Oak Chapel United Methodist Church

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Permit me, if you will this morning, to speak with my nine young friends from the Confirmation Class of 1999, and the rest of you can listen in, if you want. You have studied with Dick Glassbrook and me for ten weeks. We have come to know you, to respect you, and to love you. (And we hope you have learned something, too!) A few minutes ago, you stood before us confirmands, or catechumens, asking to join Christ's holy Church. Now you sit among us a members.

You weren't alone, this morning. Palm Sunday is a traditional day for confirmation, so thousands of others just like you, all over the world (young people of every nation, and every race, and every Christian communion) have come before their own congregations and been welcomed. Also, when you took the vows of church membership, you joined millions and millions of others, who, over the centuries, have signed up (as you just did) to be followers of Jesus -- beginning with the twelve. "The communion of the saints," we call it.

I must tell you, in truthfulness, however, that not all these commitments have borne fruit. Many who have pledged their faith to Christ and to his church (as you have this morning) have grown in Him, year by year, into a higher and deeper faith, and have become blessings to their families and friends, and (in some cases) to the whole world. Others have been "ho-hum" about the vows they took -- lukewarm in their Christianity. Some, even, have forgotten their vows altogether and gone on to do terrible and shameful things.

Being a Disciple

Being a church member doesn't make you a disciple of Jesus Christ. But Christ's disciples will always be in Christ's church. The question you must ask yourselves, my young friends, from this day forward, is, "How seriously will I take the commitment I have made?" That's all. Not very complicated.

When Jesus entered Jerusalem, on the first Palm Sunday, hundreds of well-meaning people shouted their love for him. They made a big commotion about their religion. They jumped on the bandwagon, because (at that moment) Jesus was all the rage.

Hosanna Hey Sanna Sanna Sanna Hosanna
Hey JC you're alright by me
Sanna Hosanna Hey Superstar

And there was nothing wrong with their excitement, as far as it went. We still wave palm branches and sing "Hosanna" on Palm Sunday. That crowd saw in Jesus what they wanted to see (what they needed to see, perhaps): a hero, one who would lift them out of grinding poverty, throw off the Roman yoke and rule them in mercy and kindness. One who would tell them what they wanted to hear. Christ you know I love you,
Did you see I waved?
I believe in you and God
So tell me that I'm saved.

But they saw only half of Jesus, and they went with him only a little ways, only until it pinched. They missed a lot that day. Why was Jesus riding a donkey and not a war horse, as other conquering heroes? Why was he dressed so poorly? Why did he seem so sad? The truth is this: Jesus wasn't altogether what the people wanted him to be -- never was, and still isn't. When the crowd discovered that, they fell away. We don't know. Some may have gone with him a bit further, until he had a fit in the Temple and threw the crooks out. And then quietly disappeared. Others, perhaps, until they heard he had been arrested. Even his disciples didn't last the whole week. By the time it was over, his best friend, Peter, had denied he knew ever him: "You've got the wrong man, lady!" Popularity is a fleeting thing. Easy come easy go.

Christian or Disciple?

The word "Christian" is used only three times in the New Testament. The word "disciple" is used 269 times. In the Gospels, Jesus says many things (usually nice things) to the multitudes, to the "Christians" who came to hear him preach, but who would soon return home and put religion back on the shelf. When Jesus has something really tough to say, he calls his disciples together, and puts it to them. And whenever the disciples think the way will be easy, he rebukes them.

Today we have many Christians but not many disciples, many who have taken the vows of church membership but think of discipleship as optional. You can become a Christian, they think, a member of the church, and then decide whether you want to go further. A disciple is one who accepts a discipline, my young friends. He's not "doin' what comes naturally." He doesn't take the course of the least resistance. He has taught himself, or trained himself, to do things that cut against his very nature: to trust God implicitly, to love those who do him wrong, to respond in kindness to those who would hurt him, to love the unlovely, to give away his stuff. Who among you will become disciples, and who will be satisfied simply to be Christians? That is always the question when we receive a Confirmation Class.

It is a different Jesus after Palm Sunday. In the short week that follows, Jesus moves as an actor on a stage, one with a difficult role to play. He knows the movements and he knows his lines, but he would rather not play it out. The first thing we notice about him in this week is how submissive he is, how obedient to what he perceives as God's will. "Father, if thou be willing," he prays in the garden, sweating great drops of blood, while his friends sleep, "If thou be willing, let this cup pass from before me. Nevertheless, not my will but thine…."

The ultimate discipline, to do what you believe you must, even if it means death. "Greater love hath no man than this," he said, "that he lay down his life for his friends." And he went on and did it.

His disciples over the years (not just "Christians," you understand, not just church members, but his true disciples) have sought to live under a discipline like his, to stick with their faith, through all difficulties, right on through to a cross, if that is necessary.

It doesn't have to be an outward, physical death -- for a lot dies inside us when we first come to know Jesus. A lot is "buried in baptism," as Paul said. We bury our pride, our greed, our desperate need for status and prestige. We bury all those things which give us a cheap sense of our own importance: thinking we are better because we come from a better family, or are members of a better race, or speak better English, or have a better body, or went to a better college… or went to college at all. All that dies and is buried when we meet Christ.

We bury our anger in baptism, our bitterness, our jealousy. We don't simply repress these things -- that would make us ill. We bury them. That is a discipline few of us have ever dreamed of, let alone accomplished. The world crucifies people like that, and worships them, too. You have joined Christ's church this morning. I challenge you to be true disciples.

Not just names on a role, not just lukewarm attendees, but committed followers. How close can you come to his devotion? You can do far more than you think, with God's help. Don't settle for half of Jesus. Go all the way with him. Reach up just as high as you can, and God himself will reach all the rest of the way down.