I delivered my second sermon today, with the first occuring a little over a year ago. I may not be up in our elder rotation for another year, but I hope to write another message in the next few months. The process is not something that bothers me so much from a calling standpoint, but vocationally speaking it is difficult when you are not working in ministry full time.

Considering that pastors who do this week in and week out probably develop a system that enables them to be more efficient (i.e., certain commentaries they always use, how they outline, when they study, when they start writing, how much they practice delivery, etc.); I wonder what the average time spent each week is on their sermons?

Below is the text. Due to my last minute preparation, what you read is not exactly what was preached. I do not have the audio (my apologies again).

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A month ago I posted an entry about a controversial teenage night club that is run by a non-profit ministry. Well, actually, the post had less to do with the club per say and more to do with our personal reactions. However, the comments revealed that some did not see it that way: “Um, no . . . um, that’s not what I said . . . excuse me . . . that’s not my point at all . . . yes, yes, I’m sorry; that sounds like it was a horrible experience . . . yes . . . well, no, I have to confess I hesitate passing judgement on the man’s motivations as well, but I’m more hesitant to pass judgement on his eternal status . . .”

I soon realized that no amount of explaining was going to work, so I turned my attention to deconstructing and analyzing the blog conversation with a friend. In spite of my frustrations in trying to get a point across, the reaction was along the lines of what was expected. What is so fascinating is that so much of the ranting (as in distinction from another’s venting which, by his own implicit admission in his second comment, he knew was off topic) provides a sort of anatomy of the Pharisaical criticisms of Jesus: he was forever crossing the boundaries of social and religious propriety and shaking things up.

Think for a moment about the various reasons that the parable of the Good Samaritan would have been offensive: it was not merely, 1) that a dirty Samaritan helped a Jew and that, 2) those from whom we are given Scriptural warrant to expect aid (namely the Pharisee and Priest) pass their fellow Jew; but it is the swirl of rationalizations that would have immediately arisen due to what the people had been taught about safety and propriety.

When faced with a “Jew on the side of the road,” we might say:

1. that the Pharisee and Priest had important work to do. In a simple cost/benefit analysis, more people would be inconvenienced if they stopped to help the man.
2. it was a dangerous road. You never know, but he may be lying on the road as bait laid by nearby bandits. Stop to help and you yourself get mugged!
3. that surely the man ought to have known better than to walk the Jericho road alone. You make your bed—now sleep in it.

Another fascinating thing about the comments is how they expose how astoundingly refined we have made the categories “clean” and “unclean,” so that now we have the stylishly untouchables (your run-of-the-mill street people) and the toe jam untouchables (the most disgusting yet blog-safe adverb as possible), those nasty ol’ teenage hoodlums who are up to no good. Interestingly, to be stylishly untouchable—to be the sort of untouchable that somehow bears sanctifying merit for those who dare touch them—you must be visibly poor, dirty, and malnourished. Anyone who is well-dressed, well-financed, well-nourished—such as the Lost Children of Rockdale County—is, well, of the toe jam variety of untouchables.

In other words, it seems that on one hand there is a sort of untouchable among whom if we can report we have been, then we gain a sanctification merit badge. On the other hand we have untouchable untouchables that, if we are not ashamed to be numbered with them (never mind actually be seen with them and to say nothing of talking with them—almost as bad as talking with a woman at the well), we actually receive demerits! The Pharisees of the day, the self-appointed protectors of all that is holy, cluck their tongues and wonder if we will ever be clean enough to dine with them again. It seems that Jesus spoke about this sort of criticism that we would receive “from the world.”

This past week my five year old son and I were sitting down to watch A Charlie Brown Christmas when he suddenly said, “Daddy, is Santa made up?”

You can imagine that I was taken aback. I expected this day to come, but not now. After all, it took me a while before before I was wise to the deception. I must have been six or seven (or even older) when I recognized that Santa Claus and my mother had the same handwriting on the Christmas gift tags.

“Who told you,” I asked?

“Nobody!”

“Was it someone at school?”

“No-o-o-o,” he said (not fooling me at all). Right then the network queued up the Linus and Lucy song and we became engrossed with the cartoon. By the time it was over we had forgotten the discussion. I did, however, bring the topic up the next day at dinner. Eventually, we pulled it out of him that our pastor’s son had told him at preschool that Santa was made up. Apparently my son’s friend had asked his mom the same question the day before.

My wife and I explained the historical origins of Santa Claus and left it with saying that he was indeed pretend, just like many of the bedtime stories that we read or the toys he plays with. He appeared to take it all quite well. It also seemed somewhat of a relief to have gotten it out in the open. While I do not mind celebrating certain cultural aspects of the Christmas holiday, I do not want the commercialism to take center stage in our household.

I should have known that things had really not been smoothed over. Not five minutes later he hit me with the obvious follow-up question.

“Daddy, is Jesus made up?”

It was then that the importance of modeling Christ to my children became clearer than ever before. No amount of explaining will ever be sufficient to prove to them that Jesus is real. My prayer is that by God’s grace He would continue to change me and make my heart worthy of their imitation.

A couple weeks ago the Chattanoogan.com ran an article about Tim Reid and his downtown ministry to teenagers. Reid is the pastor of Mosaic, an interdenominational church that sponsors the Club Fathom Christian night club. I went there one time with a friend to see a band. I remember it being dark, loud and insanely crowded; that and never wanting to go back.

