Sunday, November 19, 2017

Let Go Of Your Balloon

"Let Go Of Your Balloon"
1 Thessalonians 5:16

Are you a joyful person?

Do you have a deep sense of indwelling joy?

"I've got the joy, joy, joy, joy
down in my heart
down in my heart,
down in my heart,
I've got the joy, joy, joy, joy
down in my heart,
down in my heart to stay.

Notice, I didn't ask, "Are you happy?"  If I asked that, then you'd be tempted to intellectualize your answer.  You'd respond with questions like, "What do you mean, by 'happy'?"  "Everyone defines happiness differently," you would rightly say.  But that's all just evasion so you don't have to answer the question: Are you happy?

Each of us knows the answer to that question.  It's a yes or no question.  It's not an essay question.  Yes or no—are you happy?  And, more importantly for today's message …are you a joyful person?  Yes or no?  Do you have a deep sense of indwelling joy?  Yes or no?

I'm not going to let you off the hook here.  Mainly because I wouldn't let myself off the hook as I asked myself that question all week.  I am troubled by my answer.  If I were preaching a sermon about prayer, I'd be excited about all I could say.  I know about prayer.

If I were to preach about being thankful in all circumstances, I would be excited to talk about that because I have learned so many lessons about that—the hard way.

If I were to preach about the power of the Holy Spirit, I would be excited about that, because I have done a lot of thinking and reading about the Holy Spirit in the last few years.

But talking about joy, deep indwelling joy, has me a bit nervous.  I'm not really sure if I really know what it's like to be joyful always.

I once attended a conference at a Presbyterian church in Omaha, when I was serving a church in the Lincoln area.  People were given red helium filled balloons as we entered the sanctuary.  We were told to release the balloons at some point in the service when we felt like expressing the joy in our hearts.  It was a very Presbyterian thing to do, since we Presbyterians usually don't feel free to say "Hallelujah," or, "Praise the Lord." Unless you're Alan and Jan Luttrell's granddaughter.  So, all through the service, balloons ascended.  When the service was over 1/3 of the balloons were unreleased.  One third of the people there were still holding on to their red balloon.

Did I let my balloon go?  You're wondering aren't you?  I'm sad to say, No.  I was one of the third who was still holding on to my balloon.

Am I happy?  By all outward circumstances, yes.  Mainly because happiness is dependent on outward circumstances.  Think of similar words:  happenstance, happens.  All are from the same root word, hap.  Hap means lucky, or fortunate.  Happenstance is a combination of the two words happen and circumstance.  Those all have to do with things that go on outside of ourselves that effect us internally.

So, am I happy?  I have two wonderful, amazing kids and their spouses—we have a great relationship.  I have a vocation I dearly love—being a pastor is all I have ever wanted to be.  I think I will always be a pastor, somehow, someway, even into retirement.  I am in a great congregation.  You are welcoming, and embracing, and open to new directions, and take on phenomenal local mission projects like Eagle Wings, and you are forgiving, and loving, and fun and funny.  I could go on and on about how great this congregation is.  It's a jewel, and there aren't many congregations like ours out there.  So, am I happy?  By all means, yes!  Life is good.

But am I joyful?  Do I have a deep sense of indwelling joy?  I'm not sure.  Why did I hold on to my balloon?

The word for joy in the Bible is chara.  It is where we get our English word, "Harrah!" from.  It's an expressive word that has to do with the whole person celebrating the indwelling presence of God.  Chara was a way that the early believers greeted God in the morning—with the utter joy of being alive each new day.  It was a word used when people wrote letters to each other.  The first word of the letter would be, chara!  Joy!

So why is it not my first word in the morning?  Maybe some of you are now asking yourself the same question.

Something gets in the way.  I/we allow something to get in the way.  I think I know what it is, for the most part for me.  If you answered "no" to the joyful question, or you aren't sure, then you must figure out what it is you are allowing to get in the way.  Different historic figures have tried to put their finger on their reason for a lack of joy.

