Flip The Baby

We don’t know much about the Christs…
Not the Christ but the ChristS, you know… Plural. The Smiths, the Neills, the Blacks… The Christs…we don’t know much about them. I don’t even really know their last name… hence Mary and Joseph Christ. You know… Jesus Christ’s parents…Mary and Joesph Christ. Of the Nazereth Christs. Or maybe back then the culture was to go around with one name… like Cher… or Madonna.

Regardless the bible doesn’t tell us much about them. Sure it tells us they’re Jewish… Very Jewish… Bloodlines back to Adam… but … so am I. It tells us that Joseph was a little chagrinned at the Holy Spirit for getting to his wife before he did. Possibly 9 months of chagrin. The bible doesn’t tell us of Mary’s gravitation towards blue clothing, or tell us when both Mary and Joseph developed the golden saucer type light that encircled their heads. Mathew doesn’t write down the astonishment of two very Jewish, Middle Eastern parents at the delivery of a blue eyed baby. There is a lot we don’t know about the Christ family.

We just know that for a good amount of time they were in charge of Jesus. He was their little baby boy. And since before he was born this kid was steeped in controversy. #1 you can’t imagine what effort it takes to convince your entire synagogue that you’re still virgin. Zechariah, Mary’s cousin’s husband, the high priest could have vouched for her that God was up to something however he had been struck mute by the very angel that Mary had seen.

And wouldn’t you know… Its Tax Season. Joseph, with the nine months under his belt of married chagrin, has to up an move to Bethlehem for the census. Now this isn’t really the baby’s fault… its more his bloodline’s fault as a descendant of David, and possibly the prophets fault for needing something to be fulfilled. But regardless lugging a very pregnant mother across country is probably not the honeymoon Mary and Joseph Christ were dreaming of.

It was as if a wake of chaos was following this baby. The Owner of the stable outside the very popular Bethlehem Inn had to pay for chiropractic work on some of his prize “lowing” cattle, due to them not having a feeding trough for several weeks. And once the Christ Family actually found a house in Bethlehem, well here come 3 kings from a place in the Orient called Ahr. They were a nice group, don’t get me wrong, they threw Mary a shower. She might have been a little pissed at Baltizaar for giving the Myrrh instead of the diaper Genie that she had registered for. But sure enough, Joseph’s dream of settling down in the City of David, was interrupted by a warning to get out of town. Turns out these Ahrians were the catalysts to starting a mass genocide killing spree on all of Bethlehem’s children two years and younger. So “for the sake of the baby” the Christ Family fled to Egypt.

I’m sure it wasn’t easy to raise “God Incarnate.” Joseph and Mary must have been looking over their shoulders as they did that “new parent thing.” I’m sure they realized the gravity of the situation. But I can’t imagine they realized the gravity of the situation. There he was, the savior of the world. The Fabled king… the Messiah. And there they were two parents trying their hardest to raise a baby who they loved.


Two weeks ago I got to meet the newest edition to my family. Little Kathleen Alexandra Liddell. My family was together for Thanksgiving and I finally got to see my sister, my brother in law and their four month baby girl (they live in San Diego). It was fun to see them. Little Katy was totally cute, and was the age that she kind of was like a stuffed animal with eyes. She sat quietly in the chair, swing, or being held by someone just taking it all in. Her eyes seemed to have magical powers. When they focused on somebody, that person would somehow turn into a fool. Either making a face, or talking in a strange cartoon type tone. Normal conversations about politics would be interrupted with an over emphasized “THAT’S RIGHT…THAT’S RIGHT” a weird face and a farting noise, and then resumed as if nothing had happened. My sister and brother in law were proud. You could tell they loved their baby very much. They would do anything for her.

There were some others that came to thanksgiving too. Galen was my roommate in college. He and I had a great time starting our fraternity. We hung out in Ireland this last August. My mom calls him her favorite Asian son, and Galen seems to have special powers as well. Whenever Galen is around somehow people tend to line up and tell him that they have problems with their knee, or arthritis in their hands, or that they can only bend their elbow this far. He patiently listens to our dehabilitations and calmly tells us what exercises to do, or what “the real problem” is. You see, Galen is a Physical Therapist. And this was his first time meeting baby Katy as well.

It was interesting watching them size up each other; Katy, being the first born daughter of the Liddell’s, and Galen being a physical therapist. Galen seemed unaffected when the baby cried. When Katy was in my arms and she began to fuss, I immediately outstretched her towards my sister with a look on my face as if I had broken the child. Galen didn’t act the same as everybody in the house. We all seemed to be enchanted by Katy, but Galen seemed to study her. Not coldly like an experiment, but warmly like his job asks. His PT specialty is in Pediatrics. So even though he is equipped to deal with my family’s ailments, his job is to work with kids.

As the night progressed, I witnessed a light bulb go off in Galen’s head. He cooed at Katy as she was playing on the matt with the dangleys above her. He picked her up and put her back down, face down… not in a malicious way. But more as if he needed to see something. As if he was a scientist who just poured chemical a and b into test tube c. She seemed a little shocked, but not by the flip, just that someone would have the audacity to put her on her stomach. Within 30 seconds she began to cry. Not a cry of “I’m in pain” or “help me mother” but more a cry of “this really pissed me off.” Galen allowed her to stay there and cry for another 20 seconds before picking her up. Where he gently said, “I know… I know… you didn’t like that at all… That really pissed you off… I know.” But he made no movements to give her back to my sister. It was as if he was superman and Baby Katy’s bullets simply bounced off and lodged into the pottery on the shelf.
I don’t know what it was about this moment that seemed so poignant. Life has all of its twists and turns and experiments but this seemed larger then most of them. I knew what he was doing. He was giving Katy tummy time; which helps with development.

As I studied it: Having babies sleep on their backs has successfully reduced the rate of SIDS, but has also been accompanied by reports of an increase in the number of babies diagnosed with flattening of the back of the head. Katy, because of her life of laying around, swinging, and laying on the mat, gave her a propensity to look to the right which was beginning to do some “flattening of the head” on the right side.

The most common time to see head flattening according to University of Auckland Brigham Young University was age 4 months. No new cases began after 8 months of age. Overall, about 90 percent of the head shape problems disappeared on their own by age 2. The more hours that babies spent flat on their backs, the more likely they were to have head flattening. Even 5 minutes a day of tummy time had a protective effect. The back is great for sleeping, but other positions are wonderful for when babies are awake. One Doctor prefers at least 30 minutes total of tummy time each day once the cord has fallen off.

Now I know what you’re thinking… Geoff, we’re in church… this is not Babies 101. I know you think you’re niece is cute but, please, spare us. No.

I feel this very simple action of flipping the baby is extremely important. My sister and Brother in law love my niece very much. They would do anything for her. Yet their love of the very thing they would do anything for blinded them to the things they need to do. Their baby needs to adapt. It needs to grow. It needs to be flipped. Their baby needs to live within the tension of living life. And as parents, it’s their job to do one of the hardest things a parent can do. Facilitate the growth of their child.

And you’re saying to yourself… Geoff… I don’t have a four month old, Geoff I don’t have kids… or Geoff what does this have to do with anything? Before you simply think that my sister is an unfit mother, think to yourself what you’ve done to facilitate the growth of your baby. We all have them. It’s the very thing that drives you. It was the motivation that was behind Mary and Joseph moving to Egypt. Sure they wanted to preserve the life of their child. But it was something more beautiful than that; something that was mapped into their DNA that allowed them to protect that kid with their life; something that allowed them to weather the stream of chaos that came with having their particular child.

What are your hopes? What are your dreams? What are your loves? What gets you up in the morning? What is your baby? It’s right there in front of you, and some of you are so happy with the idea of your baby that you are blind to the fact that it’s getting flat. Is there something that you love, about yourself, or someone else, or a dream you have that in long overdue to be flipped over. Is your love of that baby co-dependence? Meaning you are so wrapped up in the crying and struggle that happens when we grow, that you would easily forsake it for a flathead.


God asks us to flip the baby. Is your life filled with fires, and when you have a moment to breathe, you just do nothing, and as a result you never get to the place you want. FLIP THE BABY, and prioritize the things that you want to do and stick to them. Are you repeating the same actions over and over and expecting different results. FLIP THE BABY, and take another route. Are you teetering on the edge of faith and afraid to move any closer because you don’t want to be one of “them.” FLIP THE BABY and know that God wants you to be more you than you can be without Him.

In your life you are going to be asked to flip the baby. The thing you love most will cry and be uncomfortable and you have to be the cause. My sister and Brother in law have two choices, give the kid tummy-time or get surgery on a flat head. God places us in opportunities where we have the choice to grow or stay flat. The growth causes crying, pain, and adaptation. Not easy… but necessary. God at one point even asked it of His son Jesus.

I still marvel at the balls Joseph and Mary had at the possibility of giving God incarnate “Tummy-time.” As Mary’s hands shook as she flipped the baby, she might have expected a bolt of lighting, or possibly an odd harp music playing as Jesus floated back onto his back. But more than likely all she saw was Jesus struggling to get upright, and eventually get pissed off and cry. Jesus himself had to grow, learn to crawl, learn to talk, learn to finally love and flip the baby himself. One night in Gethsemane, Jesus knew what was ahead of him. The Cross. And three times he asked to have his destiny removed. Only to hear a silent response. Knowing his love of God and his love for humanity he saw what needed to be flipped in order for growth to happen. Himself. “God, Thy will be done.” And three days later, after oceans of pain, days of crying, and thoughts of hopelessness. Christ emerged in glory. He flipped the baby to reconcile humanity to God, He flipped the baby to underline the fact of a loving God for us, He flipped the baby to give us inspiration for our own growth and struggle with life.

God wants you to know that you are loved today. So much that there was a huge struggle in order to bring you close. He came that we may live, love and be in him, As you go out today, ask yourself, what has stopped you from growing what you love? Because perhaps you need to flip it.

My Achy Breaky Heart

It was a cold morning. I got in my car with no heat. I was so cold. Was it me that was so cold, or did I feel something more? I was cold, like I was doing something wrong, like I was engaging in sin. Like the holy spirit was nowhere near me. Or was I just cold? Because it was November… and I had no heat in my car.

