Ladies and Gentlemen and Children of All Ages

This sermon was heard at the Broadmoor Presbyterian Church in Shreveport, Louisiana on Sunday July 7, 2013, the 14th Sunday in Ordinary Time.

2Kings 5:1-14

Psalm 30

Galatians 6:7-16

Luke 10:1-11, 16-20

May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable to you, O Lord, our rock and our redeemer.  Amen.

During last week’s sermon,[i]  the Reverend Freeman told a story about his grandfather the Reverend Freeman. Jim’s grandfather was a talented man. Among his many skills was the ability to ride his bicycle’s handlebars facing the back wheel, his feet pedaling backward to move the bike forward… while juggling. That must have been a sight. In the story, a member of the congregation loaned Grandpa Pastor Freeman a plot of land so that he could plant a garden. On the day he began to till the plot, everyone came out to watch him work the land.

Already having the title of today’s sermon in mind, my first thought was, “Ladies and gentlemen and children of all ages! Step right up! Step right up and see the Plowing Pastor! Can he plow a straight line while facing backward on the Tilling-Two-Wheeler-of-Death? Watch and see as he attempts to juggle the seed into the farrows!” and that’s when the high school band drum line kicks in to increase the tension until the cymbal crash and trumpet voluntary at the end of the stunt.

So that was just me, huh?[ii]

“Ladies and gentlemen and children of all ages…” Whenever we hear these words we know that something exciting is going to follow. This is the cry of the Ringmaster, the Master of Ceremonies under the big top who lures our attention to the center ring, drawing our attention to what’s important. In fact, the only reason the Ringmaster is important is to draw our attention to the main attraction.

This is what Paul is getting at in his letter to the Galatians. He’s trying to make sure that nobody gets suckered into the bad P. T. Barnum sideshow the Scribes and Pharisees are trying to get the church to buy. Our reading from the New Revised Standard Version is a very good translation of what Paul says; but the New Living Translation has fewer $5.00 words and better English sentence structure. This makes Paul’s intended message more transparent. Verses 12 and 13 read:

Those who are trying to force you to be circumcised want to look good to others. They don’t want to be persecuted for teaching that the cross of Christ alone can save. And even those who advocate circumcision don't keep the whole law themselves. They only want you to be circumcised so they can boast about it and claim you as their disciples.

Paul is telling us these church leaders make lousy ringmasters. They aren’t drawing the Galatians to what’s important. Their evangelism is for their own benefit, not for the church. They are trying to sell a bill of goods they don’t keep because they can’t. They aren’t pointing to what’s in the center ring. They are trying to draw attention to themselves so their peers will think they’re big shots. Their goal is to bring people to themselves, not to Christ.

Paul even says that whether they are circumcised or not doesn’t matter to Jesus. It’s not the flesh that matters. Paul says what counts is whether or not they have been made a new creation. It’s not what we look like as much as what we become and what we do as a new creation that makes a difference to the Lord. It’s people who live as a new creation that truly come to know the peace and mercy of God.

Let me make this clear—I don’t think this can be said often enough—our salvation does not hinge on what we do. We are saved by grace through faith. What matters to God is that we are transformed and how we are transformed by our salvation. If our transformation is only skin deep, it won’t matter much to us, the world, or to God for that matter. If we aren’t transformed by our salvation, it’s like being a dried out piece of clay in the potter’s hand. The potter’s hand is the one place where clay can be made into something useful, but dried out it’s nothing more than a lump. As Paul says, we reap what we sow.

A tale of transformation is found in our gospel reading. Many of us know this reading well, the “Sending of the 70.” [iii] What we know is Jesus sends these believers out to all of the cities and places he intends to visit. These men who were sent are sent with a mission. They are sent with instructions, and some new rules.[iv] First and foremost, Jesus says pray. They are told to pray first then act.

Jesus sends them with two pieces of advice. He tells them it’s dangerous out there and travel light. As Jesus sends them he says, “Go on your way. See, I am sending you out like lambs into the midst of wolves.” Or in the words of Cat Stevens, “Hope you make a lot of nice friends out there/But just remember there’s a lot of bad and beware.”[v] Under those circumstances, this is good advice; when in danger, it is best not to be burdened by stuff.

These instructions also mean they will have to depend on the Lord for their provisions, and not their packing skills or wiles.

 

They are told when they enter a home to say “Peace to this house!” If the peace is shared, the peace will remain. They are told to stay and accept their hospitality. This way they rely on the Lord for their safety, their lodging, and their sustenance. They aren’t supposed to scope out town looking for a better offer. They are to rely on the Lord to show them where they are supposed to be so that they may do remarkable things.

