Matthew 2:1-12

“On entering the house, they saw the child with Mary his mother; and they knelt down and paid him homage. Then, opening their treasure chests, they offered him gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh.”

There is an Italian legend of an old woman who travels the night sky on Epiphany Eve, bringing sweets and toys to the good children and coal to the bad ones. She is often depicted as a witch with a black scarf on her head, carrying a sack or a basket, and riding on a broom. The legend of La Bafana has an unknown origin but has meaning for us today.

Like most legends, hers has become complicated. There is a belief that she is of pre-Christian origin, but today, we will stick to how La Befana and the Wise Men come together.

La Befana is said to live in a mountain cave outside a city. One day, three strange men came to visit her. They were from a far-off land and were following a star searching for a child who had been born. They told her they had brought gifts for the child and asked if she knew where this child might be. La Befana was very busy cleaning, and she told them she did not know and ran them off.

Later, she regretted her decision and decided to find these men from the East. She packed gifts for the child, mounted her broom, and flew off searching for the visitors. She did not see them or the child they sought, but she had all these gifts. La Befana decided to stop off at other places with the children and leave the gifts for them.

Our Scripture lesson from Matthew, which we heard this morning, tells us what happened to these men from the East. They found what they were looking for and more.

We know very little about these men from the biblical account. Their story only appears in Matthew’s Gospel and is vague. Matthew calls them “wise men from the East” and never mentions their occupation or number. Traditional Western Christians set their number at three, corresponding to the number of gifts they bring. Still, Eastern Christianity, specifically the Syriac tradition, has 12, corresponding to the 12 days of Christmas.

They are essential to the story regardless of who or what they are.

We also do not know when they will arrive. Again, Matthew only says this event took place in the time of King Herod, roughly 72 BCE to 4 BCE. Some scholars believe the Wise Men came many years after the birth event and visited him in a house that was not stable. Scripture tells us that upon hearing the news of the child’s birth, Herod orders the slaughter of all male children under two years of age, which would point to the idea that this even took place up to two years after Jesus’ birth. Still, the exact time and place do not matter; they came, which is essential.

The research will suggest that these men did come from the East. By the 3rd century, they had been identified as Kings, which would conform with Christian interpretations of prophecies in the Hebrew Scriptures that Kings would worship the Messiah.

Matthew calls them Magos in Greek, from which we derive the Latin term Magi. Mago comes from Old Persian magus, which refers to the Iranian priestly class of Zoroastrianism. They were known for their ability to read the stars and gained an international reputation for astrology. By the way, the word Magi is where we get the English word Magic.

Again, there is no evidence that they were Kings, and the first English reference to such was the interpretation of the word “Magi” in the King James Bible, probably to lessen the idea that these men were astrologers. The Reformer John Calvin thought that these men were not kings and that the term was invented to sanitize the story and make it more acceptable in society.

Although Matthew does not provide their names, several legends give their names, as Melchior, Caspar, and Balthazar. The most notable of these legends come from an 8th-century Latin text and the apocryphal text, The Acts of Saint Thomas.

Matthew gives only the evidence of their place of origin from the “East,” but using the name Magi points to the Parthian Empire centered in Iran. This is an integral part of the story because the Parthian Empire was known for tolerating other religions and religious practices. It is also important to note that these men are usually depicted as being of various ages and races, which will become important later.

Matthew tells us that when they found Jesus, they entered the house and knelt down to worship him. This is where the practice of kneeling in worship comes from. Jewish worship, where most of our Christian practice comes from, did not include kneeling or prostrating; all those Christian practices came from the Magi worshipping Jesus. One might argue that kneeling in worship is as old as Christianity itself.

The gifts are significant as well. All three were ordinary, and the usual gifts were offered when one paid homage to a king. These men knew this child was not some ordinary child and brought the appropriate gifts.

