Sunday, March 11, 2012

1 Corinthians 12:12-31

03/11/12 1 Corinthians 12:12-31 Grace UMC

What exactly is the church? For some it may be nothing more than a place to go when it is time to get married or buried. Others might see it, additionally, as a place to get their children baptized. I suppose that it is all of those things and, to the degree to which those things get people to think about the grace and mercy of God and the abundant life as promised to us by Jesus, it is not a fundamentally wrong way to look at the church, though it is far from being adequate. Seeing the church as primarily a dealer of spiritual goods and services for people to come and consume is really not very helpful, though it is incredibly common in our world today. It is seen as a place where we can go and receive things that will help us to live our lives. The ministries of the church are understood to be a kind of spiritual marketplace, where we can pick and choose what we think will be relevant to us and, if nothing seems overwhelmingly appealing, we just walk on by and go about our business.

Now, there is probably at least one person here this morning who, when I asked, "What is the church" began to think these words: I am the church! You are the church! We are the church together! All who follow Jesus, all around the world! Yes, we're the church together! The church is not a building, the church is not a steeple, the church is not a resting place, the church is a people. Those words come, of course, from a hymn that, for better or for worse, we are not singing this morning. The point that it makes so clearly is that, at the end of the day, the church is not about the building or the pews, or the pulpit, or even the singing and sermon, but the people. But even according to that hymn, it isn't just any old group of people, is it? No, it is "All who follow Jesus all around the world." Though neither of the Wesley brothers wrote that hymn, it certainly agrees with everything that John Wesley wrote about the nature of the church.

One of the most significant passages in the entire Bible about what the church really is can be found in 1 Corinthians, chapter twelve. Paul begins with this observation. "For just as the body is one and has many members, and all the members of the body, though many, are one body, so it is with Christ. For in the one Spirit we were all baptized into one body - Jews or Greeks, slaves or free - and we were all made to drink of one Spirit." I think that Paul's use of this idea of Christians being bound together as the Body of Christ is incredibly interesting. You have a body and you have the members that make up that body. In spite of the fact that you can't have a body without the members, you really can't say that a body is nothing more than two arms, two legs, a torso and a head. The parts of the body aren't parts of a body unless they are related to one another, joined together in some coherent way. What Paul is saying is that we are not just isolated Christians, we are bound together as the body of Christ, that we might only be part of that body, but we are what we are because we are related to everyone else who is also a Christian. I have said before and I will say again that, as important as it is to get your own personal relationship with God through Jesus Christ settled, there is no such thing as an individual Christian, a Christian who is not bound to other Christians. There are only Christians-in-community. Whatever else a person may be who has isolated themselves from the community of others in the hope of doing things their own way, they are not a Christian, according to the Bible.

So, we are bound together, but what does that really mean? Thankfully, Paul gives us some very helpful guidelines. "Indeed, the body does not consist of one member but of many. if the foot would say, 'Because I am not a hand, I do not belong to the body,' that would not make it any less a part of the body. And if the ear would say, 'Because I am not an eye, I do not belong to the body,' that would not make it any less a part of the body. If the whole body were an eye, where would the hearing be? If the whole body were hearing, where would the sense of smell be? But as it is, God arranged the members in the body, each one of them, as he chose. If all were a single member, where would the body be?"

This tells us a few things. First, it tells us that God has not allowed us to exempt ourselves from the body of Christ. It does not matter who you are, what your gifts are, or what you do in the church, you are fully a part of the Body of Christ. In fact, you are much more dear to the proper functioning of the church than you realize. You should never say, "Well, I only do this. It really isn't that much." Every time you say that, you are saying that, because you are not a hand or an eye, that is, because you aren't doing one of the things that you think is crucial to the life of the church, your ministry does not matter, that you are infinitely replaceable, that anyone could do what you do. Nothing could be further from the truth. The longer I live as a human being and the longer I serve as a pastor, the more I see that it is seldom when two different people share the same gifts, graces and passions. The simple fact of the matter is that, whether you realize it or not, you have gifts that the church, both locally and at large, need. And if you allow yourself to fall into the trap of assuming that, because you don't do certain things, because you aren't a preacher, or because you aren't leading a particular ministry, you aren't doing vitally important work, you have missed Paul's point. Not one of us has the permission of God to excuse ourselves from our calling to participate, in whatever way, in the life of the church.

