Sunday, June 24, 2018

My Final Four Sermons: "You Will Be Here"

My Final Four Sermons:  "You Will Be Here"
Acts 9:1-6

Back when I was in seminary, a psychologist friend of mine recommended I read a book he had picked up.  The title of the book is, The Origin of Consciousness in the Breakdown of the Bicameral Mind, by Julian Jaynes.  Quite a title.  It was almost an intimidating enough title to keep me from picking it up and read it.

But I did.

One of the main ideas of the author has to do with the structure of the brain and how the brain works.  The brain is formed in two halves, or hemispheres.  The left, major, hemisphere controls logic and math and science, etc.  The right hemisphere controls language and art and music.

In between the two hemispheres is what's called the corpus colosseum.  That part of the brain controls how the two hemispheres communicate with each other, to either blend their strengths or over-power one or the the other.  That communication of the hemispheres is called consciousness.

Now here's Julian Jaynes theory.  Jaynes says that prior to 3 or 4 thousand years ago, humans had no working corpus colosseum—no fully developed individual consciousness.

So what? you say.  And so did I as I was reading this book.  I almost put it down.  Though I like reading about the brain function research, this was all a bit too much.

But then it got interesting.

According to Jaynes, prior to about 3 or 4 thousand years ago, because there was no constant connection between the brain's hemispheres, one side didn't know how to interpret when a rare message fired from one hemisphere to another.  People, according to Jaynes, interpreted this activity of the brain as hearing the Voice of God.

People thought God was talking to them, when in reality it was just the beginnings of the corpus colosseum firing messages back and forth between the hemispheres.  Once full communication between each half of the brain created a whole, there was no reason for God.  There really was no Voice of God anymore.

Thus the reason my psychologist friend asked me to read that book.  That we have misinterpreted basic brain function, the emergence of consciousness, for the Voice of God.

One reviewer of this book recently wrote, "(This book is) either a work of unparalleled genius, or completely out-to-lunch loopy."  Yeah.  But those are the kinds of reactions you get when you talk about the Voice of God, or hearing from God, or thinking about prayer.  Does God really talk to us, or are we just talking to ourselves?  Is this just the two hemispheres of our brain messing with us, or does God really speak to us?

Personally, I have to say ,"Yes", I believe—I know—God speaks to us, because God has spoken to me on several occasions.  None of those times has it been weird, or potentially destructive.  Like, "Take all your people out into the jungle and have them drink the koolaid."

Nothing like the guy I was talking to in a psyche ward one time.  He told me God spoke to him.  I asked, "How does God speak to you?"  I was genuinely interested.
He said, "God comes down into my dog.  Then my dog splits in half, and there's a good half and a bad half.  Sometimes God talks to me out of the good part of the dog, and sometimes God speaks to me out of the bad part, and tells me to do bad things."
The guy stared into my eyes without blinking, looking to see if I believed him.  He clearly believed it himself.  I didn't.

I'm happy to say God has never spoken to me like that.  Each time God's Voice has been affirming.  And brought me back to my original call, which was the first time God spoke to me.  At least the first time I was listening.

I've told the story before.  I was a 7th grader sitting in church with my mom.  Just me and her—the rest of my family was not really into going to church.  But I loved going to church with my mom—I felt like a grown up.

During the sermon, I felt God's Voice say, "Steve, this is what I want you to do."  That was it.  I say I "felt" God's Voice, because each time God has spoken to me, I felt it rather than heard it.  It was like feeling a beautiful piece of music that you hear for the very first time.  It has a way of reaching down into you, penetrating you.

I was so sure of what I heard, I looked around to see if anyone else in the congregation had heard, or felt that Voice.

I sometimes chuckle to myself when I think back to that day.  Because, that Sunday, a harpist was accompanying the church choir.  Hopefully, when God said, "This is what I want you to do," the Lord didn't mean for me to become a harpist.  If so, I severely missed my calling, misread God's Voice, and have wasted the last 40 years of my life.

That's what I've come to believe is one of the main things the Voice of God does—sets your direction, opens your eyes to your purpose, makes you become aware of your gifts and how to use them.  I believe God likes to set people on a journey—an adventure—that you don't entirely know where it's going to lead you.  But the Voice of God sets you out.
The apostle Paul is a great example of that.  Originally, Paul set himself out on his own journey—and was making a mess of it.  Paul had become a well-meaning destroyer.  As the saying goes, "The road to hell is paved with good intentions."  That's the journey Paul had put himself on.

It took the Voice of God to knock Paul off the path of that self-guided and destructive journey.  Notice how Paul was knocked to the the ground by the Voice.  Paul didn't just hear the Voice of God.  He felt the Voice of God.  And it had the power to put him on the ground.