These gifts also have spiritual significance: gold symbolizes earthly kingship, frankincense, in the form of incense, symbolizes deity, and myrrh, an oil used for anointing, symbolizes death. This is where we get another of our Christian traditions. Incense is used in worship, signifying our prayers being lifted to God, and myrrh is often an essential ingredient in the oil used for anointing the sick and other rituals.

In my message on Christmas Eve, I pointed out that all of creation was present at the birth of Jesus. Animals and shepherds were there to worship this tiny baby that would transform the world. The men from the East signify another aspect of it all, that the message of Christ was to transcend not only geography but also culture, time, place, race, and religion.

These men were on pilgrimage; they had searched the sky for a sign and found it. They were seekers like many of us are or have been. It is interesting to note that these men practiced a religion that the Christian Church would later condemn as witchcraft, yet they were among the first to not only pay homage but bring gifts and humble themselves by kneeling to worship. This may be why La Befana is often depicted as a witch.

Later in Matthew’s Gospel, Jesus preaches to a gathering of people on a hillside. This is often called the sermon on the mount, where the beatitudes come from. These beatitudes are central Christian teachings, and it is essential to note that people of multiple races, ages, genders, and even religions were on that hillside. Jerusalem was a crossroads for trade, and people from all over the world would come and pass through it. The message of Jesus is for everyone, not just those we think fit into a specific mold or way of life.

Each person present that night and in the days after was a seeker of a sort. Something drew them in and brought them to the place where they found Jesus. Many came with nothing, only an openness to what was possible, and others came with precious gifts. Regardless of what they brought, they all came and worshipped and, no doubt, left changed.

Everyone is invited to God’s party, even those who have been traveling radically different paths. Those who have made this journey many times in their lives are invited to take a new look at Jesus and his message of love and acceptance of all, not just some. It is important to remember Jesus’ saying, “The last shall be first, and the first will be last.”

It is important to remember that this was not an ordinary birth, and by that, I do not suggest anything to do with the supernatural circumstances of how they found themselves where they were. The birth story reminds us that the creator became part of creation to show us a different way to live. But it is also a story that invites everyone to come; whether you are a shepherd or king, young or old, astrologer or believer, there is a place for you at the table.

The story of the Magi reminds us that God initiates the call to come and find, to knock, and to seek. Our job is to come with an open mind to find a story that might challenge our traditional beliefs about many things. The Magi’s journey to seek the child exposes God’s intention to welcome everyone “into the joy of God’s hoe not made with hands, but eternal in the heavens” and, remarkably, on earth as well. Amen.

“What do you want me to do for you?” The blind man said to him, “My teacher, let me see again.”

In 1779, a new hymn book was published in rural England. At a time when printing was not easily accessible, it was not uncommon for a local congregation to publish its own hymnal for Sunday use in that church. But this hymnal contained a special hymn that would eventually become so well known that it is estimated to be performed 10 million times per year.

This hymn was written by John Newton, who was raised without any particular religious conviction. His life took many twists and turns based on what others thought he should do. He reluctantly joined the Royal Navy and, after leaving service, became involved in the Atlantic slave trade.

In 1748, a violent storm battered his ship off the County Donegal, Ireland, coast. So severe was this storm that he called out to God for help and mercy. Although this moment marked his conversion, he continued in the slave trade until about 1755, when he gave up his seafaring career altogether.

Newton began studying Christian theology and became an abolitionist. He was ordained in the Anglican Church in 1764 and assigned to the rural parish of Olney. While there, he met the poet William Cowper, and the two began to write hymns.

The relatively unknown hymn I mentioned earlier is Amazing Grace, and it was written to accompany a sermon Newtown preached on New Year’s Day 1773. It is unclear if there was any music that accompanied the words. It was common practice for hymns to be chanted by the congregation rather than sung to any particular tune. One of the many artifacts we have in the display case at the back of the church is a plainchant hymnal from the very early days of our congregation.

Amazing Grace was unknown until it started to be used in the early 19th century by Baptist and Methodist preachers as part of evangelization during what is known as the Second Great Awakening. America was coming to grips with the horrors of slavery and the Civil War and was looking for answers and redemption for the sins committed not only individually but nationally.

