Broadway Christian Church · Columbia, Missouri

The Worship of God · June 20, 2010

Litany of Praise

From Psalm 42

As a deer longs for flowing streams, so our souls long for you, O God.

            Our souls thirst for God, for the living God.

Why are you cast down, O my soul, and why are you disquieted within?

            Hope in God and we shall again praise!

Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Ghost;

As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be,

World without end. Amen. Amen.

Pastoral Prayer

Jacob Thorne

Everlasting God, you are the source of our common life. This morning, we praise you for all that you are and for all that you have given us. We celebrate with one another the joy of community, the fruits of the Spirit, the tenderness of your love, and the beauty of your creation. We give thanks that you love us as a parent loves a child. This morning, we say a special prayer for all fathers. 

You, O God, bring us together and send us apart. You are faithful to us when we seek your presence. You are faithful to us when we don’t know which way to turn in our wanderings. You are faithful to us when we forget to turn our attention to you. You always, always shower us with steadfast love. 

In the good times and in the hard times, remind us that all time is your time. Help us remember that even if we cannot see the road ahead, we can trust in your promise that we will always, always travel together. Our comfort and our faith are found in you. Empower us for the future and send us forth to proclaim your Word.

Hear us, now, as we say together the prayer that your Son taught us…

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 glory, forever. Amen.

New Testament Lesson

Luke 8:26-39

Then they arrived at the country of the Gerasenes, which is opposite Galilee. As he stepped out on land, a man of the city who had demons met him. For a long time he had worn no clothes, and he did not live in a house but in the tombs. When he saw Jesus, he fell down before him and shouted at the top of his voice, “What have you to do with me, Jesus, Son of the Most High God? I beg you, do not torment me” – for Jesus had commanded the unclean spirit to come out of the man. (For many times it had seized him; he was kept under guard and bound with chains and shackles, but he would break the bonds and be driven by the demon into the wilds.) Jesus then asked him, “What is your name?” He said, “Legion”; for many demons had entered him. They begged him not to order them to go back into the abyss.

Now there on the hillside a large herd of swine was feeding; and the demons begged Jesus to let them enter these. So he gave them permission. Then the demons came out of the man and entered the swine, and the herd rushed down the steep bank into the lake and was drowned.

When the swineherds saw what had happened, they ran off and told it in the city and in the country. Then people came out to see what had happened, and when they came to Jesus, they found the man from whom the demons had gone sitting at the feet of Jesus, clothed and in his right mind. And they were afraid. Those who had seen it told them how the one who had been possessed by demons had been healed. Then all the people of the surrounding country of the Gerasenes asked Jesus to leave them; for they were seized with great fear. So he got into the boat and returned. The man from whom the demons had gone begged that he might be with him; but Jesus sent him away, saying, “Return to your home, and declare how much God has done for you.” So he went away, proclaiming throughout the city how much Jesus had done for him.

Message

Tell Your Story

Jacob Thorne

A few years ago, I was in southern India, along the coast in Chennai, also referred to as Madras. All of a sudden, I started to feel really sick. The temperature was somewhere well above 110 degrees. All day long, I had been riding around in the back of this tiny, tiny rickshaw through the streets of India. We were bouncing along, bumping along, and there is just such an amazing sight. You can look next to you, and there will be a guy driving a scooter. Behind him would be his wife holding on to a computer monitor, and behind her would be three kids hanging on to the back. It was like this everywhere. Everywhere you looked, you could see similar situations.

My friend Phany said to me, “We need to make one more stop.”

I said, “Oh, no! I’m tired. I just want to go back home and rest.”

Nevertheless, he insisted one more stop. It was a temple. But it wasn’t just any temple; it was a mixture of both Hindu and Christianity. It was on the outskirts of the city. So, as we rickshawed to this temple, I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. All around me, people were laughing, and shouting, and screaming, and eating, and praying, and worshipping. It was an incredible scene. It was like something out of the Old Testament. As we walked into the gates of the temple, we bent down and took off our sandals, as a sign of respect. It was a sign that we were walking on holy ground. This ground we were walking on was so hot, however, and I was really drawing attention to myself, because I was tiptoeing along the path. It was so hot. I told Phany it was because I have a tender “soul.” (He didn’t get it. Well, nobody is getting it. I’ll stop doing that one.)

Along this path, all these beggars were holding out bowls for alms. Some people were missing an arm. Some were missing a leg. Some had disfigured faces. I couldn’t help but stare. I turned to Phany, and I asked him, “Why are they here?”

Phany said to me, “It is because they have come here to be healed and to ask for mercy.”

All of a sudden, as we were walking down this path, this lady comes up next to me. She is screaming. She runs by screaming all the way up to the top of the temple. There is a crowd following along behind her. Again, I turned to Phany and I asked what was going on. Phany said, “She is here because the demons are inside of her. She wants the priest to heal her.”