 

If the peace is not shared, it will return to them. Then while leaving, they are to knock the dust from their feet in protest.

Then too, some of Jesus’ instructions will make them uncomfortable along the way because they aren’t all kosher. One is to greet no one along the way.

 For travelers in this time, greeting involves ceremony. When I lived in southeast Colorado it was traditional when driving down the street to wave to everyone. I was told if you didn’t wave to a neighbor when you passed them on the road then they wouldn’t talk to you again until after church on Sunday. Because your neighbor snubbed you at church, everyone would know you had snubbed your neighbor during the week. If you have a Facebook or Twitter account you know what that means for this century. In a time when greeting someone on the road could lead to an hours long ritual, Jesus tells his disciples to forego ritual and go.

The following command is given twice. When they enter a new town and its people welcome them, they are to eat what is set before them. This command can be difficult for a Jew who keeps a kosher table. Casting aside familiar dietary restrictions in favor of crawfish étouffée would be very difficult for them.

 

Jesus’ ministry was focused on the Jews, but he would be traveling through gentile cities too. Since his recon teams would be going there first, they had to be ready for what was ahead of them. So he gives new rules my earthly father would approve, eat what’s put in front of you and clean your plate.

Jesus’ final piece of advice, his last new rule is to deliver the one message of the coming of the Kingdom of God. He tells them to deliver this message whether facing acceptance or adversity. When they are welcomed into a new community they are to say, “The kingdom of God has come near to you.”  When they are not welcomed they are to say, “The kingdom of God has come near.”

For those who know the peace of God, this will be a blessing, “The kingdom of God has come near to us.” For those who reject God’s peace, this is more a warning than a blessing.  It sounds like a holy version of “Wait ‘til your father gets home.”

When the circus comes to town there is a group that comes a day or two before the show to prepare for the arrival of the main caravan. They do the last minute publicity. They scout out laundromats, grocery stores, gas stations and other places that are important for a traveling show. Jesus sends the seventy to do the advance work and give a taste of what the kingdom of God is like.

Then after the seventy return to home base, they report their wonderful success and Jesus affirms them saying (again from the New Living Translation) “I saw Satan fall from heaven like lightning!” Then Jesus gives them the advice Paul gives the Galatians; don’t brag about what you’ve done. Don’t rejoice “that the spirits submit to you, but rejoice that your names are written in heaven.”

In this day and time we are called to be the next seventy, sent where our Lord sends us. In prayer we are to seek the way. We are to travel light and beware. We are to rely on God alone and eat what we are given. We are to offer God’s blessing… in one way or another. By the power of the Holy Spirit we are to point to God and God in Christ, not to ourselves. And in Christ, by Christ, and through Christ we are transformed, just like the original seventy 2,000 years ago.

We are to cry out, “Ladies and Gentlemen and Children of all ages! Step this way! Everyone’s welcome!” Then by the grace and peace of our Lord Jesus Christ we may all come into God’s glorious presence where we may survey the wondrous cross together. This is what we have been sent to do.

---

[i] Freeman, The Reverend James, “Of Chariots and Plows.” Heard at the Broadmoor Presbyterian Church, June 30, 2013, the Thirteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time.

[ii] I was prepared to say “Okay, so that wasn’t just me, nice” if the people had responded.

[iii] Or “the 72” depending upon your translation, but I preached that several years ago.

[iv] Culpepper, R. Alan. “The New Interpreter’s Bible.” “Luke” section.  Leander E. Keck, Senior New Testament Editor.  Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1995, page 222.

[v] Stevens, Cat, “Wild World.”  Off of “Tea for the Tillerman.” 1970.

Mañana

Before we get started, this is my last Sunday at the First Presbyterian Church in Berryville, Arkansas so "Time Loves a Hero" will be taking a short hiatus. Starting in about a month, I will be serving the First Presbyterian Church in Marshall, Texas. As soon as I get to Marshall, "Time Loves a Hero" will return with new postings.

This is a bittersweet day for me. May God bless us all.

So with no further ado, this sermon was heard at the First Presbyterian Church in Berryville, Arkansas on Sunday August 29, 2010, the 22nd Sunday in Ordinary Time.

Jeremiah 2:4-13
Psalm 81:1, 10-16
Hebrews 13:1-8, 15-16
Luke 14:1, 7-14

May the words of my mouth and the mediations of our hearts be acceptable to you, O Lord, our rock and our redeemer. Amen.

