It was some pretty "heady" stuff. Upon hearing of the church’s overwhelming pastoral credentials, the astonished candidate asked, "How in the world did you find that many potentially great leaders in this little church?"

"Find them," the committee member said. "We didn’t find them. We made them!"

We clergy types have a tendency to think that the world revolves around us. We sometimes believe that great churches are the product of tremendous clergy leadership. We sometimes think that the men and women who go far in the church got where they are because they were incredibly talented. Yet when we think that way – when we come to believe that we are the ones who are great – we deny an essential element of the Christian faith. We deny the fact that it’s God who has orchestrated everything.

For example, I am absolutely astounded at the mission and vitality of the First Presbyterian Church of Meadville. An inexperienced minister – looking in from the outside – might be inclined to say that this church’s relative success is due to the unbelievably talented ministers who have served here over the years. And as you well know, you’ve had some good ones.

But a seasoned veteran of the church might see a little deeper. A minister is nothing without a faithful, loving, supportive congregation…a people who are committed to seeing God’s plan for the future and to doing something about it…a people who are able to sense the needs around them and are willing to heed the call of their convictions. This church may have had some very talented ministers, but at the heart of this church’s suc-cess is the faith of the congregation. That, too, is a gift from God, and it’s one for which we should all be eternally grateful.

Only now, we find ourselves in the midst of incredible CHANGE. Your beloved pastor of 16 years has moved on. I truly admire what that poor man and his family endured – and how he somehow persevered – and how you must have supported him every step of the way. Then for a year you had a fisherman named Tom Sebben. I can honestly say, there’s only one Tom Sebben. He was as good as they come.

And now you’ve got a guy standing before you about whom you know virtually nothing, save for what you might have read in a glossy brochure. Is he capable of administrating a corporate church? Is he competent enough to deal with the crises that will inevitably come into your lives? Can he open the Scriptures so that you will come to know God in a new and exciting way? He claims to be honest, sincere and faithful. (We’ll see, right?) In any case, we find ourselves in the midst of incredible CHANGE.

And as if that wasn’t enough, another element of familiarity will soon draw to a close. Today is Drew Elling’s last Sunday here. I cannot address his pastoral skills – I haven’t been around him enough – but this I can address. Drew is a man of sincerity, integrity, and compassion. If there’s anything more important than that in ministry, I don’t know what it is. Cedarville’s gain is truly our loss. I can’t tell you how badly I wish we could keep him around for a while. Again, we find ourselves in the midst of incredible change.

But listen to this. Several years ago, I attended the Yokefellow Institute in Richmond, Indiana. The lecturer that week was a man named Lyle Schaller. He had some 50 or 60 ministers perform the following exercise.

We were to take out a piece of paper and write down THE most significant thing that has ever happened in our lives. Think about that. What is the most significant thing that has ever happened in your life? I put down the birth of my oldest son, Rob. (We only had one child at the time.)

Then Dr. Schaller went around the room and every single one of us named the most significant thing that has ever happened in our lives. Then he asked us this question: "Did that significant event represent some kind of CHANGE in your life?" Oh, my gosh, yes! Every single one of us answered with a resounding, "YES!"

Dr. Schaller then made his point. If all the significant things in our lives are marked by profound CHANGE, then why in the world are we so afraid if it? We should not fear change, and in turn, the church should not fear change. Significant things occur in times of change. So why does the church fear change? You know the seven last words of the church, don’t you? The seven last words of the church are: "We’ve never done it that way before!" Ladies and gentlemen, the church should not fear change. God can make anything work toward the good.

Speaking of change – speaking of change – the world is changing all around us as well, is it not? Sunday is no longer sacred. We have sporting events on Sundays, the mall opens at 9 on Sundays, and Sunday is the only day a lot of over-stressed people have to sleep in. And think of the new words that have entered our societal vernacular. Doesn’t everyone now know what I mean when I say, "Columbine;" when I say, "nine-one-one;" or when I say, "W-M-D," which is short for Weapons of Mass Destruction? Fifty years ago, those words meant nothing. My gosh, five years ago those words meant nothing. Today, they fill us with terror. The world around us is changing at a dizzying pace.

And what about this? An entire generation of children is growing up with virtually no knowledge of Jesus Christ as Savior and Lord. For the most part, 18 to 40-year-olds are not in the church. Thus, they are not raising their children in the church. Now with that in mind – and as bad as we think things are today – do we really think things are going to get better in a world devoid of Christian faith? What do you think?

This last thing, though, is something we can do something about. The goals in your recently adopted Mission Statement are right on track. Your goals, you may recall, are as follows:

1. Seek excellence in worship,

2. Increase regular participation in worship and double church school attendance,

3. Increase the number and variety of opportunities for spiritual growth,

4. Promote deeper relationships among church members,

5. Increase the number and variety of youth ministry activities in the church and community, and,

6. Increase membership size and diversity.

I think you’re right on track. I think those are goals we can achieve together. But let me make one thing perfectly clear. A vital, active, thriving church costs a heck of a lot more than does a dying, stagnant one. Did you catch that? Write that down. A vital, active, thriving church COSTS a heck of a lot more than does a dying, stagnant one.

Consider the passage we read from the gospel according to Mark. Jesus is standing in the synagogue, watching people put money into the temple treasury. Many well-to-do people put large sums of money into the treasury. Then a poor widow came and put in two copper coins. And Jesus said, "Truly I say to you, this poor widow has put in more than all those who are contributing to the treasury. For they all contributed out of their abundance; but she, out of her poverty, has put in everything she had…her whole living."

Let’s consider this widow for a moment. She put in everything she had. Now we don’t know much about her, but perhaps we can speculate. Chances are, she’d already eaten that day and had a little left over, so she offered it to God. What she did was truly an act of faith. She knew that God had provided for her needs today, and she trusted that God would provide for her needs tomorrow. Yet wouldn’t it make better sense to us to save those two copper coins for the next day’s food, or the day after that? Wouldn’t it make sense for her to save for a rainy day?

Yet that’s not what she did. She trusted God to provide for her the next day and the next. What she did was truly an act of faith, and Jesus praised her for it. Thus, is Jesus telling us to give everything we have? Is Jesus telling us not to save for a rainy day? What gives?

Yet let’s be truthful about this. We’re not really saving for a rainy day, are we? What we’re really doing is saving for a sunny day. We’re not saving to provide for our needs so much as we’re saving so we can have more of the things we want. And all the while, our world is going to "heck" in a hand-basket! (I’m new. I’ve got to be tactful.)

Ladies and gentlemen, it’s stewardship time. This week, you’ll be receiving your pledge cards in the mail, and next week you’ll be depositing them in the "Church in the Light of the Cross." Give God what’s right, not what’s left. Give it your prayerful consideration. Then pledge in faith, not as an afterthought.

Here’s what I want you to do. I want you to focus on the mission of the church, not on how much it costs to operate the thing. The bottom line of a church budget should never be dollars and cents, it should always be mission. And don’t think in terms of what you gave last year, think in terms of how God has blessed you.

We’ve got a generation of young people who are growing up with virtually no know-ledge of Jesus Christ as Savior and Lord. I’m telling you, we can do something about that! And on Judgment Day, when we stand before the throne of grace and God asks us, "What did you do about the godlessness in your world?" the last thing in the world any one of us wants to say is this: "Lord, we just couldn’t afford it!" Amen.

I find those fence rows fascinating. Frequently the posts are nothing more than tree limbs, whacked off the tree with an axe, and driven into the ground. The rusty barbed wire is held in place by those old, curved, two-pointed nails – I don’t know what you call them.

Yet what I find truly fascinating is the philosophy behind those fences. We human beings are so very good at establishing our boundaries, are we not? True, the fences are there in part to keep what’s ours, in – namely, livestock. But those fences are also there to keep others out. We human beings are really quite good at establishing our boundaries, are we not?

Essentially, we do the very same thing in a lot of other areas of our lives as well. Take some of our "clubs," for example. That’s why we have entry fees and dues. The amount of the entry fees and dues allow some people in, and keep others out – almost like a fence.

Once, an elite club was thinking of lowering its entry fee to increase membership. I overheard two men talking about it. The first man seemed to be in favor of lowering the entry fee, while the second man – clearly – was not. The second man actually said, "This whole thing is ludicrous! We’ve got to keep the riff-raff out!" Since I knew I couldn’t afford to belong to that particular club, I had a sudden awakening. I AM RIFF-RAFF! The jagged edge of that barbed wire fence kept me safely on the outside.

Do we put the same kind of fence around the church? Who is likely to feel welcome in this church, and who is likely to feel unwelcome here? Listen to the following story that deals quite clearly with some of the boundaries we set about the church.

Once upon a time, a man dreamed that he died, and was met at the "Pearly Gates" by none other that St. Peter himself. St. Peter asked him, "Would you like me to show you around?" To which the man quickly replied, "I’d like that very much!"