Amazing Grace is a song about redemption and forgiveness, and it reminds us that both are possible regardless of the sins we have committed. God’s All-Sufficient Grace can deliver the soul from despair if we just open our eyes.

If there was ever a time that we needed to hear the message of Amazing Grace, it is now!

Today, the writer of Mark’s Gospel introduces us to Bartimaeus son of Timaeus. This story of the healing of Bartimaeus appears in all three of the synoptic Gospels, although Mark is the only one who gives the blind man a name. Naming is important in Scripture, and we need to pay close attention to it.

Jesus and his Disciples were in Jerico, and as they were leaving, a blind man called out to him, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!” Bartimaeus had heard about Jesus and thought that this was his big chance to obtain his sight. Not wanting to cause a problem, those around him tried to silence him, but it only made him shout louder, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!”

Jesus stops, calls the man to him, and asks him, “What do you want me to do for you?” Bartimaeus replies to Jesus, “My teacher, let me see again.” That word “again” is going to prove very important.

This passage from Mark is only seven verses long, but it is filled to the brim with meaning if we just open our eyes to see past the magic that is taking place.

This is the last of the healing stories in Mark. Healing stories, like all the miracles of Jesus, contain a much deeper meaning than we see on the surface, and this one is no exception. Typically, the person being healed is not mentioned, which usually means the story is meant for all; it is an amalgamation of healing that had taken place. This is not to say that Jesus did not heal people; rather, the Scriptures contain only a small section of what Jesus did.

The man is named Bartimaeus, son of Timaeus. The name is interesting as Bartimaeus literally means son of Timaeus. Again, it is unusual that the man is named at all, and his name is a strange Semitic-Greek hybrid. Scholars agree that this person is a reference to an actual person from history.

But is it the person in front of Jesus, or is it someone else?

Some scholars point to Timaeus in Plato’s works, who delivers Plato’s most important cosmological and theological treatise, which involves sight as the foundation of knowledge. If you have read Plato, you understand that sight was an essential part of his philosophy, and we must look for answers before we can find understanding.

But there is more. When Bartimaeus stands to walk to Jesus, Mark tells us that he “throws off his cloak.” Keep in mind that everything written has meaning; nothing is put in Scripture just to take up space. Bartimaeus not only removes his cloak but also “throws it off,” signifying he will no longer need it. He also signifies that he is throwing off all his possessions to follow Jesus. This is to remind those around him, and especially his Disciples, of the need to rid ourselves of those things that hold us back.

Bartimaeus’ response to Jesus’ questioning is that he wants to see again. So, Bartimaeus was not blind from birth but lost his sight at some point for an unknown reason. The ancients believed that there was a connection between our health and our sin. Was it something he did that caused his blindness? Was it something that someone else did that caused it?

Blindness in Scripture is often a metaphor for spiritual blindness or being blind to Jesus’ message of love and acceptance. For sight to be recovered, we must first acknowledge that we are blind, and only then can we seek solutions and healing.

But we can be blind to many things, especially things that do not directly involve us, like the suffering and pain of others. It is easy to shut ourselves up in our own world and keep others out. If we close our eyes tight enough, it will go away.

What else blinds us? There is some truth to the idea that sin can cause blindness. When we are filled with hate, we are blind to the truth. Far too often, people believe that narrative is placed before them, blinding us to the truth. When people say what we want to hear and hate the same people we hate, we become blind, and our blindness causes all sorts of problems.

But before we start to feel all righteous in our position, know that righteousness can also blind us. Just because we have the right beliefs does not give us a license to ignore or disdain those who do not. If we are to obey Jesus’ command to love all, then we have to be willing to see the other and to listen. People suffer for all sorts of reasons. We may not agree with how they express their suffering, but that does not diminish the fact that they are suffering.

Yes, our own ignorance can cause us suffering, but sometimes, we need someone to help us find our way back. Love is the best way to help someone regain their sight.

