Sunday, February 19, 2017

Our Values: Service

Cameron Presbyterian Church engaged in a value-forming exercise at our Annual Congregational Meeting, and determined four values that will guide us in 2017: compassion & caring, faith, serving and support. Each Sunday in February, I will focus on one of these values.
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February 19, 2017
Matthew 20:20-34 

20[Salome], the mother of the sons of Zebedee [James and John], came to Jesus with her sons, and kneeling before him, she asked a favor of him. 21 And he said to her, “What do you want?” She said to him, “Declare that these two sons of mine will sit, one at your right hand and one at your left, in your kingdom.” 22 But Jesus answered, “Y’all do not know what you are asking. Are you able to drink the cup that I am about to drink?” They said to him, “We are able.” 23 He said to them, “You will indeed drink my cup, but to sit at my right hand and at my left, this is not mine to grant, but it is for those for whom it has been prepared by my Father.”

24 When the ten heard it, they were angry with the two brothers. 25 But Jesus called them to him and said, “You know that the rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them, and their great ones are tyrants over them. 26 It will not be so among you; but whoever wishes to be great among you must be your servant, 27 and whoever wishes to be first among you must be your slave; 28 just as the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life a ransom for many.”

29 As they were leaving Jericho, a large crowd followed him. 30 There were two blind men sitting by the roadside. When they heard that Jesus was passing by, they shouted, “Lord, have mercy on us, Son of David!” 31 The crowd sternly ordered them to be quiet; but they shouted even more loudly, “Have mercy on us, Lord, Son of David!” 32 Jesus stood still and called them, saying, “What do you want me to do for you?” 33 They said to him, “Lord, let our eyes be opened.” 34 Moved with compassion, Jesus touched their eyes. Immediately they regained their sight and followed him.

Sermon: “Our Values: Service”

“Sons of thunder,” my boys were called by Jesus. That sounds about right. My eldest was named James, his little brother was John. As sometimes brothers close in age will do, they were always competing with one another. As children along the Sea of Galilee, they’d see who could gather the most seashells, or who could swim out the farthest (something I, their mother, was terrified by). Ah yes, I haven’t introduced myself yet, have I? I am Salome, follower of Jesus, wife of Zebedee, momma to those sons of thunder.

As they grew up, their sibling rivalry only became more intense. Instead of seashells, they would fish for ten hours at a time in their father’s business, and try to outdo each other with their catch. I tell you, it was exhausting watching those sunburned teenagers painstakingly count out each fish to determine who knew glory, and who knew defeat.

I didn’t mind a bit of healthy competition, but I always tried to keep my boys humble. This was especially important because of the sort of lifestyle we had: while many families in Bethsaida struggled to put food on the table, we had a thriving commercial fishing business. If you’ll forgive the indelicacy, I’ll just say it: we were rich. We worked hard for it, but still, my boys were afforded a social standing many kids didn’t get. I never wanted them to take what they had for granted, or worse, become arrogant about it.

But sometimes, their rivalry and privilege left them with a chip on their shoulder. After they left the fishing business to follow Jesus, I saw incredible growth in them. The humility and compassion of Jesus brought out those same qualities in them, but every now and then, their old habits bubbled to the surface. When once traveling with Jesus through Samaria to Jerusalem, we all sought a place to stay for the night. But the villagers, being Samaritans, knowing we were Jews, refused. I hated this sort of prejudice, but I knew you never fight hatred with hatred. Before I could calm them down, my indignant boys (who were not very used to sleeping rough) demanded that Jesus call down fire from heaven on those inhospitable Samaritans. What a thing to say! I was so embarrassed. Jesus just looked at them with the weariness of an exhausted father. “No way,” he said. And onward we went to the next village without a word.

But from that day on, Jesus nicknamed by boys the “Sons of Thunder” for their short fuses. It’s amusing to me how few people these days realize the incredible sense of humor our Lord and Savior has.

People also don’t realize that, as a mother, I rarely do things by accident. Matthew painted me as a desperate momma trying to get her boys a little extra glory by asking for James and John to sit at his right and left hands. I don’t suppose he ever considered the fact that this intelligent woman knew exactly what she was doing! I knew what Jesus would say to such a ridiculous request; I also knew it would teach my boys the lesson they needed, which coming from Jesus instead of their own momma, they might just take to heart.

