The Caravan's A-Comin'

The caravan’s a-comin’

The images are stunning. A stream of humanity stretched across a bridge, down a dusty road, marching.

What do you see when you look at the photos and footage?

The caravan’s a-comin’

What do you see? Do you see the families torn apart by the violence in Honduras?

To the journalists embedded among them, making the journey alongside them, they tell stories of horror, violence, and threats.

They move forward because they have to. They move because that which is human within them compels them. You would be moving, too. You would be marching if you were in their shoes.

The caravan’s a-comin’

What do you see?

I’m reminded of the Zimbabwean song which has become such an important tune in American churches, called Siyahamba.

We are marching in the light of God, we are marching in the light of God; we are marching in the light of God, we are marching in the light of God.

We are marching, we are marching, ooohhh,we are marching in the light of God;

We are marching, we are marching, ooohhh,we are marching in the light of God.

The caravan’s a-comin’

What do you see? Here’s what President Donald J. Trump sees:

“Let me just tell you something. I spoke with Border Patrol this morning. And I spoke to them last evening, and I spoke to them the day before. I speak to them all the time.

“And they say -- and you know this as well as anybody -- over the course of the year, over the course of a number of years, they've intercepted many people from the Middle East. They've intercepted ISIS, they've intercepted all sorts of people.

“And they said it happens all the time, from the Middle East. There's no proof of anything. There's no proof of anything. But they could very well be.

“But certainly you have people coming up through the southern border from the Middle East and other places that are not appropriate for our country. And I'm not letting them in. They're not coming in.”

The caravan’s a-comin’

What do you see?

It’s a question of perspective.

Politicians see terrorists, ne’er-do-wells, criminals, rapists, security threats, interlopers, and illegal aliens. They see brown skin, poor health, and hungry, thirsty bodies.

Disciples of Jesus see people in need; families with little hope, mothers with children, laborers with nothing to do, girls who want a chance. In other words, they see Jesus himself. “Just as you did not do it to one of the least of these, you did not do it to me,” said the king in Jesus’ parable (Matthew 25:45).

The caravan’s a-comin’

What do you see? Can you see yourself in that great march? Can you see us in that mass migration?

I’m reminded of another song that we sing at church, a hymn called “A Wilderness Wandering People”:

We are a wilderness wandering people on a journey of the soul. 

May we find our destination in our longing to be whole. 

Our Holy God is calling to us. 
With Jesus by our side may compassion be our compass; 

may the Spirit be our guide.

May we cherish all our children, let us heal our family’s pain.

Help us cure our city’s madness, let love and justice reign.

Reconciled with one another in prayer and praise and song, 

we’re the body of Christ together and we know that we belong.

The caravan’s a-comin’

What do you see?

To Rebuild Trust

A couple of weeks ago, I preached on Acts 4:32-37 which tells how the early believers lived life together. They participated in a kind of “Christian communism,” in which everything was held in common, and everyone’s needs were met.

Some of you rightly pointed out afterwards that there is a very problematic story right after this passage. Acts 5:1-11 tells a disturbing tale of a husband and wife, named Ananias and Sapphira, who are part of this community. They sell a piece of their land, keep some of the profit for themselves, and give the rest to the apostles. However, they don’t tell the apostles that they kept some of the money; they claim to have given the entire profit to the community.

The Holy Spirit tells Peter that they are lying about this fact, and the two of them die — right in the middle of the church gathering! 

I’ll admit that if I could remove any text from the New Testament, it would be this one. I refuse to believe that God struck two people dead because they lied to their pastors — God doesn’t work that way! I don’t want to speculate on how this story ended up here, who wrote it or why, but I don’t believe it actually happened like this. I can only imagine that Luke (the author of the Book of Acts) wrote it because he’d heard from a friend who heard from a friend that Ananias and Sapphire were struck dead in the church and — gasp, they had some secrets!! You know how gossip works …

Regardless of how this story ended up in our Bible, I want to point out that the emphasis in the story is on the deceit of Ananias and Sapphira. They did not die in the story because they didn’t give all their money up, but because they lied about it. 

The “lesson” of the story, as disagreeable as it might be, is that lies destroy community. The early Christians must have been aware that, in order for their fellowship to prosper and grow in spite of constant opposition and persecution, they must be entirely open, honest, and transparent with each other. There was no room for deception, dissembling, and secrets.

