Luke 6:27-38
7th Sunday in Ordinary Time
So what did I tell you? Last week, when we read the first part of this section of the Gospel of Luke, do you remember what I said? When we were hearing Jesus teach and he was flipping the world’s priorities upside down, do you remember? When he called things “blessed” that we think of as cursed and called things “cursed” that we think of as blessed, what did I tell you? I said, “If you think this is a difficult lesson to receive, wait until you get a load of next week’s lesson.” Was I right? If this lesson were a main dish, it would be liver. If that truth upsets you, just know that I am in the majority opinion on this one. If you brought liver to the potluck today, you may like it, but you’re probably bringing most of it back home.
Last week I also mentioned that, when Jesus preaches this “sermon” (if you will), he’s looking at us. Luke is careful to point out that when Jesus teaches these difficult (or perhaps impossible) things, he’s looking at his followers. We are the ones “that listen,” that he talks about at the beginning.
This lesson is a doozy! What Jesus says to us today makes us want to look for a loophole, right? Maybe there’s a translation problem between the Greek to the English so it doesn’t mean what it says it means. Maybe if we read farther on, Jesus will say, “Just kidding!” (I’ve read it; he doesn’t.)
So before we get into it, there are a few things to keep in mind: first of all, I think he means it. We who call ourselves the Body of Christ are formed by him to be like him. We are called to a higher standard, even when he calls us to endure unjust behavior. But I would also point out that there is a difference between allowing ourselves to be victimized and breaking cycles of retribution and mutual hurt. Taking the higher ground to bear witness to the grace we’ve received is not the same as becoming a doormat. But also, as I mentioned last week, keep in mind that is not a listing of rules. This seemingly impossible standard reflects the reality of the Kingdom of God; this is what the ethics of Jesus looks like and he’s the one we’re called to follow. We are not going to do that perfectly; but that doesn’t mean we aren’t supposed to try.
I imagine that most of us, if not all of us, take Jesus seriously. We believe that his words and actions bring forgiveness for all our missteps, sins and failures. We believe that there is no other way but Jesus to receive that forgiveness. We believe that, when he says “who so ever,” he means who so ever believes in him will have eternal life. We take comfort in that knowledge; we have hope in that, when he brings this whole mess to its final conclusion, we will rest with him forever. That is our one true comfort, of course we take him seriously.
Then Jesus comes at us with these words Luke today. Where did the nice Jesus go? Tell me that lost sheep story again; I liked that one. Jesus can’t seriously be telling us that we have to do these things, is he?
This is probably a good place to point out that our Scripture lesson is a sermon Jesus preached, not me. I don’t like it any more than you. When I hear this sermon, it makes me wonder: why did so many people show up to hear him talk? This is not a mega-church kind of sermon; not a “5 Ways to Lead A Happier Life” kind of sermon. Just listen to what Jesus seems to tell us to do: love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you, give to everyone who asks. He can’t be serious, right? Well, yes; I think he is.
Last Sunday I mentioned that this sermon, sometimes referred to as the “Sermon on the Plain,” looks a lot like the “Sermon on the Mount” over in Matthew. They are similar, but they are not the same. In Luke, as I mentioned, Jesus is talking directly to his followers; whereas in Matthew, it’s more aimed at the crowd at large. In Matthew, the sermon Jesus preaches is about living God’s way, it’s about righteousness. Cheeks are turned, coats are given away, beggars are given money. Enemies are loved and prayed for. And certainly, in the sermon we hear from today, Jesus affirms these behaviors, but there’s something else there too: rather than simply living-out the righteousness of God, Jesus looks at us and calls us to embody God’s mercy as well. This teaching is not just about living perfectly, it’s about being “children of the Most High.” It’s about being “merciful, just as your Father is merciful.” But we still might wonder: why would God want us to be merciful, specifically to those who are not kind to us?
