Walking

Micah 6:1-8

February 9, 2014

            I met Celia in college.  Celia was the first person I knew who did what we now call a gap year.  Like most of her classmates, she started college right after high school, but soon realized she wasn't quite ready for the challenges that come with going off to school.  So she decided to take a break for a year or two, work and figure out what to do next.  One of the things she did during that interim was to participate in an Outward Bound course.  Outward Bound is wilderness training.  Participating in an Outward Bound expedition not only offers you the chance to learn about living and surviving in nature, it also helps you discover what you're made of.  There are expeditions all over the country.  You can sail the coast of Maine, ride the rapids in the Rockies, or go dog sledding and cross country skiing in the Boundary Waters.  Some of the courses are designed for a week or two.  Some are a month, and some are an intense semester or more.  Celia chose intense. 

            She spent a semester in an expedition out west, hiking, camping, and trying to survive.  One of the hiking practices in Celia's Outward Bound group was that the slower, less confident hikers took point.  That meant that the slowest hikers found themselves at the front of the line, leading the way for everyone else.  This forced everyone to adjust their pace to accommodate the slower hikers.  It wasn't easy for the slower folks.  It wasn't easy for the hikers who wanted to move fast.  For the first few weeks Celia was always placed at the head of the hiking line. One day the group was hiking a particularly steep trail and they came to a gap between one rock and the next.  Between that gap was a sheer drop to the ground below; far below.  Celia told me the gap really wasn't that wide, but it required a significant stretch of the legs if you were tall or a small jump if you were shorter to get across.  Celia looked at the gap.  She looked at the path on the other side.  She looked at the drop.  Then she started to cry.  Because she was hiking point, the whole line came to a screeching halt. 

            It didn't take long for the entire line of hikers to know that something was wrong, and to a hiker they tried to help Celia.  They encouraged her.  They gave her reassurance that she would be okay.  They helped her face her fears about crossing over the gap.  They told her to take her time and that they would wait until she was ready.  At the beginning of their intense semester together, the more experienced hikers would have become frustrated at being stopped like this.  They would have resented her tears and resented her for letting fear slow them all down.  But the point of Outward Bound isn't to offer an exotic vacation.  And although it does focus on leadership, it's not just about forming leaders either. It's about taking a group of strangers and helping them become a community; a community that is built on trust, support and respect.  This is a community that is created not only in the hiking and camping and surviving, but in the walking.  Celia's community gathered around her, and it wasn't so they could get the line moving again and the hike back on track.  They gathered around her because they had been walking together, literally and figuratively.  They had been walking together, and in their walking they had come to care for and love one another.  That's why they encouraged Celia, because they had been walking together. 

            Walking is at the heart of our passage from Micah.  That seems strange at first, because we don't hear about the walking until the end.  This particular pericope from the prophet is essentially a courtroom scene.  Israel is the defendant.  God is the plaintiff.  The Lord has a "controversy with his people."  The hills and the mountains will witness to the case the Lord makes against his people.  The Lord reminds his people of their story.  He brought them out of slavery in the land of Egypt.  He lead them in the wilderness.  The Lord delivered them, and how do they respond to his care and salvation?  They fall away from God's teachings, time and time again.  They make the rich richer and the poor and the needy go hungry and empty handed.  They forget the least of these in their midst.  They seek after other gods.  They forget their own story. 

            Israel answers God's claims.  In verses 6 and 7, they ask what will finally make God happy?  A list of gradually greater offerings is suggested; burnt offerings, calves a year old, thousands of rams, ten thousands rivers of oil.  It finally culminates with the offering of their first born.  Would even the offering of their first born children finally satisfy The Lord? 

            Micah, the narrator of this drama, adds the final words.  None of this extravagance, none of this wild sacrifice is necessary.  The Lord has told them already what is required of them.  "He has told you, O mortal, what is good.  And what does the Lord require of you, but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God?"

            Do justice.  Love kindness.  Walk humbly. 

            At first glance it seems that doing justice comes first, followed closely by kindness, and then when you've mastered the first two, you have the time and resources to get walking.  Except it doesn't work like that.   What has to come first, what must come first, is the walking.  We walk humbly with our God, and from that walk flows the love of kindness, and out of our kindness comes our desire to do justice.  The walking humbly with God is the foundation for loving kindness and doing justice.  

