A Sermon by Pastor Tom Lacey . . .
feel the love
Luke 3:15-17, 21-22, Preached at Congregational
Before performing a baptism, the priest approached the young father and said solemnly, “Baptism is a serious step. Are you prepared for it?” “I think so,” the man replied. “My wife has made appetizers and we have a caterer coming to provide plenty of cookies and cakes for all of our guests.” “I don't mean that,” the priest responded. “I mean, are you prepared spiritually?” “Oh, sure,” came the reply. “I've got a keg of beer and a case of whiskey.”
Jesus' baptism story is so familiar to the church. Luke's
version differs from Mark's and Matthew's in three ways at least. First, he
doesn't mention the place where Jesus is baptized, although the
Do parents love their children well today? I think the jury is still out on that, not that there is ever much chance to make up for lost time. On the one hand, parents are more expressive about their feelings than in decades (centuries?) past. On the other hand, parents often seem quite indulgent toward their children when compared to other generations. On the one hand, parents today understand the need to spend time with their kids. On the other hand, we don't seem to be able to consistently sit down together for a good homemade dinner. It is easier to talk and over talk today than ever before. So many words out there, whereas decades ago words, and especially words that expressed love, were harder to come by. But a plethora, a deluge, of words doesn't always express truth more clearly. Just because daytime TV shows book guests that willingly and often nauseatingly spew their relational and emotional guts for everyone to hear doesn't necessarily make them better off. In many cases it is pure manipulation; in a very few shows, words as gifts permit learning and growth.
Today's scripture passage teaches us the power of words as gifts. It is a divine act to know your words and to offer them at the right time. God neither indulges himself with throw away phrases of easy sentiment nor does the Lord withhold the gift when the time is right and Jesus needs to hear what is God's alone to speak. This power is the most important on earth. To speak of love, to let someone else know the greatest gift of all, is the greatest privilege, right, and responsibility God shares with us. There is power in words well said, rightly timed, helpfully given. So speak such thoughts. Offer yourself in such ways. Connect to others. Bless them and yourself by telling the truth about how you feel.
In a groundbreaking study, researchers who followed 7,000
people in
Science will never be able to contain and measure the way of the Spirit among us. That's because love isn't really explainable; it just is. It is the way it is. Now for many people this is tough to deal with; perhaps not at first when we fall in love. That's great stuff. But after that, when love begins to go underground, sink into the roots, and doesn't come flashing across the heavens of our heart, it may get short shrift, low billing, when compared to other flashier feelings and feedback. Love is the invisible and immeasurable tether; the unheard and too often misunderstood command; the unmentioned source of happiness, satisfaction, and conviction. It's the 800 lb. gorilla in our life and heart that we avoid, deny, and reject. Love is the hot air in our balloon, the rocket for our propulsion, and the light that shows us where to land. It is the kingdom within us, God among us, and the Spirit teaching us. Love is Christ coming, Christ dying, and Christ ascending. Love is eternal life, angels before the throne, God's presence in glory. Love is a moment and a lifetime. Love is working together, laughing together, growing together.
It was just about bedtime when my phone rang, a pastor remembers. There had been an emergency call and I was the pastor on call. The operator informed me that Mary, a member of the church, had asked for immediate pastoral assistance because her child had just died. Jumping into my clothes, I sped off in my car to a hospital several cities away. I was thankful that I had some idea who Mary was. In a church of over 4,000 members you couldn't count on this. But Mary had been involved in the young adult group, so I knew her enough to say "hello." Yet I couldn't ever remember seeing her with a child, so I was shocked to hear that her child had died.
When I got to the hospital, I was directed by the nighttime staff to a dark, quiet corridor. There I found Mary, just outside of her son's room. "Thank you so much for coming," she said. "I really needed to pray with someone." As Mary and I sat in the hall, she told me the heartbreaking story of her son, Jimmy. He had been born with multiple physical and mental handicaps. His life of seven years had been marked with countless surgeries and therapies. Mary had spent much of her life in hospitals and long-term care facilities, comforting and encouraging Jimmy. He wasn't able to be around other people, so that's why I had never seen Mary with him at church.
After we talked for a while, Mary and I went into the room where Jimmy's body lay. All the tubes and wires were still connected to him, and I was shocked by what I saw. He was tiny, much smaller than a normal seven-year-old boy. His little body was badly twisted and deformed. I found it difficult even to look at him without wincing. But not Mary. She looked upon him with eyes of uncompromised love. She touched his face and spoke quietly to him, even though he couldn't hear anymore. She tenderly kissed his cheek many times. Mary told me how much he had meant to her, and how much she would miss him.
As I stood there, I realized that she loved with kind of love that was far, far beyond any love I had ever given to anyone. It was the undeserved, unabashed, unquenchable love of a mother for her child. Whereas I saw Jimmy as someone marred in his appearance, Mary saw him as a beautiful, lovely human being. Jimmy had not earned her love with his handsomeness or his human achievements. Mary loved him simply, freely, graciously, all of Jimmy's life. Had she been able to do so, Mary would have exchanged places with Jimmy that night, dying so that he might live. Mary loved her precious son with all she had. Truly, she loved him to death.
In Mary's love for Jimmy we see a stirring picture of God's love for you and me. God loves us, not because we're beautiful, nor because of what we've accomplished, but because God is love.
I wonder how Jesus felt when he heard the words, "You are my beloved." It must have saved him from years of therapy or reading self-help books on finding his inner child. There is real power in words that lift and inspire, and all four gospels tell us that Jesus was baptized before he began his work.
As a child, Arthur Bowler watched intently as his little brother was caught in the act. He sat in the corner of the living room, a pen in one hand and their father's brand-new hymnbook in the other, and scribbled in it the length and breadth of the first page. As their father walked into the room, his brother cowered slightly; he sensed that he had done something wrong. Now, staring at my father fearfully, he and I both waited for his punishment. My father picked up his prized hymnal, looked at it carefully, and then sat down, without saying a word. Books were precious to him; he was a clergyman and the holder of several degrees, and he loved his children. What he did next was remarkable. Instead of punishing his son, instead of scolding or yelling or reprimanding, he took the pen and wrote in the book himself, alongside the scribbles John had made: "John's work, 1959, age 2."
The years and the books came and went. From time to time we would open that hymnal, look at the scribbles, read my father's expression of love, and feel uplifted. He taught us about what really matters in life: people, not objects; tolerance, not judgment; love, not anger.
Before we can do good, we have to be told we are good. Before we can see good, we have to be shown what's good. You are God’s child, beloved.
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