Living in the Light

Was there a moment when you realized your faith journey was your own, and not just what you'd been taught? This sermon explores those moments when we embrace our personal relationship with Christ. Share your own story here. https://fumclr.org/storiesoffaith/

Transcript

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This week I was talking with someone who's facing pretty serious surgery soon. But our conversation wasn't about the surgery or the significant risks involved. It was about their sister, who is worried about their eternal salvation. Apparently, their sister has a much more conservative evangelical understanding of Christianity. And she called the other day because she's worried that they haven't accepted Christ into their heart, and if they don't survive this surgery, they will go to hell. Now, mind you, this person has been baptized, has made a profession of faith. They've spent their entire adult life as members of churches. They just happen to be United Methodist churches, so I guess our belief in Christ is the sugar-free variety of Christianity. But to me, this is a very strange way to show compassion and concern. On one hand, it's based in love. And that love is manifesting in fear of spending eternity without their loved one. But on the other hand, it's cloaked in judgment. It says, I love you, but you aren't good enough. Nothing in your life matters unless you believe and act like me. Is this what Jesus means when he says, I have come to set man against his father and daughter against her mother? One's foes will be members of one's own household? I mean, that is rough stuff. Especially when he says, Whoever loves father and mother more than me is not worthy of me, and whoever loves son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me. Happy Father's Day. Is Jesus saying that to follow him we must give up our most sacred family relationships? Are we supposed to prove our devotion to God by abandoning our families if they disagree? Are we supposed to try and convince those who believe and live differently so adamantly and harshly that we'd be willing to destroy the relationship? That our judgment is more important than our love? It kind of sounds like it. This passage of scripture is hard to read. And to be honest, I have spent the week searching for the release valve. The place where Jesus softens his tone or gives us an out. But it's not there. It says what it says. But before you either, one, dismiss this passage and ignore it, or two, call your family members and tell them they're going to hell, let's consider some context first. It comes in this section of Matthew's gospel where Jesus is giving instructions to the disciples to go share the gospel of God's love, to preach and teach the word of God. And he's warning them that it's not going to be comfortable for everyone. That his message may not be warmly received by all. It's going to ruffle some feathers. Some will be resistant. Because Jesus' message challenges the status quo. It confronts the power structures of the institutional religion of the day. And it requires something of people. It means sacrifice and effort. This way of Jesus is different from the civic religion of the society. These beliefs and practices most people did because that's what their family taught them to do. More than a personal and authentic expression of faith. And so not everyone is going to be receptive. It may mean they have to break from their family, from what they've been taught, or break from what everyone else is doing because it's just what everyone does. He's disrupting them. And a holy disruption. Instead of trying to intentionally create tension and division in families, I think Jesus may be preparing the disciples to the fact that some people may be resistant to their message because they don't want to go against their family and cultural norms. Because the bottom line is that the way of Jesus is more than a lukewarm commitment of convenience. It's a lifelong vow that changes everything about one's life. And we must be willing to follow. It may be choosing a path different from your family and the most sacred relationships, but it doesn't have to be one of division and tension, especially to tell them they're going to hell. It just may mean sacrifices that aren't always comfortable and easy. Over the past couple of weeks, I've been reflecting on my own personal journey of faith and my commitment. This time of my life was prompted by the reflection. This time of reflection was prompted by our youth going to Ozark Mission Project a couple of weeks ago. They attended a camp called Shoal Creek outside Paris, Arkansas. This was the first place I attended OMP when I was a kid, back in 1988. And so it got me thinking about this experience. See, OMP is a unique experience of service work and worship. Each day the campers go out into the community to work on people's homes. They do minor construction projects like wheelchair ramps and steps and porches, or maybe they paint a house or do yard work. And for the people receiving the service, it is a great gift. And sometimes it's transformational. And for the youth doing the work, it can be life-changing. Not only are you learning skills of that kind of work, but you get an up-close view of things like poverty and struggles that you wouldn't see otherwise. And so it teaches empathy and compassion. And then each night you have to have the chance to reflect on how God is moving through you and that divine call to live these lives of service and compassion. It is a transformational experience. And the first time I experienced all of this, I had just finished the eighth grade. And I didn't understand it all, but somehow I knew in my bones it was reordering my life. I had grown up going to church every week, learning in Sunday school, singing in the children's choir. I had been baptized and gone through confirmation. But that week something shifted in me. Like all that stuff I had grown up doing started coming together to make sense in a new way. And the commitment to this way of life became my own. I was starting to see this faith journey as mine. In a way, I was breaking away from my mother, my sister, my father, and my grandparents. Not in a conflictual break filled with tension. But because I was now taking responsibility for my faith commitment myself. Not just because my family and my church had told me to. At the end of that week at camp, the leaders gave us all business cards. I mean, it was the 80s, so business cards were all the rage. But this card had a cross and flame on it, and it said, I, and then there was a blank where you were supposed to sign your name. I, David C. Freeman, committed to living in the light at Ozark Mission Project Summer 1988. Living in the light was the theme that week. And so I took that card and I signed my name on that business card in my best eighth-grade cursive, which is strangely better than my 52-year-old cursive. And I put that card in my wallet and I carried it with me everywhere. And every time I see it, it reminds me of what I committed to and how following Christ is my own responsibility. No one's going to do it for me. It's my commitment. I carried that card in my wallet for almost 35 years. A few years ago, I realized it was becoming really fragile, and so I took it out and I put it in a frame. And it now sits on a bookshelf in my office, still reminding me of my personal commitment of faith to live in the light. And I'm not saying that I've always lived that commitment perfectly or even adequately, but it's been my commitment. Not my parents, my family, or my friends. I know. Maybe that's a stretch. Maybe I'm reaching here and trying to soften this passage, but in a way I see this as a reminder that my love of Christ is even greater than my relationship with my parents and family as much as I love them. And it's a commitment beyond the faith that was given to me as a child. I wonder what your story is. Maybe you had a similar experience of a moment or a season that your personal commitment of faith came to life. Or maybe it came through struggle and a season of pain. Maybe you literally had to break from your family to discover a faith that was authentically yours. Your family wasn't a church-going family and you found it on your own. Or maybe your family had a more rigid faith, and you had to leave that behind to find an understanding of God that wasn't filled with fear and trembling. Or maybe you're still searching for that journey. Trying to find that understanding and personal commitment that is uniquely and authentically yours. Whatever the story is. I want to hear it. I hope you'll share it with me and with others. In your bulletin by the sermon, there is a QR code, and if you scan that code, it will take you to our site where you can write your faith story. I hope you'll take some time today or this week to go there and share your story. I'd be so honored to receive it. And if you think you don't know that story yet, share that too. Share your questions and how we might support you in this. Not because I want to make sure that you're all gonna make it to heaven. And I'm not trying to strong arm you into it. But because part of living in the light means getting to share this beautiful, joyful life of faith together. Will you pray with me? Oh God, you know us and love us individually and intimately, just as you hold the whole universe in your hands. And in this story of our lives is a story of our faith. Our searching, our commitment, our stumbling, and our recommitment of you. And all of it. May we see your love coming to life. And may we make our lives a commitment to sharing that love and making it incarnate for all. Amen.