            It seems to me that when we set out on this humble walk with God, we don't just haphazardly scatter acts of kindness and justice to people as we walk past them.  Walking with God means we also walk with God's children, whoever and wherever they are.  We walk with God and we walk with "the least of these."  I think that is the call implicit in this passage.  We're called to walk with God and to walk with others.  But it's far too easy to miss that point.  Instead we see walking with God as our personal journey alone.  This humble walk required of us isn't about singing a few verses of "Just a Closer Walk With Thee," and thinking that we've got it all figured out.

            Jessica Krey Duckworth, one of the theologians at the conference I attended in the Twin Cities a week ago, said that, "faith is the journey toward the world."  Faith is the journey toward the world.  The walking that God calls us to do is about walking in the world.  It is a walk with the broken people, the angry people, those who are hurting and those who hurt.  Our loving kindness, our doing justice is about walking with God's children; not only beside them, but also, to borrow a cliche, in their shoes.  Loving kindness is about our willingness to try on those shoes no matter how uncomfortable they may be.  Doing justice is being willing to carry them when their walking becomes unbearable.  And we do this because in our own humble walking with God, others have tried on our shoes and others have carried us.  Our humble walking with God calls us to walk with others just as God walks with us. 

            In the town meetings we've had and will continue to have to discuss the vision and future for our congregation and our ministry, I've been quite open about changes I don't want to make.  I've seen the possible changes we've begun to propose about our building and our location as a threat to the call I felt to come here.  But time away is not only good for learning and rest, it's also good for finding new perspectives and new insights.  This humble walking we're called to do is not going to take us down the same unchanging path.  This humble walk with God will take us in different directions, across variegated terrain, and into new, strange and potentially frightening territories.  The changes that may be in our future seem uncertain if not downright scary.  But if not changing prevents me from humble walking, from loving kindness, from doing justice, then I have stopped doing what the Lord requires of me.  And like the Israelites, I have put my faith more in empty words and shallow rituals than I have in God.  I have trusted my own sense of knowledge more than I have trusted in God's wisdom.  If this is true, than I have forgotten why I'm walking at all.  Faith is a journey toward the world.  If bricks and mortar prevent rather than open the door to walking in God's world, then let me be the first to knock them down.  What does the Lord require of us, but to do justice and to love kindness and to walk humbly with our God ... into the world.  We are required to get walking.  So let's get walking.  And let all God's children say, "Alleluia!"  Amen.

Prove It

Periodically, I receive an e-mail or see a post on Facebook that shows a picture of Jesus looking serene, holy and much whiter than a Middle Eastern Jew should look; underneath the picture is a quote from Jesus in the gospel of Luke, "Those who are ashamed of me and of my words, of them the Son of Man will be ashamed when he comes in his glory and the glory of the Father and of the holy angels."  The purpose of this is that everyone who is unashamed of Jesus and his words should forward it, like it, share it, pass it on.

I don't.  I realize that may seem odd as I am a minister and the majority of my vocation is centered on sharing the gospel, the Good News.  But I just can't bring myself to participate in a cyber chain letter for Jesus.  Many people I know, love and respect do this with great sincerity and intention.  That's fine.  I'm sure that many folks see this as one way to share their faith, but to me it just feels like an internet proof text. It's as if I'm proclaiming, "Look y'all, see what a good Christian I am.  I am unashamed of Jesus and his precious words, so I will like and share."  I don't see this so much as evangelism or witness to the gospel, as it is a 21st century Slam Book to find out who's in and who's out.  The problem comes from the implication, direct or indirect, that if a person chooses not to like and share, then said person is a bad Christian.  Since I won't, I guess that means I'm a bad Christian indeed.

Here's the thing, passing on this kind of message doesn't prove anything other than I'm somewhat adept at using social media.  Sharing a picture and some verses doesn't prove my faith or my faithfulness.  And if I am trying to prove something, who am I proving it to?  Does proof of my faith even matter?  Is proof really the point?

I think the need for proof has been an ongoing issue within Christianity, and it has been to our detriment.  This has nothing to do with trying to prove the existence of God; instead it has been the Church (note the capital "C" for the institution) demanding proof of believers that he/she/they have the "right" faith, engage in the "correct" practices, and adhere wholeheartedly to what the institution believes is orthodoxy.  Heaven forbid any of us should harbor a seemingly heretical thought or idea.

