Can’t you just hear them squealing as they run for the cliff? They plunge to their death and *splat*, the squealing stops.
Poor pigs. It was a horrible way to go. Of course, so is having your throat slit, being butchered, and eaten, so maybe we shouldn’t feel that sorry for them when the demons send them over a cliff.
It’s just a terrible thing to be a pig. I understand they are very intelligent animals. And yet, they’re of no value to us humans until they’re dead. They’re not good for their fur, or their milk. Their only use is for meat. And for the Jews, they aren’t even good for that since Jews don’t do pork.
Perhaps those who watched this bizarre incident had no sympathy for the pigs. But what about the pig owner? Surely, he deserved some restitution. His investment had literally gone over a cliff. Those little piggies were never going to market!
This is my penultimate sermon for God’s beloved at Ascension, and I’ve been musing a lot about those pigs. What if I could put some demons inside a few pigs and send them over a cliff for the sake of Ascension? I don’t mean literal demons and pigs, but metaphorical ones. The demons who are oppressing our ministry and holding us back from living into the Kingdom of God that Christ is calling us to be a part of.
I want to name some of those of those demons for you today as a hope and a challenge for you as you move into a new chapter of ministry. The first demon I wish I could send over the cliff for you is confusing the huddle with the game.
Our ministry also includes caring ministries within the congregation: eucharistic ministers, Stephen Ministers, Sunday school, and youth group.
And then there’s outreach in the community around us: our nursery school, Christian Service Group, Quilters, food trucks, work with the refugee family living in our parsonage, our partnership with Lutherans in Nicaragua, ACTC, Food for Thought, BRIDGE Maryland, Campus Ministry, and more... It’s a long list of ministries that we’re involved in as a congregation. A big thank you to everyone who gives so much of themselves to these ministries.
But what I've neglected to say as often as I should have as your pastor is that most of the ministry of Ascension doesn’t happen through the programs of our congregation, or even our partnerships in the community. Most of our ministry happens in schools, and hospitals, and banks, and restaurants, corporate offices, and small businesses, caring for family members and neighbors. Wherever you are living out your lives as followers of Jesus, in your homes and the places you work and volunteer, that’s where most of the ministry of Ascension is happening.
What we do here on Sunday mornings serves the purpose of a huddle during a football game. We come together and huddle here in this place. But that’s not where our ministry happens. We huddle to get us ready for the ministries we have on the field. The huddle is not the game. It could change the way we do ministry at Ascension if we stopped confusing the huddle for the game.
Another demon I’d like to put into a pig and send on its way for Ascension is concentrating on the rearview mirror.
God has given us an opportunity with covid—an opportunity, not to return to the church we once knew, but to allow God to do a new thing through us. I pray that you don’t miss this opportunity God is giving you. And I pray that your next pastor will have what I am lacking right now—the energy you need for this new beginning. I also pray that you aren’t expecting the next pastor to help you return to the way things were before the pandemic—what many people call “normal” as in, “I can’t wait for things to get back to normal." Ugh.
The more things change and the more uncertain they become, the more we tend to look wistfully in the rear-view mirror. But if you’ve ever driven a car, you know that you can never move forward while you’re preoccupied with looking behind you in the rearview mirror. If you do, there’s a very good chance you’re going to end up driving off the road.
In the months and years ahead, may you move your attention away from the rearview mirror, and instead wait eagerly on tiptoe, trusting that God is doing a new thing at Ascension. Living into the unknown is scary, but it’s the only faithful way to embrace this opportunity God is giving you.
The next demon I’d like to send over a cliff for you is cutting the head out of the picture.
You know how sometimes you can take a picture on your phone or camera, and you cut off someone’s head? It all depends on what the focus of our picture is, doesn’t it?
Do we cut the head out of Ascension’s picture? Let me be clear about who the head is in this metaphor. It’s not the pastor. Or the staff. Or Council. Or our nursery school. Or music ministry. Or youth group. Or anything else that may be near and dear to us. Our head is Jesus.
