"Hearing and Acting"

Matthew 7:21-28

A Sermon preached by the Rev. Douglas M. Donley

November 13, 2005

University Baptist Church

Minneapolis, MN

 

This sermon is about foundations.  But this sermon is more than an analogy to building homes below sea level or upon landfills.  Some people can’t make choices about this.  If you’re poor and a person of color living in the Delta of the Mississippi, the only land you have is in a sandy flood plane that is bound to flood sometime.  Since that is the case, we can hardly put God’s judgment upon them for building there.  Instead, we need to look at other metaphorical foundations on which to build our lives.  That’s the kind of foundation I am looking for.  That’s the kind of foundation we find in the Gospel. 

It’s the kind of foundation we find in our church—a local manifestation of the movement of God.  It is the kind of foundation that will withstand all of the storms of our lives.  It’s the kind of foundation I know I need.  I bet you need it, too.  This sermon is about how to build our lives.

Jesus begins the closing words of the Sermon on the Mount by saying that there is a difference between saying things and doing things.  We need to remember that our lip service is a good start, but it is nowhere near enough.  We need to do more than simply talk the talk, we need to walk the walk.  This is how we find how firm our foundation might be, if we put actions behind our words.

The Sermon on the Mount means nothing if it does not spur us into subversive action.  We have been looking at the Sermon on the Mount these past few months so that we might remember and reclaim our foundation.

Jesus reminds us that there is a big difference between simply saying “Lord, Lord” and doing the will of God.  This statement reminds us of the prophets like Jeremiah who said, “ cursed are those who preach peace, peace when there is no peace.”  And “You should not say simply “this is the Temple of the Lord” as if this alone will save you.  We remember the words of the prophet Amos who said, "I hate, I despise your feasts and your holy assemblies but let justice roll down like a mighty water and righteousness like an everflowing stream." 

Too many worship services are opportunities to say “Lord, Lord”.  But if it stops there, then it is not truly worship, according to Jesus.  Worship needs to be a time when we garner purpose for our lives and strength for the journey; when we reconnect with our foundation.   

Church ought to be about doing actions which point to God.  Where people see people doing acts of justice and compassion and then are able to see God.  The church’s action ought to spur outsiders to say, "Lord, Lord.  How can I participate in this kind of hopeful movement?"

In the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus calls us to enter by the narrow gate.  He calls us to do the works which are about righteousness.  He calls us not to judge.  He calls us to give to each other.  He calls us to watch out for people who use religion to their own ends and not to meet human needs.  That is the context in which he says, "Not everyone who says "Lord, Lord" will enter into the kingdom, but only those who do God's will." 

We know plenty of people who say "Lord, Lord" and instead of loosening the bonds of oppression they tighten them up. 

We know plenty of people who say “Lord, Lord” and instead of setting the captives free, they imprison more people. 

We know plenty of people who say “Lord, Lord” and instead of preaching good news to the poor, they ignore the poor whom we will have with us always. 

We know plenty of people who say “Lord, Lord save me from the speck of wickedness which is around me” while the log in their eye blinds them to all other sight.

We know plenty of people who say “Lord, Lord” and persecute and judge and condemn those whom they refuse to understand.

And we say, “Lord, Lord, help me not judge too much either, but help me to love my enemies.  Help me to know my persecutors and pray for them and with them.  Lord, Lord, I believe, help my unbelief.”

On Friday night, I appeared on a TV interview show about the proposed constitutional amendment banning gay marriage.  I stuttered a bit as we traded jabs about the issue.  But off-camera afterwards, we took the time to pray for each other in the lobby of the studio.  We prayed that we recognize each other’s humanity and that whatever we said and did in the coming months that it honored God.  I was thankful for that opportunity to put my words in to action.

In our lives as Christians, we take to the streets, both figuratively and literally.  When we do so, we walk a mile in another person's shoes.  We do so to make a way through the desert of this life.  We do so to witness to the redemption which is available to all.  We do this to say, “Lord Lord”.  A number of years ago, I was part of a Good Friday procession in San Francisco.  We Christians did a stations of the cross in the Mission and Castro districts.  We stopped at strategic points in the neighborhoods where acts of violence or glimmers of hope had occurred—a homeless shelter, an AIDS residence, a corner where someone had been shot, a public housing complex, a women’s health clinic and so on.  I noticed one man following us at a safe distance.  He appeared to be a street person and never got close enough to actually physically join the procession.  His hair was long and matted.  His beard was untrimmed.  His clothing was tattered and dirty.  But I couldn’t shake his piercing eyes.  He never said anything, never got close enough, but he was watching.  Could he have been Jesus?  When is Jesus watching us? I have wondered ever since.

We see the face of God when we take to the streets.  We meet great people when we risk being true Christians.  God puts people in our paths that help us to see clearly.

Sisters and brothers, it is important in our faith life, to not simply talk the talk and say “Lord, Lord”, but we must also walk the walk.  We must do the work of reconciliation, the work of inclusion, the work of justice, the work of setting the captives free (even if those people have been the captives of tired old religion or a church experience which has closed them off to God's joyous creation).  We are called to take that step and walk because we can.  Walk because we must.  Walk because it will usher in the great banquet of God.