This demand for proof -- are you the right kind of Christian -- can be seen in dramatic examples from history (how 'bout that Spanish Inquisition), and in the smaller, but insidious conflicts that occur between Catholics and Protestants, between denominations and within congregations.  Our need for proof of someone else's right belief has led to terrible, bitter, nasty doctrinal fights.  We use our Bibles as instruments for theological smack downs, and we hurt each other time and time again ... all in the name of Jesus.  And in those moments when the dust settles, we look up and wonder why the rest of the world sees us as a religion that is more about hate and judgment than it is about incarnate love, a striving for justice and unceasing work for peace.  Of that I am ashamed.

Don't misunderstand me; there are certain ideas that I believe are foundational to my faith.  I believe Jesus is the incarnate love of God, and that we are called to be that love for others.  I believe that we are called to be more concerned about the least of these than we are about our own comfort.  I believe that the cross is central to the Christian faith.  Yet unlike my more fundamental and evangelical sisters and brothers, I don't see the blood that was shed on that cross as the main point.   It was Jesus' willingness to go to the cross, to unwaveringly walk towards a prophet's death, for love's sake that makes me cling to its wooden frame.  Jesus knew that the truth could set you free.  He also knew that it could get you killed.  He spoke it anyway.

I have no doubt that there are many folks who will see my beliefs as being iffy, if not downright heretical.  I know that many would see this as proof that I'm not a good enough Christian.  I also know that I fail to live out my beliefs over and over again.  But I also believe in grace.  Maybe one day my beliefs will be proven wrong.  That's okay.  God and God's love is bigger than any of us can imagine.  So until that ultimate proof is revealed, I will continue to hope that, someday, my living and my loving will be all the proof that's needed.

Just Ordinary

Matthew 4:12-23

January 26, 2014

            “There’s no need to fear.  Underdog is here!”  Underdog was a cartoon superhero voiced by Wally Cox.  Normally Underdog was known as humble Shoeshine Boy.  But when trouble or danger loomed, Shoeshine Boy would rush into a phone booth and emerge as the fearless Underdog.  The damsel in distress that Underdog was always saving was Polly Purebred and the main villain, maybe the only villain, was Simon bar Sinister.  Underdog was a bumbling sort of superhero.  I remember he crashed a lot.  But he still managed to save Polly and save the day. 

            I wasn’t very old when I watched Underdog.  But I remember whenever he said his battle cry I would say it right along with him.  “There’s no need to fear.  Underdog is here!” 

            Underdog and Batman played by Adam West are the two superheroes that I remember from my early childhood.  But superheroes of all sorts were a part of my growing up, just as they have been for my kids.  My friends and I watched the cartoon Spiderman in the afternoons after school. Zach, who has loved superheroes ever since he could talk, told me, and I tell this with his permission, that some of his first memories are of the times when he would be sick late at night and the same Spiderman cartoon that I watched as a kid would be playing.  I would let him watch it till he could fall asleep. 

            Zach comes by his love of superheroes naturally.  Matt loves them.  My three nephews love them.  We have a variety of superhero movies in our DVD collection, and I’m sure more will be added.  There are so many different superheroes being portrayed in movies today, I can no longer keep up.  Along with Spiderman and Superman and Batman, there’s The Fantastic Four, X-Men, Ironman.  My kids get frustrated with me when I ask questions such as, “I know Thor is a good guy, but Loki?  Good or bad?” 

            All of this is to say that superheroes have been around for a long time; in comic books, in television shows, in movies.  As a culture, we love them and I suspect that love will continue.  Maybe it’s because we like the idea of there being people who live among us who seem to be ordinary, regular folks, just like us.  But when trouble or danger appears, they drop their ordinary façade and reveal their true super selves.  They rush in and save the day, stop the bad guy or guys, and make things better.  When we hear about another shooting, in schools or movie theaters or malls, don’t we wish, secretly or not, that there was a superhero or two to come in and make things better? 

            You probably think I’m about to connect this love of superheroes with the expectations people in the first century Near East had of a savior.  It’s true that some of the disappointment that people eventually felt about Jesus was that he wasn’t the warrior they expected.  The people who followed Jesus would not have had our version of a superhero in mind, but they would have expected a fierce warrior prepared to go to battle against the powers of oppression and tyranny that dominated their lives.  Jesus was not this kind of warrior.  But the superheroes that I’m actually thinking of are the disciples; the disciples that we read about in our text from Matthew.  These first four disciples – Simon called Peter, his brother Andrew and another pair of brothers, James and John, sons of Zebedee – are the superheroes I’m thinking of. 