The Society of Friends, Quakers, have a way of helping members seek discernment on how to proceed with keenly felt concerns and dilemmas, the clearness committee. The committee, which is chosen by the caller, is a group of close, wise, and honest friends who come together and spend time waiting in silence and asking questions. They do not give advice or criticize. They do not tell their own stories or judge the caller. The group asks honest, probing, caring, challenging, open, unloaded questions. The questions are not asked for the curiosity of the questioner, but for the sake of the one seeking clarity.

In “Let Your Life Speak,” Parker Palmer tells this story about asking for help discerning a vocational prospect with a clearness committee. He had just received an opportunity to become president of a small educational institution. As Palmer tells the story, he notes that he did not really convene the group for clarity; what he had done is call his friends together to brag about being offered a great job.

“For a while, the questions were easy, at least for a dreamer like me: What is your vision for this institution? What is its mission in the larger society? How would you change the curriculum? How would you handle decision making? What about dealing with conflict?

Halfway into the process, someone asked a question that sounded easier yet turned out to be very hard: ‘What would you like most about being president?’

The simplicity of that question loosed me from my head and lowered me into my heart.”

Palmer then goes on in fits and starts trying to answer the question. But he doesn’t answer the question. He tells them what he would not like about being president of the institution. He is gently guided back to the question by the committee several times. Returning to Palmer’s text…

“Once again the questioner called me back to the original question. But this time I felt compelled to give the only honest answer I possessed an answer that came from the very bottom of my barrel, an answer that appalled even me as I spoke it.

“‘Well,’ said I, in the smallest voice I possess, ‘I guess what I would like most is getting my picture in the paper with the word president under it.’

“Finally [after a long, contemplative silence] my questioner broke the silence with a question that cracked all of us up—and cracked me open: ‘Parker,’ he said, ‘can you think of an easier way to get your picture in the paper?’”[1]

Being humbled, well, that’s a focus of our gospel reading today isn’t it? Palmer was laid bare by his clearness committee. They asked the right questions, and finally he came to the right answer, not a flattering one, but the right one all the same.

Parker tried to use the clearness committee to exalt himself; sharing with his friends the great job he had been offered. Instead he was humbled, in his own words he was cracked open by the questions the committee asked.

There is a very important thing about the language being used in our gospel reading today that I want to share; something our it shares with Palmer’s last sentence. These words in this portion of Palmer’s text, cracked open; and these words from verse eleven, exalt, be humbled, humble, and be exalted; are verbs. One more time, these are verbs.

Adjectives like humble and exalted do not carry the same literary weight as the verbal forms, even though they look exactly the same to us in English. Adjectives describe states of being. They describe conditions. The verbs, they perform the actions that cause the conditions. It may not seem like such a big difference, but it comes up in our gospel reading.

Now, the feelings evoked by the adjectives, words that add to the sentence, are important. They are important to help define, help sharpen what is going on in the sentence. They help evoke a passion. They help define the action and the one who is either doing the action or having the action done to them. I don’t want anyone to think that the emotions and the feelings are not important, but the point I’m making is that the emotions and the feelings are caused by the action. In an effective way, the verb always precedes the modifier.

So that’s the reason for the English lesson. In verse eleven, Jesus is not describing how the people who take banquet seats that do not suit them will feel. He describes what will happen to people who take banquet seats that do not suit them.

Jesus gives us some advice. The first is to always select a less honorable seat, that way you will not be humbled by a host that moves you down the table and you may be raised to a better place at the table if the master wishes.

That’s another important element of these particular verbs, to humble and to exalt; they deal with reversal of fortune. By both of these verbs your status will shift, the only question is if you will be lifted up or cast down.

Palmer offers these words on being humbled as a verb which I find useful:

I had read somewhere that humility is central to the spiritual life, which seemed like a good idea to me: I was proud to think of myself as humble! What I did not know is that for some of us the path to humility goes through humiliation—being brought low, unable to function, stripped of pretenses and defenses, feeling fraudulent, empty, useless—that allows us to regrow our lives from the humus of common ground.