Then it's important to understand what the Voice said next, once Paul was on the ground:  "Now get up and go into the city.  There you will be told what you must do."  The Voice of God was about putting Paul on a new journey, a new mission, a new adventure.  That journey was a religious one, but totally different from the one Paul had chosen for himself.

That's what the Voice of God does.  Sometimes shakes up your world.  Sometimes affirms you to stay the course you are on.

One of the churches I served I both liked and hated at the same time.  There were times I didn't think I could last another day.  If that was what the ministry was all about, I was done.  My kids were similarly miserable.

I started looking into getting out.  I started looking into becoming a political or corporate speech writer.  One of the things you may not know is that I really enjoy writing sermons.  I just don't enjoy preaching them.

So, I thought if I could get a job writing speeches, that other people gave, I'd be happy.  I started making contacts with some political speech writers, and one guy in particular was very encouraging.  Through him I was making a lot of contacts with others in that profession.  I was about ready to make the jump.

But then the Voice of God came again.  I used to walk out this dirt road during lunch time.  I was walking and pondering.  The Voice came and I was suddenly put on my knees.  God said, "Steve, you will always be a pastor—and I need you here in this church."  That was all God said.  I broke down, overpowered and in tears.

Again, God's Voice affirmed my call, took me back to that time when I was set out on this adventure.  God again called me by name—God's Voice likes to use names.  God did the same with Paul.  With each of the disciples.  And with some of you, who have told me your stories.

God's Voice set me back on my original journey, and wouldn't let me veer away from that.  That day, that Voice surprised me, because I was thinking and planning to leave my journey.  Give up on my vocation given me by God.  You'd think God would have been angry about what I was planning.  Instead, God's Voice came at me with nothing but affirmation.  I felt affirmed by that Voice, not disciplined.

Paul's life and journey were not perfect by any means.  He struggled with something that grabbed him and wouldn't let go.  He called it "a thorn in the flesh."  No one knows what it was.  I think it was something emotional, like guilt or shame.  Maybe I'm just reading my own experience into it.  Just a hunch I have about Paul.

Prior to coming here, I had gotten myself into a hot mess in California.  I didn't handle a grief-filled event very well.  The presbytery there didn't think I was ready to get back into the ministry.  They dragged their feet about releasing me, and I was becoming more and more despondent.

I moved back out to Kansas and put myself in Charlie and Joan Ayers care out in Leoti.  Charlie did all he could, but the Committee on Ministry in the San Joaquin Presbytery wouldn't budge.

We got Don Owens involved, who was the presbytery Executive here in Southern Kansas.  Unbeknownst to me, at a General Assembly meeting, Don took the executive from the San Joaquin presbytery behind the woodshed and let him have it.

Whether the presbytery out there would release me or not, Don and the COM here wanted to force their hand by pushing ahead.  I was to meet with the COM here in Pratt.  I was sitting up in the tiny lounge waiting to be called down.  Angela was still here—I think in her last week.

So, I'm just sitting there, as nervous as a cat getting a bath.  Then came the Voice.  All the Voice said was, "Steve, you will be here."  That was it.  That was all the Voice said.  I had no sense of deserving to be anywhere, at that point.  I just wanted out from under the thumb of the California presbytery.  I was feeling guilty and ashamed.  Knowing I was going to have to tell the COM here my whole story.

To be told, by the Voice of God I would be here was beyond belief.  In fact, I didn't believe it.

I was beckoned downstairs.  I told my story.  I broke down a couple of times.  Then they spoke.  They said that from what I told them and what Don Owens found out, the COM out in California had totally mishandled my case.  And the people sitting around the table were angrier than I was about it.

Don Owens said his conversation with the exec out there worked.  They were releasing me into this presbytery's "custody," Don said with a smile.  My ordeal was over.

After the meeting was over, Don said to me, "I want you to think about being interim Pastor here in Pratt.  I'm going to give your name to the Session.  Which he did.

So, in one day, God's Voice spoke:  "You will be here."  I was released to this presbytery.  And I was going to be considered as interim of this church.  Again, a huge affirmation of my call, bringing me back to the journey God put me on starting way back as a 7th grader.  It was like the dark cloud over me evaporated, and I was suddenly affirmed and embraced by the Voice.


8 1/2 years later I'm at the end.  Not just the end of my ministry here in Pratt, but my ministry vocation.  I don't believe the Voice has stopped speaking.  With each transition, God kept speaking.  That Voice kept being felt.  The journey continued.  The journey still continues.  The adventure continues.

For both of us, you all and me.  There are many here who have felt that Voice—who feel it still.  Who are following that Voice and leading the church as God's Voice directs.  Follow them, as they follow the Voice.  Listen, as I continue to do, and see where God’s Voice leads.

No comments:

Post a Comment