How Can I Know I’m “Saved”? (A Mustard Seed Musing)

Posted on November 11, 2013 by Jacob Sahms

A month ago, I visited with a friend who was struggling. I know emotionally and physically, my friend had been taxed by the recent months, but I didn’t know how spiritually it had impacted him. And then, my friend dropped “the bomb”:

“I don’t know if I’m saved.” 

Through his tears, I asked him what he meant, while my mind was spinning. How could he feel this way? He was an anchor in his church, the kind of person everyone else could count on for a dose of steadfastness and reality mixed into a never-miss-a-Sunday kind of service. 

But he didn’t have “the moment.” That situation where his “heart was strangely warmed” (John Wesley) or his road-to-Damascas moment (Apostle Paul) had never happened, and now, in the midst of his struggles, he worried that maybe he hadn’t ever gotten “it.”

The truth is though, that one of the disservices that the church has done is to present the good news of Jesus Christ in a way that emphasizes the moments, rather than the journey. We promote altar calls and conversion experiences, and fail to see that sometimes, the way of following Jesus is gradual… or that we could be born for it.

This fixation on “the moment” drove me to wonder what was wrong with me in college, while my peers were experiencing conversions and turning from one life to follow Jesus. Was being raised in a Christian home and actually liking church a disservice? Was I somehow missing something because I went from zero to ten to twenty and so on, rather than zero to sixty?

When you attempt to live by your own religious plans and projects, you are cut off from Christ, you fall out of grace. Meanwhile we expectantly wait for a satisfying relationship with the Spirit. For in Christ, neither our most conscientious religion nor disregard of religion amounts to anything. What matters is something far more interior: faith expressed in love.-Galatians 5:4-6 (The Message)

Paul wrote that as part of his attempt to explain that the Gentile (non-Jewish) churches didn’t have to become Jewish before they could become disciples of Jesus. But it seems like maybe this applies to our Protestant sensibilities where we put conversion higher on the pyramid of faith than it should be. Paul says that our plans, projects, our focusing on religion, and our ignoring religion, do not matter at all; only living out a life of faith in love does. 

Does my life reflect faith? Do I love the unlovable, either by society or by my own standards based on their treatment of me? Do I put the emphasis on what it means to be loved by God and to love God back, or do I think I can be saved through some effort of my own? Do I recognize my need for God in my life or do I think I can do it on my own? 

Ultimately, the distance we run to God doesn’t matter. It only matters that we run to God at all. 

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Free Birds: What’s Your Purpose? (Movie Review)

Posted on November 7, 2013 by Jacob Sahms

[Before I get to my review, let me say this: watching Free Birds will have as much affect on your kids’ eating habits in regards to turkey as watching Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs will make them think that there are giant taco supremes and shrimpanzees that will appear out of the forest. Sorry, I just had to get that out of my system!]

Free Birds is a glorious re-imagining of our American Thanksgiving, where struggling Pilgrims and Native American Indians fellowshipped together over some roasted turkey. When Reggie (Owen Wilson) is chosen as the pardoned turkey by POTUS, thanks in part to the President’s narcoleptic daughter, he is soon turkeynapped by Jake (Woody Harrelson), a turkey who believes the U.S.’ secret time travel device could be used to get turkeys off of the annual holiday menu. Real-life military enforcer of Plymouth Myles Standish (Colm Meaney) provides the main baddie character, and it’s on like a mash-up echoing Braveheart or Chicken Run, depending on which version of Mel Gibson you prefer.

The animation is pretty tight, and the blend of realistic-looking backgrounds melds well with the animated turkeys. The elements of sci-fi like the talking time-traveling ship S.T.E.V.E. (voiced by George Takei) work like an old Star Trek episode, dropping Jake and Reggie in the past, completely out of their element. There are enough adult-level jokes that the older audience was kept plugged in, while the adventure, the “find your destiny” element of the scrawny, underdog Reggie had the kids cheering.

Free Birds isn’t great, but it bridges the gap for animated flicks from Cloudy 2 to Frozen in an otherwise slow animated season. We’re reminded that change requires hard work, that someone, often a put-upon, prophet-type, has to break the cycle to remind a group of people who’ve been held down over time that they can be something different. It reminds me of James Moore’s parable about the Locksmith, and the way that Jesus showed up in a time and place where the religious leaders said they “got” God (but were missing the point).

Sometimes the difference between freedom and tyranny is one person… or turkey.

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Sunday’s Sermon Today: The Prophet’s Message (Jeremiah 7:1-11)

Posted on November 6, 2013 by Jacob Sahms

Have you ever wondered where “don’t shoot the messenger” comes from? There are references in the writing of Plutarch and Shakespeare that show the habit of rulers killing off those who bring bad news from their enemies, or from the battlefront. But it seems like there are plenty of examples from the Old Testament where a ruler or the people attempted to kill one of the prophets of God when God’s message wasn’t to the people’s liking.

As we continue our journey through the Old Testament Scripture today, God tells Jeremiah to proclaim judgment on the people of Judah, that they should “reform your ways and your actions, and I will let you live in this place… If you really change your ways and your actions and deal with each other justly, if you do not oppress the foreigner, the fatherless or the widow and do not shed innocent blood in this place, and if you do not follow other gods to your own harm, then I will let you live in this place, in the land I gave your ancestors for ever and ever.”

