Judgement

Jesus tells a wonderful story about how we will be judged as human beings in Matthew 25, starting at vs. 31. It is the only time he ever really mentions the criteria for judgement -- and he does it in his weird, Jesus-in-your-face way. He talks about separating animals -- sheep and goats. In his time, at the end of the day when the farmers came in from the pastures where the livestock grazed, they had to count the number to see if they returned home with all the ones they had left with in the morning. And when they counted, the separated sheep and goats. I don't know why -- maybe because sheep don't get along with goats. But, sheep are so dumb and stupid and slow, it seems like they could get along with anybody.
Anyway, Jesus the Good Shepherd, has a soft spot for the sheep, I guess, because he beckons them at judgement to come and sit at his right hand. The goats -- well -- they get consigned in another direction, and go off left -- to eternal hell and damnation.
Pretty tough spot for the goats.
But Jesus didn't have anything against goats. Neither did he express love for sheep more than anyone else. What he had a soft spot for is those who recognized him in others -- particularly others who are in need -- the sick, the sad, the prisoner, the hungry, the lame, the thirsty, the marginalized, the alien among us. What the sheep did that the goats missed was, according to the parable, see him in the faces and lives of others who are usually ignored.
This Sunday, Pastor Grant and I will do a dramatic dialogue sermon between one of the sheep (Sammy) and one of the goats (Greta) to get their personal take on the experience of judgement. Advent is traditionally a time of waiting, but not of comfort -- not the warm cuddly kind. It is a time when we have the Holy Spirit confronting us daily in our encounters with others to see if we, too, recognize the Christ in those nobody cares about, has time for, or wants anything to do with.
Come see -- if you are a sheep -- or a goat.
See you in worship this Sunday.
Pastor a.

Hope Floats

I have never understood that phrase much at all. It was the title of an old Sandra Bullock movie which was (I think) about a woman of questionable reputation coming home after some tragedy and trying to get her life together. She fell in love with a local -- played by Harry Connick, Jr. -- and it ended well. In other words, in the midst of tragedy -- there is hope.
Hope is a funny thing. It is what rises up like a clear bubble in the middle of the muck and mud of our messy lives. Hope, at times, needs to be rearranged. In other words, what we hope for is sometimes a bubble that bursts in the face of life's difficulties. But it can rise again, in another form -- usually, more deliberate and more beautiful than we could ever imagine.
This is the first week of Advent and the theme for this week is simply that: Hope. The world HOPES for salvation, and ultimately a savior comes. But we in the world -- those during Jesus' time as well as those of us living now -- have to rearrange our hope. He wasn't who or what was expected, or even hoped for. On the contrary, he was so much more . . . . .
Advent teaches us to wait, hope and expect -- and one other lesson: nobody, ever, gets to take away -- or get in the way -- of our hope.
It ALWAYS floats.
Come, and share this season as we begin to tell the story of the God who loves us in Jesus the Christ one more time.
a.

The Good Shepherd . . .

I think it is kind of hard for us to relate to all that biblical imagery about sheep and shepherds. Last time I looked, there aren't that many sheep in suburban Dallas. Although, for a number of years we lived right north of the Haggard farm in Plano, and every day when I took my kids to Harrington Elementary School, we passed a bunch of sheep and a few llamas and a donkey or two, plus some cows. It was a pleasant bit of the pastoral and rural smack dab in the midst of Plano. Thank you, Haggard family -- even though news reports just last week said the Haggard family is selling off most of that property for development, and the sheep will be gone.
A pity.
But even with our brief glimpses of the little animals, we didn't truly get an understanding of shepherding -- not like in the days of Ezekiel and later Jesus, who referred to himself as "The Good Shepherd."
Back in the old days -- not the '90's, but biblical times -- shepherds worked 24/7, usually alone with a couple of dogs and on a isolated hillside, where the sheep could find food. Shepherds were low down on the list of people who mattered, yet they were as important as anyone in those societies, not only because they provided food, but because they were a constant presence -- and a quiet and faithful one at that, whose only mission in life was to protect what God had given them -- silly, stupid, wandering, flighty sheep, who were always running off looking for the next best thing to eat over the next hill.
Jesus didn't make that title up regarding himself. It comes right out of the 34th chapter of Ezekiel, a prophet who wrote 600 years before his birth, when the people of Israel were about to lose everything -- home, country, temple and their place in the world -- to the conquering King of Babylon. It was a terrible and difficult time of great anxiety for them, and seemed to be without end.
Ezekiel, never one to mince words, called again and again for them to find the center of their being in God, and return to the core of their faith, and thus protect their existence both as a nation and as individuals. They didn't listen. Silly, stupid, flighty people who kept wandering away from God.
And, ultimately, they did lose everything, just as the Prophet had warned.
But in the 34th chapter, Ezekiel speaks words not of condemnation, or "I TOLD you so." Rather, he brings words of hope and restoration for the people. He talks about God as the only shepherd we need, the one who loves us and cares for us, even and especially when we are lost and alone, even and especially when those silly other things around which we construct our lives fail.
Come this Sunday to worship for the last Sunday of the Christian calendar year, the Feast of the Reign of Christ, our Good Shepherd.
Pastor Grant Palma is preaching and he is always a treat. Don't miss it!!!
a.

