Readings

FIRST LESSON

The first lesson is from A Return to Love by Marianne Williamson

You are a child of God. You were created in a blinding flash of creativity, a primal thought when God was extended in love. Everything you’ve added on since is useless.

When Michelangelo was asked how he created a piece of sculpture, he answered that the statute already existed within the marble. God had created the Pieta, David, Moses. Michelangelo’s job, as he saw it, was to get rid of the excess marble that surrounded God’s creation.

So it is with you. The perfect you isn’t something you need to create, because God already created it. The perfect you is the love within you. Your job is to allow the Holy Spirit to remove the fearful thinking that surrounds your perfect self, just as excess marble surrounded Michelangelo’s perfect statue.

To remember that you are part of God, that you are loved and loveable, is not arrogant. It is humble To think you are anything else is arrogant, because it implies you’re something other than a creation of God.

Love is changeless, and therefore, so are you. Nothing that you have ever done or will ever do can mar your perfection in the eyes of God. You are deserving in God’s eyes because of what you are, not because of what you do. What you do or don’t do is not what determines your essential value—your growth perhaps, but not your value. That’s why God is totally approving and accepting of you, exactly as you are. What’s not to like? You were no created in sin; you were created in love.

SECOND LESSON

The second lesson is from the Gospel of Luke, Chapter 4, verses 1 through 13

Jesus, full of the Holy Spirit, returned from the Jordan and was led by the Spirit in the wilderness, where for forty days he was tempted by the devil. He ate nothing at all during those days, and when they were over, he was famished. The devil said to him, “If you are the Child of God, command this stone to become a loaf of bread.” Jesus answered him, “It is written, ‘One does not live by bread alone.’”

Then the devil led Jesus up and showed him in an instant all the kingdoms of the world. And the devil said to him, “To you I will give their glory and all this authority; for it has been given over to me, and I give it to anyone I please. If you, then, will worship me, it will all be yours.” Jesus answered him, “It is written,

‘Worship God, and serve only God.’”

Then the devil took him to Jerusalem, and placed him on the pinnacle of the temple, saying to him, “If you are the Child of God, throw yourself down from here, for it is written,

‘God will command his angels concerning you,
   to protect you,’ and
‘On their hands they will bear you up,
   so that you will not dash your foot against a stone.’”

Jesus answered him, “It is said, ‘Do not put God to the test.’” When the devil had finished every test, he departed from him until an opportune time.

This Week's Sermon

Date: February 21, 2010

Title: What God Wants: Affirmation

Message Delivered By: Rev. Dr. Joe McMurray

Last week, as your sermon palate clearer, I spoke about the former Catholic Church teachings on Limbo—that place where unbaptized babies were supposed to spend eternity—close to God, but not quite close enough. The church, several years ago, said that perhaps those innocent babies weren’t in Limbo at all, but enjoyed the full merit of heaven, however you define heaven to be.

You may remember that I used, as an analogy, the premise of the 1989 film “All Dogs Go to Heaven.” And I told the story of the man who died and was in pursuit of heaven with his trusted companion, his dog.

You may have seen the recent internet account of a squabble between a local southern Catholic church and its cross-street neighbor, a Presbyterian church, about this same topic. It became what the author called a “church sign” debate on the fate of human’s best friend at the end of life.

The Catholic church marquee read: “All Dogs Go to Heaven.”
The Presbyterian response was: “Only Humans Go to Heaven; Read the Bible.”
The Catholics responded on their sign by saying: “God Loves All Creatures, Dogs Included.”
The Presbyterians responded: “Dogs Don’t Have Souls; This is Not Open for Debate.”
The Catholic marquee was changed to read: “Catholic Dogs Go to Heaven; Presbyterian Dogs Can Talk to Their Pastor.
The Presbyterian marquee then read: “Converting to Catholicism Does Not Automatically Grant Your Dog a Soul.”
The Catholics responded: “Free Dog Souls with Converstion.”
The Presbyterians responded: “Dogs Are Animals; There Aren’t Any Rocks in Heaven, Either.”
And the Catholic marquee then said: “All Rocks Go To Heaven.”