The primary purpose of the prophetic voice is to call God’s people to repent. To turn. To change. My biological teacher father likes to scare an unsuspecting group of students that when it comes to evolution that “you’re going to change or you’re gonna die!” (Quite loudly, I might add.)

That’s what the prophets have always challenged the people of God with: that if they don’t change, that they are going to spiritually die. That they may literally die.

Jeremiah’s message proceeds to challenge their spiritual dichotomy, where they steal, murder, commit adultery, lie, and even worship other gods but then come to the Temple and act like that’s enough, “we are safe.” It’s the same Scriptural passage that Jesus will quote when he clears the Temple… We might not burn incense to other gods, but what have we put in the place of real worship, and beyond that, really longing after what God longs after?

Do we go about the other six days of the week however we want, every which way but loose, and then show up and go through the Temple, and assume everything’s “cool” with God? Are our hearts right or are we just fooling ourselves? Are we assuming that because we’ve convinced ourselves, that God is convinced, too?

I think that would be a mistake of colossal proportions!

When we mistreat our neighbors, our families, our friends, knowing full well what God expects, and then show up in church as if everything is smooth sailing, God is not fooled.

When we lust in our hearts after people and stuff that isn’t ours, and are so angry in our hearts that we could kill someone, God is not fooled.

When we elevate our jobs, our possessions, our relationships, and our comfort above worshipping God, and ministering to those in need, God is not fooled.

And as Jeremiah saw firsthand, God’s displeasure can make people pretty uncomfortable.

For his trouble, Jeremiah was thrown in a well, beaten, hung up in the stocks, and put on death row. All because he was called by God to speak the truth, God’s word for the people of God.

Is it still a prophetic voice if the prophet speaks and no one listens? Is that like a tree falling in the forrest, does it make a sound?

Telemachus, a fifth century monk, was a solitary, praying type but he felt called by God to Rome. He followed the crowd of people into the Coliseum for a gladiator battle, and found himself shuddering at the bloodthirstiness of the crowd. He was horrified by the bloodshed, and jumped onto the perimeter wall.

“In the name of Christ, stop!” He yelled, but no one paid any attention, so he jumped into the arena and called it out again. The crowd laughed and the gladiators shoved him to the ground, but he kept coming, pleading with them to stop.

Different retellings of the story say that the crowd stoned him in anger for stopping their entertainment, while others say that a gladiator ran him through with the sword. All of the versions say that the emperor ended the games because the monk-turned-prophet put himself in harms way to end what was wrong with the community.

People don’t like being told that they’re wrong. People don’t like being told that they need to change: none of us do! No one wants to hear that the way that seems good and pleasant to them is not the way of the disciple. It’s easier to whitewash the problem, hope that it’ll go away, and throw the prophet in a well!

People don’t like being told that the way things have always been done (or quite frankly, the way they’ve been done twice in a row), are not the only way to do it. It’s easier to think that church is about us and for us, then to recognize that it’s for God, by God, and through God.

But I John 1:8-9 says, “If we claim to be without sin, we deceive ourselves and the truth is not in us. If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness. If we claim we have not sinned, we make him out to be a liar and his word is not in us.”

It’s easier to hold onto the fuzzy headed baby in the manger than it is to grasp the bloodstained feet of Jesus, isn’t it? It’s far easier to chuckle along with Rickie Bobbie in Talledega Nights than to look at Jim Cavieziel in The Passion of the Christ.

But even while God is not pleased and there was hell to pay, God also promised that when the people came back to where they were supposed to be, that God would forgive them.

God even went so far as to tell Jeremiah to buy land even while he was condemning the people for their evil behavior, that he would bring them back to the land he had promised them. God was promising a day when repentance would happen because the hearts of people would draw near to God.

God understands Paul’s cry in Romans 7:15-17: “I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do. And if I do what I do not want to do, I agree that the law is good. As it is, it is no longer I myself who do it, but it is sin living in me.” God gets us, and knows us, and wants what is best for us.

God didn’t tell Jeremiah to buy land because he was giving up on his people; God told Jeremiah to buy land because God knows we can get ourselves turned around through his grace. God knows what we could be if we saw ourselves from a different perspective.

James Moore tells a parable about a locksmith, who broke into a prison. He found a group of slaves who’d been in prison so long that they thought they were free, and those outside were the ones suffering. The locksmith broke the locks on the doors and pushed the doors open, and the slaves could hear the pain from outside of the walls. A few slaves believed the locksmith but most of them figured that true happiness was right where they were. They declared him a troublemaker, held a trial and accused him of disturbing the peace. He was declared guilty and executed, and those who’d fought him thought they’d handled the situation.

But the locksmiths followers, who’d been quiet during the trial, saw that the broken locks could never be locked again and began spreading the news. Many were killed, but the living kept working and serving and preaching. Some believed while more kept dreaming they were free. They didn’t want to hear this news, they were afraid they might be challenged by the pain they saw outside the walls. They couldn’t understand why the locksmith would break the locks.