The man was amazed to discover that heaven was like a great hallway with an unend-ing series of doors. As they approached the first door, the man heard beautiful singing. He said, "What’s behind that door?" St. Peter replied, "Oh, that’s the Methodists. They just love to sing!"

As the man approached the second door, he thought he heard fiery preaching. "What’s behind that door?" the man asked. St. Peter said, "That would be the Southern Baptists. They just love that fire and brimstone!"

As they approached the third door, St. Peter said, "Shh. We’ve got to be very quiet as we go past this door." The man said, "Why?" St. Peter replied, "Behind that door are the Presbyterians. They think they’re the only ones here!"

Of course, Presbyterians don’t really believe that, but if I told you that story the way I really heard it, I’d make some quick enemies in this community. The point is this. Even with our churches, we have a tendency to want to establish boundaries. We have a burning desire to determine who’s in, and to determine who’s out.

Apocalyptic literature has a tendency to do that as well. What is apocalyptic literature? Apocalyptic literature speaks of the end of times – of a cataclysmic battle where God will separate the wheat from the chaff – the good from the bad, the "in" from the "out." The passage I read from the gospel according to Luke is apocalyptic literature. For in it, Jesus is speaking of the end of times.

Jesus says, "And there will be SIGNS in sun and moon and stars, and upon the earth distress of nations in perplexity and the roaring of the sea and the waves…men fainting in fear and foreboding of what is coming on the world." Later he adds, "Now when these things begin to take place, look up and raise your heads, because your redemption is drawing near."

In other words, there will be battles and confusion. There will be pain and suffering and strife. But those who are chosen need only look to God. For God will deliver those whom he loves. God will deliver those who are faithful.

And what do we tend to do with such information? We hoard it unto ourselves because we assume that we’re among the chosen. After all, that’s what Jesus said, is it not? We need only look to God and God will deliver us. The natural assumption is that a heck of a lot of people are going to find themselves on the outside looking in. Do you see the problem here? Even at the end of time, we are wont to establish those blasted bound-aries. Even at the end of time, we’re putting up a fence to keep the riff-raff out.

That’s why I’m convinced that we need to take a passage in its entirety in order to interpret it. Taking a few snippets of Scripture enables us to come up with a fairly favorable interpretation – favorable for us, anyway. But taking the passage in its entirety gives us a more comprehensive idea as to what Jesus really had in mind.

Shortly before the verses I read, Jesus made the following statements. He said, "Nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom; there will be great earth-quakes, and in various places famines and pestilences; and there will be terrors and great SIGNS from heaven." Then Jesus adds, "This will be a time for you to bear testimony." Again, "This will be a time for you to bear testimony."

Thus, the end of times is not a time for us to build fences to keep others out. The end of times is a time for us to tear down fences that everyone might be saved. Now that’s quite a contrast, wouldn’t you say?

I really think that’s what God had in mind when he sent his Son into the world in the first place. Judaism had come to adopt the notion that they were the chosen people of God, and that everyone else was summarily rejected. They had put up their fences, and their barbed wire was very sharp.

Yet in the Incarnation – in the person of Jesus Christ – it’s almost as if God was saying, "No, no, no! This is what I have in mind!" For in Jesus Christ, God’s covenant with humanity was thrown open to everyone. In Jesus Christ, all were enabled to have a relationship with God. And in Jesus Christ, the fences of our own making were forever torn down.

Apocalyptic literature paints a picture of a very darkened earth. Yet that is not a time to build fences – to try to determine who’s in and who’s out. It is, rather, a time to bear testimony. Yet how does one bear testimony?

After a devastating hurricane along the coast of North Carolina, all electrical power in one small town was out for a number of days. It was hot, humid and miserable during the day, but it was really quite frightening at night. Rumors abounded that there had been a good deal of looting. Robberies were taking place because there was no way to contact police.

One particular family – consisting of a mother and her three children – was home alone in the darkness in the aftermath of that hurricane, eating sandwiches by candle-light. Suddenly, there was a loud pounding on their front door, and they were absolutely terrified. Was a robbery about to take place? Was this a looter, trying to find out if the house was empty? There was no way to call anyone for help.

The loud knocking continued. The woman peered out the window and tried to make out the figures on the dark front porch. "Hey!" a voice called out to her. "We’ve got a big bag of ice for you, and some fresh water, too!"

It was the family’s next-door neighbors. They had come bearing gifts of ice and water. And it was a welcome gift, indeed.

As we peer out into the darkness in fear, it makes all the difference in the world whose face we see. Is it a friend, or is it a foe? We all peer out into the great unknown in fear, for our world is very dark indeed. This, as Jesus said, is the time for us to bear witness.

Apocalyptic means – and Advent means – that when we look out over the darkened and storm-filled horizon, we see the face of Jesus. There’s a great big world out there that seems to have less and less knowledge all the time as to who Jesus really is. This is not the time to build fences to keep those people out. This is the time to tell the world that God will win the day, in the end. That would indeed be a SIGN of the coming kingdom of God. So who can you tell? And who can you bring? Amen.

"He’s makin’ a list, he’s checkin’ it twice. Gonna find out who’s naughty and nice. Santa Claus is comin’ to town." I hated that song when I was a kid! Why? Because my mother always used it against me, that’s why.

There I was as a child – making out my Christmas list – putting down on paper the deepest desires of my heart. I’d put down things like a bicycle, a baseball glove, a new guitar. Then my mother would tell me that in order for "Santa" to give me those things, I actually had to be good! Do you have any idea how hard that was for a kid like me? Christmas, I thought, ought to be a time for seeking the deepest desires of the heart, not a time for taking inventory on the past year’s misdeeds, for heaven’s sake! After all, there are so many things we want, right?

What do you want for Christmas this year? Do you want a new car? Does your wardrobe need an upgrade? How about that boat you’ve had your eye on for a while this year? How about those shoes you saw in the window at the mall? And if you get those things, will your life then be complete? Will you find yourself fulfilled? Will getting all you’ve ever wanted really be enough?

I’ll tell you what I want for Christmas this year. I’ve wanted a boat and a Harley for quite some time now. And now I’ve got a great job, and we bought a great house that we really bought right. (I guess everyone knows what we paid for our house since it’s printed in the paper!) Maybe one day I’ll be able to afford my boat or my Harley, but suddenly I realize that getting those things won’t make my life complete.

As you know, my wife and our two little ones are still living in Ohio until our old house is sold. They drive back and forth to Meadville on the weekends. My life is somehow empty without them here, and I suspect their lives have a void right now as well. Each weekend, when they have to drive back, it gets harder and harder. We want to be together by Christmas time this year. That’s what I want for Christmas this year. As we get older, we start to realize that "things" aren’t as important as we once thought they were.

What do you want for Christmas this year? I think Justo Gonzalez put it well in his book, Three Months with the Spirit. You see it printed in the Silent Reflection portion of your bulletins. He says, "The deepest need of all is the need for the gospel, the need for communion with God," and, "the need for life to have meaning." Thus, when all you’ve ever wanted isn’t enough, what you really need is the gospel, communion with God, and for life to have meaning. But how do we get those things? How do we find communion with God and meaning in our lives?

In the passage I read from the gospel according to Luke, John the Baptist was in the region of the Jordan River, preaching a gospel of repentance. He was the one – as the prophet Isaiah foretold – sent to prepare the way of the Lord. John the Baptist was preparing the world for Jesus Christ. And people flocked to him in droves.

Why did they flock? I suspect there were two kinds of people who flocked to John the Baptist. Like today, there were the "haves" and the "have-nots." The "have-nots" were likely looking for justice, for happiness, or for a chance to make a better life. But what were the "haves" looking for? I suspect what they were looking for was communion with God and for meaning in their lives.

You see, when all we’ve ever wanted isn’t enough, that’s what we want. We want communion with God, and we want meaning in our lives. I think of a famous quote from that great Fourth Century theologian, Augustine. He once wrote, "Thou hast made us for thyself, O God, and our hearts are restless until they rest in thee." The hearts of the "haves" will always be restless until they rest in God. So how do we put an end to that restlessness? How do we find communion with God and meaning in our lives? It’s a crisis that plagued those who flocked to John the Baptist, and it’s a crisis that continues to plague us today.

I’ve bit off quite a chunk with that question, haven’t I? Perhaps I can’t answer it fully, but perhaps I can lend just a little bit of insight. So sit back – get comfortable – and listen to a Christmas story about a woman and her family that I think sheds some light on our present plight.

In September of 1960, I woke up one morning with six hungry babies and a grand total of 75 cents in my pocket. The boys ranged in age from three months to seven years, and their sister was but two. Their father was gone. Actually, their dad had never been much more than a presence they feared. Whenever they heard his tires crunch in the gravel driveway outside, they would scramble to hide under their beds. Life was not easy for us.