It also tells us that if a church ever becomes made up of the same kinds of people, people who all value the exact same things, it is something very much other than what the church was meant to be. The church is meant to be made up of all kinds of people, people who have different backgrounds, who have different gifts, who can do things that other people cannot do, or perhaps do not want to do. If everyone was a pastor, who would be in the congregations? If everyone led some ministry or group, who would be participating in them? The church was never meant to be a collection of people who all do the same things. The beauty is that we are called to be in this together.

Paul continues. "As it is, there are many members, yet one body. The eye cannot say to the hand, 'I have no need of you,' nor again the head to the feet, 'I have no need of you.'" If the first part of Paul's argument teaches us that we are not allowed to exempt ourselves from being part of the body of Christ, this part teaches us with equal force that we are not allowed to exempt anyone else from being part of the body of Christ. Unfortunately, this is something that has been all too common in churches throughout the years. It is no secret that there are many different Christian denominations in the world today. Some denominations are closer to being like each other than others are, but it seems as though every group of Christians has at least one other group of Christians that they do not believe are really Christians. It takes several different forms, depending on who we are dealing with, but it is altogether too common.

Our tendency to exempt others from the body of Christ is not less unfortunate within the context of a local church. It is entirely too common that people who are excited about one particular issue or ministry cannot see the forest for the trees and tend to behave as if the ministry that they are doing is the only ministry worth doing or the one that the church should really be focusing on. I cannot tell you how many people I have met over the years who have a great passion for ministry that is helpful and healthy for the church but aren't doing what they feel called by God to do because someone, at some time, told them that they couldn't or that it wasn't important, or that they should be involved in some other, real, ministry. What is this but the eye or the head saying to the hand or the feet, "I have no need of you," or perhaps the even stronger, "The church has no need of you?"

According to Paul, this must not be so. "On the contrary, the members of the body that seem to be weaker are indispensable, and those members of the body that we think less honorable we clothe with greater honor, and our less respectable members are treated with greater respect; whereas our more respectable members do not need this. But God has so arranged the body, giving the greater honor to the inferior member, that there may be no dissension within the body, but the members may have the same care for one another. if one member suffers, all suffer together with it; if one member is honored, all rejoice together with it." Paul is making rather a bold implication here. He points out something that is still as true for us as it ever was during his time. We go out of our way working on ways to take the parts of our body that we are less comfortable with and make them more presentable. We try to wear clothes that fit us well, that highlight our best features and downplay our worse ones. If we cannot avoid people seeing our less attractive parts, we do what we can to make them less embarrassing. This desire that we have to highlight our strengths and downplay our weaknesses as far as our bodies are concerned is the basis of the entire makeup and clothing industries, among others.

What Paul is suggesting is that maybe it is not altogether different in the church. The parts are interrelated in a way that is deeper than we might expect. There are, of course, certain parts of the church that we tend to think of as being "more important" than others and those that we think of as "less important" but it would be misleading to think this way. For example, speaking as a pastor, I cannot help but notice that the most faithful people I have ever met in my life have not been pastors but laypeople; the most capable workers and most dedicated people I have ever seen in the church have often been the people that everyone else may have overlooked. Does the church need dedicated leaders in order to be what it has been called to be? Of course, but this does not mean that such leaders are necessarily the most brilliant, most organized, most faithful people around; it simply means that they have been called to do what they do. I sometimes wonder if God called me to be a pastor because I have, in all reality, a fairly narrow skill set and that, because there are relatively few things that the church needs that I can do, I might be able to encourage others to use their skills for the greater health of the whole body.