            As you heard already, these four are minding their own business, literally.  When Jesus walks by the Sea of Galilee, he sees the four at work.  They are fishermen.  Peter and Andrew are casting nets into the sea.  Jesus calls them, and immediately they drop their nets and follow him.  Jesus walks a little farther and he sees James and John in their boat mending nets with their dad, Zebedee.  Jesus calls them as well, and they drop the nets, hop out of the boat, leave Zebedee and follow Jesus. 

            The commentaries and Biblical scholars that I turn to each week for better understanding of scripture have done a great deal of work demystifying this passage.  It’s quite likely that the disciples did know about Jesus already.  The passage begins by telling us that Jesus left Nazareth and made his home in Capernaum.  Capernaum would not have been a big city where you could get lost in the crowds.  It is quite possible that the disciples would have already encountered Jesus, either in person or by reputation.  Maybe they had heard him preach or teach.  Maybe they had previously heard his call to repent. The point is that Jesus may not have just been some random stranger who walked up to them, said, “Follow me.”   If they knew him or at least knew of him, it might explain a little more why they dropped everything and ran. 

            It is plausible to think that the disciples, having some knowledge of Jesus, realized what an amazing invitation they were getting and accepted.  However I’m not sure it matters that much for our purposes and understanding if they knew Jesus beforehand or not.  What matters is that when his call came, they answered.  But I also think it is plausible to believe that had the disciples known exactly what they were getting into, they would have told Jesus, “No, thank you.” 

            I talked with different people this week about a time when they’ve made a decision or a choice that changed their lives.  Maybe it was a decision they made impulsively, not knowing what was awaiting them.  One friend of mine said that she made a decision to provide foster care for some children for a week.  Just one week.  Now, a year and a half later, she’s still caring for those children.  They have become part of her family.  But if she had known that the week she promised to give would turn into an ongoing relationship, she might have said, “No.”  In fact it’s a good bet she would have definitely said, “No.”  Not because she isn’t caring or loving, but because it is a huge and demanding commitment. 

            I wonder if the disciples didn’t accept this call to follow Jesus, to be fishers of people, in the same way.  They accepted quickly, maybe without much thought about what they were getting into.  Had they had an inkling of the challenges they would face, the true nature of discipleship, they might have said, “No.” 

            But they didn’t.  Jesus called and they answered.  They dropped everything and followed him.  They left livelihoods and friends and family and answered the call.  Poor old Zebedee, one minute he was working with his sons, mending nets, the next minute he was left in his boat.  I wonder if he was thinking, “Wait?  What?” 

            These must have been extraordinary men to do what they did.  They must have been exceptional, because surely that’s why Jesus chose them, called them.  He had to have known that they would follow.  He had to have seen something remarkable in them, something special, some quality or trait that ordinary folks didn’t have. 

            To be honest, that’s what I’ve always thought about them.  I realize that Jesus was compelling, extraordinary and they probably recognized something remarkable in him.  But they must have been pretty incredible as well to do what they did; to leave everything and everyone and follow.  They must have been, because even on my best days I can’t do what they did.  I need to know I’m leaving one thing for something else.  I need to know I’m going to have some security in whatever call I’m answering.  I am not like those disciples.  I try but I don’t have their courage or their fortitude or their willingness to answer a call from Jesus with their whole hearts, minds and bodies.  That’s what I’ve thought.

            The problem with that thinking is that it makes the disciples seem more like superheroes than just ordinary folks.  But they weren’t superheroes. They were just ordinary people, just like me, just like you.  To claim the label “ordinary” doesn’t meant that we don’t have talents and abilities and something special within each of us.  To claim the label “ordinary” means that we don’t have to be anything more than we are right now to answer Jesus’ call to follow.  No matter how much we want to believe that the disciples were just a little higher up on the scale of specialness than we are, they weren’t.  They weren’t superheroes in disguise.  They were just ordinary. 

            We see that lived out time and time again.  They follow, but they don’t get it.  Peter – dear, wonderful, rash, impulsive Peter – tells Jesus in one breath that he is the Son of God, the Messiah, the One they have been waiting for … and in the next breath tells Jesus to knock it off with all this talk of death, crucifixion and rising again.  You’re scaring the other guys! 

            The disciples were just ordinary folks.  Just like me. Just like you.  Jesus called them in all of their ordinariness.  God worked through them, imperfect though they were, to bring about God’s purposes and God’s kingdom.  They were ordinary.  So are we.  They were called to follow, and sometimes they stumbled in their following.  Their faith wavered.  They messed up.  They were afraid and disbelieving.  They weren’t superheroes.  But sometimes they did extraordinary things.  And so do we. 