He did, however, manage to bring home about $15.00 a week to buy groceries. Now that he had decided to leave, there would be no more beatings – but there would be no food money either. If there was a welfare system in effect in Southern Indiana in 1960, I certainly knew nothing about it.

One morning, I scrubbed the kids until they looked brand new, and put on my best homemade dress. I loaded all six of them into our rusty old ’51 Chevy, and drove off in search of a job. We went to every factory, store and restaurant in town. No luck.

The kids stayed crammed in the car while I tried to convince whoever would listen that I was willing to learn or do anything. I had to have a job! Still no luck.

The last place we went – just a few miles outside of town – was an old Root Beer Barrel drive-in that had been converted into a truck stop. It was called The Big Wheel. And elderly woman named "Granny" owned the place, and she peeked out the window from time to time to look at all those kids. She needed someone to work the graveyard shift – eleven at night until seven in the morning. She paid 65 cents an hour, and told me I could start that night.

I raced home and called a teenager down the street that babysat for people. I bargained with her to come and sleep on my sofa for a dollar a night. She could arrive with her pajamas on, and the kids would already be asleep. This seemed like a good arrangement to her, so we made a deal. That night when the little ones and I knelt to say our prayers we all thanked God for finding Mommy a job. And so I started at the Big Wheel.

When I got home in the mornings, I woke the babysitter and sent her home with one dollar of my tip money – fully half of what I averaged every night. As the weeks went by, the heating bills added another strain to my meager salary. Then the tires on the old Chevy grew bald and began to leak. I had to fill them with air on the way to work, and again every morning before I could go home.

One bleak fall morning, I dragged myself to the car to go home, and found four tires in the back seat! New tires! There was no note – no nothing – just those beautiful, brand new tires. Had angels taken up residence in southern Indiana? I wondered.

I made a deal with the owner of the local service station. In exchange for his mounting the new tires, I would clean his office. (I remember it took me a lot longer to scrub his floors than it did for him to do the tires.)

I was now working six nights a week instead of five, and it still wasn’t enough. Christmas was coming, and I knew there would be no money for toys for the kids. I found a can of red paint and started repairing and painting some old toys. Then I hid them in the basement so there would be something for "Santa" to deliver on Christmas morning. Clothes were a worry, too. I was sewing patches on top of patches on the boys’ pants, and soon they would be too far gone to repair.

On Christmas Eve, the usual customers were drinking coffee at the Big Wheel. There were the truckers – Les, Frank and Jim – and a state trooper named Joe. A few musicians were hanging around after a gig at the Legion, and were dropping nickels in the pinball machine. The regulars all sat around and talked through the wee hours of the morning, then left to get home before the sun came up.

When it was time for me to go home at 7:00 on Christmas morning, I hurried to the car. I was hoping the kids wouldn’t wake up before I managed to get home and get the presents from the basement and place them under the tree. (We had cut down a small cedar tree by the side of the road down by the dump.)

It was still dark and I couldn’t see very much, but there appeared to be some dark shadows in the car – or were my eyes playing tricks on me? Something certainly looked different, but it was hard to tell just what. When I reached the car, I peered warily into one of the side windows.

Then my jaw dropped in amazement. My old, battered Chevy was filled to the top with boxes of all shapes and sizes. I quickly opened the door, scrambled inside, and knelt in the front facing the back seat. Reaching back, I pulled the lid off the top box. Inside was a whole case of little blue jeans, sizes 2 to 10! I looked inside another box. It was full of shirts to go with the jeans. Then I peeked inside some of the other boxes. There were candy and nuts and bananas and bags of groceries. There was an enormous ham for baking, and canned vegetables and potatoes. There was a whole bag of laundry supplies, and cleaning items. And there were five toy trucks and one beautiful little doll.

As I drove home through the empty streets as the sun slowly rose on the most amazing Christmas Day of my life, I was sobbing with gratitude. And I will never forget the joy on the faces of my little ones that precious morning. Yes, there were angels in southern Indiana that long-ago December. And they all hung out at The Big Wheel truck stop.

God, in his infinite wisdom, has filled the world with "haves" and "have-nots." The "haves" have something to offer the "have-nots," in terms of food or tires or clothes. Yet the "have-nots" have something to offer the "haves" as well. For in assisting the lot of the "have-nots," God fills us with a sense of purpose, and truly gives meaning to our lives.

One of the wonderful things about starting a new church is that you don’t know any of my old stories, so I can use them all again. Another wonderful thing is that I can utilize certain incidents that occurred in previous churches without any fear of retribution. But rest assured, I only use those incidents to illustrate important points, and I use the utmost discretion. I don’t want anyone to be afraid to come and talk to me for fear that their particular "issue" is going to show up as a sermon illustration some day. I promise you, your secrets are safe with me.

A number of years ago, I had a custodian who actually had a bachelor’s degree in psychology. A standard office joke was that the secretary could say – when someone came to talk – "The pastor’s not in right now. Would you like to speak to our custodian?"

The custodian’s name was Terry. Now in addition to having a bachelor’s degree in psychology, Terry came from what we might call a very conservative religious back-ground. Terry used to like to argue religious points with me and – being young and arrogant myself – I was more than willing to oblige.

Before we go on, let me present an important aside. As I understand it, there’s been some mudslinging in the paper here between a number of ministers in this community. Ministers are accusing other ministers of not being Christian, and some have even been challenged to a public debate. I refuse to stoop to that level. As one becomes older – and maybe even wiser – one realizes that when it comes to Christianity, what matters most is not that we are "right." What matters most is that we are faithful. Have I made my point?

Now back to Terry and me. We used to have these great theological debates. We were both young and arrogant at the time, and what mattered most to both of us was that we were "right." Of course, that necessarily implied that the other was wrong, but that’s beside the point. What we seemed to argue about most frequently was the means of salvation. Terry would always say, "You have to choose Jesus Christ in order to be saved." What I would always say was, "No, God first chooses us. We must respond to God’s call in Christ." He was speaking out of his religious tradition, and I was speaking out of mine.

One time Terry bought a pickup truck in the state of South Dakota that had 70,000 miles on it. He registered it in Minnesota, then sold it two years later. The person who bought the truck from Terry then went to register it in South Dakota again, and – lo and behold – the pickup, mysteriously, had only 60,000 miles on it. Somehow that pickup truck had lost 10,000 miles in the course of two years.

An F.B.I. agent showed up at my church, looking for Terry. Apparently, there was some "ring" in the state of South Dakota that was rolling back the mileage on vehicles and they came to investigate him. Terry, of course, was not a part of that "ring," but he got his hands slapped just the same. And let me tell you, Terry was one humbled young man.

So I called Terry into my office for a little theological debate. I knew I had him this time. I said, "Did you roll the mileage back on that truck?" He said, "No. Sometimes those odometers run backwards!" I said, "They do not!"

Then I said, "Now Terry, you are a born-again Christian. Rolling the mileage back on a vehicle amounts to stealing. How can you call yourself a Christian and do something like that?" To which Terry replied – I kid you not – "Well, the person who bought the truck might not have been a Christian!" In other words, what Terry was saying was that if I’m a Christian, and I am saved, it’s all right to behave in an unethical manner to those who might not be Christian. How does that statement sit with you?

Believe it or not, that is exactly the situation John the Baptist confronted in the pas-sage we read from the gospel according to Luke. Here he was, baptizing people in the River Jordan, and literally hundreds of people came out to be baptized by him. Among those people were descendants of Abraham – people of the Jewish faith. They believed themselves to be among the chosen people of God, and for them, this baptism business was nothing more than a mere formality. As far as they were concerned, they could live and do as they pleased, then fall back on their birthrights for salvation.

Yet when they stood before John the Baptist, he lit them up. "You brood of vipers!" he cried. "Who warned you to flee from the wrath to come? Bear fruits that befit repentance, and do not begin to say to yourselves, ‘We have Abraham as our father,’ for I tell you, God is able from these stones to raise up children to Abraham."

In other words, the faith you proclaim with your lips means nothing if it doesn’t touch your heart. God can raise descendants of Abraham from stones. God can raise people who proclaim Jesus Christ as their Savior from the rocks, as well. "Bear fruits that befit repentance," John says. What matters most is not what you say you believe. What matters most – what matters most – is that you LIVE your faith.

In Christian terminology, this is what we refer to as the interplay between justification and sanctification. We are justified in God’s eyes by the sacrifice of Jesus Christ on the cross. Now we have the hope of life everlasting. Yet because we are justified, we are also called to be sanctified. We are sanctified when – by the power and presence of the Holy Spirit – we bear fruit that befits repentance. We are sanctified when – by the power and presence of the Holy Spirit – we strive to live the faith we profess. Our reception of the grace of God in Christ is supposed to make a difference in our lives.