I arrived at my destination. I had my agenda in mind. “You can’t stay too long,” I thought to myself, “or you may regret something. Today Geoff it’s like a band-aid… you got to rip it right off.” We went into the bank, and clinically we signed the documents. We then drove to the courthouse where we dropped them off. As we walked back, the sun shone and I was a little warmer. It was a beautiful fall day. The type of fall day where the sun lights the trees on fire with their colors. Reds and yellows lit our way back to the car. When we got into the car we tried to navigate our feelings of loss, disenchantment, brokenness. But mainly we just kept it light.

My counselor said that I might want to do something symbolic. Something Pomp and circumstancey. So I wrote a poem the night before. I figured what’s more Pomp and circumstancey than reciting a poem.

In the cab of the car I held it together long enough to read this:

Ode to an Unfettered Horse by Geoffrey Neill

Ride Magnificent Ride!
Out goes the tide
as sunset outstretches out towards the night
and you, Magnificent, gallop far and wide to your hopes and dreams to be astride

I am tearful as I see you ride
For I recall when our worlds collide
You came upon my land untied
Escaping that which made you cry

I fell in love Magnificent mine
With your beauty, speed, brilliant design
I brought you in and let you dine
And I think you stayed because I was kind

And for a time this time did shine
And you basked within the morning light
And I cared for you and you did ride
Along my lands once upon a time

But then one morning I peered outside
You left during the night
I built no fence; I thought you liked the grazing lands that you abide
I felt I had to hold on tight to bring you back from your flight
So I took off into the night

And I found you on the mountainside your mane with burrs, but shining bright
Approaching you, stepping light, convincing you to run back to sight
It was hard but you did ride back to the lands that were mine
And we spent that time and that time did shine

But soon your dreams made you pine for other lands that were hard to find
And this dance we danced, times 8 or 9 and I soon saw that I did find
That every time you crossed the line, was a piece of me I could not find
I cried for times you’d reach my side, and you’d come again… and those times did shine

But there comes a time within this life, when the dance is dancing only strife
And the land has been cut with a serrated knife, and you, Magnificent, have no delight
So you lead the dance, and we do the shit(e) and I half-assed follow into the night
And we’re both tired of the same old plight, and here we are: a disillusioned sight

And I see…that we … began to hide
Within what we wanted on the inside
I with a fence, and you outside.
We are compelled today to do what’s right

So I swing my unreal fence aside, any chains from me please cast aside
And on this day, please move with pride into the sunset you always eyed

And so … I sigh.
Ride Magnificent Ride!
Out goes the tide
as sunset outstretches out towards the night
and you, Magnificent, gallop far and wide to your hopes and dreams to be astride

And with that we said some emotional words of encouragement for each other and I dropped her off. I had just got a divorce. And despite the waves of emotion that came upon me that day, the thing was…my heartbreak was that of years previous.

You see I was a Christian. A follower of Christ. Born again. Born into freedom. Connected with the living God. Living the life of a man full of the Holy Spirit. And that label seeped into my being, my soul… I wanted to one day to become a pastor a church. I felt called to the ministry. I loved the idea of doing good. Doing right. Doing the right thing. Having correct morals. Being aligned with the good side… the winning side. I loved it. And what’s not to love. You’re meeting nice people, helping the poor, singing songs, hearing inspiring messages, and most of all at peace with God.

It could be possible that this need to be good might have stemmed from the way I approached my family. I was the Son who took notes on his older sister. Who viewed carefully the mistakes she made. Saw the fits, the fights, and whatever else brought repercussions. I was someone who didn’t want those repercussions. Something in me wanted from the beginning to “live right” but more than that…I think the possible reality was that I wanted to live a “consequence free” life. I wasn’t really into “doing the right thing…” Seriously I could care less. But I was more interested in finding the path of least consequence. I didn’t want to rattle anyone’s cage. I wanted the path that is the best for me. But more importantly, I wanted the path that didn’t have shit attached to it. NO CONSEQUENCES.

And deep down there was absolutely nothing really wrong with that. I believe my heartbreak set in because I began to notice something else. Despite the fact that I had aligned myself with the living God, I had some assumptions that were not necessarily living up to my own expectations. “I was with the good guys now.” “Life should be good.” These were my assumptions. “I’m connected with Jesus now.” “He’s inside me… everything should be smooth sailing.” And unfortunately, as my doorway into Christianity opened into a hallway, I saw that things weren’t always peachy keen.

Oh sure I heard the occasional sermon that talked on “why bad things happened to good people.” I came from normal everyday life so I wasn’t expecting my conversion to all of the sudden right the wrongs of life, and ‘DING’ I would soon be a millionaire pastor that was well known everywhere and who’s shadow creates world peace as it descends upon the places it falls. I wasn’t living in a delusion. But for some reason I did believe that if I aligned myself with “the right way of living” I would move through…Consequence free! My dreams would be fulfilled, and I would have the life of a storybook.

So there I was… A good boy. And there was life. The twisted machine that grinds us all up and spits us out. And in midst of the difficulties that we call life, (which I’m sure to some of you I’m a complete pansy) somehow my theology neglected to tell me to stop smiling and take notice. Stop and take notice at my own heartbreak. My Christianity somehow allowed me to believe that my heartache, should be cured by quickly saying to the wrong doer “I forgive you”. I somehow believed my heartache should be placed to the side along with my self worth. I would think “I am a sinner, so I shouldn’t complain about the scraps I get.”

As difficulties arrived on my doorstep, I loaded them on my back and maintained a smile, because “I was a part of the good guys, and I was going to do the right thing” And as more hardships knocked on my door, I attempted to laugh them off, but somehow they continued to pile up on my back. When my wife left me the first time she told me I had changed. Which was true … “I was much more realistic” and maintained a smile while balancing the ever accumulating “very realistic” heartbreak on my back. And when the shit hit the fan and “She was done.” There… I collapsed on the ground, immobile by the mountains of glazed over, laughed over, very real heartbreak.

I don’t know about you today. Do you have something that is bothering you. Hurting you. Making you feel sub par. Are you an addict? Are you in survival mode? Are you simply stuffing your heartache into your pleasant façade? Do you have a great smile? When someone asks you a hard question do you laugh?

The psalmist writes:
PSALMS 23:4 Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, [a]
I will fear no evil, for you are with me;

I believe this morning that God is with us in our circumstance. He is with us in our heartbreak. Now it could be possible that many of us somehow believe that heartbreak isn’t a part of the plan. But let me tell you. Unfortunately, heartbreak is a part of the plan. The more we begin to extend ourselves in love, (whether it is towards a spouse or someone we don’t even know) the more we up the ante when it comes to possible heartbreak. We completely increase our gambling odds. Now this might make some of you feel as if you would rather step onto the sidelines and let everyone pass by. But unfortunately or fortunately loving others is going to be the greatest of things you do in your life. So fear of heartbreak is actually something that stops us from living.

(I don’t want to champion heartbreak at all, but I do want us to see that this is a church. And not only a church but one with a mission. One to reach out to the Young and Disenfranchised of Portland. To reach the ones who have slipped through the cracks. This is a church of people that have been used as human mortar under the bodyweight of life. So… I hate to brake it to you… but it is more than likely that by you being here, you are dealing or have dealt with a fair amount of heartbreak in your life.)

Oscar Wilde writes that “Hearts are meant to be broken.” But many times we have no clue why our heart is breaking. The only way to understand and move through our own heartbreak is by being quiet and giving the hurt attention. As we heal through taking notice and leaning into the reasoning behind our broken heart, we begin to see that our hearts are meant to break open fully. We are meant to feel anguish, sadness, and mourn the loss of things in our life. To have only joy, happiness, and elation is to only live half the life God has allowed us to live. And to fear the other half of life is to live half your life in fear.

A poem written by Wendell Berry Illustrates what are process should be

I go among trees and sit still.
All my stirring becomes quiet
Around me like circles of water.
My tasks lie in their places
Where I left them, asleep like cattle…

Then what I am afraid of comes.
I live for a while in its site.
What I fear in it leaves it,
And the fear of it leaves me
It sings, and I hear its song.

What we find as we listen to the songs of our heartbreak: tones of rage, fear, loneliness or longing. But as we listen to those tones you will see that they do not stay forever. Rage turns into sorrow; sorrow turns into tears; tears may fall a long time, but the sun comes out in the morning. A memory of old loss sings to us; our body shakes and relives the moment of loss; then the armoring around that loss gradually softens; and in midst of the song of tremendous grieving, the pain of the loss finally finds its release.

Are you hiding your heartbreak? Are you afraid of what may happen if you allow your sadness to bubble out. God doesn’t want us to be a people that stuff it. He doesn’t want us to have pretty smiles, perfect morals and hidden fucked up lives. When heartbreak comes knocking, God is asking us to open the door. You don’t have to be willing. God’s not asking you to be a sadist. But God is asking us to look. To take notice of our pain, lean into our broken hearts and go through that heartache so that we may not live half our lives in fear. So that we may truly forgive, or simply love again. God is with us. And you know what? We are with us. Today… if you are hurting, lean on to your friends and counselors. Hopefully they will pray with you, cry with you. Let you express yourself without worrying that you don’t have a smile on your face. It’s hard to move through the melancholy of our lives. But don’t be afraid, you have a God that will walk through these shadows with you. He knows that by addressing it, leaning into the reasons why, and morning the loss of whatever it is, that your heart will break all the way open, allowing for more love to enter your life. Today begin to look inward, tell the truth to yourself, however it looks, so that you may let your broken heart be mended.

The Dash That Lies Within

It’s a somber day. You’re in a church, not like this one. Its grand woodwork and pews seem to extend for miles. The stone on the inside stretches to engulf the brightly colored stained glass. The gentle church organ is playing something unrecognizable but it seems to set a very melancholy tone. People are sitting on the hard wooden benches, dressed in black. Someone has died. And as you walk up the aisle you see certain family members and some friends. You remember reading something in the paper about a death occurring, however it seems strange that you’re there. The casket is now before you. You gather enough strength to look in and inside ...there you are…dead. You listen to what your family, friends, coworkers say about you… what are they saying? The scene changes as you see your body get lowered into the grave.

The grave stone says
RIP
Here lies YOU
This year – that year

Then all of the sudden the earth starts moving near the grave stone… you might think it’s a earthquake when all of the sudden you see a hand clawing its way towards the sky… Its you … the dead… coming to rise again …cause this is thrillah….

