Reverence Regained: Be Serious When You Say My Name

Exodus 20:7
This brief meditation was offered as part of a series on the Ten Commandments in First Baptist Greenville's MidWeek Worship earlier this year.

One of the great, unsung discoveries of the twentieth century is that it’s all about relationships.

The renowned physicist Stephen Hawking tells a story that has circulated in numerous forms about a well-known scientist who

once gave a public lecture on astronomy. He described how the earth orbits around the sun and how the sun, in turn, orbits around the center of a vast collection of stars called our galaxy. At the end of the lecture, a little old lady at the back of the room got up and said: ‘What you have told us is rubbish. The world is really a flat plate supported on the back of a giant tortoise.’ The scientist gave a superior smile before replying, ‘What is the tortoise standing on?’ ‘You're very clever, young man, very clever’, said the old lady. ‘But it's turtles all the way down!’”

“Turtles all the way down” has become a humorous metaphor for the philosophical problem called “infinite regression.” In simplest terms, we can think of the problem of infinite regression this way. Every assertion requires something to stand on. But every assertion we make to support an assertion also requires something to stand on. It’s assertion after assertion after assertion without an end in sight. Without demonstrable evidence that establishes the end of the sequence, it may as well be “turtles all the way down.”

It is not possible to demonstrate conclusively what it is “all the way down” without falling into the problem of infinite regression, but if I had to posit one thing that it is I would suggest this: it’s relationships all the way down—and all the way up and all the way in and all the way out. Consider the atom. The atom was long considered the basic unit of all matter. The word “atom” means “indivisible,” “cannot be cut,” “cannot be split.” But “splitting the atom” was of one of the most promising and horrific advances of science in the twentieth century. It turns out that atoms themselves are composed of other particles, and that an atom is constituted by the relationships among those particles: protons, neutrons and electrons. An atom is not so much a “thing” as it is a set of relationships among positive, neutral and negative charges. The “basic unit of matter” is inherently relational. In fact, at the subatomic level, there have been experiments that suggest that certain subatomic particles simply appear and disappear depending entirely on the presence of other particles to which they relate. Whether they are “there” or they are “not there” all depends on relationship. Whatever else is or is not, it’s relationships all the way down.

So when we talk about “relationships,” we are not talking about “touchy-feely” or “warm fuzzies” or “fluff.” We are talking about what constitutes the essential nature of the universe and our existence in it. It all depends on relationships. What kind of relationships we have and how we behave in our relationships reveal more about us than just our social aptitudes and our psychological states. What kind of relationships we have and how we behave in our relationships reveal how we understand and relate to all that is, including God.

In the ancient Near Eastern world in which the Old Testament was written, one’s name revealed one’s place in the created order. A name was not an arbitrary tag you wore in large social gatherings; it was a definition of your place, your function, your role, your purpose in relationship to the world and in relationship to God. That’s why we read in the creation narrative in Genesis 2 that in the search for a companion in creation for the lone human that the Lord God had created, the deity brought each new animal to ’adam to name it. As each name was given, it would become apparent, verse 20 says, that there was not found a fit companion for ’adam. The name revealed the place, the function, the role, the purpose, and none of the names said “Companion-of-’adam.” Only when God created the one whom ’adam named “Eve, because she was the mother of all living” (Genesis 3:20), was a fit partner to be found. The importance of a name is illustrated in Genesis 17 when the name of ’ab-ram, “exalted father,” is changed to ’ab-raham, “father of a multitude,” because his place, function, role, purpose in relation to the world and to God has changed—and that necessitates a change in name. In Genesis 32, Jacob’s name is changed from “heel grabber” or “trickster” to “Israel,” “he wrestled with God,” says verse 28. His relationship to the world and to God had changed, and so must his name.

In Exodus 3, God’s name is revealed to Moses on Mt. Sinai at the burning bush. When Moses asks God for God’s name—who are you are and what is your place, function, role, purpose in the world?—God reveal’s God’s name in a riddle: “I am who I am,” God says. “Tell them ‘I am’ has sent you” (verse 14). It’s a play on the name that is repeated thousands of times in the Hebrew Bible: “Yahweh.” It is the sacred and ineffable name “He is.” It is a claim on God’s part that “I am present”; “I am active”; “I am effective.” That’s my name. You tell them “Is” has sent you. “I was ‘is’; I am ‘is’; and I will be ‘is.’ You tell them Is-ness has sent you to them, because I am their Is-ness too.”

