Weekly Message - November 15, 2009
Scripture: Mark 12:38-44
Message: Living in God’s Abundance
Last Sunday was a day of high drama at Advance UMC. When the two trustees got to church to unlock the doors, there was a big, plastic coffee can on the front steps. One of them nudged it with his foot, and it was so heavy it didn’t move. The two men looked at the coffee can, thought about the shootings last week in Texas and Florida, and decided to be safe and call the Fire Department to come check it out. The Fire Department decided to play it safe and call the Sheriff’s Office. The Sheriff’s Office by law had to treat it as a potential threat and called the Bomb Squad.
Sunday School and worship were held in the picnic shelter. Traffic was routed away from the church down Underpass Road. The Bomb Squad arrived about 1:30, X-rayed the coffee can, and saw nothing but pennies; a gift for the church. If I had discovered the can, I would have opened it without thinking. But, I am quite happy that someone else had sense enough to be cautious. It could have been a bomb, and it could have been my wife opening it.
But, at a different level, is this a commentary on how we respond to pennies from heaven, blessings that come from God? We either treat them with suspicion, or we act like we deserve them, that we are entitled to receive them. How do we really think about what we have? How do we respond to the one who is the source of all that is? I heard recently that the definition of being rich is having discretionary income. In other words, if you have enough money to provide for your basic needs and have money left over, you are rich.
The story of the Widow's Mite is a story about someone who is not rich. It is the all time great story of Christian giving, the story of a poor woman who gave everything she had to the church. What the rich young ruler could not do, she did without even being asked.
As far as she knew, no one even saw her. But then again, no one ever saw her. She was one of life's minor characters, one of the invisible people who come and go without anyone noticing what they do, when they leave the room. She was one of the extras who ring the stage while the major characters strut around in the middle, impressing everyone with their costumes and drama.
In the temple scene Mark describes for us, the characters include rich people and scribes people who stand out knowing that people are watching. Their clothes fit perfectly. They have flair. When these clothes come into a room, they announce that someone important has arrived, someone whom the no-ones both envy and admire - the rich because they have money, and the scribes because they have status.
The scribes of Jesus' day were Jerusalem's elite, doctors of the law whose long years of study made them the official interpreters of God's word. They were the clergy in long robes, with their names listed in the bulletin. However, they were forbidden to receive pay for doing their jobs, so they lived on subsidies instead - a little from their students, a little from the poor box, a little from the temple treasury.
Some scribes weren't content with a little, however, and found ways to make a lot more - by using their positions to invite themselves into people's home where they accepted the seat of honor, the best cuts of meat, and the best glasses of wine. When they wore out their welcomes, no one dared to tell them so.
So while the scribes may have been without money, they weren't without honor, honor that some - not all, but some of them - used to their advantage. When they felt that advantage beginning to slip, they could always say, "Let us pray," reminding everyone whose side they were on. Or they could spend a little more time in the temple, planting themselves in their long, impressive robes to be seen by those who came to make their offerings to God. The scribes were clearly the people to watch. They were the guardians of the faith, the religious elite, even if they did sponge off the ones they were supposed to be serving.
They were the ones to watch, only Jesus wasn't watching them that day. He wasn't paying attention to what was happening on center stage because he was far more interested in the goings-on in the wings. I don't understand how she caught his attention. She sure didn't catch anyone else's. Even a scribe could see there was no meat left in her cupboard, no wine in her cellar. She was out of food, out of money, out of what it took for a single woman to scratch her living among people who looked right through her. When she lost her husband, she not only lost her place and name, she also lost her face. She became invisible. No one saw her anymore, except for Jesus.
He saw her walk to the temple treasury to give her two coins, and something about the way she did it let him know that it was the end for her, that it was everything she had, so that when she dropped them in the basket and turned to go, he knew she had nothing left that wasn't God's. Her sacrifice was complete, so complete that he called his disciples over to witness it. "Truly I tell you," he said to them, "this poor widow has put in more than all those who are giving to the treasury. All of them have contributed out of their abundance; but she out of her poverty has put in everything she had, all she had to live on."
That is why we know about her today, that nameless woman - because she gave all she had, holding nothing back, which made her last penny a fortune in God's eyes. If you think tithing is impossible, try following her act. She gave one hundred percent. But while she is admired by many, I have to wonder about her.
Are we really supposed to admire a poor woman who gave her last two pennies to a morally bankrupt religious institution? Was it right to give her living to those who lived better than her? What if she was someone you knew, someone barely living on Social Security, and who decided to give her entire monthly check to Jerry Falwell or Jim Baker? Would that be admirable or scandalous? Would that be a good deed or a crying shame?