            Jesus calls us ordinary, everyday folks to follow, to be fishers of people, to trust that we can do what we are called to do, whatever that may be.  Jesus calls us to follow, not because we’re superheroes, but maybe because we’re not.  Jesus calls us to follow because of who we are already, with all of our failings, all of our flaws, all of our ordinariness.  We’re just ordinary folks and Jesus calls us, us, to be fishers of people.  Let all of God’s children say, “Alleluia!”  Amen.

             

           

Come and See

John 1:29-42

January 19, 2014

            No travel writer has made me want to get up and go more than Rick Steves.  His show on PBS, Europe Through the Backdoor, not only offers his viewers glimpses of the most famous travel sites in Europe, but you also see the places that don’t always make the tour maps.  Steves, in his sweet, nerdy way, shows that it’s possible to not only visit a place, but when you visit Europe through the backdoor you are able experience the real people and their real lives.     

            In one episode Rick and his crew, his producer and his cameraman, were in Portugal.  They left Lisbon and drove north up the coast to a town called Nazare.  Nazare is a beach town and during the summer, it is packed with tourists from all over Portugal and all over Europe.  But Rick is traveling in the off season, so tourist business is down.  Women of the town who have rooms to rent in their homes stand along the main thoroughfare into the town and hold up signs that are written in five different languages, advertising their open rooms.  Rick stops and speaks with one woman who assures him that she has good rooms, and then she beckons him to follow her home.  Come and see.

            So Rick and his crew in their car follow this woman who is on foot through the narrow streets of Nazare.  It seems that they follow this woman for a long time, but she just keeps laughing and beckoning them to follow her, come and see. 

            When they finally reach her home, she shows them the room and it’s absolutely lovely.  It’s spacious, clean and probably a lot homier than any hotel they might have stayed in.  This is what I love about Rick Steves.  He’s a seasoned traveler, but he’s not afraid to try something most of us would never dare.  He was willing to take a chance when this woman invited him to come and see the rooms she had for rent.  Come and see.

            To me it is the “come and see” aspect of this first passage that makes it so interesting.  John’s gospel always manages to surprise me in its distinct differences from the synoptic gospels.  Matthew, Mark and Luke’s gospels all record Jesus’ baptism by John the Baptist in the Jordan River.  But John’s gospel does not give that account.  Instead we read John the Baptists’ testimony to Jesus and to his identity.

            If we were to read this chapter in full, we’d see that it takes place over a few days.  Our part of the passage starts on the second day.  John sees Jesus coming toward him and declares “Here is the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world!”  The day before John was questioned by religious leaders who wanted to know who he, John, was.  They wanted to know the full scope of John’s identity.  But John tells them about another one.  John tells them that he is not the Messiah, but there is one who is the Messiah they’ve been waiting for. 

            Knowing a little more about what happens on the first day explains more fully John’s remarks on this second day.  John says, “Here is the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world.”  Then he goes on to say, this is the one I was telling you about yesterday.  He may be coming after me, but he ranks far ahead of me.  I didn’t know him, but this is why I’ve been baptizing.  And I saw the Spirit descend on him and remain there.  The one who told me to baptize told me that this is how I would recognize the Messiah.  This is the Son of God.

            We move to the third day.  This day John is standing with two of his disciples.  Jesus walks by, and as he does, John proclaims, “Look, here is the Lamb of God!”  When John’s two disciples hear this, they leave John to follow Jesus. 

            Now we come to the crux, the heart of this passage.  Jesus sees them following him, and he asks them, “What are you looking for?”  They call him “Rabbi” which the gospel writer translates for us readers as “teacher.”  They ask him am unexpected question, at least for a moment and a meeting like this.  The men ask, “Where are you staying?”  Jesus responds not by giving them directions or details.  He just says, “Come and see.”  And he leads them from that point on.  Just like that woman from Nazare who leads Rick to her home with “Come and see,” Jesus leads these new disciples with “Come and see.” 

            What we have to understand about John’s gospel is that it is a gospel of many layers of meaning.  Every question in John’s gospel means more than what it seems.  When John’s disciples ask Jesus “where are you staying?” they’re not just asking him about his place of residence.  They’re not looking for a house tour or a place to hang out for a few days.  They want to know about his relationship with God.  It’s almost as if they’re saying to Jesus, “Look our teacher, John, has proclaimed you to be the Lamb of God, so we want to know for ourselves.  If you are indeed the Lamb of God, the rabbi, the teacher we’ve been looking for, then what is your relationship to God?  Are you in intimate relationship with him?  Are you staying with God?  Teacher, where are you staying?”