Oh, and by the way, says your Is-ness in Exodus 20:7, “Be serious when you say my name.” That’s how our five-year-olds translated “Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain.” “Be serious when you say my name.” It’s all about relationship. Don’t trivialize my name. Because when you trivialize my name, you trivialize me and you trivialize yourself because you are created in my image and my likeness. No trivializing! Don’t manipulate my name. When you manipulate my name you are trying to manipulate me, and I will not be manipulated. Manipulation is not the kind of relationship I have created and sustained and redeemed you for. You are not created and sustained and redeemed to manipulate—or to be manipulated either one. No manipulating! Don’t misrepresent my name. When you misrepresent my name, you misrepresent me and you misrepresent yourself. No misrepresenting!

It turns out that this commandment about reverence for God’s name is about reverence in all our relationships. Of course it is about rightful respect and devotion and adoration for God. But because of the relationship that God who is present, active, and effective in the world is in with the world, this commandment is also necessarily about rightful respect and devotion and adoration for all creation and for every human being in the world because we are all created in the image and likeness of God. We live in an era of Reverence Lost. We live in an era of routine trivialization and manipulation and misrepresentation. It’s true in our politics and our economics and our religion and our relationships. Reverence Lost rules the day. Nothing is sacred; nothing is holy; nothing is worthy of respect, devotion, and adoration. But it is, you see. It all is. Because it’s relationships all the way down. Every word and action of our lives that does not take the name of the Lord our God in vain—every word and action that does not trivialize, that does not manipulate, that does not misrepresent God or creation or other human beings—is an act of reverence, devotion, and adoration for God.

The commandment to be serious about God’s name shows us the way to Reverence Regained in an era of Reverence Lost. The rendering of Exodus 20:7 by our five year olds on the tablet on the Table in front of us reminds us that there is both a “No” and a “Yes” in this commandment. Notice how they turned the “Thou shalt not” around to ask and answer the question of the “shall” that the “shalt not” implies: “Be serious when you say my name,” they said. The “No” of the commandment is always and everywhere a “no” to trivializing, manipulating, and misrepresenting anyone or anything. The “Yes” of the commandment is a reminder that our every word and every action and every relationship is an act of reverence, devotion, and adoration for God. Or it is not, depending on the character and quality of that word, action, or relationship. Unlike in the ancient world, your name does not define you. But the character and quality of your words and your actions in your relationships do—and it’s relationships all the way down.

This material is Copyrighted © 2010 by Jeffrey S. Rogers. It may be copied or disseminated for non-commercial use, provided this notice is included. The author can be contacted at jeffrogers110@bellsouth.net.

God's Peacemaking

Colossians 1:15-20
Eighth Sunday after Pentecost 2010

“Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God,” Jesus said (Matthew 5:9). That’s the seventh of the famous beatitudes or blessings that Jesus pronounces at the beginning of the “Sermon on the Mount” in the gospel of Matthew. “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.” But five chapters later in Matthew’s gospel, Jesus said this:

“Do not think that I have come to bring peace to the earth; I have not come to bring peace, but a sword. For I have come to set a man against his father, and a daughter against her mother, and a daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law; and one's foes will be members of one's own household. Whoever loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me; and whoever loves son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me; and whoever does not take up the cross and follow me is not worthy of me” (Matthew 10: 34-38).

“Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.” “Do not think that I have come to bring peace to the earth; I have not come to bring peace, but a sword.” So which is it, do you think? Was Jesus a peacemaker or a sword bringer? And if you are going to follow Jesus, are you going bring a sword or make peace?

The first point in this morning’s sermon has to do with how we read and understand the Bible. Point number 1: If you are going to pick the cherries, then pick the crabapples as well. The cherries are those bright red, sweet and tender passages that everybody loves, like “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be children of God.” The crabapples are those seedy, sour, rock-hard passages like “Do not think that I have come to bring peace to the earth; I have not come to bring peace, but a sword.”

Most people leave the crabapples to the birds and the deer. Nobody in their right mind would choose a crabapple over a cherry. Not even the birds and the deer do that: they’ll strip a cherry tree clean before they’ll touch the crabapples. But when it comes to reading and understanding the Bible, you have to take the crabapples with the cherries or you’re not being honest, you’re not being truth-full about how you interpret Scripture. Jesus said, “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be children of God.” Jesus also said, “Do not think that I have come to bring peace to the earth; I have not come to bring peace, but a sword.” It’s cherries and crabapples, crabapples and cherries in reading and understanding the Bible.

Now, I’m aware of the risk I’m running this morning. It was reported to me this week that one of our middle schoolers went home last week to tell his mother who could not come to church that Jeff preached about peaches. “Really?” she said. “Yep, peaches,” he said. And that’s all he said. He didn’t mention bearing fruit and growing. He didn’t say a word about “love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control” (Galatians 5:22). Nothing about faith and the knowledge of God, about being strong and enduring everything with patience, about bearing with one another and forgiving one another (Colossians 1 and 3). Nope. Peaches. Just peaches. This week, it’s cherries and crab apples. Point number one: you have to take the crab apples along with the cherries when you interpret the Bible.