Bartimaeus acknowledged that he was blind and needed help to change his life. He acknowledged Jesus’ kingship and asked him to help him regain his sight. Bartimaeus cried out in faith and despair, just like John Newton did on the deck of that ship. In both cases, God reached out his hand and provided what was needed.

Jesus tells Bartimaeus that his “faith has made him well.” Bartimaeus received his sight but did not go away; he followed Jesus. Newton’s life was changed, not instantly, but from one of slavery to service, and that service continues to this day.

How many lives have been changed by Amazing Grace? The song is popular not only in religious circles but also in secular circles. My guess is it would be hard to find someone who has never heard the words, “Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound that saved a wretch like me.” I was lost, but now I’m found. I was blind, but now I see.

What blinds us? Whatever it is, know that God’s all-sufficient Grace can restore your sight. All we need to do is ask.

Amen.

Mark 10:35-45

“…but whoever wishes to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wishes to be first among you must be slave of all.”

Perhaps you have heard that there is a rather important event coming up on November 5th. Although I will never tell you who to vote for, I will point out the importance of exercising that right of citizenship, and please vote. I am sure I will make the same plea in the coming weeks.

But with the election on the horizon, I have turned my thoughts to what comes after—what happens in the days and weeks after November 5th? What happens after the confetti has fallen and the speeches have been made? In every election, some win, and those, whether they choose to believe it or not, lose.

Regardless of what happens on election day or in the days after, life will go on.

It has been said that we are more divided now than we were prior to the Civil War. I am a student of that period of our history from a theological perspective, and by that, I mean what role did the church play in the events leading up to and after the war?

We are called United Methodists largely due to the split before the war. The theological and ideological split divided the church along northern and southern lines. It took only a few years to break apart, but it took more than 100 to come back together, and it is still not fully restored.

For the last couple of weeks, I have been wrestling with this question of what’s next and what our role should be in what’s next.

In Paul’s Letter to the Hebrews, he writes to the church about the type of leaders we should want and what we should be. Paul writes that the High Priest does not perform his duties for his own glory but for the glory of God, “…one does not presume to take this honor, but takes it only when called by God.” But Paul also reminds those he is writing to that the High Priest is a human and suffers from the same weaknesses that we all do, sometimes more.

Two weeks ago, I had the pleasure of participating in an ordination service in Plymouth. It has been several years since I attended an ordination service, and it was nice to be reminded of the obligation we take when we submit to being set apart for leadership in God’s Church.

The first lesson is leadership, not about us. None of this can be about us. In last week’s lesson from Mark, the Rich Young Man calls Jesus “Good Teacher,” and Jesus rebukes him. “No one is good except God,” Jesus tells the man. Jesus constantly and consistently points away from himself and towards God. When they want to make him King, he runs away. When he faces temptation in the desert and is offered everything, he turns it down. None of this is about me.

The second lesson is that to be leaders, we first have to be servants. A true leader must be willing to wash the feet of those they lead. Some of the best leaders I have had in my military service have stood beside me in the rain and mud. The leader who does not wish to get dirty is no leader, and the leader who is aloof is no leader.

Marks’s Gospel sums it up rather nicely for us today, “…but whoever wishes to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wishes to be first among you must be slave of all.” And Jesus continues, “For the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve.” Must be a slave of who? All. Not some, not just the ones we like, but all.

Here is that radical Jesus again telling me that I have to love everyone and now serve them. This message is for us as individuals and for the church.

The church is at its best when it serves as a moral compass. I am not talking about forcing people to think a certain way or even to force conformity upon them, but rather offering an alternative and providing forgiveness and reconciliation. And doing it all with grace and love.

But the church is also at her best when she speaks the truth in love and rebukes. We must never compromise for the sake of unity. Jesus was all about bringing people together, but he was also aware that there were those who would not wish to come together.