These slaves couldn’t see the genius in the locksmith’s boldness.

Some time ago, I came across Jeremiah 29:11-14. And honestly, it’s probably my favorite passage of Scripture that’s not John 3:16-17 or the Parable of the Prodigal Son: “‘For I know the plans I have for you,’ declares the Lord, ‘plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. Then you will call on me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart. I will be found by you,’ declares the Lord, ‘and will bring you back from captivity. I will gather you from all the nations and places where I have banished you,’ declares the Lord, ‘and will bring you back to the place from which I carried you into exile.”

Let’s consider this four-part message from God.

First, God knows what’s going to happen to his people before it happens. God’s mighty providence is over all, even the things we can’t see, understand, control, or appreciate. We pray to God but do we recognize that God knows what’s going to happen?

Second, God plans, ultimately, for there to be good in his people’s lives. The good, the bad, the indifferent, God is using everything to bring us what we need and where we need to be.

Third, there is a time God already knows when people will seek him and pray to him with all their heart, and he will listen to them. If the second is true, that God is using everything for good, then it would make sense that there was a time when we would get over ourselves and turn to God! And that when we get it, that we will be all in, not half-baked, not going through the motions, but devoted to God.

Fourth, at this time, when they have sought him with their whole heart, God will restore them to where they belong, that he will return them from exile. Even more than that, it says that God will free his people from what holds them captive. In Jeremiah it referred to the foreign nations, but today it could mean the addictions, the impulses, the love of money, the status quo, our apathy, all of which we can’t seem to free ourselves by ourselves.

I don’t know where you, dear reader/listener, are right now, but know these truths:

-God knows you, your wants, desires, and dreams, and he wants what’s best for you. He knows what you’ll do, and what the results are.

-God has a plan to optimize life in the best way possible for you, but he will allow you to make your own decisions so that whether you win or lose, he is with you.

-God knows that when you recognize you’re at ground zero, when you’ve hit rock bottom, and you turn to him, HE WILL HEAR YOU.

-And finally, God will give you everything you need, when you need it– in fact, God sent Jesus so that you could have an eternal relationship with him FOREVER. God wanted you to be free from all the things that hold you back.

I pray today that we would repent as individuals, as a church, as a country, for the way that we have oppressed the poor, ostracized the alien, idolized the unimportant, disenfranchised Jesus, and focused on everything but loving God and our neighbor. I pray that we would turn aside from all of these things that keep us from being who God intends us to be, even if they are the things we think we’re doing right for God, and turn back to the one true God, the maker of the universe, the inspiring force in everything that is good.

God says in II Chronicles 7:4 that “if my people, who are called by my name, will humble themselves and pray and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven, and I will forgive their sin and will heal their land.”

I pray that we will turn to God and find that he is embracing us already. So, as I close, I ask you to examine your heart, and pray to God that he would examine you, finding all that is out of place and unclean, and remove it.

So that the words of the prophet would be true today: “You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart. I will be found by you, and will bring you back from captivity. I will gather you from all the nations and places where I have banished you, and will bring you back to the place from which I carried you into exile.”

This sermon is for the 11 a.m. worship service at Blandford UMC on South Crater Road on November 10. Hope you’ll stop by if you’re in the area!

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A 317 Pound Bully In Church? (A Mustard Seed Musing)

Posted on November 5, 2013 by Jacob Sahms

When did bullying, or hazing, or harassment become okay?

We seem to have a heightened sense of it, thanks to the tragic deaths of teens and children who succumbed to the hate poured down on them. But we can’t seem to stop it. Maybe that’s because we’ve allowed ourselves to hear stories about the situations and assume, “well, that’s just the way it is.” At what point is enough enough?

The latest story about bullying doesn’t come from a high school lunchroom or a middle school bus stop, but from the depths of the locker room of the Miami Dolphins. The 6′ 5″ second-year lineman Jonathan Martin left the team last week when the harassment he received from the NFL’s Dirtiest Player (by a player vote), Richie Incognito, used more than his 319 pounds to push Martin around (for the record, Martin weighs 312). During the offseason in April, Incognito left a voicemail for Martin that included a racial epithet, and threatened to kill Martin. And apparently, last week, Martin had seen and heard enough, so he quit the team.

Having played sports and having observed the “pack mentality,” I found myself wishing Martin could’ve stayed, because locker room mentality can be like sharks in the water at the first sign of blood. But what if Martin’s only recourse, after years of the football, run-through-the-wall mentality was to go the way of Jovan Belcher or Aaron Hernandez? The Rolando McClains of the football world are few and far between, those who recognize their anger and step away from the game to avoid a greater tragedy. What if Martin had decided that violence was the answer? [Seriously though, how many other people on a football team that practices together, eats together, lives together, and travels together saw this going down, and did nothing?]

And someone reading this just said, “but that’s because of the football mentality!”

Is it?

I can still remember being at the bus stop and being bullied in elementary school by a family who insulted how I dressed, kicked sand in my face, and threatened me with more violence on a regular occasion. I can remember my first year as a lifeguard at a public beach on the island where I grew up, being threatened with bodily harm and being forced to do tasks that no one else was expected to do because they were deemed too disgusting.