Point number two: it’s not about the crab apples and the cherries. If all you do in reading and interpreting the Bible is set one passage over against another in opposition, you accomplish nothing more than to draw battle lines between opposing camps for one passage or the other, one for peacemaking and one for the sword.

You might think that the camp for peacemaking wouldn’t have a “battle line,” but it does. I call them “peace hawks.” Those are the people who carry signs for peace, and if you disagree with them, they will gladly clobber you on the head with their peace signs. Demonstrators and counter-demonstrators for peacemaking and for the sword.

It is said that we live in an era of partisanship and polarization. In politics, for example, there are litmus tests and tests of orthodoxy that challengers and incumbents alike must pass. There are tea parties and coffee clatches. There are demonstrations and counter-demonstrations. The same thing is true in Christian faith and practice in the public square: there are proponents of pacifism, and there are proponents of just wars; there are promoters of social justice and promoters of personal piety; there are traditionalists and there are free spiritualists; there are inclusivists and exclusivists. And all both of them use Scripture to support their position.

But the gospel of Matthew tells us it was one and the same Jesus who spoke of both peacemaking and the sword. And if that is so, then it makes sense to think that there must be something else that holds those two sayings together instead of reading and understanding them as competing bases of operations for opposing camps. I think there is. And the thing that holds them together is found at the end of the saying that begins, “Do not think that I have come to bring peace to the earth; I have not come to bring peace, but a sword.” If you read that saying all the way to the end, you come to this: “whoever does not take up the cross and follow me is not worthy of me.” The end of the sword passage is at the cross. Now listen again to the end of this morning’s epistle lesson when the apostle Paul speaks of God’s peacemaking: “through Christ God was pleased to reconcile to God’s self all things, whether on earth or in heaven, by making peace through the blood of his cross.” “By making peace through the blood of his cross.” The biblical sayings about peacemaking and sword-bringing come together at the cross.

Do you remember that school-day science exercise with the magnet and the metal filings? Do remember how the teacher told you to place the magnet on the tabletop and put a piece of paper on top of it? And then you sprinkled the metal filings on top of the paper, and you saw how the filings arranged themselves in the pattern of the magnet’s magnetic field. If you moved the paper around on the magnet, the filings variously stood up and laid down and moved around on the paper. It’s one of those first childhood lessons in science and faith alike that shows you clearly that there are forces at work in the world that you cannot see but that are as real as can be in spite of their invisibility. In Christian reading and understanding the Bible, the cross is the magnet in relation to which all else stands in the same magnetic field, not in opposing camps. So point number 2 is that it’s not about the crabapples and the cherries; it’s about the magnetic field of the cross. It’s about the cross.

Point number 3: God’s idea of peacemaking and God’s practice of peacemaking is revealed in the cross. Colossians 1:20 tells us that God’s peacemaking in the cross is about reconciliation, about bringing parties together. It’s about reconciliation, not annihilation or domination or capitulation. If conflict ends just because no one is left on one side or the other to disagree, that’s not peace; that’s annihilation. If conflict ends just because one side overpowers the other, that’s not peace; that’s domination. If conflict ends just because one side gives up, that’s not peace; that’s capitulation. God’s peacemaking ends in reconciliation or right relationship between previously warring parties. So the first thing to see about God’s peacemaking revealed in the cross is that it is about reconciliation, bringing parties together in a right and healthy relationship.

The second thing to see about God’s peacemaking revealed in the cross is that it is sacrificial. It’s sacrificial, and God is the one who makes the sacrifice. That’s the amazing grace of God’s peacemaking: God makes the sacrifice so that we are reconciled, put in right relationship with God and with one another.

One of the most powerful movie-going experiences of my formative years was seeing the Academy-Award-winning movie Patton in 1970. In it, George C. Scott, who played the larger-than-life character of U.S. General George S. Patton of World War II fame, stood in front of a giant American flag and delivered a rousing speech to the troops. The zinger that I still remember 40 years later went something like this—not exactly like this, mind you, but this is how I remember it; and by the way, General George Patton never said it, but actor George C. Scott did, more or less: “You don’t win a war by dying for your country. You win a war by making the other poor bastard die for his country.”

That’s peacemaking as the world makes peace: annihilation or domination or capitulation of one’s enemies. But the amazing grace of God’s peacemaking through the cross is captured in what the apostle Paul writes in Romans 5:10: “while we were enemies, we were reconciled to God through the death of his Son.” We were all enemies of God, Paul says. Theologically speaking, we are all poor bastards dying of far less noble things than our country; but God in Jesus Christ, instead of making us die, made peace with us by dying for us on the cross. God’s peacemaking, unlike the world’s peacemaking is always self-sacrificial. God is the one who makes the sacrifice so that we may live—and live abundantly, Jesus says in the gospel of John (John 10:10). Self-sacrifice is the way of God’s peacemaking.