Thus, as Christians, can we really roll back the mileage on a vehicle, even if the person who buys is isn’t a Christian? As Christians, can we cheat on the person we’ve pledged to love till death do we part? As Christians, can we be disreputable in business? And maybe here’s the hardest one of all: As Christians, can we be anything but brutally honest on our tax returns?

Being a Christian is anything but easy. Being a Christian involves discipline and integrity. Being a Christian necessarily implies that we do everything in our power to actually live our faith. But, we all make mistakes, do we not? Each and every one of us – at one time or another – fails to live up to the faith we profess.

What does John the Baptist have to say about that? He concludes our passage using these words: "I baptize you with water; but he who is mightier than I is coming, the thong of whose sandals I am not worthy to untie; he will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and with fire. His winnowing fork is in his hand, to clear his threshing floor, and to gather the wheat into his granary…but the chaff he will burn with unquenchable fire!"

How does that make you feel? Doesn’t John leave us with the sense that our missteps will be punished by God’s judgment? Doesn’t John leave us with the fear that we are the chaff God will burn with unquenchable fire? It’s this judgmental aspect of Christianity that makes it seem so unappealing. To leave things as John the Baptist lays them out leaves us with an incredible feeling of guilt and shame, does it not?

Now let me state here that a little guilt can be a good thing. It can move us to make certain changes in our lives – changes for the better. But shame is never a good thing. We should never be made to feel ashamed for who and what we are.

Besides, this is where the "justification" aspect comes back into play. Recall that sanctification implies that – by the power and presence of the Holy Spirit – we strive to live our faith in our daily lives. Yet justification implies that we are justified – that we are loved and accepted – in the eyes of God.

The words of John the Baptist aside, Christians are justified in the eyes of God. God loves us more than life itself. That’s why he sent his Son, Jesus Christ. There is no need to feel shame for who we are, for we are justified in the eyes of God. We have faith in a God who loves us. We believe in the God of second chances.

I wrote a poem a number of years ago for a friend of mine who was being married for …actually, I guess it was the third time. I called the poem, The God of Second Chances. Listen to the words, because I think they’re applicable here.

To come of age in this wide world,

One finds life’s full of dances.

One knows there is – yet turns not to –

The God of second chances.

We want to spread our mighty wings

To soar far as we can.

A conquest here, a vict’ry there;

Who thought it’d be this grand?

We have success and all is good

In this terrestrial life.

To top it off, we then seek out

A husband or a wife.

We fall in love and happiness

Is all we think and feel.

And then along comes one, two, three

Children with which to deal.

But that’s all right. It gives our life

A sense of true delight.

We always have more love to share.

It simply feels so right.

We live our lives by our own rules

‘bout each and every day.

We have success, but then come woes,

To boot, along the way.

A child in whom we took such pride

Turns out not like we’d planned.

He takes a wrong turn here and there

In spite of our demands.

And then that husband or that wife

No longer feels the same.

So they want out. And we want out.

It’s such a hurtful game.

Then there’s that job for which we strove

Our hardest every day.

Turns out it’s simply a dead end.

We only work for pay.

Or what if everything’s still grand?

In life we find no lies.

But then that one we loved so much

Gets sick, and then he dies?

We find that life is not all fun

And games along the way.

We have our good days and our bad.

So then we learn to pray.

As long as we maintain our faith

Across life’s wide expanses,

We’ll find that we are blessed by Him;

The God of second chances.

To get a second chance at life

And love; a chance to cope.

We want it and we find that this

Is all for which we hope.

Perhaps the second time around

We won’t take it for granted.

The seed of love now in our hearts

Will be securely planted.

We learn life has its ups and downs

But still we do find love.

We find a sense of happiness:

It comes from up above.

Oh, there are those who’ll think we’ve failed

And made a few mistakes.

But until life takes twists and turns

You don’t know what it takes.

No longer are we fooled by all

Life’s trials, hoops and trances.

We’ve found we now owe all to Him:

The God of second chances.

Dear Mariah,

Today you have received the Sacrament of Baptism. As you are little more than four months old, you will not remember this day. But your mother and I will, as will your grandparents, and everyone else in worship with us today.

What does Baptism mean? First – and perhaps foremost – it symbolizes your reception of the Holy Spirit. The Holy Spirit is God within us. Now a part of God dwells within you. In addition, it symbolizes your being washed clean of sin. At four months you do not understand sin, nor have you committed sin – although you did spit up on me one time – but I promise you, I won’t hold that against you.

Now you are a part of the Church universal, and all the people who are here today have pledged to help strengthen your family ties with the household of God. It is my hope – and the hope of the Presbyterian Church – that you will confirm the vows your mother and I took for you today by uniting with the church particular when you reach the proper age. Yet, since I will likely be teaching that class, you may have very little choice.

There is a passage in Scripture that I hope you will remember throughout the course of your life. It comes from the gospel according to Luke. A man asked Jesus, "Lord, will those who are saved be few?" It’s a timeless question – one that’s really asking how many people will there be in heaven. Jesus deftly sidestepped the issue to deal with what really matters. Don’t tend to anyone’s garden but your own when it comes to matters of eternity. He said to the man, "Strive to enter by the narrow door, for many, I tell you, will seek to enter and will not be able."

Luke calls the way to heaven a narrow door. Matthew calls it a narrow gate and a hard way. I prefer to consider it a lifelong journey and call it the narrow way. There is a narrow way which leads to God, and there is an easy way that leads somewhere else.

What Jesus means here is that faith in Christ is neither an Epicureanism that would make life promiscuous, nor an asceticism that would leave life mutilated. Epicurus was an ancient Greek philosopher who thought that knowledge and pleasure were the highest goods. That’s what Epicureanism is. It’s centered on the self, not on God. And asceticism is simply self-denial – or suffering – for spiritual uplifting. All that does is mutilate life.

Faith in Christ is neither an Epicureanism that would make life promiscuous, nor an asceticism that would leave life mutilated. Faith in Christ is a discipline that leads life to heaven, like the pruning of a plant gives it a more magnificent bloom. Faith involves discipline, and Mariah – that is what the narrow way is all about.

You’re barely four months old right now. You have so much ahead of you, such a life to live. As I cradle you in my arms I can envision some of what you will behold.

In no time, you’ll be going to school. Of course, I hope you’ll do your best and bring home "A’s" in every class. Yet there will be tremendous pressure from others for you to do poorly. It’s an unfortunate fact of life that those who do not do well in school tend to ridicule those who do. They will want you to do poorly to bring you down to their level. But all you gain by giving in is the loss of your own hopes and dreams. Mariah, that’s the easy way that leads to destruction. The narrow way – and the more difficult way – is to try to do your best in all that you do.

Believe me, I know what peer pressure is all about. You will want to be accepted by those around you and by all means, that’s important. It’s a part of socialization. You will likely have friends that can convince you to do things that your own good judgment tells you not to do. Take bungee jumping, for example. Doug, whom you will one day meet, talked me into doing it and your mother and his wife went along for the ride. I was never so scared in all my life as I was when I backed off that 75-foot platform. Your mother says she wasn’t all that afraid, but I know better. Although our experience was really pretty safe, I wonder what death-defying thrills people will seek as you approach adult-hood. I’m sure they will still involve alcohol and drugs. I sincerely hope you won’t give in just because someone wants you to do something. When they say, "But everyone else is doing it!" closer examination will tell you that’s just not so.

As you grow, I will be the only man in your life. Yet eventually, others will want to enter the picture. Please try to understand how difficult that will be for me. And pay no attention to your older brother. Right now he’s programmed. I say, "Rob, what are you going to do when someone comes over to pick Mariah up for a date?" And he says, "I will punch them out!" Yet when you begin to date in 15 or 16 years, the two of you probably won’t see eye to eye and he won’t care who you go out with – unless, of course, it’s one of his friends. But since I probably won’t let you date until you’re at least 35, it won’t matter anyway! (Just kidding.)

The trend now is to live together. A man and a woman decide to share the same living quarters prior to the commitment of marriage, much the same way as you test drive a car or try on a pair of shoes before the purchase. Probably 90% of the weddings I do are for couples who have lived together before marriage. Yet believe it or not, those who live together first actually have a higher divorce rate than those who do not. I hope that living together before marriage is no longer a trend when you grow up. You see, it’s hard to change a life of virtually no commitment to a life that involves the highest commitment.

There is a higher purpose to marriage than simply sharing a bedroom. Marriage involves committing yourself to one person in much the same way as you commit yourself to God. Life is full of fuzzy commitments, but hopefully not to your husband or your wife…and hopefully, not to God. Marriage, my dear, is the narrow way.

One day, I suspect, you will choose a vocation. Note that I chose the word "vocation" over the word "career" or "job," because the word vocation implies a sense of call. Whatever your vocation might be, I’ll do my best to support you. Yet I hope you will not base your vocation simply upon earning potential. You see, earning potential is the easy way in that you needn’t abide by Christian principle. To step on others on your way to the top is acceptable practice if earning potential is your ultimate goal. Base your vocation upon what you feel God is calling you to be. God calls ministers, doctors, teachers and homemakers. Just do your best to be what God is calling you to be.