The philosopher, Voltaire once wrote: "I wish I had never been born."  Clearly, though an amazing thinker, his lack of joy came from a miserable self-hatred.

Lord Byron lived a life of pleasure more than most. But he once wrote: "The worm, the canker, and grief are mine alone."  His lack of joy came from letting little things eat away at his life.

Jay Gould, the American millionaire, when dying, said: "I suppose I am the most miserable man on earth."  His lack of joy came from trying to hold on to everything he could, and never found a way to let it go.

Lord Beaconsfield enjoyed more than his share of both position and fame in society.  But in old age he wrote: "Youth is a mistake; manhood a struggle; old age a regret."  His lack of joy came from never finding anything worthwhile to really give his life to.

Or, Alexander the Great, who conquered the known world in his day, wept in his tent, before he said, "There are no more worlds to conquer."  He thought his joy was an insatiable quest for power, but found that way to joy was a lie.

For me, a large part of what has gotten in my way of the kind of joy I am trying to describe is an unyielding loneliness.  Loneliness has been, for me, like a low grade headache that won't go away.

This loneliness for me has had to do with a loss of place.  From the time I left home for college, and then to seminary, and into the ministry, I have made nine major geographical moves.  All of them have been from one state to another.  Three of them were moves half way across the country.  How many have made nine major geographical moves in the past 40 years?  Eight?  Seven?  Six?  Five?  Four?  Three?  Two?  One?  None?

When you think/when I think of place, I think of rootedness and story.  You can build your personal story best when you are rooted in one place for a long time.  I've learned that when a congregation starts telling me stories, not only about the church, but about their personal lives, they are pulling me into the story of place.  They are making me part of who and what they are.  And I am part of all that.  It's immensely embracing to hear, and be included in your story.  It makes me less lonely.  More in touch with what a deep joy is for me.

But there's this occupational hazard in the ministry that no one ever talks about.  In seminary we were taught to not make friends in the congregations we would serve.  I have failed that immensely.  The rationale for such advice was, we weren't supposed to make the congregation feel like we were playing favorites.

And the other hazard I wasn't prepared for was that we are to cut all ties with people in the congregation we are leaving.  I have already been warned by the moderator of the Committee on Ministry that I better have plans to move away from here after I retire, or suffer her friendly reprimand.

So for those nine major moves, I have had to cut off my relationships with all my friends.  At each new congregation I served, I was more and more aware about how tough and how lonely it will be to someday leave.  There is an immense importance of place, and longevity in a place, in creating and maintaining identity.  To cut myself off from past places; to move to a new place, and know it will never be my place, has been very emptying for me.  Very lonely.  And that vocational and geographical loneliness has stunted my feeling of inner joy.  No other vocation is like this, in this respect.

But something is emerging as I get closer to retirement.  Something that I think has to do with joy and not happiness.

As I pondered joy this week, it seemed one thread ran through all I read and thought about—joy comes out of nakedness.  (That got your attention, didn't it?)  Not the rip all your clothes off kind of nakedness.  So let me explain, before you get the wrong idea.

St. Francis of Assisi told about a time in which he was stripped of everything:  physical comfort, shelter, recognition, community, even identity.  He had nothing.  And then St. Francis wrote, "True joy consists in patient acceptance of this nakedness."  St. Francis was trying to make the point, not only vocationally as a priest, but also by the way he lived, "…that there is radical joy in having nothing to lose, nothing to protect, nothing to hide from, nothing to gain."  (Weavings, vol. III, no. 6, page 18)

That may sound a bit weird to you.  I thought about that a lot this week.  I think I will continue to think about it for a long time.

