When baptising a baby the last thing you want as a set reading is Luke 14 where Jesus says “If anyone comes to me and does not hate his father and mother, his wife and children, his brothers and sisters — yes, even his own life — he cannot be my disciple.” Yet what a child will become, the kind of person they will be and the kind of world they will live in is surely of the utmost importance. This sermon offers no easy answers, but discipleship of Jesus and a life of questions where God is with us on the journey.
This sermon included a poem by Jude Simpson read at the 2010 Greenbelt Festival and broadcast on BBC Radio 4′s Sunday Worship on 5th September 2010. It has been ommitted for copyright reasons, but can be heard in full read by the poet here together with the text. The video is also available below.
The image we have of God effects the way we pray, and the effectiveness of that prayer. The Letter to the Hebrews gives us two images of mountains, and two images of God. One is dark, dangerous, forbidding, dangerous and empty except for God. The other is light, welcoming and the location of a city full of saints and angels. One says “keep out” and the other says “welcome.” What image of God do you have, and how does that effect your prayer life?
Life is stressful, and the world is under stress. Jesus also knew both stress and sorrow in his own life, but he also understood the stress and distress of the world needed facing. In this sermon we see how he dealt with this through single minded, self sacrificial determination.
Sometimes the questions we ask are more important than the answers. Abraham set out on a journey which he did not end, and which we are still on. The letter to the Hebrews makes this clear. Although our destination is important, how we travel is also important, and faith is as much about how we live now as it is about the end promise of heaven. Abraham is held up in the Bible as a supreme example of this journey of faith.
Mary Magdalene is someone who we think we know, but much of it is legend. In the Gospels we discover a marginalised and disregarded woman, a nobody, whose experience of Jesus in her healing and witnessing the resurrection transformed her. What does that say to the marginalised and disregarded today?
Throughout Holy Week I have been celebrating Holy Communion in my three Churches, ending with Maundy Thursday and preparing for Good Friday in the cross. The Eucharist, Lord’s Supper, Mass leads us to the cross on which Jesus died, and helps us understand it. It is central to all Christian worship, yet when John’s Gospel tells us about the meal Jesus shared with his disciples the night before he was betrayed he omits the actual breaking of bread and the words of Jesus, “this is my body,” “this is my blood.” Instead John shows Jesus washing his disciples feet, and commanding them to love one another. What does John in his Gospel want to teach us about the Eucharist, and about the cross?
Judas Iscariot is a man who has given up hope, and whose life ends in tragedy. Mary, with her sister Martha and brother Lazarus, is a woman of hope who finds in Jesus resurrection and life. Which are we? A sermon for Passion Sunday on the death of a much loved Church member.
A son who wants to leave home with his inheritance, a father who lets him do it without regard to the effect is has on the rest of the family, a jealous brother who feels ignored, and a mother who is absent from the scene. A parable not just of a prodigal son, but a broken family where each member is invisible to the other, but not to God.
Jesus refused to be distracted, keeping on his path to Jerusalem and the cross. How can we prevent ourselves from being distracted from God’s purposes in our journey of discipleship? A tale of a fox, a hen (and a buzzard!)
Lent is more than giving up chocolate. It is a time when Christians hone the skills we need to be disciples of Jesus 365 days a year, 24 hours a day. In Lent we concentrate on fasting, praying and giving that we may gain greater awareness of God and our neighbour. It is not about grovelling, but becoming.