You see, I’d noticed that old rivalry begin to creep up again, only my boys weren’t trying to outdo each other in seashells or fish, but in praise from Jesus and respect from the other disciples. They began to be a bit showy about their discipleship, and I knew that this was a dangerous thing. When your faith becomes a performance, your soul and the world suffers. I knew, like any mother does, that my boys had incredible potential; I also knew they needed to get their egos out of the way to get there.

So, I asked that question of Jesus: will you give them the glory they seek? Jesus, though, isn’t just funny. He’s also very smart. Rather than respond to me, he knew it was the boys who needed the lesson, so he said to them and not me, “Y’all don’t know what you’re asking.”

He went on to talk about the cup of his suffering, a cup he knew this discipleship life would require them to drink of, too. What he said next, I’ll never forget: it was my favorite sermon he ever preached, and I heard nearly all of them.

“You know that the rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them, and their great ones are tyrants over them. It will not be so among you; but whoever wishes to be great among you must be your servant, and whoever wishes to be first among you must be your slave; just as the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life a ransom for many.”

I watched something dawn in my boys’ eyes, and I was so very proud. Suddenly, life wasn’t about how many seashells they could gather, but about appreciating the beauty in each tiny one. Life wasn’t about catching the most fish for the glory, but about feeding as many people as they could. And life wasn’t about getting greatness by the world’s standards of ego, power and competition, but about showing greatness in serving the least of these.

Something changed in my sons of thunder that day: they were somehow softened by Jesus’ words. Sure, they still had their storms, and went through terrible suffering I, as their mother, can’t even speak about to you now. But they had a purpose, a centering value, a calling. And that calling was to be a servant, no matter the cost.

Now, I know I’m not your mother, but you can’t ever really take that mothering tendency away, and I feel like maybe you need to hear that powerful sermon of Jesus, too.

Maybe you’ve gotten too caught up in the rat race of power, ego and status, and made your faith play by those same misguided rules.

Or quite the opposite, maybe you’ve felt you’re too insignificant to do anything real or meaningful for Jesus.

Maybe you’re afraid of the cost of this servant discipleship on your comfortable way of living.

Or maybe you’re just too tired, or too worried, or too jaded, or too sad to feel like being a servant.

Let me, momma Salome, encourage you: if my sons of thunder can be servants for Jesus, so can you. I’ll give you a bit of (unrequested) motherly advice on how to start:

First, let go of who others think you are, or who you think you should be. You can only be a servant if you’re exactly yourself, no more and no less than who God made you to be. No one can serve in the way you can, and that’s a good thing!

Second, when faced with prejudice, hatred and fear (like my boys and those Samaritans who refused to take us in), breathe first. Then, breathe some more. Then, try to see them as human beings, who are so very afraid. Then, try to pray for them. Then, (and this really will take all you’ve got) try to love them. (This isn’t the same thing as being a doormat.) Only after all of these steps can you begin to create change in them and in you.

Third, pay very close attention to your motives for what you do. If, as a church, you’re trying to attract younger people, or be present in your community, or care for those who are suffering, be sure you have the right motives. Survival and money are poor motives; status and publicity are, too. Even warm fuzzy feelings can be. Our motive should always be sharing the love and grace of Jesus Christ through serving all; and if it’s anything else, it’s time to listen to this sermon of Jesus again.

Finally, just do something. You don’t need a vision statement to see the person on the side of the road crying out for help. You don’t need extensive training to reach out to someone with a different religious or cultural background from you and invite them to meet you for pie. You don’t need perfected theological ideas to share what Jesus and this community means to your life when someone asks you why you go to this church. You just need to act, invite, listen and share. If you trust Jesus to lead you, you have all the qualifications you need to serve.

And remember, Jesus showed us what service really is, in case we forget (and we will). It’s patiently putting my boys in line, and immediately after that, having mercy on two blind men, because he practiced what he preached.

May you know the greatness found in rejecting this world’s greatness.
May you know the power found in lifting up the powerless.
And may you know the incredible joy found in living a life of service, for the glory of God, and not your own.


Amen.

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