Sorry… I know totally lame to bring up MJ. I’m so Bad…but I left my other sermon in my billy jeans… so if you don’t like this one you can probably Beat It…. Its All hallows eve eve today, and you can’t get away from the spooky… and what’s spookier than a graveyard … am I right?

I guess the reason why I’m thinking about the spookiness of headstones is that two weeks ago I began helping my dad archive pictures onto the computer. These were pictures different people I’m related to… it just so happened that these were of my grandfather’s dad. There were pictures of him as a baby, the house he was born in, his football pictures at University of Oregon. As we looked through all 14 of his pictures, we selected 8 that we actually knew who was in the photos or what exactly was happening. We found his death certificate, and some newspaper clippings about him. Typesetting it we realized that the sum of his life could be compiled into 8 pictures, 3 pages of text, and a death certificate. After about 2 hours worth of work, my dad looked at what we had and he told me “well there’s your great grandfather… an entire lifetime and we only have 11 pages.

And it got me to thinking about an even more grim scene.. I realized that on a gravestone below the RIP and the person’s name is the year they were born *dash* the year they died. An entire lifetime can be abbreviated into a mere dash.

Close your eyes and feel the mortality of the human body you’ve been given. Death is certain for us—only the time of death is yet to be discovered. Imagine yourself to be at the end of your life—next week or next year or decades from now…sometime in the future. Now cast your memory back across your whole life and bring to mind two good deeds that you have done, two things that you did that were good. They don’t need to be grandiose; let whatever wants to arise show itself. In picturing and remembering these good deeds, also become aware of how these memories affect your consciousness, how they transform the feelings and state of the heart and mind, as you see them.

Look carefully at the quality of these situations, at what is comprised in a moment of goodness picked out of a lifetime of words and actions. Almost everyone who is able to remember such deeds in this meditation discovers them to be remarkably simple. They are rarely the deeds one would put on a resume. For some people a moment of goodness was simply the one when they told their father before he died that they loved him, or when they flew across country in the midst of their busy life to care for their sister’s children as she was healing from a car accident. It could be that you thought back to a crowded street where you and someone else got to a parking spot at the same time, and you gave it to that person.

The things that matter most in our lives are not fantastic or grand. They are the moments when we touch one another, when we are there in the most attentive or caring way. This simple and profound intimacy is the love that we all long for. These moments of touching and being touched can become a foundation for a way of life, and they take place in the most immediate and direct way. Mother Teresa put it like this: “In this life we cannot do great things. We can only do small things with great love.”

I did this exercise 10 years ago and found myself drawing a blank when it came to any good deeds. The reason why was because everything that I had flagged as a “good deed” was also something that had an ulterior motive with my benefit at the end of the road. I racked my brain over and over to view something that I had done in my life that I did purely for the betterment, or love of someone else. I found nothing. Perhaps you are in this boat. You close your eyes and all you see is what you’ve done to others to benefit yourself, and what you’ve done to get where you’re at today. Let me tell you this morning that this is no life. Your dash in the middle is a self centered life, one that doesn’t have charity built in, it doesn’t benefit others. In fact it is this sort of life devoid of love that people do not miss, if not even give a sigh a relief when this person passes away.

In his first letter to the Corinthians Paul pleads with the church in Corinth to let their dashes…the ones that comprise their lives, to be filled with love. For it is his view that as everything falls by the wayside unless you fill your life with the love of God.

But what does this look like? We’ve already heard from Ken this morning on what his experience. I have another story that is similar. It just happened recently that a friend tried to extend his comfort zone to try to begin loving people. He writes this.

Well, I headed out to meet everyone at Pioneer Square tonight for the hang out and giveaway. But my lame ass didn't get up out the house until 7, and when I arrived downtown clutching a package of socks, there was no one to be found.I was a little mad at myself for missing [the gang], but oh well, I thought. I'll bring the socks the next time ... I was going to just go browse Powell's… and head home.Then I met George. I was walking along and passed him panhandling on Broadway, near the Heathman. I pulled out my last 5 dollars and dropped it in his basket, and I smiled and greeted him, and he thanked me, and I said "anytime" and told him God bless. I was walking away when he said "Thank you for treating me like a human being." I turned back around and said "hey, don't mention it, that's what it's all about." I leaned against the store window next to him and we [started] talk[ing].We talked for over an hour. That $5 and eye contact were the price of admission to the life of George, and it was well worth it. And if things had gone as planned, I'd have never met him.George is in his fifties and has been homeless for 30-some odd years. He has no cartilage in his knees, plus arthritis. That's what I learned in the first two minutes. The rest of the time was spent talking about life, the universe and everything, and learning what George thinks and feels. Things like, if you love your enemies, you can have no enemies. Like, God loves us and looks out for us, even in the hardest of circumstances. Like, They can jail your body, but you have to LET them jail your spirit. Like, he would rather be homeless and alert to the world with its beauties and dangers, than comfortable and complacent. Like, we don't have to grow senile and decrepit, if we … care [for] our bodies and spirits we could live longer… in … health and vitality. I tried to help George out, and it's HIM that blessed ME. Our conversation veered from the Chronicles of Narnia to Tibetan monks to the societal changes wrought by the internet. Every moment in his presence was joy, every word and gesture of his dripped love.Our conversation only ended when George pulled up stakes to go camp out of the rain. Whatever else happened (or didn't) happen the past day, I was fulfilled in meeting and communing with George. We hugged, twice. We parted as brothers. Oh, and I gave him the socks. I'll buy more for the next time.

That is his experience in the dash that we call life. And as someone typesets my epitaph I’m not sure they will get the nuances of what my life has been about. When I think back on my life what pops up as one of my “good deeds” is simply giving my sweatshirt away. I met a guy downtown, a huge New Yorker, and I happened to have on a New York sweatshirt. He commented on it several times. I felt that it would be nice to give it to him. He was taken aback, weirded out, at first couldn’t accept it… as I insisted and he put it on. To this day we are great friends.

What is the value of your favorite piece of clothing? Is it more valuable than lets say … your soul? I’m not advocating going and giving away all of your stuff. I am questioning our priorities! What are you doing during your week? How much of your life is devoted to loving others?

We are a creative community, and I want to be clear on one thing. Art is not Love. What was written about this mans experience is inspiring, and inspired by what he did. We can write about love, sing about love, paint, write poetry, and speak about love… But all of these are inspired by the ACT of loving. Don’t fool yourself into complacency and oblivion by allowing your inspirations be what should be your aspirations. Please by all means write, compose, paint, be as creative as possible, but realize that the act of loving someone else with no agenda is what will inspire your artistry.

James, in talking to churches all over the map, says “do you say you have faith in God? Then do something!” He says that true religion stems from caring for those who have slipped through the cracks. Loving, caring, spending time and energy blessing other people with no agenda is NEVER GOING TO BE EASY. Like my friend who met George…Things won’t go as planned! Yet it was in that seemingly negligible space of availability, and effort….that loving someone with no agenda brought its reward. What was that reward? Lives were changed on both parts. Connection with a loving God happened to both parties… however small. And that is what God is calling you to do every day.

We’re so conscious of our time, yet we spend none of it doing the things that would truly make it remarkable. Let’s be remarkable…This week I want to ask you to take one half hour out of your week and spend it doing “a good deed” for someone else, with no expectation of payback… none…. Think about it… How will your life change years from now if you begin to prioritize love in your life. Doing the small things with great love… What will your dash look like?

I'm One Sick Preacher!

It was a grim scene. I was driving like a bat out of hell towards a place called White Salmon. I had never been there; I only knew that at a particular fork I was to turn left. I was calming myself by saying that I somehow would know when to turn. Then a voice floated on my right making the scene even more cinematic. “loves” the voice said. It was my girlfriend who was uncomfortably lying in the passenger seat. I glanced over, careful not to careen off the cliffs on my right. “yeah?” she wearily uttered ”3 taps means I love you. OK?” After which she taps on my hand 3 times with her finger. At that point my mind goes into any sort of schmaltzy “Beaches,” Fried green tomatoes type of movie. You know the kind my mom loves to go to. Or sit up and watch round about Christmas time, bawling her eyes out between Hallmark commercials. The one where the cancer patient tells the faithful husband of 25 years “3 taps means I love you” before entering into a coma. And he sits next to her side and at one point before they’re about to pull the plug she gives him 3 taps. I’m thinking “is this how it ends?” as my girlfriend in stuntman type of gusto has been launched from a 9 foot teeter totter to come plummeting to the earth. I could only pray, I could only think of one destination I needed to get to, As we are racing towards the hospital, I felt the gentle touch of her finger 3 times - tap tap tap. All I could think about was when we get to the Doctor, we’ll know.

Have you ever had the experience of needing a doctors help? You feel utterly helpless, and completely needy. We all have gone sometime, and we all will need to go sometime. What are feelings you have associated with doctors?

I think it could be odd to picture. But in Ireland, after the family that was hosting me was asleep, there I was, in my shorts, on doing squat thrusts in front of my old college roommate. I know it looks sordid, and when I say he was checking me out it might sound sordid, however my old roommate is a physical therapist and I had a sports related injury. Doing capoeira outside on Alberta street in May. And Messed up my knee. He was checking it out because I never saw anybody for it. (insurance reasons) Anyway, he ended up looking at my knee. After doing a couple tests on it and having me squat and other things, he said “good news, it seems like it’s a muscle tear and you can probably do up to 98% of what you did before.” He told me that I needed to use it. I said “I’m scared because it might hurt again” So he proscribed a couple exercises and encouraged me to try to use it equally with the other. 2 months later…I’m able to run on it.

Now I know that you all have doctor related stories, times you got better and times that you got sick, and you might tell me this isn’t health class, or this isn’t an insurance seminar, where are you going Geoff?

Well it’s been on my mind because I’ve been sick the past three days.
And being sick is never fun for me.(as if its fun for anyone else) My body tends to shut down. It’s completely lame because … I have stuff to do. I’m an important person. I can’t be in bed. I have to have a personality. And what sucks is that one of the first things that go out the window when I get sick is I lose my personality. I begin this routine of Frankenstein versus the rest of the world. Questions get shot my way and my response is ahhhhhhh. How are your doing “ahhhh” do you want anything to eat “ahhhh” what do you want to eat “ahhhhh”. But more than the last three days I’ve found out that I’ve been sick my whole life. And the scary thing is…its terminal. Yeah, I haven’t told a lot of people yet, perhaps you have noticed it in me before but I am sick… sick…and wrong.