I was sad to find out that this whole exchange was photo-shopped on the internet and didn’t really take place after all. (You can tell, because none of the background of the pictures of the two churches changes at all.) But then, I was suspicious from the beginning, since it’s the Catholic church teaching that denies heaven to dogs (oh, and unbaptized babies).
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Will you pray with me? God you have created a universe of multiple parts where one entity is greater and more beautiful than another. Help us to better appreciate the miracle of all of life, to treat it with respect and love, and to treat it as if it was our gift to you. We are privileged and grateful to be part of your creation. May my words and all of our thoughts be filled with honor and praise to you. Amen.

Today marks the First Sunday of Lent—that time in the liturgical year when we look inward and examine our hearts, and seek new direction and deeper connection with and meaning of God in our personal lives.

Someone also asked a question recently about fasting or sacrificing during Lent. In the Catholic tradition, people often fasted during the six weeks of Lent. At one time, we were required to give up eating meat on Fridays, but we were also supposed to eliminate other favorite foods, perhaps even a staple food item, from our diet during these 40 days.

This “sacrifice” could also take the form of the absence of a specific activity or favorite pastime—like watching television or smoking or socializing—rather than fasting. The whole purpose of this penance was sacrifice, in some way emulating Christ’s sacrifice. The way to do this was to omit something you would miss, something you would generally eat or drink or an activity you would pursue during the normal course of the day.

Each time when you would ordinarily eat that food item or do that thing, you would be reminded of your agreement to fast or sacrifice, and you would pray instead, emulating the time Jesus spent in the desert in prayer as told in Luke’s gospel.

This practice of “giving up something for Lent” was a manner of disciplining ourselves as a sacrifice to God. However, it’s good to remember that as worthy as our intention to sacrifice, it was even easier to forget, which was exactly why we were called to sacrifice in the first place. The point was: is there a way of being more conscious, more mindful of sacrifice and prayer? This provided the answer to that question in days past.

But there are other ways to experience the solemnity of the Lenten season. We tend to associate fasting or refraining from activities as withholding something, or denying some thing to the body or the mind.

While these can be worthwhile endeavors to capture the spirit of being at one with Jesus, they can also carry a negative connotation of the Lenten experience as one of induced suffering, rather than an honest attempt at self-examination and discernment of how better to be at one with God all the days of one’s life, not just the 40 days of Lent.

Deuteronomy, chapter 26 says:

“When you have come into the land that God is giving you as an inheritance to possess, and you possess it, and settle in it, you shall take some of the first of all the fruit of the ground, which you harvest from the land that God is giving you, and you shall put it in a basket and go to the priest who is in office at that time, and say, ‘Today I declare to God that I have come into the land that God swore to our ancestors to give us.’

“When the priest takes the basket and sets it down before God’s altar, you shall make this response: ‘A wandering Aramean was my ancestor; he went into Egypt and lived as an alien, few in number, and there became a great nation, mighty and populous. When the Egyptians treated us harshly and afflicted us by imposing hard labor, we cried to the God of our ancestors; God heard our voice, saw our affliction, our toil, and our oppression. God brought us out of Egypt with a mighty hand and an outstretched arm, with a terrifying display of power, and with signs and wonders; and brought us to this place and gave us this land, a land flowing with milk and honey. Now I bring the first of the fruit of the ground that you, O God, have given me.’”

The writer speaks passionately about the history of Israel and the new-found abundance that had replaced occupation, oppression and emptiness; he talked of the plight of the people who toiled and suffered for the land that God had given them; and then offered thanksgiving and sacrifice to God the deliverer, the provider, the benefactor.

It was the collective wisdom of the community through its experience and its memory that kept alive the power of God’s ongoing activity in the world. And this was a reminder to them not only where they’d been and who they were, but pointed to the possibilities of where they were going and who they were yet to become.

And within the underlying message of this Scripture, it’s important to note the overall spirit of affirmation that took place among the people: God was present and active in every aspect of their lives—God was instrumental in the impact on life’s events—even when they had nothing, before and after they were freed from slavery, when they felt isolated and hungry in the desert, and after they’d reached the Promised Land.

In each incident in their lives, particularly those of great challenge, there was an affirmation by God of who they were and who they were yet to be. There was a self-affirmation, a self-determination of what they expected was God’s desire for them as they settled into the new land to which they had been led—the land flowing with milk and honey.

