Messiah Church – ELCA

I remember hearing this often when I was growing up. My Dad, I think, was the first one to tell me this. He wanted me and my brothers and sisters to know that it was important to do the right thing – NOT – because someone was looking, but because it was simply the right thing to do. That’s what character is all about – doing what is right even when no one is watching.

Just yesterday I was thumbing through the Wisconsin State Journal and I began thinking about this whole issue of character. On the front page alone I read about the coal mining executives in West Virginia who thought they could get away with unsafe mining methods because no one was watching; and again about Vatican officials who thought they could get away with covering up scandal because no one was checking; and yet again Goldman Sachs who thought they could get away with bilking their investors of hundreds of millions because no one was regulating the derivatives market. In all of these examples and a few others as well, the issue was really character – what you are, and what you do when no one is looking.

It was all the more surprising then, that when I turned as I always do, to the sports section and I read a story about a man with amazing character. Last Sunday on the final round – or rather the first hole of sudden death – of the Herizon Heritage Golf Tournament, in South Carolina, Brian Davis of England, hit a short pitching wedge from a hazard next to the 18^th green. During his backstroke he ever-so-slightly nicked a reed before he brought the club forward. To the naked eye, it was almost invisible, but Davis had thought he had moved it and so he called the rules official over to look at the tape. Apparently rule 13-4 in The Rules of Golf states that a loose impediment (like a reed) can not be moved during the swing’s take away in a hazard. The super slo-motion replay confirmed that he had indeed just nicked the reed. In effect Brian Davis called a two stroke penalty on himself! Instead of lying three on the green and an almost certain par putt, he was lying five and his opponent Jim Furyk won by two strokes. Not only was I surprised when I read of this self-imposed penalty for something no one had noticed, I was aghast when I read that the difference between 1^st and 2^nd place was $411,000! This would have been Brian Davis’ first PGA Tour win and probably landed him loads of endorsements and yet he still took the penalty. Why? When asked about why he had called the penalty on himself, he replied I could not have lived with myself if I had not. I put the paper aside and thought about my Dad – Character is what you are when no one is looking.

In this month of May when we celebrate the Feast of Pentecost, it is right to reflect on this notion of character. Pentecost is the moment when the disciples suddenly stopped worrying about themselves, about what was in it for them, and took to the streets with the character of Jesus Christ – the man for others. Pentecost is that moment of transformation when the disciples of Jesus learned character – to live everyday as Jesus Christ even when no one was looking.

And I suppose that even at 50 years old I’m still learning this lesson of character. I still hear my Dad’s voice in my mind calling me to reach out to others, and to take care of my private life, and to be a faithful spouse and dedicated father NOT because others will think that I’m a nice person and a good pastor, but because these are the right things to do. And further, in this season of Pentecost I am challenged as we all are to be radical disciples of Jesus. We are called to put on the character of Jesus Christ – the man for others. This time of year calls me to get out of myself and stop worrying about how everything will affect me. Pentecost reminds me again that life is not about my ego or my satisfaction or my selfish concerns, rather life is about a radical living for others. Sometimes that will demand a sacrifice. Often that will come as an intrusion on my comfort. Occasionally I will have to do the hard thing and perhaps call a two stroke penalty on myself and give up a sense of victory and advantage. It all comes down to character, the character of Jesus Christ. I still have a lot to learn about character – what you are, and what you do when no one is looking.

            There is a wonderful story from a renowned professor of preaching named Fred Craddock. He often tells the story of a young minister, newly graduated from the seminary who is serving in his first church. He gets a call telling him that a church member, an elderly woman who has given nearly her entire life to the church, is in the hospital and not doing well. The woman suffers from severe breathing problems and now has pneumonia and doesn’t appear to be getting any better. She is so weak that she can not get up out of bed and the doctors are not holding out any hope for her recovery. So with this dire situation the family calls the church and asked for the young pastor to come and pray with her, anoint her and give her a final communion.

            All the way to the hospital he is thinking about what to say to this Christian woman, what words of comfort he can give her to prepare her for her eminent death. He thinks of how young he is and how completely unprepared for this moment and he mumbles a quick prayer that God will give him the strength and courage he needs. When he finally arrives at the hospital he heads up to her room for a visit. The room is darkened and the hospital wing is quiet. The nurses move in and out of the room gently so as not to disturb her final hours. The young pastor sits on a chair next to the bed and talks with her for a few minutes, just small talk really, nothing earth shattering. When he finally makes ready to leave he asks the old woman if she would like him to pray for her and she answers, Yes of course. That’s why I wanted you to come. He then politely asks, And what would you like me to pray for? The old woman looks him straight in the eye and says in a bit of a surprised voice, Why, I want you to pray that God will heal me.

            The young pastor is a bit surprised by the question and he takes her hands and starts fumbling over the words. Still, somewhere in all the blizzard of words he ends up praying for what she asked – that God would heal her. When he finally says the Amen at the end of the prayer, the woman says, You know, I think it worked! I think I’m healed! And she gets out of bed and begins to run up and down the hallway of the hospital yelling, Praise God! I’m healed! Praise God! I’m healed!

