welcome them into new life.

This kind of wildly inclusive welcome despite every reason to think and act otherwise stands at the core of what Jesus was describing in our reading from Matthew’s gospel this morning. Jesus had been preparing his disciples for their first mission work in his name, and he was about to send them out on their own to share his teachings, heal the sick, and proclaim the coming of the kingdom of God. He had told them where to go (the people of Israel, not the Samaritans or Gentiles), what to say (“The kingdom of heaven has come near”), what attitude to offer in the face of opposition (have no fear of it), what to leave behind (family and friends and commitments at home), and what to take with them (nothing other than a cross as they followed him).

But then he offered these words from our reading today to close his instructions, telling his disciples not about how they needed to treat others along their way but about the blessing would emerge through them for those who met them along the way. Jesus insisted that his disciples were extensions of him, that any welcome offered to them was welcome offered to him, that God’s reward for the prophets and the righteous extended to those who welcomed prophets and the righteous like them, that care and concern offered to anyone, even a glass of water shared with those who might be looked down upon by society, was ultimately offered to Jesus himself. Without their even knowing it, those who chose to receive the disciples would offer the presence of God to them—and in so doing receive that presence for themselves.

This two-way welcome—the welcome that God offers to us that we proclaimed in our song a few minutes ago and the welcome that we offer to others and so offer back to God—is a critical part of what it means to be church in these days. In a day and age when an increasing number of people have never experienced church for themselves, when God’s welcome so often does not reach people who do not seek it out, when the words of the Bible are still so often used to offer hope to the insider at the exclusion of the outsider, when Sundays are more likely to be spent sipping a latte and reading the newspaper than sitting in a sanctuary, this two-way welcome is more important than ever to show the world what God’s welcome looks like—and to open our eyes to how the world is showing that welcome to us, too.

This two-way welcome is most easily seen in the hospitality we offer to others in our life as the church. Over my nearly nine years here serving as your pastor, we have talked several times about how we do this—how we greet everyone, members and visitors alike, as we arrive for worship; how we work to honor the image of God in everyone who crosses our path; how we offer time and space for those who make their way here to discover God’s welcome within and beyond these walls. But we do this in other ways, too—in our openness in our life to new ideas and different patterns of life together in the church community, in our willingness to embrace the fullness of the lives of those who journey with us, even in our standing with and speaking out for others who cannot do so on their own.

But the two-way welcome that Jesus offers us here is not just about offering God’s welcome to others—it is also about being open to receive that same welcome from others, too. It’s easy for us to think that we need to be good at offering a welcome to others, but Jesus’ message to the disciples here ultimately challenges them to accept the welcome given to them and to trust that it is not just extended to them but to God too. This two-way welcome reminds us that when we offer hospitality at its best, we find ourselves both giving and receiving, for we find that just when we think we are most prepared to host, we are actually becoming the guest. When we think that we have offered enough of a welcome to others, they turn around and show us the same gift. And when we are confident that God’s welcome has reached its limit, God will remind us again in those we have welcomed before, “Whoever welcomes you welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes the one who sent me.”

This afternoon, several dozen Presbyterians will gather on Fifth Avenue in Manhattan, in front of First Presbyterian Church, to offer a ministry of welcome to the marchers in the annual New York City Pride Parade. As women and men stream down Fifth Avenue to celebrate the unique culture and community of lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender persons, these faithful Presbyterians and friends will offer cookies, hugs, and even a cup of cold water to marchers of any and every sort. They’ve been doing this for four or five years now, seeking to extend God’s welcome to each and every person. They’re taking these words of Jesus quite literally,  not because of any earthly or heavenly reward, not even expecting to convince some of the marchers to show up at church next Sunday, but because it is the kind of welcome that Jesus himself would offer. As I’ve listened to the stories of friends and colleagues who have shared in this ministry over the years, I’ve heard that this has been a two-way welcome, that they have received as much welcome as they have shared, that their offering of even this simple cup of cold water has broken down barriers, that the transformation that is possible through God’s amazing grace shines here in new and glorious ways, not just to the people who receive this gift of water but even more to the people who step out and share it.

