Tag Archives: Good News

A Deacon’s First Sermon

On Saturday, I was ordained a deacon at the Church of The Good Shepherd in Raleigh.  It was good to be in my home diocese.  On Sunday, I “deaconed” and preached at Christ Church in Charlotte, with all the sweet smells, visions, faces, and sounds of my home parish.  While I had preached at Christ Church before, this was my first time preaching in “big church” with some extra pieces of clothing befitting a deacon.  So it was a touch foreign and abundantly homey at the same time.  I remain filled with gratitude.
Proper 7, Christ Episcopal Church, Charlotte, North Carolina
Genesis 21:8-21, Matthew 10:24-39

In the name of the One, Holy and Everliving God, Amen.

Even the hairs of your head are all counted…
I have not come to bring peace, but a sword…
You are of more value than many sparrows…
I have come to set a man against his father, and a daughter against her mother…

Goodness, today’s Gospel message is full of paradox. One moment we are told how special and cared for we are. The next we are told of certain struggle and pain. Three times we are told not to fear, and then we are given some scary predictions of what to expect as followers of Jesus.

This is not an easy passage to preach.

And our first reading from Genesis isn’t any easier. Abraham sends his slave and mistress Hagar along with his firstborn Ishmael into the wilderness with nothing but some bread and water. And he does so with God’s blessing!

What are we to make of God’s word to us today? What is the good news?

I have a friend. He could be your friend too. He’s a member of this parish and he’s a doctor and most of his patients happen to be children. This friend often has to give children shots. And when he does, parents will attempt to prepare a child saying, “Now don’t worry honey—this isn’t going to hurt.” At which point my friend must turn to the child and say, “Actually, this is going to hurt. But only for a moment. And you are going to be OK.”

Now which of these statements is most likely to engender trust in the child?

Truth can be hard to hear sometimes, but truth doesn’t let us down. Truth grounds us. Truth gives us the sure foundation we need so that we can weather whatever lies ahead.

This Gospel passage is a shorter snippet of a longer conversation Jesus is having with his disciples about what to expect as followers. Some scholars call it the “missionary discourse” because Jesus is preparing his friends for a mission. He has summoned the twelve apostles, he has commissioned them to go out into the world preaching and healing, and he has warned them of persecution. Then comes this bit of comfort… and of swords. And then Jesus finishes the conversation by telling them that those who welcome the disciples–these missionaries–welcomes Jesus himself and the God and Father of all.

Are you a follower of Jesus? Then you, too, are a missionary. Listen to these hopeful and hard truths—they are yours.

“It is enough for the disciple to be like the teacher.” In other words, remember Jesus? Always stirring up trouble with statements like, “love your enemy” and “it is better to give than to receive?”[1] The Jesus who came to “proclaim good news to the poor” and “freedom for the prisoners?”[2] Well, Jesus followers, if the disciple is like the teacher, we ought to expect more than a few raised eyebrows about our lives and actions.

And listen when Jesus says, “What I say to you in the dark, tell in the light; and what you hear whispered, proclaim from the housetops.” As Jesus followers, we’re not just called to know that God is Love and rest in that truth. We have to be and do that truth. We can’t just sing at Christmas “Go tell it on the mountain,” rather we must live lives and make decisions that truly tell-it-on-the-mountain every day.

Think back to the Sermon on the Mount when Jesus tells us, “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.” Do you recall the very next sentence? “Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.”[3]

When peace is not the way of this world, peacemaking is not peaceful work.

And so Jesus, like the doctor about to give a child a shot, tells it to us straight: “I have not come to bring peace, but a sword.”

Again and again in the Gospels we see Jesus portrayed as one who contradicts the social norms and introduces chaos. Indeed, Jesus can be divisive. So the life of a disciple, a Jesus follower, a missionary–of you and me–could and perhaps should demonstrate the same. When the Gospel proclaims a counter cultural message, and we are the voices that proclaim it, we are going to come up against traditional power structures and even against one another. We see evidence of this division in our homes and in our churches as we all seek truth and then live out the difficulties of the truth we seek.