But here's the surprise for me.  The Women's Bible Study has been looking at the letter to the Philippians.  I've been kind of reading along, as a silent partner, in their study book.  Philippians 3:8-9 (Jerusalem Bible) caught my attention.  Verse 8 reads,
For Christ, I have accepted the loss of everything and I look on everything as so much rubbish if only I can have Christ…

I would always stop there because the verse numbering splits Paul's sentence.  This time I read on…
…if only I can have Christ and be given a place in him.  (read whole verse again)

That phrase, "…and be given a place in him…" hit me, not like a ton of bricks, but like a running embrace for which I have always longed.  I have a place!  I felt a connection with Paul—someone who also moved around a lot and was feeling place-less.  I have always had a place.  In Christ.  That loneliness I have always felt simply began to evaporate.  Why did I take so long to realize this?  In the nakedness that both St. Francis and Paul speak to, in that kind of loneliness, I discovered I really have everything!  "…If only I can have Christ and be given a place in him."

In the nakedness of my loneliness, feeling like I had no place, I discovered I really have all places…"if only I can have Christ and be given a place in him."

In the nakedness of my loneliness, understanding more fully how that loneliness blocked my joy, I discovered joy…"if only I can have Christ and be given a place in him."

Are you joyful?
Find your joy.

But I think you are going to have to look where you are most naked, in the way that St. Francis and Paul describe it.  Only then will you find your joy.  In Christ who is waiting there.

When your joy comes, when that day comes, you must release yourself to it, and give it expression.  You must let your balloon go.

Monday, November 13, 2017

The Wedding Wait Dance

"The Wedding Wait Dance"
Matthew 25:1-13

Weddings.  Ugh.  I’ve always said that I’d much rather do a funeral than a wedding.  There doesn’t seem to be any other kind of event than a wedding where Murphy’s law applies most often:  If something can go wrong it will.

The thing that’s irksome to me about weddings is that couples want to get married in a church, but have no idea why.  When I ask the “why” question, the most usual answer I get is, “That’s where a wedding is supposed to be, isn’t it?”  But they don't have an answer as to why weddings are held in churches.

And another thing that’s irksome (I have a whole list of irksome wedding things—sorry Shane and Erika) is that usually someone besides the bride and groom hijacks all the wedding planning.  Do you remember that book from quite a while ago, Everything I Learned, I Learned In Kindergarten.  Robert Fulgham, the guy who wrote it is a minister.  One of the essays was about a wedding he did where the mother-of-the-bride took over everything.  Come the day of the wedding, something went wrong that delayed the start of the wedding.  While the bride was waiting, she was snacking on reception food and glasses of champagne.  By the time the wedding processional started, the bride was green from all the food and alcohol she had consumed.  Just as she got to the front of the church, she turned to her mother, smiled awkwardly, and threw up all over her.

So it’s more than a bit disconcerting to me, that here, at the end of his life, at the time where Jesus was trying to make sure people got it, he chose this image of an emotionally laden wedding event to tell about the kingdom of God.  I think Kingdom of God...wedding...wedding...kingdom of God...and my mind just goes to a very dark place.

At the start of the gospel of John, the first “sign” Jesus did was at a wedding.  And Murphy’s Law was operating there as well, since they ran out of wine.  If something can go wrong, it does.  Jesus had to bail the wedding host out by turning water into wine.  You think that Jesus would have gotten it, that weddings may not have been the best symbol for the Kingdom of God.  But evidently not, because here we are, near the end of his ministry, he is talking about the Kingdom of God, and what does he liken the Kingdom to?  Weddings.

Here’s what happened at weddings in Jesus’ day.  The guests would all get together at the home of the bride.  If the bride and groom were from a small town or village, everyone would be invited.  It was the bride's parents job to entertain all these people while they waited for the groom to show up.  The groom, not the bride, was the most important person at a Middle Eastern wedding.

When the groom showed up, all the guests lit lamps, or torches, and in a parade-like procession, walked to the groom’s home where his parents were waiting to start the ceremony.  After the ceremony there would be a great banquet that would go on for days.

