november 15, 2009

Anna Blaedel
First UMC, Osage
November 15, 2009
Psalm 24
Mark 12:38-44

A bagpiper was asked by a funeral director to play at a graveside service for a homeless man who had no family or friends. The funeral was to be held at a cemetery in the remote countryside and this man would be the first to be laid to rest there.
The bagpiper was not familiar with the remote area, and got lost. He finally found the cemetery, but by then he was an hour late. He saw the crew eating lunch but the hearse was nowhere in sight. After apologizing to the workers for his tardiness,

the bagpiper stepped to the side of the open grave where he saw the vault lid already in place.
He assured the workers he would not hold them up for long but that he needed to play so that this homeless man, whose life had held so much heartache and struggle, could be honored. He knew it would be easier to just leave, but he knew staying was the right thing to do. The faithful thing to do. He had something to give. The workers gathered around, still eating their
lunch. The bagpiper played, full of heart and soul.

As he played, the workers began to weep. He played and played like he'd never played before, from Going Home and The Lord is My Shepherd to Flowers of the Forest and In the Garden. He closed with Amazing Grace and walked silently to his car.
As the bagpiper was opening the door and taking off his coat, he overheard one of the workers saying to another, "Sweet God in Heaven, I've been putting in septic tanks for twenty years, and I’ve never seen nothin’ like that before.

When we share our gifts…when we give our time…when we offer the outpouring from our hearts and our souls…we can never know the impact we will have. When we give what we have…when we show up and do what we can do…when we offer ourselves because it is right, even if no credit will come our way…we can never fully imagine what might become possible.
I’m going to ask a question, and I’m not asking it to try to make any of you uncomfortable. How many of you were here in worship last Sunday? Raise your hands…

Those of you who were here hopefully recognize the gospel story from Mark. The widow, who hands over everything she has, less than the wealthy people, less than the important people, two meager copper coins. But it was everything she had, and, Jesus teaches, it meant more than any of the gifts that were given without sacrifice, without genuine feeling. Those of you who were here hopefully remember that I preached on this text.

This week I’m returning to this gospel text again. To preach about that widow again, and the lessons of extravagant generosity and faithful stewardship written within the text. I’m doing this because I didn’t like my sermon last week.
A recent study found that 85% of pastors feel uncomfortable and ill-equipped to preach about finance, and stewardship, and giving. I am part of that 85%. Even from our finance committee, the folks in this church who, maybe more than others, know how important generous giving is for the life and ministry of this congregation—only two of them were willing to stand up here and speak on Sunday morning, and even that was a stretch. Talking about money, and giving, is not comfortable. I would rather not preach on Stewardship. And yet, I think spending only one Sunday a year on stewardship when it is a major theme running throughout the Bible isn’t quite enough.

Last week I told you all why giving is important. Why it is biblical. That it is what Jesus says to do, over and over and over again. I laid out numbers and percentages about tithing, and shared how all three monotheistic, Abrahamic religions (Christianity, Judaism, and Islam) all command faithful followers to give generously—zedekah, zakat, tithe. Important stuff, to be sure. But I didn’t like the sermon. For quite a number of reasons.

I don’t want you to give because I tell you to, or I convince you that giving is a central part of being a Christian, a follower of the teachings of Jesus. I want you to decide on your own to give generously. I want you to give with abandon because God gives with abandon. I want you to give because helping others and believing that in doing so we are serving God is one of the most fundamental pieces of living out our faith. I want you to give, but I don’t want you to give because I tell you to.
And. I don’t want you to give because you feel guilty about not giving. Guilt is not of God. Recognizing a wrong done or an opportunity missed is of God. Feeling convicted to do it differently is of God. Making amends and asking for forgiveness is of God. Guilt, however, is not of God. I want you to give, but I don’t want you to give because you feel guilty.

And. I don’t want to scare you into giving. I don’t want to compel you to give because we are struggling to pay our bills, because we don’t have the money to afford the new carpet this sanctuary needs, because we aren’t doing our part in the connection by paying apportionments, because Andrea as Treasurer has to choose which bills to pay and which bills to hold back until more offerings come in, because our elevator is old and our basement isn’t accessible, because youth know that Our Saviors has a pool table, and a basketball hoop, and we don’t. Fear and coercion are not of God any more than guilt. I want you to give, but I don’t want to use fear to scare or coerce you into giving.

And. I know that many of you give already. Generously.

Your gifts. Last Sunday morning, right before worship, after it was too late to change my sermon, one of you handed me a check for $1500 dollars, your pledge.

And, many of you generously give your prayers. Many of you do the spiritual practice of prayer regularly.

Your presence. Many of you show up, day after day. I’ve seen you come Friday morning to water the plants in this sanctuary and pick up meat to cook for the Roast Beef Dinner and come back Saturday to peel potatoes. I’ve seen you arrive at 6:30 Sunday morning to turn on the heat to prepare this space for worship. I’ve seen you here Wednesday night for youth group, and for choir. And because you sit in the same spots every week, I do notice when you’re here, and when you are missed.

Your service. I’ve seen you mowing the parsonage lawn, and serving on ministry committees, and baking bars for funeral lunches, and making Ingathering kits, and creating seasonal altar spreads, and teaching Sunday School, and attending UMW circle.