Why are these dumb old stories important, anyway?????

Like the story of that cool lady Deborah in the Hebrew Bible's Book of Judges . . . It is a story that has been around for over 3,000 and it is like a combination of CSI and The Mentalist and Dexter and The Good Wife all in one, with an added dose of reality tv thrown in just for grins. Here's the gist: AFTER the Israelites had been busted out of slavery in Egypt by God (and Moses), and AFTER they'd wandered around in the Sinai desert for 40 years, and AFTER they'd been led to the Promised Land by God (and Joshua), they still lived a tentative and relatively nomadic existence for 200 years or so. Each Tribe had its own territory and they didn't intermingle too much - - except when they needed each other. There were ongoing skirmishes with the native Canaanite peoples, and every so often, things got ugly. But mostly, every so often, they completely forgot about God, and turned their lives and focus to gods of their own: money, power, intrigue -- you get the picture. When things got really rough, God would raise up a leader, or 'judge' -- one who was empowered by God to lead the people through whatever rough patch they had encountered. You remember some of these Judges: Samson, Gideon and Jepthah. There were others, too, less notable. But perhaps the most notable was a mere woman, Deborah -- known as a prophetess and wise, 'fiery' leader in her own right. The people were oppressed by a Canaanite king and this went on for 20 years. Finally, they'd had enough. It was time to do battle with their oppressors. Barak was a general -- really the leader of a rag-tag bunch of Israelite guerrilla fighters -- and he was charged with taking on the Canaanites, under the leadership of another General, Sisera. The Hebrews were outmanned, out-armoured, out-spent, and out maneuvered. It looked to be a suicide mission. But Barak did not back away. He just asked Deborah to go to the battle with them. And she did. And, they won! Against all odds, the Israelites won. Not only did they win, every member of the opposing army was killed, except the General, Sisera. He escaped to the hills, and found refuge in the tent of what he thought was a neutral woman, Jael, a Kenite (not Hebrew, but a neighboring tribe). Jael offered him refuge, milk to quench his thirst, and a place to rest and hide. While he slept, she took a tent peg and put it to his temple and hammered it through his brain (yuk!). When Barak and his army came looking for Sisera, he found yet another woman, who had delivered the ultimate victory for them -- all of their oppressors were wiped out.

I think this is a very cool story, and not just because the heroes were actually heroines. The women shine in this tale of deliverance, but God shines brighter. What do we learn? That our God is constant through the ages, and hears our cries of despair. That God has a heart for those who are oppressed. That God provides, and is always vigilant.

All of the above.

But mostly we learn, I think, that God uses whoever God chooses, when and where -- for God's own purposes of mercy and deliverance.

People haven't changed much in 3,000 years. We, like the Hebrews, can be constantly distracted away from the True God. Yet God, fortunately, doesn't get distracted from us or our needs or care.

Yup. Cool story. And very, very important . . . still.

See you in worship this Sunday when we celebrate the story of Deborah, the fiery lady Judge, and her willingness to take part in God's work of redemption.

a.