The third thing to see about God’s peacemaking revealed in the cross is that it always brings a sword, and the sword is in this. So long as the world understands making peace as annihilation, domination, or capitulation, there will be divisions among us. We will be divided not only by the things that divide us already—our self-confessed orthodoxies in politics and religion and culture and economics—but we will also be divided on how to overcome those divisions. At one time or another, every one of us has stood in the place of the psalmist who said, “Too long have I had my dwelling among those who hate peace. I am for peace; but when I speak, they are for war” (Psalm 120:7). We have all experienced that place at some point in our families or at work or at school or at church, much less in domestic and foreign affairs. That’s the dividing sword of the gospel. The sword of the gospel that divides is in answering the call to peacemaking by taking up the cross and following Jesus all the way to the cross where God’s reconciling idea of peacemaking and God’s reconciling practice of peacemaking is revealed. And that was point number 3, remember.

Finally, point number 4. Because God makes peace with us, it is possible for us to seek and to find peace in God. There is a “peace of God which passes all understanding,” as the apostle Paul wrote to the church in Philippi (Philippians 4:7). It is a peace that transcends all earthly conflict and tension. It is a peace that transcends all earthly fear and terror. It is a peace that transcends all earthly grief and loss. When we find our peace in God, we experience a peace on earth that allows us to sleep in heavenly peace. When we find our peace in God, we are able to sing along with songwriter-singer Michael McDonald:

I have come from so far away
Down the road of my own mistakes
In the hope You could hear me pray
Oh Lord, keep me in your reach. . . .

[Your] Love won't compromise
It's a gift, it's a sacrifice
My soul renewed, and my heart released
In You I'll find my peace.

Amen.

This material is Copyrighted © 2010 by Jeffrey S. Rogers. It may be copied or disseminated for non-commercial use, provided this notice is included. The author can be contacted at jeffrogers110@bellsouth.net.

Bearing Fruit in Every Good Work

Colossians 1:1-15
The Seventh Sunday after Pentecost 2010

The peaches are ripe, and that makes this a great time of year. My grandfather always said that you know a peach is ripe when it drops off the tree. Unless you have a peach tree in your back yard, you can’t get peaches any closer to ripe than at a South Carolina orchard or farmer’s market right now. The trees are heavy with fruit and the fruit stands are full, and that makes this a great time of year.

It’s something of a reach to think that when the apostle Paul wrote about “bearing fruit” in Colossians 1 he was thinking of peaches. It’s a reach, but it’s not impossible. Peaches were cultivated in China thousands of years before Christ. They were introduced to ancient Persia (modern-day Iran) hundreds of years before Christ. The Persians introduced them to the Greeks and Romans who called them “Persian apples.” By the time Paul was born and traveled the Mediterranean basin, peaches were known and grown all the way from China to Europe. One twentieth-century German biographer of Paul writes, perhaps a bit romantically, of the apostle’s travel on the island of Cyprus where he would have seen “big groves of fruit trees, oranges, lemons, figs, mulberries, peaches, and apricots” (Joseph Holzner, Paul of Tarsus [London: Scepter, 2002], p. 118). Perhaps he did.

Peaches or no peaches, Paul speaks of fruit in four passages in his surviving letters (Romans 7:4-5; 1 Corinthians 9:7; Galatians 5:22; Colossians 1:6-10). In the passage in front of us this morning, Paul speaks of “bearing fruit” three times in five verses. In v 6, he says that the gospel of Jesus Christ “is bearing fruit and growing in the whole world,” just as it has been “bearing fruit,” he says, among the congregation at Colossae. And then in v 10, he says that leading “lives worthy of the Lord” can be characterized as “bearing fruit in every good work.” “Bearing fruit in every good work.”

Unlike in Galatians 5:22 where Paul lists the fruit he has in mind—love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control—in Colossians 1 Paul doesn’t provide us with a simple inventory of the traits involved in leading “lives worthy of the Lord.” But in chapters 1 and 3 of Colossians we can see the kind of fruit he has in mind. In chapter 1, he praises the Colossians for their “faith in Christ Jesus” and “the love that [they] have for all the saints” (v 4). He speaks of “growing in the knowledge of God” (v 10), of “being strong” and “enduring everything with patience” (v 11), and of “joyfully giving thanks” to God (v 12). That’s the kind of fruit Paul has in mind. In chapter 3, Paul goes on to cites “compassion, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience,” bearing with one another and forgiving one another, love, peace, wisdom, gratitude, and giving thanks to God (vv 12-17). That’s the kind of fruit Paul has in mind in Colossians 1. But this morning, instead of focusing on the produce of the Christian life in “bearing fruit and growing,” I want to focus on the process of “bearing fruit and growing.” The process rather than the produce.