The spiritual journey is full of paradoxes, and one of them is that the humiliation that brings us down -- down to ground on which it is safe to stand and to fall -- eventually takes us to a firmer and fuller sense of self. When people ask me how it felt to emerge from depression, I can give only one answer: I felt at home in my own skin and at home on the face of the earth, for the first time.[2]

Our prayer for illumination offered these words: “Teach us to walk the path he prepared for us so that we might take a place at the table with all who seek the joy of his kingdom.” Our reading from Hebrews offers us words about walking in God’s path:

Let mutual love continue. Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by doing that some have entertained angels without knowing it. Remember those who are in prison, as though you were in prison with them; those who are being tortured, as though you yourselves were being tortured. Let marriage be held in honor by all, and let the marriage bed be kept undefiled; for God will judge fornicators and adulterers. Keep your lives free from the love of money, and be content with what you have; for he has said, “I will never leave you or forsake you.” So we can say with confidence:

“The Lord is my helper;
I will not be afraid.
What can anyone do to me?”

Through [Jesus], then, let us continually offer a sacrifice of praise to God, that is, the fruit of lips that confess his name. Do not neglect to do good and to share what you have, for such sacrifices are pleasing to God.

These last two sentences, “let us continually offer a sacrifice of praise” and “do not neglect to do good and share” are particularly timely today.

A little more than five years ago, I came to this part of the body of Christ with a newly minted Masters of Divinity degree and little idea of what I was doing or would do next. Of course, I was not the first minister to feel this way, and that’s what I chose to share in my first sermon.[3] It began like this:

Gregory of Nazianzus was a priest and later a scholar in the early church. Initially he became a priest because of his father just happened to be the Bishop of Nazianzus. So Gregory was called to the ministry as well. Unfortunately for Gregory, he held the office of priest and the vows of ordination in such high esteem that immediately after he was ordained, he left. You see, Gregory felt that there was no way that he could hold to the vows of ordination, there was no way he could hold this office. He saw the priesthood as a sort of tyranny; a tyranny over himself and over his parish. He was so afraid of the ramifications of his ordination that he left the parish for five years. The monastic movement was beginning to gain steam at this time and young Gregory found the solitary lifestyle of the monk to be the best way to deal with his vocation.

To say the least, the people were steamed. I don’t blame them and I am sure that you don’t either. Nobody knows better than you what it’s like to have the Pastor Nominating Committee find someone for the church who then runs for the hills. But after five years, he was able to discern that he was called by God and the community to serve the body of Christ as their priest and he returned home. Imagine his homecoming, there is joy, but there must be some anger as well. It is only human. And Gregory preached, oh yes, he preached. And it was historically noted as one of the worst sermons ever heard in that church. Gregory preached a curt little sermon about why he avoided his responsibilities for five years. The congregation was not particularly sensitive toward his plight. Even if his reasons were valid, they did not fall on sympathetic ears.

I have always loved the story of Gregory the Great. He was a hero of the ancient church. His writings on baptism are still read today in church history and in seminaries. But this part of the story has always tickled me the most. This story always reminds me that one of the saints of the church started his illustrious vocation because it was the family business. Then as soon as he was ready, he was so awed and humbled by his vocation that he received the symbols of his ordination and promptly ran for the hills. Any ordained minister who can’t relate to this story should either reconsider their ordination or at least read the story again.

I ended my first sermon with these words:

Gregory of Nazianzus was right to take the prospect of ordination seriously. As in the times of Gregory, Matthew, and Paul, we are living in times which ministry is wrought with peril. But in light of all of this, we are called to tell the truth, sharing the good news of God; news which brings together the broken people who we are. We are called to be a light to a world which does not want to hear the message of the Gospel. And we now, as was done two thousand years ago, we now are called to take these steps together. We are called to rise every day and take these first steps again and again.

I am honored, and humbled, that you have called me and my family to join you in this journey as we take these, our first steps with you, together as the body of Christ. I promise that I will not leave you after the ordination service Saturday and join a monastery. We will take this journey together, and through the love of God we will proclaim the good news of our baptism into the life and death of Jesus Christ. And as the church we call all people to be reconciled to God and to one another.[4]

So on this, our final Sunday with this part of the body of Christ, let me say that it has been our privilege to be your pastor and pastor’s spouse, you have lifted us up. I am humbled that you selected me to join with you, to join with this part of the body of Christ as Minister of Word and Sacrament. I am honored that we took these steps together “to gather and welcome the broken people of the world and through God’s love make us one.”[5] I am overjoyed that you have graciously invited us into your homes and into your lives. It has been our honor and privilege to serve Christ in this time and place.

I pray that over the past five years we have told the truth, sharing the good news of the Lord Jesus Christ who brings together the broken people we too are. I pray that we have been a light to a world which does not want to hear the message of the Gospel. And as was done two thousand years ago, we have taken these steps together. We are called to rise every day and take these first steps again and again.