The story is told of a woman who was used to living in the lap of luxury in every respect. She’d made it to the top and spared no expense – and spared no one – to get there. She died, and when she arrived in heaven, an angel was sent to lead her to her new living quarters. They passed by many a lovely mansion and the woman thought that each one, as they came to it, must be the one allotted to her.

When they had passed through the main streets, they came to the outskirts where the houses were much smaller. On the very fringe of town, they came to a house that was little more than a hut. "That is your eternal dwelling place," the guiding angel said. "What? That?" said the woman. "I cannot live in that!"

"I’m terribly sorry," the guiding angel said. "But that is all we could build for you with the materials you sent up!"

The standards of heaven are not the standards of earth. There is an easy way, and there is a narrow way. How does that old saying go: "The first shall be last and the last shall be first?" Choose your vocation wisely.

I leave you now with a challenge. My charge to you is this:

Mariah as you walk each day

Always take the narrow way.

There’ll always be another road

With brighter lights and lighter load.

Right now you are a darling child

With shining eyes and manners mild.

Your tiny head will one day hold

Locks of crimson, dreams of gold.

I’m sure I’ll be a doting dad,

And never want to see you sad.

I’ll do my best for your delight,

And always try to make things right.

I fear the day you’ll go your way

And want to write your own life’s play.

I hope I’ll raise you as I should

And do the best a father could.

You are a gift entrusted me

To dedicate in praise of he.

You are not mine, you’re not your own.

Your life is God’s, and God’s alone.

Corey was probably nine years old, but he was one of those kids that was really big for his age. His grandmother lived just down the street from us so in the summer of 1997, we saw a lot of Corey. He’d come to the house to play with Rob, who was nearly nine himself at the time.

Now Corey came from a very troubled background. In fact, Corey – remember, he was only nine – had already been in a great deal of serious trouble. He’d gone over to someone’s house one time to see their newborn puppies. Left alone with seven puppies, he choked them to death, one by one. What would possess a nine-year-old boy to choke seven puppies to death?

Now I’d heard about the puppy incident from my next-door-neighbor, Chuck, who looked exactly like a slightly younger version of our own Howie McCall, but that’s another story. In any case, we did not want to shun Corey, so we allowed him to play with the kids.

One summer day, I was working out in the front yard. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Corey walk between our house and Chuck’s house with our youngest son, Travis, and his friend, Thomas. (Travis was not yet four at the time, and Thomas was probably five.) Corey was carrying a rope, but I was busy – thinking about other things, I suppose – and somehow, it just didn’t register.

They were laughing and yelling, but soon it got quiet – too quiet. Then, kind of like coming to the solution of a complex math problem, a light slowly came on in my thick head. Corey has a rope, and he just walked between the houses with Travis and Thomas. I quickly walked between the houses myself to see what they were doing. There I discovered Travis and Thomas – back-to-back – as Corey wound the rope tightly around them. I said, "What’s going on here?" To which Corey replied, "We’re playing cowboys and Indians."

Now I have a tendency to be just a bit high-strung, but I think I maintained my composure fairly well. I pointed at Travis and Thomas and said, "You two, in the house!" Then I pointed at Corey and said, "You, that way!"

Maybe their fun was innocent fun, but then again, maybe it was not. I certainly wasn’t taking any chances with the lives of those two boys. I wasn’t about to wait until I over-heard the words, "Me scalp’um white man!" But seriously, it seems as if there’s more and more evil in the world these days, and that evil is being acted out by younger and younger people all the time.

Listen to this. As some of you know, my wife taught in the inner city of Youngstown, Ohio for three years. If you’ve never been to Youngstown, trust me – there is an inner city.

Leslie taught music in what was probably the toughest area of all. Over the course of three years, she’d been hit, kicked, punched, scratched and bit. One day, as she moved through the classroom, a little girl walked over to her…and clamped her hands around Leslie’s throat. Did I mention that this little girl was a third grader? Leslie said she broke the child’s grip and – horrified – looked into the girl’s eyes. She did not see hatred or anger or malice. She said she saw dead eyes, like a shark going after its prey. There was nothing there at all.

I could cite case after case after case, and I’m sure that you could too. There seems to be more and more evil in the world these days, and that evil is being acted out by younger and younger people all the time. Why is that? Perhaps we could explain it from a psychological perspective and say that those kids are acting of a bad home environment in an effort to gain attention – any attention. But I am not a psychologist, I am a theologian. Is there a way to approach this behavior from a theological perspective as well?

I think there is. Hear me out on this. I postulate the theory that there’s an absence of the Holy Spirit. We know the Holy Spirit as God in us, and I think we’ve ignored the efficacy of the Holy Spirit long enough.

Now before I go on, let me say this. The Holy Spirit cannot be equated with the conscience. I learned that when I did a stint as a prison chaplain in seminary. Prisoners have a conscience. It’s just that that conscience allows them to do some fairly outrageous things. I’m not going to go into detail about that. Suffice it to say that the Holy Spirit – God within us – cannot be equated with the conscience.

As Christians, we believe the Holy Spirit comes at the time of our baptisms. In the passage we read from the gospel according to Luke, Jesus was baptized by John in the River Jordan. It was there that the Holy Spirit descended upon him like a dove. That’s part and parcel to our theology of baptism. Among other things, we believe the sacrament of baptism is symbolic of one’s reception of the Holy Spirit.

But just what exactly is this Holy Spirit? We know God the Father as God over and above us. We know God the Son as God with us and for us. And we know God the Holy Spirit – we know God the Holy Spirit – as God in us. When the Holy Spirit comes into our lives, we come to know God as our heavenly Father, and we come to know ourselves as children of God. And what is the evidence that the Holy Spirit is at work in our lives? The evidence…is love. The Holy Spirit is at work within us when we respond to others with love.

The Greek word for Spirit is "pneuma." Thus, the study of the Spirit is called "pneumatology." In a college course called "Pneumatology 101," you would learn three basic things. The Holy Spirit is God in us. The Holy Spirit teaches us that God is our Father and we are his children. And evidence that the Holy Spirit is efficacious – that the Holy Spirit is active – is love. There’s your "Pneumatology 101" course in a nutshell.

As I mentioned before, we believe the Holy Spirit comes to us at the time of our baptisms. Can we thus conclude that baptism could resolve all our problems? If these troubled children were baptized, would they be magically, mysteriously transformed? Maybe, but I think there’s more to it than that. You knew there would be, didn’t you?

The second woman looked at me and said, "The Presbyterian Church on Liberty Street?" I said, "Yes." She said, "Oh, I used to go there. But it’s not the same since Pastor Dave left." What am I supposed to say to that? I said, "Well, I’m not Dave. I suppose things are different now."

Truer words have never been spoken. Baptism is the right thing to do for your child, but then you also have to take them back. Baptism is symbolic of one’s reception of the Holy Spirit. But like I said a moment ago, baptism will not resolve all our problems. For in addition to receiving the Holy Spirit, we must nurture the Holy Spirit as well. Did you catch that? In addition to receiving the Holy Spirit, we must nurture the Holy Spirit as well.

Try this analogy on for size. The Holy Spirit within us is like the flickering flame of a newly-started campfire. Every time we turn our backs on opportunities for spiritual growth, it’s like we throw a bucket of cold water on the fire. Every time we take advantage of opportunities for spiritual growth, it’s like we place dried kindling on the fire. Only in taking advantage of those opportunities will we stoke the flames of the Spirit. Only in nurturing the Holy Spirit will we begin to respond to others with love.

I don’t think I can be any more clear than that. I know in our society today, many people can take the church or leave it. They can turn to God when it’s convenient or necessary, then rely on their own devices when it’s not. It’s a simple matter of stoking the flames of the Holy Spirit, or dousing them with cold water.

I think you see what dousing the flames of the Holy Spirit with cold water has gotten us. There seems to be more and more evil in the world these days, and that evil is being acted out by younger and younger people all the time. Yet there is something we can do about that.

I am quickly developing a vision for the ministry of this church. I think what we need to do is nurture the Holy Spirit in the children of this community. Therefore, the target of our ministry needs to be that 25 to 50 year-old age bracket. We absolutely, positively must reach the parents of those children!

You know, when I graduated from high school some 26 years ago, it seemed like pretty much everyone belonged to a church. That is not the case today. Now what is it? One in three? One in four? One in five? We can no longer sit on our hands and believe we live in a Christian society – or at least a society that espouses Christian values – because, I’m telling you, WE DO NOT! Evidence of the love wrought by the indwelling Holy Spirit is noticeably lacking.