Only someone as sick as I am would tell you this joke:
“Three vampires walk into a bar. One orders a blood on the rocks. Another orders a double blood. The third simply asks for a mug of hot water."Why didn't you order blood like everyone else?" asks the bartender. The vampire pulls out a tampon and says, "I'm making tea!" ”

I know… I know…I don’t condone vampires either, anybody who dresses in goth without dangling a huge crucifix around their neck has something wrong with them. Anyway, Oh yeah… I’m totally sick. The fact that as I was studying for this message I got detracted for a good ten minutes reading about some guy’s explosive diarrhea experience that caused him to vomit into his elastic ankled sweatpants. Gives you a good indication on how sick I really am.

So again you’re asking… Geoff I get it, you now no longer have any credibility? So why are you still talking?

I’m trying to shake you up. Make you think differently. You probably got up this morning and said. I wonder what the lord has for me this morning. You probably came to church thinking, we’ll get to sing some songs and hear a message that will make my heart be excited for being a Christian for today. Little did you know that sick ol’ Geoff was going to tell you about the fabled launching of his girlfriend in ’05 or explosive diarrhea?

But there was a toppling of people’s religious contexts in the year 30 AD as well. And there was a man who seemed a little nuts and was noticed by the religious folks in the crowd. This man asked people to follow him, because he told them that he was the Son of God. Sound nuts? Maybe not to you because you’re in a church, but to the religious of the time, only a very sick person would make such claims.

“9 Passing along, Jesus saw a man at his work collecting taxes. His name was Matthew. Jesus said, "Come along with me." Matthew stood up and followed him. 10 Later when Jesus was eating supper at Matthew's house with his close followers, a lot of disreputable characters came and joined them. 11 When the Pharisees saw him keeping this kind of company, they had a fit, and lit into Jesus' followers. "What kind of example is this from your Teacher, acting cozy with crooks and riff-raff?" 12 Jesus, overhearing, shot back, "Who needs a doctor: the healthy or the sick? 13 Go figure out what this Scripture means: 'I'm after mercy, not religion.' I'm here to invite outsiders, not coddle insiders." (MATTHEW 9:9-13)

And if the Religious leaders at the time looked up that scripture. They would have looked up Hosea 6:6 that was talking about a group of people that were doing all of the correct religious sacrifices but had no concept of the reasoning why. They were doing it with pride, thinking they were top of the food chain when God saw that they were clueless.

Are you sick this morning? Are you seen as a crook, riffraff, disreputable, maybe an outsider? Or do you see yourself as someone who has it all together, upstanding, and healthy.

I was hurt this week as I was reading a website of a church that proudly expresses that John 3:16 states that Jesus died only for those who believe. And that in itself didn’t hurt me because it does say “JOHN 3:16"For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son,[a] that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life.” It hurt me because they used this scripture in conjunction with a predestination scripture to form this particular stance: if you do not believe in Jesus, Jesus didn’t die for you and therefore you are Not worth the church’s time. Not redeemable ..possibly even subhuman. They use this view to fuel a rage that is teeming within them that allows them to look upon humanity. And those that are crooks, riffraff, disreputable, sick, or maybe simply outsiders are targeted, and they get a message. But it isn’t a message of a Jesus who stayed in their dysfunctional home, or came up to them on the street, or saw them for who they are. It is a message of judgment. A message of anger.
These insiders are allowing the “good doctor”, “the great physician”, “the wonderful counselor” to give only and singularly the bad news of judgment. No wonder people want a second opinion.
No wonder people want to hear better news of a god that doesn’t have anything to do with Jesus. No wonder people only switch on the Trinity Broadcasting Network if they want a good Chuckle. No wonder people are so confused about whether Christians are actually safe people or are they SICK?

In a very difficult time in my life, I had just seen my counselor that day, when some news came my way that was devastating. I knew I didn’t want to freak out and call my counselor after I had just seen her 3 hours previous. But I didn’t know what to do. Immediately I sat down on my couch and began looking at the chair in front of me. And I began to think that Jesus was sitting in the chair, very much like my counselor would be. I then talked to the chair for an hour, the way I would my counselor. Am I a nut? Perhaps… Do you think I’m sick? well I’ve already proven that one. But did I gain incite into myself that calmed me down, yes. Did I view this as a prayer to God, yes. Why do I keep asking questions and answering them? I don’t know.
Perhaps because I want us to see this: Doctors have that ability to tell you what’s wrong, and if they pinpoint it correctly, even though you still hurt, somehow the effect of knowing tends to put you at ease and have the effect of making you feel better. The Doctor’s diagnosis is one that can be good news or bad news, but it is the news that allows you to move into a better place for yourself.

The interesting thing was when my friend told me that my knee injury wasn’t permanent… I believed him. So I began walking on it squatting on it and not favoring my other leg. And it is in fact getting better.

And Today …Doctor God has some bad news for us… Your sickness, is terminal. If you do nothing for your sickness it will eat you alive. But God has some good news too… Its referred to as Gospel… good news, our sickness has a cure. It has a miracle healing everlasting cure. What is that cure you may ask?

But God proves His own love for us in that while we were still sinners Christ died for us! (Romans 5:8)

Regardless whether we view ourselves as insiders, or outsiders, sick or well. It is God’s desire to see that you become who you’ve been created to be. Whole. And no matter how healthy, sick, uppercrust, or riffraff you are… God wants you to know that you are loved, we are loved, all on an equal playing field, whether you feel like you are reaching your potential or just barely making it. Jesus is your cure. You can believe it or not.

His love. Grace, in turn should cause us to become a great lover of people, whether they are reaching the maximum potential or not. A lover of mercy, and lover of forgiveness. One of the great commandments is Love your neighbor. How can you build up the person next to you? Across the hall. Downtown. How can you get to know them outside of their labels. Your labels…Economic, spiritual, or other.

Where is God’s heart this morning? Its where it always is. Its where it always has been. Its asking you to be whole. The Doctor sees you and even though you have quite a bit of therapy ahead of you. Its beckoning you forward. Its pulling you out of your circumstance and saying that “you are mine.” The great physician’s heart is always in love with you. You, as you were meant to be. God’s heart is compassionate towards your life. The Doctor Knows exactly who you are and where you’ve been. The Counselor knows beyond a shadow of a doubt what makes you wince about your life, what sickens you about yourself, and what you feel trapped in. The Doctor is “in” and he is here to speak into that that trap, that sickness, and say “come.” Those habits are not who you’re meant to be. “Come,” You don’t need to be embarrassed. “Come with me,” “follow me” and you will be well.

And the bands played...

Two weeks ago I was in the heart of Northern Ireland. In the western part of Belfast. I had just finished going into a local pub called “the Gin Palace” where supposedly some ungodly amounts of Guinness were polished off nightly. I thought that I may help them out in their endeavor; however no one was interested in talking to me in there. But as I left, staring at me, in front of the hostel, was a marching band. It was a parade. The beautiful brightly colored flags were waving; there were about ten snare drummers, twenty flutists and a base drummer that was kicking his bass drum’s ass (One of the funniest things to watch). As the crowd began to gather, more bands came. I asked naively what this was, and someone told me it was a Band Parade. I asked what is it for, and they clarified: “it’s a parade…with bands.” I knew this person was not going to be terribly helpful and asked someone else… and someone said that it was a competition. Soon I landed a question on a man full of tattoos and with a shaved head (which every man and boy in Ireland is either bald or has a shaved head): “who do you think is going to win?” To which a Cockney accent declared “no one will win.”

I soon had a new best friend due to my purchasing him a pint of Harp and he shared with me a plethora of off color jokes. It turns out my new best friend Dennis was a stanch Protestant. He had arrived in Belfast 30 years prior, stationed there to keep the peace. I had seen what peace had done earlier that day. As my bus crossed the division between the protestant neighborhood into the catholic neighborhood, I saw the murals the poked fun of each side’s interpretation of the other’s versions of peace: depictions of massacres, caricatures of the other side making them out to be monsters. Finally I caught a glimpse of something even more disturbing: “The Peace Wall of Belfast.” And between houses was erected a 25 foot fence that looked as if it was out of some post apocalyptic movie. The Peace wall’s thinly woven steel grating was saturated by barb and razor wire as well as prongs to “keep the peace.” I guess anything that would stop the bottle bombs.

Dennis shared with me his side of who the other was. His view of the “finians” as he called the catholic side, was one that was shaped by 25 years of service to the UK army. 25 years of war: Bombings, his friends dying, and his heart breaking over and over again. As a result the finians we not people to Dennis, they were filth that needed to be swept up. He had created a hard persona that seemed to get crazier the more pints of Harp I bought him. However, I found his stories fascinating. It was like watching a train wreck… you know its going to be bad… but somehow you can’t take your eyes off of it.

He leaned over to me and asked me what I thought of the bands. I said they are beautiful… I wish I knew the occasion. To which he told me “you think this is great, you need to come here July 12th. What a site! Ten times the amount of bands are playing in the streets, and then they go and play on the finian side as well.” --- Now in a lot of American High schools the status of the boy in the band is not too favorable…and the status of the boy who plays flute in the band is usually not too well received--- however, I soon realized what the status was of these men who played their flutes so proudly. Their main purpose in playing, was to create unrest. Their playing was a war cry. And as they entered the parts of town that they were not allowed, riots would follow. And as I stood there I realized how correct Dennis was when he told me “no one will win.”

When I woke up the next morning, I began to realize the magnitude of the hatred of these two groups, the Catholics and the Protestants. I soon felt sick to my stomach to realize that the people’s faith label had turned into a gang name. The heart of the message was extracted because of people’s lack of living by the message. Incidentally, John Stewart asked his audience on the daily show as a picture of Jesus floated above him “Have you ever tried to live your life by what this guy has to say? I mean, after about an hour or so you need some me time.” But somehow that jocose poking fun at living your life religiously loses its humor when your religion becomes your gang. Later when I arrived in Dublin I got to meet someone who was in the IRA (someone who “fights for his country”), and sure enough his bands were playing loudly… and for him no one was winning.