As the new life of spring arrives, fruiting trees and vines begin to bud, and in the bud there is a promise that fruit will be borne. The bud is not the fruit, but it’s the first evidence of the process that leads to fruit. In Romans 7, one of Paul’s other “bearing fruit” passages, he speaks of “new life in the Spirit” (v 6). At our baptism, Paul says, it is as though we are buried with Christ and raised with Christ “to walk in newness of life” (Romans 6:4). That’s the budding stage of faith and the Christian life. It’s the earliest sign of spring in our souls as we begin to grow, and “peace, patience, kindness, generosity” begin to bud. In the bud there is a promise of fruitfulness to come. As that new life grows, the bud opens and a flower blooms. That’s how it’s supposed to go. But the truth is, there are people whose faith and Christian life bud but never bloom. They have an early experience; they exhibit an early sign of life; they make an early commitment to grow. But for one reason or another, the bud dries up and dies. The promise of faith is lost: they bud but never bloom.

But the bud that blooms opens into a flower. In the bloom there is beauty: faith and love and joy and hope. Because it’s so attractive, some people make the mistake of thinking that the flower in all its beauty is the goal. But it’s not. The flower is not the end: just like the bud, it’s only a means to the end of bearing fruit. The flower’s beauty serves the purpose of pollination, and pollination leads to fertilization, and fertilization leads to the setting of the fruit. That’s how it’s supposed to go. But there are people whose faith and Christian life bloom but never set. They are beautiful for a time; but in the end, it turns out that they are unproductive, long on looks but short on fruit. They bloom but never set. In the setting of the fruit there is potential. “Faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control” begin to set so that the fruit can grow and ripen and mature, “growing in the knowledge of God,” “being strong,” “enduring everything with patience,” “bearing with one another” and “forgiving one another.”

There is nothing to compare with maturity. It’s not as showy as the flowering stage, but in the fruit there is fulfillment. In Colossians 1, Paul calls us all to the full maturity of faith and the Christian life when he says that bearing fruit in every good work is what living lives worthy of the Lord looks like. It’s not the bud with all its promise; it’s not the bloom with all its beauty; it’s not the set with all its potential. It’s the bearing fruit. But there are people and churches alike who set but never mature. Everything was in place except growth and fruitfulness. They were ready to ripen, but they never did. Instead they remained forever stunted, immature. For whatever reason, they didn’t grow in the knowledge of God; they didn’t become strong and endure everything with patience; they couldn’t bear with one another and forgive one another. It is the fruit that is the fulfillment.

But the truth be told, we’re not done yet. When we’ve arrived at bearing fruit, we haven’t arrived yet at the end of faith and the Christian life and the life of the church. Because as far as the plant that produces the fruit is concerned, the purpose of the fruit is to provide seed because in the seed is the future. Bearing fruit is about producing seeds. Sadly enough, there are people and churches alike who mature in faith and the Christian life but never go to seed. They arrive at a place of maturity, but they never pass it on; they never scatter and sow and plant. It is enough for them to enjoy their own sense of fulfillment, their own sense of calling, their own sense of community. And so as they age and eventually decline, senescence it’s called in biological terms, there is no one in the generation to come to take up the faith and life and the church. You may like to eat seedless grapes and seedless watermelons, but in the Christian faith and life and in the church, if there are no seeds, there is no future. Bearing fruit in every good work means going to seed every bit as much as it means budding and blooming and setting and maturing. It means passing it on, scattering and sowing and planting the gospel so that fruit may be borne by others. That’s the process we live in faith and the Christian life and the church.

Now, here’s the thing about bearing fruit and growing. It takes a lot of time and attention and effort, a lot of patience and care and feeding. In the gospel of Luke, Jesus told this parable.

A man had a fig tree planted in his vineyard; and he came looking for fruit on it and found none. So he said to the gardener, “See here! For three years I have come looking for fruit on this fig tree, and still I find none. Cut it down! Why should it be wasting the soil?” He replied, “Sir, let it alone for one more year, until I dig around it and put manure on it. If it bears fruit next year, well and good; but if not, you can cut it down” (Luke 13:6-9).

As Jesus’ parable shows, sufficient feeding is essential for bearing fruit.

Fred Craddock tells this story of insufficient feeding.

