18th Sunday
after Pentecost, Yr. B, September 30, 2012
Numbers 11:4-6, 10-16,
24-29; Psalm 19:7-14; James 5:13-20; Mark 9:38-50
Sermon preached at St.
Stephen’s Episcopal Church
So this Sunday we will
start discussing the book, An Introduction to the Missional Church. I bet
some of you thought that you might get out of it by not reading the book. That may not be the case! You see, in preparation for our
discussion, I have had to reread the book. I’ll be doing that for thenext three weeks as well … just so
you know. The first three chapters
are for today’s discussion. In
these first three chapters Alan Roxburgh and M. Scott Boren try to help us
understand what a missional church is and is not. They go to a lot of effort to distinguish what they describe
as missional church from other
missional identities. We’ll talk a
bit more about that after church.
One of the foundational
things that I’ve carried with me from these first chapters came from the first
page of Chapter 1. At every
stage in the biblical narratives is hope for a future reality toward which the
people are moving. Being missional
means we join this heritage, entering a journey without any road maps to
discover what God is up to in our neighborhoods and communities.[1]
We
have always been a wandering people, beginning with Abram and Sarai and
continuing with the Israelites in the desert for forty years. We have been a people searching. Often taking one step forward and then
two steps back … like our ancestors who escaped the oppression of slavery in
Egypt who once free became dissatisfied with their freedom and the Lord’s
provision of manna from heaven. “If
only we had meat to eat! We remember the fish we used to eat in Egypt for
nothing, the cucumbers, the melons, the leeks, the onions, and the garlic; but
now our strength is dried up, and there is nothing at all but this manna to
look at.” (Numbers 11:5) The desert was not a place where it was
possible to sustain themselves. It
was a place where they were at God’s mercy. The bounty they remembered enjoying in Egypt wasn’t
something they could produce for themselves in a desert. Instead, they received their daily
bread. Quickly they lost the
ability to see that as a gift.
They forgot the arduousness of slavery, the loss of dignity, the
scarcity of their existence. They
knew they were on the way to some “promised land” but they weren’t getting
there very quickly. My guess is
that very few of them actually knew the way. They were wandering.
We are too.
How many of us have had to
cut back on things over the last few years? Cut back on spending and giving. How many people in our country have lost jobs and homes? How many have had to apply for
government assistance even though only a few years ago their lives seemed
financially stable? The demand for
emergency food at SWEM this month is much higher than in the past, and Sunday
suppers rarely have less than 50 guests anymore. Often more like 70.
We are also wandering in a new world. We don’t have a clear idea where we are going, and we depend
on strong leaders with a vision to get us there. I bet there are many who look back with longing to “the way
things were”.
Now the lectionary is a
funny thing. It sometimes leaves
things out. That happened this
week with our first reading. One
of the things that was left out was God’s response to the Israelites craving
for meat. God gave them meat. God sent quail, not for one or two
days, but every day for a whole month.
In Eugene Peterson’s rendition of that passage it says, You’re going
to eat meat until it’s coming out of your nostrils. You’re going to be so sick of meat that you’ll throw up at
the mere mention of it. And here’s why: Because you have rejected God who is
right here among you, whining to his face. (Numbers 11:20) The Israelites in their wandering had
lost sight of God’s creating presence already in their midst. The Israelites were indeed wandering,
but God was right there on the journey with them! God was at work in and around them, and they just weren’t
hearing and seeing it. They had
stopped looking for it!
Being missional means
we join this heritage, entering a journey without any road maps to discover
what God is up to in our neighborhoods and communities.[2] No
matter what is happening in our world, God is still there. God is speaking God’s purpose into
existence, working toward what I believe is a world of enough for all; enough
food, enough shelter, enough security, enough joy, enough opportunity, enough
support, enough love. God has the
capacity through us, to transform the world into the kingdom God dreams for
us. It’s going on now. God’s work is happening, like manna
falling from heaven in the Palestinian desert hundreds and hundreds of years
ago. It’s happening in our
neighborhoods and in our communities as I speak. Do we see it?
Are we looking for it? Do
we salt it with our presence?
Any good work done in the
name of God that goes on in our neighborhood has God’s approval. It doesn’t matter who does it. I bet that even if they aren’t done in
the name of God, Jesus would rejoice.
When Jesus heard that others were casting out demons in his name, he
wasn’t offended. He was
excited! He told the disciples,
any good thing you do in this uncharted journey we’re on together is a blessing
to us all. In fact, Jesus is
adamant in saying, don’t get in the way of good things I’m doing through other
people. Rejoice in them! Celebrate them! Join them!
Our gospel lesson today
tells us that everyone will be salted with fire. Everyone will be salted
with the Spirit, with living fire, with passion for something. Salt is good. Roman
soldiers used to be paid in salt; salt was that valuable. Salt spices things up. Salt brings out the flavor. Salt preserves and purifies. Moses was
salted with fire and led a people to freedom. The Israelites were salted with
fire and endured the wilderness.
Joshua was salted with fire and led the Israelites into the promised
land. Jesus was salted with fire
and proclaimed God’s kingdom on earth, healed the sick and redefined what it
meant to be community. We have
also been salted with fire. Have salt in yourselves, and be at peace
with one another. (Mark 9:50)
Being missional means we join this heritage, entering a
journey without any road maps to discover what God is up to in our
neighborhoods and communities.[3]
Maybe this idea of church
doesn’t sound much different to you, but notice I haven’t said anything about
bringing people into church.
Roxburgh and Boren don’t say much about that either, because that’s not
the point of a missional church. It’s not about asking, “How do we get
more people in the pews”. It’s
about asking, “What is God already doing in our neighborhood, and how can we
join that?” How can our salt
enliven what God is already doing?
How can our presence be a gift to our neighbors? How can we join them, not simply serve
them?
Now don’t get me wrong,
I’d love to see you bring a friend or invite someone to church because that is
how we grow as an institution. But
our mission isn’t to fill the pews.
Our mission as a church is to share the good news of the Kingdom, to
grow as disciples of Jesus, to respond to human need in love, to seek justice
and safeguard and renew the life of the earth. That is to be salt for God’s work … even, and perhaps most
importantly, God’s work that goes on outside our doors. To do that, we have to get outside
these walls. They are not meant to
hem us in.
This church is meant to be
a place to gather for remembering, and then for us to leave. We come to tell the foundational story
that reminds us of our heritage. To participate in the events that are the
ground of our faith … sharing the bread and the wine, sharing in Christ’s Body
and Blood. To be fed at this
table. To learn together, to pray
together, to share joys and bear sorrows together. To remember that God is here and out there. To become a people who long to
discover what God is up to… within
ourselves … and in our
neighborhood.
I hope you will join in
our discussions today and in the next three weeks. I don’t know where it might lead us, but that’s okay. It’s okay not to have the road map. The important thing is to be willing to
take the journey, and if that’s what we decide to commit to … it won’t be over
in four weeks. It will be just
beginning.
Amen.
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