As she made her way up the steps, the priest came down the steps, and he reached out his hand and touched her on the head. He said a prayer, and instantly she stopped screaming. She was healed. The priest cleansed her of the evil spirits that were destroying her.

Now, it would be unusual for a similar situation like that to take place at Broadway Christian Church. Rarely at church, do we have people screaming out loud asking to be healed of the demons inside of them. To be honest, I am, and maybe you are as well, skeptical of public, religious-healing exhibitions. When I hear the word “healing,” used in the same context as the word “religion,” I instantly think of emotional manipulation and ministers on television promising to heal you, especially if you send money.

But… But, after my experiences in India, I am convinced that some people do need a healer – a priest, a minister, a religious figure – somebody to rid them of the demons that are tormenting their souls. So, this morning, as we hear the story of Jesus healing the Gerasene demoniac, the man whose life was tortured by demons that lived deep within the core of who he was, I am really not that surprised. To me, this story makes perfect sense. I can easily picture this man who lived in the graveyard. For years, he had been tortured by these demons that he could not explain. He was the one, when you went to visit the graves, who was bound up and shackled with chains. He would lurch at you. He would tear off his clothes. He scared the children and the adults. He was known for miles around as the crazy man to avoid at the cemetery. No problem; right?

Jesus goes to the demoniac, and he asks him for his name. The man says, “My name is Legion, for we are many.” 

Then the demons beg Jesus not to send them back to the great abyss, but rather to let them enter the herd of swine that are on a nearby hillside. Jesus grants this permission. He commands the spirits to leave. They fly into this herd of swine. The swine start taking off running. They make it all the way to the cliff. They stop, and then they plunge to their death.

It is quite a story. Right? But the real twist of the story – the real surprise of the story – that makes me think twice happens at the very end. This man, who has been healed, asks Jesus, “Can I go with you, and follow you, and be a part of your ministry?”

Jesus tells the demoniac, the man who was possessed by demons, “No.  No, you cannot follow me. Instead return to your home and declare how much God has done for you.”

This seems really strange to me, because Jesus tells the demoniac, the one who is crazy, who we try to distance ourselves from, to go and share his story.  Isn’t that the person we would try to avoid?

In the very same chapter, just one story later, there is a man named Jairus. Jairus is a rabbinical priest. He is a leader of the temple. He comes to Jesus and falls down at the feet of Jesus, and he begs Jesus to come to his house where his 12-year-old daughter is dying. By the time Jesus makes it to the house, there is a crowd gathered around outside. They see Jesus walking up. They turn to him and say, “Jesus, there is no point of going inside. She is already dead.”

Jesus says to the crowd, “Do not fear for she is just sleeping.”

This whole story is strange. Why would you say to a crowd, “Don’t fear; she is sleeping?” They have just witnessed her death. The crowd responds even more strangely. They laugh at Jesus. They ridicule him. But Jesus goes into the house. He takes the hand of the girl, and he says to her, “Rise up.” Her spirit returned to her, and she gets up at once. All of a sudden, the girl, who was once dead, is now alive. But listen to what is next. Jesus says to her parents, “Tell no one what has happened.”

Why is this? Why does the crazy man get to tell his story and not the priest? Both Jairus and the crazy man are public figures. Both have a story to tell. Both have a reputation. So, why does only one get to tell the story? Is there a secret?

Some scholars believe that there was a messianic secret that the story of Christ was to be a secret until he died. But that doesn’t make very much sense, because one person gets to tell the story. Maybe it is a question of authority. Maybe it is a question of a pure telling instead of an authoritative telling.

When I was in seminary, I believed foolishly that ministers went to seminary in order that they could learn the stories of the Bible. I thought you had to be academically trained to tell the stories of the Bible. But the longer I am in ministry, I am convinced that those who get to tell the story are the everyday people like you and like me. Jairus didn’t get to tell the story, because he was a rabbinical priest who had been telling the story for years. He was an authoritative figure.

Jesus never discriminated who he did and did not heal, but he did direct very specifically who could and could not tell the story of faith. So, if you have ever been saved by grace, if you have ever experienced God’s love, if you have ever been healed, if you have ever been forgiven by God or have been shown mercy, then you are not only encouraged to tell your story, but you are required to tell your story. It is almost like a commandment. This group is who gets to tell the story of God’s people.

We all have stories to tell. But sometimes for sure, there is a hesitancy to share our faith with others. We don’t want to come across as proselytizing, or being overtly evangelistic. We don’t want to seem too churchy. But, what do we do? For many of us, I bet we would be more comfortable telling our neighbors who to vote for or what political choices to make rather than sharing with them stories about our faith. Am I right?

When it comes to talking about faith, it is almost as if we shrink. Our shoulders drop. We slouch down like we are embarrassed or we are uncomfortable about who we are. We forget to stand tall. Standing tall is so important. Did you ever say that to your children? “Stand tall. Don’t forget to stand tall.”