I went to see a lady in our church who was facing surgery. I went to see her in the hospital. She had never been in the hospital before, and the surgery was major. I walked in there. She was a nervous wreck, and she started crying. She wanted me to pray with her, which I did. By her bed there was a stack of books and magazines: True Love, Mirror, Hollywood Today, stuff about [celebrities and such]. She just had a stack of them there, and she was a wreck. It occurred to me, There’s not a calorie in that whole stack to help her through her experience. She had no place to dip down into a reservoir and come with something—a word, a phrase, a thought, an idea, a memory, a person. Just empty. How marvelous is the life of the person who, like a wise homemaker, when the berries and fruits and vegetables are ripe, puts them away in jars and cans in the cellar. Then when the ground is cold, icy, and barren and nothing seems alive, she goes down into the cellar, comes up, and it’s May and June at her family’s table. How blessed is that person.

When the trees are heavy with fruit and the fruit stands are full, it is the best time of the year to commence to canning, putting up the food—the nutrients and the calories—your soul will need when the ground is cold, icy, and barren and nothing seems alive. Blessed are those who store up food for their own soul and for the souls of others for when the winter comes. Craddock also tells a story about putting up just enough to make it through.

A young woman said to me, during her freshman year of college, “I was a failure in my classes; I wasn’t having any dates; and I didn’t have as much money as the other students. I was just so lonely and depressed and homesick and not succeeding. One Sunday afternoon,” she said, “I went to the river near the campus. I had climbed up on the rail and was looking into the dark water below. For some reason or another I thought of the [words], ‘Cast all your cares upon [God] for [God] cares for you.’” She said, “I stepped back, and here I am.” I said, “Where did you learn [those words]?” She said, “I don’t know.” I said, “Do you go to church?” “No . . . Well, when I visited my grandmother in the summers we went to Sunday school and church.” I said, “Ah . . .”

That’s putting up just enough to see you through. When the trees are heavy with fruit and the fruit stands are full, it’s the best time of the year to put up the food—the nutrients and the calories—your soul will need when the ground is cold, icy, and barren and nothing seems alive. Blessed are those who store up food for their own soul and for the souls of others for when the winter comes.

One of the places our souls are fed is at the Table of the Lord. Jesus said, “I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never be hungry” (John 6:35). Jesus also said, “those who drink of the water that I will give them will never be thirsty. The water that I will give will become in them a spring of water gushing up to eternal life” (John 4:14). I invite you to share in the bread and the cup that come from this Table in the prayer that you may eat and drink so as to bear fruit in every good work.

The stories attributed to Fred Craddock are from Craddock Stories, by Fred B. Craddock (St. Louis, MO: Chalice Press, 2001).

This material is Copyrighted © 2010 by Jeffrey S. Rogers. It may be copied or disseminated for non-commercial use, provided this notice is included. The author can be contacted at jeffrogers110@bellsouth.net.

A Free Church in a Free State

Galatians 5:1-15
The Sixth Sunday after Pentecost 2010
The Fourth of July

My country, ’tis of thee,
Sweet land of liberty, of thee I sing;
Land where my fathers died,
Land of the pilgrims’ pride,
From every mountainside, let freedom ring.

“Let freedom ring!” On August 28, 1963, the Baptist preacher the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., at the close of one of the most famous speeches in the history of American oratory, combined the words of that familiar patriotic hymn with the words of an old Negro spiritual, “Free at last”: “Free at last! Free at last! I thank God, I’m free at last!” King didn’t know at the time that he was reciting his own epitaph, words that would one day be engraved on his crypt at the King Center in Atlanta. What I don’t know whether King knew or not is that the words of the familiar patriotic hymn he quoted as he stood that day on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial in Washington, D.C., were written by another Baptist preacher, Samuel Francis Smith.

Smith was born in Boston in 1808, and the words he penned, “My Country ’Tis of Thee,” were first performed publicly on the Fourth of July in 1831 at Boston’s Park Street Church. Rev. Smith's hymn quickly became, in effect, the first national anthem of the United States; and it served in that capacity for nearly a century until Congress officially and unfortunately, I think, adopted Francis Scott Key’s poem “The Defence of Fort McHenry” in its place in 1931. On this Fourth of July, 179 years after “My Country ’Tis of Thee” was written by Rev. Smith and 47 summers after Rev. King recited it in his speech, I want us to consider for just a few minutes what those two American songs, “My Country ’Tis of Thee” and “Free at Last,” along with the Paul’s words in Galatians 5, can tell us about a free church in a free state.