In Jesus’ parable here in Matthew 25, Murphy’s law strikes again:  the groom is delayed several hours.  Even though there is an expected timeline for these kinds of events, those expectations are irritatingly dashed by some kind of delay by the groom.  We aren’t told in the parable what caused the delay.  We Americans read that line in the parable and immediately bristle.

We hate delays.  We hate to wait.  We can’t stand it when:
—we are put on hold with a customer service representative named Achmed who lives in Pakistan;
—we are stopped at a highway construction site, and the pilot car is no where in sight;
—we are having to read all the magazines at the doctor’s office because they don’t seem to know how an appointment works;
—Amazon ran out of what you ordered, and it will take two whole days more to get what you want.

As a result, we value a more fast-paced world.  Faster communications, faster food, faster weight loss, faster job advancement, faster answers to prayer.  I read this week about a new phenomenon called, “speed yoga.” That sounds like one of those oxymoron’s.   But it might be fun to watch (mimic a speed yoga session).



I also read this week about a new movement called the Slow Revolution, or the Slow Movement.  It has sprung up in the last couple of years as a criticism and balance to the growing global addiction to the fastness of things.  Carl Honore, one of the voices of the Slow Revolution said, “...the world has become a giant buffet of things to do, consume, experience—and we rush to have it all.”

Tiredness is a symptom of trying to take life at too fast a pace.

So is not engaging deeply in and with the people and events of your life, because you’re living too fast?  Think about that.  How deeply are you engaged with others and the things that happen in the now?  One of the statements that gave me pause to reflect, as I read more about this Slow Revolution, was this:  “Going too fast keeps you from (having) vivid memories.” Doesn’t that just slap you up the side of your head?  Taking life at too fast of a pace makes everything a surface experience.  Nothing sinks in.  There is no depth.  No time to fully experience.  No relaxing reflection.  No “vivid memories.”  Does that not strike you as sad, but true?

OK.  So what does all that have to do with Jesus’ parable?  The groom delayed arriving.  Which meant the guests were waiting.  At the bride’s parents home.  Who have to entertain all those waiting guests for hours.  Hours nobody signed up for.  Imagine the house full of guests are all Americans.  Impatient.  Checking their watches or smart phones every five minutes, wondering when this dog-and-pony show will be over so the real thing they came for can get started, so the ceremony can be over, so the reception can start, and the liquor starts flowing.  “C’mon!  Where’s the groom?  Let’s get this show on the road.  We have places to go, people to see!”

Now here’s the kicker.  Whenever Jesus told a parable about a wedding or a groom, the groom usually represented himself.  Oooh, snap.  Here we have a parable about the Kingdom of God and a groom and waiting.  So it’s not just a groom we’re waiting on.  It’s the very Kingdom of God and the very Savior Jesus.  The parable is forcing us to deal with our patience and our comfort level with waiting and delays, especially as those perceived delays involve God.  How long can we wait on God to arrive and act before we start grumbling?  How much do we build into our lives the readiness to wait on God, no matter how long it takes?  How do we act if we don't think God is showing up quickly enough to take care of what we want God to take care of?

That’s why the wise girls are let into the wedding celebration when the groom finally arrives.  They had extra oil for their lamps.  What does that mean?  It means they were prepared to wait.  It means they were willing to live their lives prepared for the groom's timeline, not theirs.

The foolish girls only brought enough oil for their lamps to last the limit of their own expectations.  If the groom didn’t come by the time their lamps ran out and their flames went out, too bad for the groom.  It’s his loss.  It means the unwise girls were more concerned about their own agenda, rather than the timing of the groom.

It’s all about timing.  And whose timing.  And what we do during the delay.  And if we are prepared for, and comfortable with waiting on God.  Like I said, Jesus didn’t give us any details about why the groom delayed so long.  It was evidently the grooms own business.  And the delay wasn’t contingent on the patience or impatience of the guests.