A number of years ago, I participated in the California AIDS ride.  Me and 2500 of my closest friends rode bikes from San Francisco to Los Angeles, along the way raising over $11 million for AIDS research and services.  And while the physical experience was exhilarating and the money raised inspiring, it was the stories that people brought with them that gave me pause.  On their jerseys people wore pictures of loved ones that had succumbed to the disease. I heard a number of tearful memories.  And I found myself saying "Lord, Lord."    I think we do these rides, these walks or even support them because they are a snub at the face of death.  They are our way of saying death is not the final answer.  All of the despair in this world will not win over us, for we are people of faith.  We have a firm foundation.  We are people of light.  We are people who look to the future and know that with God, although the road may be rocky, all things are possible.  We walk so that we can feel like we have some power.  We need to feel as though we are grinding at the walls of oppression, of disease, of powerlessness.  When we do that we find life!  We find the author of life. 

Most of us are familiar with the movie The Shawshank Redemption.  Andy Dufrane is wrongly convicted of killing his wife and her lover.  A stone carver, he is able to get someone to smuggle him a tiny stone shaping hammer.  We see him writing his name on the crumbling wall of his cell and carving chess pieces with his hammer.  Toward the end of the movie, after Andy had been in prison for over 20 years, he was on the verge of breaking.  He got an inmate to lend him some rope.  He said an enigmatic farewell to his best friend Red.    The next morning when Andy did not come out of his cell at roll call, all of the inmates thought that Andy had committed suicide.  To everyone's surprise, however, Andy was gone.  After a frantic search, they finally tore a poster down off his cell wall revealing a 20-foot tunnel through which Andy escaped from prison.

That pressure of a tiny hammer on that stone wall for years is what finally led to Andy's freedom.  It was his meditation, his private asceticism, his salvation.  If you press on long enough, big change can happen.  The not-so-subtle message is that walls of prison might seem impenetrable, but if we have a keener sense of hope, then we might have the power with persistent resistance to conquer even the most formidable of walls. 

We can only do this hard work if we are fortified with a strength that comes from beyond us.  We an only do this kind of work if we are galvanized by the firm foundation of faith and the blessed assurance of a transformative and subversive community. 

So we form ourselves on that firm foundation through faith, through prayer, through asking the hard questions, through making sure that our words have action behind them and by working out our salvation with fear and trembling.

So we walk, march, roll and protest because we must.  And through it all we learn anew how to live and how to love.  And that is where we find God.

Now there are plenty of reasons which we can conjure up for us not to participate in efforts to raise consciousness and bring about change.  There are plenty of reasons which we have for not being involved in Christian community.  And for every excuse, God convicts us.

When we are locked inside our own prison walls, there is a tendency to simply give up.  But Paul never did that.  The early Christians never did that.  They kept on singing and praying and working to make sure that the prison walls did not destroy their faith. 

Scripture can give you all the excuses you can ever need for not getting involved, for not taking a step in faith:

Abraham and Sarah said, "I'm too old."

Moses said, "I stutter all the time."

Esther said, "I am a foreigner and a part of a harem."

Elijah had the audacity to say, "I'm all alone.  I, only I, am left."

Isaiah claimed he couldn't talk very well.

Jeremiah said "I'm too young."

Elizabeth said she was too old.

Mary said that she couldn't do God's work because she had no husband.

Saul, soon to be Paul said that he was a persecutor of Christians and not only that but a Roman and a son of a Roman.

I cannot come to the banquet don't bother me now I have married a wife I have bought me a cow I have fields and commitments that cost a pretty sum.  Pray hold me excused I cannot come.

But all of them ALL OF THEM were convicted in their protests.  "O ye of little faith," God told them.  "For you it might seem impossible, but with God all things are possible."

That's what happens when we protest against God.  We get convicted for God sees that all things are possible as long as we believe and act.

Jesus took that step in every part of his ministry.  He spent very little of his recorded time passive.  He risked getting involved.  He dared the risk of love.  This Christian church which follows that same Jesus has that same kind of audacity, that same kind of power, that same kind of subversive spirituality which changes lives, moves mountains and maybe even carves away at a prison wall or two.

Most of us do that very well on our own and collectively. But is there some place where we have been negligent?  Is there some place where we have not spoken the healing word where one word would have been enough?

If that is the case, then I invite us to say, Lord, Lord--we're sorry for that place that we have failed to do your will.  Help us, we pray, to move forward with you by our side and see the redemption which can come when we risk on your behalf.

And may we all be reunited in that great banquet feast, having lived and worked beyond our excuses.  That place where all people are valued; where justice is celebrated; where beauty abounds; and where God celebrates because God’s people are part of a transformative and subversive community.  At that time, when we say “Lord, lord” there will be no question of our loyalties.

For the people who talk the talk also walk the walk.  And in that great getting’ up morning, Jesus will say to God on our behalf “Lord, Lord, welcome my friends home.”

Amen.