The point is that, if we take what Paul has to say seriously, we find that our whole sense of "better" and "worse" in ministry is turned upside down. His point is that we are integrated together in the body of Christ through the power of the Holy Spirit and that this unity is so profound that to cut anyone off in any way is parallel to the amputation of the human body. It is true that the body might be able to live without a particular part, but it isn't how the body was designed to be and if we get too excited about cutting off body parts, there isn't much of a body left.

Let us look at one more part, at the end of Paul's words for us this morning. "Are all apostles? Are all prophets? Are all teachers? Do all work miracles? Do all possess gifts of healing? Do all speak in tongues? Do all interpret?" Paul asks this series of rhetorical questions, knowing that the answer that we have to give to each one is, "No." Not everyone does any particular ministry, but the important thing is not that everyone does a particular thing but that someone does it and that we rejoice as a body that it is being done, even if it isn't us who are doing it. Not everyone is an apostle, but there are some who are called to be apostles. Not everyone is a prophet, but God does indeed call people to the prophetic ministry. Not everyone is a teacher, but there is still a great need for capable teachers. If everyone did something, it would destroy the church. We need everyone to work together, doing what they are passionate about, making what they care about a reality. If we all simply listen to what God is saying to us and step forward in faith, God will take care of our needs.

Let me put it this way. What good is it for a church to have wonderful outreach into the community if they do not have any way to nurture the people once they become active? What good is it for a church to have brilliant preaching if there are no structures in place to provide follow-up for those who are struggling with how to respond? What good is it if a ministry is excellent at convicting people of their sins and making them aware of their need for God if they have no way of joining them with others to help them grow and be assured of their salvation? What good is it for a church to have a strong ministry to the poor in their community if they are not prepared to welcome them into their midst in the worship service?

We need people who are comfortable bringing the love of Christ outside of these walls, but we also need people who are comfortable with making people feel welcome in a church they have visited for the first time, which can be an incredibly nervous experience. We need people who are gifted and passionate about ministry to and with elderly people, people who are excited about ministry to and with young people and with every age in between. What we need more than anything else are people who are listening to the prodding of the Holy Spirit, and the Spirit is indeed prodding you, and taking what the Spirit says and turning it into a reality. Your pastors have gifts and graces, just like you do, but we don't have every gift and every grace. There are some things we get more excited about than other things and if a Church has to wait until the pastors can get through all the pressing concerns that face them on a daily basis before we can make ministries a reality, there is much ministry that we could and should be about that will simply be left undone.

So, if you have given of your time, talents, and energy for many years now, thank you for your service; keep it up, we need you. If you have never acted on what God has called you to do, do it now, even if it is for the first time. If you have criticized the ministry of others because it doesn't fit in with what you think are the most important things for the church to focus on, I ask that you would stop doing so. If there are aspects of the ministry of this church that you don't think are as important or as respectable as others, consider treating them with even more honor, as Paul suggests. And finally, if you used to be active in ministry in whatever form but you have been told that your ministry wasn't important or were discouraged from doing what God called you to do, I beg you to forgive whoever discouraged you and give it another try. God loves us and the world too much to let little hurdles get in the way of being joined together in passionate ministry in the world. Remember, everyone you meet is someone for whom Christ has died. Let us join together, in whatever way we can, and be the church, for as different as we may each be from each other, we are all part of that same body of Christ. Let us pray.

AMEN

Friday, March 2, 2012

Experience and Self-Deception

Experience and Self-Deception

A week ago, I was involved in an accident while driving a church van. The roads were incredibly icy and we ended up fishtailing off the road and tipping over on the passenger side. It was an amazingly surreal experience, something unlike anything I have ever experienced before (even though I had previously been involved in a one-car accident, it was of a profoundly different kind). It was one of those moments where the accident seemed to be over in a moment and yet seemed, simultaneously, to be in slow motion.