But I’m going to toss you an idea about the reason for the delay—those times you are waiting, and waiting, and waiting on God.  Remember I mentioned the “vivid memories”?  Maybe in your waiting, maybe in your test of patience, the Lord has one or two vivid memories he needs you to make.  But in order to pass those on to you, the Lord needs to get you to slow down from all the speed of life, all the surface living you’re doing, and get you to rest, to relax, to breathe, to even sleep (as the girls did in the parable), to reflect on that which will give you something—a vivid memory—you will never forget.  And it may have nothing to do with the thing you are waiting for during the delay.  The Lord, the Groom, only knows.

Then, when the Groom arrives, you will truly be ready to receive him, to go into the celebration with him, and smile like you’ve never smiled before.

Monday, November 6, 2017

Rulz

"Rulz"
Matthew 23:1-12

I was talking with Jennifer a week ago, or so, about some of the results of the survey the Pastor Nominating Committee has emailed out.  According to an early assessment of the early results of the survey, it appears even Jesus may not measure up to what people want of their next Pastor.

So I shared with Jennifer a version of the description of the perfect pastor that has been going around on the internet for a number of years.  The following is a variation of what I sent Jennifer.  This version is a chain letter about the perfect pastor.  This is what it says.

The following is a description of a perfect pastor.  A perfect pastor is one who preaches exactly 20 minutes, but who shares with people the wisdom of the ages.
The perfect pastor condemns sin but never hurts anyone's feelings.
The perfect pastor works from 6 a.m. until midnight, and is also the janitor.
The perfect pastor makes $100 a week, wears good clothes, buys good books, drives a nice car, and gives $75 a week to the church.
The perfect pastor is good looking.
The perfect pastor loves to work with the youth, and spends most of the time with older folks.
The perfect pastor smiles all the time with a straight face, has a great sense of humor and is seriously dedicated to the work of the ministry.
The perfect pastor makes 25 visits a day on church members, yet spends most of the time evangelizing the unchurched and is always in the office if and when needed.

If your pastor does not measure up to this description, box up your pastor and send him/her to the church at the top of the chain letter list.  In one week you will receive 1,562 pastors.  One of them should be perfect.  Please follow the instructions closely.  Don't break the chain.  One church broke the chain and got its old pastor back.

I've seen a number of lists like this.  Someone has even made a poster of the perfect pastor with a number of the same details.  What is interesting to me is that I have not seen a similar list, from the Pastor's point of view, of what they think the perfect church member, or the perfect congregation would look like.

I know ministers get together and grumble from time to time.  But the wisest of pastors I know have come to terms with the fact that there is no perfect congregation.  And the wisest congregations I know have come to terms with the fact there are no perfect pastors.

And a further truth is, we are all ministers.  The dividing line between ministers and parishioners is a false one.  We are all trying to do the best we can in the work of Christ in this place.  We all struggle with how to be effective in our own ways in this thing called ministry.

Maybe you have asked yourself, What can I do in service to the Lord?  How can I know that I've made some impact on other people's lives in the name of Christ?  How do I best do ministry?

When I am asking myself these kinds of questions, I turn to the 23rd chapter of Matthew's gospel.  In this chapter, Jesus is frustrated. He is frustrated by people who are trying to be ministers but they're going about it all wrong.  They are asking themselves the same kinds of questions we ask ourselves, but their answers are all wrong.

A businessman decided to move his family to the country because he wanted to be a chicken farmer.  So he got a batch of eggs and started to work.  But all the eggs died.  He got another batch of eggs and tried to get them to hatch.  Not one of them did.  So, he went to his county agent and tried to find out what he was doing wrong.  He looked at the agent and said, "Am I planting the eggs too deep or too far apart."

Jesus is telling the disciples and the crowd that those who are going about the ministry all wrong have the eggs, they have the tools, they have the farm, but they are using the right things in the wrong way.  By listening to what Jesus says the ministry is not, we discover what Jesus thinks the ministry is.  By listening to how Jesus tells the people how ministry is being done wrong, we find out at the same time how to do the ministry right.