And I continue to see the pattern of “hazing” even within the life of the church I love.

At one of my stops as a youth minister, I encountered a pre-established pattern where ninth graders were humiliated on their first mission trip with the senior high, and favoritism was shown to some of the youth who were deemed “cool.” Is it just “hazing” when a seventy-five pound freshman is expected to carry two hundred pounds worth of luggage? Is it just funny when that person’s clothes are messed with or they’re left in the dark to stumble back from their shower without a towel?

Several years later, as a soon-to-be-ordained elder, I was told that the frustrations I had experienced within the United Methodist process were almost over, and that I could do those same things to others once I was “in.” Sure, I’m grateful for the difficulty of the process and recognizing what I accomplished, but I have no way to “jive” the teachings of Jesus with the idea that the subjective struggles I went through were okay because I could inflict them on others!

Isn’t that the form of initiation-turned-hazing that Paul is arguing against in Galatians, where he’s reminding a church that they are saved by Christ and not by being Jewish first? Isn’t the whole letter about the way in which the church structure became immune to the way that people were treated because it had become part of the process?

As a mentor pointed out a long time ago, “you show me a problem outside the church and I’ll show it to you inside the church as well.” Sin is sin is sin (to modify Gertrude Stein). Somewhere, there’s a 317 pound Richie Incognito in a church, waiting for someone to intervene, and stop him.

Rick Warren wrote that we couldn’t have peace as a nation until we had peace as a community, until we had peace within families. If churches and sports teams are communities or families, how can we have peace when one individual or one group lords it over another?

It’s time we stop “normalizing the abnormal,” it’s time we stop accepting that one person treating another as “less” is “just the way it is.” If we can watch Nickelodeon ads about stop bullying for our kids, isn’t it time we stop bullying as adults, too? Isn’t it time we said “no” to the mistreatment of our co-workers, our pew mates, our neighbors? Isn’t it time we made the decision to break the cycle of violence in our own lives, by stopping our own acts of violence and breaking the cycle of violence for others?

The case of Martin and Incognito reminds us that it doesn’t matter how big you are, you can still be made to feel small. But the biggest opponent can be brought low by the smallest decision to break the cycle of violence.

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Church & The “Change Allergy” (A Mustard Seed Musing)

Posted on October 31, 2013 by Jacob Sahms

I used to eat a lot of pasta. No, really, A LOT. I also swam competitively and ran competitively, so carbohydrates were my friend. Now, I eat less carbs (thank you, slowing metabolism), but I can’t eat pasta in general thanks to a late-breaking allergy to most pasta.

Something I loved, my mom’s spaghetti, a good trip to Fazzoli’s (hello, Wilmore, KY), or a friendly church spaghetti supper, are all off the list. But the thing about that allergy is, that I didn’t always have it.

I think churches can be like that about change. We start off excited by the prospect of bringing in new people, of sharing the gospel of Jesus Christ with others, of diversifying from our current makeup into something more “kingdom-oriented” (you know, like, HEAVEN, maybe?)

We are fully invested in the ways that we can be different, in the way that we can bring people who have never met Jesus into a relationship with him, and in thinking outside of the box as we know it.

And then something happens.

We succeed, maybe just a little bit, and somehow, our established way of doing things gets threatened. Maybe a new musician enters the mix, someone who plays at a different style or speed than we’re used to; maybe a different “type” of person starts coming, one from a different denomination, cultural background, race, economic class, or [fill in the blank]. We’re pretty cool, so far. I mean, it’s just one person or one family.

But then maybe that individual or family invites another, or we have a large event that results in several people who seem different… and suddenly, there’s critical mass. We begin to worry about voting, and finances, and who sits where, and what events and groups of people we should focus on. We worry that maybe our way might not survive; we worry that “but that’s the way we’ve always done it” was important to protect us.

And suddenly, that “itch” is more like the side effects that they say really quickly at the end of a quick fix pill… and the church has a full-blown allergic reaction.

And we’re left with two options: are we going to change our “eating patterns” [wheat pasta is good!] or are we going to give up and move on, and lose sight of why we came to Christ’s table in the first place?

Can we recognize that we were once on the outside looking in? Can we see that without Christ, we’re just homeless and hungry? Or will we get caught up in our own quest for food, our own sense of need, and fail to recognize that God has enough for all of us?

Leave your experiences on how the church has been “allergic” and ways you’ve seen a community find the cure to building kingdom-first church. Thanks for reading!

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Sunday’s Sermon Today: Answer Your Call (Jeremiah 1:4-19)

Posted on October 30, 2013 by Jacob Sahms

One of my favorite scenes in a movie ever happens early on in Bruce Almighty. Bruce (Jim Carey) has called out God, basically telling God that he could do God’s job better. He’s called God out, and now, God starts calling Bruce back.

God uses street signs. God uses a pager. God uses a truck full of signs.

And still, Bruce can’t recognize his call. He can’t recognize that God is specifically speaking to him.

Are we ever guilty of that?

We use language in church about “call” and sometimes we differentiate it and sometimes we don’t. We say that God “calls” people into ministry. We say that God puts a “call” on our lives to do or to be whatever we’re going to be. We say that God “calls” us to act or to move in the short term, to act in a certain way on behalf of God.