And there once was a man in the 1st century whose bands were playing. And the thing is when your bands are playing you can’t really hear who is winning. You’re so enamored by the music--the sound of your own tune--that you have no idea that you’re not winning. And unfortunately the sound of your own tune doesn’t allow yourself to see that the person next to you isn’t winning either. The man’s name was Saul. And Saul was a man who was involved in a gang of Jews. And their gang’s tune justified murder to them. And more importantly it justified murdering Christians. This man became notorious for his hunt. He was a man who was truly feared by all Christians at the time. It actually took an act of God to stop this man from marching to his own tune. After being commissioned by the chief priest to act as judge jury and executioner, Saul had quite an experience on the way to Damascus.

3He set off. When he got to the outskirts of Damascus, he was suddenly dazed by a blinding flash of light. 4As he fell to the ground, he heard a voice: "Saul, Saul, why are you out to get me?" 5He said, "Who are you, Master?" "I am Jesus, the One you're hunting down. 6I want you to get up and enter the city. In the city you'll be told what to do next." 7His companions stood there dumbstruck--they could hear the sound, but couldn't see anyone-- 8while Saul, picking himself up off the ground, found himself stone blind. They had to take him by the hand and lead him into Damascus. 9He continued blind for three days. He ate nothing, drank nothing. 10There was a disciple in Damascus by the name of Ananias. The Master spoke to him in a vision: "Ananias." "Yes, Master?" he answered. 11"Get up and go over to Straight Avenue. Ask at the house of Judas for a man from Tarsus. His name is Saul. He's there praying. 12He has just had a dream in which he saw a man named Ananias enter the house and lay hands on him so he could see again." 13Ananias protested, "Master, you can't be serious. Everybody's talking about this man and the terrible things he's been doing, his reign of terror against your people in Jerusalem! 14And now he's shown up here with papers from the Chief Priest that give him license to do the same to us." 15But the Master said, "Don't argue. Go! I have picked him as my personal representative to Gentiles and kings and Jews. 16And now I'm about to show him what he's in for--the hard suffering that goes with this job." 17So Ananias went and found the house, placed his hands on blind Saul, and said, "Brother Saul, the Master sent me, the same Jesus you saw on your way here. He sent me so you could see again and be filled with the Holy Spirit." 18No sooner were the words out of his mouth than something like scales fell from Saul's eyes--he could see again! He got to his feet, was baptized, 19and sat down with them to a hearty meal.

This man marching to the tune of “murderer in God’s name”…he was cleansing the world of blasphemers. Someone who is a Jew through and through… God came in and changed his tune. (He was now in charge of telling non-Jews--the lowly unclean non-Jews) He was now in charge of telling the non-Jews about God. How much Karma is that?

Saul was a Jew, and I don’t want rail on other religions doing stuff in God’s name that’s fucked up. There are far too many people in Christianity doing terrible things in the name of God to address. I’m sticking to my small circle of influence and knowledge base. OH we can go to the far right crazies like Pat Robertson who gets a little tongue-tied when talking about the Venezuelan President, asking for governmental assassination, or kidnapping… however he would like you to interpret it. AND We can address the haughty criticisms of men who believe somehow that Hurricane Katrina, and its devastation, is God’s judgment of the “sinful city” of New Orleans. (Which by the way does point out their myopic and shallow view of who God is, and their true lack of understanding of what is actually happening when calamity occurs) But I would rather take on something a little bit more personal… Something that we can’t just dismiss because its “out there” …because it doesn’t get national coverage…I want to talk about what we do in the name of God?

In the summer of ’95, in the fervor of my becoming a Christian at 20, I had the only conversation that I would ever have with my best friend Timory about my faith… It quickly turned into a political discussion about abortion. And about hell. Both of which I was merely quoting items that I simply heard from other people in my church. That next April, my friend was dead. She fell out of a three story window on her birthday. I didn’t have the ability to convey the grace I was shown. She had been blocked by the noise of my band, but I hadn’t gotten the chance to understand the sheet music yet. The bands of Christianity’s bad press were playing for me, and it seemed as if my band was going down a street to cause a riot… and it grieved me, and her, and we never talked of my faith again.

And my heart still goes out to Timory, and the music that she heard that night from my mouth I hope no one would hear again. Because the title of the tune the fife was playing was “MY GOD IS A PRICK.” And I had no clue, until she died, that no one was winning.

Dennis’s band in Belfast was playing the strong fife call of the Red hand of Ulster… the protestant symbol, but as I got to know him better I found that he was both protestant…and atheist. Sure enough no one was winning.

The man Saul in the first century, in fact he did change his tune and his name. And sure enough Paul the apostle went on to dive into the non-Jewish world. He wrote this in his first letter to the church in Corinth:
13:1 If I could speak in any language in heaven or on earth[a] but didn't love others, I would only be making meaningless noise like a loud gong or a clanging cymbal. 2If I had the gift of prophecy, and if I knew all the mysteries of the future and knew everything about everything, but didn't love others, what good would I be? And if I had the gift of faith so that I could speak to a mountain and make it move, without love I would be no good to anybody. 3If I gave everything I have to the poor and even sacrificed my body, I could boast about it;[b] but if I didn't love others, I would be of no value whatsoever.

Paul knew his past actions of murder in God’s name were the meaningless and tragic gongs of fanaticism. Those symbol crashes sent the message throughout the land “MY GOD IS A PRICK!” Not that God is in need of being defended, but I believe that we should recognize who He truly is.

Is God a Prick? With the amount of nut-jobs and sandwich board preachers out there you would think so. With the amount of devastation and pain that is out there you would think so. With the bible talking so much about sin and punishment and gnashing of teeth…you would think so. So is he a prick?

I think one of the things that gets misinterpreted in the tune of God is that God is Holy. This implies that every excellence fitting to the Supreme Being is found in God without blemish or limit. It also implies that all other divine moral excellences (goodness, justice, mercy, truth, and grace) are unified and made mutually harmonious in infinite degree in God. Holiness can be something and has been interpreted as a Prick like feature of God. For it is his holiness that can’t stand sin, and it is his holiness that would like people to fly right, don’t do this and don’t do that, and if you do, eternal damnation…Total sandwich board Christianity. But let me clarify: this holiness is God’s Character. Meaning: This is who God is… not the personality or choices that God makes, it’s like you having a belly, a cowlick, or leg hair. God has to deal with His holiness. Now people who get off on yelling about people sinning, and God not wanting to be around sin, sometimes… they might be accurate, however, I believe they are playing the tune that most of the time we all misinterpret.

We think about the angry God, the vengeful God, God who is a Prick, and when we think of this we are usually are listening to the tune of perfection for our lives, or a need of perfection in the world as we know it. But here’s the God that should be recognized: For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him will not perish but have eternal life. In knowing himself, and knowing you, he created a way to jump the perfection gap and have you come close. God even went to the lengths of death so that you could be with him. The song of Jesus Christ is a love song that crosses the barrier of an imperfect human and brings them close to a holy God.

Quickly and with the help of God’s re-tuning, Paul played his music as equally loud as he did before. However this time it was with love… he wrote this:
13:4Love is patient and kind. Love is not jealous or boastful or proud 5or rude. Love does not demand its own way. Love is not irritable, and it keeps no record of when it has been wronged. 6It is never glad about injustice but rejoices whenever the truth wins out. 7Love never gives up, never loses faith, is always hopeful, and endures through every circumstance.

This morning I would like us to check ourselves. We may have had a specific feeling that God is supposed to move one way or the other. And it causes us to say specific things. Or perhaps you’re thinking God feels this way about this, and as a result you have been stepping out and doing something specific.
My question for you today is: Is your band playing the song “MY GOD IS A PRICK?”…if so nobody will win.
I believe it is time to retune our band to play the tune to God’s love…
for if we do…everybody will wins.

Fire From the Sky...Fish From Below

“Fire will come down! Brimstone will be upon you! In Forty Days you must get right with God, repent and turn from you your sin or else you will be destroyed.”

Oh yes we’re here in the open and I don’t know what you were expecting but I’m about to give you a little Fire and Brimstone. Because I think its high time that the Bridge went to places that we never go… Here we are today out in the sun. Worshipping God outside. And we’re out of our element. So I’m making it even worse and talking to you about one fire and brimstone preacher of the bible.

Now you might have heard of him but this was a prophet of old that had a lot of hatred towards the people he was preaching to. You see, this Fire and brimstone preacher had a strange call by God to go over to a very wicked city. And say that in forty days y’all gonna die.

Now when I say wicked city: There are some places where child prostitution is running repent in the world, and those citys are actually pretty tame compared to this particular one that Mr. Fire and Brimstone was called to. They had piles of severed heads of their enemies in the street. Perhaps at Christmas time they decorated the severed head Pile. If they caught and captured their enemies they would cut off their hands, feet, ears and noses, and would pluck out their eyes. This was one of the reasons why this fire and brimstone preacher didn’t want to Go…I think he rather liked his features. He hated them… they might have killed his friend, brother. And sure enough they sat high on the totem pole with their thumb on every nation in the land. But the other reason was the implication on why he had to go and preach fire and brimstone… There were countless nations that have been destroyed by acts of war in the past without warning… or more specifically Prophet’s warning. But this prophet was to go to this nation and tell them that if they didn’t shape up that they would be destroyed.

Now normally this wouldn’t be that big of a deal. But the sheer gall of God asking this man. A holy man. But also a very angry man. To go to another Nation and give them a warning well it just wont do. So Mr. Fire and Brimstone packed up and went the opposite way.

Well perhaps you have heard of Mr. Fire and Brimstone before… His name was Jonah. And perhaps you have heard of the outcome of the story…

Jonah runs the other direction… towards Tashish… gets flung into the sea by a bunch of freaked out Sailors. Gets gobbled up by a fish. Three days later gets barfed onto dry land with fishy goo all over him. And he decides to finally do what God wants him to do.

Now something crazy happens when he ends up preaching the Fire and Brimstone. Something happened that probably no street Preacher in the history of time has ever had happen. The people listened. Not only did they listen, but the largest scale revival happened on account of it… This is what the King said “Do not let any man or beast, herd or flock, taste anything; do not let them eat or drink. 8 But let man and beast be covered with sackcloth. Let everyone call urgently on God. Let them give up their evil ways and their violence. 9 Who knows? God may yet relent and with compassion turn from his fierce anger so that we will not perish.”
And not only did they do this but God turned from his anger and spared the city… So the angry Fire and brimstone preacher was foiled. God’s in his grace and Mercy changed his mind about them and they lived… the end… well kind of 75 years later under a different rulership Nahum came tried to ask them to be nice again and they ended up getting destroyed.

