Broadway Christian Church · Columbia, Missouri

The Worship of God · January 17, 2010

Litany of Praise and Invocation

From Psalm 36  

Your steadfast love soars high as the skies,

stands strong like mighty mountains,

and goes deep like the oceans.

          We gather like chicks

         under the shadow of your wings.

You quench our thirst as from an ever-flowing fountain

          and satisfy our hunger with the food that lasts.

Let us pray:

          In your light is more light, O God;

         we look for the star of your rising,

          the light that casts out all darkness.  Amen.

Pastoral Prayer

Tim Carson

When we dare take refuge under the shadow of your wings, O God, you leave no room for the inferior aspects of our souls to come along; we have to leave many things behind.  So we ask not for easy consolations that require nothing of us, but rather for the consolations that create in us new hearts.  That is the comfort we seek and seek without pause, without hesitancy, and without making excuses.  We will not seek your steadfast love without extending it to our neighbor as well.

Whether our cries rise to you from the rubble of fallen buildings, or the rubble of broken dreams, or the rubble of persistent injustice, we know that you love with a perfect love before our prayers leave our lips.  So draw us toward the prayers we utter and the reason they are uttered that we might act on what we believe and live out what lives in us.  For you are the author of transforming love, and those who live in love live in you.

God of justice and of all those who call for it on your behalf:

Spread your power like a healing blanket on every unfairness, every misuse of power, every self-centered thought that keeps us heartless or hopeless.  And when we do not know what is right, or when we do know what is right but are afraid to do it, let your Spirit be the wind beneath our wings to bring a new day.  

God of mercy, who waters this parched land and makes us to rest by still waters:

The burden of righting the wrongs, bringing about peace, and living for a greater good is too heavy without you.  Without the grace and encouragement of your Spirit, we are not able.  But with you, all things are possible, even the challenges presented by these crusty hearts.  How steadfast is your love among us!

And so we dare to pray the prayer of the One who knew both your justice and your mercy in his living, his dying, and his rising, our Lord Jesus, who taught us to pray…

Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed by thy name. Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread and forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil, for thine is the kingdom, the power and the glory, forever. Amen.

New Testament Lesson

John 2:1-11

On the third day there was a wedding in Cana of Galilee, and the mother of Jesus was there. Jesus and his disciples had also been invited to the wedding. When the wine gave out, the mother of Jesus said to him, “They have no wine.” And Jesus said to her, “Woman, what concern is that to you and to me? My hour has not yet come.” His mother said to the servants, “Do whatever he tells you.” Now standing there were six stone water jars for the Jewish rites of purification, each holding twenty or thirty gallons. Jesus said to them, “Fill the jars with water,” And they filled them up to the brim. He said to them, “Now draw some out, and take it to the chief steward.” So they took it. When the steward tasted the water that had become wine, and did not know where it came from (though the servants who had drawn the water knew), the steward called the bridegroom and said to him, “Everyone serves the good wine first, and then the inferior wine after the guests have become drunk. But you have kept the good wine until now.” Jesus did this, the first of his signs, in Cana of Galilee, and revealed his glory; and his disciples believed in him.

Message

 New Beginnings

Jacob Thorne

Well, almost exactly 11 years ago from today, I started my career as a true college freshman for the second time. You see; in the fall of 1998, I was all set to go to college. For years, we had been coming to Columbia to watch the football games, to visit family members. I had the chant learned well, “M-I-Z. Z-O-U!” I knew what it meant to be a Tiger. In my mind, everything was mapped out perfectly. I knew where I was going. I knew what I wanted to do.

The night before I left for college, my parents had this special going-away dinner for me. My Dad presented me with a dictionary, just as his Dad had done the night before he left for college. My grandmother was there, and she wished me the best of luck. My sister was there, and she said, “I’m so happy you are going!” (Lots of love.)

The next morning, we loaded everything in the car. (Now, I brought a map just to show you.) I’m from a small community near St. Joseph, Missouri. It is in the northwest corner of Missouri. My mailing address is Savannah, Missouri, but really, it is on the farm in Avenue City, Missourah. Maybe you’ve heard of it.

We drove to Columbia, and everything went fine. We got to the fraternity house, which my parents may not have been that happy about, but they didn’t say anything against it. We unloaded everything. We went back to the parking lot. That is sort of an awkward moment. We gave each other a hug. I’m fairly sure I saw a tear in my Dad’s eye. They got in the car and drove off. I remember standing there on College Ave. just waving good-bye and thinking, “Wow! This is really like a rite of passage. I’m very excited.”

Those first few weeks were exactly what I envisioned college to be: huge, huge lecture-hall classes, several crazy professors (some of them may be here today, actually), many new friends, and some great college parties. However, after just a week or two, I started feeling very sick. Like miserably sick. No matter what I tried to do, I wouldn’t feel any better. 