Now while it may not be as easy for us to stand out in front of our church and offer a cup of water to in this way, while we may not be in a place to directly hear the stories of people whose songs can embody an incredible sense of welcome and grace and hope, God still challenges us to offer and receive this kind of welcome in our lives of faith. We can find times and places and ways to share that cup of cold water with those who are thirsty. We can look for other opportunities to speak up for those who cannot speak for themselves. And we can offer the fullness of God’s welcome to strangers and friends, trusting that in so doing we may receive far more than we have offered.

So may God show us all the more how to give and receive this two-way welcome, this gracious and merciful and wondrous gift that embodies God’s love in our world, so that all people might know the fullness of God’s love each and every day. Thanks be to God! Amen.

Filed Under: posts, sermons Tagged With: hospitality, Matt 10.40-42, welcome

The Structure of Spiritual Revolutions

April 28, 2013 By Andy James

a sermon on Acts 11:1-18 and Galatians 6:14-16
preached on April 28, 2013, at the First Presbyterian Church of Whitestone

Back in college, my second semester freshman seminar required us to read and discuss a very interesting book: The Structure of Scientific Revolutions by Thomas Kuhn. While it isn’t quite as familiar as The Great Gatsby or To Kill a Mockingbird, it is nonetheless a classic book in the history of science that describes the process surrounding paradigm shifts. A paradigm shift, also known as a scientific revolution, is a moment when a new way of thinking takes hold because the available evidence no longer lines up with the assumptions and theories that have previously explained everything. In the scientific world, these shifts start out slowly, with a few intrepid researchers recognizing that what they are seeing doesn’t fit within the assumptions and calculations that have always guided their thinking. Then, over time, more and more people see that these new observations require a different way of thinking about the world, and ultimately, a new theory takes hold to explain what has been seen and experienced.

In the scientific world, one of the best-known paradigm shifts came back in the Renaissance, when astronomers changed their understanding of the relationship between heavenly bodies and the sun. Before that time, the guiding assumption—the paradigm—about the planets and the sun was that everything revolved around the earth, as originally explained by the Greek astronomer Ptolemy. Although many things were—and still are—explained quite well by the calculations in this system, over time new measurements and observations just didn’t match up with what was expected under the Ptolemaic system. Finally, in the early sixteenth century, as the exceptions became far more complicated than the rules, Copernicus proposed a new theory that fit much better with the observations of that era, placing the sun, not the earth, at the center of the solar system, and his theory still stands as the centerpiece of our own emerging observations about our solar system and the universe.

By now, you’re surely wondering what Ptolemy and Copernicus and paradigms have to do with Peter’s vision that we heard from the book of Acts this morning. Ultimately, you see, Peter’s vision was the first dramatic paradigm shift in the life of the early church, the first spiritual revolution for Christianity. The story of this vision seems to have been so important to the early church that it is told twice, first in chapter 10 of Acts by a narrator, and now in chapter 11 in Peter’s own words. Almost all of the followers of Jesus up until this point were Jews, and so the early church seemed to be just another sect of Judaism who recognized the particular man Jesus as the Messiah. But ultimately what gave Christianity its staying power is that the church began to welcome non-Jews into the community of faith.

This was not universally accepted—our telling of the story today actually comes from Peter’s defense of his actions when he was called before the council of elders in Jerusalem. He had previously supported the party line that required non-Jews to become Jews and be circumcised if they wanted to join the church. Then one day he was praying and saw a vision of unclean things—animals prohibited from the Jewish diet—coming down from heaven on a sheet. As the sheet came closer, Peter heard a voice speaking to him: “Get up, Peter; kill and eat.” He refused, insisting that to do this would make him unclean. Then it happened again, with the voice this time proclaiming, “What God has made clean, you must not call profane.” After this happened a third time, Peter knew that something was up and that the Spirit was speaking to him, and then three men arrived at the house with instructions from the Spirit to take Peter to a Gentile household in another town. Along the journey, he felt the Spirit instructing him “not to make a distinction between them and us.” Once he arrived at the house, heard their story, and started speaking to them, the Holy Spirit fell upon them as well, and so he decided that he could do nothing but welcome them and acknowledge what God was doing in them and through them.