Nowhere in this passage does Jesus praise the widow for what she is doing. He simply calls his disciples over to notice her, and to compare what she does with what everyone else does. He has them sit down and think about the gap between abundance and poverty. He doesn't put anyone down. He doesn't dismiss the gifts of the rich. He simply points out that the major characters are minor givers, while the minor character turns out to be the biggest donor of them all.
It is the last dizzy lesson in the upside-down kingdom of God, where the last shall be first, the great shall be servants, and the most unlikely people will turn out to have been Christ in disguise. The widow is his last case study. When he leaves the temple with his disciples, his public ministry is over. In four days he will be dead, having uncurled his fingers from around his own offering, to give up his two copper coins of life.
If you ask me, that is why he noticed the poor widow in the first place. She reminded him of someone. It was the end for her; it was the end for him too. She gave her living to a corrupt church; he gave his life for a corrupt world. She withheld nothing from God; neither did he. When he looked at her it was like looking in a mirror at a reflection so clear that he called his disciples over to see. "Look," he said. "That's what I've been talking about. Look at her."
He couldn't have picked a more obscure role model for them that day. If he had taken a picture of the temple that day and handed it to the disciples, they never would have found Christ in the picture. There were major characters in the room, the scribes, the rich people, all easier to see than the woman in rags, a minor character if there ever was one. "She's the one," Jesus tells them. "The one without a penny to her name, she's the one to watch."
I wish he had said it to her. It was a great moment, in which the tragedy of her life took on the possibility of meaning. It was a great tribute to her, in which the generosity of her gift was recognized, only she never knew it. She walked into the temple with her last two coins in her hand, and walked out without them, unaware that anyone had even noticed her. As far as she knew, no one saw her. She came in with no name, and went out with no name. Where did she go?
I keep thinking I see her as I drive around the county. It would sound better if I told you that I was looking for her, but that isn't true. She isn't one of the people I look for. She is more like the people I try not to see, but now that Jesus has pointed her out she is hard to miss. The problem is, I'm never sure it is her. Only she knows for sure, but there are certain clues we can look for.
She's not a main character. If you're not paying attention, you'll miss seeing her. So if you want to see her, you have to really watch, because you never know when she'll turn up next.
The second clue is that she is usually giving something away: her time, her heart, her living, her life. The general rule is we can't see how much it's costing her, but it's always more than we think.
The third clue is that what she is doing rarely makes any sense by human standards. It is as if she gets her orders from some other realm, where superior beings know that you have to let go of what you have in order to receive. Can I even give a tenth of what she gave?
This is as far as I've gotten with the clues, but you can probably come up with some more of your own. Here is what you do. Sit down where you can get a good look at what is going on, and pay special attention to what is happening out on the edge of your vision, where people are harder to see. Then squint your eyes a little and ask: "Where is Christ in this picture?"
Pastor Kirk
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Young People’s Moments – November 15, 2009
Message: “What Is a Family?”
Pastor Kirk asked the children, “What is a family?”
Jake answered, “When everyone gets together to have a family.” Kirk then said, “Like sisters and brothers, a mother and a father, aunts and uncles, grandparents and cousins.” Zoe added, “Families include dogs and cats, too. Oh, and our family has some mice too.”
Kirk asked “Are families good things?” Jake and Zoe answered, “Yes.” Then Kirk asked, “What other kinds of families do we have?” Jake answered, “God.” Kirk said, “That’s right, we have a church family. Everyone here and all the people in heaven are brothers and sisters in Christ. We can say, ‘Nicholas, you are my brother in Christ.’” So the children said to Nicholas, “Nicholas, you are my brother in Christ.”
Kirk continued, “We are going to do something different today. We are going to get some new brothers and sisters in Christ in our church. I want you to take a seat here on the front pew, and in just a little bit, I’m going to have something for you to do.” So the children sat down.
“Tommy and Julie Gaddy, and Tiffany Yokley are going to transfer their membership from another church to our church today. Nancy Boger was baptized as a child here in our church, but she didn’t officially join the church until today. Even thought they have all been going to church here for a while, they are officially becoming our brothers and sisters in Christ today.”
Tommy, Julie, Tiffany and Nancy then took their vows, and Kirk closed by telling the children that he wanted them to shake hands with each of the new members and say “Welcome to the family of Christ.”
Pastor Kirk
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