Sermons

You heard me right, that uncanny ability we have to be looking for something and not seeing it while it is right in front of our eyes. Could be the garlic salt in the spice cabinet. Could be the only red handled scissors in the cooking utensil drawer. Could be car keys on the table, the shoes by the front door. Mother warned us about it. “If it were a snake, it would have bit you!”

Male patterned, no, human patterned blindness, is spreading. We can’t look up phone numbers, preferring to dial 411 or get an i-phone app that does it. Don’t bother asking someone for directions. Google maps will find it for you. We can’t find our way out of a paper bag any more.

But, when it came to finding our way to heaven, that’s the way it always was. We could never find it on our own. Human patterned blindness. That’s why today’s epistle is so important.

Call Upon the Name of the Lord

2 Corinthians 4.3-6     February 14, 2010

It is hard to block the light of the sun. Most of the time we don’t want to completely block the sun, but just keep it from burning us. But there are times we want it to be dark and the sun’s light makes it impossible. My family learned this the hard way one summer about eight years ago in Alaska. We stayed in this nice cabin with a large sliding glass door looking over a beautiful lake. The problem was that you could see that beautiful lake clearly all through the night because the sun never completely went away. And there were no curtains to block the sun from coming in that large glass door. We tried our best to hang up blankets to block the sun but it was a losing battle. Needless to say, we did not get much sleep with a young child who thought it was still day with the sun shining in through the door. It would have been nice just to turn off the light of the sun for a while but, of course, we could not do that.

The light of Christ can’t be turned off either. It is brighter and more powerful than the sun. Though there is much in this world that attempts to block out the light of Christ, it still shines and for that we praise the Lord. The Light of Christ Shines. It shines into our hearts. It shines in our lives.

Sermon 1291                     1 Corinthians 14.12-20                       February 7, 2010

I did not believe my 7^th grade choir teacher when, in 1968, he said all the music that could ever be written had already been written.  I disagree with Don McLean’s assertion the music died when Buddy Holly’s plane went down.  I try to avoid the trap that the only contemporary music is on the Mark and Mercedes’ morning show—a listless line of white rockers with limited vocal ranges.  Coworkers are surprised I have the new Avett Brothers’ album.  My downloading the Mogadishu hip-hop K’naan’s “Wavin’ Flag” gave my son pause.

Music opens our minds and our souls.  We get a new feel for how other people view the world.  If we are too old to learn a new language, we can learn to like new musical styles.

Perhaps the most difficult of music is the string quartet.  No director, just two violins, a viola and a cello, instruments as different from each other as they are alike, engaged in a musical discussion.  Watch a video of a string quartet performance—you’ll be amazed at how attentive they are to each other, how concerned they are for the total sound and each one’s huge part in that sound.

It’s almost like watching the Holy Spirit set loose his Christians in the Church.

The Spirit’s Gifts Build Up

Sermon 1290            1 Corinthians 12.27-13.13   January 31, 2010

This could be the worst sermon in the world.  All we’d have to do is follow the beaten path of worn-out clichés, sloppy sentimentality and shallow thought.  You realize the end of this text is “the wedding text” used so often and badly that it is mocked almost every time it is quoted on television or movies.  Just think of the lisping, long-winded and pitch challenged priest in “The Princess Bride.”

Let’s not make it that bad, shall we?

The Greatest Gift.