Your witness. I’ve heard you tell your stories of faith, I’ve heard you bear witness to God’s goodness alive and at work in your lives. I’ve heard you say “Yes” to sharing a children’s sermon, and seen you willing to take a risk and preach a sermon.
I want to encourage all of us to consider how we might give more, how we might step up our giving, how we might find new ways to give. But. And. I do know that many of you give generously already.

And. I know that some of you cannot give money right now. Some folks within this congregation are struggling to pay rent, and utility bills. Some are unable to cover the cost of prescriptions, and necessary health care. Some wonder if they can make their paycheck last to buy groceries at the end of the month. Some folks cannot give money right now. And, I do not want any of you to feel inadequate. Worthless. Less valuable. Less faithful. Because you can’t spare any money. This is not of God, either.

I know these things. And I don’t know if I conveyed them last week in my preaching about stewardship, and generous giving.
But. I do believe that living out of a spirit of gratitude and generosity is a requirement of our faith. Part of our job as servants and disciples of Christ is to give. Part of the sacred covenant we have made by becoming members of this congregation is to faithfully give. Our prayers, our presence, our gifts, our service, our witness. And, I know I, I know we, need to be reminded of that covenant, and continually renew our commitment to be faithful to it.

One of you asked me this past week how stewardship and faith development are connected. What extravagant generosity has to do with what we believe, and how we live out that belief. It’s a good question. One we need to spend more time considering as a congregation.

Faith development is about being in relationship. With God. With the Body of Christ. With our neighbors. Faith development is about cultivating and nurturing spiritual practice—praying, studying scripture, receiving the sacraments, worshipping in body and spirit, asking the questions “What Would Jesus Do?” And “How Would Jesus Respond?” and then allowing that answer to guide our actions and responses. Faith development is about finding ways to follow the greatest commandment of all—loving God with all of our hearts and minds and souls and strength, and loving our neighbors, and ourselves. Faith development is about learning to trust—God, and God’s children. To care. To share.

Faith development is about learning to place at the center of our lives what needs to be central—God; the teachings of Jesus; family; beloved community; friends who become family—and keeping at the periphery things that need to be peripheral, or let go of all together—appearance; social status; fear; judgment; stuff. Faith development is about taking risks and stepping out of our comfort zones when the Good News of God’s love calls us to do so—taking a stand; speaking out; seeking out and welcoming the least of these, the stranger, the strange.

So too, is stewardship. Stewardship is about being in relationship. With God. With the Body of Christ. Stewardship is about cultivating and nurturing spiritual practice—the practice of giving, lifted up more times in scripture as a necessary part of faithful living than anything else, even prayer. Stewardship is about asking the question “What Would Jesus Do?” And “Who Would Jesus Give?” and then allowing that answer to guide our own behavior. Stewardship is about gathering our resources and finding ways to follow the greatest commandment of all—loving God with all of our hearts and minds and souls and strength, and loving our neighbors and ourselves.

Stewardship is about learning to prioritize true priorities, and letting go of the things advertisers and marketers tell us are important, but aren’t. Stewardship is about taking risks and stepping out of our comfort zones. Trusting there to be enough. Giving at least as much to the church as we spend on cable TV, or cell phone plans, or video games, or toys, or dinners out, or new outfits, or fancier cars.

Faith development and stewardship are about remembering what God has already done for us, and responding, giving back, giving thanks.

Faith development and stewardship are about recognizing that the poor widow in Mark’s gospel who gave all she had, her two copper coins, brought the Kingdom of God nearer, because she acted out of faith, not fear, out of concern for the community’s well being, not just her own.

Faith development and stewardship are about knowing that when we do what is right, what is good and kind and compassionate and just, we might end up playing bagpipes over a septic tank rather than a grave, and that this might be a blessing, a strange and unexpected act of ministry.

Faith development and stewardship are about believing that what seems impossible just might be possible after all.

Theologian Karl Barth created the phrase “impossible possibility” in his effort to describe what God has done and can do, when things look hopeless or out of reach. I want you to give because I believe that if we all give more, this community will grow—in numbers, in faith, in love, in mission.

Faith development and stewardship are about knowing that the power of the Spirit, the power of being the Body of Christ, can make the impossible possible.

Faith development and stewardship are about remembering that small acts can have enormous, unexpected effect. That daily acts of faith—a kind word, a simple prayer, an expression of gratitude, an appreciation of beauty, showing up, a helping hand, a listening ear, a heartfelt gift—that this is how we live our faith. That committing to give regularly, whether $1, $10, $100 or $1,000, is a spiritual practice, and act of service to God. This is how we be the church. This is how we are faithful to our covenant with God, and how we live after the example of Christ.

So. I want you to give. I want you to give generously. I want each of you, every household, to turn in a pledge card next week, Consecration Sunday. I want you all to know that every one of us has something to give. I want you to give a little more than you are comfortable with giving. Of your money. Of your time. Of your presence. Of your prayers. Of your witness.

Not because I say so. Not because you feel guilty, or scared, or coerced. Not because you fear I’ll keep preaching on the same gospel story until our budget it met, and our apportionments paid, and your pledge card turned in.

But because it’s what God asks of us. Because it’s what you have already covenanted to do by being a member of this faith community. Because it’s faithful. Because it’s what the widow does, even when she has so little. Because it will help us do extraordinary things, to grow, to do ministry and outreach and faith development that seems impossible, but isn’t, not really, not with God, not with each other. Not at all.

May it be so. Amen, and amen.