Free For All
On this Memorial Day weekend we commemorate the memory of our honored dead. Webster's Dictionary describes the word in the following way:
Memorial =
"something that keeps remembrance alive".
Memorial Day (or Decoration Day as it was formerly called) is a patriotic day to honor American Soldiers who have given their lives for their country. In the church we honor those saints who have passed on to glory in their Lord. It is a legal holiday in most states. Flowers and flags are placed on graves of soldiers. Many organizations march in military parades and take part in special programs. Memorial Day originated during the Civil War.
The story is told of a young boy named Alex who was staring at the flags representing the branches of our military in the narthex of the church. The pastor came along and stood by the boy for a few minutes. After a period of silence, the boy asked the pastor what the flags represented. The pastor replied, “Well, Alex, these flags are in memory of the men and women who died in the service.” The little boy tensed up for a moment, and fearfully asked, “In which service did they die—the 9:00 or 10:45?”A short time ago, we as a nation witnessed our first state funeral in many years as Ronald Reagan, our 40th president, was laid to rest. During his funeral in the National Cathedral, Justice Sandra Day O'Connor read these words, which Newsweek set on images from the day: "We must delight in each other; make others' conditions our own; rejoice together, mourn together, labor and suffer together, always having before our eyes our commission and community in the work, as members of the same body. For we must consider that we shall be as a city upon a hill. Thee eyes of all people are upon us."These words were first spoken by John Winthrop, governor of the Massachusetts Bay Colony in 1630, in his famous A Model of Christian Charity. The colonists that Winthrop addressed had fled persecution in England. He was reminding them that they had made a covenant with God. They knew were being watched; they knew they were attempting something never done before; they knew it could only be done with God working through them.
It's interesting that President Reagan chose these words for his funeral. They were originally spoken before the separation of church and state in this land. Winthrop intended them for the Christian community. They were members of the same body, the body of Christ. That community's single purpose was to be a city upon a hill; that community's single purpose was to bring glory to God. And the world was watching. Winthrop's words have been true of our nation in the past, but they must be true of the Christian church today.
Let Your Light ShineWinthrop drew the inspiration for his words from Jesus' words in the Sermon on the Mount. In the verses that follow Jesus talks about being light. Jesus says in Matthew 5:14-16,
14 "You are the light of the world. A city on a hill cannot be hidden. 15 Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl. Instead they put it on its stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house. 16 In the same way, let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven.Because light is so readily available to us through the simple flip of a switch, we take it for granted. But it wasn't so in Jesus' day. Light had to be carefully protected. It made no sense to take the light of a simple lamp and hide it under a basket. Light was too valuable, too important. Jesus tells his followers that they are the light of the world. They are like a city set on a hill that can't be hidden. As John Winthrop reminds us, as Jesus-followers we're being watched. To know one is being watched raises the stakes; it increases a sense of duty to live one's life with integrity.
I remember in the first church I served as a Youth Pastor preparing to preach my first sermon. I was the rookie. My pastoral colleague, Jack, knew the perfectionistic pressure I put on myself. One of the traditions at that church was for the preacher to kneel on the chancel near the large pulpit during the hymn before the sermon. Because it was my first sermon I definitely felt the desperate need to pray. It was a very special time. Jack, knowing how nervous I was, came up behind me while I was kneeling. He put his hands supportively on my shoulders. Jack leaned down and whispered in my ear: "Don't mess it up." I'm sure the congregation wondered why I had such a big smile on my face when I started preaching that morning. When we know that we're a city on a hill, that we're being watched, there's certainly a sense of responsibility that we feel not to mess up, to live lives of character because of who we represent.But even more importantly, being a city on a hill means that as Jesus-followers we're to get engaged and involved with our world, to make a difference, to shine a light in the darkness. Jesus says, “let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven.” Shining the light of Christ means doing the good work of Christ in the world. But we must not miss the motivation . . . we're to let our lights shine; we're to do good deeds, so that God will be glorified.
For John Winthrop and the early puritans, it wasn't about success or failure as a church; it was about the glory of God. We shine our light not so that people will look at our church and say, "Wow, what a remarkable church. Look at what they've done." No, we seek to allow God's light to shine through us so that people will say, "Wow, what a remarkable God -- look at what God has done!"Let Your Light Shine as a ChurchWhat might it mean for us as Christ First to shine in this world for God's glory? Because this question is so important, let’s survey for a moment a number of things. Crucial points will ultimately be made.
Perhaps there's nothing Americans hold dearer than freedom, than liberty. And the first freedom in our bill of rights is the freedom to exercise religion, whatever religion one chooses. What does freedom of religion mean? On a bronze plaque at the base of the Statue of Liberty are these words: "Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, The wretched refuse of your teeming shore, Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me, I lift my lamp beside the golden door!" We notice once again the image of a light shining in the darkness. These words strike us with what it means to let our lights shine. As much as these words have been true for our nation in the past, they must be true for the church today.