           Meanwhile, the young pastor in a stupor, stumbles to the stairwell, walks down five flights of stairs, makes his way to the parking lot and somehow manages to find his car. As he fumbles to get his keys out of his pocket, he slumps back in the seat and looks heavenward and yells, Don’t you ever do that to me again!

            Fred Craddock tells that story and then connects it to the mountaintop moments of life. Professor Craddock says that we are all like that young pastor – profound moments, mountaintop moments – yes even – resurrection moments fall into our laps and we are not prepared; we are caught off guard and are unsure what to do with them. And I share that story with you in this Easter season because I suspect that the apostles before us were also caught off guard. The apostles hiding behind locked doors in an upper room were simply unprepared for the resurrection. They said that they believed in God; they claimed to follow Jesus as Messiah and Lord; they claimed to have faith in the power of God working through this man from Galilee, but when they felt the living Christ welling up within their midst and had a sense that Jesus was with them in the room and believed that they had seen him alive – when the resurrection happened – they ran off and hid in an upper room. Don’t you ever do that to me again! This was their response. Why? Again, I think they were unprepared! They didn’t want to admit that if God could work through the cross of Jesus then God could also transform their crosses and now crosses could be embraced – and to embrace a cross is frightening. They weren’t ready to admit that if God could work through Jesus in his humanness, in his weakness, in his death, then God could work through each of them. They too were instruments of God – and to believe that you have the power of God within you is frightening. They just were not ready to admit that if God has the final word and death has been defeated then they could take risks with their lives, and lay their lives on the line, a face death with courage – and to face death is frightening. They simply were not prepared for the resurrection. And neither are we!

            Easter is our chance to face our fears. Easter is the greatest of mountaintop moments. Easter is our chance to ask ourselves the questions of faith: Do we really believe in the power of God within us and around us? Do we really trust that God can lift us from our failures and deaths? Do we believe that we come from God and go to God and in between we are always held by God? Do we believe in resurrection? This Easter look for the mountaintop moments – believe in the power and presence and promise of God – and most of all – do NOT fear!

One of the finest spiritual writers in the last fifty years was a man named Anthony de Mello. Like Jesus’ own use of parables, de Mello often turned to stories to explain the religious issues of our time. In a little book called One Minute Wisdom he shares this story: 

            One day the Master asked his disciples, What, in your opinion, is the most important of all religious questions?

            He received many answers:                  

                        Does God exist?

                        Who is God?

                        What is the path to God?

                        Is there life after death?   

            No, said the Master. The most important question is: “Who am I?” 

            Who am I? How can this be such a great religious question when for me anyway, the answers are pretty simple? Who am I? I am a husband and father. I am a pastor and preacher. I am a musician, a singer, and storyteller. I am an extrovert who enjoys people and loves to laugh. I am deeply emotional and can get angry quickly. I enjoy sports and theater, going out to dinner with Melissa. I love playing with Benjamin, skating with Joey, and dancing with Rachel. This is who I am – not a very difficult question right?

            Still, de Mello’s parable is getting at something much deeper than the hats I wear, or the jobs I do, or the hobbies that I enjoy. The most important religious question is Who am I at the deepest core of my being?  Who am I apart from my relationships and work – apart from my talents and titles? Who am I when I stand stripped of everything that I use to define myself? Who am I?

            Each year as a church we celebrate the Season of Lent to get us back to this question. The scriptures that make up the Lenten services are readings about people who discover who they are. We read each year about the people of Israel wandering in the desert, King David standing accused of murder before Nathan the prophet, Jeremiah and Isaiah calling out for repentance and justice, the Samaritan Woman at the Well, the man born blind, Lazarus, and so many others – these are the characters of our Lenten journey and all of them share a great secret. The secret is simply this – they are completely, absolutely and utterly dependent upon God! The characters of Lent understand who they are. They know that they are imperfect and broken. They realize that they have made terrible mistakes. They understand that their lives are not what they should be. They have come to realize that their one hope is God and God alone, and thus they are completely, absolutely and utterly dependent upon God.

                 So every year at this time we are asked to fast and pray and give alms (something for the poor) not because these things are good in and of themselves – NO! We do these things to remind us of who we are. When we fast from food we remember that all food is a gift from God, and that every bite we eat and breath we take is sheer grace and gift. When we pray we remember that we are not worlds onto ourselves but that we are creatures standing before the Creator. When we give to the poor we remember that all of our possessions and all of our wealth are given to us that we might give to others.

                 Everything we do in the Lenten Season reminds us of our dependence upon God and God alone. This Lent my morning prayer every day will begin with this question: Who am I? In my fasting, in my praying, and in my giving, perhaps I will realize what the great characters of scripture realized – that I am imperfect and broken, yet loved more than I could ever imagine and given a future greater than I could have ever hoped for. Who am I? I am, as you are, completely, absolutely and utterly dependent upon God!