I once got in trouble with my wife because her brother said something funny. Only, she didn’t think it was funny and I kept laughing because I didn’t notice. I didn’t notice because she otherwise has an ability to laugh at herself and find humor in most things, so I wasn’t expecting her to get her feelings hurt; but as brothers sometimes can do, this hit a nerve; I laughed and I got in trouble. It did make me wonder, though: why am I in trouble? I wasn’t the one making fun of her, why is she mad at me? Well, she was mad at me because I didn’t come to her defense. She expected, when she felt under attack, that I would be the one to take her side; and when I didn’t, it made the hurt worse.
Shouldn’t God be on our side? Rather than calling us to love our enemies, shouldn’t God be defending us from them?
When I read this sermon about loving and showing mercy to those who do us wrong, I’m reminded of the time (also in the Gospel of Luke) when someone asked Jesus, “Who is my neighbor?” If you’ll recall, Jesus answered it in the form of a parable. A parable in which the so-called enemy, the Samaritan, was the one who was a good neighbor; he was the one who showed mercy.
The teachings of Jesus today seem to draw us to ask the opposite question of Jesus: who is my enemy? (And in fact, as I was talking about this passage with someone yesterday, they asked that exact question.) That’s a good question. Who is my enemy? Are people who disagree with my politics my enemy? Are people with different or questionable lifestyles my enemy? Are people of different religions my enemy? Different churches? Is al-Qaeda my enemy? Are racists my enemy? Is the neighbor who won’t return my leaf-blower my enemy? That kid who bullies my kid; whoever it is who keeps letting their dog go to the bathroom on my lawn; that impatient driver that cuts my off. Who is my enemy?
The answer that Jesus seems to give to us today is, our enemy is anyone that God does not love. Our enemy is anyone to whom God is unwilling to show mercy. When you put it like that, it kind of shortens the list quite a bit, doesn’t it? For the children of God, for those who know the mercy we have received, there are no enemies; only other children of God.
The standard we hear Jesus set for us today seems so impossibly high, because indeed, it is. It is God’s standard of mercy and love, patience and sacrifice, and it should not surprise us; it should not surprise us because it is the same mercy, love, patience and sacrifice that we ourselves have received. Jesus is merely calling us to share that grace as freely as it has been given to us.
Friends, today Jesus calls us to a higher path; the path of God’s own love. We will definitely need more of God’s grace as we seek to walk it, but Jesus was not kidding. As ones who could have, once, been considered “enemies of God,” let us seek to share that same love with who so ever God puts in our lives.
Luke 6:17-26
6th Sunday in Ordinary Time
People outside of the Church have a perception of Christianity that we have a lot of rules. I think we have that perception because, we kind-of do. We pride ourselves that, since Jesus, we don’t have as many, but that doesn’t always stop us from wanting them. And we certainly have our favorites: the Ten Commandments a favorite when it comes to rules. I say that because we tend to try to post those wherever we can get away with it. But there are others. We like the Golden Rule: do unto others as you would have them do unto you. Then there is my personal favorite, where Jesus summed up the Law: Love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, mind, and strength; and love your neighbor as yourself. That’s a good one.
We often look to the Bible to find rules that will help tell us how we are supposed to live. Some of us, though, do take it a little to far; we scour its pages to find rules we may not have noticed before; we’re good, but maybe we could do it better. We’re obeying God’s rules, but maybe there are rules we missed. “Hey, did you see this one about covering your head in church? Ooh, here’s one about not wearing clothing woven from more than one kind of cloth.” And maybe there’s something here in our reading today that teaches us something new and special about how Jesus wants us to live. Maybe this is a list of rules about learning to be poor, hungry, sad, and unpopular.
I certainly hope not. And since laying down rules doesn’t otherwise seem to be what Jesus came into this world to do, I doubt it. In fact, I’m starting to think that listing out rules might not even be what the Bible is for. Don’t get me wrong, the Bible’s got some great rules in it, but it’s also got something better. Rather than just telling us what to do, the Bible shows us what God’s up to. And knowing what God is up to might just require more of us than just following rules.