When I think of standing tall, I am reminded (it’s a weird connection, but it will all make sense) that I am not much of a basketball player. I never played competitive basketball beyond the sixth grade. But in college, my friends in the dorm convinced me I should play on this intramural team. We played all these games. Somehow, this may have been a reflection of the quality of talent; we made it all the way to the very end of this basketball tournament. 

It was the final game. It was the final few minutes. I had done my best the entire game not to touch the basketball. There were three seconds left, however. We were three points behind. I accidently, for sure, was passed the ball. (This is why I didn’t play basketball.) I turned one way, but the basket goal was over in the other direction. But I could see the clock really well. It said, “two seconds left, and one second left,” so I decided, “What the heck,” so I threw it over my head, and it went right in the basket. Well… that was a two point shot. We had been three points behind. Game over. 

But then, I heard this whistle. I turned around and the referee is going, “One shot. One shot.” Somebody fouled me. 

I said, “No, he didn’t touch me! He didn’t touch me!” 

The referee said, “No, you have one shot. You can tie this game.” 

I didn’t want to be able to tie the game. I stepped up to the line. I took the basketball. I looked at the goal. I didn’t know what to do, so I just let it go. It didn’t even come close. Game over. I thought. 

Honestly, the referee blew the whistle again. He said, “Somebody stepped over the line. You get one more chance.”

Everyone is saying, “Oh, we can tie the game! All you have to do is make the goal. It is easy.”

We had just been to a game at M.U. the night before. So, I thought, “What do the basketball players do before they shoot the basket?” So, I tried to imitate them. I had the basketball. This time, I bent my knees a few times. I dribbled. Then I held it. Then I paused. It seemed like the right thing to do. Then I let go, and the basketball made this perfect arc, but before it reached the net, it just fizzled out. You could hear the crowd, before it even hit the ground, “Air ball!”

It was so terrible. Game over. Game lost. My friend came next to me and put his arm around me. He said, “It’s OK. It’s just a game. Remember to stand tall.”

Well, we all need to be reminded to stand tall. I remember reading about the basketball play Eric Montross. Does anyone remember him? He played for North Carolina in college. One of the three years he played there, they won the national championship. He later went on to have a decent career in the NBA. But if you ever watched Eric play, all the way through high school, college, and the NBA, whenever he was running up and down the court, he would always look to the side. It just seemed so strange. But then one day, the camera panned, and you could see why. His father was at all of his games, and his father would always be holding up seven fingers. As Eric ran up and down the court, he would look to his dad. 

One day, his dad was asked why, and here is the answer: “To remind Eric to play like the seven-footer that he really is.”

So, this morning, I can’t help but wonder what would happen if we all stood tall and told the stories of Jesus like the hypothetical seven-footers that we really are. What if we somehow found the courage and the strength to tell the stories of Jesus exactly as they happened in our lives? To stand tall and to play like a seven-footer means that we have to be willing to have new faith experiences and a new outlook in life.

What, perhaps, is the most interesting about the story of the man who was healed from his demons, is that we never hear what happens to him. There is no follow-up to the story. We are left to imagine what is taking place. My guess is this: at the very end of the story, Luke leaves us with one parting line. Referring to this man, he writes, “So he went away proclaiming throughout the city how much Jesus had done for him.”

I know, and you know as well, how hard it must have been for that man to walk through the city streets. When you share your story with people, who in the past have mocked you, have ridiculed you, maybe even tormented you, it is not easy to do. But an exorcism, a cleansing, a resurrection cannot be ignored.

Go back to that temple in India. When we were leaving and almost back to the rickshaw, I saw that same lady, who had earlier been healed. There was still a crowd around her. But this time, she was calm. She was speaking. You could tell she was telling a story. I turned to Phany, and he said, “She is telling the story of how she has been healed and saved by God.”

Not all of us get the opportunity to tell our stories. But sometimes, we get to tell our stories to a reporter. Did anybody read the article that was in last Sunday’s paper? It is an article on Dave and Jennie McKee. Dave and Jennie joined our church last Sunday. It talks about art, and love, and faith. Then when you open the paper, on the inside it says, “Whom shall I send?” Dave and Jennie have a story to tell. In their artwork, they use the lyrics of the song, “Whom Shall I Send?” As they told their story, and as I read it, I couldn’t help but think that this is a story about God. It is a story about Dave and Jennie. It is a story about us. Last Sunday morning, as they were walking down the aisle, at 11 o’clock, the song that was playing was “Whom Shall I Send?” It was a story of God’s speaking to them. It is a story of God speaking to us.

As we go forth today, may we all have the strength, and the courage, and the faith, and the commitment to share our story with one another.

Through Christ, we all say together…  “Amen.”

Benediction

As you go forth today, may the hand of God lead you. May you know God’s love, and may you share the stories of God’s grace. Amen.