There is a fair amount of physical evidence that this accident actually happened. In addition to my own experience there were two other people in the van when we went off the road (other people's children. Thankfully, nobody was hurt). There is an accident report that was filled out by the state trooper, the bill from the tow truck who tipped the van right-side up again as well as physical damage to the van (of course, as the van is going to be repaired, this last evidence will soon be done away with).

The thing I have noticed in the week following the accident is that my memory of it is not like much of my memories of ordinary experiences. In the main, the things I experience are similar to other experiences I have had. This one, however, is markedly outside the realm of that ordinary experience. I find that, when I recall the accident, it does not feel altogether different than when I recall a particularly vivid dream. The questions that I have been asking myself in the past few days are these: "What if there were no physical evidence at hand to support my thinking that I was in an accident recently? Would that make that experience any less real?" Also, "In the absence of such evidence, would it be possible to convince myself that the accident had never happened?"

Granted, these are perhaps slightly artificial questions given the inherently physical nature of such an experience. When a full-sized van lands on its side, you lose the mirror on that side as well as suffer damage to the body of the van. But we can surely imagine a situation where the police were not notified and we can surely imagine a situation where, through some other means, the van was righted without such documentation as I received. If someone were to quickly repair the damage on the van, what is left? Just the personal testimony of three, admittedly shook-up passengers. How would such people justify their experience to one who didn't see it? It would be very easy for a hearer to doubt that the accident happened at all and that we simply made up the story, for attention perhaps.

And yet, that would not make our experience any less real. It still happened. Even if, in the absence of the physical evidence that I do, in fact, have, I were to begin to doubt the reality of that experience, that doubt would not undo it. Even if nobody ever believed me, the experience would stand, with or without "sufficient evidence."

When the time comes and the van is repaired and I manage to misplace my copies of the police report and tow truck bill, would it be possible for me to convince myself that the accident didn't happen? I could be told by others who heard the story that it happened, I could be reminded by the other passengers that it happened, but if my own experience is the yardstick of what I will or will not accept, is it not possible that I could refuse to be convinced, even by strong arguments and testimonies from outside of myself? After all, there is much in the experience that is easy to doubt. It was an incredibly bizarre day; many odd things that had never happened to me before happened. Again, the memory of the actual crash is not altogether unlike my memories of vivid dreams. How am I to know for sure that I did not make this "experience" up as well?

Granted, this is not the situation and, even if I were to feel that my memory is betraying me, I imagine that I will choose to believe the testimony of others and the physical pieces of paper that bear witness to the accident. But is not my appropriation of that evidence truly a choice, a decision I have to make? It is clear that evidence can be manufactured and I could convince myself that it has been so in this instance, or I could choose to believe that nobody would make up something as mundane as this (after all, people have accidents every day and nobody died or was injured). And yet, that does not mean that I was not deceived. At the end of the day, I have to put my trust in the belief that the external evidence bolsters my memory sufficiently to conclude that it was not a dream. It can never rise above radical skepticism, but it is a decision I make and live in light of.

I cannot help see the parallel of this line of thought with questions I have had regarding people who had profound religious experiences and then ultimately renounce any religious faith. It seems possible that such a person may really have had such a profound experience but have convinced themselves that they were mistaken, or that they manufactured the experience because of pressure from the rest of the community, or some such thing. It must be granted that this kind of thing does happen, from time to time.

The question is, on what basis can we decide for sure whether the experience (which, in spite of witnesses and others having similar experiences, is radically subjective in the actual event of the experience) was real or merely a deception, whether from ourselves or others? The fact of the matter is that there is no surefire way to decide. We are always having to do tacit statistical analysis to decide whether our experience was likely or not (though "likely" must never be actually equated with "real"). The unlikely happens, the real is often baffling. Though we must admit that most memories we have of experiences that are radically outside our everyday experience are false, it does not follow that all such experiences are false. The trick, for which there is no infallible method, is to discern the truth, from case to case.