You probably already know this, but in the Gospel of Matthew, there is a much-longer “sermon” that sounds very much like what we read today in Luke. By the way, we’ll be hearing the next part of this sermon next week; and if you find this part hard to take, buckle up—next week is worse.
But that aside, although there are some similarities between the two gospel accounts, they are decidedly not the same sermons. First of all, there’s the location: the one in Matthew is described as the “Sermon on the Mount,” but Luke is careful to point out that this sermon happens on a “level place.” But that’s not nearly the most important difference: the biggest difference is the audience.
In the verses leading up to today’s reading, Jesus has indeed been on a mountain, but by himself. Jesus has been up on a mountain praying, and when he comes down, we find out what he’s been praying for: he comes down the mountain and picks the twelve disciples; those who would carry on his ministry. And in our reading today, Luke is careful to point out that, although there is a multitude gathered—crowds gathered to hear him and be healed by him—but that’s not who Jesus is talking to. Here Jesus is talking to the twelve—he’s talking to his church.
That’s an important thing to know: it’s important because he’s not talking to the world at large here. This is no moral code for society; it’s for those who have been called into relationship with Jesus and sent to live in his reality. In short, just before he says these things, he turns and looks us in the eye. And looking right at us, he says some very perplexing things, doesn’t he?
Blessed are you who are poor.
Blessed are you who are hungry now.
Blessed are you who weep now.
Blessed are you when people hate you, and exclude you, revile you, and defame.
Do you remember the movie “The Princess Bride”? If you do, you probably know where I’m going with this, right? There’s that guy who keeps using the word, “inconceivable!” over and over. And finally Indigo Montoya says, “You keep using that word; I do not think it means what you think it means.” I can just imagine Peter saying something like that: “Hey Jesus, I know I’ve just now been chosen to be an apostle, but you keep using that word ‘blessed.’ But the way you’re using it, I don’t think it means what you think it means.”
It does get worse. He doesn’t seem to know what the word “woe” means either:
But woe to you who are rich.
Woe to you who are full now.
Woe to you who are laughing now.
Woe to you when all speak well of you.
Let’s face it, we don’t always live out the points of the sermons we hear. Even me: there are times that I literally don’t practice what I preach. Some sermons are easier than others. Last Sunday, for example: it was all about deepening our relationships with God, with each other, and with those around us in the world; and I was doing that all over the place last week. I even went on a couple of dates with my wife! Finally, someone preaches a sermon I can follow up with!
The sermon Jesus preaches to us today seems not so easy. Some popular preaching—you know, the kind on television—will sometimes make it seem like the life of the faithful Christ-follower is a life of blessings and prosperity; that if we follow God’s rules just right, everything will be fine and dandy. But that is not the sermon Jesus preaches. This sermon, preached to his church, is a call to a radically different way; a way of that turns the way of the world upside down.
I mentioned that there is a similar sermon in the Gospel of Matthew, but there is another striking difference between that one and this one: this sermon doesn’t spiritualize anything. In Matthew, the blessings are sometimes qualified: blessed are the poor, but they are poor in spirit; blessed are those who hunger, but they hunger for righteousness. There’s a real, physical, sociological dimension to the sermon we hear in Luke; the sermon Jesus preaches to his followers. In Luke, you can’t mistake who God sides with in this world: the poor, the hungry, the weeping, and the hated. And in the surrounding multitude, for those who fit these descriptions, this is (no doubt) good news. If you are poor, if you are hungry, if you are weeping, if you are hated, take heart. God cares for you; God cares about what you’re going through; this is not the last word. This is not forever. You will be rich, you will be filled, you will laugh, you will be welcomed.
