Bible Text:

Consider your own call, brothers and sisters: not many of you were wise by human standards, not many were powerful, not many were of noble birth. But God chose what is foolish in the world to shame the wise; God chose what is weak in the world to shame the strong…” 
                                                                                       (I Corinthians 26-27)

Forty years and two days ago I was ordained an elder in the United Methodist Church—June 4, 1964. I had gone straight through high school into four years of college. I followed that immediately with three years of seminary. I know that I was totally green, and somewhat naïve about local church ministry. 

Sure, I had watched ministry happen in my home church growing up. I did a little intern work in my own home church over two summers. I spent my weekends in youth ministry in a medium-sized Methodist church during my years in seminary. But I really did not know what I was doing. I scarcely knew where to begin. 

I had no bold expectations. I had no specific dream. I did have my call—based on Isaiah 40 (the Old Testament reading for today): "Get you up onto a high mountain… lift up your voice… fear not… say to the cities, ‘Behold your God.’” I have, in fact, opened the Bible on the Communion table to that passage today. 

So I just started. I did have one basic conviction—which is still my conviction: Jesus is the central figure in all of history. Jesus is the revealer of God and the Master of life. 

I preached my first sermon. I entitled it, “Free to be the Church.” I do not recall at all what I said. Maybe that’s a good thing. 

Recently I read this statement by a well-known author: “It is far more difficult to be an effective parish pastor today than it was in the 1960s. The expectations people bring to church are both greater in number and variety, as well as more difficult to meet.”[i] 

Back in 1964 I did not know whether it was difficult or not. I just did it. I was convinced God had called me. I knew the bishop had appointed me. I had no interview or any meeting with any committee prior to my arrival back in Pittsburgh. I just showed up and started preaching. 

So what have I learned over 40 years? How could I put that learning into some meaningful framework? I thought today of an image you might appreciate. 

Almost every year after ordination, I was requested to fill out a form. I was told that form would be used in making subsequent appointments by the bishop. The form always contained one question that puzzled me and frustrated me: What is your theological position? How would you characterize yourself theologically? 

I hated that question. I don’t like labels. And I did not have a good answer. Was I conservative? Was I liberal? To the left or to the right? Was I middle-of-the-road? So what I did was make up my answers as I went along. Every year I entered something different on that line. I guess my answers were designed to keep my options open and perhaps confuse the bishop. Some of those answers were these: 

·         theologically thoughtful

·         evangelical moderate

·         radically middle-of-the-road

·         catalytic centrist

·         traditional neo-orthodox

·         doggedly determined

·         eagerly existential 

I know the Cabinet never read those papers, because (a) I always got an appointment, and (b) I never heard a comment from anyone. All that creative energy wasted! 

I did notice that the forms stopped coming right after I came to Christ Church. Maybe they gave up on me. Maybe they thought Christ Church would straighten me out. Maybe they thought this church defied labels also. 

All that being said, I think I finally have my answer to that question. After 40 years, I now know what to write on that line. For the very first time, I am going to tell you. You heard it here! I am… a relational progressive! 

That may sound like I’m still playing with words. But maybe not. Those two words define me more than any others I know. Let me explain. 

RELATIONAL 

First, relational. I believe the Gospel relates directly to life. There is a relational power in Jesus’ words, Jesus’ teachings, Jesus’ parables. Early on, I learned to connect what I read in Scripture with real life. 

Many of you know about the popularity of the so-called “reality television shows.” In part, the rise of those shows has been an economic issue. They are much cheaper to produce. You don’t have to pay stars 3 million dollars an episode. But people also connect with those shows. Most of us think of ourselves as “survivors” in one form or another. If we’re single, we think of ourselves as a “bachelor” or “bachelorette.” Myself—I identify with “Average Joe!” 

In reality TV, you can put yourself into the picture and imagine what it would be like. That’s exactly what the stories of Scripture do for us. There’s a relational power there. 

Several weeks ago I read an article by James Heidinger, II. Heidinger is a very conservative United Methodist and president of the conservative Good News movement. His article repeated the same theme that I have heard for 40 years. The United Methodist Church is losing members because we’re not conservative enough. Interestingly, his quotations and resources in the article were dated 1970 and 1972, over 30 years ago. 

My experience is that people are leaving the United Methodist Church because it doesn’t connect. The issue is not theology, it’s disconnection. People drop away not for theological or polity issues. They leave because there’s little connection with their lives. Disengagement and apathy are fairly common. 

I believe that Scripture touches our lives directly. I read the Scripture as a story of men and women trying to learn what it means to trust God absolutely. There are stories of doubt, stories of empowerment, stories of loneliness, anxiety, and worry, stories about overcoming grief and death, stories on the issue of money and possessions—how these things fail to provide happiness and real security. 