As a church we're free, free to throw open our doors, to let God's light shine, to welcome and to serve the tired, the poor, the huddled, the wretched, the homeless, the tempest-tossed. We are free to welcome and to serve everyone, no matter who they are, no matter what their race or creed or color . . . everyone . . . everyone.
Not long ago an article in Christianity Today talked about the state of Christianity in India. By all accounts, God's at work in India, the church is growing, and there's talk of revival. And yet, seldom has the church been as persecuted as it is today, especially in rural parts of India. A number of Indian states have passed laws that are called "freedom of religion" bills: what they mean is that only Hinduism is free to practice religion. In those states both Christianity and Islam are under heavy persecution. Is that what freedom of religion means to us? Brian McLaren tells a wonderful story about his church in Baltimore. In the aftermath of 9/11 it was a difficult time to be Islamic in America. The local mosque in Baltimore had received numerous angry threats. Brian decided to drive over to the mosque to see if there was anything he could do. When he drove up he noticed the mosque was in the process of setting up a chain link fence around their property. As Brian walked onto the property the local cleric, or imam, tried to shoo him away. But Brian assured him that he only wanted to help. He and his church tried to reach out in friendship. One of the things the Islamic women were most afraid of was going shopping in public after 9/11. So the women of Brian's church gave the Islamic women their cell phone numbers and offered to go shopping with them, to help remove the burden of fear.Part of what it means to let our light shine as Jesus-followers is to break down walls and tear down fences so that others might enjoy the freedom we do. To let our light shine as a community is to reach out in compassion and servanthood to everyone, even those who might never believe.
We must not be mistaken. As a Christian church we believe that there are two kinds of freedom. There is the freedom to practice one's religion that is at the bedrock of our nation's constitution. But we also believe in the freedom that comes from a personal relationship with Jesus Christ. We believe that nothing compares to the freedom from guilt, from brokenness, from sin, from hopelessness and despair that we experience as followers of Christ.
But to shine a light in our world means that we will serve others no matter who they are and give them the freedom not to believe what is so dear to us. To let our light shine means reaching beyond these walls. To let our light shine—to give God the glory—is why we open our facilities seven days a week to several groups and ministries: Chinese church, preschool, Cody’s courtyard, women’s bible study fellowship, al anon, regional board meetings, harvest festivals, music camp and vacation bible school. To let our light shine, to give glory to God, is why we're sold out for kids, youth, and adults. People of God, freedom of religion means freedom to let our light shine, freedom to serve everyone in the name of Christ.
Let Your Light Shine as Jesus-followersAnd so, letting our light shine is something we believe God has called to do as a church. But it's also something God calls us to do as individual Jesus-followers. And again, the primary purpose isn't so that others will see our light and our good deeds, but so that through us they will be drawn to give glory to God.
Many children, youth, and adults have been baptized recently. They come from different faith experiences, but they all witness to the fact that Jesus Christ is Lord of their lives. In essence, we are saying to them the very words of Jesus, "Let your light shine before all people so that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven." Those who follow Christ have the privilege and the calling to let Christ's light shine through us. The difference God can make through just one light is amazing.
I'd like to end this message by sharing a story I read in Sports Illustrated. Now I know some of you think that all I read is magazines like SI but that simply isn't true. But I was profoundly moved by Gary Smith's article called Higher Education. I’m going to read the condensed version written by Pastor Dan Brunner in order to do the story justice.The story took place in Berlin, Ohio, a small, sleepy town in the heart of the largest Amish settlement in the world. If you weren't Amish in that part of the world you were Mennonite. The story began with Charlie, a coach who completely turned around the basketball program at tiny Hiland High. Basketball was everything in Berlin and Charlie was the best coach in three states. But just before the 1984 season, Charlie quit. His assistant took his place, a man named Perry Reese, Jr. Perry, known simply as coach, was unmarried and Catholic and black, the only black man in that county. The town folk didn't know what to do with him, though, for some reason, the players really liked him. But the town wasn't sure. The landlord, who'd agreed over the phone to a lease, saw the man's skin and suddenly remembered that he only rented to families. Cars drove slowly by his house shouting threats in the darkness. Rumors began to spread, like he'd been sent by the feds to keep an eye on the Amish or that he was part of a conspiracy to bring blacks into the county. But coach wasn't going anywhere and slowly, through his straightforwardness, he began to win them over. And it didn't hurt that the Hiland Hawks were cleaning clocks on the basketball court. The winning bought him time.He survived one bad season, when they started calling for his job, but never had a losing season again. Coach ran his runnin', gunnin' offense and full-court pressure defense from buzzer to buzzer and he did it all with an annual litter of runts, of spindly, short, close-cropped Mennonites. Their tiny gym was likened to a telephone booth with hoops. The games sold