After Jesus told the Rich Young Man that he would have to sell everything to follow him, the man turned and walked away. Jesus did not chase after him, nor did Jesus change his mind; he let the man walk away. Part of leadership is recognizing when it is time to let people go and watch them walk away. But we should never close the door because they might come back one day.

The question remains: what do we do?

Can we reconcile? Should we reconcile? Can we repair relationships? Should those relationships be repaired?

I will admit that I don’t know, but I believe we have to try.

Not too far from here, out there in the harbor, stands a light that has been warning mariners about the dangers in the area but also lighting the way to safety. A lighthouse is a symbol of hope, a sign that just past the light, we will find sanctuary from the storm, a place of refuge from all that troubles us. The church can and should be that lighthouse, lighting the way to hope in the present and the future.

The sign that stands in front of our building boldly claims that we are a reconciling congregation. That means that, as a community, we decided to come to grips with the past hurts and divisions we have caused and promise not to cause those same hurts in the future. It is a recognition that we are not perfect, but God’s all-sufficient grace will help us get there.

But if that sign is to have any real meaning, we have to live out that principle of reconciliation in all aspects of our lives as individuals and as the church. We must be willing to open our doors to all, not just some.

The twelve that Jesus picked to help him were the most unlikely bunch ever assembled. Among them was one who despised the government and everything it stood for, but their number also included a tax collector, one who represented that government.

There was Judas, who never understood nor appreciated what Jesus was doing and would eventually turn him in. My friend Peter, who was bold in his faith and proclamation of who Jesus was and is, and of whom Jesus said that his faith was like a rock, would deny Jesus to save his own skin.

The two we encountered today were James and John, the sons of Zebedee, boldly asking to be put in seats of glory. And then, when Jesus needed them most, they all abandoned him. These twelve were imperfect, but they were able to spread the message of love and acceptance to the farthest reaches of the world.

All of this is possible if we are willing to humble ourselves and be of service to others. We bring about reconciliation through love and peace, but it all begins with us and our ability to reconcile and forgive.

We have a great and important task before us, and we must be ready. Our work will not end next month; it is only beginning.

Amen

2 Samuel 11:1-15

The passage from Second Samuel could be ripped from the headlines of any newspaper. We have a leader who we think is superhuman, almost Divine, who turns out to be just like the rest of us: a sinner. Remember, the Israelites believe David has been chosen by God to lead them and, as such, should be above all this petty human stuff.

The scene opens with David planning a battle. Scripture says spring is “the time when kings go to war.” But David decides it is not his place to lead his army, so he goes up on the roof of his palace. While up there, he spies a woman, reportedly the most beautiful woman he has ever seen. She is taking a ritual bath for purification, and rather than look away, David decides to watch.

David sends one of his advisors to find out who she is and report back to him. He asks her to visit with him, and one thing leads to another, and the woman, Bathsheba, ends up pregnant. Now, I know it is hard to believe a leader would have an affair, but there it is.

The King sends for the woman’s husband, Uriah, one of his generals. They have a conversation about why Uriah did not go home after his last battle, and Uriah tells him that it would not be fair for him to return home while his subordinates were unable to. Uriah is a good leader, maybe a great leader, as he thinks about the comfort of those under him before his own.

As you know, I have spent most of my adult life in the military. I enlisted right out of high school and have continued with my service, with a few breaks here and there. When I was an enlisted man, it used to make me angry when we were sleeping on the ground, and the officers were on cots, having their meals served to them. The higher up the chain you went, the more privilege that position carried with it.

The best officers, and the ones we were willing to do anything for, were the ones who thought about us first. They ensured we had everything we needed or could get, and then they concerned themselves with their needs. This is a theory I have carried with me as I have risen through the ranks. Yes, being a leader has certain privileges, but with that privilege comes a lot of responsibility.