One side fact you need to remember is that the Pharisees, to whom Jesus was talking, were not priests, they weren't ordained, nor were they clergy in any way.  They were lay people.  Parishoners.  Church members, trying to be more intentional about being ministers.  They were like you.  So let's turn to Matthew 23 and see what Jesus said about how they went wrong, so that we won't make the same mistakes.

First, Jesus said that the people who were trying to be serious about doing ministry didn't practice what they preached.  The problem wasn't with what they were saying.  It wasn't their preaching.

They weren't like the minister who was preaching his sermon when a man in the back pew turned his head to one side and said, "Louder!"  The preacher raised his voice a notch and continued his sermon, which was not too interesting.  After a few more minutes the man said again, "Louder!"  The preacher raised his volume even more and continued on.  But by now, the sermon had become really boring.  The man in back said again, "Louder!"
At this point a man on the front row turned and yelled back to the man in rear, "What's the matter, can't you hear back there?"
"No," said the man in the back.
"Well," said the man down front, "move over, I'm come back to join you."

The people Jesus was talking about, on the other hand, knew how to communicate.  They were good story tellers.  They had all the right scripture memorized.  In fact, they knew their Bibles from the front cover to the back.  There was just one problem, said Jesus.  They weren't listening to their own preaching and teaching.  They didn't do what they were telling everyone else to do.  They weren't following the advice they were doling out.  They weren't practicing what they were preaching.  There was a huge gulf between what they said and how they acted.

By telling people how ministry should not be done, Jesus is telling us at the same time how it should be done.  If you want to be an effective follower of Jesus, what is vitally important is that how you live be in line with what you profess.  People who are observing you, who may not be believers, are trying to gauge how much you really believe what you are saying you believe.  The only way to figure that out is by how much you put into action, how much you practice, what you say you believe.

My brother in Minneapolis put up a post on Facebook that told about an older couple from that area.  They were found in their home frozen to death.  They had had their electricity shut off.  They were apparently eating dog food out of the can for their meals.  There were two ironies about this frozen couple.  The first was, in their closet, a suitcase was found with $60,000 in cash.  The other irony was that this couple volunteered at the local community health clinic, teaching the poorer people in the Minneapolis area about proper personal hygiene and food preparation.

What Jesus is saying here is clear.  What it really comes down to is not what you teach.  You can still be an effective teacher just spouting information, Bible verses, theology, or, evidently, hygiene and food preparation.  But you can be much more effective in your ministry if you make sure that how you live is the same as what you teach and what you profess.  That's called integrity.  Integrity is the best witness.  Integrity is that quality where what you believe comes together with how you live.  Integrity, says Jesus, is the most profound way to do ministry.


The next rule Jesus addressed had to do with the rules themselves.  How'd we get so many rules?  That's the question Jesus is asking.  Who made up all these rules, and why are people trying to carry them all around like a burden strapped to their backs?  Why do religious leaders push so many rules at people, and why do people accept those rules as the gospel?  What is Christ's ministry and teaching and sacrifice on the Cross all about, anyway?

Let me read to you a list of verses that answer those questions and see if you pick up on the most important word in all of them:
For freedom Christ has set us free.  Never again let anyone put a harness of slavery on you.  (Galatians 5:1)
God has called you to a life of freedom.  (Galatians 5:13)
You shall know the truth and the truth will make you free.  If the son set you free you are free indeed…  (John 8:32, 36)
Live as free people… (Hebrews 2:16)
My friend, the message is that Jesus can forgive your sins!  Trying to follow all the religious laws to the letter could not set you free from all your sins.  But everyone who has faith in Jesus is set free.  (Acts 13:38-39)
The Holy Spirit will give you life that comes from Christ Jesus and will set you free from sin and death.  (Romans 8:2)

Did you catch the key word in all those verses?  What was it?  (Free/Freedom)  You are free!  Free from what?  You are set free from a tyranny of shoulds and oughts, rules and regulations, heaps of expectations, loads of guilt ridden intimidation.  You are free because God in Christ has forgiven you.  God has forgiven all those who make too many religious rules and those who break too many religious rules.  God has forgiven it all.