Our primary focus as a congregation is not to offer more programs. It’s not to get more butts in the pews on Sunday morning. To keep the building cool in the summer and warm in the winter. It’s not to increase our offerings or balance our budget. And it’s certainly not to keep everybody happy all the time. It’s always nice when those things happen, but when they become our primary focus, we’re cutting off our head.
When we cut Jesus out of our picture, by focusing on anything else, we are no longer the church. We may be a social club or a service organization, or any number of other things, but we’re not a church.
The most important thing we do when we huddle together is spending time with Jesus. Understanding what he said and taught and did. Allowing him to challenge us. Preparing ourselves to do what he sent us to do in his name. And allowing him to transform our lives.
Jesus who answered the question, “Who is my neighbor” by telling the story of the Good Samaritan. Jesus who told a rich man to give away everything he has to the poor. Jesus who, when the soldiers came to arrest him, told Peter to put away his weapon. Jesus, who says people will know we’re his followers if we have love for one another. Jesus, who calls us to deny ourselves, take up our cross and follow him. Jesus, who will judge us by how we show our love for him—feeding the hungry, clothing the naked, visiting prisoners, caring for the sick.
Focusing on Jesus is challenging. It’s easy to see why we might prefer to cut off our head. And that brings me to the final pig I’d like to throw over a cliff for you.
In this pig, I’d like to stuff what I’ll call, clinging to the boat.
Do you remember the story of Jesus walking on the water? As he approaches the disciples’ boat, Peter asks, “Ooo. Ooo. Jesus, can I do that too?” Jesus says, “Sure, come on out.” Well, Peter steps out on the water, and he’s doing fine until the waves pick up a bit. He panics and almost goes under, but Jesus reaches out a hand to save him. The part about that story that really amazes me is not Jesus walking on water, but Peter actually stepping out of the boat. No doubt, he is petrified, yet he faces his fears and takes a bold step toward Jesus.As disciples of Jesus, we’re called, not to cling to the boat, but to step out in faith.
We’re living in a scary world right now. I don’t know that any of us would deny that. Increasing gun violence, war in Ukraine and elsewhere, fires in the western US, droughts, floods, and other effects of climate change, the coronavirus that just won’t quit, both blatant and latent racism that won’t go away without a whole lot of struggle, the deepening divide between political parties, widening economic disparity, a global refugee crisis. There are so many reasons to be afraid for our future.
The gospel calls us, not to ignore our fears, but to face them, to step out of the boat. This is a time for bravery and boldness. We cannot cling to the boat and follow Jesus. Are you prepared to step out of the boat and follow Jesus? Know that he’s always there to catch us when we fall, but first… we have to get out of the darn boat!
Those are the four pigs I’d like to throw over the
cliff for you:
1. Confusing the huddle with the game
2. Concentrating on the rearview mirror
3. Cutting
the head out of the picture
4. Clinging
to the boat
Of course, I know I can’t just fling what’s holding Ascension back over a cliff. If I could, I would have done it six years ago when I came to you.
The Christian church is facing unprecedented challenges in the years ahead. Ascension, like all churches, will come to a time in the future when you will become preoccupied with survival. And when you’re in survival mode, it’s especially difficult to remember who you are and what you’re called to do. You will be inclined to play it safe, confusing the huddle with the game, concentrating on the rearview mirror, cutting the head out of the picture, clinging to the boat. It’s when you’re worried about survival and everything in you says, “play it safe” that you need to do just the opposite and step out in faith. That’s when I hope you’ll think about this sermon. Or maybe think about it whenever you’re munching on a slice of bacon.
I’ve gone a lot longer than usual today because this is my final sermon to Ascension. I need to stop before you decide to stuff me in one of those pigs and send me over a cliff. Next week I’ll be addressing the occasion of my retirement. Today’s sermon is what I want to say to Ascension as I leave you.
You’re entering a new era. So is the world around you. No one knows exactly what lies ahead. I can assure you it won’t be without some pain. I hope you know that. Know also that Ascension has been richly blessed by God with abundant gifts to do God’s kingdom work in wondrous ways. Prepare yourselves for the next big adventure!
Preached for God's beloved saints at Ascension, Towson on June 19, 2022.
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