When word of this started to spread in the early church, Peter was criticized for eating with Gentiles and making himself unclean, but he insisted that this was the movement of the Spirit. As he put it to the council in Jerusalem, “If then God gave them the same gift that he gave us when we believed in the Lord Jesus Christ, who was I that I could hinder God?” The council could find no further objection and were silenced by Peter’s story, and they too praised God for the wonder of salvation that had spread to the Gentiles.

Peter’s encounter here, then, was the first paradigm shift in the life of the early church. They moved from being an exclusively Jewish sect to establishing a welcome for all people. After this, the church began intensive engagement with people who were different from the first disciples, without regard to nationality, ethnicity, or past religious history. The church recognized that God might work and speak in new and different ways, and so it was called to do the same. And the church was forced to acknowledge the differences that stood at the core of its community even as it still found a way to stick together. The Gentile question was not settled once and for all—our brief reading from Galatians this morning reminds us of another moment when the apostle Paul was confronted by a group who wanted to require that all Gentiles be circumcised before joining the church—but the ultimate pathway to the new paradigm was clear after Peter’s meeting in Jerusalem: all people would be welcome in the church.

The church has experienced, even endured, many paradigm shifts in the two millennia since Peter’s vision of clean and unclean foods. Our understanding of God shifted as the doctrine of the Trinity took hold after the Council of Nicaea. The Protestant Reformation brought a renewed focus on scripture and deepened the doctrine and practice of salvation by grace through faith. More recently, our particular branch of Reformed Christianity has come to welcome women to ordained ministry, and the Presbyterian Church (USA) just two years ago removed nationwide restrictions on the full participation of gay and lesbian persons in the life of the church. These are paradigm shifts— maybe not quite as radical as what Thomas Kuhn described when he said, “What were ducks in the scientist’s world before… are rabbits afterward” (The Structure of Scientific Revolutions, p. 111), but they certainly are radical changes for us that emerge out of the depth and breadth of our experience of God and our world in these days.

And so as our world changes in these days, the church is called to continue to reexamine the assumptions—the paradigms, if you will—that we have held about our life together. As participation in the various institutions of our world declines, the church must reconsider its own organization so as to ensure that mission and not institutional survival stands at our forefront. As more people identify a spiritual longing and yet have no traditional religious affiliation, the church must rethink how it responds to the spiritual needs of our world. And as we struggle to maintain the financial and human resources to survive in traditional ways, we might just have to imagine a different, more fluid, more flexible way of being church together so as to be good stewards of our limited resources and offer an effective proclamation of the gospel to and for our changing world.

The question in these days is not whether we will embrace this shift but how and when—and will it be too late to make a difference? How do we let go of the constraints on our thinking that limit our vision of our changing world? How do we imagine that God might be calling us to a very new and very different thing? How do we welcome the new frontiers of this age as new things emerge and challenge the assumptions that have shaped us into the people and church that we are? These are not easy questions, just as the changes around us are not easy to accept. But it was not easy for Peter to understand his vision of the Spirit on that rooftop and it was not easy for the council in Jerusalem to welcome his story—and yet I don’t think any of us can imagine the church being anything like it is today without these paradigm shifts from its early life.

So as our world changes and our church changes, may God open our hearts and minds to the Spirit moving in our midst to change how we see our world, may God open our ears to the stories that reshape us and remake us, and may God strengthen us to be all the more faithful amidst our changing world as we show our love for one another and all our world through Jesus Christ our Lord. Thanks be to God. Amen.

Filed Under: posts, sermons Tagged With: Acts 11.1-18, Galatians 6.14-16, paradigm shift, spiritual revolution, welcome