I have performed 144 weddings in my ministerial career and it’s my experience that in every single one of them, at least one thing went wrong. Of course, that necessarily implies that about a thousand things went right, but it always seems as if one little thing goes wrong. At this point, I wish I could tell you of some hysterical wedding misadventure, but I can’t. The so-called "disasters" are usually simple things like a candle that will not light or a runner that breaks loose and follows the ushers down the center aisle.

As I think about it, the greatest wedding disaster I’ve ever had happened quite recently. The couple was living in Tennessee and they wanted me to marry them in Ohio. They bought their wedding license in Ohio’s Columbiana County, and we did the wedding in the chapel at Mount Union College…which is in Stark County. As luck would have it, since they were from out of state, Columbiana County would not honor the license since the wedding was not in Columbiana County. If they’d been from Ohio the license would have been valid anywhere in the state, but since they were not from Ohio, the license was not valid. It would have been nice had I known that BEFORE the wedding, but such is life.

Do you see the problem? They got back from their honeymoon only to discover that they weren’t really married – at least not as far as the state was concerned. Fortunately, the couple saw the humor in the situation. They got remarried by a judge in Tennessee. As the bride later put it, "Now we have two anniversaries!"

Weddings are special events and naturally, we want everything to be perfect. I’m sure the couple of whom we read in the gospel according to John wanted their wedding to be perfect as well. But then, disaster struck. They ran out of wine at the wedding feast.

Now in those days, this was considered a huge social blunder. To run out of wine at the wedding feast would have subjected the couple to ridicule for many years to come. Ah, something went wrong with the wedding at Cana in Galilee.

Fortunately, Jesus was there to head off disaster. He commanded some of the servants to fill six stone jars with water. Then, miraculously, Jesus turned the water into wine. And it wasn’t the cheap stuff – it was the best wine that had been served all day. Jesus turned water into wine and saved that couple from social embarrassment. If my math is correct, he made somewhere between 120 and 180 gallons of the stuff!

Now there are a number of things we can say at this point, but first I want to say this. Saving a couple from social embarrassment seems like a trivial thing, does it not? This miracle of turning water into wine is hardly on the same level as raising a child from the dead or curing a man of leprosy. But you see, that’s the point. No matter is too trivial for God. Any thing that vexes us can be taken to God in prayer in the name of Jesus Christ.

Ministers learn this kind of thing early on. Seminary is hard. I, personally, thought it was a heck of a lot harder than college. I remember saying – on more than one occasion – as final exams loomed upon the horizon, "Lord, if you really want me to be a minister, then you’re going to have to help me pass this test!" Of course, seeking God’s aid on a test does not relinquish one of the responsibility of studying, but the point remains the same. No matter is too trivial for God. Any thing that vexes us can be taken to God in prayer in the name of Jesus Christ…be it a test, be it a relationship, be it a financial matter, or be it an ingrown toenail. We are invited to seek God’s aid, be the matter significant, or be it not. Such are the fringe benefits of being a child of God.

Yet believe it or not, this passage has a profound theological significance as well. Read any commentary on the gospel according to John and the authors will reach the same conclusion on the miracle at Cana. This was the first miracle Jesus performed. The significance is that it revealed Jesus’ power, and because of this miracle, his disciples believed in him. So aside from resolving a bride and groom’s dilemma, this miracle enabled the disciples to see that there was more to Jesus Christ than meets the eye.

Now remember, the wedding at Cana took place just a few days after Jesus had called his disciples. Surely Jesus was a captivating personality, so much so that the disciples had left their jobs and their loved ones to follow him. Ah, but now they saw there was much more to him than that. Turning water into wine was a bit out of the ordinary, and the disciples began to see for themselves that Jesus had the power of God.

That’s a crucial element to faith. People don’t truly begin to believe in Jesus Christ – or to believe in God, for that matter – until they experience the grace of God for them-selves. For that, my friends, is when our faith moves from our heads to our hearts.

Did you ever see the movie – or read the book – A Man Called Peter? It was written by his widow, and it was about the Reverend Peter Marshall, the Scottish preacher who made good in America.

At one point in the story, his wife, Catherine, was bedfast for many months. Peter was doing his best to manage the bustling New York Avenue Presbyterian Church in Washington, D.C., as well as to manage the household during his wife’s illness. Then the furnace in the basement of the manse went out and it was something like the proverbial last straw. He dropped in a heap on the stairs and turned to God in prayer.

To make a long story short, he realized that he was trying to manage everything by way of his own will and power. He’d finally reached his limit, and he begged God for help. God answered his prayers, and his spirit was renewed. That’s what it means to experience the grace of God for ourselves. God comes to us when we turn to him in the midst of our greatest tribulations, and miraculously transforms the situation. If you’ve ever experienced such a thing, then you have experienced the grace of God. If you’ve every experienced such a thing, then you know that the love of God is real. And that, my friends, is how our faith moves from our heads to our hearts.

The disciples witnessed the power of God when they saw Jesus turn water into wine. They saw first-hand what Jesus could do, and they came to realize that this faith business was more than just mere words. The power of God – and the love of God – the disciples saw was real.

That’s the theological significance of this particular passage, but I think there’s a spiritual significance as well. Jesus transformed water into wine. The spiritual significance of this is that Jesus took the ordinary – water – and transformed it into the extraordinary – wine. Jesus has the power to transform the ordinary into the extra-ordinary.

Our lives are filled with the ordinary, are they not? Take the relationship between a husband and a wife, for example. After so many years of marriage, the relationship can become routine – the relationship can become ordinary. Now I call "ordinary" that which we take for granted. Let me repeat that: I call "ordinary" that which we take for granted.

We do have a tendency to take a husband or a wife for granted, do we not? Yet somehow, that should never be the case. A marriage, ideally, is based upon love. And love is something that should never be taken for granted. For when it comes right down to it, is there anything in the world we crave more than to love and to be loved? Again, is there anything in the world we crave more than to love and to be loved? While in theory the person we have pledged to love and who has pledged to love us should never be taken for granted, in practice, that is sometimes the case. We do take him or her for granted, and the marriage relationship can become ordinary.

Yet like I said, Jesus transforms the ordinary into the extraordinary. How does he to that? Well, I can’t map out the formula. If I could, I’d write a book, go on the lecture circuit, and retire early. But God – and the Pastor Nominating Committee that brought me here just three months ago – would never let me do that.

Let me just say this. When a couple feels as if their relationship is becoming ordinary, they should sit down together and pray. They should plead with God to transform their relationship. They should ask God to make the "ordinary," extra-ordinary. I cannot say HOW God will make it happen, I can only say God will. God can and will transform your ordinary into the extraordinary if you take the time and effort to ask. (And since we’re all Americans here, I should probably add that this is likely to take more than one five-minute prayer!)

Perhaps this should be done with every relationship in our lives. Perhaps this should be done with every aspect of ourselves that seems to have become "ordinary." This isn’t about getting ahead or being successful. Instead, it’s more about finding that sense of peace and purpose for which we all so desperately long.

And when that happens, our very lives will be transformed from ordinary into extra-ordinary. Other people will begin to notice. What’s more, they will likely be inexplicably drawn to us because we’ll have something they desperately want.

Uh oh, am I talking about evangelism here? I think I am. That’s one of the primary points of Christianity’s influence. It has an infectious tendency to draw others in.

We’ve all heard about these mega-churches that are sweeping the nation, haven’t we? They’ve got upbeat music, they’ve got a motivational speaker in the pulpit, and they’ve got hundreds of people in the pews. Now I’m not going to address the contemporary music or the theological problems I have with a motivational speaker in the pulpit right now. Today, rather, I want to talk about the people in the pews. Why are so many of them there?

I once had a conversation with a 20-year-old girl who attended a mega-church. Since she had been raised in a more traditional mainline church, I asked her why she went. She said she liked the music, and she liked the preaching. But what really drew her was the sincerity of the congregation. They were open, they were welcoming, they were loving. In her opinion, that congregation truly lived the faith they professed. In other words, they were REAL.

We Presbyterians have been called "The Frozen Chosen" for far too long. It is you – the congregation – that can truly drawn new people to this church. It is not something we can fake, however. It is something that has to take place at the very core of our beings. We must be transformed.

 Love is that first feeling you feel before all the bad stuff gets in the way.

 When my grandmother got arthritis, she couldn’t bend over and paint her toenails any more. So my grandfather does it for her all the time, even when his hands got arthritis, too. That’s love.

 When someone loves you, the way they say your name is different. You know that your name is safe in their mouth.

 Love is when a girl puts on perfume and a boy puts on shaving cologne and then they go out and smell each other.

 Love is when you go out to eat and give somebody most of your French fries without making them give you any of theirs.

 Love is when someone hurts you. And you get so mad but you don’t yell at them because you know it would hurt their feelings.

 Love is what makes you smile when you are tired.

 Love is when my mommy makes coffee for my daddy and she takes a sip before giving it to him, to make sure the taste is okay.