A friend once told me that while the traditional translation of the word mañana is “tomorrow,” another way to translate it is “not today.” If we massage it far enough, it could mean “another day.” This is the last time that I will lead worship on the Lord’s Day in this place. This is the last time I will preach from this pulpit. I will never again celebrate the Lord’s Supper from this table or baptize a new member from this font, but, in God’s glorious time, we will worship together again.

So let’s not say “good bye,” instead, let’s just say mañana; and until we meet again, amen.

[1] Palmer, Parker J., Let Your Life Speak, Listening for the Voice of Vocation. San Francisco: Jossey Bass, 2000.
[2] Parker J. Palmer, “All the Way Down,” Weavings, September-October 1998, 40 retrieved from HomileticsOnline.com, http://homileticsonline.com/subscriber/illustration_search.asp?item_topic_id=843, retrieved August 28, 2010.
[3] The italicized portion is from my sermon “First Steps” at the First Presbyterian Church in Berryville, Arkansas.
[4] Book of Confessions, 9.07
[5] This is the Mission Statement of the First Presbyterian Church in Berryville, Arkansas

Exceedingly Ordinary

This sermon was heard at the First Presbyterian Chruch in Berryville, Arkansas on Sunday November 2, 2008, the 31st Sunday in Ordinary Time.

Joshua 3:7-17
Psalm 107:1-7, 33-37
1 Thessalonians 2:1-8
Matthew 22:34-46

May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable to you, O Lord, our rock and redeemer. Amen

The pressure to be exceptional is a cause of many illnesses. When we put too much pressure on ourselves, we cause the stress in our lives to become amplified far beyond what is healthy. We make a swift move from the stress that we need in life to distress which can kill us.

What’s more, our attempts to be exceptional can actually lead to unhappiness. Lyndon Duke,[1] who studies suicide, has found that when people try to be extraordinary, nearly everyone fails. They end up feeling like losers for not being good enough, special enough, rich enough or happy enough. The result of trying to be exceptional is very often a life of unhappiness.

There has to be a better way. And fortunately there is; one that involves humility. Mr. Duke’s own story shows us the way.

Duke was moping around feeling unhappy one day, when all of a sudden he began to hear a neighbor singing while he was mowing his lawn. In a moment of clarity, he realized what was missing from his life: the simple pleasures of an average day. He realized that he needed to stop trying to exalt himself; simply accepting the ordinary life that he and his family had been given.

The very next weekend, he went to visit his son, who was struggling to excel in his first semester at college. Duke spoke very clearly to him, saying, “I expect you to be a straight C student, young man. I want you to complete your unremarkable academic career, meet an ordinary young woman, and, if you choose, get married and live a completely average life!”

His son, of course, thought he had flipped. But Duke was advising him to enjoy the height of humility; to be an average student, and enjoy an ordinary life.

The result of this advice was quite surprising. No longer feeling any pressure to be exceptional, Duke’s son did an average amount of studying for his final exams. His grades were outstanding: straight A’s.

He then called his dad and apologized.

This story points to the paradox of an average-life philosophy: If you focus on living an ordinary life, the cumulative effect of many average days becomes extraordinary. Little steps add up. Serving others produces great results. Those who humble themselves will be exalted, says Jesus. An extraordinary life usually begins with being exceedingly ordinary.

Notice this doesn’t say that we should be doormats for others. Jesus isn’t suggesting that we subject ourselves to abuse. No, he is saying that we should turn away from arrogance, and turn toward humility. Be a student he says; be a disciple of the Messiah, a humble servant. It’s through a life of ordinary service that we accomplish extraordinary things.

True story: Paul Farmer[2] grew up in a trailer park in Florida, went to Duke and Harvard Medical School, and earned an M.D. and a Ph.D. He could’ve decided to practice medicine in an elite and lucrative practice anywhere in the country, but in his mid-30s he was working in Boston for a third of the year, living in a church rectory in a slum, and the rest of the year he was working without pay in Haiti, providing medical care to peasants who had lost their land to a hydroelectric dam. In 1987, he helped to create a nonprofit organization called “Partners in Health,” with both medical and moral missions. By 2003, this group was treating 1,000 patients per day in the Haitian countryside, free of charge, and was also working to cure drug-resistant tuberculosis among prisoners in Siberia and in the slums of Peru.

The height of humility is a life of service that has created a world of good. And people have noticed this quiet work. Although not one to exalt himself, Dr. Farmer has received a “genius grant” from the MacArthur Foundation, and a $1.5 million Conrad N. Hilton Humanitarian Prize.