If it is forgiven, then why are we still carrying it around?  Let it go.  In fact, what I think Jesus is saying here is that those who want to be effective in their ministry are the ones who loosen burdens, not add to them.  Ministry is not about pushing burdensome religiosity.  Ministry is not about loading people up with guilt and then saying, "Have a nice day."  Ministry is about helping each other become relieved of all that, ripped off of us if need be.

As ministers to one another, we can't allow each other, in the name of Christ, to take our Christian beliefs and turn them into a bully stick of do's and don'ts, and beat each other over the head with it.  Why do we do that to ourselves?

I attended a preaching seminar in Dallas early in my ministry.  Someone asked the minister who was leading this one particular workshop why his loud, more forceful preaching of his younger days had given way to a quieter, more persuasive manner of preaching. The minister laughed and said, "When I was young I thought it was the thunder that convinced people; but when I grew older I discovered it was the lightening.  So I determined that in the future I would thunder less and lighten more."

That's the role of effective ministry, says Jesus to the disciples and the crowd.  Ministry is about the business of lightening people's loads, not adding to them.  Don't carry all that stuff around:  guilt, confusion, shoulds and oughts, a sense of unforgiveness.  Be free.  Get together with another follower in this sanctuary and through confidential, prayerful conversation, help each other take the load off.  There is no greater ministry than that of lightening people's loads.

The last point I would make (since I need to come close to my 20 minutes for this to be a perfect sermon) is that Jesus is telling people that to be effective in ministry, you must make proper use of Scripture and prayer.  That is, the spiritual life, the life of scripture and prayer, is more internal than external.  Those doing ministry in Jesus day got this mixed up.  God gave the following commandment:
And these words which I command you this day shall be upon your heart; and you shall teach them diligently to your children, and shall talk of them when you sit in your house, and when you walk by the way, and when you lie down, and when you rise.  And you shall bind them as a sign upon your hand, and they shall be as frontlets between your eyes.  And you shall write them on the doorposts of your house and on your gates.  (Deuteronomy 6:4-9)

People thought God meant this literally.  I think what God wanted the people to do was to put God's teaching foremost in their minds and hearts.  Read it as often as possible.  Read it not just to read it, but so that it will become part of your thinking and feeling and daily living.  Make sure God's word is in front of you, visible, and attention grabbing.  Read it.  Pray it.  Live it.

But instead, people were wearing little boxes tied to straps that dangled right between their eyes that had tiny scripture verses inside.  They literally wrote scripture on their door posts and gates.  They wrote scripture on their wrists and hands.  They did all that because they took this verse in Deuteronomy literally.  They made their spirituality a matter of external scripture boxes, tattoos and graffiti rather than an internal matter of the heart and mind.

The spiritual life of scripture reading and of prayer is something you do like eating.  If you just paint scripture on your door post, you can walk by it everyday and forget it's there.  But if it's like eating you chew on it, you digest it.  You let it become a part of you, nourishing every part of you, informing every decision you make.  Scripture, in this way, must also be allowed to subvert, if necessary, our prejudices, our laziness, and our half-hearted commitment and faith.

Doing effective ministry means not treating our spiritual life of prayer and scripture reading as simply some adornment.  We are not to let our spirituality become only a piece of jewelry, or a bumper sticker.  To do that is to make a gross miscalculation of the purpose and power of scripture and prayer.

There are lots of ways to do ministry.  The key is not to get side-tracked into doing ministry in an ineffective way.  We all want to be faithful.  We all want to be ministers for Christ in some way.  Paying attention to Jesus' assessment of what effective ministry is NOT, here in Matthew 23, helps us see what Jesus thinks effective ministry really IS.