However we use it, it involves us a) hearing God’s communication and b) God having a plan for us to act after we receive that communication. But there’s also a “c,” how will we respond to that call? Because we could follow through with what God wants or we could just walk away.

Jonah walked away- he floated on a ship in the opposite direction from where God wanted him to go.

Moses argued with God- he said he wasn’t skilled, prepared, or experienced enough to do what God wanted him to do.

Paul didn’t understand what God wanted from him, so first he persecuted Christians, and God had to knock him off a donkey on the way to Damascus, and blind him for a few days.

And then there’s Jeremiah. You can read his call story in Jeremiah 1 here. We don’t know exactly how God communicated to Jeremiah, whether it was some kind of direct speaking, a dream, an angel, or a vision. But we know that God tells Jeremiah that he’s known him his whole life (actually, before he was even conceived) and that God has appointed him to be a prophet to the nations.

Like some of the other saints of the church, Jeremiah argues with God. He says that he doesn’t know how to speak, and that he’s too young.

But like so many of these other call stories, God is undeterred.

“You must go to everyone I send you to, and say I sent you. Don’t be afraid of them because I will rescue you. I am with you.”

All of that’s pretty standard for a call story. God tells his servants, the faithful, that he’ll be with them, that they can use his name to back up their argument or message, and that they shouldn’t be afraid even when the world around them is scary or makes no sense.

But then it gets… different.

God reaches out his hand and touches Jeremiah’s mouth. Not only has God spoken to Jeremiah, but he has tangibly touched Jeremiah. This is a more intimate picture of God’s intervention in human existence than we’ve seen before in the Old Testament, of God reaching out and touching someone.

Whose face do you touch? I don’t know about you, but it’s a pretty small list for me. My wife’s. My children. It’s intimate, close, affectionate.

God tells Jeremiah with this touch, that he has appointed him over nations and kingdoms, with the power to uproot and tear down, to destroy and overthrow, to build and to plant.” He tells Jeremiah that he has put his words in Jeremiah’s mouth.

Jeremiah has been made God’s mouthpiece but Jeremiah has been made more than that. He has been made of God, a reminder of the original imageo dei when God created Adam and Eve in “his image” in the Garden of Eden.

What Jeremiah says from this point forward is what God has to say. God proves it to Jeremiah by asking what Jeremiah sees. We don’t know if it’s in the spiritual world or the physical one, but Jeremiah has no doubts about what God is asking.

Jeremiah says he sees the branch of an almond tree. And God says that Jeremiah has seen correctly because it is a fulfillment of God’s word.  A vision of a boiling water comes next, with a preview of the upcoming invasion that is brought upon the people of God.

This is the message that Jeremiah is to bring to his people, that destruction is coming and that they should repent. It’s pretty simple.

Jeremiah will pronounce judgment on the people because they’ve forsaken God and worshipped other idols. He is urged by God to get ready, to be prepared to speak the truth even when it’s rejected, because God is with him and will rescue him.

Whew, what a call story.

The direct call of God on Jeremiah’s life. The intimacy of touch. The inspiration of the word. The message for the people.

If we fast forward a few chapters, we’ll see that Jeremiah is beaten, ridiculed, imprisoned, threatened with death… all because he followed through with what God told him to. He does what’s supposed to, what he’s called to do, and it results in a greater struggle than if he’d just failed to say what God told him to.

Bruce thinks that his life will get easier if God would speak to him, that somehow everything about his life will be buttoned up and just the way it’s supposed to be. If you’ve seen the movie, you know that being closer to the truth meant Bruce had more problems, not less. And it worked the same way for Jeremiah.

Jeremiah stood up in Jerusalem and told people that they needed to change or things would get very bad, very quickly. He said that in the midst of political persecution, one man speaking the truth, while the government and religious leaders were all saying that he was wrong, a liar, a fraud.

Jeremiah didn’t make the news; he just delivered it. He understood what it was like to hold his hands up and say “don’t shoot the messenger,” and recognize that the people couldn’t separate the meaning of the message from the messenger himself. But he couldn’t stop telling the truth because that’s what he was called to do!

Are we that focused on the truth? Are we listening for God’s call in the night, in the whisper, in the storm? Are we willing to stand up to the earthly authorities, to the apathy that can’t see danger right in front of their faces, to the corruption in our own neighborhoods and communities, to say that we need to turn to what God wants from us or recognize the consequences?

I’m aware that being a prophet is pretty lonely. I know that speaking to the truth means that someone won’t like it. But the reward outweighs the risk. We’re either intimately known by God or we’re not known at all; we’re either part of God’s family or we’re not.

You can’t have it both ways.

I hope that today you’ll consider whether you’re following what God is calling you to do, or not. That you’ll reflect on your life and the way you’re living, and ask yourself, “is God with me and am I with God?”

Reflect on that, chew on it, digest it.

I pray today that if you haven’t made a choice to hear God’s call and respond, that you will today. And I pray that if you have made that choice before, but have fallen out of the practice of listening well, that you’d “re-up” with God today, and commit yourself to prophetically speaking the truth of God’s love and call in our world today.