Of course, not all of us have degrees from Harvard and the resources of a genius grant. Regardless of who we are and how we make our livings, we can choose to live a truly humble life that is anything but average. Wherever we are on the socioeconomic spectrum, the words of Jesus ring true: “All who exalt themselves will be humbled, and all who humble themselves will be exalted.”

This certainly sounds simple enough. Of course, sounds like this are deceptive. The phrase “easier said than done” comes to mind. There is a lot of pressure, some of it comes from family, colleagues, peers, and neighbors; and the rest is the pressure we put on ourselves. It’s a deceptive thing to say that “we’re just trying to be the best people we can be; it’s not like we’re trying to be God.” And that’s the big trap; the one we may not even know has a hold of us.

We testify that Jesus is now and has always been fully human and fully divine. We testify that he is without sin; until he takes our sin upon himself at Calvary that is. Then he feels the all too human pain of rejection crying, “Father, Father, why have you forsaken me?”[3] Even knowing all of this, this is going to sound a little strange: Not only is Jesus more divine than we will ever be, he is also more human than we will ever be.

One more time, not only is Jesus more divine than we will ever be, he is more human than we will ever be.

Because of sin, we can never be fully human. There is eternally a separation between the humanity we experience and the experience of humanity our Lord created for us. This perfect humanity is the life Jesus lived. This isn’t another invitation for us to make ourselves into doormats. No body can be all things to all people; it isn’t in our make up. It isn’t an invitation to beat ourselves up because we aren’t perfect either. After all, we can’t be perfect. This is instead the time to know that we all have limitations, not one of us does not.

Here’s the invitation, we are to be all that we can be in Christ, because in Him we can do all things. It is when we try to be extraordinary in ourselves that we will be humbled. The call Jesus lays upon our lives is to live where ordinary faithfulness leads to extraordinary things.

To live a humble life, it’s important to avoid the three mistakes that the scribes and the Pharisees make.[4] First, they do not practice what they teach. They are hypocrites, saying one thing and doing another. If we are to be humble servants of Christ and have a positive impact on the world, we need to make sure that our deeds are in line with our words. This is true because in this world people are always going to be watching to see if we are people of integrity, showing consistency between our words and our actions.

Second, the scribes and Pharisees lay burdens on the shoulders of others, burdens they are unwilling to bear themselves. These religious leaders apply the ancient purity laws of the Israelites to the people as a whole. Jesus clearly considers this an unfair burden. When people are in need, it is critical for us to go beyond giving advice; we also need to lend a hand.

Finally, they do all their deeds to be seen by others; being more interested in appearances than in having a relationship with God. Seats in the synagogue, fringes on prayer shawls and broad phylacteries, or in my case a robe and stole, can all play a role in good and faithful worship, but they lose their value when they are designed to exalt the person who is doing the praying.

Earlier in Matthew, Jesus condemns those who “love to stand and pray in the synagogues and at the street corners, so that they may be seen by others.” Instead, he recommends to his followers, “Whenever you pray, go into your room and shut the door and pray to your Father who is in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you.”[5] Worship is about connecting with God, not impressing other people.

Avoiding these traps helps us to live a humble life, one in which the exceedingly ordinary becomes truly extraordinary. Practice what you teach. Offer a helping hand. Focus on God. These three tips are deceptively simple but deeply significant. They lie at the heart of a Christian life which makes a positive difference in the world.

In the end, we don’t get anywhere by exalting ourselves. The only real lift comes from exploring our humanity and the heights of humility. Instead of following the example set by the religious teachers, Jesus urges the crowds and disciples to understand that the kingdom is marked by humility. Those who would enter cannot rely on their own righteousness or piety.

Those who follow Jesus must answer to one Father, and not revel in any honor due on earth. Those who follow the Son must recognize only one Master, the Christ. It is not possible to be both self-serving and to practice God’s commandments. Those who follow the Lord must rely on the power of the Holy Spirit, and not on personal authority or status. This kingdom, as Matthew reminds his readers again and again, is one of reversal: “All who exalt themselves will be humbled, and all who humble themselves will be exalted.”[6]

[1] HomileticsOnline.com, http://www.homileticsonline.com/subscriber/btl_display.asp?installment_id=93040416, retrieved October 20, 2008.
[2] Ibid.
[3] Matthew 27:45
[4] HomileticsOnline.com, Ibid.
[5] Matthew 6:5-6.
[6] HomileticsOnline.com, Ibid.