But remember, he’s not preaching to the multitude. The poor, and the hungry, and the sad, and the lonely already know the reality of their situation. They will, even without trying, learn God’s new reality. They will, without any effort, find the mercy and care of God. Jesus is not preaching to them. No, this sermon is for the church: for those of us who might be surprised by this reality; for the church when we are rich, well-fed, laughing, and respected. This sermon is to the church when it forgets that God’s reality is not our reality. This sermon is a warning to us when we take more comfort in ourselves and what we have than we do in the mercy and grace of God. This sermon is a reminder that the way things are, are not the way things will be; and we are challenged by the truth that we are not always on God’s side of things. We are challenged to ask:
Are the beatitudes our attitudes?
Do we live simply, caring more for people than stuff?
Do we mourn over the loss of God in our society? And I don’t mean that in the way that judges and condemns society, but the heartfelt grieving of an empty spot in our culture?
Are we persecuted for righteousness sake?
Do our lives and attitudes stand in such contradistinction from society's that we look strange and subversive?
The sermon that Jesus preaches to us today asks us an important question: "If not, why not?"
Let us be challenged by the words of our Savior today; and may our lives conform to the life that he calls us to.
Luke 5:1-11
Matthew 28:16-20
John 4:13-19
Matthew 10:5-14
If you weren’t with us on Sunday, you missed an unusual (but I think good) one. Due to a combination of illness and the movement of the Spirit, instead of the sermon I’d been preparing, I presented a version of what I’d presented at the Leadership Enrichment Event the day before. The material I was presenting was the culmination of many things God has been teaching me, in some ways, my entire life—but more-intensely over the past year. I have come to understand that the life Jesus calls us to is a life of deepening relationships. It is arguably the most important thing we do. And that is precisely the argument I make.
Because it was more of a “presentation,” it wasn’t scripted, as I usually do. So the following is the combination of what I remember saying, my brief notes, and a couple of things I’ve thought of since then.
To begin with, I think the Spirit drew me to present this instead of the original sermon I had in mind is that this is, by far, more important. Over the past couple of years, we’ve been talking with Rev. Dr. Stan Wood about being a “missional” church. That relationship has unfortunately come to an end—I found his insights and personal support to be a gift from God. However, if I have one criticism of his approach to helping us be a missional church, it is this: he kept using the word “missional.” What I think he meant was “relational,” because building and deepening relationships is the most important thing we do as the church. Last Sunday we talked about love (1 Corinthians 13). Last week we heard the Apostle Paul say that love is even more important than faith and hope! This week we ask: how is that love expressed? It is through our relationships; first with our Savior, then with one another, and then with those in the world around us.
So we begin, as we all do, with our relationship with Jesus. We all have our own unique journeys with Jesus—all have our own stories of how we came to faith, and all have our own journeys that led us together as a congregation—but we’re all on the same road. We look to Luke 5:1-11 and see some similar patterns with our life in Christ: first, that he comes to us. Peter and the rest weren’t looking for Jesus; they weren’t looking to become disciples; Jesus comes to them. He begins the relationship with us by coming to us and setting relationships as our pattern of life. Along with that, it’s an imposing kind of relationship: Jesus doesn’t just sit at coffee with us (although he certainly does), he puts us to work. “Let’s go fishing,” Jesus says. “We just went fishing,” say the professional fishermen, but they go anyway. We know the rest of the story.
The next common pattern we see from this story is Peter’s reaction (v. 8): “Get away from me Lord, for I am a sinful man!” The holiness of Jesus compels us to notice that we are not. Of course it does. But how does Jesus respond? Does say, “Oh really? Okay then. Never mind.” Does he say, “Oh you’re not so bad; I’ve seen much bigger sinners than you.” Nope. He looks right past Peter’s sinfulness. He says, “Do not be afraid; from now on you will be catching people.” Apparently, Peter’s sinfulness does not disqualify him from becoming a disciple. Of course, it didn’t disqualify us either.