Lies tear communities apart, because they destroy the fabric of trust that hold us together. If we can’t trust each other to tell the truth about our life together, then we will not be able to stay together. 

That’s why I fear what our current White House is doing. Almost every day, the Administration sends a press secretary to a podium and asks him/her to lie publicly. It began on day one with Sean Spicer insisting that the crowds for Trump’s inauguration were “the biggest ever,” plainly a lie if there ever was one. Now it’s Sarah Huckabee Sanders’ job to fib. Her press conferences are a constant stream of false facts, misleading statements, and untruths. (Seriously — how many different words can we use as synonyms for “lies”?)

As a result, our national sense of unity is eroding. We don’t trust each other, beginning with the people elected to the highest offices. It trickles right down to our local communities and neighborhoods.

The same thing will happen at Kessler Park UMC if we don’t tell the truth to each other as fellow brothers and sisters in Christ. And that’s what I’m most concerned about.

I know that sometimes it’s easier to just lie; we don’t like admitting our shortcomings or confessing our faults. We tell untruths to make ourselves look better, or to “protect” somebody’s feelings. But it always backfires. Lies have a way of circling around and hurting us. 

In last Sunday’s sermon, I argued that a New Reformation would be centered around community, and that we needed to rebuild trust within our faith communities. There can be no trust in communities and organizations if the truth is not paramount.

It’s not just a matter of not telling whoppers; we must learn how to be transparent, to stop holding tightly onto secrets, and to be honest with each other. 

Join me in praying daily that we become a community of trust, truth, and transparency. And I promise not to preach about Ananias and Sapphira any time soon!

A Domination-Free Gospel and Church

At first glance, the scandal involving Harvey Weinstein, the movie producer who has a long history of harassing and abusing women, looks like a single, terrible story of a terrible man who got away with terrible behavior for too long.

But then 38 women came forward to accuse film director, James Toback, of similar behavior. Chef John Besh stepped down from the company he started after two dozen women spoke out about his behavior. And it hasn’t been that long since Bill O’Reilly and Roger Ailes were brought low by harassment claims. And then, of course, there’s President Donald Trump …

The point is, as any woman might tell you if they feel safe enough, that this behavior is far more common than we would like to admit. That’s why the Twitter hashtag #MeToo took off with such intensity.

Unfortunately, the institutional church is not exempt from this behavior. One of the worst cases in recent history involves the former pastor of First United Methodist Church, Fort Worth. Barry Bailey stepped down from his pulpit after multiple women accused him of sexual misconduct; later, a judge ordered him to pay $3.7 million in damages to seven women.

I’m sure you can think of your own examples of pastors who have betrayed the trust that others put in them. Sadly, pastors are not some super-species of the Christian community who are above misconduct.

There is a common thread that runs through all these stories. These are all men with power, and their victims are always people who have less power and are more vulnerable to their advances. And even though these stories always involve sexual acts, the primary motive at work is not simply lust or desire.

The force at work is domination. Harvey Weinstein took advantage of women because he could; he felt entitled to take whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted.

This dynamic isn’t something that only very powerful and wealthy men act out; it can happen anytime someone feels that he or she has power over someone else, and wants to take advantage of that edge.

It’s especially tragic when a pastor engages in this kind of behavior, because it is precisely this kind of behavior that the Gospel opposes. The entire story of Jesus is the story of a man who refused to dominate others. Jesus did not manipulate or coerce others to love him, follow him, or obey him. He let people walk away from him; he didn’t feel the need to prove his divine power or even his true identity.

As Paul said about Jesus in Philippians, “Though he was in the form of God, he did not consider being equal with God something to exploit. But he emptied himself …” (Phil. 2:6-7).

As his followers, we are supposed to imitate this kind of behavior. In other words, even when we find ourselves in a position of power over someone else, we are not to use that position to dominate, force, or coerce. When we find ourselves in a position of leadership, we are to interpret our primary responsibility to be as one who serves, as one who is ready and willing to wash another’s feet.

As your pastor, I am committed to being your servant leader, to being a shepherd who cares for the flock gently and carefully. I am also committed to ensuring that Kessler Park UMC is a safe place for all people, where sexual harassment and abuse is not permitted or condoned, and where all people are treated with dignity and respect. If you have ever been harassed or received unwanted attention by any person at Kessler Park UMC, please notify me or another staff member, and your matter will be addressed immediately.

At KPUMC, there will be no domination, only mutual support, love, and fellowship.