And as a result of being truth seekers, truth proclaimers and truth doers, we may feel deserted. Like Hagar and Ishmael, we can count on wilderness moments of thirst for living water and hunger for the bread of life. And like Hagar and Ishmael we can count on God showing up, hearing our cries, staying with us—even in the wilderness.

Today’s Bible passages tell it like it is. They tell us, “This is going to hurt, and you are going to be OK.” Truth like this may be hard to swallow, but it’ll stick to your ribs.

It’ll stick to your ribs when you take a big risk to make what could be just a small change in a broken world. And you’ll remember: do not fear…even the hairs of your head are all counted.

It’ll stick to your ribs when you speak up for a cause or a person who has been beat down. And you’ll remember: have no fear…nothing is secret that will not become known.

It’ll stick to your ribs when you keep quiet at a time you’d really like to speak up – so that someone else can be heard. And you’ll remember: do not be afraid; you are of more value than many sparrows.

The truths that give us comfort and hope mean what they do and ground our faith because we’ve heard the hard truths too. Jesus’ statement, “I have not come to bring peace, but a sword,” is uncomfortable to hear. It makes us squirm a little. We might want to gloss over these words to focus instead on words like, “I have come that they would have life and have it to the fullest.”[4] But Jesus’ promise of the Kingdom of God and life eternal and “life to the fullest” are promises we believe because Jesus tells the truth about all things—persecution and peace, division and reconciliation, oppression and salvation.

Jesus tells the disciples, “do not be afraid,” because Jesus knows how scary proclaiming the Gospel can be. Jesus anticipates us making unpopular decisions and speaking uncomfortable truths. AND Jesus tells the disciples, “do not be afraid,” because Jesus knows that God will show up and stay with us and sustain us until the fullness of the kingdom is known and the peace of God reigns supreme.

And so I’ll end with a prayer by William Sloan Coffin, taught to me by my dear mentor John Porter-Acee:

May God give you grace never to sell yourself short,
Grace to risk something big for something good,
Grace to remember that the world is too dangerous for anything but truth
And too small for anything but love.



[1] Matthew 5:44 and Acts 20:35

[2] Luke 4:18

[3] Matthew 5:9-10

[4] John 10:10

Tagged , , , , , , , , , ,

Just Do It

This sermon was preached at the Preaching Excellence Conference in Richmond, VA

Using the lectionary for the third Sunday of Epiphany, Year B

Jonah 3:1-5, 10; Psalm 62:5-12; 1 Corinthians 7:29-31; Mark 1:14-20

I love that today’s readings in Jonah and Mark were paired together because I love the sense of immediacy and urgency they both conjure up.

First we have Jonah—a story every Sunday school child can recount.  God tells Jonah to go to Nineveh, Jonah runs the other way, Jonah is swallowed up by a fish, Jonah is spit out onto the shore, and here we have God telling Jonah a second time—the only prophet who needs telling twice—go to Nineveh and tell the people to change their ways.  And perhaps more remarkably than Jonah’s 3-day residence in a fish’s belly, the Ninevites repent!  Really!  Jonah says, “Watch out, Nineveh will be overturned!” And boom—the people believe, fast and repent—just like that.  They change their ways, God changes the divine mind, and no one is destroyed.

Then we have Mark’s Gospel.  Mark doesn’t start his gospel with the story of Jesus’ birth, but with the story of Jesus’ ministry.  And here in the first chapter we have Jesus’ first words: “The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe in the good news.”  Then, walking along the Sea of Galilee, Jesus says to fishermen Simon and Andrew, “Follow me and I will make you fish for people.”  And boom—Simon and Andrew drop their nets right where they are and immediately follow Jesus—just like that.

A fisherman in Ganvie, Benin.  Taken when I lived in West Africa.