By all accounts, Uriah was this type of leader and David did not seem to understand why he did not avail himself of the privilege of his position. David’s privilege and sin led him to take the steps we read about at the end of today’s story. “In the morning David wrote a letter to Joab and sent it by the hand of Uriah. In the letter he wrote, ‘Set Uriah in the forefront of the hardest fighting, and then draw back from him, so that he may be struck down and die.’” Make it look like an accident.

If you are keeping score, David has now broken three of the top ten: covetous, adultery, and murder. If there were anyone in need of a confession, it would be David. But what about Uriah? This is not the last time we hear about him. Uriah is mentioned in the Gospel of Matthew, right at the beginning, in the Genealogy of Jesus. Amongst the names, we read, “David was the father of Solomon, whose mother had been Uriah’s wife.” There is no mention of the mother’s name, but there is Uriah, who was killed because of David’s sin.

I wonder if he was buried on a golf course. But I digress.

It has been said that confession is good for the soul. I have not met anyone who truly enjoys confession. No one likes to think about the things they have done wrong. It is not proper to talk about sin. We have almost removed that word from our lexicon, and we excuse sin away in ourselves and in those we choose to lead us.

When I began ministry, I was part of a church that practiced sacramental confession. Each week, I would make myself available for folk to come to the church for confession. Now, just to clear up a few misconceptions, in confession, the person is not confessing their sins to the priest; the priest is there only as a witness. We confess to God, we have been forgiven by God, and we are loved by God.

From a psychological standpoint, there is something therapeutic about admitting our faults in the presence of another human being. Having a caring person listen, perhaps offering some words of reassurance or guidance, helps us on the road to healing. In many ways, confession is therapy if the person standing with you is good at what they do.

During Lent, it was common for most people to come to confession. Before confessions began, I would mention that since there were so many people, unless there was a particular issue you needed help with, you just hit the highlights. There was one who would come every year. We would go through the opening, and then I would ask if there was anything they would like to confess. Each time, the answer was the same: no, nothing.

Confession is not easy. Admitting we have faults is not easy, but from a spiritual point of view, confession is necessary. I am not advocating confession to another person, but admitting that we are all sinners and have fallen short is the first step.

When I first came here, I got some pushback on using a prayer of confession in the service. I mean, we are good people after all; we are not sinners. The prayer sometimes involves us saying things that we feel aren’t true.

“We have not done your will, we have broken your law, we have rebelled against your love, and we have not heard the cry of the needy.”

Isn’t that a bit much? We are a loving community; we pay attention to and are engaged in missions with the needy. Why do we need to beat our chest and claim that we are not doing this when we are? Worship is supposed to be a happy experience; I am supposed to feel better about myself when I come out of worship, not worse. Let’s just skip over the whole confession thing.

Except. We do gather each week with regrets. Maybe not on David’s scale; we haven’t arranged a murder to cover up an adulterous affair. But we have occasionally wounded those we love with unkind words or hurtful acts. We have walked or driven past someone seeking something from us and pretended we didn’t see them when, in fact, we did, but we have felt helpless in the face of the systems of poverty. We come carrying burdens that sometimes feel overwhelming to us, and when all we do is set them aside while we sing praises to God, we walk away with those same burdens, guilt, and sin. That is why we need confession. Even when the words of the corporate prayer don’t quite mirror our personal experience, there is space to offer our own prayers.

The worst thing we can do is try to justify our behavior. For centuries, theologians and biblical scholars have tried to explain away David’s behavior. As one might imagine, the blame is placed on Bathsheba. They claim she was too beautiful, and David could not control himself. We find this same thinking when it comes to rules about how women should dress or how victims of rape or other sexual crimes are treated. We spin it off the man and onto the woman. This behavior is certainly something that needs to be confessed.

When we come to worship, we bring our whole selves, all of us, our wants, hopes, desires, and even our sins. What have we done, and what have we left undone? How have we used our power and our privilege? Have we built up or broken-down God’s kingdom? Have we loved our neighbor?