            Now think about the other call narratives in the first three gospels.  Jesus goes to his earliest disciples and calls them away from their work, their previous lives, even their families.  He gives them a hint as to what they will do as disciples.  But in this narrative, the first disciples hear John’s testimony and follow.  When Jesus asks them about this, their response is to ask a question about his relationship to God.  Jesus doesn’t give them definitive answers.  He just invites them to come and see.

            Discipleship is something that you will have to experience for yourself.  You will have to follow me to witness and know my relationship with the Father.  You will have to follow me to experience who I am and what I have come to do.  If you want to be a disciple, you will have to follow me and experience it for yourselves.  If you want to be a disciple, you must come and see.

            So that’s what these new disciples did.  John’s witness has done what it was meant to do.  It has pointed them in the new direction God is taking.  They leave John and follow Jesus.  They go and see.  And from there other disciples join them.  At the end of the passage we have before us today, Andrew tells his brother Simon, “We have found the Messiah.”  Simon comes to Jesus and Jesus gives him a new name.  “You are to be called Cephas, which the passage explains is translated ‘rock’.” 

            And if we were to keep reading till the end of the chapter, we would also learn that Philip and Nathanael join Jesus as well.  All of these disciples decide to come and see Jesus for themselves.  They follow him so that they can witness and experience for themselves who this man is, this Lamb of God, this Son of God, this Rabbi, this Messiah.  Nathanael pronounces him both Son of God and King of Israel. 

            Come and see.  Jesus beckons us to follow and see for ourselves what discipleship is all about.  I find it interesting that in this passage Jesus is called by a variety of names.  In the first chapter of John’s gospel he is called by at least eight different names or titles.  That’s just the first chapter alone.  Jesus acknowledges them all.  We know that none of these names fully reveal or define the fullness of who Jesus is.  They cannot convey the glory of Jesus and what he will do.  But each person sees Jesus and recognizes Jesus in the way they most need.  John sees him as the Lamb of God, the one who takes away the sins of the world.  John has been baptizing people in preparation for this Lamb.  The disciples, wanting to learn, wanting to understand, see him as Rabbi, then as Messiah.  Nathanael, who is startled by how Jesus knows him, exclaims that he is the Son of God, the King of Israel.  They all name him in the way they understand him.  And Jesus is all of these names and more. 

            His invitation to come and see invites people to experience him and understand him in the way they need the most.  I often hear the expression that Jesus meets us where we are.  This passage exemplifies that statement.  Jesus meets all of these early disciples where they are.  Their names for him reflect their understanding of him.  I have a picture in my head of Jesus accepting each name they give him, extending his hand and inviting them to “come and see.” 

            Today and tomorrow, many of us will observe the Martin Luther King, Jr. holiday.  Today as I picture Jesus extending his hand to the disciples with the invitation to come and see, I can’t help but think of Dr. King’s “I Have a Dream” speech in front of the Lincoln Memorial in August, 1963.  The power of that speech comes not only from his substantive message and his call for justice, but for the picture he paints with his words; a picture of an America we still have not achieved. 

And so even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream. I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: "We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal.

            Come and see.

I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character. 

            Come and see.

I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, and every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight; "and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed and all flesh shall see it together."

          Come and see.

With this faith, we will be able to hew out of the mountain of despair a stone of hope. With this faith, we will be able to transform the jangling discords of our nation into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood. With this faith, we will be able to work together, to pray together, to struggle together, to go to jail together, to stand up for freedom together, knowing that we will be free one day.[1]

Come and see.

           The picture that Dr. King painted with his words was not just of a better America; it was a small glimpse of what the Kingdom of God must be.  When Jesus invited the disciples to “come and see,” it wasn’t just to sample discipleship.  It wasn’t an invitation to a Meet and Greet with God.  Jesus invited the disciples to come and see for themselves the incarnate love of God.  Come and see the Lamb of God, come to save them.  Come and see that with the coming of Jesus, comes God’s kingdom.  Come and see.  As Jesus invited them, so he invites us. Let us experience for ourselves God’s love and true power.  Let us experience for ourselves the glorious and new thing God is doing right here in our midst.  Come and see the in-breaking of the kingdom of God.  Come and see.  Come and see.  Let all God’s children say, "Alleluia!"  Amen.

---

[1] “I Have a Dream” Speech, Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. August 28, 1963, Lincoln Memorial, Washington, D.C.