A Sermon for the Last Sunday after the Epiphany

Exodus 34:29-35
Psalm 99
1 Corinthians 12:27--13:13
Luke 9:28-36

There once was a little boy who decided he wanted to go find God. He knew it would probably be a long trip to find God, so he decided to pack a lunch, four packs of Twinkies and two cans of root beer. He set out on his journey and went a few blocks until he came to a park. In this park on a bench, sat an old woman looking at the pigeons.

The little boy sat down beside her and he watched the pigeons too. After a while he grew hungry and so he pulled out some Twinkies. As he ate, he noticed the woman watching him, so he offered her a Twinkie. She gratefully accepted it and smiled at him. There was something about her smile that fascinated the boy. He thought it was the most beautiful smile he had ever seen, and he wanted to see it again. So he brought out the cans of root beer, opened one and offered her the other one. Once again she smiled that beautiful smile.

For a long time the two sat on that park bench, eating Twinkies, drinking root beer, smiling at each other, and watching the pigeons. But neither said a word. Finally, the little boy realized that it was getting and late and that it was time to go home. He started to leave, took a few steps, then turned back and gave the woman a big hug. Her smile was brighter than ever before.

When he arrived back home, his mother noticed that he was happy, yet somehow strangely quiet. "What did you do today?" she asked, trying to figure out what was going on. "Oh, I had lunch in the park with God," he said. Before his mother could reply he added, "You know she has the most beautiful smile I have ever seen."

Meanwhile the woman had left the park and returned to her home. Her son noticed something different about her. "What did you do today, Mom?" he asked. "Oh, I ate Twinkies and drank root beer in the park with God," she said. And before her son could say anything, she added. "You know he is a lot younger than I had imagined."

Peter, James , & John, like the young boy and the old woman in our story, found God in a surprising place. Jesus had just told them t hat he was going to Jerusalem to die. This ought to have been a time of darkness in their lives. Then there's this unexpected flash of power and glory: Jesus standing with Moses and Elijah, the embodiment of the law and the prophets. Jesus standing with the two guys who did not do that suffering and dying stuff that Jesus had just announced. Who wants to go down the mountain and to Jerusalem and death now?

Here is beauty, here is God's word and God's power. Here, thank God, is God and life for us. Lord! it's good to be here. So let's stay: Build tents to hang on to God. Celebrate the wonderful experience of God . . . . Chuches are built for this.

We get a taste of God's glory here on earth. We build beautiful,amazing, light-filled buildings for God. We commit ourselves to maintianing the beauty and we worship God inside four beautiful walls that shut out the darkness of our lives. We focus our energies in this place of beauty. And we don't let God or ourselves loose in the world.

We try to put God in a box. Like Peter, we long to trap God -- to keep Jesus here wearing brilliantly clean clothes, to enjoy the awesome beauty of the mountaintop, and to rest in the shining light -- instead of letting God go down into the dark, messy, dirty valley, where we know Jesus will be crucified.

How easily we become so enraptured with what's going on here and now inside our own lives that we don't hear the call to step outside ourselves, to take the astonishing gifts we have down into the valley or out into the darkness. These are the times that the church can hide our experience of God -- can put a veil over that transfiguring and transforming light so that we wonder if God has left us. And, indeed,while we're still wonderstruck and trying to figure out what to do, maybe Jesus has already gone off down the mountain and is calling us to follow.

And we are left in our safe little God box, hiding from God.

Our church and our busy Christian lives can become places to hide ourselves from God. Places where we are so busy doing "the work of the church" that we forget those words that came out of the cloud on the mountaintop: "This is my Son, my Chosen, listen to him!"

Listen ... is he calling you to follow him? To leave the glory of the mountain for the love of the world? To leave the safe secure, even ‘holy,' places in your life? To walk out these doors into the darkness of the world? Christ's light shines on the faces of all who have seen him. Is he asking us to drop the veil of the church that we've been hiding behind and let that light shine?