None of these questions is meant to make us feel bad about ourselves. When we confess, we lay our burdens down and leave them behind. Here is where we come and offer all these things to God, who loves us. Here in this place, we find forgiveness and not judgment for what we have or have not done. Here is where we can leave our past behind and start new. Each week, we have the opportunity for a do-over. We have an opportunity to ask God to forgive our shortcomings and help us do better and be better in the future. Do not let the opportunity pass you by.

Amen.

2 Corinthians 12:2-10

Amazing grace. How sweet the sound. That saved a wretch like me. I once was lost. But now, I’m found. Was blind, but now, I see.

How many times have we sung this song? If I had to guess, I would say hundreds, if not thousands. But when we sing it, do we listen to the words? Do we understand the meaning those words are trying to convey?

Written by John Newton in the 18th century, Amazing Grace appears in more than 1,200 hymnals. By comparison, “Silent Night” appears in 536 hymnals, and the great Charles Wesley hymn, “O for a thousand tongues to sing,” is found in more than 1,500. The difference is that “Amazing Grace” has transcended the hymnal, and the 1971 version by Judy Collins made the top 10 charts. No other hymn can make that claim.

“Amazing Grace” is the song most people turn to to find comfort and strength when they are at their lowest. People of all faiths know at least the first verse, and so it is often sung at ecumenical gatherings. One lasting image from September 11 is the firefighters, police, EMTs, and all the rest joining hands and hearts at ground zero and singing “Amazing Grace” together.

Twas grace that taught my heart to fear and grace, my fears relieved. How precious did that grace appear the hour I first believed.

This morning, we heard a portion of Paul’s letter to his Church in Corinth. The Church is divided. The people are in open rebellion against his leadership. Others have come claiming to be “super-apostles” and teaching against what Paul taught them. They have come to town, boasting of a higher apostolic authority than Paul and accusing Paul of being weak, “untrained in speech,” a slanderer, and an imposter.

Paul has a public relations problem and needs to find a solution. Paul speaks of a “revelation” he has had but cannot find the words to describe it. How can you describe the indescribable?

When Mr. Spock tries to save the Enterprise in the 1982 movie Star Trek: The Wrath of Kahn, he dies doing his duty. He is placed in a capsule and shot onto a planet. In essence, they bury him. However, in the next movie, that planet becomes the site of the Genesis experiment, and the planet and Mr. Spock are regenerated. He is brought back to life and rejoins the crew.

Later in the movie, Doctor McCoy approaches Spock and wishes to engage him in a discussion of the afterlife. After all, he has truly gone where no one had before and returned. Spock tells McCoy that having such a conversation with a common phrase of reference would be impossible. In other words, McCoy would have to die and come back to understand what Spock experienced. Paul is having the same issue. How can Paul speak about what he has seen when no one else can?

Now, I have my issues with Paul, but his humility is not one of those issues. Paul is always hesitant to talk about himself after he tells his audience why they should listen to him. He tells his story not from a position of boasting but rather from a place of grace. Paul has experienced what only a few have: spiritual ecstasy, and he is hesitant to speak about it. His reward is that he is made fun of and called a liar.

Paul tells his Church that he will only boast “in his weakness.” To an American ear, this is hard to hear. We are constantly told that we must be strong. We are the greatest nation on earth. From the time they were little boys, we were told not to show emotion; emotion is weakness, and men must be strong. Any sign of caring for others is weakness or, better yet, “woke.” We must crush our enemies at all costs.

Then along comes Paul, who says, not so fast; it is not our strength that we should celebrate but our weakness. Paul had turned the whole thing on its head! I mean, how strong can a faith be where the leader of that faith willingly dies and the ultimate prize, if there is one, is death?

What is grace?

John Wesley defines grace as God’s undeserving gift, God’s free, underserved favor bestowed upon humanity. During creation, God spoke everything into existence. God separated the light from the darkness, land and water, sea and sky, all with a word. God created every plant and animal with his voice, but when it came to humanity, God paused. God stooped down, gathered the dust of what was just created, and formed humanity. With God’s own hands, humankind was created.

