“Founded on Rock”
Scripture Lesson: Matthew 7: 15-29
Dr. Matthew Brown
Ordination
services; Installation Services; Community Thanksgiving Services; Presbytery
worship services; Lenten Prayer Breakfasts. It is worship
in a broader context. Breaking from the
weekly routine/structure of Sunday morning worship, a community gathers
together to offer worship to God. It is
a different kind of community. The
gathering place may be different. The
order of worship is different. Different
faces sit in your familiar pew spaces.
And instead of one preacher there may be five or six or more. And there is your potential problem.
It is said that when two or
three people gather together, God is in the midst of them. It could also be said that when three or four
preachers gather together to lead a worship service, God is either laughing or
shaking his head at their comedy of errors.
Each preacher thinks he or she should be in charge, nobody is in charge,
and there is always the potential that the congregation will leave saying, “I
went to a worship service and a circus broke out.”
Each year in Morganton, we
would host a joint worship service at our church, bringing together the three
Presbyterian Churches. By the grace of
God’s Holy Spirit, it was truly a celebration of worship. But, usually, behind the scenes there was no
small amount of confusion, bordering on chaos.
It is one of those services
that has a life of its own and I would do my best to play my part and not get
in the way of the Spirit or Flemon McIntosh, a
wonderful, larger than life figure, a former football player from Johnson C.
Smith, a man whose presence and spirit have had a profound impact on that
community. Well, traditionally Rev. Mac
would hand out the worship assignments each year, and generally, apart from the
one preaching, we were not sure who would be doing what until worship was about
to begin and sometimes later.
Last year, the joint service
was progressing smoothly. An energetic
children’s sermon had been offered, highlights
from the life of the three churches had been shared, prayers had been lifted up
by and for the people of God, and I settled in my seat over in the choir loft
to hear what word Mac would offer from the pulpit. Except, Mac didn’t move. In fact, nobody moved and the silence
indicated that someone was blowing their assignment.
Well, someone tapped me on my
shoulder just as I looked down at the bulletin, and I was horrified to see my
name listed by the scripture reading.
Quoting the renowned philosopher Homer ... Simpson I said something
like, “Doh!” and in panic looked for a pew bible as I
moved toward the lecturn, not
having carried mine to the sanctuary.
Presbyterians have never been real good about carrying their bibles to
the sanctuary.
And wouldn’t you know it, the
lesson for the day was not from Genesis, or Matthew or Revelation, no that day
it had to be from Ecclesiastes. So,
while trying to convey a spirit of calm assurance, I started singing to myself,
“Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers, Deuteronomy...”
At the same time I realized
that this Bible I had pilfered from the choir loft had not been opened in
awhile, if ever (I can’t imagine I’d experience that phenomenon here!) and so
the pages were sticking together like they will with a brand new book.
Now, I’m not the most
sophisticated guy in the world, but I do know that it’s not polite to lick your
fingers in front of the congregation.
So, while my mind was pondering the tragedy of an unopened Bible, my dry
fingers were wrestling with those stubborn pages and I’m singing my little
song, “Psalms and Proverbs, ECCLESIASTES!”
I cannot tell you if I was
successful in masking the panic in my voice as I uttered the refrain, “Open
your hearts and hear the Word of the Lord.”
Open my heart? I was having a hard enough time opening the
pages.
It sorta
put a different spin on the idea of God’s unblemished word. The pristine pages of that untouched twenty
year old book have come to seem metaphorical to me. How much of the life of faith remained
unopened for me, for you? Beneath the
Sunday morning smiles, does the soul mirror expose the superficial nature of
our faith? Beyond a weekly recitation of
the Lord’s prayer, what does your faith mean to
you?
Think of the pattern of your
days. What is your routine? You set the alarm for a particular time and
have a schedule of specific habits and rituals that are regularly enacted
before you push the button to close the garage door as you back out of the
driveway. Exercise or snooze button? A favorite shampoo or the
cheapest on the shelf? Conditioner and blow dryer or razor? Starched, pressed, and coordinated or the
first clothing your hand reaches in the closet?
Straightening up the room or rummaging through the mess to find the document
you need? Walk the dog or read the
paper? Headlines,
Sports Page, or Comics? Is it
Raisin Bran, Oatmeal, bagel, muffin, or Count Chocula? Is it juice or coffee? Do you wake the kids with a gentle touch on
the shoulder or with a trumpet blast? Is
there morning cooperation or are voices usually raised before you get them to
the door? Crest or
Colgate? Today,
CNN, Sportscenter, or Bugs Bunny?
Think about it. You’ve established a routine that involves a
hundred concious choices before you even leave the
house in the morning, and the choices, habits, and routines continue throughout
the day.