 Love is when you kiss all the time. Then when you get tired of kissing, you still want to be together and you talk more. My mommy and daddy are like that. They look gross when they kiss!

 Love is what’s in the room with you at Christmas, if you stop opening presents and listen.

 If you want to learn to love better, you should start with a friend who you hate.

 When you tell someone something bad about yourself and you’re scared they won’t love you any more. But then you get surprised because not only do they still love you, they love you even more.

 There are two kinds of love – our love and God’s love. But God makes both kinds of them.

 Love is when you tell a guy you like his shirt, then he wears it every day.

 Love is like a little old woman and a little old man who are still friends even after they know each other so well.

 During my piano recital, I was on stage and scared. I looked at all the people watching me and saw my daddy waving and smiling. He was the only one doing that. My daddy loves me, so I wasn’t scared any more.

 My mommy loves me more than anybody. You don’t see anyone else kissing me to sleep at night.

 Love is when mommy gives daddy the best piece of chicken.

 Love is when mommy sees daddy smelly and sweaty, and still says he is "handsomer" than Denzel Washington.

 Love is when your puppy licks your face even after you left him alone all day.

 I know my older sister loves me because she gives me all her old clothes and then has to go out and buy new ones.

 I let my big sister pick on me because my mom says she only picks on me because she loves me. So I pick on my baby sister because I love her!

 Love cards like Valentine’s cards say stuff on them that we’d like to say ourselves, but we wouldn’t be caught dead saying.

 When you love somebody, your eyelashes go up and down and little stars come out of you.

And last but not least, these two may be the best of all:

 You really shouldn’t say, "I love you," unless you mean it. But if you mean it, you should say it a lot. People forget.

 And, God could have said magic words to make the nails fall off the cross, but he didn’t. That’s love.

All these things were said by children, ages four through eight, in answer to the question, "What does love mean?" Ah, "Out of the mouths of babes," they say. Could anyone express the meaning of love any better than those kids?

The Apostle Paul takes a stab at defining love himself in the passage we read from the first book of Corinthians. What does love mean? Paul says love is patient, love is kind. Love is not jealous or boastful. Love is not arrogant or rude. Love, Paul says, doesn’t insist upon its own way. Love is not irritable or resentful. Love does not rejoice at wrong, rather, love rejoices in the right. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never ends. That’s how Paul answers the question, "What does love mean?"

Now we’re all Presbyterians here. Therefore, we have a moral obligation to take a scholarly approach to the words of the Apostle Paul, do we not? That way we can avoid any gushy sentimentalism and keep this business of love at arm’s length. Far be it from us to let down our defenses and become too emotional.

As you know, the letters of Paul – of which the first book of Corinthians is one – were originally written in Greek. Just as the Eskimos have eleven different words for snow, so the Greeks had four different words for love.

By the way – speaking of snow – I’ve discovered that in northwest Pennsylvania, there is more than one word for snow. I had never heard precipitation called "wintry mix" until I moved here. And now I know what a "wintry mix" is. It’s freezing rain mixed with snow. But I digress.

The English language has one word for love, while the ancient Greek language had four. There was eros, philos, storge and agape. Eros is passionate love, like that which exists between a couple about to be married, which some experts refer to as "romantic infatuation." Philos is the kind of love that exists between best friends. It’s a depth of feeling that can be remarkably rekindled after many years of separation.

Storge is the kind of love that exists between a parent and a child. It’s a deep, transformative love that, in my mind, defies description. Yet it’s really quite different than the love between a husband and a wife, or between best friends, isn’t it?

Then there’s agape. Agape is actually the word the Apostle Paul uses in our passage from Corinthians. Agape is defined as unconditional love. Agape is the love the Apostle Paul is describing, but what – exactly – does agape love really look like?

After many years of trying in vain, I think that now I can finally illustrate it by way of experience. Listen to a little story that, in my mind, depicts unconditional love to a tee. Agape love looks something like this:

In my last congregation, there was an unbelievably gifted pianist by the name of Paul Heins. He’d grown up in Salem, but was then living and working in Washington, D.C. Of course, he’d always come home at Christmas, and once again in the summer, and perform in the church.

Paul became the paid accompanist for a choir in Washington, D.C. The choir was called, "The Gay and Lesbian Chorus of Washington, D.C." It seems the choir was going to be performing at some festival in Cincinnati, so on the way, they wanted to stop off in Salem to perform a concert there as well. My choir director said, "Let me write him back and tell him we’re not able to do that." He was trying to save me the agony. But I said, "No, no. Let me take this request to the session." After all, that’s how we do things in the Presbyterian Church.

So I took Paul’s request for a concert in Salem to the session. The discussion was interesting, to say the least, and in the end, the issue was tabled. So the next month we discussed it again, and the session voted to allow the choir to perform in our church. The vote, as you might suspect, was not unanimous.

Thus, I wrote Paul a letter to extend him the invitation. I remember writing something like, "This is Salem, Ohio, not Washington, D.C. Attitudes here are quite different than they are there. But in the end, the session’s love and appreciation and admiration for you won out. Your choir is welcome to perform in Salem this summer."

Now you can about guess who the opposition blamed. Even though it was a session decision, still, I got a number of phone calls. It’s not easy to convince some people that Jesus would not have been a conservative Republican akin to Pat Robertson or Jerry Falwell. As I later said to my organist, though, "I always wanted a great ‘cause’ like Martin Luther King, but this one isn’t exactly what I had in mind!"

So Paul and his choir prepared to come to Salem amid fierce support and fierce opposition. But here’s the point about agape love. I said to my daughter, who was only ten at the time, "Mariah, do you understand what homosexuality is?" She said, "I think so." Then I asked, "Do you understand what all this fuss is about?" Again she said, "I think so." So I asked her, "What do you think about all this fuss?" She said, "They’re just people, Dad!" They’re just people.

Don’t worry, I’m not trying to champion any cause here. Nor am I trying to take a theological stand. We’re talking about agape love. Agape is defined as unconditional love. Agape love cares for gay and for straight, for Republican and for Democrat, for Christian and for Jew and for Muslim. Agape love cares for everyone, because after all, they’re just people. And love is meant to be all about caring for people.

I know, I know, some would say to this, "Love the sinner, hate the sin!" And that’s fine. It’s just that loving the sinner tends to get lost in the mix. Hate closes off, while love opens up.

Paul concludes this passage by saying, "So faith, hope, love abide, these three; but the greatest of these is love." Paul was right, you know. Many wars have been fought and many terrors have been wrought, all in the name of faith. Many poor have been slighted and many justices have gone undone while people set their hopes on their own salvation.

Just last week I was having a conversation with someone in my office. Now you know how it is with informal conversation. You tend to roam from one subject to another, and then to another. Well in the course of our conversation, somehow we got to talking about children speaking their very first words. She told me a story about a little girl in Meadville, and how she spoke her very first words. I thought the story was so good that I had to use it to introduce this sermon.

As I understand it, right here in Meadville, there was a little girl who was four years old, and still she had not spoken a single word. Naturally, her parents were quite concerned, so they took her to one specialist after another to find out what the problem was. And one specialist after another told them that there was absolutely nothing wrong with their little girl. She would speak when she felt the need.

Well it just so happened that shortly thereafter, they took a family vacation to Niagara Falls. That four-year-old girl took one look at the majesty of Niagara Falls. Then she looked up at her parents and spoke her very first words: "My Dawd that’s a lot of water!"

Ladies and gentlemen, that is supposed to be a true story. Like the specialists said, this little girl just needed a reason to speak. And once she was sufficiently impressed, she responded in kind. Keep that thought in mind. Once she was sufficiently impressed, she responded in kind.

In the passage I read from the gospel according to Luke, Jesus has reached the shores of the lake of Gennesaret, also known as the Sea of Galilee. Up to this point in time, Jesus has been roaming the hillsides of Judea, preaching in the synagogues and healing in the streets. Now at this point we need to note two important things. Number one, Jesus is developing quite a reputation – as a healer and as a preacher. And number two, Jesus – at this point – is quite alone. For it’s in this passage in the fifth chapter of Luke that Jesus calls his first disciples.

How did it happen? Jesus arrived at the shores of the Sea of Galilee. As our passage says, "The people pressed upon him to hear the word of God." Isn’t that something? Can you imagine people today pressing upon the Church to hear the word of God – literally begging to hear more preaching? Ah, would that it were so…but I digress.

On the shores of the Sea of Galilee, Jesus sees two boats. They belong to four fishermen, named Simon, Andrew, James and John. (Simon, of course, would later come to be known as Peter, but we’re not quite to that point yet.) The four fishermen were not in their boats. They’d been fishing all night and had not caught a thing. Thus, they were calling it a day and were nearby washing out their fishing nets.