But God did not stop there. God breathed God’s breath, the breath of life, into the nostrils of this new creation. Some believe this to be the soul of humanity and that one is not truly alive until one takes one’s first breath. But either way, God put God’s very breath into humankind. God created humanity with God’s own hands in God’s image. The gift of life is grace.

The United Methodist Book of Discipline defines grace as “the underserved, unmerited, and loving action of God in human existence through the ever-present Holy Spirit.”

Grace pervades all of creation. Grace is God’s presence to create, heal, forgive, reconcile, and transform human hearts, communities, and creation. Wherever God is present, grace is present.

It was grace that brought creation into being. It is grace that bestows upon humanity God’s divine image. Grace redeems us through Jesus Christ and continually transforms the whole of creation. Continually transforms the whole of creation. Continually transforms. Transformation. It is grace, God’s sufficient and redeeming grace, that will transform the world and begin with our own transformation.

Paul speaks of a “thorn in his flesh.” There has been much speculation as to what this thorn is. Is it physical, spiritual, or mental? Paul does not say what it is, but it is enough of a problem that he mentions it, and it transforms him and his ministry. In many ways, this is Paul’s weakness.

Whatever it is, Paul calls it a “messenger of Satan,” and he believes that it has been sent to him to torment him and to keep him humble. Paul says he has prayed three times for God to remove this thorn, but God replied, “My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness.”

Through many dangers, toils and snares we have already come. ‘Twas grace that brought us safe thus far, and grace will lead us home.

I do not hold to the image of a being called Satan. Is there evil in the world? Yes, there is. Are there evil people in the world? Well, that is a little more complex. Everyone is born with a clean slate, a “Tabula rasa,” and we learn everything.

At our core, humanity is good. After each “day” of creation, God stepped back and said, it is good. Humanity was included in that. What corrupts humanity is what we learn. We are not born to hate, to discriminate, to make fun of, and all the rest. All of that comes from fear and lack of understanding. So, no, there are no evil people, but there are evil actions.

The first thing evil does is divide. Evil creates an environment of distrust, which causes derision to take hold. Evil must have an enemy, something to focus on, so evil creates an enemy, usually a scapegoat to use as a way in. It might be a person; it might be an issue, but whatever it is, it will exploit it to the point of division. I might add that the problem does not have to be a big issue; sometimes, the minor issue causes the most significant division.

This is the place Paul has found himself, in the middle of a divided community. But notice that Paul comes in not as a lion but as a gentle shepherd. He does not boast of his strength but rather the opposite. Paul speaks of his weakness, and, reading between the lines a little, Paul takes the blame. Paul is the leader, and ultimately, the leader is the one responsible.

So, what does Paul do to get them back on track? Paul teaches them about humility, not humiliation but humility. Paul reminds them that they are all created in the divine image and that, at our core, we are good. No one is beyond redemption. If they have breath, they are capable of change.

Paul calls them to pray—for each other and for him—but notice how Paul speaks of prayer. Paul prays that God’s will be done. Paul is echoing the words Jesus prayed in the garden the night before his crucifixion. In the end, Jesus submitted his will to God and prayed that God’s will be done. There is power in surrender.

When we surrender our will, when we realize we don’t know what’s best in every situation, we make room for God’s grace to move in and through our lives. For us to be “conformed to the image of God’s son,” we must surrender our will so that God’s purpose for us may be fulfilled.

Surrender is not easy, and surrender is not weakness but strength.

But surrender does not mean we give up; it means the opposite: we work and work hard. We pray, and we get to work. Evil is well established and well organized, but it can be defeated, not on our own but by God. The light will prevail in the darkness.

We can never lose hope. God’s grace gives us hope. So far, we have survived 100% of our worst days, and we are still here. Jesus never promised it would be easy; he said it would be hard, but the promise is that we will never walk through it alone.

When we’ve been there ten thousand years bright shining as the sun. We’ve no less days to sing God’s praise than when we first begun. Then when we first begun.

Amen