The world still needs prophets who are prepared to speak the truth. We can’t survive without them.

This sermon is for November 10 at The Stand in Prince George, Va. I’m publishing a week early because I won’t be preaching on November 3.

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The Fifth Estate: Losing Sight Of The Mission (Movie Review)

Posted on October 24, 2013 by Jacob Sahms

A mysterious figure on a mission. Significant intrigue and danger. Globetrotting sets.

Are we looking at the fourth Bourne movie?

No, it’s the intriguing Wikileaks-based movie by Bill Condon (Gods and Monsters, Chicago, last two Twilight movies), starring Sherlock star Benedict Cumberbatch (The Hobbit, Star Trek Into Darkness, 12 Years A Slave) as Wikileaks founder Julian Assange. We see him primarily through the eyes of his first “disciple,” Daniel Domscheit-Berg (Daniel Bruhl, Rush), a reporter who seeks out Assange early on in the Wikileaks days out of admiration for his truth-telling work.

The film is different in that there are flashbacks, “fantasy” scenes, and straightforward action, interspersed with real-life news clips, interviews, and computer-generated interludes announcing time and place. When Cumberbatch is present, the camera is absolutely focused on his portrayal of Assange as an informational genius, albeit a mad one. Without Cumberbatch, we’re left on Bruhl, who plays Berg as the straight man and our narrative conscience (should we be doing this?) but it’s like watching The Great Gatsby without Gatsby. We’re intrigued by Assange’s quest, but how we feel about him… that’s confusing.

I’m not a real news-watcher or politico, and honestly, I probably wouldn’t have seen this if it hadn’t been for Cumberbatch, whose work I love in Sherlock. The story is intriguing though: what right does the public have to private information, held by corporations or governments? We’re in The East territory with internet “terrorists” here, but when the information isn’t just releasing innocents from hurt, but puts embedded government agents in danger, do the rules change?

Assange (as portrayed here) sees himself as a sort of informational Robin Hood, stealing from the powerful to enlighten the public/the poor of knowledge. But somewhere along the way, we see him lose sight of the mission. Is it the thrill of power or responsibility of the position? Is it the burden of genius? Is it the spiraling out of control of a life weighed down by a messed up childhood? What, in the end, has this cost Assange, or Berg?

While I didn’t find the movie particularly moving, and certainly don’t need to re-watch it, I was asked to question whether I have lost sight of the mission? Do I know why I do what I do? Does my church? Or have I become so caught up in doing what I’m doing that I’ve forgotten why I do it? Phil Vischer says that he lost sight of being with God while he was working for God (Veggietales). He’d lost sight of the mission’s purpose in the midst of the mission.

The Fifth Estate challenges us to not make the same mistakes Assange does: to not lose sight of the people in the midst of the mission, to not forget what really matters, to not lose ourselves in our work. If we’re going to remain true to the mission, we must remain true to ourselves first.

For another great look at the film, check out Steve Norton’s take here. 

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Sunday’s Sermon Today: There Is A Time (Ecclesiastes 3:1-14)

Posted on October 23, 2013 by Jacob Sahms

Today, we celebrate All Saints’ Sunday. We celebrate those who have gone before us and those who will follow. We question whether or not we will one day be one of the “saints” that the living speak of in such glowing terms, long after we are dead. The truth is that the Wesleys, John and Charles, who wrote many of our hymns and founded our denomination, believed that sainthood was not the future of the few but of all Christians who persevered in the faith. 

Still, we live in a time where what we have lost seems to be more prevalent than what we have or what the future holds. From government stoppages to pictures of emaciated children on our televisions, from rumors of wars to rising costs of living, we experience a sense that the world is not right. We struggle, and we wonder how it will end.

Yet in those moments of frustration we cling to the hope we have in the person of Jesus Christ… and the glimmers of Jesus we see in the people who have soldiered on ahead of us, who have risen to the challenge to be the people God wanted them to be.

They are our parents, our grandparents, our neighbors, our pastors, our siblings, our friends. They, in their time, stood before the great divide between what is and what should be, and they shook their fists and raised their voices in song. They persevered and that’s why we’re here! They recognized that God promised more than what they could see and followed through in their time. (Like Cinderella, they know that time is of the essence, slipping away, and that you can run out of time!)

And now, I reckon, is our time.

The author of Ecclesiastes is a prophet, King Solomon, or some wise scribe wrote about time in Ecclesiastes 3:1-14. Even if you never heard the Scripture before today, you’ve heard the words, thanks to The Byrds or Jan and Dean. You know:

“To Everything (Turn, Turn, Turn)
There is a season (Turn, Turn, Turn)
And a time to every purpose, under Heaven.”

But Solomon laid out the various seasons for coming to life, and for dying, to plant and to uproot, to tear down and to build, to weep and to laugh. He ultimately decided that because God had made everything beautiful in its time, that the best humanity could do would be to be happy and do good while it existed. He saw that God had “set eternity in human hearts,” but that no one could truly wrap their mind around that truth.

We know that what we see isn’t all there is, that something more and greater exists just around the corner from what we can see.

It’s that kind of faith that gets written about in Hebrews 11:

“Now faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see. By faith we understand that the universe was formed at God’s command, so that what is seen was not made out of what was visible.