At the first home football game, my parents had already made plans to come. They came to see the game and to visit me. They pulled back into the parking lot. My Mom took one look at me, as only a mother can do. She said, “We are going straight to the doctor.”

We got to the doctor, and the doctor asked, “Have you been feeling badly?”

“Well, I haven’t been feeling very good.”

They took my temperature. It was almost 103 degrees. Then he started looking at me. He said, “Your spleen is very enlarged. I’m sorry to tell you this, but you have a really severe case of mono.”

Now you can laugh. I can hear the chuckles. I know that mono is “the kissing disease.” It wasn’t the case for me. Perhaps regrettably. But I was sick! 

We drove back to the fraternity house. My Mom loaded me up with all these medicines, but no matter what I did, I couldn’t get any better. Before I knew it, my skin turned jaundiced. My eyes turned jaundiced. I lost 30 pounds. I couldn’t eat anything. I had to drop out of college that first semester. My college career was over before it even started. I was just too sick. At a young age like that, it was a traumatic event.

The second time, when I went back to college, in January on Martin Luther King weekend, I knew how important the second beginning was. I wanted to do things right. I wanted to study hard and make straight A’s. But I was scared of going back, because, to be perfectly honest, I was quite content staying on my parents’ farm. I needed reassurance that things were going to be OK. Even more than reassurance, I needed the voices of my parents – the voice of my mother – telling me, “This is what you need to do. Now, go!”

Our gospel reading this morning, taken from the gospel of John, unlike the other three gospels, has a very different tone to it. John is always just a little bit edgy. He is defensive. If you met him, you probably wouldn’t really like him. 

He claims that the world is against him, but he has a reason for all of this. Because John was writing quite a bit later than the other three gospel writers were, sometime at the end of the first century. During this time, events had not gone at all as they had been planned. The Jewish temple had been destroyed. It was the center for the Jewish people; it was their place of worship – their identity. Secondly, and perhaps more significantly, Jesus had not returned as many people expected he would. The earlier gospels all assumed that the triumphal return of Jesus would take place during their lifetime. Over the years, however, it became clear that Jesus wasn’t coming back anytime soon. Their vision of the future, their map of the future, had been completely overturned.

John knew, just as I knew when I returned to M.U., and just as you know, as well, how important it is to get things right the second time, when you go back to start over. When you react to an event that did not go as you had planned, you are extremely particular about the choices you make in the fork of the road.

Why, out of all the stories and miracles of Jesus, does John have the wedding story at Cana as the very first miracle of Jesus? There has to be something significant about it.

If you read the Greek and study the writings of the scholars, it is obvious the story of the wedding at Cana is full of symbolism. There are many veiled references. The water represents purification. The wine represents something sweet, something that is made new. The number of stone jars – six – emphasizes the extravagance of the miracle. Six stone jars; times 30 gallons of wine: that is 180 gallons of wine. That is a party! And the word “hour” points ahead to Jesus’ crucifixion.

Behind all of this, there is something more. There is something deeper. There is something more powerful. Clearly, this transformation of the water into wine is the central act of the story. But none of this would take place without the urging of Jesus’ mother, Mary. Mary appears only twice in the gospel of John. In the very beginning, at the wedding, the first act of Jesus’ love, and at the very end – his final act of love. [Editor’s note: Jacob pointed to the cross hanging at the front of the sanctuary.]

John wants the reader to know that when Mary appears, something very significant is about to happen.  When he is asked by his mother to perform the miracle, Jesus, for whatever reason, does not want to do so. He says to his mother, “This isn’t our problem. My time has not yet arrived.”

But Mary, even though the command is not made explicit, tells Jesus that he really must perform the miracle. We all know what it is like when your Mama gives you the eye! Even Jesus complies. What Mary does is prompt Jesus to do what needed to be done. 

If you think about it, it makes perfect sense. So often in life, we are afraid to use our talents and our gifts. We are afraid we may not have what it takes to succeed. Maybe we are afraid that, behind it all, we are just posing. We are just playing out the role that the world expects us to be. Sometimes we just need to be prompted or urged in the right direction.

There is this great line from Shakespeare that sums it all up: “Some are born great. Some achieve greatness. And some have greatness thrust upon them.”

Even Jesus, in the gospel of John, is thrust into greatness by the urging of his mother.

Our natural reaction is to say “No,” to back pedal.  “You do not have the right person. It is not God calling me to a particular ministry or mission.” However, so often, God’s calling is first in the prompting and encouragement of others.

I think John also chooses this story in order to make the connection between Moses and Jesus – between the old and new – a thread of continuity. Moses was the liberating leader of the Hebrew people. Jesus is the liberator of us. 

Moses also performed miracles with water. The first and lesser-known miracle occurs when Moses, in an effort to show pharaoh he had been given special gifts from God, turns water into blood. The second miracle, the better-known miracle, occurs when Moses parts the sea for the passage of his people. But just like Jesus, in the gospel of John, Moses also needed to be prompted. 

