Oak Chapel United Methodist Church

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We began our pilgrimage of faith where one must begin: in moral agony. We saw that we could not, by any stretch of the imagination, be good – not by God’s standards. For, in the Gospels, we beheld the goodness of Jesus, which in itself was off-putting. And then we heard, however reluctantly, the major themes of Jesus’ teaching: how (if we want to be good and acceptable unto God) we must obey the Ten Commandments not in letter only but also in spirit -- That was a whole new ballgame! -- so that adultery was out, as always, but now so was lust! Murder was still out, but now hate was, too. Stealing was still forbidden but now so was envy, and so forth. And, Jesus said that God was not amused when we insisted on lawyering the commandments, parsing their words: “It depends on what you mean by ‘steal.’”

We heard Jesus say that, in order to be good and acceptable unto God, we had to turn the other cheek, go the second mile, love our enemies, trust God completely, stop worrying, give all we had to the poor, lay down our very lives -- for Christ’s sake! (and all those other behaviors Jesus advocated which are so contrary to our genes), and we knew we didn’t have “a snowball’s chance….”

And, unless we were amoral (like so many in today’s world), this recognition of our hopelessness was horribly unnerving. Because if we could not be righteous, if we couldn’t get “rightwise” with God somehow, we would live unendingly sin’s thrall, and die, now and forever. Because true life, now-and-forever life, is a gift that only comes from God.

But then, in that dark moment on our pilgrimage, “when half-spent was the night,” we saw the Gospel shine. We heard some unimaginable “good news,” that God in his grace, seeing our slavery to sin and death, had gone down to the slave market and bought our freedom, had “redeemed us” as one might redeem a mortgage, and (more wonderfully yet) had taken us home and adopted us , so that now we could rightly be called “children of God” and live in his household, no longer beholden, as slaves, to every rule and regulation , but living without fear in our Father’s love. And the price he paid for our freedom was Jesus, His beloved. “All mighty God, our heavenly Father, who, of thy tender mercy, didst give thine only Son Jesus Christ, to suffer death upon the cross for our redemption…” As fanciful as it may sound today, that is the message that changed the world, by changing individual men and women, and it continues to do so, and will continue until “every knee shall bend and every head shall bow” at the name of Jesus.

The question for us this morning, and next Sunday, is, “Now what?” We’ve heard the good news, accepted it for ourselves. Our hearts are full of thanksgiving. We’re on our way. “On my journey now, Mt. Zion, on my journey now. Oh, I wouldn’t take nothin’, Mt. Zion, for my journey now.” That’s all well and good. That’s wonderful. But, to put a sharp point on it, how are we expected to live -- in between, between the first coming of Christ and the last? Next week I’ll talk about how we should live in relation to the world outside the church. But today I’d like to focus on the question how we should live with each other. Because, if we don’t get that right, our pilgrimage comes to a screeching halt.

“….during supper Jesus…got up from the table…tied a towel around himself…poured water into a basin and began to wash the disciples’ feet and to wipe them with the towel.” John tells us clearly, at the beginning of this story, that Jesus knew“ his hour had come to depart from this world.” He was a dead man walking. He had to do something they would remember, something they would remember when differences and competitions arose among them, when the stress of leadership and the threat of persecution befogged their minds. When they found themselves divided, Jew and Greek, master and slave, man and woman. And so he washed their feet! He said, “So if I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another’s feet.” Speaking now to the Church (for the twelve were all there was of the Church at that moment), he said, “A new commandment I give you: that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples….” “They will know we are Christians by our love.”

Sounds kind of soupy, doesn’t it? But it’s not, if you remember that love, for Jesus, is not a feeling. Love is an action verb. We don’t taste love (as one might at a movie). We do love. And, first and foremost, we do it to each other.
Bless be the tie that binds our hearts in Christian love;
The fellowship of kindred minds is like to that above.
We share each other’s woes, our mutual burdens bear;
And often for each other flows the sympathizing tear.

I can think of no better example than the way this church supported me and our family when Mary was so suddenly, and so seriously ill, three years ago. It was love in action, and I knew it, and I wasn’t helping, or leading – I was receiving. No words will ever capture my overwhelming gratitude. But it’s not just the preacher. We do it for all our members and friends. We pray for our people’s needs, their families, their worries. We visit them when they’re ill, or lonely, or bereft. And then we ask, “What else can we do?” We wash each other’s feet. Keep it up. Expand upon that. Organize it so that no one is inadvertently overlooked. A church’s first mission is to its own people. There are always feet that need washing. (Ministers should remember that those fancy stoles they wear around their necks began as towels.)

And we receive with love all God’s people. That’s a Jesus thing to do. “In Christ there is no East or West, in him no North or South.” Oak Chapel has rich and poor, black and white, young and old, and persons from ten different nations among our members. We don’t talk a lot about our differences. We talk about Jesus.

Mary and I and the girls walked into New York’s Fifth Avenue Presbyterian Church, a very fancy place, and we did look good! Mary and the girls were dressed up (The girls were even behaving!). I remember that I was wearing a new, expensive blue suit, with a vest (no less), and a power tie – yellow was the color that year. And we sat down where people could see us, a picture of success. And then, down the aisle, pushing a two-wheeled shopping cart, came a bag lady. She sat down next to me and began spreading her filthy, crumpled bags on the pew. Either she or those bags smelled very bad. She was ruining our image. And I thought how we might change seats without it being too obvious. How awful of me! And then, thank God, I remembered where I was. In the Church of Jesus Christ, if no place else in the world, she and I were equals. We were both sinners saved by the grace of God. We had many differences. But she was God’s precious child, as I hoped I was. I still wonder, if, when I die, I might find her sitting at the right hand of Jesus. I hope I was at least o.k. to her. It is the sign of a truly great church, whether in New York City or in Layhill, Maryland: that all, “of every age and station,” feel welcome. Keep that up. Expand on it. Never be “too good” for anyone. Much of the criticism Jesus received was for hanging out with the wrong people. Let’s see to it that we receive the same criticism.

Grow in Christ. Feed his sheep. Love each other, as Christ has loved you. And Oak Chapel will be here for a thousand years.