And of course, we know the disciples’ next choice too. Upon hearing our Savior’s invitation to come catch people, we do what they did: we leave behind what we can and we follow him. We enter into relationship with Jesus.
But of course, Jesus doesn’t just call us into relationship with him; he calls us to be in relationship with one another as well. As disciples, as fellow followers of Jesus, we walk alongside one another as well. We look to the pattern of the Great Commission (Matthew 28:16-20) and see that it is all about our relationships: we make disciples; we baptize in the name of Father, Son, & Spirit (even our God is about relationship!); we remember that the Spirit of Jesus is with us always. We are meant to walk together with Jesus.
But what does that mean? Is there a difference between belonging to a church and belonging to one another as fellow disciples? This is and has been a very personal question for me. This is an illustration that I didn’t use on Sunday: Google the phrase “yubba lubba dub dub.” Did it ask you if you meant, “I am in great pain, please help me”? It is from an adult-themed (and rather inappropriate) cartoon, where one of the main characters uses it as a catch-phrase. It isn’t until much later in the series that we find out its meaning. In other words, this character has been walking into rooms yelling, “I am in great pain, please help me!” and no one has heard him. In the cartoon, because this character is rather unlikable, that revelation is meant to be funny; but in the church, it is certainly not. How do we know if the person sitting next to us every Sunday is crying out for help if we don’t understand the “language” they are speaking.
I won’t rehash the journey away from and toward emotional health that I’ve been on this past year, but I’ve been there. When I was finally made aware that I was “not well,” it was coupled with the realization that I had no one I could talk to about it. Not that I was not cared for; I know I was cared for and I know it now more than ever. What I mean is: I had no one I could reach out to pray for me in the middle of the night. That kind of relationship is deeper than most. That depth of relationship takes a spoken commitment: “I’ll be there for you as you will be there for me.” Since then, I have surrounded myself with such a team of people. The treasure that they are to me has encouraged me to invite you to deepen your relationships with the people in the church: my hope is that you will create your “team” as well. We rarely know when a crisis will arise; but when it does, you’ll want your team on the ready.
These deepening relationships, as vital for us as a church as they are, are not just for us. Deepening relationships is how we bring Jesus to the world. We see how this might be done in John 4. You know the story: Jesus and the boys are traveling through Samaria and, the disciples leave Jesus alone by a well. Along comes a woman to draw water and Jesus (of course!) puts her to work: he asks her for some water and she points out how he’s not supposed to do that. They talk about water a bit and then the conversation turns to the woman’s husband. She says she has no husband and Jesus points out that, actually, she’s had five and the one she’s “with” isn’t her husband. Ouch.
Do we know this woman? Of course we do: we meet people like this every day; people we meet who are living with loneliness and shame; and God is calling us to care for them by entering into a deeper relationship with them. In our context, it might look more like this: maybe you’re at the coffee shop or the library. Maybe she’s on a computer and you notice something isn’t quite right. Nothing prophetic, necessarily; maybe you just notice something. Maybe the Spirit nudges you to ask, “Hey, are you okay?” Maybe that same Spirit nudges her to tell you the truth. “No,” she says, “my husband and I can’t seem to love each other anymore.” And so you enter into real and deepening relationship. Maybe you say something like, “Wow, that sounds really hard. How do you deal with not feeling love with your husband? Are there ways that you’re working on finding that love again?” And maybe most helpful of all, “Is there anything I can do to help? Maybe pray with you?” That is how the Kingdom of God has always grown: we meet them where they are, we walk with them, and we show the love of God along the journey.
The lack of deepening and real relationship is literally killing our society; and that is the one thing we are called to bring to our society. It is no accident that the most urgent thing our society needs and the thing we are most called to do are the same exact thing. Building relationships is not only how we’re called into discipleship, not only what we’re called bring to one another, but it is how we bring salvation to the world.