Now… I don’t know about you but all of these fun bible stories about judgment and grace and the fishy fire and brimstone preacher make me wonder if my life is at all connected as a Christian. I know that my faith somehow says that God is Immutable…meaning unchanging. But it just seams that ever since Jesus, we don’t have random prophets going to nations declaring that there demise is imminent unless they straighten up. And I know that currently we don’t have particular nations that are severing the heads of those around them… but there are bad things that are happening. And So it is easy to ask… do I have the same God of the Old Testament?

Are you confused about the complexity of God, the allowance of pain in this world? Do you cry out “why God?!?” when you hear of all the evil that is in this world.

Someone might make the argument that God just lets this world follow the Third law of Thermo dynamics. That everything goes from a more orderly state to a state of chaos. And sometimes it feels that way. The fact is God has not created this world like a wise old watch maker and let it keep ticking and is now doing other stuff. God is intimately involved in everything that is going on in this world. From birds getting their food to nations crumbling. The idea that God is not involved is just not what the bible tells us. In Job when Job’s in the whirlwind and God is ripping him a new asshole near the end of the book he says: “"The wings of the ostrich flap joyfully, but they cannot compare with the pinions and feathers of the stork.14 She lays her eggs on the ground and lets them warm in the sand, 15 unmindful that a foot may crush them, that some wild animal may trample them. 16 She treats her young harshly, as if they were not hers; she cares not that her labor was in vain, 17 for God did not endow her with wisdom or give her a share of good sense. 18 Yet when she spreads her feathers to run, she laughs at horse and rider.” and implying that the animal is actually too stupid to survive. So in order to maintain its existence God has to intervene. And in order to maintain our existence God is constantly intervening.

But if God intervenes how come there is so much evil in this world. We’ll #1 people are fucked up. So a lot of times people make choices that hurt other people because of selfishness, greed, desire, and old fashion sin… This is any choice you make “not” to love another person. Treat them like an object, use them, make choices that intentionally destroy promises you have made to them, using your words as swords, generally not treating them as a brother. There is a lot of evil in this world because people do a lot of evil in this world. God, though he is intimately involved in this world is also slow to anger, and abundant in mercy. Now when the evil is being done to you this is somewhat aggravating. But when the table is turned and you do something “wrong” it feels pretty good to have a second chance.

I was thinking about that this week and I started off with the really difficult idea that God hates sin. Why else would he have destroyed ninivah? But God hates sin? Now that statement to me is difficult. And when someone says that statement I actually cringe… because it’s usually uttered by one of our favorite street preachers. In their angry voice. More than that … I sin. So that means God hates me. I want to hear about the God of grace and mercy… and how much he loves me… not any of this sin stuff. And as I started thinking about the God of the Old Testament and the God of the New testament. There was something key to my faith that stuck in the middle that was the very representation of both sides of the coin. THE CROSS. What a symbol of how God feels about sin. The judging God of the Old testament is right there in your face with a very real bloody symbol of how he judges Sin. You can’t deny it. The cross is a very vibrant metephore for how God feels about sin. No wonder it has been a point of contention with society since it occurred… because Humanity doesn’t want to rest with the idea that it is apart from God. It would rather believe that it is God. Let me put it straight to you so you can understand. You are not God. You are Human. God is God. And he has done something to redeem you back to him. The very symbol of pain is also the symbol of pure love and communion. THE CROSS.

And he chooses everyone to play by these rules. The rules of love. And for some reason we sometimes have it in our head that God’s chosen are the men with crowns or women with the pretty dresses, the high hair and the bible tucked under their arm. But God’s chosen are the ones who have his nature imprinted on their hearts. God’s chosen are the ones who love. There’s no other litmus test. Do you love? If you don’t, fuck-an-A, this might be your first clue that you need to do something differently. And maybe you’ve already come to the conclusion that you’re not one of God’s chosen because you have seen some of them. Because sometimes even the chosen have a tendency to resemble assholes that simply poop out an angry message of their own agenda. You need to know that everyone is in process. Those who say they know about grace, and abuse it; as well as those who don’t. God will take care of the justice needed to handle those who abuse their heart’s nature. However we can’t throw the baby out with the bathwater. God has chosen all of us… all the world… And he has chosen, and created us to be in his nature. “God is love” first john reads. And in order to truly be who we were meant to be. We Must Love. There is no other meaning to life. If you play music without love you might as well be the wind blowing through a fence…useless and unproductive…and probably creaky.

God’s nature is to love… and in the third chapter of Jonah after the angry fire and brimstone preacher was spit up by the fish, the story says that God spoke to Jonah a second time. And probably if Jonah left again towards Tarshish a big fish would swallow him again. Because God is in the business of giving out his grace to everyone. To Everyone. Including the angry preacher who doesn’t want to give it out.

God wants to speak to us a second time today. And it could be that you’ve been in the belly of your own fish… your own death… and you know exactly why you have been in that fish. Because you have been hiding from God. Trying to separate yourself from God. Maybe because you feel you deserve it. But listen:

You don’t have to be separated from God. Your actions however wrong were exactly that…wrong. And you cannot undo the consequences. However you are not alone. And God says to you today that there is a way out. And that is grace. Grace travels outside of Karma. It sees you where you’re at and it lets you off the hook. It sees the massive debt that is in front of you and pays it. No fees, no sir-charge, no points, no interest. Pays it flat out and asks nothing in return. You don’t need to believe you deserve it…because you probably don’t. But in order to receive it, you do need to accept it.

Accepting such a difficult thing as grace means we have to soften ourselves. Allow ourselves to see that we might not have it all figured out. Allow ourselves to take a risk and believe in such a concept. And accepting that grace also means that we are admitting that we need it. Some of us today would believe that the very things that are killing us are the very things we need to hold onto. And we would rather allow ourselves the liberty and focus of maintaining our lifestyle rather than saying…”I need help.” There is grace for you today.

The Penis Monologues

Happy 3rd of July! Are you in great anticipation of the freedom that you’re going to experience tomorrow…On Independence day? In light of the freedom we’re having this morning, I think it is necessary to talk on a subject that is no stranger to the bible. However it might be a stranger to the pulpit, because it is a hard teaching. It uses a word that makes us snicker, maybe a little red in the face. Possibly makes us think of non-churchly things. This one word in particular has a lot of humorous names, including the real one. This word is also a symbol of oppression… which we have been hearing quite a bit about in the last month. Some religions worship it, some fear it, but rarely do you hear a sermon that says it so many times.

A friend taught me a rather interesting game. Maybe you’ve played it. You usually play this game in a crowded location, possibly where it should be quiet. Here are the rules. You take an embarrassing word. And you say it quietly to your opponent. He (or she) then must say that word a little louder. And so on and so forth. Until you both are embarrassed and hoarse or, one of you concedes to embarrassment. What is the word that causes large embarrassment when uttered at gargantuan tones…? Maybe you have already guessed it …. Yes I’m talking about the PENIS. Yes and you too can play the Penis game.

Did he just say penis in church? Yes I did. The Penis… the symbol of manhood, the instrument of oppression, the fall of man, possibly the rise of man as well. Why on earth Geoff are you saying penis in church?… well I was polishing my American flag pole this afternoon getting it ready to let it fly for our independence day. And it made me think of my topic: Galatians. Well…for two reasons. #1 it has been said that Galatians is the “Magna Carte of Christian Liberty” and what do you want to hear more of on the day before your own nation’s celebration of liberty than “Christian Liberty.” AND #2 because how else am I going to have an excuse to say “penis” in church.

Actually there tends to be somewhat of a theme that is developed throughout the bible about the penis. More specifically the foreskin free phallus. Throughout the bible, there tends to be a rite or ritual that has been developed that is called circumcision.

I know you’re not stupid but let me at least explain the origin: It was established as a national ordinance (Genesis 17:10,11). In compliance with the divine command, Abraham, though ninety-nine years of age, was circumcised on the same day with Ishmael, who was thirteen years old (17:24-27). Slaves, whether home-born or purchased, had their dong’s dinged (17:12,13); and all foreigners must have their stiffies stumped before they could enjoy the privileges of Jewish citizenship (Exodus 12:48). During the journey through the wilderness, the practice of dick dicing fell into disuse, but was resumed by the command of Joshua before they entered the Promised Land (Joshua 5:2-9). It was observed always afterwards among the tribes of Israel, although it is not expressly mentioned from the time of the settlement in Canaan till the time of Christ, about 1,450 years. The Jews prided themselves in the possession of this covenant distinction (Judg. 14:3; 15:18; 1 Samuel 14:6; 17:26; 2Sam 1:20; Ezekiel 31:18).

Basically in order to enjoy the benefits of Israelite life one had to not have one thing… a foreskin.
Besides national allegiance, the act of prick paring was also a spiritual distinction as well to the Hebrew people. It was the symbol of purity. It was a sign and seal of the covenant of grace. It sealed the promises made to Abraham, which related to the commonwealth of Israel, national promises.

Why is this important? Because it is the backdrop of a tradition that gives us incite into what’s happening in the small church of Galatia at the beginning of the first Century AD. You see it was normal practice for people who were Jews to say: “if you want to follow my God you must get your organ of copulation clipped” for purity purposes of course. This is a long time tradition that that spilled over when Judaism moved toward Christianity and was an issue in the Church of Galatia.

The Gentile Christians of Galatia were being persuaded by some guys (Some call them Judaizers some call them religious teachers, I call them the Bobbiteers) to adopt Weiner Wacking and other distinctive Jewish ceremonies. Apparently, these Bobbiteers argued that such conversion to Judaism was necessary to participate fully in the blessings God promised to Abraham. In other words, if the Galatians wanted to be truly part of God's people (and thus spiritually free?), they must become descendants of Abraham by submitting to the Mosaic law.