out year after year with fans jammed in shoulder to shoulder. Even some Amish boys and men came, Lord save their souls, tying up their horses and buggies and slinking into the gym. And when they couldn't come, they'd listen on the radio stashed in the hay of their barns.And slowly the people had reality dawn on them: this black man's values were the same as theirs. Coach was humble. Coach was unselfish; most of his salary somehow made its way into the kids’ hands. Coach was reverent; no church ever prayed the Lord's Prayer with the energy his team did both before and after each game. Coach loved family; when Chester Mullet, star guard only hugged his mom on parent's night, coach told him to give her a kiss or be benched. Coach's work ethic was off the charts. Here was this black man; he out-Amished the Amish, he out-Mennonited the Mennonites.Somehow coach had a way of bringing the whole community together. One of his best friends was Willie. When Willie's dad died, coach was right there, kneeling beside the coffin, crossing himself, putting his arm around Willie's mom -- she's Amish and she never forgot it. Parents, who swore their sons would never be coached by a black man, saw the difference he made in kids lives and proudly let their boys become Hawks.But about seven years into his coaching, their community was rocked when someone broke into the hardware store and stole some merchandise. Rumors pointed to six boys on the basketball team; the boys denied it and coach defended them. You see, coach was more than their coach. His home was their home. Parents trusted him completely. He took the boys to tiny Amish schoolhouses to read and shoot hoops with wide-eyed kids who'd never get to see them play. Coach took them to each other's churches, and even to his own church, St. Peter's in Millersburg. Coach introduced them to Malcolm X, five-alarm chili, Martin Luther King, Jr., BB King, and Cajun wings. Mostly, coach taught them that their lives were filled with possibility; he was often the lone voice telling the boys to go places, get a degree, reach out, and take chances. And more and more they did just that -- thanks to coach.But now coach was looking one of the boys straight in the eye, "Kevin, tell me the truth about the hardware store." "I did it, coach. We did it. I don't why." The community gasped. How could this happen? Coach resigned. He took responsibility for his "sons." The administration begged him to stay. After much thinking, coach came up with a solution. He'd let the boys back onto the team. First, they'd spend two weeks in a detention center to know what jail was like. Staring at cinder block walls they were as lonely as a Mennonite could be. But coach came each day, making his rounds to all six boys. At the first pep rally, Kevin walked to the microphone to make a public apology to the school and the town. Randy, the ring-leader, had to live under coach's roof for four months.Redemption didn't come easy for those boys, but in the process the whole team became closer than ever before. And man, could they play basketball. Ultimately it was that team that won the only state championship Hiland would win under coach, even coming back from a 7-point deficit with 38 seconds left in the semi-finals. They figured coach would take a higher profile position somewhere else, but he stayed; for ten more years he coached at Hiland, pouring his life into his boys, into his students, into that community.And then late one night, two of coach's best friends found him shivering at home in a blanket, glassy-eyed, mumbling nonsense. Their worst fears were realized. Coach had a brain tumor. Malignant. Inoperable. Four to eight months to live. Players wouldn't leave his bedside. Former players dropped whatever they were doing and flew back or drove six hours. The whole hospital became a waiting room. A thousand people attended a prayer vigil in the gym, begging for a miracle, demanding a miracle. Steroids shrank the swelling so coach could go home.Peg Brand had divided the whole community into six-hour shifts, 24-hours a day. When coach found out he sobbed. His days of giving were over -- all he could do now was receive. Coach knew it was his time. He initiated a scholarship fund and started it rolling with his $30,000 life savings. On November 22nd, 17 years after he'd walked through the doors, coach died. Hiland High went into shock. Six pastors and three counselors roamed the halls, ministering to kids huddled in hallways, to teachers sobbing in bathrooms, to secretaries who just couldn't bear it.And what was changed because of coach? The scholarship fund began to swell. But there was bigger stuff. Kevin Troyer decided that rather than teach and coach around Berlin he would teach and coach with black kids in Canton, where coach was from. Five white families adopted between them ten black children. And everywhere people went they would ask the question, "What would coach do?" And they'd do it.At the funeral, just before communion, Father Ron Aubry gazed across St. Peter's Catholic Church. He knew he could get in real trouble, but he also knew coach, and so he did it. He invited everyone to come to communion. The Mennonites looked at each other, uncertain what to do. Willie said, "What would coach do?"Author, Gary Smith, ends his story with these words, "So they rose and joined all the black Baptists and white Catholics pouring toward the altar, all the basketball players, all the Mennonites young and old. Busting laws left and right, busting straight into the kingdom of heaven."That's what can happen when one man let his light shine!
When the church welcomes and serves the tired, the poor, the huddled, the wretched, the homeless, the tempest-tossed, our light shines and God is glorified. When the church tears down walls and fences that keep us needlessly divided, our light shines and God is glorified. When the church gathers for Holy Communion in unity and in love, our light shines and God is glorified. Communion keeps our remembrance of Christ alive! Amen.