So I want to direct my energy toward a relational message. Jesus was so spiritually connected—so in touch with God and so in touch with life—that he spoke directly to the life you and I live. 

I heard a good example of this last Sunday morning when I was worshiping in Atlanta. We were visiting our son and daughter-in-law and grandchildren. I went to the 9:30 worship service at the church to which they belong. It was Pentecost Sunday. The minister said that he had prepared a Pentecost message. He wanted to explain the history of Pentecost, both in the Jewish and Christian traditions. He wanted to tell the meaning of Pentecost and repeat the Pentecost story as recorded in the Book of Acts. 

However, on Wednesday of that week, a two-month-old baby in the congregation had died of Sudden Infant Death Syndrome. He had just baptized that little girl ten days earlier in a service of worship in that congregation—holding her up for all to see and celebrate. On Saturday he had presided at the funeral. How did he and the others find the strength to do that? How did the little children’s choir of that church manage to sing an anthem at that funeral service—with tears running down their cheeks—without missing a note? He took the Pentecost story and related it to that event, and it was powerful. He said, “We find the strength because of what God has given us in the power of the Holy Spirit.” The sermon was relational. It was life-related. People noticed. 

Theologically, I want to be relational. 

PROGRESSIVE 

Then, the word “progressive.” In part this means I want to think through the Biblical story. I grew up in a progressive church. I was trained to think progressively and analytically in college. I went to a progressive seminary. Some were uneasy about that. Drew Seminary at the time was somewhat suspect by others in the church. In fact, I was told that when you graduated from Drew and appeared before the Board of Ordained Ministry, they asked you three questions: (1) Are you married? (2) Do you have a car? (3) Why did you have to go to Drew? 

But I learned to think about my faith. I approached Scripture with heart and mind. In some religious traditions you have to leave your shoes at the door of the church before you go into the place of worship. Some Christians unfortunately believe that  they have to leave their brains at the door before they go into worship as well! I learned how to understand what the writers meant in the original passages. I learned to understand the setting in which the passages were written. 

I read an interesting description and image about all this in a new book by Lyle Schaller. He said some Christians were trained in Jerusalem and some were trained in Athens. Those trained in Jerusalem place great value upon tradition and orthodoxy. Those trained in Athens place high value upon reason. He suggests that some current observers feel that the current struggle ideologically in the United Methodist Church is between those who were raised in Jerusalem and those who were raised in Athens. 

I was born in Jerusalem. But I grew up in Athens. I was trained in Athens. My heart was also “strangely warmed” in Athens. I don’t undervalue those who are from Jerusalem, but I have learned to read the Bible progressively. And I must tell you that I sincerely believe my faith is stronger because of it. 

“Progressive” means something else to me as well. It also means seeing new ways for God to be at work, and new ways of being God’s people in the world. 

This is why I finally became open to Sunday night contemporary seeker-oriented worship a few years ago here at Christ Church. It’s why I am eager to see ventures like “Abel’s Place” unfold and succeed. It’s why I am becoming more and more interested in multi-site worship, with different settings and different places. Let me read to you something that Lyle Schaller says in his new book. I think this may amaze you. 

During the past dozen years, a small but rapidly growing number of American Protestant congregations have introduced a new model… This model calls for one congregation meeting under one name, with one message, one identity, one governing board, one paid staff, one budget, and one treasury, with people gathering for the corporate worship of God at somewhere between 2 and 250 different locations every weekend.[ii]

Good land! But that’s progressive thinking. Interestingly, Schaller said that it doesn’t mean necessarily a clergy or preacher at every site. Rather, he says that the increasing trend is toward a video of the message in many cases. Four or five sites away from Christ Church this morning could be watching this message on a live-feed video into wherever the setting. Or it might be taped and played next weeks in those same settings. 

Now, I’m not advocating this—certainly not immediately. It simply means I’m open to progressive thinking. I am interested and open to other options, and to see where God leads. 

The bottom line is this: I now know who I am. After 40 years. Aren’t you glad? And I like who I am. I like being a relational progressive. 

I want to connect you with God in an often-disconnected world. I want to help you learn what it means to follow Jesus—when there are many competing lures out there. I want to move with you into God’s new day. I want to be a relational progressive, to the glory of God. 

Let me close with this anonymous blessing that I found. 

May God bless you with discomfort at easy answers and half truths, so that you will live deep within your heart… And may God bless you with the foolishness to think that you can make a difference in the world, so that you will do things which others tell you cannot be done. 

Amen.