There is one final point from Matthew 10:5-14 that shows us, in an unusual way, that there may also be a specific kind of person God is calling us to walk with in this world. It’s an interesting story: Jesus sends his disciples out into the world to practice his relationship-building ministry (again, putting us to work). He gives them instructions on traveling light and then adds an interesting note on where to stay. He says, “Whatever town or village you enter, find out who in it is worthy, and stay there until you leave. As you enter the house, greet it. If the house is worthy, let your peace come upon it; but if it is not worthy, let your peace return to you.” What just happened there? Jesus sends the disciples into the world, looking for people in it who are not disciples, but who are “peaceful” to what God is doing. Then, Jesus has his disciples to for them the same thing that Jesus does for everyone else: put them to work. Jesus sends us into the world, looking for what my friend calls “people of peace”—people who are already working in the Kingdom of God, but don’t even know it. Jesus sends us to recognize what God is doing through them and walk alongside them in that work. To show them in your words and actions the miracle of our Savior’s love and them put them to work: let them take you fishing; let them give you water; let them fix you a room.
I’m reluctant to publish the illustration I used on line, but the gist goes like this: God called me a couple of years ago to begin walking with someone in our town who is obviously a “person of peace.” This person does not go to church, but knows we have had many opportunities to have spiritual conversations. I have had opportunities to tell this person, most importantly, that I see what this person does as God’s work. So the other day, this person was going through a difficult situation and asked me if I could pray about it. Of course I did. I don’t know if this person will ever set foot in a church, but that’s not my job. My job is to deepen that relationship, walk with people wherever they are, and keep the door open.
So in the end, I guess the big message is this: remember that everything we do is about building & maintaining relationships; first with the Savior who seeks us and calls us; then with one another as we seek to truly care for one another; and finally with those God puts in our lives as we go out into the world.
1 Corinthians 13
4th Sunday in Ordinary Time
As you might imagine, there’s a class they had me take in seminary where I learned how to serve Communion. There are other classes where we talked about what happens in the Lord’s Supper and what it means, but those classes didn’t make me nearly as nervous.
I remember the day we practiced doing the pastor’s part of the Lord’s Supper; I was scared to death. It terrified me because I’d only seen it done before; done by an ordained, installed, and properly-sanctioned and full-fledged pastor. I was not one yet. I think there was something in my head that was afraid that, if I got the words wrong, it wouldn’t work; like if recited the incantation improperly, the magic wouldn’t take.
Then it came to be my turn: I stood at the little table we’d set up and picked up the little loaf of bread they’d given me and was surprised to find that the words just came. It turns out, when you watch a thing being repeated once a month for your entire life, you just pick it up. In fact, I bet that with a little prompting, you’d find you know the words too. Take the bread: Jesus said, “This is… [my body, which is broken for you].” And then he said, “Do this... [in remembrance of me].”
There are those two parts to it and both are important. Why do we remember Jesus saying, “This is my body, broken for you”? Well, that’s easy: that’s our salvation story; he gave his literal body so that we might have life. But the other part may not be so easy: why do we do this in remembrance of him? Well, that’s what this sermon’s about, but I’ll give you a hint: it may be the reason we do this at the start of every month; it may be the reason we repeat it so often throughout our lives that we memorize it without even trying; and it may be, as followers of Jesus, the very most important thing we do.
So today we hear from the thirteenth chapter of First Corinthians. I don’t know about you, but whenever I hear from First Corinthians thirteen, I instinctually look around to see if anyone is getting married. I am sure I’ve been to a wedding that didn’t quote this passage, but then again, I doubt it. This is the go-to wedding Scripture, right? It’s especially true if the couple isn’t super-Christian: they’re getting married in a church because they think they’re supposed to or their trying to make someone’s parents happy. And First Corinthians thirteen is perfect for that: God is not mentioned once. Did you notice that? If you do attend church on a regular basis, you probably just assume God in their somewhere. You have probably heard the idea that God is love before—that all love is born of God—so when Paul starts talking about Love, you know the code; God’s right there. But if you’re not-so-connected, this is just a wovewy scwipturwe about wuv.