Now Paul wasn’t necessarily happy about these Bobbiteers. One reason is because they were telling lies about who Paul is, and if he “truly” was a apostle. So if you ever read “the Magne Carte of Christian Liberty” you will see that Paul is engorged with spit and vinegar. But more than that, the Bobbiteers made Paul’s stomach turn. Because the Galatians had this simple faith in Jesus that was getting maligned by a practice of rules… He said this:

Oh, foolish Galatians! What magician has cast an evil spell on you? For you used to see the meaning of Jesus Christ's death as clearly as though I had shown you a signboard with a picture of Christ dying on the cross. 2 Let me ask you this one question: Did you receive the Holy Spirit by keeping the law? Of course not, for the Holy Spirit came upon you only after you believed the message you heard about Christ. 3 Have you lost your senses? After starting your Christian lives in the Spirit, why are you now trying to become perfect by your own human effort? 4 You have suffered so much for the Good News. Surely it was not in vain, was it? Are you now going to just throw it all away? 5 I ask you again, does God give you the Holy Spirit and work miracles among you because you obey the law of Moses? Of course not! It is because you believe the message you heard about Christ.

Paul had little patience with this type of thinking. In his view it was "another gospel" that did not really deserve the name "gospel": those who proclaimed such a message were perverting the true gospel and deserved God's curse (1:6-9)—indeed, they were false brothers whose real purpose was to undermine the freedom that believers have in Christ (2:4-5). This was done by forcing these Galatians to be obedient to the Law. Which Paul goes on to say that those who are under the law are subject to Sin and Death.

The apostle's negative remarks about the Mosaic Law raise a difficult question. If the Hebrews of old were liberated from Egyptian slavery, only to be placed in a law system that shows them they can’t match up. Isn’t that going from slavery to slavery. Isn’t that going from suck to suck! Somehow the 10 commandments that descended from Sinai is supposed to be a symbol of freedom, and even the means of enjoying that freedom in the service of God. But according to Paul, all it shows me is how I don’t measure up. So how do we deal with this?

Now you know that when you’re in church the right answer is always “Jesus Christ”. That’s how we Christians can turn off our critical thinking skills and live in our Happy Place. But let me at least ponder it as an answer. He did after all say that he was the “fulfillment of the law”

31 Jesus said to the people F39 who believed in him, "You are truly my disciples if you keep obeying my teachings. 32 And you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free." (but how can I really be set free if I know the truth and the truth tells me that I don’t measure up. That I’m bad. That I need help. That I don’t do things perfectly)

33 "But we are descendants of Abraham," they said. "We have never been slaves to anyone on earth. What do you mean, 'set free'?" 34 Jesus replied, "I assure you that everyone who sins is a slave of sin. 35 A slave is not a permanent member of the family, but a son is part of the family forever. 36 So if the Son sets you free, you will indeed be free.

This is the big enchilada…”when the Son sets you free”… This is kind of confusing so let me give you an application.

A couple versus sooner Jesus has this woman thrown in front of him. And the teachers who are about to trick Jesus ask him this: This woman was caught in the act of adultery, the law says to stone her (with stones) what do you say we do…

They had interrupted Jesus’s connect the dot artwork that he was drawing on the Temple floor. There were pictures of spaceships that people were confused about, they thought they were other things. Anyway… it looked like the teachers weren’t going away. So he looked up from his art and said he who is without sin, cast the first stone. The teachers got it… and the trick was tricked. The oldest left first and finally the young zealots left and Jesus was with this woman alone. And He asked her “where are your accusers” and she replied nowhere. And Jesus said “nor do I accuse you, go and sin no more.”

And Jesus does the same for us. We look at this law of perfection in front of us and we don’t measure up. And like this woman. We are subject to its consequences. But Jesus being our friend, stands next to us and sets us free from that. Giving us the strength and spirit to “go and sin no more. If we were in that woman’s shoes, same consequences. But when the Son sets her free, she is free indeed.

In developing his theological argument against these Boobiteers, Paul points out that the function of the Mosaic law was that of a temporary guardian. The Greek word used Gal 3:24-25; is paidagogos, which ironically was itself used of slaves who had the responsibility to look after children and discipline them …used to raise and discipline. When disciplined, usually it is because we have done something wrong. This perfection of the law thus naturally will make us feel inadequate. When standing next Jesus, I know I look inadequate. Who can measure up…

I believe monty python put it best when the Priest Prays “O Lord you are so….Big… So incredibly huge so absolutely gargantuan… we’re all impressed down here.”

But when Jesus stands next to us, he who has the authority to throw the stones at the Adulterous woman says “I don’t accuse you either.” And the acceptance of that grace is a start of a new life. Jesus in all of his “bigness” is the bigger man and lets us off the hook. Its no wonder that when Paul found out that these Bobbitteers in Galatia were saying: “in order to enjoy all of the freedoms of God one must be circumcised,” it was his hope that they end up chopping their own dicks off. For to truly enjoy the freedom that comes from God, one must simply come “as is.”

So than Paul in preaches to the pecker punchers that penis paring is posh, and does not reflect the freedom that they should enjoy as believers in Christ. He attributes Abraham’s own one eyed trouser snake shedding (the very first Hebrew Circumcision) as one of his spirit. Sure at 99 he got that little tager taken off. But Paul believes it was a symbol for something. Yes the spiritual cock clipping is called faith. Paul says “Abraham believed God, so God declared him righteous because of his faith." F9 7 The real children of Abraham, then, are all those who put their faith in God.

God sees you in the locker room of your soul, and knows, just like you do, that you don’t measure up. That you come up short. But be encouraged… Jesus has evened the playing field. Your shortcomings have been liberated through Christ. You no longer are subject to the standard that puts us all to shame. We only need to accept that free gift. That new life, that new heart, that newly sheared spiritual penis. We will never measure up. But because of God’s love and understanding… we don’t need to. We can stand unashamed in front of God and see that we’re good. That because of what Christ has given us, we are free to stand erect. To be thankful. To not use it for malicious and evil purposes. But to know that God has truly endowed us with life and life that lets us live large.

So today I ask you where is your spiritual penis at, have you had it liberated? Clipped to show that you are part of God’s children? The tip freed up to indicate that you are free from the immense standards of which you would fall short?

Maybe a while ago you had the foreskin of your spiritual penis removed, and by living in a spiritual community you have started to be infatuated by your own spiritual growth… And maybe you are demanding that others measure up to you. I tell you … be free. Don’t subject others to the standards that somehow you’ve developed. Those standards are idols that are keeping you from the love of God and the love of the people around you. You are not subject to those standards any more. You are free to live large.

And those of you that have never had their spiritual penis clipped. Oh don’t worry… it hurts like hell. The experience of dying to yourself for the sake of having God rebirth a new child within you is not easy… and the healing process takes a lifetime. Why on earth would you do it then? To have the honor of being God’s child. To be free from a standard that we will never measure up to. Or maybe its just simply time and God has finally brought you to this place. All I’m saying is: if it is time, know that God is gentle. That he respects the boundaries that you have. And you know what … He wants to take all that stress of measuring up, all those feelings that you’re inadequate, all that anger that your life isn’t what you want it to be;
he wants to take all that…
……and whack it off.

The Fabled Pearly Gates Joke

This morning, have quite a task in front of me. I want to expose the truths of the pearly gate Joke. You know what I’m talking about: “the pearly gate joke” where someone dies and goes outside the pearly gates of heaven and Peter is there… you know St. Peter, The apostle Peter, Petra the rock… not the wrestler, the fisherman.

You know how it goes: A minister dies and, resplendent in his clerical collar and colorful robes, waits in line at the Pearly Gates. Just ahead of him is a guy dressed in sunglasses, a loud shirt, leather jacket, and jeans.

Saint Peter addresses this guy, "Who are you, so that I may know whether or not to admit you to the Kingdom of Heaven?"

The guy replies, "I'm Joe Green, taxi-driver, of Noo Yawk City." Saint Peter consults his list, smiles and says to the taxi-driver, "Take this silken robe and golden staff, and enter into the Kingdom."

So the taxi-driver enters Heaven with his robe and staff, and the minister is next in line. Without being asked, he proclaims, "I am Michael O'Connor, head pastor of Saint Mary's for the last forty-three years."

Saint Peter consults his list and says, "Take this cotton robe and wooden staff and enter the Kingdom of Heaven."

"Just a minute," says the preacher, "that man was a taxi-driver, and you issued him a silken robe and golden staff. But I get wood and cotton. How can this be?"

"Up here, we go by results," says Saint Peter. "While you preached, people slept -- while he drove, people prayed."

There are biblical truths wrapped up in these jokes people. And this morning I feel like I need to expose the secrets of eternity wrapped up in what we know as the Pearly Gate Joke. Just so you know where I’m coming from:

Three men were standing in line to get into heaven one day.
Apparently it had been a pretty busy day, though, so Peter had to
tell the first one, "Heaven's getting pretty close to full today,
and I've been asked to admit only people who have had particularly
horrible deaths. So what's your story?"

So the first man replies: "Well, for a while I've suspected my wife
has been cheating on me, so today I came home early to try to catch her
red-handed. As I came into my 25th floor apartment, I could tell something
was wrong, but all my searching around didn't reveal where this other guy
could have been hiding. Finally, I went out to the balcony, and sure enough,
there was this man hanging off the railing, 25 floors above ground!
By now I was really mad, so I started beating on him and kicking him,
but wouldn't you know it, he wouldn't fall off. So finally I went back into
my apartment and got a hammer and starting hammering on his fingers.
Of course, he couldn't stand that for long, so he let go and fell --
but even after 25 stories, he fell into the bushes, stunned but okay.
I couldn't stand it anymore, so I ran into the kitchen, grabbed the fridge
and threw it over the edge where it landed on him, killing him instantly.
But all the stress and anger got to me, and I had a heart attack and died
there on the balcony."

"That sounds like a pretty bad day to me," said Peter, and let the man in.

The second man comes up and Peter explains to him about heaven being full,
and again asks for his story.

"It's been a very strange day. You see, I live on the 26th floor of my apartment
building, and every morning I do my exercises out on my balcony.
Well, this morning I must have slipped or something, because I fell over the edge.
But I got lucky, and caught the railing of the balcony on the floor below me.
I knew I couldn't hang on for very long, when suddenly this man burst out onto
the balcony. I thought for sure I was saved, when he started beating on me and
kicking me. I held on the best I could until he ran into the apartment and grabbed
a hammer and started pounding on my hands. Finally I just let go, but again I got
lucky and fell into the bushes below, stunned but all right. Just when I was
thinking I was going to be okay, this refrigerator comes falling out of the sky
and crushes me instantly, and now I'm here."