Now try to imagine this scene from Simon and Andrew, James and John’s perspective. They’ve been up all night fishing, and they were completely unsuccessful. Then here comes this Jesus character, surrounded by what might have been up to 100 people. Surely they’d heard rumors about this Jesus; word spread rapidly throughout the region in those days. Then, here he was – right there in their midst. Now they’d get to hear first-hand what the fuss was all about.

Jesus got into Simon’s boat and asked him to put out a little from the land. That way he could see everyone and address them properly. Simon – tired though he was – obliged Jesus’ request. He put out from the land and Jesus taught the people from the boat.

What did Jesus say? No one knows for sure. My guess is that he told them of the majesty of God and how important each and every one of them was to God. Jesus had an uncanny ability to touch the hearts of those to whom he spoke.

Surely Simon’s heart was warmed as well. Surely he sensed that there was something unique about this Jesus fellow – something special, indeed. Then Jesus told Simon to let down his nets for a catch. It was a ludicrous request! Simon knew full well that there weren’t any fish in that part of the sea. Remember, he’d been fishing there all night! Yet still, Simon said, "At your word, I will let down the nets."

You know the story. They caught so many fish that their nets were breaking. Then James and John came out with their boat, too. They pulled in so many fish that the boats began to sink! It was there that they saw quite clearly that Jesus had the power to meet their earthly needs.

Then what did Simon do? He dropped to his knees at Jesus’ feet and cried, "Depart from me, for I am a sinful man, O Lord!" You see, that’s what happens to us when we truly encounter the grace of God. We recognize that we are not worthy of it, and what we receive is totally undeserved. Yet grace, by definition, is called "unmerited favor." No one deserves it. That’s why they call it grace.

Jesus said to Simon, "Do not be afraid. From this point on, you will be catching men," or, the non-sexist version: "You will be catching human beings." And that, my friends, was Simon’s call to discipleship. Here Jesus received his first four disciples: Simon and Andrew, James and John. As it says in verse 11, "And when they had brought their boats to land, they left everything, and followed him."

Remember the little girl speaking her very first words? "My Dawd, that’s a lot of water!" Like I said, once she was sufficiently impressed, she responded in kind. So it was with Simon and Andrew, James and John. They were sufficiently impressed with Jesus, and they responded in kind. They left everything, and followed him.

I am truly struck by those words: "They left everything and followed him." What did they leave behind? They left their boats and they left their nets…and I think we can safely assume that they left all those fish on the shore there, as well. And what about their families? We know that James and John left their father behind. (That’s what it says in the gospel of Matthew.) Yet it’s also widely suspicioned that Simon Peter was married. What are we to make of the statement, "They left everything and followed him?" And is that statement literally applicable to us today? Are we, too, to leave everything in order to follow Jesus Christ? What do you think?

I think the answer is, "Yes…and no." Simon and Andrew, James and John left every-thing and followed Jesus Christ. But think about the other people gathered on the shore that day. Did they leave everything to follow Jesus Christ? No, they did not. In fact, human nature being what it is, some of them probably grabbed the fish that Simon and Andrew, James and John left on the shore…and sold them! The point is that Simon and Andrew, James and John were called to leave everything and follow. The crowd gathered on the shore was not called that way.

So is the statement, "They left everything and followed him," literally applicable to us today? The answer is, "Yes and no." It depends upon one’s call. Each of us is called to follow Jesus Christ, yet each of us is called in different ways.

Yet here’s how I think all of us are called. As Christians, we are all called to follow Jesus Christ. We are all called to prioritize our faith. In theory we are called to prioritize our faith, yet in practice – in practice – I think something quite different tends to happen.

Consider what I call THE BOXES OF LIFE. First of all, there’s our faith box. This is who we are in relation to our church or in relationship with God. Then there is our work box. This is who we are when we are at work. Then there is our family box. This is who we are in relationship with our families. And finally, there is our personal box. This is who we are in our personal lives…this is who we are when we think no one else is looking.

These boxes of life tend to be the four distinctive ways we relate to the world. We’re not the same people at work as we are at home, are we? And often times we’re not the same person at church as we are when we’re at a party. We tend to keep all four boxes neatly aligned on a shelf in our inner closets, and draw from one as we have need.

Yet there’s a problem with that. You see, our faith box is not meant to be one box alongside the others. Our faith box is meant to be over and above the others, and the others draw their life from the faith box. Do you see what I’m trying to say? As a disciple of Jesus Christ, our faith should come to rule every aspect of our lives. Our faith should influence our work life, our family life, and our personal life. And when that is not the case, some very serious consequences can arise.

Let me give you a "presidential" example. Imagine, if you will, a United States President. By faith, he is a Southern Baptist. His family consists of a wife and a daughter. His work, as president, is reasonably important. Yet in his personal life, he gets caught up in one lurid affair after another. We say, "How can that happen?" It’s simple. In church, he’s one person. At work, he’s another. With his family, he’s another person still. And in his personal life – in his life when he thinks no one else is looking – he tends to act on impulse. That’s what happens when the boxes of life are placed side-by-side. That’s what happens when our faith does not impact the other aspects of our lives.

Tom Anderson and Sabrina Root were married in August of 1999. I assume the wed-ding took place in the Philadelphia area, since this story first appeared in the Philadelphia Inquirer. Tom and Sabrina had a wedding that checked out with a $34,000.00 price tag. Now Tom is a bartender and Sabrina is a hair stylist. How did a bartender and a hair stylist afford a $34,000.00 wedding? And no, the money did not come from Mom and Dad.

Here’s how they did it. Tom and Sabrina got corporate sponsorship for their wedding. In other words, they sold advertising. Company names appeared on invitations and thank-you notes. Company names were printed on tags at the buffet table and on little scrolls at the dinner tables. Sabrina drew the line at having advertising banners draped across the center aisle at the church – I’m hoping the minister had a say in that as well – but there was a verbal "thank-you" that followed the first toast at the reception. I can about imagine. The best man concludes his toast by saying, "Tom, Sabrina – I hope you have a wonderful life together. This toast is brought to you by your friends at Miller High Life, the champagne of beers!"

Chalk one up to American ingenuity, right? Why not have the best if you can find a way to swing it? We seem to be convinced these days that more will make us happier – more cars, more clothes, bigger houses, bigger TVs. People often seem to think their problems would be solved if only they had a little more money.

This constant drive for more, more, more is like a virus that one recent book calls "affluenza." It’s the disease of affluence. We seem to believe that more will make us happy, but we never seem to be able to have quite enough. Compared to a generation or two ago, many people in our nation do have greater wealth than did their parents. Yet at the same time, divorce rates are higher, teen suicide is on the rise, clinical depression is more common, and there are more and more out-of-wedlock births. We have more, and all the while we suffer from a national sense of anxiety, stress and fatigue. Such is the fallout from the disease of "affluenza."

Our nation enjoys unprecedented prosperity, yet still – one child in six in our nation lives in poverty – and millions have no health insurance. There are huge and growing disparities in income between the rich and the poor. As author David G. Myers has written, "The contemporary American paradox may be that of material prosperity in an age of spiritual hunger." And as Doug Oldenburg – a former General Assembly Moderator and President of Columbia Theological Seminary – recently wrote, "When individualism is taken to an extreme, individuals become its ironic casualties. Greed – and always wanting more – have led straight to the corporate scandals at Enron, in money market funds, and elsewhere." Ah, this disease called "affluenza" may be more real than we think.

Oldenburg concludes his piece by saying, "Are we now happier than we were 40 years ago in America? We are not. We are twice as rich as we were 40 years ago, but we are less happy, and we are less satisfied." Perhaps we truly do live in a paradoxical age of material prosperity and spiritual hunger.

Jesus addresses this paradox, in a manner of speaking, in the passage we read from the gospel according to Luke. This is Luke’s version of what the gospel of Matthew calls "The Sermon on the Mount." In Luke it is referred to as "The Sermon on the Plain." The words are similar, but listen to what Jesus has to say about the paradox of material prosperity and spiritual hunger:

Blessed are you poor, for yours is the kingdom of God.

Blessed are you that hunger now, for you shall be satisfied.

Blessed are you that weep now, for you shall laugh.

Blessed are you when men hate you, exclude you, and revile you on account of my name.

Jesus says that God is with the poor, the hungry, the sorrowful and the despised, and that in the eternal scheme of things, there will be a reversal of fortune. "These are the blessed," Jesus says, but look who he seems to believe is going to suffer in the end:

Woe to you that are rich, for you have received your consolation.

Woe to you that are full now, for you shall hunger.

Woe to you that laugh now, for you shall mourn and weep.

Woe to you, when all men speak well of you, for so their fathers did to the false prophets.

Now obviously, I could build a sermon around every single one of these blessings and woes. But I’m guessing no one wants to be here until 2:00 this afternoon. So let’s try to take an overview of this passage. Why are the poor blessed and the rich destined for woe? Why would Jesus seem to bless hunger and appear to condemn a sa