Only, it’s not. Not only is Paul not merely talking about the kind of love that will hold a marriage together, this love is counter-cultural, revolutionary, and even a little subversive. Bringing this passage to a celebration like a wedding, is like bringing gasoline to a celebration like a bar-b-q; you’re asking for trouble.
To understand the scope of what Paul is talking about in First Corinthians thirteen, you need to keep in mind what Paul was talking about in chapter twelve. To a conflicted and diverse church, Paul calls them to live together as if they were one, united physical body; indeed the very Body of Christ. He reminds them, as he would remind us, that we are different from one another by God’s design; that our differences allow us to function uniquely in this Body. But at the same time, those unique gifts, abilities, and experiences come together to serve our Savior’s work in the world; that, bound together by His Spirit, we continue His ministry together.
And as I alluded to earlier, that is the important message we take from this Table: that just as our Savior embodied this ministry for us, in remembrance of him, we are sent to embody it as well. We are, as Paul says, the Body of Christ and individually members of it. So what then do we do? Knowing we belong together and that our gifts are used by God to continue our Savior’s ministry, how do we do that? That’s what chapter thirteen is for.
In chapter thirteen, Paul so excellently shows us that it’s all about love. The gifts we use in the name of Jesus, if they’re not used in love, are worthless. Love is the most important thing; Paul says love is somehow even more important than faith and hope! But he’s not just talking about tender, warm-fuzzy feelings. No, the love Paul talks about in chapter thirteen is the embodied love of God that we bring to the world in everything we do.
I’ve been living with verses four to seven in a unique way over the past couple of weeks. As I was preparing for this message, a couple of things struck me about these verses. Mainly, that they are personal; that they are, in their own way, about me. The way it’s worded is deceptive: Paul starts it with, “Love is.” In my mind, talking about “love” in this way separates it from me personally. “Love is patient; Love is kind; well, good for Love. Keep up the good work, Love.” But if we read these verses—as I think we clearly should—as Paul’s reminder to embody God’s love as the Body of Christ, these words can only be taken personally.
I’ll talk more about this in a minute, but this thought challenged me to re-write verses four to seven. I found it to be really helpful on a couple levels. First, it was helpful because it made it more personal: instead of “Love is patient; love is kind,” my re-write made it, “Be patient; be kind”; I it more of a personal command, do you know what I mean? But it was also helpful because it confronted me: you don’t even get through verse four before you realize that most of this passage about what love is, is about what love isn’t.
As I read, and re-read, and re-read this passage, it became for me a prayer of confession. (No doubt, you also noticed that it became our literal prayer of confession this morning.) As I lived with my more-personal paraphrase of these verses, I was first confronted by the unfortunate truth that I have not embodied love. If my wife wasn’t as graceful as she is, she would certainly confirm that: I have not been patient to her; I have not been kind. I have insisted on my own way, I have been irritable and resentful, and so much more. And it’s not just her: I have not embodied this love to my children, to my neighbors, and to you.
But then, by the grace of God, something better started happening in me than just the guilt of my failures: I started to actually memorize those verses. Something like hearing the words of the Lord’s Supper repeated so many times that you get surprised that you actually know them. I found I could repeat verses four to seven to myself as I walked to and from work; and repeating them, I found I could do a bit better at embodying them. Not perfect, but better. Friends, let these words take root in our hearts:
Be patient
Be kind
Do not be envious
or boastful
or arrogant
or rude
Do not insist on your own way
Do not be irritable
or resentful
Do not rejoice in wrongdoing,
rejoice in the truth
Bear all things
Believe all things
Hope all things
Endure all things
Friends, there is nothing in this world we can do that is more important than embodying God’s love in it. In whatever we do as Christ’s Body, let us do it in love. Wherever we go, whatever we do, and whomever we are with, may love be our goal, now and forever.