A fisherman in Ganvie, Benin. Taken when I lived in West Africa.

To read these two stories side-by-side is almost comical because the immediate belief and response of the Ninevites and fishermen is so contrary to our own skeptical world.

I mean, really, if a total stranger were to walk up to one of us on the street and hand us a $100 bill for no particular reason, chances are we wouldn’t respond, “Gee, thanks!” but “What’s the catch?”

I have been racking my brain for several days, trying to think of a situation in which I would drop everything and respond with the immediacy of the Ninevites and fisherman.  But most of the situations I can think of are either from childhood, when faith is a way of life before skepticism creeps in, or from times when I felt absolutely trapped and desperate for a way out.

Perhaps the Ninevites felt trapped and desperate when Jonah proclaimed, “Forty days more, and Nineveh shall be overthrown!”  Perhaps they believed, fasted and put on sackcloth because the alternative was too grim.  Perhaps.  But why would a people so evil and set in their ways heed the call of a prophet like Jonah?

The fishermen are a different story.  They weren’t trapped.  They weren’t desperate.  Fishing was a good trade in Jesus’ day.  And yet they weren’t children either, filled with wonder and quick to believe.  They were adults working in the family business.  So why would they leave their nets, their job and their family to follow Jesus?

What could be compelling enough to make them follow?  What would be compelling enough to make you or me follow?

I think the answer for the disciples and for us must be: the good news—that the kingdom of God has come near.  And not the kingdom of God as in a place, or a thing—but as in the reign of God in our lives.

But what does that mean?  How do we describe this good news?  This kingdom of God?  Preachers are meant to proclaim the good news—so what is it?

When I think of the good news of God’s reign, I have to turn to Isaiah:

he has sent me to bring good news to

the oppressed,

to bind up the brokenhearted,

to proclaim liberty to the captives,

and release to the prisoners…

to comfort all who mourn…

to give them a garland instead

of ashes,

the oil of gladness instead of


the mantle of praise instead of a

faint spirit.

They will be called oaks of


They shall build up their ancient ruins…[1]

If this sounds familiar, perhaps it’s because the first part of this passage is precisely what Jesus in Luke’s gospel chooses to read in the synagogue on the day he proclaims his public ministry, saying, “Today this scripture is fulfilled in your hearing.”

“He has sent me to bring good news to the oppressed,” we read in Isaiah.  “The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe in the good news,” says Jesus in Mark’s gospel.

This is what’s compelling.  Broken hearts are mended.  Captives are set free.  Prisoners are released.  And those who mourn are comforted, anointed with the oil of gladness and decorated with garlands.  That which has been ruined is rebuilt and repaired—the oppressed are lifted up.

If you’ve ever felt broken or trapped or stepped on or grief stricken, this is indeed good news.  This good news is for you.

But here’s the catch: the good news for you is also your good news to proclaim.  The fishermen didn’t just hear Jesus and say, “Why yes, that is good news!” and then keep on fishing.  They dropped their nets and followed.

We cry out to Jesus saying, “Me!  Me!  Mend my broken heart!”  And thank God we do.  But once this kingdom of God draws you in and you experience the love that God is, watch out—it is not a love that lets us sit on our hands and watch the world pass by.  This love we receive, this liberation we experience, it is a call to action.

If you believe in this good news, you best be looking for broken hearts to bind up.  If you believe in this good news, you better start recognizing who the captives are and start working to set them free.  If you believe in this good news, get ready to rebuild what has been torn down.

The good news is messy and it is edgy and it is worth dropping our proverbial nets so we can follow the one who gives it to us.

“Believe in the good news…follow me.”

I know we’re a skeptical people.  I know we have our doubts.  But if the Ninevites and the fishermen can believe and be transformed by their belief, maybe we can too.  This good news is just as much ours as it was theirs—ours to live and ours to give.

God, help us make it so.  Amen.

[1] Isaiah 61:1-4

Tagged , , , ,