Perhaps it's time to behave like the little boy in the story: Not hanging on to the good stuff God has given us, or pretending we have too little to offer, but letting go and sharing. It's time to risk leaving home to look for God.

Got twinkies and root beer?
Got bread and wine?
Got good stories or even a glimmer of Christ's light?

Follow Jesus into the darkness of the world. It's there you just might meet God and another may find God in you.

It has been said that "Every budget is a theological statement." It shows our priorities. We tend to put our money where our hearts are. We even call financial resources "securities" and "trust" funds. We need security. No one wants to face life empty handed.

I went this week to see "Titanic." The story begins with such power and, yes, trust in one great human creation. And there's plenty of enviable elegance and wealth. And there's poverty there too, in a time when the lines were quite distinct. The film has something of a middle class perspective -- it romanticizes both the wealthy and the poor. It could be a blessed-are-the-poor-and-woe-to-the-rich story: The rich young woman is miserable. The nearly penniless young man really has the good things in life.

But let's not be romantic about it: Outside of the movies poverty sucks. Hunger does too. It doesn't feel like any kind of blessing; it doesn't feel like happiness which is what the Greek word in the gospel means; or even like the way to happiness or "being on the right track" as some would translate the Aramaic word that Jesus probably used.

Mae West is right when she said it simply: "Rich is better." Real poverty and real hunger, like real mourning and tears, which many of us HAVE experienced, are just plain miserable.

We don't want to be among the ‘have nots' -- the miserable, needy, empty ones so when that kind of loss or hurt comes into our lives, we try to hide the brokenness. The ‘haves' are good at this. The wealthy and powerful coverup the brokenness -- we weren't shown FDR's wheelchair or Betty Ford's addiction. The needy cannot so easily hide or deny their brokenness. Only when the pretense of the rich and powerful is shattered can real healing begin. Twelve-step programs have taught us the healing and strength that comes from facing our brokenness, powerlessness, and emptiness.

Did you notice the context of today's gospel reading? Sure, people came to hear Jesus, but more than that they came to be healed -- to touch him because power flowed out of him that healed them all. Jesus allows the healing power to flow through him and immediately "looks UP at his disciples and tells them "blessed are you poor ..." --the empty-handed have-nots get the kingdom. Jesus heals then says the lowly, empty ones get the kingdom. Might it be because they are the ones who, like Jesus himself, have room inside for the power of the kingdom to enter them? Maybe they are the empty-handed ones who would not cling to the power but would let it flow through them to heal the world?

Empty hands.
What a powerful symbol. If you saw the movie Titanic, did you watch the hands? The life saving empty hand stretched out to another at the beginning. Loving hands, passionate hands. The clinging frightened hands that led to death. The hands that let go to find life. And the final opening of the hands and letting go. Whose hands were full? Which hands held the blessing?

What about your hands? Think again about what cards you are you holding. Do you trust them with your life?

Remember that in this game the losers win. God doesn't play by our rules. The Gospel is not about us, but about God. It's God's game. Maybe "blessed" means making God happy; and God's desire is to be welcomed in the lives and hearts of ALL God's people. This "sermon on the level plain" is about reshuffling the cards to level the playing field so everyone has a chance to lose . . . and to win.

One day our material securities will be out of our reach.
One day each of us is going to meet God with empty hands.

Those of us who are poor will have practiced hands, open and ready to receive God's blessing. But woe to those of us who are rich, for we may need to do some painful exercises to relax the frightened clinging. Those who are empty and broken are already open to be filled with God's gifts. But woe to those of us who have our acts together, for we may have locked out God's grace.

Woe, indeed! for the Almighty God desires to enter even our well-ordered lives. God will shatter our bulwarks of financial security. God will break open proud and satisfied hearts. . . . And God will fill the brokenness with blessing.

Blessed are we when we see that we all stand broken and empty handed before the Holy One, for only then can we be filled with God.