“Sometimes it gets rough,” Pastor Reid said. “I understand these are not all good, wholesome people . . . so we just try to love them through it.”

Club Fathom’s unusual approach has allowed it to reach groups that more conventional religious outreach efforts miss, Pastor Reid said.

“Traditional churches are asleep on Friday and Saturday nights,” he said. “Somebody needs to be awake . . . and so God placed us there right in the middle of Chattanooga . . . We’re right in the middle of Party Central.”

Sometimes, Club Fathom customers bring weapons or drugs or alcohol along with them when they arrive. Sometimes, after they leave, they get into fights with customers of the other nightspots in the area or run into trouble with the police. Sometimes, their troubles make headlines and the club gets blistered with bad publicity.

But sometimes, come Sunday morning, they show up to worship at Mosaic, his church.

Mosaic takes its name from the art form: broken pieces of glass that seem to have little value at first glance, but “when you bring them all together they make a beautiful picture.”

About 100 worshippers attend Mosaic’s Sunday morning and Sunday evening services, Pastor Reid said. Some of them are dressed in their Sunday best; others wear barely-there miniskirts or other inappropriate clothing.

All are welcome.

“I’m not worried about their mini-skirts, or their smoking,” he said. “My focus is to bring them to Christ. Once that happens, the rest will follow.”

Reading through the article I thought that whatever else I may think of the approach or theology associated with Mosaic and Club Fathom, Pastor Reid’s motivation is strikingly similar to that of Jesus’ own motivation; namely, to touch the untouchables, to reach the unreachables with the truth of the gospel. Not too much later in my reflections, however, the depth of my hypocrisy dawned on me—my own thoughts and instinctive responses bear a striking similarity to Jesus’ own critics. Let that last sentence really sink in so that we can all share in the discomfort together.

A while back my wife and I went to see The Davinci Code, right before it left the $2.50 last run theater. We read the book a long time ago and saw the movie mostly out of curiosity (the bad reviews almost kept us away). While I am fully aware of the book’s historical flaws, I admit that there were many intriguing aspects to the plotline. I even chuckled a bit at the local reaction to the movie release. Dan Brown’s novel about the “well kept secret” of the Holy Grail’s “true nature” really ruffled a lot of feathers here in the Bible Belt.

However, after having seen The Davinci Code I was instantly reminded of the power of the movie medium. It is one thing to read something in print and dismiss it as heresy; it is another thing entirely to watch to Ian McKellen portray it on the big screen. Only you can decide if seeing the film is right for you, but either way I think it is your duty to be discerning no matter what movies you choose to consume. If The Davinci Code interests you, then I would recommend that you do some research on the true historical facts of the film. Even if it does not, then it is quite possible that the movie you see as a threat may be an opportunity to share the gospel.

As we drove downtown for some after-movie drinks and hors d’oeuvres, Pam and I had our normal debriefing session about what we had just watched. One thing that stuck out in our minds was the closing dialogue between Robert Langdon (Tom Hanks) and Sophie Neveu (Audrey Tautou). Sophie has just found out that she is directly descended from Jesus and is conflicted about whether or not to reveal this truth to the world–something that Leigh Teabing, played by McKellen, was so obsessed over that it led to murder. Robert attempts to console Sophie as she wrestles with a decision that could destroy or maintain the faith of millions.

In this melodramatic moment–the only brightly lit scene in the movie–Langdon asks, “Why does it have to be human or divine?” In other words, what does it matter if Jesus really was God? Then he suggests, “Maybe human is divine.” This must be very soothing to the post-modern ear, but for us it only begged more questions: What does it mean to be human? Divine? There is little time to dwell on these questions before Langdon concludes with, “What really matters is what you believe.”

That all sounds well and good, and is actually not too far from the truth, but what is more important than “what you believe” is what (or who) you put your trust in. For Langdon it is simply important to believe in something, even if it is a lie, so long as that lie makes you happy. Do we Christians believe in the truth or a lie? What if Jesus was just a good person? What does it really matter anyway? What does it really matter if we are blissfully ignorant?

If we spend our whole lives in faithful obedience to God and His Word, only to find out in the end that Christianity is not true, then we Christians are to be pitied above all men. If Jesus is not really who he says he was; if the Christ did not die on the cross; if, as Paul says in 1 Corinthians 15:32, “the dead are not raised,” then we might as well be tripping billies with Dave Matthews. And so it happened that the Sunday after seeing the film we found ourselves in worship; corporately confessing our faith using The Apostles’ Creed. I was especially tuned to the words and what we were confidently proclaiming, because I knew that what you believe and trust in matters everything.

I believe in God, the Father Almighty,
the Creator of heaven and earth,
and in Jesus Christ, His only Son, our Lord:

Who was conceived of the Holy Spirit,
born of the Virgin Mary,
suffered under Pontius Pilate,
was crucified, died, and was buried.

He descended into hell.

The third day He arose again from the dead.

He ascended into heaven
and sits at the right hand of God the Father Almighty,
whence He shall come to judge the living and the dead.

I believe in the Holy Spirit, the holy catholic church,
the communion of saints,
the forgiveness of sins,
the resurrection of the body,
and life everlasting.

Amen.