In a nutshell, the phrase “a free church in a free state” expresses the religious and political ideal of a commonwealth in which religious communities are unencumbered by state interference or support either one, and the state is free from the control or interference of religious bodies. The origin of the mutual freedom of the church and the state in their relationship with each other is grounded not alone in political theory or philosophy but in theology as well. In Galatians 5, we read some of the apostle Paul’s most stirring words on freedom in all of his writings: Paul writes in v 1, “For freedom Christ has set us free,” He could have written, “Free at last! Free at last! I thank God, we’re free at last!” In v 13 Paul writes, “For you were called to freedom, brothers and sisters.” He could have written, “Let freedom ring!”

He wrote those words in the context of an argument he was making that the essence of the gospel of Jesus Christ is best expressed in living freely and faithfully rather than legalistically and exclusivistically. After Paul had started the church to whom he is writing in the Roman province of Galatia in Asia Minor or modern-day Turkey, other teachers of the Way passed through and convinced at least some members of the congregation that in order to be a follower of Jesus you had to follow Moses. To follow Jesus, they said, it was necessary to observe the dietary restrictions and festivals and seasons and male circumcision that are written in the Torah, the first five books of the Bible. In terminology that fits our day—but not theirs—they said in effect that in order to be Christian you must be Jewish. Paul’s sarcastic response to that kind of legalistic and exclusivistic understanding of the gospel and of the church was to say, “Fine. You want to go that way? Go that way. Go all the way. Cut it off. Cut it all off,” he says in v 12. One widely read religious encyclopedia claims that a free church in a free state means “an emasculated church.” But the apostle Paul had already claimed that metaphor in the first century of the church’s life when he insisted that it is legalism and exclusivism—not freedom—that emasculates.

Now the truth of the matter is, in the grand sweep of the history of religion, we Christians are far more Jewish than most of us will ever understand or admit. Not because we follow the dietary restrictions and the festivals and seasons (though Pentecost is one of them!) or because at least some among us are circumcised. But because Paul’s call to freedom—and ours—is grounded in an understanding of God that is at least as old as Moses, who announced on behalf of God to an oppressive Pharaoh, “Let my people go!” (Exodus 5:1). It is as if Moses said, “Let freedom ring!” Paul’s call to freedom—and ours—is grounded in an understanding of God who announced through a prophet, “Is not this the fast I choose: to loose the bonds of injustice . . . to let the oppressed go free, and to break every yoke?” (Isaiah 58:6). It is as if the prophet said, “Let freedom ring!” Paul’s call to freedom—and ours—is grounded in an understanding of God of whom the psalmist sings, “Happy are those whose help is the God of Jacob, whose hope is in the Lord their God, who made heaven and earth, the sea, and all that is in them; who keeps faith forever; who executes justice for the oppressed; who gives food to the hungry. The Lord sets the prisoners free” (Psalm 146:5-8). It is as if the psalmist said, “Free at last! Free at last! I thank God I’m free at last.” The idea of a free church in a free state is grounded in a profoundly Jewish and Christian understanding of God who sets people free.

The fourth verse of Samuel Francis Smith’s appeals to that understanding of God when the song that begins as a hymn to “America” becomes a prayer to God, “author of liberty, to Thee we sing. Long may our land be bright with freedom’s holy light. Protect us by thy might, Great God our King.” “My Country ’tis of Thee” and “Free at Last” are both reminders that the freedoms that make this country great are grounded in a religious or theological or spiritual impulse that understands the very Creator of the cosmos as the author of liberty. “Liberty and justice for all” is not merely a social contract; it’s a cosmological imperative. The “sweeping statement of human rights” with which the American Declaration of Independence begins, the self-evident truths that all persons “are created equal” and “are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights,” are expressions of Ultimate Reality, not merely political philosophy. The free church in a free state proclaims that God is the author of liberty and the Ultimate Proponent of freedom.

Sadly, in an era in which the name “Baptist” has an overwhelmingly negative connotation among the American public because of a recent penchant among certain Baptists for promoting legalism and exclusivism rather than freedoms, it could be easily overlooked or forgotten that no communion of the Christian faith has done more or suffered more to ensure the freedoms and liberties that all Americans enjoy. On May 16, 1920, another Baptist preacher, a native of western North Carolina, the Rev. George W. Truett, who after his family’s move to Texas in 1889 became pastor of the First Baptist Church of Dallas, stood on the steps of U.S. Capitol and delivered what is widely regarded as one of the finest sermons on religious liberty that has ever been preached. Listen to what Truett said about the Baptist contribution to American government and Western Civilization. It’s couched in the language of the 1920s, but it is no less true for that. Truett said,

the supreme contribution of the new world to the old is the contribution of religious liberty. This is the chiefest contribution that America has thus far made to civilization. And historic justice compels me to say that it was pre-eminently a Baptist contribution. The impartial historian, whether in the past, present or future, will ever agree with our American historian, Mr. [George] Bancroft, when he says: “Freedom of conscience, unlimited freedom of mind, was from the first the trophy of the Baptists.” And such historians will concur with the noble [British philosopher] John Locke who said: “The Baptists were the first propounders of absolute liberty, just and true liberty, equal and impartial liberty."