In case we have forgotten, at times such as these when insurmountable difficulties ensue, suffering seems to be one of the key ingredients present; suffering appears to be one of the essential elements of true spiritual awakening.
Isn’t it true that we are often taken to the depths of despair before we realize the abundance we experience in our everyday lives? Some describe this life-changing event as “the dark night of the soul” though the “event” itself can last for many years; it can reappear over various phases of our lives; or it can insert itself in a wide variety of manifestations.

Often the cataclysmic event, or series of events, occurs before we can comprehend that what has happened to us, regardless of how painful or tragic the circumstance, has happened to us for a reason. We become so mired in misery, we cannot fathom the eventual and sometimes surprising realization of how strong we will have become, how capable we really are, or how much courage lies just below the surface of our desire.

In reality, we know that ultimately, we can be successful in everything we do, not because of the results we achieve, but because we endeavor to try to be successful.

Every person of greatness, prophets, theologians, and saints has acknowledged the depth of their life-changing “desert experience” – the time in their lives when they had wandered, prayed, discerned, fought evil and temptation, and ultimately sought the voice of God to direct them.

And those deep, dark places were almost always followed by a new understanding, a knowing, an affirmation that God had spoken and a new hope had dawned. Through adversity, great wisdom can be imparted if we are courageous enough to face it.

This was, in large part, a parallel to Jesus’ experience in the desert. He fasted, he prayed, he discerned, he fought temptation and resisted evil, and ultimately found and accepted his special calling, even though he knew where it would lead and how it would end.

It’s easy for us to see evil in this story embodied in the person of the Devil, and manifested by the presence of temptation. That Jesus was tempted at all should give us hope. It shows us just how human he was, and how much faith he possessed. Temptation was not easy for Jesus—at least, not as easy as the Scriptures make them seem.

His were not simple temptations, but like those that impact all of us from time to time: the temptation of substance when we experience pain or hunger, the temptation of power when we feel overrun by authority, and the temptation that we might use God to serve our own selfish purposes, in effect, by claiming we are greater than God.

Yet the typical evil we experience, the temptations we face each and every day, are not so much embodied in the form of a devil, per se, but are manifest in a state-of-mind that assumes in some way that we are better than our sister or brother, and that somehow we know better than God.

Evil and temptation are often a part of those deep, dark experiences we face in life from time to time. This evil takes many forms—sometimes evil is cloaked in hatred or bitterness; sometimes it catches us in our desire always to be right; sometimes temptation weakens us, so that we succumb to the voices of criticism that live within our own minds.

But rather than see these events purely as negative experiences, as something we “wouldn’t wish on our worst enemy;” something that makes us proclaim, “I never want to go through that again,” perhaps we should see them as an invitation from God, just as Jesus experienced in the desert, and many other people of greatness experienced in their own lives.

Jesus was transformed by the events in the desert. They molded him. They informed him. And by his transformation, he was emboldened, he became more certain, he was self-assured. Jesus was affirmed by God and thus capable of affirming himself and the pivotal role he was about to undertake.

Perhaps if we viewed our challenges differently, we might find within them an invitation to transform ourselves into the fullness of who we are supposed to become – to achieve the potential that God has made available to us. And with that realization, we affirm not only God’s faithfulness, but we affirm ourselves, made in God’s image, doing God’s work as we are called to do it.

I realize this might be easier to comprehend after the fact, and rarely so clear when we find ourselves in the midst of a trying time. But when we do face depression, or sadness, or gloom; when we are tempted by evil to manipulate others or put negative feelings into the world, when we find ourselves against everything and for nothing, this is the time to remember our relationship with God, and the expectations embedded in that relationship.
Marianne Williamson says: “Nothing that you have ever done or will ever do can mar your perfection in the eyes of God. You are deserving in God’s eyes because of what you are, not because of what you do. What you do or don’t do is not what determines your essential value . . . That’s why God is totally approving and accepting of you, exactly as you are.”

This is what God wants us to know. This is what God wants us to hear, to take in and absorb, and to understand. We are affirmed by who we are; we are affirmed in that we are made in the image and likeness of God and endowed with wonderful gifts and a remarkable essence of being. And only we can affirm this for ourselves—that God is working in us and through us.

As the Lenten season begins, let us look within and seriously discern what God wants for us. Let’s find out who we are, and who we are not. And let us live more deeply in the discovery of who we are becoming. Then we can affirm that essence of being in the eyes of our families, our friends, and this community, and above all, in the sight of God. And may we continue to follow where God is leading. Amen.