By faith Abraham, when called to go to a place he would later receive as his inheritance, obeyed and went, even though he did not know where he was going. By faith he made his home in the promised land like a stranger in a foreign country; he lived in tents, as did Isaac and Jacob, who were heirs with him of the same promise. For he was looking forward to the city with foundations, whose architect and builder is God. And by faith even Sarah, who was past childbearing age, was enabled to bear children because she considered him faithful who had made the promise. And so from this one man, and he as good as dead, came descendants as numerous as the stars in the sky and as countless as the sand on the seashore.”

We are strangers in the strange land, we are people called to see what others cannot see and to faithfully persevere. We are called to recognize that God continues to show up in situations with old men who are as good as dead and young men who don’t know who they’re supposed to be yet. Saints see hope in the midst of hopelessness; saints find homes in the midst of homelessness.

Saints remember this, the quintessential All Saints Day Scripture, from Hebrews 12: “Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith. For the joy set before him he endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. Consider him who endured such opposition from sinners, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart.”

Today, we celebrate those who led us in faith, who have gone onto glory already. We recognize that we are not here of our own merit, that God worked his prevenient grace in us and through us, using the people who invited us, encouraged us, and taught us what it meant to be a follower of Jesus in their words and actions. And we recognize that they still watch over us, urging us on in that beautiful imagery of the race that Paul paints here.

Have you ever run competitively? Whether it was a fun run with colored dust lofted into the air around you or the participation in a mile or Iron Man, in school or after, do you remember the push that those cheering you on gave you? You were recognized, you were known, you were even called by name.

Now, all around you, in the whispers, in these pictures here on the altar, in the memories you have of how you got here today, there are people calling your name, urging you on.

I don’t know where you are in your race. It’s not about crossing the line but growing on the journey. It’s not just about claiming Jesus as your Lord and Savior, as important as that is, but in growing in faith, in discipleship, in grace as you go. Have you taken that first step? Have you confessed your sins and claimed Jesus? He’s already claimed you!

Take a minute to confess our sins and consider the sacrifice of Jesus who died on the cross.

The race continues! The crowd continues to roar. Your growth is not finished even though eternal life starts NOW. You are living in God and into what God wants for you. But the road is long and filled with surprises, curving and dipping, at times even hidden from view.

Somewhere along the way, you will need the steadying hand of a fellow runner. Somewhere along the way, you will provide the support to another who needs you. You will become the fellow encourager– your time will change who you are and what your role is. But it is all part of the process, it is all part of the journey.

And someday, they may say of you as Charles Wesley wrote of his saints, in “I Sing a Song of the Saints of God” (UMH 712):

“They lived not only in ages past;
there are hundreds of thousands still.
The world is bright with the joyous saints
who love to Jesus’ will.
You can meet them in school, on the street, in a store,
in church, by the sea, in the house next door;
they are saints of God, whether rich or poor,
and I mean to be one, too.”

May you recognize your time, and your place, for everything has a purpose under heaven.

I leave you with this Prayer Meditation for All Saints Day by Safiyah Fosua.

“We give you thanks, O God, for all the saints who ever worshiped you. Whether in brush arbors or cathedrals,Weathered wooden churches or crumbling cement meeting houses
Where your name was lifted and adored.

We give you thanks, O God, for hands lifted in praise:
 Manicured hands and hands stained with grease or soil,
 Strong hands and those gnarled with age
, Holy hands
 used as wave offerings across the land.

We thank you, God, for hardworking saints;
 Whether hard-hatted or steel-booted,
Head ragged or aproned,
 Blue-collared or three-piece-suited
. They left their mark on the earth for you, for us, for our children to come.

Thank you, God, for the tremendous sacrifices made by those who have gone before us.
 Bless the memories of your saints, God.
 May we learn how to walk wisely from their examples of faith, dedication, worship, and love.”

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Only God Forgives: Does Violence Bring More Violence? (Movie Review)

Posted on October 22, 2013 by Jacob Sahms

Nicholas Winding Refn paired up with Ryan Gosling for the cult hit Drive in 2011. They return with the dark lights of Bangkok, where Julian (Gosling) runs a Muay Thai fight club as a front for his drug smuggling operation. His mother, Crystal (Kristin Scott Thomas), arrives to claim Julian’s brother’s body, after he’s murdered in retaliation for beating a prostitute to death. But Crystal isn’t on a mission of mercy and grief; she’s a criminal in her own right, and she expects that Julian will avenge his brother’s death, even if he deserved it. What follows is a cat-and-mouse game of violence, murder, and moodiness that we’ve come to expect from Refn. Is it enough to draw you in?

The straw stirring the drink is Lieutenant Chang (Vithaya Pansringarm), who is himself adept in the art of Muay Thai, and uses a kitanna to inflict punishment, either amputations or execution, on those he deems guilty, like an angel of death. We literally don’t see Chang arrest anyone, as he’s too busy serving as judge, jury, and executioner. Chang and Julian are both nearly flat characters: the depth that they have pushed their emotions to has rendered them blunt instruments of destruction. Whether it’s justice or not is left primarily in the mind of the audience, as Julian must decide how to balance his own internal sense of silent morality with the push and pull of Crystal and Chang.