That’s what Truett said and Bancroft said and Locke said. When we gather in this place to worship God in a congregation whose middle name is “Baptist,” some of us do so with a tinge of discomfort on account of that name. But it is in this place and among this people that you can worship in “freedom of conscience, unlimited freedom of mind,” in “absolute liberty, just and true liberty, equal and impartial liberty.”

Far ahead of his time, George W. Truett went on to address the difference between “toleration” and “right.” Truett said this—and would that it were as true of Baptists in the early 21st century as it was in the early 20th century:

Baptists have one consistent record concerning liberty throughout all their long and eventful history. They have never been a party to oppression of conscience. They have forever been the unwavering champions of liberty, both religious and civil. Their contention now is, and has been, and, please God, must ever be, that it is the natural and fundamental and indefeasible right of every human being to worship God or not, according to the dictates of his conscience, and, as long as he does not infringe upon the rights of others, he is to be held accountable alone to God for all religious beliefs and practices. Our contention is not for mere toleration, but for absolute liberty. There is a wide difference between toleration and liberty. . . . Toleration is a concession, while liberty is a right. Toleration is a matter of expediency, while liberty is a matter of principle. Toleration is a gift from man, while liberty is a gift from God. It is the consistent and insistent contention of our Baptist people, always and everywhere, that religion must be forever voluntary and uncoerced, and that it is not the prerogative of any power, whether civil or ecclesiastical, to compel men to conform to any religious creed or form of worship, or to pay taxes for the support of a religious organization to which they do not belong and in whose creed they do not believe. God wants free worshipers and no other kind.

The next time you are inclined to be embarrassed because you are a Baptist or are associated with Baptists, I hope you will remember that no middle name in all of church history has stood up more strongly or more consistently for “freedom of conscience, unlimited freedom of mind,” for “absolute liberty, just and true . . . , equal and impartial.” That’s why this former Lutheran kid is never embarrassed to be called a “Baptist,” even by people who think I should be. Because I follow in the way of the Rev. Samuel Francis Smith, the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., and the Rev. George W. Truett, who spoke out of and for a way of following Jesus that renders to Caesar what is Caesar’s and renders to God what is God’s (Mark 12:17), and steadfastly refuses to confuse the two.

The idea of a free church in a free state has been called by some “the Christian ideal” and by others “an impracticable dream.” And that intersection of the imperative of the ideal and the impracticableness of the dream brings us back to August 28, 1963, on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial. You may or may not know that the manuscript that the Rev. Dr. King had prepared for that occasion made no reference at all to the most memorable and enduring part of his speech. It was only in the course of his delivery—and late in his remarks, no less—that the great gospel singer Mahalia Jackson called out to King, “Tell them about the dream, Martin! Tell them about the dream!” And so he did. And did he ever. And an impracticable dream became forever linked in American oratory and in American conscience with the imperative of the ideal, “Let freedom ring!” and “Free at last! Free at last!” Ideals and dreams are always considered “impracticable” by some people. But history has shown us again and again that all that ideals and dreams require is individuals and communities with the courage and the fortitude to put them into practice.

And that brings me to a final note on a free church in a free state. Freedom is never free. It’s the most costly human right of all. If you didn’t know it already, Baxter Wynn’s wonderful treatment of “Two Sons of Atlanta” has taught you that Martin Luther King, Jr., grew up in a privileged and affluent family, a family in which college educations and doctoral degrees and European travel were par for the course. King’s family looked a lot like a lot of the best-educated families in our congregation. But I would remind you that when King was assassinated on April 4, 1968, he was in Memphis, TN, standing up for garbage collectors. Garbage collectors. The son of an educated and affluent Atlanta family died for garbage collectors. He died in the course of an effort to give others a character and quality of life that he enjoyed but they did not.

But we have already heard the apostle Paul tell us it should be that way. In Galatians 5:13-14, Paul wrote, “For you were called to freedom, brothers and sisters; only do not use your freedom as an opportunity for self-indulgence, but through love become slaves to one another. For the whole law is summed up in a single commandment, ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’” That’s the law beyond legalism; that’s the gospel beyond exclusivism; and that’s the cost of a free church in a free state.

“Let freedom ring!” so that one day “all the peoples of the earth” can sing, “Free at last! Free at last! Thank God Almighty, we’re free at last!”


This material is Copyrighted © 2010 by Jeffrey S. Rogers. It may be copied or disseminated for non-commercial use, provided this notice is included. The author can be contacted at jeffrogers110@bellsouth.net.