When Moses was just an infant, the Hebrew people were made slaves. A decree was sent out from the pharaoh for all the Hebrew babies to be killed. One baby escaped – Moses. The pharaoh’s daughter saved Moses. He is raised in the lap of luxury. He is raised in the palace. 

But one day Moses sees how the Hebrew people are being treated. In anger, a range swells up inside of him. It was a feeling Moses had never experienced before. Instead of using his royalty and his political power, Moses kills an Egyptian. Just like that, he becomes a fugitive. His talents are wasted. He flees the country. For the next 60 years, he wanders in the wilderness taking care of sheep.

Then, one day, Moses sees a burning bush. The voice of God asks Moses, “Have you forgotten what it was like when you saw your fellow Hebrew being mistreated? You missed out the first time,” said God, “but now I am calling you back. I am calling you, Moses, to be a leader of my people.”

Moses, of course, begins to make all sorts of excuses. In Exodus 4:10, it comes to a big finale when Moses says, “Lord, I have never been eloquent, neither in the past nor now. I am slow of speech and slow of tongue.”

But God tells Moses to go. God says, “I will help you speak.” The call of Moses, like the story of Jesus in his first miracle, is a story of being taunted.

Ultimately, the question is this: “Are you will to say, ‘Yes,’ even when you want to say, ‘No’? Are you willing to get back on track, even when you would just like to stay back on the farm?”

Almost 20 years ago, the church I was raised in – First Christian Church, St. Joseph, MO – started a camp called “Royal Family Kids’ Camp.” Royal Family Kids’ Camp is a camp for abused and neglected children. For one week – seven days, 24-hours a day – volunteers of the church donate their time as counselors, as grandmas and grandpas of the camp, as special friends, as cooks, as leaders in the craft room, and they work with these children. They help them experience the love of a church family.

The first time I attended this camp as a counselor, I was assigned to this young man named Scott. I have to tell you; working with Scott was a struggle. He was extremely enthusiastic. He had lots of energy. He was wound for sound. He didn’t believe in any of the camp rules. Even though he was noisy, he didn’t like to engage in conversation. It was a struggle.

But Scott had this deep, deep heart for others. During craft time, he would make these projects and then give them as gifts to his counselors and camp friends. One afternoon, I noticed he was putting together a collage of photos taken from pictures and magazines. He was very proud of it. I said, “Scott, what is this?”

Scott said, “This is a picture of my church family.”

The highlight for many of these campers was the swimming pool. Every afternoon, they were able to swim for several hours. On the second or third day of camp, I remember going to the pool with Scott. He was standing at the edge of the water, getting ready to jump in. I looked at him, and he had big scars on his stomach. I said, “Scott, what is this from?”

He said, “My Dad cut me with a hacksaw when I was two.”

The reason I am sharing Scott’s story is because it so closely relates to what the gospel writer John is trying to convey. The director of Royal Family Kids’ Camp is Sandy. For the past 20 years, Sandy has devoted her time and her energies to directing the camp in the summer. During the school year, she is a teacher.  

I remember 20 years ago, when my minister first asked Sandy to direct the camp what her response was. She said, “No way! I am not doing that. I do not have those gifts, and that takes way too much time.”

My minister was persistent. He said to her, “Sandy, I think you do have the gifts. I think God is calling you to this ministry. I ask you to pray about it.”

She thought about it. She said, “No,” a few more times. Eventually, she said, “Yes.”

On that final night of camp, there is a birthday celebration for all of the campers. Most of these children have never experienced what it is like to celebrate their birthday and to receive presents. They bring out this huge cake. There are 65 or 75 candles on it to represent each kid. All the kids gather around the cake. They blow out the candles. They sing “Happy Birthday” to one another. The looks on their faces are just amazing. They are so full of happiness and of love. 

When I think about that final night of camp, I think about what it would be like if Sandy hadn’t said, “Yes.” I don’t know for sure, but my guess is the camp would not be the same as it is today if Sandy had not said, “Yes.”

You see; we all have a calling. So often, that calling is found in the prompting and urging of others. Instead of saying, “No,” instead of making excuses, let’s say, “Here I am, Lord. Use me.”

It doesn’t even have to be for anything major. It could be for the next moment, the next day, maybe the following week. Maybe it will be some small act of kindness. Mother Teresa repeatedly said, “We can only do small acts with great love.”

There is, however, a reverse to the question, as well. “Are we pointing others in the right direction? Are we urging others down the right path?” 

Was Jesus born into greatness? The shepherds thought so. The kings thought so. The angels thought so. Did he achieve greatness? Two-thousand years later, we are still telling his story. Was he thrust into greatness? You bet he was. And you remember how it happened.  It was from a word from his Mama.

Amen.

Benediction

And now, go worth into the world transformed as God’s new wine for the world. Be blessed; go in peace. Amen.