Once again, Peter had to concede that that sounded like a pretty horrible death.

The third man came to the front of the line, and again Peter explained that
heaven was full and asked for his story.
"Picture this," says the third man, "I'm hiding inside a refrigerator..."

If you’ve heard the pearly gate joke, you might have thought to yourself… “Is this true? When I die will I be standing outside the pearly gates, feet resting upon fluffy clouds, staring face to face at St Peter? Will he ask me hard biblical questions that I won’t know the answers to?” Maybe you haven’t thought of the overarching importance associated with the pearly gate joke before. Well let me enlighten you.

The Pearly Gate Joke was developed in the early 14th century during the papacy of Leo the 10th. It was originally developed to try to make the monks laugh uncontrollably and therefore break their vow of silence. Some key priests who desired to rule different monasteries would target those who were very devout (as well as very quiet) and recite the most famous of Pearly Gate Joke “un dado dei tre uomini e va a cielo” (translated three men die and go to heaven). When the monks broke their vow of silence and laughed uncontrollably, the priests then would report it to big man Leo and begin their process of takeover. Incidentally, it was the malicious use of the pearly gate joke and the need for the church to consider what was happening in this very dark time that led to Luther’s 95 thesis to be created in 1517.

The Pearly gate joke’s biblical context as we know is Matthew 16:13-20. Turn in your bibles please.

13 Now when Jesus came into the parts of Caesarea Philippi, he asked his disciples, saying, "Who do men say that I, the Son of Man, am?" 14 They said, "Some say John the Baptizer, some, Elijah, and others, Jeremiah, or one of the prophets." 15 He said to them, "But who do you say that I am?" 16 Simon Peter answered, "You are the Christ, the Son of the living God." 17 Jesus answered him, "Blessed are you, Simon Bar-jonah, for flesh and blood has not revealed this to you, but my Father who is in heaven. 18 I also tell you, that you are Peter, and on this rock I will build my assembly, and the gates of death will not prevail against it. 19 I will give to you the keys of the Kingdom of Heaven, and whatever you will bind on earth will be bound in heaven; and whatever you will loose on earth will be loosed in heaven."

Now despite the notorious roots stemming from the origin of the pearly gate joke, you will probably be able to see in context how the pearly gate joke got its theology. Here, due to his confession, St. Peter is given the keys to the kingdom of heaven. Now, the evil priests in the early 14th century postulated that if Peter was given (by Jesus) the keys to the pearly gates of the kingdom of heaven, as well as given the authority to bind and loose, he must be the gate keeper. So (they thought) what hilarity will ensue when someone dies and meets old peter up there? The fun never ends. And the jokes have been coming ever since.

We’re a new breed however. Over the ages, like a fine limburger, the evil thought patterns associated with the pearly gate joke have dissipated. And bubbling up to the surface is a fine fragrance of laughter. But like any other tradition, we need to be weary of its roots. We must know truly what Matthew 16 is saying otherwise we could have this tradition trump our thoughts on what these gates and keys are, and what peter has to do with it.

So what is going on in Matt 16? Something very pivotal. Jesus asked the disciples “who do you say I am?”

The only adequate answer to the question put by Jesus was given by Peter in the words “You are the Christ, the Son of the living God.” Peter knew that Jesus was not just another in the long line of prophets to whom the living God had spoken in many and various ways in the past, but the Son of that living God who knew, as only such a Son could know, the mind and purposes of His Father. Jesus was well aware that this great confession was not made by Peter on the spur of the moment as if he had been ‘stung by the splendor of a sudden thought’. Nor was he voicing a second-hand opinion learned from some other creature of flesh and blood. On the contrary, ever since the day when he stood before Jesus and felt compelled to say ‘Depart from me; for I am a sinful man, O Lord’, and yet in spite of that reluctance had found himself irresistibly led to respond to Jesus’ call and leave his nets and follow Him, during all the time that he had witnessed his Master’s mighty works and listened to the words of eternal life that fell daily from His lips, the living God, the God who acts and intervenes in the affairs of men, had been leading him to see that Jesus was indeed His Son. (Tyndale New Testament Commentary on Matthew)

This is Peter’s confession. And it is this confession that causes a whole host of information and gifts from Jesus. You get to be a part of a church, you get some keys, you get to be able to tell what’s of god and what’s not.

Who do you think Jesus is? Is your confession the same as Peter’s? If it’s not, be honest with yourself why. Is it because you simply don’t see it, or did you have someone’s actions lock you out of the pearly gates?

After a long illness, a woman died and arrived at the Gates of Heaven.
While she was waiting for Saint Peter to greet her, she peeked through the
Gates. She saw a beautiful banquet table. Sitting around were her parents
and all the other people she had loved and who had died before her. They saw
her and began calling greetings to her, "Hello! How are you! We've been
waiting for you! Good to see you!"
When Saint Peter came by, the woman said to him, "This is such a wonderful
place! How do I get in?
"You have to spell a word", Saint Peter told her.
"Which word?" the woman asked.
"Love."
The woman correctly spelled LOVE and Saint Peter welcomed her into Heaven.
About three years later, Saint Peter came to the woman and asked her to
watch the Gates of Heaven for him that day. While the woman was guarding the
Gates of Heaven, her husband arrived. "I'm surprised to see you," the woman
said. "How have you been?"
"Oh, I've been doing pretty well since you died," her husband told her.
"I married the beautiful young nurse who took care of you while you were
ill. And then I won the lottery. I sold the little house you and I lived in
and bought a big mansion. And my wife and I traveled all around the
world. We were on vacation and I went water skiing today. I fell, the ski
hit my head, and here I am. How do I get in?"
"You have to spell a word", the woman told him.
"Which word?" her husband asked.
~~
"Czechoslovakia."

Do we have the power to lock the gate? According to the bible our actions can stand in the way of people entering heaven. The evil priests in their desire to control the monasteries in the early 14th century locked people out of the gates. This idea of frauds manipulating and blocking access to the gates of heaven is spoken about in Matthew 23. But woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! Because you shut up the Kingdom of Heaven against men; for you don't enter in yourselves, neither do you allow those who are entering in to enter. It then goes on to describe how they do this by concentrating on money in place of charity, dishonesty in the place of honesty, as well as control, and the adherence of rules above mercy and justice.

I ask again: “is your understanding of Jesus based on the messed up nature of someone in the faith?” Have they stiff armed you with the mandate of religious expression, when all you needed was mercy? If this is the case, I’m sorry. Nothing is sadder or more detrimental in its results than the perversion of religion. Like a cancer that moves through ones body taking over and maligning a physical expression of who you are; replacing the charity, the mercy, and the common sense of God’s love with greed, control, and fear is one of the most grievous killers of non, new and old believers alike.

Its no wonder that Jesus with great emphasis said Mt 18:6 "… whoever causes the downfall of one of these little ones who believe in Me--it would be better for him if a heavy millstone were hung around his neck and he were drowned in the depths of the sea!" We need our religion to reflect the nature of God for who He is, and who He has revealed himself to be. We can’t have our faith exist to make us feel comfortable. The moment you are not challenged in this house, is the moment that you need to consider if this is the right place for you. Are we enabling you to not express yourself through charity, through mercy, or through love? There’s plenty to do. There are plenty of people around to get to know and love. In fact there are probably some new people that you haven’t told your story to.

That reminds me of a story of a good deed one guy did.
A fellow finds himself in front of the Pearly Gates. Peter explains that its not so easy to get in heaven.
There are some criteria before entry is allowed.
For example, was the man religious in life? Attend church? No?
St. Peter told him that's bad.
Was he generous? give money to the poor? Charities? No?
St. Peter told him that that too was bad.
Did he do any good deeds? Help his neighbor? Anything? No?
St. Peter was becoming concerned. Exasperated, Peter says, "Look, everybody does something nice sometime.
Work with me, I'm trying to help. Now think!"

The man says, "There was this old lady. I came out of a store and found her surrounded by a dozen Hell's Angels. They had taken her purse and were shoving her around, taunting and abusing her. I got so mad I threw my bags down, fought through the crowd, and got her purse back. I then helped her to her feet. I then went up to the biggest, baddest biker and told him how despicable, cowardly and mean he was and then spat in his face".

"Wow", said Peter, "That's impressive. When did this happen"?
"Oh, about 10 minutes ago", replied the man.

Jesus told Peter he is blessed because he knew who he was. And because of that he will get the keys to the kingdom of heaven and be able to see what is of God and what isn’t. (bind and loose) But what are these keys that Jesus talks about here? I have an idea of perhaps what one of these keys is to the gates of heaven. And no, I don’t think it’s just Peter who has them, but anyone who confesses that Jesus is the Christ. One key that I know opens up the heart of eternity… is your story. Your story is something that carries with it great anguish, difficulty, and hardship. The truth and honesty of where you’ve been and where you are and what you’ve learned is something that is truly real. We all live in this world of difficulty. But as you begin to share your story, what you’ve learned, and who you are today, something happens. The person who is interested in your story begins to have knowledge of your journey. There are parts of your story that might be confusing, but there are parts of your story that have the potential to unlock a piece of eternity for that person. Say you have a story about giving, say you have a story of hope, say you have a story that isn’t finished yet but even that tension holds the mystery of the living God.

In your world of death, you have been given a word of life. Your word of life is your key to opening the gates of heaven to those around you. We have the power to stand in the way of these pearly gates or even lock them up so no one can get in. But God is calling us to something different this morning. Not hiding behind religious talk and the need to mold others into our comfort zone, rather, God is calling us to view the world of death that continues to surround us in full honesty. And begin to tell our story of those instances in which we have been rescued, saved, or even seen the fabric of eternity. For it is these words of life that will unlock a glimmering portal to another world: a world that holds context to a loving God who views you in midst of your world of death and says “I will take these dry bones and make them live!”

Incidentally this is the final thought in the core values of the Bridge. “share what we have learned with anyone who is interested.” This goes for us sharing what we do at the bridge with other churches, businesses, and people in general. But my take on it this morning is the only way for us to really get a good picture of who God is and the Kingdom that we’re a part of, we must hear each other’s story. Our story is our key to those ever fabled pearly gates. But your story is not your key, its mine, and when I listen to you, those gates will open that much more.

Thanks for listening. Please stick around and hear someone’s story.