How many times do you check
your e-mail during a normal day? Do you
take your lunch, make your lunch, or buy your lunch? When he graduated from college, a good friend
of mine confesses that his big desire was to get a job in a tall building in a
big city where he could go out to lunch every day. After one month in
Think about it. You have a routine way of planning your work
for the day, of responding to calls and correspondence, of walking through your
calendar. You listen to certain radio
stations, or pull out particular CD’s for the morning and evening commutes.
But tell me, where does the Creator, Sustainer, and Redeemer of all of life fit
into this?
Do we believe in God? Well, yes.
Do we believe that Christ is the savior of sinners? Yes, sure, sign us up.
But upon what are our lives built?
Listen to Craig Dykstra’s
description of a friend, “I never thought I’d be living this way,” she
says. “Somehow I imagined that life
would be simpler.” “She has reached
forty, and she thinks she sould have her life
together by now, but things are just not right. Too few evening include nourishing suppers
shared with loved ones; too many are given over to the demands of paid work or
house work, or lost to worry and exhaustion. Her closest friends are spread across several
time zones. The old neighbors she
entrusted with the house key are gone, and she barely knows the new ones. She finds community here and there, and she
volunteers to help out as she can, but she is wary about getting too
involved. Showing up at a
Dykstra says, “The sighs of
this woman and so many of us today come only in part from having too much to
do. Even more, these sighs are born of
our yearning to understand what the too-much-to-do adds up to. We long to see our lives whole and to know
that they matter. We wonder whether our
many activities might ever come together in a way of life that is good for
ourselves and others.”
In other words, do all our
routines add up to a purpose? What
meaning is contained in the habits of our days?
Upon what foundation is your life, my life built?
In our scripture today, Jesus
is concluding what has come to be known as the Sermon on the mount. In this important section of Jesus’ teachings
in the gospel of Matthew, Jesus has, among other things, encouraged believers
to let their light shine so that people might see our good works and give glory
to God; he has challenged believers to keep and teach the commandments; to deal
with anger and to resolve conflict; to act with fidelity in relationships; to
act in generous and loving ways - even toward our enemies; to give offerings
and pray in secret; to forgive; to refrain from judgment. These are the outward symptoms of a God
grounded life.
And thus he concludes with
this image. Everyone who hears these
words of mine and acts on them will be like a wise man who built his house on
rock. The rain fell, the floods came,
and the winds blew and beat on that house, but it did not fall, because it had
been founded on rock. And everyone who
hears these words of mine and does not act on them will be like a foolish man
who built his house on sand. The rain
fell, and the floods came, and the winds blew and beat against that house, and
it fell - and great was its fall!”
What is the foundation upon
which our lives are built? Our building
committee has been interviewing prospective contractors this week and when
asked what would be important to the completion of a good project, they invariably
spoke about the building of the foundation, the erection of the skeletal
structure. You or I may pay more
attention to the finish details. We’d
want to argue about carpet colors, but what is crucial to a building is a good
foundation.
Upon what foundation are the
routines of our lives enacted? The truth
is that the routines of our lives will be upset. The rains will come, the floods will rise, the winds will blow.
What will sustain us?
I look at the schedule, the
routines of my days and I wonder about the superficiality of my faith.
So often, our identities are
wrapped up in how busy we are. And while
there is nothing intrinsicly wrong with being
busy. Does our busy-ness have any
meaning, any purpose? What will sustain
us when life interrupts our routine?
Occasionally, when I’m paying
more attention to the calendar than the unopened scripture in front of me, I’ll
get a call from my friend Bob.
Bob served faithfully and well as a pastor for
over thirty five years. His proclamation
of God’s word had a profound impact on the direction of my life. He was as busy as any of us. He had as many meetings as any of us. But that busy-ness did not define him. His house was built on the rock of prayer and
reading and caring and compassion and thinking deeply and loving fully. In other words, his life was built on the
rock of faith, reflecting the character of Jesus. And so when the storms arrived, the house
stood firm.
Eye disease took away the
sight of this voracious reader; arthritis has tremendously slowed this avid outdoorsman;
always a great listener, his hearing has deteriorated; a ravaging disease has
inflicted his son. But still, Bob calls
me. Bob pastors to me, and I am
strengthened and nurtured by the sound of his voice and his genuine, loving
care.
I don’t know about you but a
hangnail can darken a sunny day for me, and here is this man, his world
literally darkened, his back screaming with daily pain, his son facing the
fragility of life, and he is calling and calming me. What is it about him? “The rain fell, the floods came, and the
winds blew and beat on that house, but it did not fall, because it had been
founded on rock.”
Amen.
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