We’re not sure what to believe with what we’re seeing or what we’re told. Julian obviously has some developmental issues, and some substance implies he feels a need to get back into his mother’s womb (metaphorically). He’s the result of his upbringing (nurture) but is it his nature, too? Does he change over the course of the film, or is it merely a steady domino effect of violence on violence on violence that leads him to where he ends up? Can anyone break the cycle or is the destiny already determined? Does Julian even want to change?

Only God Forgives is stylized, in the way that Drive was made more profound by the way it was delivered. But the questions about morality and violence are left more open-ended, to the point that we don’t exactly know what we saw. Julian seems lifeless and controllable, but what he won’t do ultimately seems to define him… even if the consequences are the same. So, is that the point? That the god figure, the vengeance, destroys no matter what? Or is redemption possible?

I’ll admit, the view of God isn’t one that I share, but it’s always interesting to see in cinema how someone does. Or how someone would convey their view of God through their work. Is your God vengeful? Or gracious? Can God be both? And what do our lives, and how we act, have to do with God; can we reflect God or not?

I don’t think Only God Forgives can affect what you believe, but it might reflect what you believe back at you.

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#HumanityStrong or “Why The Red Sox Win Matters (But I Might Be Biased)” (A Mustard Seed Musing)

Posted on October 21, 2013 by Jacob Sahms

I haven’t been sleeping well. The Red Sox keep winning, and the games roll on into the early morning. But this year, it’s more than a bunch of baseball players I’m rooting for. It’s a city, a group of people, spread out from where they came from and now living all over the world. It’s about New Englanders, about Red Sox, about humanity.

In December 2012, Sandyhook Elementary School in Newtown, CT., was the sight of one of the worst humanity-inflicted tragedies of recent memory.

In April 2013, Boston was the result of the second-ever Boston Massacre, as two extremists made the Boston Marathon into a devastating event that claimed the lives of three people and injured nearly three hundred others.

The Boston Marathon runs right past Fenway Park. Players and their families have taken part in the celebration that includes an earlier game scheduled to launch “Patriot’s Day.” After hearing news of the tragedy, the Red Sox have had survivors, responders, victims’ families members, and others throw out pitches, sing, challenge the team and fans. The tragedy became the rallying cry for a team that had been counted all but out by prognosticators.

On October 19, 2013, the Boston Red Sox clinched the American League spot in the 2013 World Series.

You can tell me that these three events are unrelated, but as a native New Englander, I will tell you that you’re wrong.

See, BoSox relievers Craig Breslow and Andrew Bailey live near Newtown. On April 1, 2013, two of the most hated rivals, the BoSox and their N.Y. Yankee rivals, stood on the field united to remember the twenty-six fallen victims of Newtown. [I can remember the one time in thirty-plus years that I’ve rooted for the Yankees: it was 2001, and the city was reeling from the 9/11 attacks. Rivalries didn’t matter. Humanity did.]

Dustin Pedroia, second baseman, said, “I don’t think you can find anybody in Boston who doesn’t love the Red Sox, so we’re responsible in the worst of times to try to help out.”

Designated hitter and longtime Boston icon, David “Big Papi” Ortiz, put it more succinctly in his edited refrain as reliever Koji Uehara received the ALCS MVP: “This is our bleeping city.” [You can now own a t-shirt from Sullys that quotes what he really said when the games resumed after the manhunt ended.]

I’m not a fan of public profanity, but I know what he meant. I understand what it’s like to see the capital of your childhood under siege, locked up, and to know that family members, and people you know, can’t go outside for their safety.

I’ll never forget making phone calls and reflecting on what might be the reality of my family member and friends who were close to the tragedy. And the thing is, I don’t want to. I don’t want to forget because it’s made me value life and living more. It’s made me see  running, yes, running, as a privilege not a right, defended by others who protect us from these dangers, and as a memorial to those who will not run again.

And the Red Sox run for these affected as well. They run, and hit, and pitch, and dance, not just for the game, but for the people. They give a reminder of the Boston spirit that would not and will not be broken by terrorism, by tragedy, by the evil decisions in some human hearts.

Maybe it’s not the Red Sox for you. Maybe it’s the local high school team or the singing group or your church or the [fill in the blank]. Whatever it is, it’s that moment where you recognize what Martin Luther King Jr. meant when he said, “Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.”

It’s that moment where competing or representing or loving is more than just an individual decision. It’s a team thing.

And it’s not just a game. It’s a reminder that we are Boston Strong. We are humanity strong.

When sports allows us to compete, to cheer, to honor the fallen, to hope and unite toward what could be, that’s when the Red Sox aren’t just a baseball team, but a symbol of what the city could be. And to recognize that our teams are giving back, both individual players and united team fronts, and that we should be, too.

Shoot, if the Red Sox and the Yankees can agree on something, can’t we all work together for something good?

Win or lose the World Series, the Red Sox, and their bearded crew of crazed wildmen (here’s looking at you, Mike Napoli, Jonny Gomes, and David Ross!), have given us something to cheer for and reminded us that we are forever #humanitystrong.

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